Finding a Thankful Heart, One Day at a Time

I usually love fall, October and November specifically. I love the change of season, I love that the heat of summer is gone. I crave boots and scarves. The crock-pot because a multiple times per week cooking aide. Ian is sort of home more...he's physically present but mentally miles away planning his annual two week hunting trip with his graduate school friends. He gets so happy and so excited, and even though I always miss him when he's gone, I love that he has this trip to look forward to after how hard he works during fire season. Thanksgiving is just around the corner and then there's my favorite event of the year: Christmas in the Nighttime Sky. I get more excited for Thanksgiving and Christmas in the Nighttime Sky than I do Christmas itself. I can't say this is the case this year. 

      

I've seen the posts on Facebook and Instagram of everyone's 30 days of Thankfulness. I can't decide if I find them inspiring or annoying. Shouldn't we be thankful every day of the year? Why must everyone declare their love for life for 30 days and then in real life and the rest of the year, be the opposite? I roll my eyes at the posts of "I'm thankful for socks" or "I'm thankful for air". Oh, aren't we all. On the inspiring side, I love seeing how people are thankful for second chances and loved ones. I love seeing people be vulnerable with their heart of thankfulness. Usually, I do my own Thankful 30 of sorts but this year, I've avoided it like the plague. 

Thanksgiving and Christmas in the Nighttime Sky have always been such an important part of my family. In the 25 years I've lived in Idaho, I have only missed it once and that's because I was in England. For whatever reason, I've always loved that my family made Thanksgiving work. I don't remember a Thanksgiving that we actually spent with blood family members but with people that have become family and that made it so special. I cry every single year when we all stand around the room, holding hands and saying what we're thankful for. I've waited my whole life to host Thanksgiving at my house. 

Thanksgiving was the first time I introduced Ian to my family. I was so anxious leading up to that day because we had been friends forever and only recently crossed into the dating realm. I still wasn't convinced that he even liked me (he often laughs at this because he called me two weeks prior from hunting camp....apparently that right there should have been my biggest clue because usually nothing can distract him from hunting camp). It was sort of a perfect disaster that day, my mom was at least 4 hours late in making Thanksgiving dinner so Ian spent a lot of the day in the garage with my dad while I paced around the house in a panic. That day was, unbeknownst to me, life changing. 

And this year, because of my parents divorce and the separation between my siblings and I as a result, I want to skip my favorite two days of the year. I'm mourning the loss of my family as I know it and also my favorite holiday (and the day after) because it's too painful to think about. It makes me angry and heartbroken. I feel the injustice that because my mom chose to leave her marriage, I shouldn't have to pay the price of split holidays and wrecked traditions but the reality is that I do have to do that.  I really don't feel like being thankful at all. 

So, I'm heading to Northern Idaho to join my husband and his best friends and their families and sharing my favorite day with people I don't know well. I'd be lying if I didn't say I was really nervous. But then, a sweet woman named Lauren (who's husband is my husband's great friend and preferred hunting buddy) sent me an email telling me that she forgets sometimes that we don't know each other well because if Ian loves me, she knows she will too. She told me about how happy they are to get to know me and share this day. And also, that it was ok for me to feel broken and overwhelmed right now. Lauren shared a spirit of thankfulness to me and I don't even think she planned on doing it. Her kindness changed me and calmed me. I'm still a little nervous but I'm also really thankful that I have a safe place to go where no one cares about my family, they just care (and are happy) that I'm there.

And this year, even though I'll probably cry, is going to be good. It's going to be more than enough. And maybe next year, I'll willingly leave Christmas in the Nighttime Sky because our North Idaho Thanksgiving will be one we want to repeat and make our own tradition. Either way, I'm thankful and more so, hopeful. 

     

For Better and For Worse

     

   

   It's been 368 days since I committed my everything to Ian. I walk through the home that we have together, full of incredible pictures taken by our incredible friend Sid and revel in how he perfectly captured moments that I didn't even know were happening. I look at my shoes that I kick off every day under our kitchen bar and see the cereal bowl with a few remnant's of Ian's morning oatmeal resting on the counter and smile at the little things that somehow just happen. I often filter through the stock pile of notes Ian has left me, thanking God for the one He gave me who understand my love of words.  There are feathers, super glue and other essentials to fly tying on our kitchen table and my books everywhere, they are an extension of us. It's only fitting that they are literally everywhere in our house. 

      Our wedding was a defining moment in my life. It was a labor of love of so many people. One of my best and life long friends came for 5 days and helped her mom make each and every aspect of the decor something that belonged in a magazine.Without them, I would have been lost. Their vision and ability to make a room take your breath away still blow me away. Our families came from all over the United States. I wish I could go back to those two days we were all together, eating, laughing, loving and just being us. I know my Beppe was looking down from heaven, beaming that the prayers she prayed over us all were coming to fruition. I loved the excitement of Ian and I's young cousins about being in Idaho and helping set up the wedding. I loved my sister being the one standing with me, like she always has. I loved the Idaho shaped sugar cookies. All of these people and things are such an important part of the beginning of our forever. 

     

I made a choice on October 27, 2012. I remember the day we got married and how utterly calm I was. Calm is not something I really ever am. The fact I didn't cry at all walking down the aisle or during our vows is shocking because I cry at everything. I don't remember much of that beautiful day but I do remember standing with Ian and vowing that "for better and for worse" I would stand by him, love him, work for his dreams, be patient and forgiving. I remember this sense of boldness coming to my heart when saying the words "for better and for worse".  I felt such conviction when I felt them leave my lips because I knew that I was committing something far beyond myself. 

     Loving Ian is the best choice I've ever made. When the syllables that made the words "for better and for worse" left my lips, I was unaware of the magnitude they would have on my life in the next year and that often both of those things would come in the same day. I was unsure of the mountains  ahead of us but confident in the one I set out to conquer them with. And our first year of marriage certainly didn't lack for mountains. 

     I could tell you all the hard things that we experienced these last 12 months. Some would be pretty typical for most couples and other things would make you want to come over with some Champagne and celebrate with us. We sure did have a lot of really rough moments, day/s, maybe even weeks...but we also have a 368 consecutive day success rate for overcoming them. It wasn't always pretty. And there were lots of tears on my part and many hours spent in the garage on Ian's part. I'm a firm believer in that the one you choose to join your life to dictates a lot of how your life will go. 

    

      

But for every struggle, the victory was so much sweeter. Each mountain top was worth the work we put in together to get there. I learned that the better part of things were often the small, seemingly insignificant things. It is post it notes plastered all over the house, silly and sappy. It is peanuts and beer while watching the Yankees at SafeCo field. It is surf and turf dinner together on Christmas Eve, reveling how great it was to be a family and make our own traditions. It's reading on the bank of the river while Ian fishes and realizing how happy we both are together, even doing different things. It's those treasured 3 minutes on the phone in the middle of fire season that give both of us the reassurance that we are thriving and each other's biggest supporter. I could go on and on, counting out all the perfect things that happened in the most difficult and beautiful year of my life. 

     I am so thankful for the man God gave me. I'm thankful for his patience with me. I'm thankful for the level of intelligence and work ethic that he puts forth in all he does. He is diligent and relentless in his pursuit of life. He is my Ephesians 3:20.  I know that our better far outweighs our worse. I will say yes to this man and our life for the rest of my days. 

    We celebrated our year of marriage with a trip to the Tetons. And it was there that I fell in love with Ian all over again. Knowing that if our mountains turn out anything like the Tetons, we are blessed.  

     Cheers to one year with the one I love. 

(I can't seem to get our wedding video to link to this so if you'd like to see it, go to:
YouTube, search Sidney Diongzon and you'll find "Ian and Katie: An Autumn Wedding")

Enough

     I remember being a gap toothed, knobby kneed girl who buried herself in the life stories of Nancy Drew, Anne of Green Gables, Esther and countless other strong, heroic females. I always wanted to be them, failing to see myself as enough. I wanted the bravery of Esther, to change the course of History with her self confidence and obedience to God. And Nancy Drew was adventurous, smart and had the world's two best friends. Anne of Green Gables was spunky and a dreamer. And I was just a little blonde girl who looked in the mirror every day and saw everything that I wasn't instead of the incredible things that I was. I saw freckles and blue eyes that seemed just a little too big. I saw a girl whose eyes filled with tears at every heartbreak and who was too scared to make friends because she was bossy, insecure and somehow shy. (At least I felt that way, my mother though feels that I was far from shy.) 

     I spent most of my childhood and heck, most of my life, wishing away the here and now. I wished for less freckles, to be older, to win Star Search, to own my own library, to never have to go to another sleepover, to have a best friend. I wished away so much because I was so busy convincing myself that I wasn't enough that life passed me by. I tried to be a party girl in college and failed miserably because I just love Jesus way too much. I tried to be the smart career girl and that fails miserably every time. I look at myself in the mirror and see 20 unwanted pounds, dark circles under my eyes and those damn freckles. Here I am, at 28 still seeing the grown up version of that gap tooth, blondie whose dreams were so big but confidence was so small. And I wonder, what would happen if I lived in the right here, right now?

      Life hasn't been very kind lately. My family is falling apart before my eyes. I'm in yet another transition period vocationally and because I don't have a piece of my paper validating my worth, the job hunt is taunting. I'm sort of settling in as a wife but I still have so much to learn and find myself wishing I was just like whatever wife I think is outdoing me. My friendship circles have changed drastically and I've been hurt by people I was so raw with and even though it's supposed to be going away, it still stings more than I'd like to admit. I feel let down and not good enough. I say that it doesn't matter and that it's ok to be treated the way these "friends" treated me because as the saying goes, "hurting people hurt people" but I can't live that way with any sense of honesty. 

      I don't want to be the girl who sees herself as not enough in every single capacity. I want to stop defending myself to everyone I find it necessary to do so. I'm exhausted from trying to prove that who I am, where I am, right here, right now is enough. And not just enough...it's beautiful and lovely and real. 

I may not have a college degree that deems me worthy of a certain pay grade, but I do have a heart that loves people and that does take me further than any dollar will (note to all of you who think I'm just living on a prayer: I'm not...I'm simply saying that my heart and my character mean more to me than a paycheck and I don't define who I am by the work that earns the paycheck I bring home). I may not be supermodel hot, but I do have a husband who loves me and makes a point to tell me how much he loves those damn freckles and blue eyes. I want to be one to be gracious and to find beauty in the ugly but not ignore the pain. 

     Wouldn't it be a beautiful thing to find it amongst ourselves to take those closest to us and love them right where they are instead of trying to fix them or their situation? To walk together in grace. To look at our life and not be disappointed to the point that, like me, you let life go without you but rather to find the joy in the journey of now knowing it won't stay that way forever. To extend a hand when it's needed simply because we love the one who needs it rather than because we have the answer they need.

     Simply Kate isn't just a blog title. It's who I am, day in and day out. It's a mixture of laughter and tears, triumphs and falling flat on my face and then being run over by the world's longest train. I am real. And I am enough. 

A Perfect 10

Dear 10 Months of Marriage-

I feel like it's taken us forever to get to you and then in the next second, I can't believe it's only been 10 months since you changed my life forever. I've looked forward to this day for a while now, knowing that if we could make it 10 months, we are only two months away from one of the greatest celebrations in our lives. I've learned in these 10 months though, to celebrate the small steps along with the huge leaps and that's why I'm writing to you.

You've consumed our lives, Marriage. You are on my mind at any given moment of the day while I weave my cart through the aisle of my favorite grocery store, seeking inspiration for a new meal that will wow my treasured husband, keeping in mind I'm already running later than I planned to be. I think of you and how you've changed my life for the better when I'm trying to fall asleep in our huge bed when Husband is away fighting a fire. I'd give just about anything for him to be home but I'm so at peace knowing that our marriage is a strong foundation on which we are building our life.

You are the reason I love holding Ian's hand. I love feeling that dry, rough skin remembering our first night in Jamaica where we marveled at our new wedding rings in the moonlight.  We added to our forever plans on that beach. Some were simple ones like scuba diving together, taking advantage of mimosa's with breakfast and promising to always kiss goodnight. Others were major plans of babies, investment accounts, our mutual desire to have a house full of books and how I would never be the one to make the coffee because Ian can't drink sludge at home when it's often the only option at fire camp. I remember Ian continually fidgeting with his ring, his slight grin so obvious without his beard. I love this daily reminder of the covenant we made before God to be great forgivers, passionate lovers and each other's protectors.

You've been a challenge, Marriage and I know you'll still find ways to test us. In the last ten months though, thanks to you, our trust is deeper. We laugh so much more and are learning not to sweat the small stuff. My tears ducts are still very over active but Ian's patience has grown. I cry, he laughs, we kiss and then I sigh with contentment that I married the one my soul loves. You've forced us to be ones who listen to not just the words of each other but heart. You had stretched us as forgivers. Without you, both of us may still be too independent for our own good. Our horizon has expanded, our sense of adventure has heightened. We are better together than we ever were apart. Our differences are pale in comparison to our similarities.

We've embraced you, Marriage and we so look forward to what you have in store for us over the next 80 years or so. We're excited for the day that we're celebrating 10 years instead of 10 months. We can't wait to look back on this year and see how strong we are and yet full of grace. May you always remind us to love as fiercely as we currently do. May we continue to celebrate you with sticky notes plastered all around as a  Welcome Home. Please let us always find things to laugh about until we don't even know why we are laughing. Let us fight fair, for our marriage, our love, our family...but remind us to always fight together and never against each other. Give us babies (one at a time and not quite yet), and wisdom to prioritize us when huge change occurs. I hope we always find the joy in evenings spent drinking tea and watching football, knowing that it's the perfect pair on a perfect night because it's so us. Help us to never compare our love to anyone else's because ours is more than enough. 

Thank you for changing us. Thank you for taking over the every day and giving new meaning to life. We're going to keep you around, Marriage- at any expense. We made it 10 months into one of the toughest years of our lives and we are still standing, still loving and so looking forward to the future. We're going to give our best so that our marriage will be one that our great-grand kids strive for. Centered in Jesus. Abundant in love. Forgiving and kind, laugh lines obvious when we smile. 

The kind that makes by-passers stop for a second and hope for the same flame with the one they love. 

Here's to forever and a day with the One I prayed for and would give my life for. 

The best is yet to come! 

Love, 

Katie 

Summer Lovin'

My dear blog has been severely neglected over the summer, much to my chagrin. I think of it daily but I've been so overwhelmed with writers block and the desire to overshare so I've avoided this place. But not tonight, I can't resist the urge to share tonight. So here I sit, sipping on a glass of wine, sort of watching Mountain Men, missing the hubs and also so happy at all the love my summer has consisted of.

I think every now and then we all need a reminder that sometimes love isn't about cupid. Love isn't  always a war. Love isn't always feelings, sometimes it's moments. I've really been reminded lately in little ways how although Ian is often gone, I still have great summer love happening. Would I prefer for him to be here for it, absolutely...but that isn't our life so I choose to love my life no matter where the one I love is.

Here's a look at how lovely this summer has been.

I took Ian to Seattle for his 30th birthday to see the New York Yankees (yes, he is a real, life long fan who attended games as a kid. No bandwagon comments, please) play the Seattle Mariners. We had 4 days of fun in a city he had never been to doing some exploring but mainly eating seafood. 

The flower stands are always my favorite at Pike Street Market. 

A perfect night on the giant Ferris Wheel over the water. We timed it perfectly and saw a stunning sunset. (Also, I cannot handle how cute that bearded smile is!!) 

The perfect all-American birthday. Beer and baseball. (Don't ask which one we spent more money on.) 

Celebrating my birthday on the viewing deck of the Space Needle. It was incredible to actually spend our birthdays together (this has never happened for us so we soaked up the celebration time!) 

We ended our time in Seattle laying in the grass by the fountain, listening to music and thanking God for 4 uninterrupted days together during fire season. 

Sister time! Both Emma and I have had a lot happening over the summer and most of it hasn't been on the fun or easy side of things. We snatched up the opportunity one night for some quality time together which resulted in the picture below which clearly needs no caption. I am always so thankful for God giving me this one as a sister. She is all together lovely, hilarious, wise and so fun. 

Spontaneity. 

My incredible friend Serrah is a wild land firefighter and so summer for her is usually spent away from home, sweating profusely and lacking free time so this past weekend we grabbed the rare opportunity of both of us having a day off and ventured to Sun Valley for an incredible outdoor symphony. And the wine was ALMOST as good as the music. 

Home Improvements. 

I've loved spending time making our house feel like more of a home than a bachelor pad. I feel like we've reached a middle ground that suits both Ian and I. Knowing that our bookshelves are mixed with books we both love, our yard was a project we did together and seeing the antlers he's collected mixed in amongst our decor just makes this space feel like our stamp as a couple is on it. 

Birthday Flowers and Celebrations with my "Net"

What girl doesn't love a gorgeous delivery at work from her favorite florist? 

 (I value and appreciate these women like no other! They have been such needed parts of my life this year. They are the net that catches me when I fall and I'm ever so thankful for them. My birthday dinner overlooking that canyon was unforgettable.) 

Husband with my favorite 3 year old. What more do I need to explain??

LOVE 

Tupper Lee. 

My best friend Whitney gave birth to sweet Tupper Lee last September. I remember Whit placing Tup in my arms a mere 3 hours after she was born, introducing me to Tup as "Auntie Kate". I was instantly taken with this blue eyed babe who has always had major cheeks. This summer both Whit and Tup have been a huge source of love for me. I love loving them! 

These balloons were a part of a fun project I did with some kids. We wrote love notes to their mom and dad, tied them to the end of the ballon and then let the balloons float to the ceiling in their living room. I love this picture simply because it just looks like happiness but also because at the end of each string was a declaration of love. 

I hope no matter where you are today that you take just a minute to find the love that's all around you! 

Faith & Fire

Sunday night was so normal. So normal and I crave normal during fire season. There was a few episodes of the Office, frozen pizza for dinner and sheer, unspoken thankfulness that Ian's work phone hadn't gone off, even though the western United States was ablaze. I'm chattering a mile a minute, making sure I get to inform Ian of every ridiculous thought I'm having because goodness knows, when he's gone I may end up going crazy with all those words unspoken. He's nodding off, I'm still chatting away, asking less questions but still poking him to at least get a small grunt that he's sort of listening to me. And then we hear his text alert go off and suddenly I have no words. Ian groans and reaches for his phone and mutters a few things. I ask if everything is ok and he doesn't respond. He didn't need too because I could tell by his stance that something was very wrong. 

When I heard the words "A whole crew was burned over", I just felt disbelief. The next few instants were a blur as I asked immediately if Ian's former crew, The Sawtooth Hotshot's were ok. In between Ian responding to his friend who had let us know about the tragic loss of Granite Mountain Hotshots, we immediately turned on the TV, grabbed our phones and were intent on finding out the who, what, when and where. We didn't want to know why. 

My world was rattled on a level I had never thought would happen before. As long as I have known my husband, he has been a wildland firefighter, more specifically- an elite wildland firefighter, he was a Sawtooth Hotshot (now, we are more blessed because although he's still in fire, he is a Fire Planner and thus home more than a Hotshot usually is). I've never known anything other than this life for Ian. In the 8 years that I've known him (3 of which I've been his main squeeze, prayer warrior, put on a brave face girl, biggest cheerleader and then some), I've never really worried he wouldn't come home. I can't say I love every time he's walked out the door, pack thrown over his shoulder, not knowing when I'd talk to him next but I can say I always knew he was coming back. To know an entire crew had been lost, made me sick to my stomach. I cried silent, angry tears. Tears full of sadness. Tears of relief that my husband was home and not  battling the orange dragon. I cried because I felt helpless and I cried because I knew he would be heading to some fire the next day. 

(This photo is copyrighted and taken by Conrad Piper-Ruth, great friend of ours, who is also a former Sawtooth Hotshot. 
I do have permission to use his photo)

We let his parents know both he and his brother were safe. We asked our friends for prayers for the families of those who died and for peace for those brave men and women still fighting fires. I received a phone call from a dear friend of mine, also a fire wife, and we wept and prayed some more. I went to bed and cried in my husband's arms, asking him who would come to the door if something were to happen to him. I demanded it be someone that I knew, someone who would not leave me be in my darkest hour, someone who worked with Ian and knew my name in real life and not just on the paperwork. I didn't sleep at all. 

For the next 24 hours, my heart just hurt. I would catch myself holding my breath. Ian did leave for a fire, kissing me goodbye in a parking lot, promising me he would be safe and come home. He was determined to go and fight fire, honoring the memory of those who had heroically died less than a day before. I have never felt such pride to be a wildland firemen's wife. 

It isn't an easy job. It isn't easy to let your better half walk thru the door at any given moment from May to October, not knowing how long he'd be gone. It isn't easy to make plans to have them thwarted by the winds of change demanding that Colorado needed him more than me. It isn't easy to see each other less than 20 days in 5 months. It isn't easy to celebrate most birthday's without the man you love year after year. It isn't easy to answer questions constantly of where is he, how is he and when is he coming home. It isn't easy to watch the news and see the utter bullshit they report, knowing that what my husband and I live is drastically different than what they portray to America. It's not easy to know my husband risks his life for trees and vacation homes. It isn't easy to feel loved and give love. But, goodness gracious, it is worth it. 

(This is also on of CPR's pictures, used with permission)

Fred Rogers said "When I was a boy and I would see scary things in the news, my mother would say to me, 'Look for the helpers. You  will always find people who are helping'.". The Wildland Firefighter Foundation is an incredible foundation located in Boise, Idaho that provides immediate and necessary financial assistance to the families whose lives are altered because of something that happens on the fire line. Injury or death, this foundation is a consistent helper. Please take the time to view their webpage to see exactly what they do and how they do it. We are faithful supporters and regular donators to this organization. If the loss of the Granite Mountain Hotshot Crew, your connection to me or just a simple curiosity yearns to be met about what Ian and other Hotshots do, please read  this article 
written by a former hotshot who returned to the line for a journalistic assignment. Keep in mind, this is a glimpse at one specific crew. Each crew is somewhat different because their leaders are individuals with different mindsets and action plans. This article is one of the best representations of the reality these people lead 6 months out of the year. It's a harsh reality our news sources fail to convey. 

(CPR again, his photo's are incredible. His video documentaries are even better. Again, I had his permission to use his photo.) 

I will be a fire wife for life. It won't matter if Ian is on the payroll of the United States Forest Service or not. These men and women and their families are our families. We are united by a brotherhood, a sisterhood of loved ones who sacrifice immeasurable levels for strangers. We are united in being wives who do so much alone. We are united in bravery both as firefighters and homefront protectors. It doesn't matter to me that our government will never recognize Ian and his friends efforts with Medals of Honor and Bravery because in my heart and in my home, they are the cream of the crop. They are the bravest men on earth and I will honor that in them until my dying breath. 

                                          

He's a brave one and I love being his wife. 

Like Father, Like Daughter

     He stands 6 feet 6 inches tall but I swear he's taller. He has sharp blue eyes, freckled skin and until a few years ago, the best beard I had ever seen. When I was a kid, he built not one, but two incredible swing sets complete with the add on of a teeter totter for my brother, sister and I. He used to take me along with the feed stores, sale yards or even on simple loader rides while he filled the trucks for whatever feedings he had later.

      His heart is bigger than his manly frame. He is a giver like you wouldn't believe. People often think he's gruff but really, his bark is so much worse than his bite. His physical strength is astounding, I still believe he rivals any Super Hero out there. He's intellectual both in thought and in action. The world has a lot to learn from his brain and his heart. 

      I learned from him how to be a blesser. I learned that there was always someone other than me who had real needs and that my wants were not always as drastic as I made them seem. He showed me by example the difference between giving someone a hand up rather than a hand out. I learned from him how to hang picture frames, using a paint stick and nail to mark the spot. I caused both of us severe stress when I got my drivers license but I know I could pull a trailer if I needed to because he taught me, despite how not fun that process was. 

     We are cut from the same cloth, my dad and I. We both have those Dutch blue eyes, the Wiersma nose and big feet. Our heartstrings are tugged by meeting needs for people (don't ever let us watch Extreme Home Makeover or Undercover Boss). We both do better in small groups and often flounder our way through parties or anything of the like. We both think too much, don't let things go or try to fix everything. 

     My dad is one who has positioned me to see so much of the world from standing on his shoulders. He bought plane tickets to England and sent me on my way, trusting that I knew this was best for me. He comes and fixes things in our house when Ian is on fires and I just can't muster the gumption to keep everything under control alone. He knows I like tea and never offers to get a "coffee" with me, even though we are going to a coffee shop and that's what he's drinking. He feeds my literacy addiction by renwing his Barnes and Noble membership card every year, I know I use it more than he does. He's let me cry and then reminded me of the strength that I have. I could go on and on about how blessed I am to have this gentle giant as the who led me through 27 years before handing me over to Ian. And even though I'm married, I still know where I came from is a huge part of what I have to give and who I am today. 

     He isn't perfect but neither am I and that's a beautiful thing. In my 28 years, I've never known anyone like him and know that I never will. He's irreplaceable. He's a work in progress that I am fiercely proud of. He's my dad and I wouldn't ask for anything more. 

     So, thank you, Pops, for who you are. Thank you for letting me discover the world one trip to England at a time, one chai tea and a Duncan's pizza or two. You could have thrown in the towel, abdicated your role when it all got to be too much. You didn't though. You've labored tirelessly, endured so much and still loved me in the midst of it all. You are celebrated and loved.

30 before 30

My handsome husband is turning the B-I-G (and apparently dirty) 30 today and I just cannot contain my excitement. He, on the other hand, is not loving life, is not excited and strategically not answering my phone calls or any of my 30 texts. (I've really only sent 2 but my goal is to send 30 today, one for every year of his wonderful life.....). My celebration on his behalf has made me think about my last two glorious years in my twenties and what 30 things I can and should accomplish between now and then. I have two years and 6 days to make this happen. Some of these I will drag Husband along for since you know, he's 30 (older, wiser, richer, smarter as he should be) and would love to participate in making all my twenties dreams come true. (I made the part up about him loving participating in ALL of this.)

1.  Join a book club, read the books and then actually attend the get together where you discuss them.

2. Go back to England for a visit (or move. Either one needs to happen though).

3. Paint the inside of our house so that every room is no longer "Bachelor Pad Cream" complete with pasta stains and fly tying feathers super glued to the base boards.

4. Read "The Great Gatsby".

5. Go on a girls trip. Leaving the state or country is mandatory.

6. Become a successful living on a budget and building a savings person rather than failing with all things money almost all the time.

7. Train for and complete a half marathon.

8. Try hot yoga.

9. Grow a garden with a variety of herbs, veggies and maybe some berries.

10. Learn to knit.

11. Speak at a women's dinner or conference or something.

12. Be published in some sort of way outside the internet.

13. Have a baby or at least be pregnant with one.

14. Brush up on my memory verses from years gone by.

15. Go on a hunting trip with hubs and not hate more than 80% of it.

16. Volunteer at a local retirement home, soak up the wisdom of those who have lived massive amounts of life.

17. Make peace with my brother.

18. To pray with someone who needs hope.

19. To be at ease with who I see when I look in the mirror and not wish I was different in so many ways.

20. Keep our house pet free. (this goal I hope is the case when I'm on my death bed).

21. Get at least two stamps in my passport.

22. Give juicing a chance, it's really got to be so healthy for me.

23. Pay off my car.

24. Write letters to whomever I choose once a month, try to at least detach myself from my Apple product oriented world.

25. Be less fearful in general. Embrace who I am at any given moment without judgement.

26. Watch less crap television, read more and converse more.

27. Host a holiday dinner, complete with pie crusts made from scratch.

28. Give more, expect less and embrace adventures in the every day.

29. Learn more than 3 players names on the New York Jet's football team so that my "cool football wife" status is far more valid than my current mediocre mumbling of players names while yelling at the tv.

30. Build my own in house library bookshelves.

Now, where to begin????

I Said "Yes"

It was a year ago today that Ian changed my life forever. I was sitting on the couch, exhausted from the prior 5 days in Texas, saying goodbye to my Grams and also so not ready to face the fact that Ian’s crew was available for fires the next day which meant he could potentially be heading to any place burning in a few short hours. I had already said one incredibly difficult goodbye to one of the core people in my life, and although I knew Ian wasn't going to die and that our goodbye wasn't for forever, I just didn't want him to leave. I couldn't bear the thought of him lacing up his boots, throwing his pack over his shoulder, jumping into The Stranger (his beloved pickup), and heading straight into two weeks of fire blazing hell. So I put on one of his Sawtooth Hotshot t-shirts,  sat on the couch and fought back the tears while I prayed that it would all get easier.

I distinctly remember thinking that I was brave like my Gram. She was far more fun than I've ever been, a ferocious pool player and always the one to take us on the big rides at Disneyland. Gram was a joker, her blue eyes twinkling as she came after you with a squirt gun. And she was ever so brave. She met my Grandpa before WW II, married him in a courthouse and they had great love. He died way too earlier but that didn't stop her from living her life to great extents, always brave. I always remember her as fun and brave. She was the perfect combination of the two. After saying “Goodbye” to her the day before, I felt so empty because I didn't want to know life without her. But as I sat on that couch, preparing to send the one I loved to some fire somewhere, knowing we wouldn't talk and I’d be checking the reports compulsively until the two weeks was up, I felt a bit of my Gram’s fierceness in me. She did this with my Grandpa but she sent him to a war. Her blood is my blood and if she could do something far more difficult than sending a man to a blazing wildfire, so could I.

Ian interrupted my thoughts by fiddling around with a camera in the kitchen, and I thought nothing of it because I knew he was planning to take it with him to document his adventures on the fire lines across our incredible country. Then he came and stood in front of me telling me he needed to talk to me and to please stand up. I refused telling him we could converse just fine with me sitting on the couch. He insisted and finally I gave in. The thought had not at all crossed my mind that this was it, the moment I was convinced was never going to come from this bearded man who had captured my heart despite all my best efforts to not let that happen. 

And so as I stood in the living room of what would be the first house we bought, hair in a mess, blue eyes swollen from great sadness, wearing an old sweat stained Sawtooth Hotshot t-shirt, I watched Ian drop to a knee, grab my right hand and simply say “Will you marry me?”.

Most girls I know of shrieked in joy, shed a few tears and beautifully answered “Yes”. Not me. I looked at him and reciprocated with “ARE YOU SURE????” Ian patiently just looked at me while I repeated that same question a few times, and then I realized he was putting the ring on the wrong hand and so in between the “Are you sure?” was a few “LEFT HAND, LEFT HAND!!”   

And then I said yes.

 

No one tells you the great capacity of saying yes. It’s obvious that you’ll soon be showered with questions that you will be answering like a robot for months to come. It’s obvious that suddenly you are obsessed with all things wedding and in my case on a fast track to being the worst bride in the history of wedding planning. Saying yes meant joint checking accounts, name changes and double the laundry. But it goes so much deeper than a wedding. I'm still learning what that "Yes" means a year later. 

What I didn't realize at the time was the saying yes would be one of the greatest decisions I ever would make. I know that people say that getting married was the best day of their life, or maybe the day when they welcome their children.  To me getting married was great, but getting engaged was better. There would be no wedding, no babies, no name changes without the initial question. A question Ian asked me just like he does everything, no fuss, no details, just open, honest and to the point.

That day changed me. Saying yes has made me better. I choose now to be less selfish (well at least try to). I choose to participate in Ian’s victories, even if they have nothing to do with me because a win for him is a win for our family, our team.  I now am a part of something far greater than myself. I’m stronger now because I've been added to.

Ian is my safe place. I need him. I don’t want to go back to the days before him and I’m anxious with excitement and a little nervousness for the days ahead. There’s a world out there that we need to put our mark on. It doesn't matter if we are frustrating, passionate and stubborn. We are each other’s. He chose me and I chose him. He chooses me and I choose him. It’s a daily thing, our love. And it’s thanks to May 17, 2012 that we are where we are.

He was brave enough to ask and I was smart enough to say yes. I plan on saying yes to that man until my dying breath. Yes to camping trips, yes to passport stamps that have a selfish motive of hunting or fishing. Yes to pizza and beer dates. Yes to babies. Yes to loving him when he’s not lovable and simply because he chose me. Yes, yes, yes to all that our life will hold because I get to do it with the most intelligent, manly, handsome, brave man I know.

Attitude Adjustment

Things have been a little gloomy lately. Cloudy with a chance of excessive tears is the current weather in our house.  I’m feeling slightly hurricane-ish. One second I’m swirling around like crazy, my life being thrown about, unable to stand against the winds of change. The next I’m calm, tucked into the crook of husband’s arm, indulging in Cookies ‘n Cream ice cream, watching and wishing I had a voice like Sarah Simmons on The Voice. Either side of the hurricane though can make me teary, one because I’m scared and one because I love Husband so damn much and am ever so thankful for him.

My incredible friend Janelle (check out her hilarious and brave way of attacking life and then sharing it with the world by clicking on the link. Do it. Right now.) encouraged me to write out my ABC’s of Gratitude . She always knows how to encourage and uplift me or show me how to do it myself. 

Some are so good I justified them. Others stand alone. 

Katie’s ABC’s of Gratefulness

AKA: Much Needed Attitude Check

A: Avacado Toast from Java.

B: Bibles. Mine and the one I have from my Grandmother.  Necessity.

C: Cooking Light, my fave recipe go to when meal planning  

D: Dear Friends (these people just aren’t friends, they’re DEAR friends. I need them.)

E: Emma (My sister is one of my greatest gifts)

F: Fisherman (particularly mine who is ruggedly handsome and brings home

 delicious dinners)

G: Girls Nights

H: Husband. Life is lackluster at best without him.

I: Ice Cream

J: Jamaica- Honeymoon spot with my great love. Irreplaceable.

K: Kin – I come from an incredible heritage of brave people who blazed a great trail for me.

L: Lip Balm –it’s a toss-up between Burt’s Bee’s and GAP

M: Mascara

N: Notes, cards and written words.

O: Online Shopping. (Husband is not so thankful for this.)

P: Passport. This heart is meant to see the world.

Q: Quiet nights spent with wine and a good book

R: Rainstorms

S: Sweaters and boots.

T: Tacos with lots of cheese, tomatoes and margaritas. I need Mexican food regularly.

U: United Kingdom- that place changed me.

V: Vacations. As previously mentioned, I am meant to see this world.

W:  Water & Wine- I know it’s silly but water is a huge necessity during my day, wine is almost as necessary (although not usually a daily thing) .

X: “X”- I really do just like this letter. It’s frustrating and fun all at the same time.

Y: “Yes” – The positive option, the affirming response. I’m not always good at it, but it’s nice knowing it’s there.

Z: Zara – Shoes and tops like none other, Europe can be here within a few clicks and a VISA charge.

----------------------------------------------------

I’m feeling better already. Yes and Amen.

Patience is a Virtue

I can so easily hear the voice of my mom and my grandma firmly saying to me,

"Patience is a virtue

Virtue is grace

All put together make a very pretty face."

To this day, my instinct is to roll my eyes and defiantly declare that I will then never have a pretty face. Oh, how I struggle with patience. Struggle may even be putting it mildly. More like I am at war with patience...

 all the time. 

It seems that every day, my patience is tested. It's funny to me that at the end of my last post, I mentioned that I was as a kite, rising. Well, that's how I felt at the time of writing. In real life though, I feel like a kite that is plummeting, loop de looping, taped together and barely hanging on by the string. April was windy and patience was low. I had aspirations that May would be less windy and patience would, in turn, be higher. My proverbial kite would just dance through the breeze, awing everyone by the grace in which it danced through the breeze. 

This season of life is intense. Maybe all seasons really are but you just notice it differently. We recently bought our first house (yard makeover pictures coming in June when the budget allows for hanging plants and what not). House buying really tests ones patience and ones marriage. Husband saw sides of me that should, and did, petrify him at the thought of being homeowners together. Work is always crazy. It seems like more I try to accomplish the more behind I get. And yes, I still lack patience. 

Today, I'm waiting to hear back about some blood work I had done to see if my thyroid is behaving as God intended it to. And I jump every time the phone rings. I spend too much time googling how a hypo-thyroid is going to change my life. A brief phone call to my ever incredible and level headed sister gave me a quick smack back to the land of the patient. She gently reminded me that the more I worry and am impatient about my life, the more I let it go by without living it. I only get this life, one time. Just once. What's the point in being so impatient that I lack grace, a pretty face and just the general goodness that comes from living purposed (and patient)?! 

It's funny how the thing that you struggle with most can cause the huge amounts of growth. Anytime I'm patient I feel like giving myself a medal (don't worry, there is nowhere near enough of those moments to have a trophy shelf, let alone wall or room).  But it's not a medal I've earned. It's one more minute, one more hour, one more time of swallowing a snarky response, one more positive way to show myself patience can be sought after and I'm a little stronger than I was last time. The smallest battle is sometimes the key to the greatest victory. 

So this is me, impatient. Trying to get a grasp on one thing at a time. Seeking ways to encourage patience in myself. Maybe I should drink more wine. Maybe I should count to 48,920 by one's as opposed to counting to ten. Or maybe I should stop blogging about being impatient and go and practice being patient outside of the internet. 

Wish me luck. And if you find me with wine, you'll know I'm failing. 

Simply Katie

I can't even look at this picture without smiling just a tad and letting a small sigh escape my lips. I'm quite confident I really would do just about anything for my feet to walk on English soil again. To sit in Chambers coffee shop, drinking hot chocolate that is so good it is sinful. Or maybe I would go sit in the little band shell of sorts above the English Channel with the blanket my Beppe made me and watch the clouds roll across the water from France, listen to the rain pour and soak it all in. Perhaps I would embark on a spontaneous dinner in an English pub with men who had been there all day and I would probably challenge them to a game of Uno (and one of them may be so intoxicated he may fall of his chair mid game.). I would certainly be forcing my enchilada dinners and love of Keith Urban upon my ever so patient friend Helen,insisting she dance on the couch and love all Mexican food.  I could continue to list memories and what if's but what I really want is to find out how to make England Katie and American Katie be friends rather than always longing for something different, something more.

When in England, I was just different. I don't necessarily know how or why other than both times that I lived there, I knew to the core of my being that I was where I was supposed to be. From the second I boarded the plane to London, I changed. I was calm and confident. 

England Take One was about Bible School. It was about the most incredible friendships I'd ever made (Cherry Brown- how can you not love a 5 foot nothing beauty with an powerhouse singing voice and looks all sweet but really is a fierce one...and then there's Luis. He's Cuban, from California and spoke with a fake British accent the first time I met him. He has an incredible laugh, is now a celebrity hair stylist and also rode his bike everywhere in England. I love him.) That Katie was bold. Courageous. So unaware of how American I was. I remember knowing God so deeply that year. I loved where my life was going and I loved that I chose to follow my heart rather than go the traditional route of pursuing a degree at a 4 year school. I feel like there's so much more to this but essentially I was just happy. 

That year of school ended and as I got on the plane coming back to America, I just felt tired. It was as if I hadn't stopped living from 10 months and somewhere between London and San Francisco I suddenly was so overwhelmed I just slept. I remember customs at the airport, how a pleasant 60 something year old man calmly looked at my passport, asked no questions and simply said, "Welcome Back". I remember looking up behind the desk, seeing the American flag and feeling this mixture of pride with a dash of trepidition for what England Katie was going to do in America again. I had changed. I was in the place I had spent my entire life and yet I felt so awkward. I said words like "petrol" and "trash bin". And for the next 5 or so years, I embarked on this journey back in Idaho, unable to shake the feeling that I wasn't me. I dated the wrong guy, worked a lot of the wrong jobs, and was, for lack of a better word, lost. 

And so I went back. I went back to find if England Katie still existed. This time, when I got there, I was so cold. I literally told this sweet girl "Im not here to make friends." Who says that? (For the record, she's a dear friend now. Thankfully, she didn't take me seriously and pursued this mess of an American anyway.) It didn't take much time for my to find England Katie again. All I needed was to remember the girl who at 18 followed her heart, her God and moved across the world. It took months of walking away the pounds of emotions I had gained, laughing and making efforts for friendships with people who embraced all that I am/was/want to be. I salsa danced at The View. I did cartwheels on the beach. I soaked in wisdom of women who valued me and gave me tea while I cried.  

And then I realized that England Katie and American Katie really aren't that different. We are the same girl. Feisty, kind, bold. The only thing that changed is how I was choosing to see myself. American Katie was the one brave enough to go, but English Katie was the one brave enough to change. So really, all I had to do was stay brave no matter the soil I walked. 

As Winston Churchill once said, "Kites rise highest against the wind. Not with it." I became like a kite. And I'm still rising. 

The Road from There to Here.

I thought being a grown up would be simple. I would be one of those go getting women who graduated from college like it was the easiest 4 years of her life. The type who guffawed at studying for the Graduate School Entry Exam because I would ace it just because I could without any studying involved. I would then graduate, wear fabulous high heels and pencil skirts everyday, have a loft in a great city and be married to a Ryan Reynolds look alike who loved culture, traveling and J Crew. I was sure that any life other than this would be pathetic, at best. 

None of that happened. None. Zip. Zero. Zilch. 

And I'm basically pretty happy about it. (The only thing I would change is having at least one degree. And the loft. But I would be content with the loft being a get away and not the primary residence.)

My pursuit of this life was quite simply a disaster. The years of 20-23 are basically years of me with a treasure map, hunting down this elusive treasure that literally didn't exist outside of my mind. I so badly wanted to make something of my life that I missed out on my life by doing lots of disastrous and unhealthy things. (i.e. dating a guy who was {SO} wrong for me. So wrong. On every level. And I was convinced I could make him into the best thing that happened to me. Such a bad idea. Also, because of stress of unhealthy relationship I became one of those people who ate their feelings and ballooned up to the biggest I had ever been. Then enter huge insecurity over weight, lack of college degree, knowledge relationship was wrong but trying to prove it was fine and just the other basic girl life disasters of the early twenties.) I was a mess. So, I did the only logical thing I could think of...

I ran away to Folkestone, Kent, UK. The first place I lived outside of my parents house and the only place that, at that specific point in my life, I knew who I was. It had been 6 years since I had previously lived there but I knew that was where I needed to be to break free from all that I was entangled with in Idaho and start brand new. 

England to me was like an open heart surgery that I was awake for. It was awful and awesome and it saved me. Maybe it was living with the most incredible wife, mother, Jesus lover, counselor and all around rockstar ever, Sarah Laferme and her superbly wonderful family. Or maybe it was walking everywhere and literally shedding weight as well as baggage with each step of those hilly streets. I know for sure it was thanks to friendships with women who saw past the Great Wall of Insecurity and Shame and forced me into friendships that I so desperately needed. I prayed more than I had in years and felt more free with every uttered syllable. I just let all of what I left in Idaho go and lived with what I had in England. I ventured to France, met a Spanish soccer team, volunteered for an incredible church, soaked in all I could from the incredible Sarah and just let every other thing go. I soaked up the sea salted air. I just lived with abandon for the first time in years. Life was an adventure. 

(What more does a girl need than London and the iconic phone booth? Adventure. Right there.) 

Within months, I started to feel the shift again and I knew it was time to go back to America. So I waited, rebelled a little and prepared my heart. I knew that coming back and facing what I ran away from wasn't going to be easy but I knew now how to stand alone. 

And so I cried. I cried while telling Sarah I knew it was time to go and that I didn't want to. I cried walking home from my darling friend Helen's house. I cried when I called my mom. I cried all. the. time. (and that hasn't really changed much since). I was so frustrated. Everything within me wanted to stay and be England Katie. 

With tears streaming down my cheeks, I booked the flight for the following Wednesday. I bit my lip all the way to the airport and held the tears back all the way until I handed my ticket over to board the flight. And then the tears just fell. But with each tear, my heart pounded a little stronger. By the time I landed in Cincinnati, I resembled a blow fish. By the time I squeezed my friend Erin's neck at the Boise airport, I just looked swollen and sleep deprived. But she said I looked calm. And she was right. For the first time in years, I was at peace. 

What I didn't know was that the place I was fighting against, was exactly where I was meant to be. It's where I found my husband. It's where I found the pace I needed to begin to make desires into ideas into reality. Going from here to there and back again was just what I needed. And just like I knew it when my feet touched the hot tarmac in Boise in August of 2009, I know today that the best is yet to come.