Jesus

I was, but I am not

Posted on by Kathryn Davis

“Kat, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” I replied as tears welled up in my eyes.

“That’s not true. I need to go to my office, walk with me.”

I’m trying to hold them back, but I’m not successful.

We get to Jesse’s office:

“Hey, what’s going on?”

“I just need to cry it out.”

“Okay baby,” He says as he pulls me in tight. He knows that physical touch is my number one.

I sobbed. I cried so hard I couldn’t control it anymore. That’s when I looked up at him and said:

“I can’t keep pretending I’m okay.”

“I know you’re not, baby, but you will be. I know you can’t see the light at the end of the tunnel right now, but it’s there, I promise. YOU will be okay. WE will be okay.”

and now, I am okay.

You see, I let things build. They pile up until I can’t take it anymore, and then that happens.

I just lose it.

I wish I could tell you what was going on, and why I was so broken in that moment, but it is still an ongoing situation, so I can’t post quite yet what is truly going on, but just know that you can ask me in person and I will definitely tell you, it just can’t be out there fully right now.

But let me tell you, things are looking up after today.

You see, I was giving the benefit of the doubt in this ongoing situation for quite some time, but in that, I was so afraid of conflict and confrontation that I wasn’t able to stand up for myself…until today.

Today I stood up for myself in this situation that has broken me.

And the people involved in me standing up for myself? They were all on my side. They spoke with grace and truth, and most of all, love.

Before today I was a coward- so afraid of confrontation that I couldn’t even bring myself to get up the nerve to talk to the right people about what’s been going on.

But today I did just that.

I was, but I am not.

I was afraid, but I am not.

I was letting that fear run me, but I am not.

I was lacking clarity, but I am not.

You see, it’s in moments like today where I realize that no matter what I think or feel, fear will always lose. The darkness will always be overcome, even if it takes a whole lot of patience and a whole lot of courage for that to happen.

I was, but I am not.

It’s okay to be, but it’s even better to defeat.

Today light won.

Light always wins.

All to Him I owe.

Training Wheels

Posted on by Kathryn Davis

You know that saying that goes “it’s just like riding a bike!” 

That’s how I’ve found bliss to be, and life in general, honestly. 

You get to the point where it is so natural and second nature that you can pick it right up again. Or if you fall it’s really easy to get right back up.

I like to think of bliss being like a bicycle. I like to know that I can fall off a few times and feel like I’ve forgotten how to find it, but then pick myself back up, get on, and naturally have bliss again. It makes it easier to think of it on the days where I feel like all is lost when it comes to finding bliss. 

Bliss is never lost. Sometimes you just have to try a little harder to see it! Just like when you haven’t ridden a bike in a couple of years and get back on one to ride around your college campus-you have to try a little harder to know how to ride the bike somewhere you’re not used to. 

I’ve mentioned the transition to adulthood being more difficult than I thought. To start, I didn’t give myself a break post college (I didn’t even give myself a summer break because I took classes instead) which I don’t regret any of that, but I understand now why breaks are good. And then I took a job that sounded great for stability’s steak. The job wasn’t what I thought, so I left for another job, and that’s where I stand now. There’s still a lot I’m trying to figure out, but that’s life! 

Here’s the thing though- I thought I had it all figured out. I was riding a mountain bike up big mountains. I was conquering fears and life was easy because I know who I am and what I want to do in life! 

I’m an optimist and a planner, so trust me when I say, it felt good when I thought I had it all figured out. 

But life isn’t centered around my plans. It’s centered around God’s plans for me. And I have a tendency to want to plan and to know what’s up ahead, which usually ends up in me making a choice that gives me a mountain to climb or a struggle to really find bliss. Every single time I just let go and let God control the situation, it turns out even better than I could dream of. 

And the more I realize that, the more I realize that while I thought I was riding a mountain bike, the whole time I was riding a bike with training wheels. 

The transition to adulthood is when the training wheels came off. 

And that’s why I’ve felt like I’m going to fall over. That’s why I’ve been afraid to move in one direction. Because I’m afraid to fall since those training wheels came off. 

But here’s what happens when your training wheels come off: 

You get really wobbly.

You finally balance yourself.

You get the strength to move forward.

You wobble.

You fall off.

You get right back on and keep going until you’ve gotten your balance right.

Think back to when you rode a bike with the training wheels off. Really think about it. Did you fall? I did.

But something I always tend to forget about that whole training wheel experience is that I wasn’t alone. My parents were standing there the whole time. They made sure I felt comfortable and then they let me go because they knew that WHEN I fell (not IF I fell) I would be okay. 

Just like God is there for us in life and in finding bliss. He makes sure we are comfortable but He lets us go and lets us experience the instability and fear-because that’s what grows us. That’s what shapes us, and at some point you have to take off those training wheels. 

In the Wreckage

Posted on by Kathryn Davis

wreckage

 

It happened so quickly my mind couldn’t even process it.

In fact, 365 days later my mind is still processing it.

It comes and goes in bits and pieces, trying to form the whole accident over and over again.

It is spurred by triggers- like the sound of water under my car, the slush of water hitting up off of the back of big trucks, 18 wheelers being close, hard rain, or if I hear the word “Car accident” too much. 

But I’m learning how to handle the flashbacks. I’ve learned that if I don’t let myself see the events again I go into panic. My body goes into fight mode.

But if I let my mind replay it again (put on your seatbelt) :

I look into the rearview mirror to see what’s behind me since I can barely see two feet in front of me. I see the 18 wheeler. It’s on my tail. I don’t feel safe. My heart begins to race. We’re going down a hill. It’s too close. I don’t like it. I move into the right lane. Somewhere in the middle I looked over at Jesse. I know I did because he brings me comfort. We get into the right lane. We hit something slick. I can’t control the car. Jesse’s hand reaches over and grabs the wheel. I look to my left, see something really white. Hear a huge crashing/ cracking sound. “I love you, God.” All the while Jesse is telling me what to do:
“Slowly apply the break, Kat. Okay, good. You’re doing a good job. Okay, baby, ease off of the road, but don’t slam the break, okay? Okay, you’ve got it, Kat. You’re doing great. Okay, now take your foot off of the break.”
I don’t remember my body making the movements, but I remember hearing it and doing what I was told. I wasn’t there. I really wasn’t. My body was moving but I couldn’t feel it. I felt like everything around me was frozen until we stopped the car.
My head is down. I don’t know why it was down. I don’t know how it got there. I don’t even remember the glass breaking or my eyes closing, but I know it all happened.
I slowly lift up my head and look over to my right. Jesse is there. He’s all in one piece. I can see him, so I must be okay. But am I okay? 
I asked him if I was dying because that’s what I automatically assumed since we hit an 18 wheeler. 
He tells me I’m okay. I see blood. Lots of it. I ask him if my head is bleeding and point to the side of it.
“No, baby, your head is okay. Your nose is bleeding, but it’s okay. You’re okay. I promise you’re going to be okay.”
How did he keep so calm? 
I look over and see my hand sliced open. Lots of blood. I don’t do blood.
I start freaking out. My hand is bleeding. I CAN SEE MY BONE (it wasn’t my bone. It was my tendon hanging out). 
That’s when the pain hit. I didn’t even feel pain until I saw it.
He gets me out of the car on his side. People come over. Ask if we’re okay. Say nice things.
I’m dizzy. Really dizzy. 
Jesse is taking off of his shirt and then wraps his undershirt around my hand. I keep saying how badly it hurts. 
They tell me to lie down. It’s muddy. I’m cold. It’s wet. My hand hurts. I’m scared. Am I dying? 
The ambulance gets there. Jesse holds my good hand. Walks me to it.

I see it all clear as day. 

My face healed in a week. My hand took longer. I had three pieces of glass inside of my hand that I had surgery to remove, but that all healed up really well! I’m missing a tenon. Apparently it was “obliterated,” but “it’s okay because God made two there!”

My scar looks good and cool and I have a huge story I get to tell.

But the wreckage. That’s where I stand. 

My hand might be healed, but my mind still has open wounds. 

It takes time, I know. It’s been 365 days. But I know that God will pull me through it.

Don’t get me wrong, there has been a LOT of progress. Just the other day I willingly chose to drive on the interstate. That’s literally the first time I have driven on the interstate by choice.

I still have a long way to go, but it’s about patience and about baby steps.

But let me tell you, the wreckage isn’t easy. It isn’t fun, but it is growing.

I might mentally struggle, but spiritually I am maturing.

It takes a lot of relying on Jesus. A LOT of patience and a LOT of hope. 

Because God ALWAYS wins, and He will win with this battle, too. 

I’m going to be honest. In my life I’ve been through a lot of things that have given me good stories, but in those things, I’ve always just kind of struggled through them and shrugged them off.

This car wreck is the first time in my life I have ever been left asking God “Why?”

Not the wreck itself. It happened. I didn’t ask God why it happened because I knew that He was going to use it for His good! No issues there.

But the anxiety. That’s what I’ve asked God about a lot. WHY do I HAVE to struggle with this? It’s too tough. I will NEVER get back on that interstate, especially in rain. WHY won’t you just answer my prayers and take it away?

I think when I was younger I never asked God why because I wanted the answer that I wanted. I knew that I might not get what I want, so I just avoided asking the question.

But this time, this time I let myself ask it, and I’m glad I did.

Because God has answered my question by not giving me a clear answer. He has answered it by allowing me to grow and mature and trust in Him and Him alone. 

The only way I can find true comfort in a panic attack is listening to worship music. That’s literally the only thing that will pull me out of it.

Asking God “why?” made me get that it’s not about why. I don’t need a clear cut answer. It doesn’t matter why the anxiety is happening. 

What matters is how I’m getting through it and what I’m doing with it.

That’s what matters.

Because there is BEAUTY in WRECKAGE. Don’t you see that?

Because wreckage makes you vulnerable.
And vulnerability makes you approachable.
And being approachable brings people out of their shells.
And when people are out of their shells with walls down, that's when God uses you to move.

It’s not about why.

It’s about what you’re doing with it. 

So let me tell you what I’m doing with my anxiety-

I’m talking about it, now. I’m boasting in my weaknesses. I’m being honest with those around me, but more importantly, with myself.

It’s been 365 days and I have driven on the interstate by myself ONCE.

I have panic attacks.

I have flashbacks.

And recently, my doctor prescribed me anxiety medicine.

You see? My life is not perfection like I sometimes try to portray.

I haven’t taken it yet, and I haven’t decided if I will or not, but I have it.

Because sometimes healing is about taking a step back from ourselves and realizing we CAN NOT do it on our own.

And maybe I’ve been trying too hard to be brave.

Because I’m not brave.

God is brave.

and He makes me brave.

So that’s where I stand 365 days after the most traumatic and terrifying event of my life.

I stand in the wreckage.

Willing to admit to anyone willing to read this that I can’t do it on my own and I haven’t been doing it on my own.

Just ask Jesse. Ask my family. Ask my friends. Ask my pastor.

They all know. They’ve all seen it.

The shortness of breath- the glazed over eyes. The panic attacks. The brokenness.

But God has a purpose for it. I might be facing open wounds, 
but I have the ultimate healer on my side. 

And in that, there is bliss.

There will always be bliss.

Even in the wreckage.

You just have to CHOOSE to see it. 

#marriedlife

Posted on by Kathryn Davis

Today was a glimpse into post-married life, and let me tell you, it’s going to be incredible!

I already knew that it would be, but days like today validate it.

There’s a lot of bliss in the little moments. The big ones, too, but it’s the little things that are so often overlooked.

Today I was off work and Jesse had the ability to work from home, so we spent the morning running errands and the afternoon was spent with me painting and him working in the same room. This evening we had our Financial Peace University Class. It was a really, really nice day!

Today was a good break from reality.

We spend so much of our time running from place to place to place, and today there was a little bit of that, but there was a lot of down time that we just got to soak in each other’s presence.

Quality time is high up there when it comes to my love language, so days like today really bring me bliss.

I actually spent a lot of today struggling through my anxiety because there was a good bit of driving in the rain, but even that was overshadowed by the little things.

Because little things add up to be bigger than even the best sometimes.

The anxiety was also overpowered by Jesse. He’s such a comfort when it comes to that. He knows how to deal with it and how to pull me through it.

So, Jess, thank you. Thank you for sticking by my side through it all. Through the worst of it and the best of it. Thank you for holding my hand and reminding me time and time again to breathe. Sometimes breathing is the hardest part, and you make sure I don’t forget how. Thank you for being patient and kind. For simply putting your hand on my knee when you know I just need to feel you there. Thank you for loving me deeply and unconditionally, because I know sometimes I don’t make it easy. Thank you for giving me the quality time that I need and for loving me so selflessly. You give up a lot for me, and I don’t tell you enough how much it means to me. Thank you for making reality easy, even when it’s tough and for reminding me where my worth comes from time and time again. 

Thank you for laughing with me, for crying with me.

Thank you for affirming me and always being there.

Thank you, most importantly, for living out the image of Christ daily and for encouraging me to do the same.

Thank you for being the better half of this soon to be marriage.

All-in-all, I’m thankful for days like today. Days where bliss comes so easily, so freely.

Freely we receive, so freely we must give.

Today I found bliss in getting to witness what #marriedlife will be like.

But until June 25, I’m gonna keep finding bliss in engaged life, because that life is fun, too.

Jess, I love you and can’t wait to be your wife. Thanks for making every day fun and worth it. You are truly the best!

May you find bliss in the little things today.

 

5 miles   

Posted on by Kathryn Davis

It only took 5 miles.

In five miles I found iridescent bliss. 

That shining happiness.

Radiant joy. 

It only took 5 miles because I decided to take that 5 miles on my own.

 No one pressured me. 

I looked to my right to Jesse and told him “I’m going to need you to help me in a couple of minutes.” So that’s what he did, he helped me. He encouraged me. 

Today I stepped far out of my comfort zone.

Today I found bliss in something I had lost all hope in. 

Today, nearly 365 days since that life changing February day where we hydroplaned into an 18 wheeler,

 I WILLINGLY drove on the interstate. 

I can’t begin to describe to you the joy I felt making it without having a panic attack. 

I didn’t even cry this time. 

Today Jesus gave me courage and courage brought me bliss. 

Some days it only takes 5 miles. 

Soak in those days. Cherish that joy. 

Today fear lost. 

Good

Posted on by Kathryn Davis

Have you ever had a conversation with someone that impacted you in literally two seconds, but you never even learned their name?

That happened to me today.

Someone asked me if I have Valentine’s plans, and that turned into the discussion about how Jesse better not give me chocolate because I gave up candy for Lent, and that discussion turned into a conversation about Lent, which turned into me telling him about my blog.

And then he said something that left me thinking all day.

He told me it sounded like an inspirational blog, and then began to talk about being a good person. 

He said that it’s important to be a good person, and I agree.

But what he said next is what really left me knowing that our brief conversation would become my blog today.

“You know, I think it’s important to be a good person, but sometimes it is just really hard. You try to be good, but these days it’s difficult to be good. But still, I try to be a good person.”

I don’t know his name, and he has the link to this blog, so he honestly might be reading this, but let me tell you, he is wise.

He’s so right. 

We are called to be good people. We are called to love and to live a life that exemplifies Christ, but how often do we ACTUALLY look like Jesus?

Do we actively try, or do we put more emphasis on looking perfect in the world’s standards?

Honestly, the latter.

As much as I want to say the first, we all know, it’s the last.

But let me let you in on a little secret: 

Bliss comes from God, not from fitting in.

Because we aren’t called to fit in. 

To be comfortable.

We are called to be  G O O D!

Good People.
Good Stewards.
Good Doers. 
Good Thinkers.
Good Leaders.
Good BELIEVERS. 

 

 

What if instead of filtering our Instagrams to have the “perfect style and perfect lives” , we filtered our lives to look a lot more like Jesus? 

Maybe then GOOD would be NORMAL.

But for now, I’ll just be out of the norm. Will you?

Chasing Bliss

Posted on by Kathryn Davis

“I’ve been better, I’ve been worse…I’ve walked into harder times, I’ve walked out the other side.”

I didn’t used have to chase bliss. It was something that came naturally, but now it’s just become a game- it’s this game where you almost reach it, in fact, you’re so close that your hand is ALMOST touching it, but it’s just a little bit faster than you and you miss. Next thing you know, you’ve grabbed it, but suddenly, it slips away.

Bliss decides to be harder to find sometimes.

Or maybe it’s a perspective thing. 

Transitions are tough for me. Well, not all transitions.

Transitions like the one I’ll take when Jess and I get married are super easy, but transitions that involve me not knowing what exactly I’m supposed to be doing don’t work out too well with me.

I tend to get overwhelmed and put a lot of pressure on myself.

It feels like there are pressures from everywhere, but really, let’s be honest, I’m the one putting it on myself. No one else is pressuring me, I’m just allowing the pressures to rule me.

I think part of the reason I stopped writing was because this transition has been so tough that I didn’t want to have to face it head on. Writing this blog makes me work through everything because it forces me to find the bliss and figuring out what is hindering it. I didn’t want to face the facts that life throws things at you that can really fog up the bliss around you.

& what I’ve learned is, you can’t let the fog win. You have to find the light each day. You have to do something you love every single day, because if you don’t, then it is REALLY easy to lose bliss.

and then you’re left chasing it. 

“Learned to dance with the fear that I’d been running from.”

So, you decided to begin again with me. Now, will you join me on this journey of chasing bliss?

In all honesty, it’s not about the chase. It’s about the journey to get to the end result-a life of bliss.

Life might throw curveballs at us. It might be hard in a transition, but in the end of it all, every season is temporary, and if this time of transition has taught me anything, it has definitely taught me that life is all about perspective.

What perspective are you going to chase?

Are you going to let fear win, 
or are you going to chase bliss and choose joy?

I know what I’m going to pick, and here’s a picture to prove it-

Here’s what bliss looks like to me:

bliss

Chains 

Posted on by Kathryn Davis

  

I feel like I’m in chains, bound to them with the key right in front of me, just slightly out of reach. 

My breathing gets heavy, then short, and then I feel faint. I put my hands over my head as I huff and puff for air. I get dizzy and the world seems to be spinning. My chest tightens and all I can do is feel paralyzed. 

It’s a panic attack onset by triggers from the anxiety of the wreck. 

I can’t control it. I can’t stop it. But I beat it…every single time. 

We were just driving from Tuscaloosa to Birmingham and it rained the entire time. I take 2 huge steps forward and then this happens and I feel like I take 10 steps back. It’s disheartening, but it’s also growing me. He even took highways for part of the ride. When we were on the interstate, though, the rain got harder and the water splashing from behind the cars got heavier. It sent me into a panic. Literally. 

This 18 wheeler was following too closely for my comfort. That’s what happened today. That’s what triggered the fear. That’s what happened in the wreck. But in the wreck, I got over to the right and that’s when it all happened. Today, they got over to the left and passed us, sending me into a whirlwind of fear and anxiety. But this time we didn’t wreck. This time nothing happened at all. 

I wish I could snap my fingers and all of the anxiety and fear would go away. But that would be too easy. It’s okay, though. I think that this is a good battle for me to fight. I don’t care how hard it is or how long it takes or even how disheartened I may be at times. There is good in every single situation. 

I will overcome because Jesus overcomes. 

I will find peace because God will give me peace. 

I will find rest for this burden because Jesus takes my burdens upon His shoulders and gives me rest. 

And I will never let this steal my joy. Because the joy of the Lord is my strength. He fights for me and holds me up. 

I have a story. Not only a story of the accident, but a story of the scars after it. This story is one that will show how real and broken I can be, because I am human. This story will show how in the brokenness of the chains, God overcomes for me. You see, this is the story of God’s goodness and grace. The story of His peace, strength, and joy. And I would not be a true disciple if I didn’t use it for His good. 

So bring on the rain and push me until I’m through it. 

One day I’ll look at the road and the rain and say “I’m okay.” 

But until then, I’ll hold on to Christ and say “give me peace, Jesus.” 

And He will answer it in His timing and in His ways and that’s okay with me. Because this makes for a story and stories make for ways to spread the love of Christ, and spreading the love of Christ makes evangelism and evangelism makes new disciples of Jesus. 

So through this anxiety, through this fear, and through this story there will be Jesus.

Dear Mom and Dad

Posted on by Kathryn Davis

momanddad
Dear mom and dad,
Thank you for my new car. The one that you've been driving 
more than me.
Thank you for your patience in my times of anxiety.
Thank you for taking the interstate a little more slow,
and keeping your distance around the cars that don't seem to care about control.
I felt so bad the day I wrecked the car I loved so much.
It's not like I meant to slip on the patch of water on that 
road,
But I've learned now that you have to go a little slower whenthe rain is pouring down,
even if 10 under seems right,
my judgement might be wrong.
I could not make it through this fight without your constant love,
I know that you are blessed gifts to me from God above.
Thank you for your servant hearts as you took me from 
place to place,
and listened to phone call after phone call of me seeming 
afraid.
I know there was an extra car you could have graciously 
loaned me,
But instead your took my comfort into account, and bought me an SUV.
Thank you for not pushing me to drive too fast or too far, 
while I am still afraid.
For telling me that I will be okay and making sure I feel 
comfort each and every way.
Thank you for your love throughout my life, 
especially on that day.
Thank you dearly for entrusting J to be the other half to my K;
For letting him care for and comfort me when you are 45 
minutes away.
It hasn't been an easy battle, but I know I'll make it 
through.
I know this because mom and dad,
I will always have you.

Love you more

Posted on by Kathryn Davis

  

“it’s okay. Breathe. It’s okay. Just breathe.” He whispers it in my ear. 

He knows when it’s happening. When my breathing gets heavy and I become almost frozen. When my eyes glaze over and I sigh. When it gets dark around me and my mind flashes. 

“Breathe.”

I love him, more with each passing moment. But our love is so much more now because of what we went through. What we’re still going through. I have the scar to prove it. 

“It’s going to be okay.”

He’s become a comforter-not that he wasn’t before now-but an even greater one. 

He’s a vessel through which Christ works wonders. 

He is the vessel for God’s comfort– telling me it’s okay. He reminds me to breathe. He holds me. He lets me cry. He allows me to progress in baby steps. He has patience. He prays for me. He doesn’t have to tell me he prays for me, I feel it in my heart. He reminds me that God saved me that day. He is comfort. 

He is the vessel for God’s strength– when I feel weak- when my eyes glaze over and I fall into the replays and the darkness- He becomes strong for me. He looks me in the eyes and tells me I’m doing a great job. He holds my hand as I tremble in fear. He kisses my head when my eyes well up. He is strong. 

He is the vessel for God’s rejoicing– when I take a new step, he rejoices for me. When I drove, he smiled. When I went only a mile on the interstate and got scared, but made it, he rejoiced. Because I’m pushing through, keeping faith. So God rejoices through him. 

He is the vessel for God’s peace- my anxieties rise- it’s raining- he says “look down at what you’re typing.” He distracts me, he reminds me that God’s love carries me. That God overcame the world and He will overcome these anxieties. He tells me that I lived through my biggest fear and God will continue to protect me. God brings me peace through his words and through his actions. 

He is the vessel for God’s healing- when the accident happened, he immediately took off his shirts in the rain and wrapped one over my wound, putting pressure upon the place where it was bleeding. He cleaned my wound as needed. He washed it and put alcohol on it despite my angry faces. Despite the tears, he helped it heal. God did that through him. 

He is the vessel for God’s servant heart- oh how he served me. He would wrap the trash bag around my arm for me to shower. He would tie my shoes, open jars, apply my deodorant, help with my contacts. He became my second hand. He slept on the couch that night to make sure I would be okay. He drove me, he still does. Everywhere. 

He was the vessel for God’s love- he loves me. He loves me in sickness and health. He loves me to the moon and back. He loves me with his whole heart. He loves me beyond measure and without limitation. He loves me unconditionally and gives me his heart day in and day out. 

But I love you more,Jess. 

Thank you for being God’s vessel. For holding me and pulling me through this battle. For becoming my husband before we are even engaged. For loving me the way I love you. Thank you for comforting me and reminding me daily that God is good and He will cast out fear. You are incredible, and I love you deeply, through Christ. 

May our love get stronger every day and our blessings never be taken for granted. May God always protect us, and as the days pass on and as our relationship deepens, may the scar on my left hand be a constant reminder of the bond that we share. 

To God be the glory forever and ever.