Blessed Beyond Belief

The candles were lit and the steam rising off the water glistened on the bubbles that floated on its surface. The windows that line the wall beside the tub in my master bath were cranked open and I exhaled in delight as I slid into the water for a relaxing bath last night. The cold breeze blew in through the window and I felt every care, every worry slip away as I watched the steady rain fall from dark, winter-like skies.

And that's when it hit me. Where was Ron at that very moment? For those of you that know me, I'm sure you are wondering who Ron is and why I am thinking about him in the bathtub :) Well....

Ron is a homeless man that lives on the streets of West Nashville. He sells The Contributor as a small source of income. But, for now, he is without shelter. Suddenly, my love of "bad" weather was tempered by concern for my new friend. As I lay in the comfort of a bubble-filled tub of warm water surrounded by candles, Ron was surely braving the elements in a much less appealing way. And the realization of just how blessed I am hit me like a ton of bricks.

Over the past few days, I have had similar experiences that have opened my eyes to the oh-so-comfortable life I lead. I read an article in a back issue of the paper written by a now-homeless woman that sells the paper downtown. She remarked at the professional women that walk by every day and how she remembered wearing the same skirt as a particular passerby. "Turquoise blue with brown and beige flowers, bought at The Dress Barn," she wrote. She then recalled the days of having skin care products and nice-smelling lotions that made her feel pretty and compared that to feeling lucky to have a bar of soap to bathe with now.

And then I thought about the basket. On the closet in my shelf there is a basket. This basket is overflowing with bottles of lotion and body sprays in every scent imaginable. Rarely, if ever, used. Under my sink, there are baskets of skin care products I just "had to have" and pedicure creams, nail polishes, bath salts and hundreds of hotel-sized shampoos, lotions and the like. So, I devised a plan to take those, divide them into little trial size plastic bottles, slap a label on them with the scent and hand them out to the female vendors I meet. If something sitting unused on my shelf can make someone else's day... then it will surely make my day, too.

Then, the most heartbreaking one yet. As I was returning to the church after lunch, I was shielding myself from the steady cold rain. I thought to myself how happy I was I wore my rain boots as I sloshed through puddle after puddle. As I rounded the corner of the church, a man bearing backpack and tennis shoes soaked through asked my coworkers and I if the church had a clothing closet of any kind. We replied "no" and he mentioned that all he was hoping to get was a pair of dry socks to keep his feet warm.

Really?

I can't tell you how this is changing me from the inside out. I want to help. I want to contact clothing manufacturers about the endless numbers of reject socks they might be tossing and see if we can somehow distribute those to people like the man I met today. I want to do something to make even the tiniest difference in one person's life.

I am incredibly blessed. How can I do a better job of sharing those blessings with others? I'm not exactly sure, but you can bet I'm gonna figure something out.

Rollin on the River...

I will be the first to admit I did not feel like going.

As the sunlight poured through the slats in the window shutters, I was cozy and comfortable and reveling in my lazy Saturday morning slumber. Keith had proposed that we take a family canoe trip down the Duck River and had even gone so far as making reservations. Ugghh....I thought to myself as I pondered a day in the heat rowing a canoe with two whiny children in tow. But up I bounded, located bathing suits, towels and sunglasses and off we went.

After checking in at the canoeing company, we drove down a gravel road with dust flying. I was still in full doubt mode that this outing was going to end up well. That is, until I saw the excitement on my youngest son's face when he realized he would be riding a big, yellow school bus down to our drop-off point. The sheer joy he exhibited brought a glimmer of hope that this might have been a good idea after all.

Boy, was it ever.

As the bus made its way down to the water, I realized this was exactly what I needed... what WE as a family needed. The laid-back feel of the whole process set the tone for the day as nothing felt rushed or scheduled. It was truly an "at-your-own-pace" experience which fit us to a "T." We selected a canoe, got the boys secured into their life jackets, got settled into our boat and off we went. The minute we pushed off I knew it was going to be a good day.

The sun was warm and the breeze cool as we slowly rowed down the first stretch of the river. Keith was in the back to steer and I was up front with the boys sitting on the floor in the middle of the canoe. They took delight in pointing out every butterfly, dragonfly or stick in the water that they were sure was an alligator or snake. We rowed past large outcroppings of rock and under trees with bent branches drooping over the water creating canopies of refreshing shade along the way.

At one point, I challenged the boys to be completely still and quiet to see how many different sounds they could take in as we floated. Surprisingly, they accepted the challenge and we all soaked in the sounds of nature around us. Cicadas buzzed in the distance as the gentle breeze brushed through the branches of the trees above us. The gentle lapping of the water on the rocks mingled with the sound of our oars gliding through the water. It was, without doubt, one of the most peaceful experiences I have ever had. Sure, I have had quiet times alone that were "peaceful"...but this rare moment of solitude with boys that are normally going at mach-10 was special to say the least.

And to think, if I had had my way, I woulda missed it all...Jacob's school bus excitement, the colorful canoes lined up by the shore and feeling of freedom as we pushed off at the start. I woulda missed picking out the perfect swimming hole, tossing the boys through the air, the laughter that always followed as soon as they returned to the surface, and the feeling of contentment that washed over me as I floated on my back staring up at a cloudless blue sky.

I woulda missed it all... but I didn't. And as we made our way back up that same dusty gravel road to head home, I was thankful I gave up a lazy Saturday morning and took the road, or in this case the river, less traveled.

It indeed made all the difference.

"Everyone must believe in something. I believe I'll go canoeing." ~ Henry David Thoreau

Finding a New Rhythm...

The sound of the organ music fills the air as the sunshine pours in, dancing on the dust particles floating about. I sit here, laptop open, tap tap tap.... pondering the interesting twists and turns my life has taken recently.

For so many years, I had become complacent with my career...completely saturated in the familiar, the comfortable...planning events from start to finish for groups with whom I was utterly familiar. My job had almost become second nature. A pattern developed in the cycle of my year and I floated from month to month knowing exactly what to expect day to day.

Boy how times change.

As I sit in an office of the Downtown Presbyterian Church here in Nashville, I am suddenly aware of how interesting my career--and subsequently, my life--has become. As part-time event planner and volunteer coordinator for Nashville's street newspaper, The Contributor, I am not only coming in contact with all sorts of fascinating people but I am marinating in an environment of creativity and relaxed productivity that has long been missing from my life. The cadence of this work is so unlike what I have grown accustomed to and that is refreshing. My day has been filled with meetings, laughter, touring an old bank-building turned home/event space as well as digging through intriguing art studio spaces which I would give up a leg to inhabit.

This new position will also allow me to explore other income opportunities such as the catering company I met with this morning. It is another avenue with an entirely different set of interesting people where I would put my skill set to work through networking, meeting with clients, artistic design...you name it. I could not be more excited.

A few months ago I was in tears at the thought of my job situation coming to an end by no fault of my own and how I would never find anything comparable to replace it. Now I see that the opportunities unfolding for me are possibly much bigger and better than I dreamed.

I'm liking this road I'm on. And as I watch the dust dance on the drops of sunlight I suddenly feel like dancing, too. The tune I dance to may be changing but I will just find a new rhythm.

Look out folks, they're playing my song.....

Runnin' Off the Tracks in a Good Sorta Way

The alarm was set for 5:30am and I had the best of intentions. Rather than prop my eyelids open with toothpicks to finish a report the night before, I would wake up early and utilize the quiet early-morning hours of solitude to accomplish the task. Nothing could derail me on My Track of Productivity. Nothing....until I heard the pitter patter of Spider-man-sock-clad feet turning the corner in the hallway.

"I need a snuggle, Momma."

Derailment of train.

He hopped up next to me in bed, the warmth of his little boy body a soothing heating pad for my chilled-by-the-ceiling-fan arms. He did his characteristic move of inching back until he hit the cradle of my arms just perfectly...wiggling and nuzzling until the spot felt just right. His chest let out a deep exhale signaling that he was just about as content as a person could be...as was I.

We lay there, our in and out breaths in perfect rhythm as I gently grasped his tiny hand in mine. Each one of his fingertips was a wonder to me. Those tiny baby hands had transformed into strong little boy hands--usually covered in dirt or splatters of his favorite strawberry milk. I soaked in this time of stillness, inactivity...such a rarity where a three year old boy is concerned.

That's when I realized that reports can wait. Showers can wait. Making the bed and getting breakfast ready can wait. What cannot wait is getting unsolicited snuggles from a three year old sandy-haired little boy clad in froggy pajamas and spider man socks.

You see, this window of opportunity doesn't open for long. But when it does, it's worth running the train off its tracks every time.

Flying Solo, Uno, One...Me, Myself and I

No man is an island.

Is it not good for man (or Katie) to be alone.

One...is the loneliest number that you'll every do...

All by myself....don't wanna be...all by myself.............ANYMOREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE.

Have you ever taken the Myers-Briggs personality test? Well the first indicator is extrovert vs. introvert and, as you might have guessed, I am an EXTROVERT off the charts. That does not simply mean you are outgoing or like people. It's actually an indicator of where you draw your energy from--others or from within. After traveling alone all week and then coming home to an empty house since Keith and the boys are in Alabama, I can most assuredly confirm that I am an "E" on the Myers-Briggs scale.

Now don't misunderstand me, I like a little alone time just like the next person. But waking up to total silence this morning, I almost felt like I wanted to climb the walls. I showered, met my friend at the farmer's market, snapped pics, ate a turkey panini, bought lots of produce, got my boys a couple of surprises, watched the rain, listened to music, colored with crayons, baked ooey gooey bars and watched a movie. I then offered to bring some handmade pasta and a salad to my friend Heather's house (aka an inventive way to invite yourself over for supper) so that I DO NOT HAVE TO EAT ALONE AGAIN. A people person can alone take so much quiet, folks.

I do know that I am more than ready to see the fellas. And, from what I've heard, the feeling is mutual. But, for now, I revel in my solitude. Guess I could get off my ka-tonkus and do some laundry or straighten the boys' rooms. But that might actually be productive.

Can't have that now, can we?

Thoughts, Life Revelations and a Priceless Pair of Shoes

As I sat cross-legged on the floor just beyond the altar of the Downtown Presbyterian Church in Nashville today, I had an epiphany. I knew that was where I was supposed to be. Right then. Right there. Surrounded by those exact people. A sly grin washed over my face as I realized, for the umpteenth time in my life, that all my stress and worry over trying to control the path of my life was unnecessary. God knew where I needed to be. And, when I found myself there, I humbly shook my head and acknowledged in my heart, "you win. again."

I must admit, my life has been anything but ordinary. And, as I stared up at the spectacular architecture of that magnificent church I was grateful for the unexpected twists and turns that led me to that spot today. In the pews directly in front of me sat hundreds of homeless individuals--of every color, shape and size--listening intently to what my new coworker Tom was sharing with them. I noticed several who used that time to sleep...most likely grateful for the cool comfort of air conditioning on an extremely brutal Tennessee summer day. Just days ago, I would not have pictured myself here--sitting cross-legged at an event for the homeless--but my heart was clearly at home there.

As the new event planner/volunteer coordinator for The Contributor--a street newspaper in Nashville founded to help shed light on poverty and homelessness as well as provide an avenue for income for the homeless--I was trying to take it all in...absorbing every detail of this day from the colors of the stained glass to the smile on the face of one of the ladies in attendance. The staff had been so welcoming, revealing through mile-wide grins that they had felt the same feeling of certainty about me as I had about them following the interview. They seemed genuinely relieved to have me there... a refreshing feeling, indeed.

Just then, it was announced that every person there would be receiving a new pair of shoes from the organization Soles4Souls. The reaction was something I will never forget. Cheers, applause, hugs and even a few tears made it feel more like Christmas morning than the last Wednesday of July. A tear rolled down my cheek as I watched the celebration over a simple pair of shoes-- an object that I have far too many of in my own closet. It was moving, humbling and a much needed reminder of just how blessed I am.

I'm sure this will not be the last time I have this sort of revelation while working for this organization. I realized today that the sudden gear shifts of life are just that--shifts. I was comfortable and stable doing a job for a client I have been with for years and then the CEO unexpectedly dies. The new CEO replaces me with someone local and it feels like a kick in the stomach. Fear and doubt and uncertainty suddenly become a swirling concoction that occupy my every thought.

Until today.

My experience today was more than just a first day on the job. It was a renewing of sorts. It was proof that no matter what curveballs life throws our way, somewhere there is a stained glass window with a sun ray pouring in, a new team member greeting you with squeals of excitement and the smile on the face of a lady for whom a new pair of shoes is a winning million dollar lottery ticket.

Thank you Oh Unpredictability of Life. You keep me on my toes and I wouldn't have it any other way.

A Pretty Place

There is a place that beckons me. A place where childhood memories and dreams for my future converge. It is solitary. It is breathtaking. It is a Pretty Place.
And I need to return there...soon.

My first memory of A Pretty Place is a trip to visit my grandmother in Brevard, North Carolina when I was a young girl. My parents knew of this spot and I was intrigued by the wooded, winding and twisting road that led us to our destination. Located in the back of a YMCA camp, one would never guess that such a stunning spot existed as we passed cabins, basketball courts and the occasional stray camper on bicycle. But, the moment we pulled up to A Pretty Place for the first time, I knew this would not be the only time I made a trip to this spectacular overlook.

Built in 1941, the Fred W. Symmes Chapel, or "A Pretty Place" as it is more commonly known, was a gift to the boys and girls that attend camp at the YMCA. It is an open-air chapel with primitive wooden bench seating leading down to what is one of the most intimate, yet majestic, views of the Blue Ridge mountains I have ever seen.

Growing up a mountain lover, this spot hooked me from the start. I was drawn to the cross at the front of the chapel and how it seemed so perfectly perched on the rock wall separating the structure from the valley below. The saying on the ceiling above the cross was perfect, too: "I Will Lift Up Mine Eyes Unto the Hills..." So fitting for this sanctuary where religion and nature intertwine.

On each visit, I would sit atop the rock wall and glance out at the breathtaking sight which, strangely enough, had the power to both captivate and frighten me with its immense grandeur. In the fall, the brilliant hues of golds and reds would make the mountainsides appear to be in flame...the sun hitting in angles creating a tapestry of color only possible in nature. In the Spring, the lush green of the hillsides would darken in random shapes as cloud formations would float past the sun. The tranquility I found here was unlike no other place in my travels.

The last time I visited A Pretty Place was my last Easter with Mom...a sunrise service, in fact. I need to visit again. I need to breathe in the mountain air and surrender all my worries and feel completely at peace.

I will return there soon....

Whiz, Boom, Bang...Happy Fourth!

The summer sun was pelting us as we arrived, cole slaw and lemon pie in hand, to ring in Independence day with a group of friends. It's one of those gatherings where you know you can let your guard down and be yourself...my favorite kind of get together.

The house was brimming with guests--mostly familiar faces--with kids running to and fro. The food table was overflowing with an array of side dishes and the dining room proved a popular pass-through as it held the coveted dessert table. Each family awaited their turn at the grill and passed the time catching up with old friends and making new ones. Laughter was in abundance and the giggles of children added to the feeling of merriment in the air.

As the sun began to fade, brave souls trucked wagonloads of fireworks down to the pond as the observers positioned their lawn chairs and blankets for the show. Soon, darkness set in and the fireworks were well underway...accompanied by at least eight others on the horizon and throughout the neighborhood. Each pop and whistle bursted open into a display of color followed by oohs and ahhs from the appreciate onlookers.

A sense of contentment washed over me as I held my youngest in my arms and joked with friends around me. I am free on this day. I am free to celebrate as I wish and do as I please...and I realized I was exactly where I needed and wanted to be at that moment.Good food, great company, and the traditional whiz, boom, bang of a sky full of firecrackers.

It was a good evening, indeed.

Lemon Icebox Pie Recipe

If I had known how quickly this pie would go, I'da made more than one for tonight's festivities :) For those of you that requested, here is the recipe. It could not be easier:

Lemon Icebox Pie

3/4 c. lemon juice

2 eggs

2 14 oz. cans sweetened condensed milk (I use Carnation)

Mix together well, pour into graham cracker pie shell and bake for 30 minutes or until firm.

Serve with whipped cream.

Enjoy!

Laughter Really is the Best Medicine...

Found this great article on getting the most out of every day. It referenced one of my favorite all-time quotes by poet e.e. Cummings: "The most wasted of all days is one without laughter.”

That is my new mantra, peoples. OK, I guess it's not entirely new. I do laugh a lot just by nature of me being a dork. But, sometimes I take life much too seriously and let the little things affect my overall attitude. Every time I start thinking about the mistakes I've made, the way I might have been "done wrong" by others...well, it does affect my mood and outlook on the day. So, I'm gonna work on that.

If there is one thing I learned from losing my Mom eight years ago, it is that LIFE IS SHORT. Breaking news, right? Well it might as well be with the way I race through my days...completely overlooking many of the little things that make life good. I tunnel-vision on a project or event and lose sight of all the opportunities for happiness along the way.

Well that is changing, folks.

You see, I turn the Big 4-0 in nine days. And lest you think I'm having some big mid-life, birthday-induced epiphany, it's really not that. I simply have so much to be thankful for. I have lived hard and loved deep and lost big. I have laughed, cried, hurt, celebrated, and tried (sometimes not hard enough admittedly) to document it along the way. And, God-willing, there is a lot more to come. I mean, just today a three year old woke me up singing "Cock-a-doodle-doooooooooooooooo" in my face. A smile-making moment for sure.

It's gonna be a good day.

Yikes. I'm Kinda Supposed to Be the Grown Up Now?

It didn't really hit me until we were pulling into the parking lot. The bright red sign pointed to Ruby Falls and suddenly the memories came flashing back.

It was 1980 and it was one of those marathon road trips we used to take without DVD players and gameboys and iPods. It was me, my sis, my folks and a whole lotta highway. I'm not sure how she did it, but my Mom had road trippin down to a fine art. We each had a little plastic drink holder thingy that stuck out of the window, a makeshift trashbag in the back, snacks readily available and a host of coloring books, travel games and anything else 2 young girls could need to keep them occupied for hours on end.

She was a magician, really.

During that one particular trip 30+ years ago, Lookout Mountain and Ruby Falls were on the itinerary. And, pulling up today it amazed me that now I am the one making memories for my own boys. (A scary thought, indeed.) Other than a backpack loaded down with snacks and ziplock baggies of wet wipes, my preparation for this last-minute trip was "hey guys! we're gonna go to Chattanooga for a couple days! Put your shoes on and let's go!" I consider it a victory that they both had a clean pair of underwear and a toothbrush to use. Clearly, my expectations are not very high.

Even though I might not have won the prize for The Most Organized and Prepared For Trip of the Century, the overall mission was accomplished. We spent a couple days in the company of family and, well, just having fun. No formal plans, no set agenda, we did as we pleased and took in many of the same sites I did as a young girl.

And, as we reached the end of our half-mile trek through the depths of the cave and reached our final destination--Ruby Falls-- I saw the wonder in my childrens' eyes as they stared at the majesty just like I did way back when. All the "he's touching me!" and the "Mommmm, I'm hungry/thirsty/ needing to go potty" as well as any worry about being "Super Mom" all dissapated as I watched look of sheer awe spread over their faces as they surveyed the brightly colored waterfall before them.

I may not be filling out any applications for Mother of the Millenium just yet... but we made some pretty special memories on this latest journey.

Isn't that what matters?

1...2....3.....4...BOOM!

I'm pretty sure I was smack dab in the middle of a good dream when a clap of thunder rocked the foundation of my house around 5 o'clock this morning. I bolted out of the covers, oh so certain a 747 had landed in my bedroom.

After my unexpected wake-up call, I realized it was just a strong thunderstorm and nestled back down under my toasty covers to enjoy the show. My crank-out window had been open all evening and the sound of the rain lulled me in and out of a drowsy sleep. The flashes of lightning were nearly constant--more 80's dance nightclub than peaceful light show but I was entranced nonetheless.

I have written many a time of my love for bad weather. As a young girl I would play the counting game to see if a storm was moving closer... A bolt of lightning would flash and I would start counting 1...2...3...4...5...6... CLAP! The thunder would boom. So, on the next flash of lightning I would begin to count 1...2...3...4..5 CLAP! Oooh! "I only got to five," I would exclaim! It's coming this way! My heart would race anticipating swirling winds and a thunderous invasion which would require me to leap under the nearest blanket for safety. I have no idea if my theory of counting in between thunder and lightning is a true indicator of a storm's position. But it sure did make for some fun childhood memories.

This morning I lay alone in the bed (Keith is in St.Louis) and relished my private light show. My slow inhale/exhale reflected my relaxation and I honestly did not want it to come to an end. I'm thinking a day of nasty weather and absolutely nothing to do sounds like a little piece of heaven to me.

A girl can dream, can't she?

Time Flies....

Time slips by on pitter patter feet
Hours fade into days and then
weeks gone by and suddenly

years

Seasons fly... first winter, now summer

A scant slice of spring in between

Where Christmas decor once stood, now

flowers

My mind is abuzz with to-do lists and wish lists and dreams

Balancing the have-to's from the want-to's or wish-I-could's

Creating memories while always striving to keep it

real

Cause I am just me

And life is what it is

I'll take

one

day

at

a

time...

...and make each one as beautiful, meaningful, productive and kick-butt as I can.

Cause time flies.

The least I can do is be a good co-pilot.

Nothing a Little Rain Can't Fix....

Just like a child who can't help but splash in a puddle....I couldn't resist. It had been raining all day and as my entire family napped in various locations around the house the urge overcame me. I ran into the garage, grabbed a couple old comforters and ran out to the trampoline. My strides were that of a little girl dancing between raindrops as I rounded the corner of the house.

The rain was steady and cool on my shoulders as I climbed through the net and slid onto the now-wet surface of the trampoline. I laid one comforter down hopped on and covered with the other--giggling to myself at how silly I would appear to anyone watching.

Strange how hard it rains now
Rows and rows of big dark clouds
When I'm holding on underneath this shroud
Rain

I lay there in my temporary cocoon watching the raindrops kerplunk! on the surface of the trampoline. The soothing rhythm of the rainfall beat lightly on my back as drops of water tickled any toes that might have snuck out of the bottom of my makeshift cover. I felt giddy and relaxed and rebellious--even protected-- as I lay there taking it all in.

Without doubt, I have had my fair share of challenges over the past few months. Stress has stolen from me the ability to find my inner "Katie-ness"...that part of me that delights in the simple, everyday pleasures of life. I have trusted others and been let down. I have given my all in certain situations only to find that the end result was not worth the sacrifices along the way. But all of those stresses and swirling thoughts of doubt fade away when raindrops are keeping you company.

Cause tomorrow's another day

And I'm thirsty anyway

So bring on the rain....

I found a little piece of myself today. I felt spontaneous and young and alive. All with the help of a rain shower, a trampoline and a couple of old blankets. I liked the Katie I spent time with today. I think I'll see if she wants to hang out more often.

All in a Day's Work

I had been watching the forecast all week...eyeing the 10-day weather tracker for Brentwood, Tennessee like a hawk and praying that the Isolated Thunderstorms icon would magically disappear. Having been an event planner for 16 years, I know my track record: If I plan it outside, it will rain. Period. So when the Wascom family hired me to plan an after rehearsal dinner for their son's wedding in an outdoor setting, the prayers for no rain began to fly.

June 24 arrived and I kicked it into gear. The day started with a few last minute errands and plans to be at the house by 11:30 to get set-up. Walking out of Kroger with The World's Officially Most Ginormous Fruit Tray Ever I felt confident and excited about the day ahead. I placed the tray on the front seat and cranked my car. Or, TRIED to crank my car but it was dead. D-E-A-D. No sign of life. 10 minutes later the hood is up and I am surrounded by four employees of that store assisting in the jumping off of my battery. Engine now purring, I thank them wholeheartedly and race to the venue to get things rolling.

And so the fun began.

Tables that were delivered the day before were rolled into the back yard. A call is placed to the rental company to tell them the chairs are not the ones I ordered. They dispatch another set to be delivered. I hold off on tablecloths in case the passing afternoon thunderstorm comes our way. Centerpieces I had made the night before were unloaded and supplies were brought in from the host's car. Plates and utensils were unwrapped, a candy/dessert bar was assembled, furniture rearranged, punch made, lighting set and placecards for the food and beverage were written and... my phone rings.

"Ms. Bodiford. We are here to deliver the chairs but no one is home."

No one is home because they have delivered the chairs to the billing address (MY house) instead of the delivery address (the venue). SIGH. Chairs are on the way, I leave instructions for chair placement with the homeowner and I race home to change and pick up a few more items I'll need for that evening.

As I pull in my driveway, the phone rings. "Katie, um, the new chairs they delivered are the same dark brown as the ones we have." Seriously rental company? A call is placed telling them we will use the darker brown but asking that they credit us for the cost of the chairs for the trouble. A quick 10 minute change and I am back on the road.

Arriving at the venue, I decide that we are past the threat of a rain shower so tablecloths are added, centerpieces and candles set, the caterer drops off food, food is arranged, candles are lit, beverages are iced, desserts are plated, guitarist arrives, music begins...

...and the guests arrive.

This is the moment I dread the most as an event planner. How will it flow? Do we have enough food? Will the guests have what they need? Will there be a comfortable vibe? Will it all go off smoothly?

Fast forward 30 minutes and it sinks in why I love what I do. The weather is gorgeous, the music being played by friends Dillon and Elise provides the perfect backdrop, candles are flickering, food has been devoured and there is plenty remaining, hugs are being shared, photos are being taken and there is laughter all around. Laughter and smiles and kudos are delivered to the host for the perfect evening. A smile stretches across my face as I take it all in.

You see, all the little behind the scenes glitches are invisible at this moment. The darker chairs do not matter because everyone sitting in them is laughing and sharing stories. The pecan pie that didn't plate perfectly is being declared by all as the best pecan pie they've ever eaten. The tight flow inside I worried about is a non-issue because everyone is hanging by the pool outside where I was certain it would rain...

What matters the most is a young couple and their families got to meet and mingle, laugh and create memories on this the eve of a very special day in their lives. Grandmothers meeting for the first time, babies cooing and nervous inlaws getting to know more about each other all made for an unforgettable evening. And as the sun went down and the guests slowly departed a barefoot and utterly relaxed hostess came up and gave me a big hug.

That's when I realized why I love my job so much. I may not spend my days saving lives, but I help people live them. And you know what? That is good enough for me.

Anyway

I debated about whether or not to say anything.

Martina McBride and I were the only customers in Party City this evening--she with her daughter and I with Jacob--and I couldn't resist sharing what one of her songs meant to me. As she looked my way, I said "well, Martina, I promised I would never do this but since my son is with me I cannot resist..."

I went on to explain about the day we got the call about meeting Jacob's birth parents and how petrified I was of the whole situation. I shared how scared I was to open my heart to let him in knowing his birth mother could change her mind and take him away from us. And that, as I was driving down the interstate, her song "Anyway" came on and how it instantly changed my perspective. I will never forget the feeling that swelled in my chest as she sang...

"You can spend your whole life building, something from nothing, one storm can come and blow it all away... build it anyway..."

Suddenly the haze lifted and my mind cleared. Yes, we are taking a risk by trusting this young woman. Yes, there is a chance we could have everything ready including our hearts and we could end up devastated. But the lyrics of the song gave me strength...

"God is great and sometimes life ain't good. And when I pray, it doesn't always turn out like I think it should... but I do it anyway......"

That was all I needed. I sat up straight, tears streaming down my cheeks and at that moment I made a commitment in my heart to love an unborn child that very well could not turn out to be ours. I chose to believe that all things happen for a reason and that the reward of loving and preparing for this new addition to our family outweighed the risk of a broken heart if she indeed changed her mind.

As I shared that with Martina, a smile slowly crawled across her face. She asked Jacob what his name was and he, of course, converted into Shy Mode and buried his face into my leg. She thanked me and I was ecstatic inside having gotten to share how much that song meant to me personally. It truly was the anthem of that entire adoption process.

"I sing......I dream.........I love............anyway........."

Thanks, Martina.

A Certain Madness

I love to write. I love putting into words even the most mundane things that occur throughout my day. Sometimes, truthfully, I love to write so that I am not the only one that knows what's going on in this crazy, mixed-up head of mine. And yet, I find myself going weeks, sometimes months, without logging a single word.

Why?

I hate to say it but I think I'm a lazy perfectionist. Is that possible? Every day, the perfect blog swirls in my head yet I never commit pen to paper--or finger to keyboard--to get it recorded before moving on to my next idea or the next thing on my to-do list. Sometimes it is just a lack of motivation but other times I'm afraid it's because I fear it's not "perfect." That it won't be worthy of someone's time and that is equally frustrating. I am as far from perfect as a person can be...why do I expect my writing to be? It's a madness I tell ya.

I am not going to make some big spectacle here and recommit to blogging something EVERY DAY. Instead, I'm going to give myself a break. I'm dealing with a lot of challenges right now...some I can write about and some I can't. But, what I can do is give myself a little grace and simply write when I can.

And maybe, just maybe, little bits of Katie will start pouring out again.

I guess if you're reading this, it's already working. :)

Hope for Hackleburg

I'm back home from my time spent in Hackleburg, Alabama. But somehow, I know I'll never be the same.

As I crested that same hill on day 2 of my efforts there, a certain realization sunk in. This town will never be the same. Although the scars of the land may heal in time, the emotional devastation to the core of such a tiny community runs deep. And day 2 in Hackleburg introduced me to more survivors that left me thankful for such an incredible opportunity. I can't bring myself to use the words "amazing" or "awesome" to describe the past couple days. It almost seems irreverent. But somehow, those words fit in many ways.

Amazing. I am amazed at the enormity of the destruction left behind by such a brief weather event. I am amazed at the fortitude of the townspeople I met--many of whom are elderly--and how they braved the storm in closets, hallways, and storm cellars. The response to the situation is amazing to me. The food tents set up on each corner next to semis loaded with supplies... from toiletries and clothing to many obscure things you'd never think about needing unless you had lost everything you owned. And mostly, I am amazed at the power of touch. A handshake, a hug, a touch on the arm to say "You are not alone. Help is here." In so many ways, I stand amazed at what I witnessed in that town.

Awesome. Even though the results were catastrophic, one cannot deny the awesome power of the weather cell that swept through the South on April 27. Awe-inspiring photos of the storm on the horizon continue to take my breath away. But to me, the most awesome part of the past couple days was the power of teamwork. A couple of us would see a homeowner working alone and stop by to offer help. And, without fail, what started as three of us sorting through the rubble grew to dozens of individuals from all over the country working together to make order were there once was none. Friendships were made, smiles were exchanged and a true feeling of community was felt. I will most likely never see any of those folks again...but for a brief time we shared a very important mission. That, to me, is awesome.

Now, as I try to insert myself into my normal routine and the task of being a wife, mother, daughter, sister and friend, I realize that a profound change has taken place within me. And the woman who is never at a lack for words simply cannot come up with the right words to explain it. Something is different. Something has changed about the way I view my surroundings. I look at the basket of Sharpie markers that I hold so dear and know that, in an instant, they could be strown miles from here. The dishes, and toys and knick-knacks that I spent time picking out to decorate my home could one day be wet and broken and tossed on a pile of rubbish by a woman named Sharon from Louisiana. It certainly puts the stresses of daily life and managing a home into perspective.

I am grateful for my time in Hackleburg...and that is not the last they have seen of me. There is much to be done. At some point the debris will be gone, the land cleared, some buildings rebuilt but the people affected by this storm will be forever changed. There are needs that go beyond toilet paper and bottled water. My greatest hope for Hackleburg is that this town will rebuild and thrive again.

That is my sincerest hope.

What a Difference This Day Made.....

The destruction around her was unfathomable. What once stood as her homestead--a modest house made of brick adorned with neatly trimmed bushes and whimsical garden art--now lay in a jumbled pile of twisted metal, bricks and scattered belongings. Almost oblivious to her indescribably tragic surroundings, Mrs. Ann sits in a tan leather recliner on the corner of her lot showing me pictures of how her house used to look. It's hard to believe the pictures are just a few weeks old. Hard to believe that in a freak moment of funnel cloud meeting ground, the life of an elderly woman in Hackleburg, Alabama has been forever changed.

As has mine.

As I drove on Hwy 43 South on my way to assist in the disaster relief efforts in this small town, I marveled at the beauty of the landscape. Lush green foilage enveloped rocky outcroppings and shimmering ponds lit up fertile pastures along the highway. As I passed the sign that read "Hackleburg City Limits" I was pleasantly surprised at the spring-like beauty of these rolling hills. It was then that I crested the last hill before entering town. What I saw defies explanation. Before my eyes was a swath of destruction that looked to be straight off a movie set. Leveled buildings interwined with piles of rubble and debris as far as the eye could see. Tears filled my eyes as I realized just how comprehensive the damages were. The schools? Gone. The stores? Gone. Gas stations? Gone. 80% of the homes in the town? Leveled. An unbelieveable sight at best.

The work of the day allowed me to meet some of the most remarkable people I have ever had the pleasure to come in contact with. I mentioned Mrs. Ann and her famous recliner. I embraced this woman for reasons that were initially unclear-- that was, until I started hearing her story. Lost her husband three years ago, no family to speak of and now all her worldy possessions lie in ruin a few feet from her. She had weathered the storm in a neighbor's storm shelter wrapped around two other elderly ladies--one of whom was 93. I listened as she recalled them linking their bodies together as they held the storm door closed to avoid being sucked out into the tornado. I would pass by periodically and check in on her, slather sun screen on her already toasty arms and neck and give her a much-needed shoulder massage to relieve her tension...if only for a few minutes. Mrs. Ann was a trooper and I felt very protective of her as we helped find anything worth salvaging in the debris.

A couple doors down stood a sprite of a lady in a light pink jacket and sporty sun visor. Ms. Geraldine was there to oversee the bulldozing and salvage of her family home...where her parents had lived and where she had created many a special memory. We spent a lot of time getting to know this special lady and I even cried with her as she broke down describing what her parents would have felt about all the destruction. I shared her pain as we looked at what was left of her family home and it reaffirmed why I was there. Ms. Geraldine is a class act and I am better for having met her.

Thennnn...there is Mrs. Pat. This woman begged us to help her find her "plates"--which I had to share were all broken and strown about the yard. Mrs. Pat was decked out in work boots, leggings and an oversized blue shirt. As I balanced on what used to be her kitchen wall, I lifted a fallen door and Pat exclaimed "you found my straw hat!!!" There, pinned under the wooden door was a half-bent, stained straw hat which she promptly placed atop her head. She was quite the jokester so I followed suit and tossed her a box of cake mix inquiring when she would bake it up for us...or why she hadn't "bothered" to straighten up if she knew she was having "company" (us). She smiled a warm smile and exclaimed, "if you can't laugh about things, life's not worth living." She is, without a doubt, my new hero.

I learned many things today. I learned that you can make a snap decision, jump in the car, drive hours away alone and make an unexpected difference. I learned that collegiate rivalries mean nothing when neighbor is helping neighbor recover pieces of their life strown about by nature's fury. I learned that organized chaos is the result of imperfect people doing a perfect job of trying to help others the best they know how. But, most of all, I learned that a smile, a handshake, a hug or even just a kind word can make every bit of difference in the lives of hurting people. I loved on people today. I cried with people today. I spent twenty minutes searching for Mrs. Ann's dentures and Mrs. Pat's dishes and sorting through pictures with Ms. Geraldine. And you know what? It may not have made a huge difference in the lives of these survivors.....

But it sure did in mine.

You Can Keep the Flying Cows...But I Do Love a Good Storm

The steady drum, drum, drumming

Of water on wood

Droplets splashing

Kerplunk!
A soothing rhythm
Enjoyable repetition

A steady lullaby

For sleepy eyes...

~ktb 04.27.11

* * *

The steady rain outside is soothing and, in a way, cleansing, but is a stark contrast to the fury that Mother Nature has unleashed lately. Tornado sirens have become almost commonplace and the dreaded "red cells" on the weather map seem almost expected.

Last night was no exception.

I piled the boys up in our bed and took my post on the couch to monitor the bad weather as it moved into our area. With each tick of the screen, the brightly colored swath inched a little closer to Franklin causing my heart to beat a little faster. The lightning flashed, the thunder boomed and I lay there under a soft, warm blanket taking it all in. At one point, I turned off the TV and let the flashes of lightning fill the room as the hard rain made music on the deck railings outside.

My love affair with weather started as a young girl as I took pictures of dark cloud formations thundering across the sky. My sister and I would curl up on my bed and count the seconds in between lightning bolt and thunder clap to gauge how close the storm was to us. With each count, the time between the two would grow shorter sending us into a fit of nervous giggles. My love of a good storm was firmly cemented from that moment on.

Maybe it's the thrill of the unknown that gets my heart racing as the dark clouds loom. Perhaps it's the break from monotony that turns the four walls of my home from just an ordinary house into a place that is secure and protective. Who knows? Regardless of what draws me to a good storm like moth to flame, I am hooked. I wouldn't get to the point of having a satelitte dish strapped to the top of a van and data reports of wind pressure spitting out of a machine in the back seat... but I can sure see a Chevy Tahoe out scouting around for a cool funnel cloud.

Care to join me anyone? ;)