Kate Merrick's Blog, page 3

Whisperings Among Friends

Picture this: downtown Santa Barbara. Swanky mall with Spanish style architecture, terra cotta pots overflowing with bouganvilla, lemon trees and succulents abounding. Sipping on my green tea and clocking in some “office hours” while Fifi learns to share and not shove at school, I lean into some interesting conversation. Well, really, it’s eavesdropping, but seeing as I’m in such a classy environment, just roll with me here.

Says one blazer-wearing white-haired woman to her nylon-jacket-wearing white-haired friend, “I’m taking a figure drawing class.” 

Pause. 

Then, “Nudes!”

The other giggles girlishly and says nothing. 

“I had my first class last night. It was a woman. Darn! I was hoping for a hunky guy!” 
Again, more giggling.

Naturally, my ears perked up at this, but as the conversation turned toward her church and whether or not they liked the new pastor, and if the congregation should vote on something boring or other, I left them to themselves and turned toward my own thoughts. How many times have I giggled over coffee with a girlfriend and spoke candidly, letting whatever came to mind come out of my mouth and land on the café table? I have a solid handful of friends where nothing is off limits, nothing is taboo. From discussing nude figure drawing to PMS remedies, there is deep soul connection in being oneself with a true friend.

I think of these old girls, and how that could be me one day (sans the church politics). I think of all the hills and valleys over my years. Of the blood-sister contract I made with my lifelong bestie that she found years later rolled up behind a picture on her bedroom wall. Of the clothes I borrowed through my school days to the sugar and eggs I borrowed through my new wife days. I think of the nipple cream we shared and diaper rash tricks, and how now it's night cream and teen-wrangling tricks. I think of the prayers whispered, the shared sorrows. The cheering of one another on in career, parenting, health, and creativity. The grace of stretchy pants and the high fives of skinny jeans. 

The gift of friendship is a luxury. Hug a buddy today, plant a kiss. Send chocolate, share a new favorite song. But mostly, give yourself. It's the most beautiful gift.

love,

kate

 

Open Letter to Jesus

 

I love “A Charlie Brown Christmas.” On so many levels. In fact, for the last 10 years, I've played the soundtrack nonstop during the whole month of December. This year, I realized that what I really resonate with is Charlie Brown’s apparent inability to reconcile the true meaning of Christmas with what he is seeing around him. He is disgusted by the commercialism, and is desperately seeking something more real and true. He is seeking a way to enter into the celebration authentically, and to be rid of the shoddy imitation. And since I apparently think this cartoon boy is real, I have a hunch Charlie feels deeply for injustice and desperately needs some good news; he needs to see a light in the darkness. And even though toward the end of the show things in Charlie’s little world are still somewhat of a mess, when Linus shares with all the kids what the true meaning of Christmas is, there is joy and there is peace.

I often feel like Charlie Brown. How can we celebrate freely when there is so much wrong in the world? This year, just when much of my town, county, and state is consumed by wildfire, I realized I needed to reconcile darkness with the brightness of Christmas. I need permission to enter into the celebration, permission to enjoy the festivities even while there is still suffering, even while there is still unrest. While many are newly homeless, and while the ashes still fall.

Dear Jesus,

Your birthday is coming up. Christmas. The day we celebrate your dramatic and yet somewhat squalid entrance into this world. Birth is such a messy business, yet next to death, it’s the holiest moment of the human experience. And with you being holy and human, I believe it’s perhaps the holiest moment in history. And so, we celebrate. We celebrate the emergence of light, coming from within the darkness. 

For such a glamourous modern holiday, the actual historical details were much the opposite. The details illustrate the genesis of the holiday was in poverty, not extravagance. But really, the extravagance is birthed from the poverty, I think. Your mom was a virgin peasant, and yet she bore a king. Your human family wasn’t welcome in Bethlehem, and yet you became the most welcoming person in history. Your brand new tiny lungs breathed in dust and dung, while your ears and eyes witnessed the spectacle of heaven’s elaborate birth announcement. Your life began in conflict; conflicting darkness and light. It’s the story of your birth, and the story of your life. You are an anomaly; dear sweet baby boy, and future Conquerer.

Your birthday has become kind of a thing here in America. It is still very beautiful, sometimes still holy, but it seems to have evolved. It seems to have gone from earthy and deep to glossy and shallow. And that’s confusing. Every Christmas, I think about buying, I think about buying what others are selling and it’s not really adding up. Our world sells plasticized happiness. It sells empty promises of perfection. It sells the lie that the flawless and fancy life is the only one that can produce joy. It sells beauty that hasn’t ever seen pain, sells fantasy as reality. Our world sells spray paint and spackle to patch the cracks, and brooms to sweep the crumbs under the carpet.

Help me to understand the contrast. Help me to make sense of the abundance of food and merriment and glitter and cedar garlands and champagne, while so much of the world is askew. Help me to understand a way to participate, to see clearly and rejoice, to reconcile the way the darkness swirls around the light. Help me to understand the disparity between plenty and need, between belonging and rejection, between joy and sorrow, because it’s all there. Not all is right in the world, you know.

I want to be free this year, free to celebrate you with abandon. Free to set heartache aside and enter into joy. Free to feast and decorate and sing and play because of how you love us.

As I imagine what the first days of life were like for you, I have questions. Did you have any idea what was to come? The contrast, the polarity. I know your birth night was spectacular with the angels and stars and singing, the heavenly show, the golden glow, yet you were born in a barn. A place not meant for humans to sleep, much less for giving birth. You were presented with gold, frankincense, myrrh, yet others were out for your blood and willing to kill every child in the vicinity to get to you. While some rejected you, others worshiped. 

Did you ever struggle with the things that must have been said about your mother and family? The labels, the whispers. Things in your family had a rocky start, I know. I wonder if you ever felt less-than? Unwanted? I wonder if you felt like you were looking through a bright window at other people’s lives and saw only warmth and comfort, contrasting your own lot as dark and dingy? Because I know you were human, I know you were helpless, that you needed diapers and to be burped, that you learned to crawl and then walk. I know that you cried when you were teething, that you needed comfort when things went bump in the night. You were not exempt from life, from humanity. And you still came.

But my heart tells me there was something deeper than circumstances dictating your joy. Because the peace, love, and joy within you outshone the rejection, the death threats, the poverty. 

We share the human experience, Jesus. We do. You see the same hurts that I see, you feel sad like I do, because as you said, in this world you will have trouble. And trouble found you, beginning with a world that says “go have your baby in a trough, see if I care.” 

You know, Jesus, I think it’s your humanity that rocks me the most. I know you felt physical and emotional pain, that you stressed out and got tired. I know that you felt broken-hearted by those you love. You felt. You worked. You prayed. You thirsted. You cried. You laughed. You got mad. 

And yet, in all your humanity, in all your divinity, you pushed through the darkness, you scattered it and shattered it for thirty-something years. You loved and loved, and wouldn’t back down. This was the way you grew strong and wise and into the fullness of God’s will. In love, you gave freedom to a destitute woman, prostituting herself and bound by demons. In love, you lifted the head of the woman made an outcast by her 12 years of bleeding, you gave women voice and forgiveness and healing and freedom. In love, you gave sight to blind beggars, dirty and miserable, you gave men back their dignity and the ability to work and play through healing. In love, you raised the dead, both still on the deathbed and the stinky one already in the grave, even while the mockers bellowed. In love, you broke bread with those damned by their reputation, the thieves, the despised, the dogs of society. In love, you dedicated your time and attention to the uneducated, the marginalized, the sick, the destitute, the helpless. In love, you begged forgiveness for your murderers, while the blood ran down your body.

The prophet Isaiah was correct when he said: 
The people who walk in darkness shall see a great Light—a Light that will shine on all those who live in the land of the shadow of death.

That is us, and that is you.

We are waiting for you, Jesus. All month long we wait, we anticipate the celebration of your advent, you are the star of our December, the light at the end of the year.  And in the anticipation, I see the glow of contentment and hope and beauty. I see the light through the darkness. I see that the darkness has been overcome. I see that it was in darkness you came, that it wasn’t cute or quaint, but dirty and humble, and that even in radical circumstances, poverty, and rejection, there can be joy and celebration. There should be joy and celebration. 

There will be joy and celebration. 

Joy is more enduring than sorrow, light is stronger than darkness. I see it, I see it. We see the star, we see you. And you have filled us with joy! Your birthday is cause for a party, no matter what the world is selling, no matter what the circumstances. 

Happy Birthday, dear Jesus. Happy Birthday to you!

What's Cookin'?

More and more, I'm interested in holding onto what's beautiful. More and more, I am seeing the benefits of presence, of contentment, of slowing down and breathing in. And more than ever I'm hyper-aware of the choices we make that either support presence, contentment, and beautiful things, or tear them down.

We, in this culture, in this time in history, are surrounded with the luxury of what we eat, what we listen to, what we let into our precious personal space. We are sold a lot of things, yes, but we have the power to choose for ourselves. We are sold ideas and ways of life, and we must decide whether we want a part of it. We are sold a quick veneer, a glossy life of rushing around. We are sold quick fixes and instant gratification. We are sold the idea that hard work is menial and worthless, that nature is frivolous. We are sold the idea that activities like making art, reading, cooking, hiking, and playing music, are too hard, so just leave it up to the experts, leave it up to the shiny, packaged versions rather than attempt it for yourself. We are sold that if it didn't happen on a screen, then it didn't happen. We are sold that the affirmation of strangers is of more value than the affirmation of our closest people. We are sold that this is the better way, the way of technology, the way of advancement.

But I'm not buying it. 

Technology can be an amazing blessing, yes, but when it ceases to be a tool you own, and starts to own you is when we must pull back and put it in its place. When we feel less-than because we are jealously looking at others, put it down. When the yuck of culture crowds out the beauty of it, put it down. When we miss out on the real world because of the false one on our screens, put it down. When we become scattered and irritated and depressed, put it down. When we find ourselves sucked into a virtual world that takes the earthy, fulfilling, fragile beauty away from real life, put it down.

Let's find a rhythm of real. Let's find a rhythm of beauty, of strength, of confidence that we don't need all of what is being sold. 

There is deep satisfaction in the small things considered menial, in the domestic skills considered too hard for the amateur. There is deep satisfaction in a job well done. I have been finding so much satisfaction in cooking lately. The sound of the meat searing, the scent of the onions frying. The feel of competency when you chop and mix and knead, the relational heart surge when little hands join your bigger ones, when you put your masterpiece on the table. And the physical wellness that comes from food grown in the ground, from ingredients made by God and not engineered by men. The joy of the candlelit faces around the table, the prayers with sticky hands, prophetically thanking God for the dessert that she hopes is coming. I'm loving all of it.

I love the commanding of the kitchen, the familiar utensils and the bowls from my grandmother. I love lighting the candles, the rush to the table while the steam rises. I love the space and time carved out to create something that can bless. I love it.

So, here are some fun, practical tips for cooking dinner (and enjoying it):

I love to listen to podcasts! Some of my favorites for girl talk are The Happy Hour with Jamie Ivey, The Open Door Sisterhood (I'm on tomorrow!), and for younger (high-school and college) girls, The Wildfire Podcast (I'm also on this week!). For deeper spiritual conversations, I love The Bible Project, The Phil Vischer Podcast, and Theology in the Raw. And for homeschooling, I like At Home.

Buy beautiful plates and glasses! Mine come from thrift stores and the Anthropologie sale rack. Life is too short to use ugly dishes!

Put on a great playlist! I'm loving Evan Wickham's Christmas album. Play track 5 and you'll cry. Also, every year I listen to Vince Guaraldi's Charlie Brown Christmas, practically on a loop.

Light a candle. I love Mr. B's Necessities. The lavender rosemary is gorgeous.

Start with a clean kitchen. Just 7 minutes of cleanup from the day's messes gives a feeling of peace. It might look like a lot, but it goes super fast and is worth it!

Bring to the kitchen a heart of gratitude and sense of humor. Give thanks to God for the rad blessing of getting to smell and taste and be filled with all this glorious food! And if you totally botch the dinner which happens, laugh it off and serve cereal in a pretty bowl. Or just go straight to dessert:)

 

P.S. I just found out the Kindle ebook version of And Still She Laughs is on sale for $2.99 all month long! I'm pretty sure the deal is for wherever ebooks are sold. That's PRACTICALLY FREE!

Two Bucks

This is what siblings 13 years apart look like. I basically have two only-children. Sometimes when I get discontent with my family size or start looking at other families and pining after what they have, I get reminded that this is a beautiful thing. Not only does my daughter basically have three parents, but I have a manny! I mean, have you ever seen closer siblings share an ice cream cone? It just doesn't happen. I think I have a pretty sweet deal.

This post actually isn't about family size, teenagers, preschoolers, or ice cream; I just wanted to give you something cute to look at while I let you know of another book sale. I hate to be the promotion lady and have two posts in a row be about an offer, but as I am starting work on my second book (yes, you read that right, second book, I'm totally serious), all my writing muscle is going toward that. But I couldn't not tell you that my book is available in ebook form for $1.99 through September 8th! I thought five bucks was a score, but two bucks? Gee whiz! We are practically paying you to read it!

So, now's the time to share the link with anyone you know who might benefit from a little bit of hope, if you want to read a few funny stories, or feel like a good cry. Or maybe you haven't picked up And Still She Laughs because you've been holding out for a sale since you're saving up for a Hawaiian vacation (smart cookie), or if you are like me and just like a major score. I'm still shaking my head, two bucks! 

Five Bucks and Favorite Stuff

Hello Dears!

I recently came across the fact that And Still She Laughs is on sale right now for $5! Five Bucks! I mean, come on, people! You can't buy a burrito for five bucks. You can hardly get a cup of coffee for five bucks! But right now you can get my blood, sweat, and tears for so paltry a sum. Anyway, if you need some coasters for your icy summer lemonade, or perhaps if you, like me, spilled pizza all over your first copy and need a freshie, now's the time to do it. It's on sale here.

Since I had the excuse to email you all with that, allow us to catch up! One of my favorite organizations, Wonderfully Made, exists to help young women know their worth. I love these darling girls, and they are such an encouragement to so many through conferences, videos, studies, and a podcast, providing role models to strengthen and empower. They also produce short films of unique women who have overcome some radical stuff. The most recent one featured me! So, while it's totally mortifying to be videoed, much less while crying, I pray it can be meaningful to someone out there who perhaps needs to know she's not alone.

Moving along, the photo above is of our family vacay in Idaho and Montana. That's a glacial lake that we canoed across and had lunch. Here are my two chickens crawdad hunting. Where we go is extreme bear country, so much so, that as I'm picnicking on the shore I'm looking over my shoulder the entire time. You might think that's excessive, but no joke, last time we took Daisy to that lake we came face to face with a grizzly. We were driving along the old dirt road and passed a sign that says "Be Bear Aware." Daisy reads the sign aloud, then says "Hey, I see a bear!" And sure enough, there was a baby grizzly peering at us through the bushes. Naturally, we stop the car, because it's just SO COOL to see a baby bear! But then my husband decided it would be a perfectly sane idea to get a closer look, and so against his better judgement he's walking across the dirt toward it and I get all crazy and start screaming from inside the car, and thankfully he came out of his wildlife induced insanity and got back in the car! Where there's a baby, there's a mama... And we all know that moms of babies don't sleep much... I think that's why mama bears are so aggressive. That's my excuse, anyway.

Also, that picture was taken a few minutes before the canoe tipped and we all fell into the lake! Along with all our stuff, picnic and phone included! We stood on the shore dripping and looking like we were trying to decide between being super angry about it or cracking up. So we opted for the latter, and while peeling off soaked denim and squishy tennies, we decided it was just a little bit of poop;)

Since it feels like we're just catching up and hanging on the porch, and I LOVE to talk about what I'm reading, I will now coerce you into reading Darling Magazine, which is the most beautiful publication ever, and Wendell Berry's Hannah Coulter. I read it while in Montana, and WEPT through the last few chapters. The writing is so lovely. Just enough description to have an emotional response, but not so much that the story suffers. The author has so many profound statements, tucked snugly into the story like eggs in a nest. Plus, oh man, it made me want to farm so bad. I'm serious. 

I hope you guys are enjoying the MOST WONDERFUL TIME OF THE YEAR. I'm telling you, summer is my favorite. Have you sat outside under Italian lights burning candles and laughing with friends yet? Do it! Have you sunburned your nose, shoulders, and knees yet? Get 'er done! What about grilling every single item in your fridge and calling it dinner? Save me a piece of that corn!

It's such a luxury to just be normal, especially in the summer. I was talking with a friend last Friday who has also suffered great loss, and we agreed that normal is the new fabulous. 

That's it, friends. Now go outside and play!

Love,

kate

Grace to That

I’m 42. I know, it’s weird. When I read in the paper something like, “42-year-old woman falls into fountain and drowns,” or “bank robbery suspect is approximately 42 years old, female, blond, about 5’3”’ I immediately think what on earth is a woman that old doing out of her house? I’m not surprised. Or, oh man, mid-life crisis makes people do crazy things, poor old girl. And then I look in the mirror and remember that I, too, am that old. And perhaps that crazy. 

On the days that I drop my daughter off at preschool I like to get a little exercise in, and usually that means a hike in the mountains that cradle Santa Barbara, but today I I’d like to go roller skating. Yes, roller skating. I bought a pair of skates about 15 years ago and found them in the garage recently. Score! So, I shall go, and I shall feel like I’m 19 again. But I have yet to take a moment to see myself from another’s perspective. 

You know that perspective. We all have such a warped view of ourselves, inside and out. Rarely do we see ourselves as we should. We have those days when we look in the mirror, throw in the towel, and wish we could just head back to bed. “It’s a lost cause,” we mutter, and shake our heads padding into the kitchen in the fuzzy robe and pink slippers, retainer (yes, I know, the 80s called and wants their orthodontia back) garbling our speech and glasses askew. Or maybe that’s just me.

Then there are other days you might run into someone you went to high school with. You see that perhaps they might have sprouted a few grays, had a few kids, had naturally gone from lithe athletic 17-year-old body to the one that might bear a few scars, wears a few indicators of a life of heartbreak, or plain old genetics. And you feel better about yourself, since, let’s be honest—we grade ourselves on the curve.

A couple weeks ago I was hanging out down by the barn with my husband while he was taking a break from shaping some surfboards. Fifi and I like to head down there and water the garden, chase the chickens, and wax poetic with daddy for a few minutes. I was in the process of beginning a Whole 30 (a cleanse diet), which I badly needed. I was getting geared up for it and chatting away about how I didn’t want to be the one everyone shook their heads about saying that time was cruel to me. I don’t want to be the girl that just lets herself go, I said.

And then I plugged one nostril, took a deep breath, and blew the remnants of my lingering cold out of the other nostril and onto the gravel.

Britt looked at me incredulously (and super grossed out), and my eyes grew huge as I realized what just happened. Here I was, in this weird state between seeing myself as someone who is doing her best to hang on to youth and good taste, then displaying the revolting manners of a 16-year-old boy—and I realized I would need some grace. Not only would I need some grace, but I needed to set aside all my weight-loss-health-beauty-youth goals and have some perspective. (Not to mention manners.)

1 John 3:1 says, “See how very much our Father loves us, for he calls us his children, and that is what we are!” I’m pretty sure a daughter of the King doesn’t hobo-blow while telling her husband she doesn’t want to be one of those girls who lets herself go. Ironic, no? And mortifying. So, like my friend Al Abdulla taught me to say, there’s grace to that. 

Grace to that. Can you say that to yourself? Step back and take a good look at yourself in the mirror, ignoring the pimples or wrinkles or hair that won’t behave and say grace to that. Ignore the job you hate, the relationship status that’s lacking, and say grace to that. The sin that has you reeling? Grace to that. The habits that stick, the ones that both show on your exterior or quietly lurk in your conscience? Grace to that. The unmet hopes and desires that drive you to despondency, anger, to distrust God. Grace to that. You know what needs grace, even right now. 

Grace is what God is good at. The Message tell us from Ephesians; “Now God has us where he wants us, with all the time in this world and the next to shower grace and kindness upon us in Christ Jesus.” All the time in the world. There's oceans of grace to be had, and its got our names on it.

Regardless of our vanity or self-deprecation, our lack of grace with others or even our hobo-blow in the middle of conversation, we need that grace. Sometimes we listen to the myriad of voices that get piped at high volume into our hearts and minds that say “there’s no hope for you. You’re not worth much. You’re a lost cause. You’ve made a mess of things. You have nothing to offer. You’ll never be enough,” among other soul-crushing garbage. And, just like love covers a multitude of sins, love made us alive with Christ, and love is the greatest, love says “grace to that.” Grace to that. 

Say it with me. Grace to that.

I’m going to go roller skating, you know. Yes, I’m a 42-year-old woman who is going roller skating on the bike path by the beach, regardless of how she looks or what people think. I’m going to skate, feel the salty sea air in my hair, and be exactly who God made me. And all the voices that speak otherwise? Grace to that.

love,

kate

 

Feeling Bookish

This post begins with a bathtub shot of Fifi for two reasons: 1. She's the perfect example of why we should wear red lipstick in the bathtub, and 2. It's my favorite place to read! I just wanted to share a few good books I've been reading written by some  super cool friends of mine, so the picture adds to your viewing pleasure;) You're welcome.

We Stood Upon Stars, by Roger Thompson is a fantastic journey of a book. Britt and I both loved it (he endorsed it!). Roger is a friend from Ventura, surfer, adventurer, all-around phenomenal writer, and his book invokes wanderlust and wonder of creation. Plus, it's gorgeous and includes hand drawn maps of all the places he writes about. He's funny, thoughtful, and makes me wanna hop in a van and see where it takes me. PERFECT for Father's Day!

Choosing Real, by Bekah Pogue is the coffee date with the warmest person you'll ever meet. Bekah is the loveliest, most infectiously friendly and encouraging author you wished lived next door to you! Unfortunately for the West Coast, she recently moved to Nashville. Her book is for the girl who needs encouragement in her life when things don't go as planned. It's an often funny and deeply heartfelt conversation about where real life and faith intersect.

My dear friend Alison Trowbridge wrote a book called Twenty-Two; letters to a young woman searching for meaning. This is beautifully written and like having a life mentor who encourages you to live big, be kind, and make a difference. Perfect for high school and college grads, but secretly buy yourself a copy because it's that good! Plus Allie is beyond lovely, lives a courageous and adventurous life, and pretty much you'll want to be her sister.

Unafraid, by Susie Davis. I found this book a couple of years ago, when I was dealing with some pretty intense fear. It was so helpful, written in the style I love: friend to friend with a bunch of wisdom thrown in for good measure. Susie shares her years-long struggle with fear, beginning when she witnessed a murder in junior high. She writes about overcoming in such a relatable way. I happened to meet Susie this year at IF Gathering, and instantly I wanted to hug her and spend a week with her! She's really wonderful, has a beautiful blog, and I just might have been a guest on her podcast!

I always have a HUNDRED books on my nightstand, to the point where they are precariously teetering on the edge. Once in a while they all spill over onto the floor, and now they're stacking up on a little copper tray table by my favorite chair. Books have the power to speak into your life, to introduce you to new friends and heroes, and encourage you to live a deeper story. Whether it's the Chronicles of Narnia, Elizabeth Prentiss' Stepping Heavenward, or the book of Esther, dive in this summer! Goodness, truth and beauty awaits!

 

On Control

The night before Daisy landed in the hospital for her first diagnosis, I was busy. Doing a whole lot of nothing. She was tucked into her bed and I was sucked into the world-wide web. She was resting her little body which was about to come apart at the seams, and I was unaware, suspended in cyberspace scrolling through pages and pages of moisturizers on Sephora.com. Tinted moisturizers, age-defying moisturizers, pore-minimizing, light-refracting, wrinkle-wrangling moisturizers. You know the kind of sucked in, where an hour flies by and you realize you haven’t moved an inch, and you’re still unsure which of those over-priced under-delivering tubes to buy. A complete waste of time, but since my life was fully under control, it seemed a totally acceptable way to spend it.
Eventually I landed on some brand or other, typed in my credit card info, and perhaps putzed around my house for a bit before climbing in my four-poster bed, snuggling under a down comforter. Perfectly safe, perfectly secure. Kid in each room, check. Husband nestled next to me, check. Food in belly, clothes on back, car in driveway, check, check, check.
The story is now history, but as it goes, we ended up in the hospital the next day, then for the scariest subsequent 11 days of our lives. Awaiting the diagnosis in the E.R., the package of makeup was fulfilled in the order fulfillment facility. Praying on knees, grasping an IV pole for strength, the package was sent out on the UPS truck. Waiting with loved ones while a pediatric surgeon painstakingly removed the tumor from my daughter’s abdomen, the package enjoyed a cross country adventure. Countless nurses flew in and out of our room, armed with needles and drugs while countless hands passed my package in and out of trucks and shipping warehouses. Days and nights bled into one another, and finally the traumatizing hospital stay was over. I walked up to my front door, slid the key in the lock, and wearily looked down. The package from Sephora.com had arrived, in all its branded glory.
I kicked it across the room.
That box represented much to me. It represented the hour of my life I wasted shopping that I’ll never get back. It represented the illusion of security and the reality of life’s fragility sneakily hiding in distraction. But mostly, it rudely mocked my naïve idea of control. Without realizing it, I had believed I could basically control my life. You make good choices, you reap the benefits. Cancer was not supposed to happen to Jesus-loving God-fearing people. But there it was, proving me wrong.
But as life has a way of making sure we learn a thing or two, after a time of hating that Sephora box I began to be thankful for it. It taught me something beautiful about control. I can’t control a lot of what happens to me in my lifetime, but I can control how I spend it. I think we can believe the lie of “this is the way it has to be,” and give in to lesser things, but that’s not true. Things we think matter sometimes don’t, and things we think will be around forever aren’t guaranteed. Life is full of things we think we can control, fix, manipulate, but often we can’t.
It’s not just with cancer or tragedy, it’s all day, every day. We get caught up in stuff that’s tertiary, we let it consume us. That Sephora box showed me what I can control.
I can control how much time I spend on tech.
I can control how I speak to my loved ones.
I can control where I direct my focus.
I can control the trap of comparison.
I can control what I look at, what values I let in my heart and home.
I can control how much love I keep to myself, and how much I share.
I can control how much attention I give to what is important.
I can control when to say yes, when to say no.
I can control whose voice I give ear to.
Though it was satisfying to passionately punt that box, the tangible reminder is gold. Because who knows what tomorrow brings? But today we learn to lean in to real life, stop and listen to the sound of laughter. Today we learn to stop our rushing and offer a kind word to the old man in the grocery store, to the preschooler who desperately wants to save a snail’s life in the parking lot. Today we learn to turn off our phones and experience the world in actual color, not merely technicolor, complete with sounds and smells, and pollen and precipitation. Today we learn that life is sitting around waiting, and it won’t live itself. That’s our job.

Love,

kate

Public Service Announcement

Hi friends!

It has come to my attention that some folks have found issue with not being able to read And Still She Laughs because of the tears. They come quickly, like a flash flood, and they blur all vision causing the reader frustration that they can no longer see the words. Friends, I have a remedy for you: my publisher has released the audio version of my book! Now you can cry all you want, tears of sadness as well as laughter. Be frustrated no longer, because now a professional will read it to you. You can drive and listen, hike and listen, garden and listen, even change your baby's diaper and listen! The reader is also named Kate, and she is talented and lovely and is an award winner for The Fault in our Stars. (Also a tearjerker). Here is a sample: https://soundcloud.com/harperaudio_us/and-still-she-laughs-by-kate-merrick

Here are links to buy the audiobook:

·         http://christianaudio.com/and-still-she-laughs-kate-merrick-audiobook-download?gclid=CMeYk6eY7dICFctMDQodx0oDmg
·         https://www.audiobooksnow.com/audiobooks/and-still-she-laughs/1573381/?gclid=CIDN8a2Y7dICFdGCswodk6IH2w
·         https://www.recordedbooks.com/title-details/9780718098261
·         https://libro.fm/audiobooks/9780718098261
·         http://www.downpour.com/catalog/product/view/id/258550/?format=Download
 

I've also been notified that some readers have put the book down sometime in the first two chapters because it's so sad. Well, friends, there can't be true happy without some terrible sad. "Though sorrow may last through the night (or the first two chapters), joy comes in the morning." If you can get through the first 2 chapters, you'll find encouragement, sass, sunshine, TMI, and all kinds of other things that will make you glad you pressed on! Plus, there's a poop story involving a pair of corduroy pants:) You're welcome.

Please don't fear the tears, my friends. They are necessary to healing, a deep and healthy part of the journey of life. "Those who sow in tears will reap with shouts of joy!"  Psalm 126:5

Love,

kate

 

 

Birth, Death, and Celebration

Today is the birth day of And Still She Laughs. I'm praying it's the birth of new beauty, new freedom, new joy in the reader (maybe that's you!). I'm praying it births in us an adventuresome spirit, a fresh desire to go further up and further in. In life, with God, in love. It's the day of a little bit of pain but a lifetime of joy, of some hard truths, but full and deep blessings. It's the day of official release, and release is what I'm feeling. Releasing control, releasing emotions, releasing good news to whomever needs to hear it. 

Today is the day of death to myself. It's uncomfortable to have something so vulnerable out in the world for anyone to see. Almost like showing up at school in your undies. But I don't believe much is accomplished without sticking your neck out, so there it is. And you know? It's not about me, it's about God what He has done for and in a broken-hearted girl. And so today I share it with all of you. "Unless a grain of wheat is planted in the soil and dies, it remains alone. But its death will produce many new kernels-a plentiful harvest of new lives." John 12:24 NLT

Today is the day we celebrate all the ways God has given me laughter! Thank you dear friends, thank you for praying me through the pit. Thank you for holding my arms up so I can breathe. Thank you for celebrating the goodness of God, even in the depths of suffering. I will celebrate in faith all the awesome things God will do for you too!

If you live in the area, please come to the launch party! It's at Reality Carpinteria Thursday March 9th at 7pm. There will be lots of books there, I'll do a reading, we'll have some worship, and be defiantly joyful together! Plus we made some really cute daisy seed packets for you;)

If you'd like to share on your social media (I explain why I'm not on social in the book) here are some pretty images. Thank you for partnering with me to share a healing story.

Here are a few prompts for sharing my publisher wrote and put together to make it easy:

“My friend Kate Merrick just released a beautiful book, #AndStillSheLaughs, about finding joy even in the midst of heartache. Read the words I shared about it: [endorsement]”

“If you’re looking for joy and truth in the midst of suffering, my friend Kate has a book for you. Her beautiful words in #AndStillSheLaughs will both comfort and challenge you, inspire and ignite you. If you need these words, consider ordering a copy…you won’t regret it.”

“A beautiful soul and a beautiful book! My friend Kate’s book #AndStillSheLaughs is available now and you don’t want to miss this one.”

“Kate Merrick is a dear friend of mine whose story and testimony will knock you off your feet. This book will bless any and all who read it! #AndStillSheLaughs is available now.”

 

love,

kate