Author: Kelly

My brother gets married tomorrow. My *BROTHER* gets married tomorrow. How can that be? Even typing those words seem strange. It’s not that I am surprised or that I am not excited (I love my new sister in law so much, this day is a long time coming) But that Josh, the truly most annoying little brother on the planet is getting married.

He isn’t that annoying anymore, well most of the time. I am almost 4 years older than Josh. Between us, we have Jacob, or as many know him- Aloha Jake. I can remember my parents bringing Josh home from the hospital. He was jaundice and wrapped in bili lights. He resembled one of my favorite toys- a glow worm! I couldn’t believe that mom and dad had gotten me a real life glow worm. The excitement and joy faded when as a baby he threw up in my face (note: don’t pat a newly fed infant on the belly…ever) He quickly grew into the loud, comedic relief of our family. From some of his first words being a joke, to challenging me to “smell the van” after he expelled deathly fumes from his body, Josh had us laughing.

In our adolescence we often argued, bickered, and simply aggravated each other incessantly. Mom stated that by my senior year of high school she was sure that one of us had to leave before we argued each other to death. Luckily for everyone, I moved to Tallahassee shortly after that. Approximately 3 weeks into college Josh and I missed each other. Distance and time away put things into perspective, there was love under all the irritation.

It is funny how things can change and develop as time continues to tick on. After college I moved home for work and Josh and I were siblings and also friends. We formed a group of friends that made those years rich with laughter, fun, and community. He quickly became one of my best friends. I will forever be grateful for those years we both lived back in Fort Myers, as it cemented not only our sibling relationship but an actual friendship that lasts today.

Josh is one of my favorite people, and so is Jacob. Together they make me laugh harder than anyone. Being in their presence brings my soul a sense of peace that I long for when it has been a long time since we have seen one another. Earlier this summer when I was praying about leaving my job and taking a sabbatical and my heart was completely broken, James bought me a plane ticket to see my brothers. He knew that seeing them would be like a cool glass of water on a hot day. He was right. Siblings are a gift. Brothers are the best. Having people that have known and loved you (even when they locked me in my room for hours as a teenager) is so special.

I sit here in a hotel lobby in Chattanooga, Tennessee with tears welled up in my eyes just thinking about how much I love them both.

Tomorrow Josh gets married. Jacob will stand on one side of him and I will stand on the other, as I officiate the service. We will welcome Jeena into this crazy, loving, and wild family. Tomorrow will be one of the greatest days of Josh and Jeena’s life, and also mine. Our family continues to grow in members and love. It is the best.

Josh, being your sister is one of the best parts of my life. Watching you become the man that you are has been a gift. I have been honored to have a front row seat to every day of your life. You are sensitive, loving, creative, driven, hard working, smart and funny. I love you more than you know.

But please, don’t fart on me tomorrow….

It’s been 8 years since my last blog post. Do people even still do this? So much has happened since then I almost don’t know where to begin.

In the 8 years since I last wrote on this platform I : graduated from seminary, served in my first role in the church outside youth ministry, accepted my first call, moved to Kentucky, got ordained, served as a pastor, bought my first home, met-dated-fell in love and married James, survived his deployment, survived pastoring through a pandemic, grew as a pastor through immense challenge, grieved the loss of dear family, got a dog, bought another home, experienced burnout, resigned as a pastor, and survived church trauma. I think that brings us back up to date.

It’s been 8 weeks since I walked into my church for the last time. Of course, that morning I did not know that it was my last time walking into my church. I had tendered my resignation almost 48 hours prior, a decision that did not come lightly. At 2:30, on Wednesday August 9, 2023 I was escorted to my car with only what I could carry by our church’s council president. He had tears in his eyes, I did not. I felt an usual sense of clarity and calm. You can call that peace the Holy Spirit, you can call it my body protecting me from the trauma of what was happening, you can call it whatever you want but I understood so clearly what was happening. I told him that this was not how churches handle pastoral transitions, it didn’t matter. I grabbed; my Bible from my grandmother, my Bible from my Aunt Jonna, my special services book, a notebook, a bottle of unopened bourbon from the bottom of my desk (assuming my office would be gone through, I was right), and all of Bean’s (my dog) things. I got in my car, called my husband and very calmly told him that I had been escorted out. He told me he would meet me at home as soon as possible. I don’t remember my drive home, I just remember being home.

My skin seemed to buzz in a way I was unfamiliar. I was stuck, frozen in one spot on my couch. I had an emergency meeting with my therapist as my phone seemed to incessantly vibrate with concerned text messages from church members and friends.

I don’t clearly remember anything else until about 3 hours later.

Trauma is such an interesting thing. None of us survives life without traumatic experience. Pain is part of living. Simply our births are traumatic, we are literally born into life through pain. Yet, we live to avoid pain, or at least I have lived my life in a way to avoid as much pain as possible. We dodge risk, sit with patience, and hide behind a clear wall of false safety and security only to find that we were never truly hidden in the first place. Pain eventually finds us all.

Geez, Kelly- way to bring positivity after 8 years away from writing.

I chose to resign from my pastoral position, but I did not choose how it ended. I did not choose a path lacking of closure. I chose to walk away, I did not choose how I was treated on my walk. But isn’t that life? Life is recognizing that we cannot control everything. Life is recognizing that ultimately all that I can control is my own actions, my own response, and who I allow into my own circle. What happens after we control what we can may still hurt us.

The pain that I have been in over the last 2 months has been intense and strange. It is grief. It is the grief of what was and what could have been. It is the grief that comes with losing something or someone that you love.

Hear this church, I have and will continue to love you. I would accept the pain once again from losing you without closure for the joy that it was to love you for 6 years. The anger that I feel is not toward the congregation but rather in the name of injustice and brokenness embodied in the Church. You dear church loved me as best as you could, and for that I will always be eternally grateful. You deserved better than the ending we got, and so did I. I will always be thankful for our time together.

So, why now? Why now return to a blog that to be honest, I forgot I even had? Why address this trauma at all? Because the last two months have felt like death, the days have had moments of deep grief, sadness and darkness. There have also been moments of intense joy- friends that have traveled long ways to be by my side, quiet weekends with my husband and long walks with my Bean. All of these moments deserve to be marked, noticed, and remembered.

I want to document this journey that I am traveling. A journey marked with growth and rest, joy and sadness, healing and pain. I hope that this casts a light on that journey.

The light shines in the darkness and the darkness with never overcome it. – John 1:5

ok, ok, ok. I haven’t written a blog in like a year and a half. I am not entirely sure why I am writing this one now.

I do not consider myself to be courageous. I am an over thinker. I tend to think of all of the possible outcomes to any given situation prior to doing it. Therefore as a kid I never liked roller coasters. You know because as a kid I thought there were three options: 1. I could die. 2. I could cry (always likely) 3. I could love it. 2/3 of the options seemed negative therefore, roller coasters were not an option. I have two brothers who rarely seemed to conduct a risk analysis like I did. This led to constant wondering of me how my two younger brothers could be so much braver than me? [ this is where mom says, “Kelly, they are not braver than you, they are just different than you]

nevertheless. They are courageous. I am not. But I have done at least one thing that was brave.

I moved to Alabama.

To most people that may seem like nothing. I came to suburban america, to live in a nice community and serve in a nice church. That step in courage though has led to some interesting things. One of which being that I have learned more about myself in the past two years than I ever would have thought. Some of the things are great, some are not so great, and some are crazy (discovering I like living alone, something I dreaded prior to moving….who knew?)

The following is something that I have learned about myself that is just real. Not bad, not good, just real.

[be aware that the following is straight vulnerability….you have been warned]

One thing that I have learned about myself is that I lie. I don’t lie to others (ok, that in itself is a lie). I try very hard not to lie to others and when I do, I try to confess.

I mainly lie to myself.

The lie that I repeatedly tell myself is: You are alone. You are unlovable.

[told you this was vulnerable]

To be honest, this is most likely the root of a lot of my baggage that I have acquired leading up to my late twenties. In my mind I am carrying around lots of cute vintage luggage, including a nice hat box….but packed away in all of this cute on the outside baggage is this ugly monster of a lie.

friends hurt you? you’re alone. unlovable. Maybe if you were lovable they wouldn’t hurt you.

no boyfriend? you’re alone. unlovable.

family hurt you? you’re alone. unlovable. Maybe if you were lovable they wouldn’t hurt you.

people disappoint you? you’re alone. unlovable.

etc….

I could go on, but I think you get the idea.

You know that saying, “If it walks like a duck, quacks like a duck, then guess what? It’s a duck”?

It is not always like that with lies. Because the lie that I tell myself’ appears, smells, tastes, sounds, feels, like truth. Nevertheless… IT IS A LIE.

I know that it is a lie for several reasons. First being that I have a precious community that loves me from near and far. I trust them. They tell me all sorts of important things like when I have food in my teeth or when I am full of crap and am lying to myself. They tell me that I am lovable. But more importantly they show me that I am lovable by continuing to love me as best they can. Sometimes the way that they love me doesn’t look like what I expect, but that doesn’t diminish it’s value.

My friend Emily came over today. She came over with an abundance of junk food. She came over and watched my favorite musical on DVD because she knows that I love it. She came over because she loves me [even when I do nothing but complain to her. Cry. And then selfishly eat all of the popcorn] Today she spoke truth into my lie by sitting with me.

Becca and Toby proof read this for me because they know my heart. They show me that I am lovable my reading my disjointed thoughts when I need it and picking up my weeping, complaining, or happy phone calls. [sometimes our phone calls are all of these emotions at once.]

Audra loved me today by picking up the phone and speaking words that I maybe didn’t like hearing but needed to hear. She told me that I was lovable by speaking difficult truth wrapped in love and grace [Audra is a total pro at that….it’s kind of awesome]

I have countless friends that show me I am lovable regularly. Most of the time I don’t think they understand the gravity of their actions and how they ring true in my heart. I don’t always see their love. But they are always showing me that I am lovable.

The problem is, that when I begin to tell myself that lie that sounds like truth. I begin to push the very people who I need to speak truth into my life away. I begin to retreat into the solitude that I think I deserve. And for that, I am sorry.

I live into this self ordained prophesy. I think I am alone and unlovable. So I pull away, distancing myself from others. Thus making me alone. It’s a cycle that I recognize and struggle to break free from. It’s dangerous. I am thankful for friends, and family that love me and don’t allow me to run from them.

They chase after my heart, in the same manner that God is constantly chasing after my heart. The God whose love pursuit is seen throughout Scripture.

“Nevertheless, I am continually with you; you hold my right hand” Psalm 73:23

“Teaching them to observe all that I have commanded you. And behold, I am with you always, to the very end of the age” Matthew 28:20

and finally, a favorite:

“So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you. I will uphold you with my righteous right hand” Isaiah 41:10

Scripture is like one giant love letter constantly telling me how not alone and lovable I am we are.

Lovable enough for a death on a cross. Not alone because of a resurrection.

I don’t know if you are like me and you lie to yourself more than you lie to anyone else. I would guess that this is the case for most people. Walking around looking whole, while our brokenness sounds clearly within our heads and hearts. For me it is the lie that I am alone and unlovable. For you it may be something else. My prayer is that we would all find truth that rings louder than the self spoken lies. That you would find yourself in community (and allow yourself to stay in the midst of that and not pull away like is my temptation) and hear the value of your life from them and through Holy Scripture.

For me the risk analysis of even writing these words is that there are three options 1. no one reads this because even I forgot I kept a blog. 2. I cry (welp, that has already happened.)  or 3. You hear truth.

I guess it is worth the risk. I’ll be courageous.

Okay, so I know that I have not written recently. There has been a lot going on in my life though! Sometimes I worry though that I get so busy that I forget to have a time to reflect. At first this blog was because so many people were asking me to document my adventures in Alabama. Now though, I recognize that it is a time for me to reflect, and then share those reflections. My life is good, but busy. I know that is really the norm in our society….to be busy. But, that is another blog post, for another time….not tonight.

So in the past few weeks , I have; spent my first Easter in Alabama, traveled to Memphis, completed my first year of seminary, and traveled to Florida. My trip home was really good. I was able to spend time with my family and friends and spend some time at the beach and by the pool. It was so wonderful to relax and just be away. My family threw a party which allowed me to see many loved ones at one time, which filled my heart with happiness. But although it was so great to be home, one of the best moments was on my flight back to Alabama. As I sat in the airport I remembered just 5 months prior when I sat in the airport with tears running down my face, not wanting to return to Alabama. Life just seemed so much easier in Florida. It was home. It was my only home. Fast forward 5 months, and I am sitting in the same airport, same terminal, ready to get on the plane. It may seem simple, but what a difference the last 5 months made.

It helped make a home.

Just one week after sitting in the airport, I hit another tiny milestone here. Today is one year since I came to my church to visit. That weekend still stands as one of the most stressful, awkward, and exciting weekends of my life thus far. I remember sitting in the church with people who seemed to love me without even knowing me. I was preoccupied trying to look like I was not completely lost within the liturgy of the service. I sat at the confirmation luncheon trying to not look overwhelmed and attempting to make conversation without making to seem like my nerves were controlling me. It was a whirlwind of a day. Today is one year later. My how things have changed. Today was also a whirlwind, but I was a part of it. Today instead of not having a clue what we were celebrating, I burst with pride watching my kids proclaim their faith in public.

My kids

What a difference a year makes. It really is incredible. Some days have been utterly exhausting and emotionally draining. But still, I am living my dream. I never in a million years could have dreamed what my life would look like now. It’s crazy. This adventure is nuts. But, God is so faithful. He heard my cries and answered them. He has taken me on this adventure. It’s kind of incredible.

What a difference a year makes.

**It should also be noted that I did may have accidentally set the fire alarm off today at the church and maybe the firemen showed up….so although a year does make a big difference, not everything is different…..I should still stay away from ovens. **

Dear April 5th, 

You suck. I am sorry, I wish there was a better way for me to say it, but seriously….you suck. For the past two years you have been the worst day in both 2012 and 2013.

In 2012 you changed my family and my lives forever with my father losing his job. We no longer worked together, and I lost confidence in where I served. Work made me sick. It was’t your fault April 5th, but you were the worst day. You were the day that made me have to eat lunch in my car, and cry on my drive into work. You were the worst. 

In 2013, you changed my life forever again by being the day we lost my grandfather. It was hard to see my family hurt. It broke my heart. He was gone. We had the blessed assurance of knowing where he was, but it didm’t make the sting of death hurt any less. 

But today is another day. Instead of dwelling on the hurt that has been in the past I am going to be thankful and joyful for where I have come from. April 5, 2014 marks 9 months since my move to Alabama. It marks 9 months since I changed my life forever. These 9 months have not been easy. They have been anything but easy. But April 5th, you remind me that life isn’t always easy. April 5th, you’ll always remind me of my dad and the courageous, and loving man that he is. How he has supported me as I strive to answer what I believe the Lord has called me to do. My dad, who has stood by me and encouraged me to dream big. The man who had lunch with me everyday at Shellpoint and taught me to how to best serve the resident we loved. April 5th, you will forever make me thankful for Jimbo. For the man that challenged me, made me laugh, taught me countless stories, and loved me. He encouraged me to follow the Lord, to serve those around me especially the oppressed, and to above all else love. 

So, April 5th, you are not my favorite. You have broken my heart. But, from now on I choose to look at those tragedies as joys. I choose hope over bitterness, love over hate. I choose to be thankful for where I am today, and to acknowledge the pains of the past and to remember the sweet impacts that they had. I choose to remember the impact that the time I worked with my dad had and not continue to digest the bitter pill of his lost. I choose to find joy in the new adventure that I am on, pursuing the career that I love. I choose to remember my Jimbo and all of our porch talks, cribbage games, and laughs over jellybelly jelly beans and rum and coke. I choose to remember his kind smile and the pride he had in me, and the way he loved my family. 

I choose joy and remembrance on April 5th, 2014. 

love,

Kelly 

Jimbo and I

My Dad and I 

[ before I even begin, let me clarify with saying that I understand the irony of this post….that I am writing about, well you’ll see….]

have you ever heard a recording of your own voice? I have and hate it. In January I recorded myself several times reading something very short for church and as I listened to the recording I just kept thinking that I felt so bad for everyone that had to listen to me on a daily basis. I thought that my voice was nasally and didn’t sound at all like I hear myself. It was nearly painful to hear my own voice played back.

A couple of years ago I lost my voice. I had a case of laryngitis that was persistent for approximately 9 months. It left me utter speechless at times. (I am sure that you can imagine all of the jokes I heard about my condition….. “oh, what do you have to say Kelly?’ “Oh, I wish my wife would catch that!”…. not funny, it gets old after a few months) Nevertheless I remember the first day that I left speech therapy and I heard my voice for the first time. It took a lot of work, but I was able to call my mom and get out the words, “Hi Mom, it’s me Kelly. I’m talking.” It pretty much took all of my energy to just utter that phrase. I had to think so much and calculate my words in a way that was foreign. This was easily one of the biggest accomplishments of my life…saying those 7 words. Needless to say, my voice is my Achilles’ heel.

However, there is so much more than just the physiological reasoning behind my voice being a weakness for me. I don’t know why, but recently I have been thinking about the fact that I am the one that hears my voice more than anyone else. (most people are probably saying “duh, Kelly” at this point) For some reason, this thought blew. my. mind. I hear my voice more than anyone else. Not only am I present for every conversation that I participate in, but I constantly hear the internal dialogue of my thoughts. Sometimes this is good. Sometimes, my own voice within my head is processing all that is around me. Oftentimes, I think that this processing is funny because let’s be honest……I’m hilarious(well, at least I think I am). However, just like speaking those 7 simple words or hearing the recording, sometimes hearing my own voice can be painful. Quite often this voice is tearing me apart. I am not enough. I’m failing. I’m alone. This voice leaves my spirit void and my heart filled with despair, and brokenness. I deceive myself into believing that those are fact. I lie to myself and say that I speak the truth to myself. However, the real truth is that those are feelings. Quite often my voice tells me that I am inadequate and not equipped. However, the truth is that God has equipped me and called me. My voice often silences the truth that others speak into me, although they know and love me, I often find an excuse (given to me by my voice) to not hear the truth that they speak.

So for this Lenten season I have tried to hear less of my own voice. (Although I probably still speak just as much) I try to not listen to my internal voice that tears me down. I try to not hear the voice that claws at my spirit. I am vowing to spend time daily in meditation where I breathe in truth and exhale the lies that I tell myself. It is difficult. I struggle. I find myself at times feeling discouraged and although I know that my feelings are valid that they are not necessarily fact. I lie to myself.

The truth found in scripture, creation, and spoken to me by others must be louder than the lies that I tell myself.

Now, I know that my voice is not all bad. I know that at times I am the one that God uses to speak truth into others. But in this season, I desire to hear less of my own voice and more of others. Less lies more truth. I am so thankful for those who speak words of truth and affirmation to me daily. I am especially thankful for those that continue to love me even when I don’t accept the truth.

I don’t know if you are like me. Perhaps your own voice speaks words that affirm your spirit. However, I believe that the root of my lying voice is the sin that I am stuck in. in which case, I would challenge that we all suffer with internal dialogue of sin of some kind. My hope for you (and me) is that we would work to silence that and turn our hearts towards truth.

In the days that I was rendered silent I was able to see how essential and mighty my voice can be.

I still believe that it is truly powerful.

2013.

Well, here we are in 2014. 2013 was a fantastic year. It was one of the more difficult years of my life but also one of the most fulfilling and rewarding. It was filled with adventures, laughter, good friends, sweet laughter, joys, mourning, dancing, newness, and challenges. Looking back, I would not change a thing. I think that I will look back in a coming day and see 2013 as the year I became myself. There were so many great things that happened in 2013, but I thought I would share a favorite moment from each month….

1. Being able to serve in the beginning of the year with South Lee Athletics…. what an awesome organization with some great people!

2. Celebrating with my bestie when she said, “yes” 

3.  Watching our small town college destroy everyone’s march madness brackets….thanks dunk city

4. Finding out I was moving to Alabama, and then visiting for the first time

5. Karaoke nights, themed parties, the conclusion of the office and beach days with my crazy friends.

6. Resigning from two jobs, packing my apartment, and celebrating two weeks of unemployment with my bestie (June was a crazy month!)

7. kickball in the rain for my first night with my new kids here

8. Standing next to my bestie as she took her marriage vows

9. Going back to school, feeling discouraged and being reminded that I don’t have to be confident in myself but rather the One who dwells within me. 

10. Turning 27. it pretty much just rocks. 

11. Thanksgiving with my crazy, awesome, sweet family. 

12. Realizing that I have two homes….and how truly special that is. 

((and so many other sweet, crazy, awesome moments))

365 days ago I would not have believed what this year would have in store. It has been a roller coaster of a year. It fills me with anticipation for all that will come with 2014!

Bring on the adventures 2014, I’m ready!

“Life is either a daring adventure or nothing.”- Helen Keller

So, I have been here for 165 days

(not that I  have been counting….I just have an app on my phone)

So much has changed over 165 days. In many ways I am feeling more and more settled in as each day passes. I completed my first semester of school (thank you Jesus- because I was quite certain I was too dumb), I love job, I love my kids, life is good. Life is good, but it is not always easy. The last 165 days have been pretty much anything but easy. I have struggled, doubted, cried, been uncomfortable, been scared, been nervous, leapt out of my comfort zone, and so much more. I have discovered what it means to have two places to call home. I have been humbled through the accepting of gifts, and accepting of praise or correction. I have learned. I have learned about what it means to be in ministry professionally, what it means to be in school, what it means to do both at the same time. I have learned about myself and others. I have learned about southern culture and denominational beliefs. I have learned a lot.

In 165 days I have grown, and changed. I have gotten up each day and tried to not allow anxiety or self doubt run my life. Some of those 165 days I succeed and others I failed, but each day I got up. So much has changed in 165 days. But here is the one thing that I have had to cling to; The Lord is with me. He is constant and His love is enduring and everlasting.

In my loneliest and craziest moments He was there. He is not a God who is distant. He has been with me then, alongside of me now, and before me. Without Him I would not have survived day 2, let alone day 164.

I am, because He is.

As we prepare for Christmas, that is what we are celebrating. We celebrate that we have a God that love us to the point that He came to us. We celebrate that we are loved by a God that knew that we could not do it alone. He knew that we needed grace, and forgiveness and love and He sent that as His son.

So, on day 167 I go home to Florida. I go home different. I have changed, as I know “home” has as well. But, I go home to celebrate, to rejoice, to spend time with so many people I love dearly. I am so thankful for the past 165 days, and for what has been done within me because of them.

165 days. Wow.

Here’s to 166….