katie rose writes

I found myself in tears a few nights ago; fresh off a FaceTime date,  I open my emails to two reminders of things I’m longing for, things I’m desperate for—to go and to write. My heart wavers in belief towards them both. Yes, I’m in the middle of going—the exact middle of my term, in fact.  And I’m also in the middle of writing—I’ve written more in the past 10 months than in the past 10 years, combined. I’m beech mai in these twin callings, these twin pillars that I cannot for the life of me decide if I’m standing in between as a judge—Samson, enchained and destined to die in the defeat of the enemy… or as a priest—Zechariah, holding incense and entering the holy places where God steps in to speak an absurd promise of abundance in the long years of barrenness… If the first, I’m going to destroy not just the gifts, but myself also. Not just the enemy, but myself. If the second, I’m asking questions that were never meant to be asked. I’ll be as silent as my wavering be

I woke up early & she woke up with me, pulling herself up in the darkened room to softly sing “Happy Birthday” over me. We both, smiling, went back to sleep for awhile. I got up again, got sick, got dressed, got knee deep in words I’m trying to memorize. Then, as I curled back up across the bed, my sweet friend threw the covers back and said, Ok, now we will pray little bit, because it is your birthday! She bent down onto her knees, laid her Bible open, and asked, What is your favorite song? It is such an easy answer—the first Hindi song I ever learned, in a basement with twenty other students 6 years ago, will remain forever the dearest in my heart. And so we sang. She read some verses and gave me her heart’s words for me—to never be lonely or afraid, because God is with me. And she said she hopes that the year ahead will be full of new vision, joy, and peace. Her prayer over me echoed all these words and more, as my mind raced to understand them all behind their syllables. 

A few weeks ago, I posted a story . A story of walls falling and hearts opening and truth being shared and let into some really dark places. I found myself a little brave, and wanted others to take the risk too. So, I wrote. But I need you to know that, more often than I want, that one moment of bravery is surrounded by a sea of fear, a lonely island of victory battered by a storm of anxiety.  I need to be real here: Sometimes I miss the moment.  Sometimes bravery doesn't win.  Sometimes, I know what I need to say and I don't say it. I let too many minutes pass by, and I miss it.  *** I sat down in my seat on a plane. A whisper of a prayer came in a heartbeat: please let me sit by a girl. I wasn't even asking for conversation, for an opportunity. Just a friendly face to sit with.  And He answered that prayer.  We began talking—this sweet, smart girl and I. And we had a good couple of minutes of conversation before the plane took off. We found out why we