Thursday, November 24, 2011

White Walls.

I’m thankful for…Well, I’m thankful for…Because…Huh.

So, about that new season resolution I made in September!

Don’t get me wrong, I am thankful. There are so many things on this blessed holiday to call to mind and not take for granted... But! It seems that as of late it’s hard to articulate the positive when all that seems to come out of my mouth is negativity.

See, I’m sitting in a room in my ‘house’ that is not really my room. I did not grow up in this room…this condo is not the place that I have fond memories or buried secrets. In fact, my parents moved into this condo about two months ago. Since then, I have called it ‘home’, in hopes to bury the old as quickly as possible. But the truth is...I’ve only ever slept in this room four times.

Over the years I’ve learned that burying the old as quickly as possible is the easiest way not to drown in the nostalgia for what once was. You see, this is not the first time I have sat in a foreign room, attempting to find solace in the familiar color of starch white walls. Familiar only in the sense that all the rooms I have called my own were this color [except for the Pepto-Bismol pink I begged my parents to paint my room when I was four don't hate].

I had always hoped the white walls would lend themselves easily to starting anew. That they would be the physical blank canvas to my life…but every time we moved they somehow became the link between the blanched walls of my prior room and the new. The memories I had in those prior rooms where I once laughed and played would come flooding back.

Of course, eventually, the memories of the old would join or be replaced with the memories of the new. Sooner or later I would forget the heartache I felt for my older ‘home’, but it was never an easy or quick transition.

I sound like I’m whining, don’t I? You’re thinking ‘so what…you’ve moved once or twice...’

Wait for it...waaaait for it....

I’ve lived in four houses, two condos, and five apartments.

I’ve attended a total of fourteen schools. Some parochial, others public…even home-schooled for a semester. I’ve lived in six states, each eventually became ‘home’ in their own unique way.


No, nice try, but I’m not a military brat.

I think I would have an easier time understanding why I had moved so often if my family was in the military, but it would be a lie if I said I was. Honestly, I think God likes to make sure my family never gets bored, so He’s constantly got us on our toes!

And I am thankful for the adventure He’s given us…but…

As I sit in this new blank room, where no memories have yet painted the walls of this blank canvas, I feel exhausted more than I feel thankful.

I ask myself questions about being settled. I beg God to explain why He’s made me feel uprooted so often. I wonder what life would have been like to grow up in one house or in one school. Would I have had a best friend that I grew up with? Would I have met the Cory Matthews of my dreams in seventh grade? Would I have known my neighbors so well that I would invite them to my graduation from college? Or to my wedding? Would people know me? Would people care? 

Would I be a more whole person?

Maybe I would. Maybe I wouldn’t be so crazy, so outgoing, so goofy if I had been given those things. Maybe I wouldn’t feel insecure about my looks or worried about my future if I knew what stability was. Maybe I would trust in humanity a little more had I not been hurt the way I was hurt through all the unsettledness of my youth. I could be different! I could be popular! I could be….

…everything but me.

But I like me.

And I like who Christ has molded me to be. Regardless of how difficult and strange this adventure has been…I’ve truly loved every minute of it.

I have parents who taught me that my trust should never be placed in humanity, but should be kept only in our Lord. Who taught me life is painful, but through the pain we find ourselves. Parents who held me as I wept in those new blank rooms because I was scared to go to a new school, or homesick for the old. Parents who I call my best friends, because they made me laugh at just the right moments. Whether it was by dancing a Mexican hat dance at six in the morning to wake me up for school, or by wrapping a towel around my head and calling me the queen of Sheeba…they loved me through each transition.

I have family who care about my future. Who ask how I feel, who love me and want to know that I’m doing well. Who remember each birthday and make sure I know they are thinking about me. Praying for me. Family who send me four GB's of music when they hear my computer crashed, family that want to see me on stage….family that want me to succeed.

I have friends all over the world, all over the country…people who love me and care about me with every fiber of their being. People that, only having known me a few months or a few years, know exactly how to care for me. The people that remind me being sane is boring. They are my angels, my hope, my joy.

I have a best friend who, by the grace of God, asked me to go to an art museum with her, completely out of her own shy demeanor…simply because she remembered how painful it was to be the ‘new student’. A best friend who, knowing my heart, has made each birthday spent together, special.  Five years of tears, laughter and dancing in the living room like crazy people…she made me feel like I fit somewhere.

And on this thanksgiving, these white walls that have so often been a screaming reminder that I am different, have suddenly shifted into the back drop of my vibrant life.

I cannot be contained in four white walls…I’m too unconventional for that. And my love, my Lord God, knows this better than anyone else.

This Thanksgiving is not about what I am thankful for, but who I am thankful for. Things are nice, but it’s people that have helped me color these walls of discontent, people that have painted my life with the most beautiful of memories.

And today I am most thankful for these amazing people, Lord.

I wouldn’t trade these white walls for anything. Because in these walls, in Your love and plan for me: I am made whole.

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone! I hope you had a blessed holiday!


  1. Wisdom comes through trials, temptations and persecutions and makes us whole. God chastises those He loves. You, Katey are loved. The fact that you are accepting and understanding is a gift. Keep growing and writing..<3