blueberries.

This weekend was not fun. And when I say not fun, I mean really not fun. like at all. 
There was no fun in this weekend. 
It did not exist. 
and then I dropped a whole quart of blueberries on the ground today. bam. right on the floor. 
Standing alone in the kitchen I looked down at my feet and shouted, "you have GOT to be kidding me." 
It was my fault: I put the carton in the door on the refrigerator and they took flight as soon as I opened it. An entire quart spilled, little berries rolling to the the furthest corner of the kitchen. So I did what any frustrated woman would do: I took a bowl from the cupboard and I bent down on the wood to pick up each pretty little berry. 
Each one was so delicate and just a tiny bit bruised. I couldn't sweep them up. Not even with my hand making wide swooping motions like I would with spilled rice or beans. Nope. Blueberries are far too tender. I knew I needed to save them. Precious berries spread all over the dusty fall floor doesn't mean they are fit for the trash. 
I chose each one by hand, dropping them carefully into the bowl. 
One by one, one by one. 
Into a colander they went. I washed them with cool water, freeing them of whatever they'd picked up on the floor. Who wants to eat dusty fruit? Even more, who wants to eat bruised berries?
I popped one into my mouth. Even slightly bruised, they were perfect. 
Sometimes, I think about my own journey. There have been many times when I have felt like it might have been better if I had been swept up and poured into the garbage. If not better, then at the very least, easier. 
But that just isn't true. 
Each one of us has fallen out of the door. And instead of a wide sweep and an I'm-done-with-you, we've been picked up carefully. Chosen, even. Purposefully, and with extreme care. 
And slowly and gently, we've been made okay again. 
Bruised, and broken perhaps, makes the journey even sweeter, I think. 
Wishing you a Monday filled with love reminders, patience, and maybe even some blueberries.

wherever your feet may go.

Christian University: a place of higher education with the goal of integrating faith into learning and fostering spiritual growth. 

An honest letter to high school students considering Christian school: 
First of all, let me just say this: it's not what you are expecting it to be. 
I know all about the glossy ads. The campus lawns are meticulously, perfectly maintained. They almost look like the green pastures straight out of the 23rd Psalm, and you just can't wait to lie down and rest. A few yards away, there's several hipster college boys lazily throwing a football back and forth in the glorious sun. I know. I know, I know. 
Maybe high school has been hard for you. You just want to belong somewhere. Or maybe it's the total opposite. You are filled to the brim with excitement and expectation, looking forward, full of hope. 
You think "Christian College" and you picture smiley students lit like candles from the inside out, glowing brightly in our dark, dark world. Instant friendships are formed over 2-in-the-morning conversations and boxes of donuts. It feels safe. It feels simple. 
Here's the truth, guys: 
Where Jesus-followers gather, there is love, wildly beautiful and full of grace. 
AND. 
Where Jesus-followers gather, there is pettiness. gossip. pain. 
They are, after all, human. We are, after all, human. Young, searching. Making big mistakes, taking big leaps, just trying to figure out where we all fit in the world. 
It will look like hypocrisy at times, unfortunately. It will make you want to double back. Maybe even question the truth. 
At some point, the scripture themed hallways will inevitably feel like a cliche, and the Bible you carry to class may feel heavy on your back. 
There's a good chance someone will scrawl a bible verse on your whiteboard or slip some scripture on a notecard underneath your door in an effort to insult you or guilt you. It's just part of it. 
The rules you agreed to when you signed on the dotted line will tighten around your neck; you will tire. It's just part of it. 
Friends, sweet friends. This is what it means to grow up. To jump bravely and fearlessly into your future and come down hard on the unyielding ground. You may find yourself a little broken, a little sad, a little lonely. and that's just part of it, too. 
But here's the real big thing I want to tell you: don't give up. 
You will most likely find yourself at a fork in the road of your Christian campus journey: perform or disappear. Prove that your faith is strong and steadfast, or shrink back and hide. 
Choose neither. 
Choose stillness. Choose love. 
Always love. 
Don't fear the darkness. I promise you, it will come. Even in a place that promises light. It's okay to question. It's okay to wrestle. It's okay to discuss. I encourage you not to accept the easy answer or give into monotonous routine that carries little meaning. Push toward the hard edges of pain. Be honest. Be a catalyst. 
Eat cold pizza, stay out past curfew, and be intentional. 
Make friends from outside this place; find them in coffee shops or bookstores or the street corner, if you have to. Listen to their stories. I mean really listen. 
Get connected in community. Find those few people that will battle alongside you. Begin to make heart ties. Begin to branch out. 
Breathe in deep breaths. Often. Jump into the lake in the middle of winter, give tight hugs, and laugh as often as possible. Sing horribly at the top of your lungs, bake cookies at midnight, and study hard. 
Know that God is here. He is there. 
He is alive. You are alive. 
... and that, my friends, is a big deal. 
Here's to late nights, breaking through cliches, and living well... wherever your feet may go :)

take heart

I'm already in tears and the first sentence hasn't even been completed. 
Friends, this post has been long-awaited. I have anticipated it's arrival with great joy and great excitement. It's a huge HUGE deal. 
There have been tears. There has been silence. There has been challenges. There has been opposition.There has also been perfect peace, rest, and victory. Sweet, sweet victory. 
Let me back up a bit. Give you some background. 
She has deep brown eyes and the sweetest little dimples. She has been broken and hurt and bullied, yet has remained eagerly ready to learn how to listen and balance and love. She is absolutely beautiful in both body and soul, and she is one of my most favorite people ever created.  I see good in her heart for a million and more miles, and I love watching her chambers beat hard and fast after God's. She is what good women are made of. 
Is it any wonder that when I met her scared and lonely and confused self...
...and I saw the turmoil raging in her heart
... and I heard the lies being poured out over her
... and I saw the mental, physical, and spiritual repercussions of battling without armor
... is it any wonder that I actually imagined taking the devil by the collar and throwing him across some big imaginary field so he could never attempt to steal, lie, or hurt again? 
I spent many months with her simply consoling, speaking of grace and what Jesus has for those who suffer well. But internally, there were many times where my oven was at the burnt bread level. 
I watched her, day after day, slip her tiny arm under her messenger bag and head out into the world. and my mind just reeled at how much I have to learn. Jesus made no bones about the trouble we have coming in this world.
"In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world."   What does that even look like?? 
Take heart. 
I can tell you that at the beginning of this year, neither of us really knew. But I knew something had to be done. 
Her world was flat. I mean really, really flat. Flat in color, flat in song, flat in hope. There was a lot of hurt, a lot of anger, and a lot of sorrow. Heart-wrenching sobs and apathy came in waves, darkness heavy and scary. There were several long nights of continuous pleading with Jesus, and several nights where the only option seemed to be sleep. She was deep in a pit. It was unrelenting. 
And it was time she got out. 
So I began to explore on her behalf.
Take heart.   
How do I do that, in the midst of incredible suffering. What am I saying to my sister when I ask her to cling tightly to Jesus? 
As I sorted through the world, and walked so closely with her as she began to come back to life and into His arms... I discovered that there are two ways to handle suffering. 
One way leads to abundant life. 
and the other way??
It has the sting of death all over it. 
__________

... I'm on a bench outside now. I took a break for a while, picked up my laptop, and headed outside. The shadow around me is a tree, and I have a notebook. There's a bush just right here where bees kiss the sweet nectar all over. It smells of cinnamon sugar and autumn. It sounds like the calming whir of hummingbirds and weed-eater. There's boys in the street boarding, and two little wee ones are having a hula hoop contest. I'm laughing. The sun is sweet, and the breeze is making everything sway just a little. There's just the right amount of quiet. 
As I get older, and I encounter more and more people, hear more and more stories, I know more.  I know more of the crumpled-heart, those who never feel full, those who labor with no fruit, those who feel betrayed and worthless and looked over. 
She was just like that, you know. I met her, and she was knee deep in it. I could see how deep she had fallen into the hopelessness that comes from the trouble of the world. 
Take heart. 
If Jesus Himself told us that we can expect trouble, then we better believe it's coming. 
If Jesus Himself told us that we can take heart, because He has already overcome the world, then we better take it. 
It's the choice to suffer in a way that shouts victory. 
Take heart. 
Because if you don't take it, you'll lose it. 
Now right about here is the point where I would love to bold bullet point some amazing step-by-step instructions, but I have none. 
But there is one hard, beautiful truth that has wrapped itself around and around the both of us during this year. It was there, working it's grace and it's beauty and it's freedom before we even realized it. 
It may sound like the worst of news, but to me? to her? 
It is Salvation. 
I am crucified with Christ, and I myself no longer live, but Christ lives in me. 
Jesus lives in me. He lives in her. and if He has called you to Himself, then He lives in YOU, too. Try to wrap your brain around that one. 
Friends, I watched her this year. Believe me when I say her life was a mess. 
Her life was marked by discontentment, fear, and bondage. 
But then Jesus. 
Jesus moved her into unknown territory, and she became a warrior. A courageous warrior because she knew it was He who moved her and He who had overcome. 
At several points over the last year, she would look at me and say "I wish I weren't so weak." 
But in that VERY weakness, I watched in awe as Jesus began to remind her of her worth, of her power, of her beauty. 
It's a funny thing how trials seem to lead us straight into His arms, into an honest way of peace. The weak pit of her soul, the empty places, the crying out places... they became the place from  which she began to renounce the lies and SHOUT the truth that HE LIVES in her. 
Just imagine her dry bones standing up, fighting back.   That's what happened this year. 
It happened 365 days ago, when my sweet little sister said NO to an eating disorder. 
It happened when she decided that her body was a temple and she was not bound to the lies of the devil, but rather she is a vessel of holiness created perfectly and with extreme care. 
365 days of choosing to eat. 365 days of choosing not to throw up. 365 days of training her body.   Friends, she has a long way to go. I'm not blind to that, and neither is she. 
But today? We're celebrating. 
Because 365 days is a LONG TIME. And she made it. She is healthy. and she is filled with joy. 
So why write about it? 
The answer is simple. To be a voice of the gospel, to confess that there is struggle and doubt and disobedience and terribly broken hearts involved when you decide to follow Jesus. 
But I know I can speak for the both of us when I say this: 
Take heart, sisters. I believe that it's true that He lives in you. All these little deaths we die are just sweet, straight avenues right into His arms. Don't miss it. Take heart. It's a stone-real fact that the very essence of Jesus Christ indwells you. 
Every kind of courage and peace and triumph is in Him, and He has overcome the word.   Guess what that means?? 
It means that courage, peace, and triumph lives in you, too. 
Will you believe it? 
Take heart.   Oh, and baby sister? You're a rockstar. Happy I-have-overcome-an-eating-disorder anniversary.  
P.S.  If you are struggling with an eating disorder, I beg you to tell someone. Don't let yourself battle alone. If you want to hear more of Caitlin's story, or chat with her more about her journey out of bulimia and into freedom, I encourage you to email her! cpeterss26@aol.com