Skip to main content

Meet Me

Raised in the nearly Canadian state of Michigan, my accent is half Canadian, half Midwestern, with a dash of Southern phrases thrown in for good measure. I have lived a thousand years in my three plus decades and seen both the depths and heights of humanity. I fell in love at nineteen with a skater punk wearing jeans that made my mother blush and my father question my life choices. I make good choices. The skater punk turned out to be the best one ever. He proposed nine months later, married me and we made babies, lived off of frozen ravioli, finished college and grad school. He's moved on to a Ripstik and still makes my heart flutter. We threw ourselves head first into the world of special needs when we adopted three of our kiddos from China. Between all of our kids we have an enormous amount of special needs represented here in our chaotic home. 



I love people. They are amazing, capable of changing the course of history, resilient, unchangeable, unique and quirky. I see God shining through people, their creativity reflecting His, their uniqueness reflecting His many traits. I believe people are complex, capable of great goodness and alternately capable of horrific crimes. At the end of the day, I believe God is greater and His goodness binds me to Him each and every single day. Therefore, life is full of goodness, and people are created to be good. 

Jesus. He is everything. And while I am learning to leave so many past false teachings behind, I am clinging to His goodness. He is good and kind and the Son of the God who made these crazy humans. 

Hang on as we journey through this road. It's bumpy and I'm learning as I go. But let's change the world as we live, huh? Let's bring down the forms of injustice, fight for the oppressed, hate discrimination and love more and more and more. Let's still believe in goodness, Jesus and love. 

All my love and deepest blessings,

Katie







Comments

  1. Hello, new friend. My son didn't speak until he was almost four. Water was "ah" and so on. My business partner Jen and I run a website and would like to feature a post of yours that you're particularly proud of and want more eyes on. The site is http://breaktheparentingmold.com/ and gets some really great views. If you're interested, please email us at hello@breaktheparentingmold.com. Best to you and yours.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Sure! Shoot me an email to hookedonfaith05@gmail.com and we can figure out how to work on this together. Thanks so much for asking.

      Delete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Loving A Child Who Cannot Speak

I have a daughter and she is nonverbal. It is one of the most difficult portions of my life. When the tears fall it becomes a guessing game. When we miss the mark of the needs the tears become screams. The frustration that mounts for everyone is intense. That screaming can last for what feels like an eternity. What ends it? Her resignation. She has no choice but to quit. Nobody is answering her need. Because we don't even know what it is. Imagine all of your needs every single day and now imagine that you can never, not even once, tell one single person what you need. What a horrifying thing. Those dreams where you are being chased and you are scared and you try to scream for help but nothing comes out of your throat? That is her world. And we, as her parents, watch on in sheer pain and frustration. Just sign it!!! Just try to say something. Anything. And she does. Every single day this brave soul yells out, makes sounds, tries. Not a single day goes by when she doesn't try...

The boy who called me mama

The hallways were stripped bare and I heard every flip of my flops and the nearly silent swish of my long, navy maxi skirt. My hair was pulled up and braided to avoid lice, my stomach trying to hold onto breakfast. The lights in the room were yellowed and cast a strange brightness to all of the chipped tiles on the walls. I stepped through the threshold and saw a small children's couch on my right side and noticed how few children were in this room. They scooted, crawled, demanded to be scooped into my arms. As my knees found the floor the very air seemed rife with knowing. The word "mama" escaped the lips of a small child. "Mama." Before recognizing the moment and closing the doors to my soul, I scooped him up into my arms and breathed him into my memory. I willed the tears not to fall. "Mama." My heart would have spilled over into a prayer if my lips had cooperated. I remembered just enough not to tell him I loved him. It would cheapen those word...

To The Broken Ones

Today you yelled, said words you never thought would pass your lips. Yesterday you stopped holding fiercely onto hope.  You chucked a piece of bread against a wall and watched it crumble to the ground.  It seemed poetic to you. The dishes are spilling beyond the boundaries of the sink and the counter is shining back to you with water as its mockery. Some moms have weekly meal lists and you have a frozen pizza. Your Pinterest boards hold thousands of pins. And they stay there, pinned, convincing you that you are worthless. Your friends post pictures of being dressed up for a date night while you  hope for just one day without screaming at each other.  Your children have watched you come unglued. They have heard words that rightly shame your soul.  You are battered and bruised and your soul is begging you with every whisper to retreat into hiding. Hide this shame. Hide this ugliness. Hide the words spoken. Hide the terror of your heart. Hide th...