40 Favorite Birthday Memories

I once did an entire sermon series on the number 40.  It's everywhere.  Jesus fasted for 40 days.  Moses was atop Mt. Sinai for 40 days.  Jesus ascended 40 days after his resurrection from the dead.  The Israelites wandered for 40 years. 

In scripture 40 signals a kind of change:  After 40 days, the devil departed, Moses left Mt. Sinai, and Jesus ascended.  After 40 years the promised land was within sight.

Maybe that's why turning 40 feels so significant.  What kind of change will it mean for me?

I don't know, but I do know 40 began with a bang thanks to my family, my pastor friends, my DC friends, and my work friends.  Cliché alert:  The best things in life aren't things.  Relationship with God and relationship with others is it.  Nothing compares.  

I'm not sure what's ahead, but I am sure these people, these relationships will continue to enrich my life.  Here are 40 favorite memories to share with you from October 2020:

• Celebrating Mary Dee, Eleanor, and Aunt Katie in Kentucky.  Eating cake made by my sister-in-law Jaime.

                              

• Socially-distanced dining with my parents in Kentucky.

• Finding my Mom's Master's Thesis in the attic.  Major props, Pat. 



• Kourtney popped on down to Beaver Dam while I was in Kentucky because she is an all-star friend.  Here she is with a slotted spoon of her brother's.

• Surprise Harry Potter dinner with my pastor pals.  Gah.  I love them.  

 

• The decor was nothing short of inspiring.  Shout out Dianna.

• The snacks were adorable.  Have yourself a golden snitch.

• Bruce baked this cake from scratch and Alessandra added the Harry Potter lettering.  That chocolate frosting is the best I've tasted.

• Birthday lunch with these all-stars who have dropped everything to help me numerous times. We ate cake (see above) that I put in my trunk for safe-keeping (trunk cake).

• Later that day I forgot about the cake and it...did not survive the trunk.  Sorry trunk cake.

• En route to a work destination I stayed with Bruce and Alessandra in Culpeper.  I also convinced Laura and Kenny to bring their brand new RV and park it in Bruce and Alessandra's yard.  IT WAS AMAZING.

• Jam session at Bruce and Alessandra's house (in masks!)

• Alessandra and Bruce welcome me into their home no less than 4 nights per month as I travel throughout Virginia.  They listen, cook for me, and are two of my favorite people.

• Voting.  Waited 102 minutes.  Worth every one.

• Aunt Mary sent me these socks.

• I wrote almost 40 entries about turning 40.  It was a good exercise.  I like to write, and it was good to focus on gratitude.  Sometimes it's been difficult to be thankful (especially this year).

• Friends sent and gave me the most thoughtful gifts.  Thanks Smiths and Tiff/Tif.

• My nieces called me to sing Happy Birthday

• I am loving early morning walks with Brooke in DC.  We see and hear history.  It's cold, but we talk, talk, talk (just like West Wing).  It's one of my favorite new traditions.

• In early October I went to a Facebook ColorStreet Nail Party and had the best time.  It was so much fun, so I am hosting one myself.  I'm posting live videos like they're going out of style.  Join us.

• Brooke, Mary, Artemia, and Cindy organized an AMAZING, Covid-respecting gathering and parade.  It was incredibly meaningful.  I could cry just typing about it.  There were cards from all over the country (THANK YOU) and a parade of friends from Memorial Baptist, the church that loved and grew me up as a pastor.  Here's the beginning of the party where I thought just a few of us (masked and on a porch!) were dressing up Disney style for some cake.  Donald Duck (AJ) and Ariel (Katie) enjoy some cheese (Katie) and drooling (AJ).

• Brooke says "Let's go outside and take pictures!  The light is good!"  Brooke always says this so we all hop up.  Look at this sweet picture of Brooke and her hubby Jason.  

• A pic with the children of my friends.  Gah.  It's like loving little versions of your favorite people.  Please note Ariel's (Ellie's) dinglehopper (fork).
  

• Then surprise a parade started.  All Ariel knew to do was wave.  So much love from my friends.  Oh my.

• The cars were decorated FABULOUSLY.  This one started the parade.  It was, after all, the one year anniversary of the Nats winning the World Series.  What a joy to see this couple.  I read scripture at their wedding (10?) years ago!

• These friends helped me find a place to live when I moved back to northern Virginia.  We've been through thick and thin.  We also share a love for the Nats.

• These friends are dear to me.  They're gifted with hospitality and humor (among other things).  Randi, Mary, and I took a trip to NYC in November and it was the best.  

• This is when the tears began flowing.  Colleen made a poster with a picture of Pete on it.  We lost Pete not too long ago.  I know he would've been at the parade--yelling something hilarious and wanting to talk politics no doubt.  I miss him.  Adam, Pete's son, is in the car.  He was a senior in the youth group at Memorial Baptist when I started there, and returned to mentor youth after graduating college.  

• The Hernandez family is dear to me, though you cannot tell by this picture.  Jesse dressed as Ursula, so we had to play the part.

• Sally and I served together for 6 years at Memorial Baptist.  I was at the hospital when Elias was born, and Emmelia has come to visit in Scottsville.  I loved serving alongside Sally

• Hannah and Jessica arrived in style--the style of a mermaid appearing outside of a Honda Civic sunroof.  I love it.

• The Hills, Charlotte Benjamin, and others (forgive me if I have forgotten others!) also rolled on by.  It was a gift to see everyone.  My first roommate in Arlington, Andrea Lupo, and her husband Jeff Morrow paraded by too.  I married them a year-and-a-half ago!  More happiness.

• You'll see this picture twice, because the first time I want to highlight the Piñatagram.  It came in the mail and was filled with candy.  GOOD CANDY.  Thanks Kudners.

• Artemia, Sally, and I started at Memorial in 2006.  What a joy to share 14 years of friendship with them.

• Snow White (Mary), Bruno (Jon), Ariel (Ellie), and Belle (Katherine) hosted us.  They made a lovely charcuterie board, and Jon and the girls decorated the back porch.  Everything was perfect.  Mary is such a good person.

• Elsa (Cindy) made the cake, crackers, and cauliflower soup from scratch.  All delicious.  Cindy Schall is one of the best.  Don't forget it.

• Here I am with said cake.  Let me tell you about it:  One white cake layer, one raspberry cake layer, and another white cake layer.  Chocolate mousse held it all together.  The top and sides were buttercream, and dark chocolate dots decorated the top.  Cindy had a Disney printout with my name (!!!) and age on it.  Spectacular.  These people hummed Happy Birthday to me.  Artemia spoke the words.
  

• We went back inside and Brooke had created a video of pictures and kind words from family and friends.  Again, waterworks.  "Brooke!  My best friend!  It's my best friend!"

• Party's Over.  I thought it was 10:00p and it was time to go so I started to leave.  It was 7:50.  I think their love, gifts, and grace were so wonderful I was overwhelmed.  They have teased me mercilessly since (as they should).

• This is a stack of posters and cards from all over the nation.  Again, thanks to my friends I felt the love from so many people.  Thank you, friends.

Thank you friends and family.  Thank you.

When He Called My Friend the N-word

Pam and I have been friends for 13 years.  We’ve taken at least a dozen sermon-writing retreats together until Pam had the nerve to retire and move to the beach (where—by the way—she and her lovely husband have hosted my entire family for 2 vacations).  I miss those sermon retreats.  We laughed, cried, and sought the Lord together.

Pam is a gift-giver.  If she’s your friend, you know this.  She MacGyvers her way into your personal info and regularly surprises you. This is TMI, but this post is vulnerability-city for me so here goes:  One time we were talking undergarments and how the best, supportive, and most lovely brands are so expensive—my favorite brand in particular. Pam took note and for years picked up my favorite brand for me…just because she delights in giving people extravagant gifts.  The extravagance is an expression of her love. 

Years ago on my birthday Pam wanted to treat me for lunch so we agreed to meet halfway.  I selected a small restaurant—it seemed to have local flair—and was excited to see Pam.  We arrived near the same time and walked in together, and I kid you not people stared at us uninterrupted for 30 seconds.  Eventually I waved at the people to break their gaze.  I shrugged it off and we sat down at a booth.  The waitress brought our menus and I excused myself to the bathroom.  As I was returning to our table, a man looked at me and said it:  

The n-word.

He said it loud and clear for all to hear.

I stopped, gritted my teeth, and felt anger course through my body. I don’t know if I’ve ever been that angry.  I stood and stared at him—returning the gaze we'd been given as we entered the restaurant.  And then—I’m ashamed to say—I grew afraid of him.  He was a big man with a posse of people at his table, so I looked away and returned to our booth having said nothing.  I am still ashamed.  

And then the craziest thing happened. 

A woman seated at the man's table came over to our booth.  She sat down with Pam and me.  She said nothing to Pam, but apologized—to me—for the man having said the word.  “He wasn’t talking about you,” she said, as if this somehow absolved him, as if it was okay to use the n-word as long as it didn’t apply to present company.  

Later I told Pam what the man said and her response gutted me.

“That’s normal,” she said. 

I didn’t know this.  I should have, but I didn’t.

I grieved the rest of the day.  I cried, felt shame, and obsessed over what I should or could have done differently. 

That day opened my eyes.  I didn’t want to believe people could be so cruel, but that’s just naïve and likely a result of my privilege as a white person. 

I’m sorry. 

Since then I’ve learned more about blatant racism, and also the myriad of micro-aggressions coddled by our culture. I’m still learning.

Why do I tell you this now? I cannot stop thinking about Ahmaud Arbery.

Did you know black families are afraid to let their sons and daughters jog in the street for fear someone might think they’re a burglar AND SHOOT THEM?

This is their normal.

That should break our hearts and lead us to action.  What is your action?  What is mine? I’m praying God will show me the way.  Will you join me in that prayer?

The Trouble With Angels

If you were to rewind to my childhood, you'd find a couple of worn out VHS tapes.  Chief among them was The Trouble with Angels, a funny and insightful movie about calling.  The surprise ending reveals the imperfect protagonist Mary (Hayley Mills) is called to ministry.

Mary is a precocious teenager sent off to Catholic boarding school.  Mary and her friend Rachel are thick as thieves.  They pull pranks, smoke in the bathroom, and wreak hilarious havoc on nuns and students alike.  Not even Mary's cousin Marvel-Ann (awesome name) is spared.

As Mary matures so does her sense of calling, and the patient Reverend Mother helps Mary listen to God.  But even still Mary's calling sneaks up on her.  It's a poignant picture of the sometimes surprising nature of call.  Happily The Trouble with Angels taught young, Protestant Katie that God calls all kinds of people to do God's work: the silly, serious, mischievous, extroverted, introverted, young, old, confident, unassuming, people we expect and others who make our jaws drop.  If you don't believe me there is a book I might suggest.

This book is the Bible.

My scripture reading this morning was the disciples' miraculous catch of fish. Here's the comedy:  They caught 153 fish, the seasoned fishermen took advice from a "stranger," and SURPRISE the "stranger" is Jesus.  A bunch of funny details led to revelation and calling.

"Angel" Katie McKown

In The Trouble with Angels funny details lead to revelation and calling.  Mary's pranks reveal a zest for life (helpful in ministry!), and her growing admiration for the sisters helps midwife a sacred vocation in her own life.

And in my life a movie about a budding, sassy nun in Catholic boarding school helped reveal my call to ministry.  There's a reason I wore out this VHS, and even as a girl I think I knew God was stirring a calling within me.

Thanks be to God for the funny details.

Lament and Hope

Have you been to the grocery store lately?  There are a million memes about toilet paper, but more pressing is the feeling of fear in every aisle.  The anxiety is palpable, and as a person prone to feeling what’s going on around me—it's almost physically painful to observe.

The worry over two-ply or one isn’t the issue.  It’s the fear of someone we love being struck with illness.  It’s the uncertainty of when the curve will flatten.  It’s the anger.  It’s the grief.  It’s the anxiety of inadvertently carrying the illness and giving it to others.  It’s worry about job loss.  It’s all these things and a million more.  The next time you’re at the grocery store look at people’s eyes—so many pairs are glazed over in resignation. 

I know this reads as depressing, but at present it’s simply the reality.  We needn’t paste a smiley-face emoji on everything (I do this) because everything is not happy.  One need only look to a lament psalm to see honesty about our emotions can be a vital part of our prayer.

Read Psalm 42.  It begins beautifully with a deer panting for a stream as we long for the Lord, but as the psalm continues fear-riddled questions are posed: (9-11a) I say to God my Rock, “Why have you forgotten me? Why must I go about mourning, oppressed by the enemy?”  My bones suffer mortal agony as my foes taunt me, saying to me all day long, “Where is your God?” Why, my soul, are you downcast? Why so disturbed within me?

Lament is part of the psalmist’s prayer.  

Friends:  It’s okay to lament AND at the same time it’s also okay to put our hope in God.  Sometimes lament and hope coexist, so we pray all of it to God. 

But don't miss the psalmist's refrain:  Hope. Look at verses 5b and 11b:  Put your hope in God, for I will yet praise him, my Savior and my God.  11b is the bookend of the psalm—a reminder that come what may we are people of hope, God is with us, and we give God praise.

For me this means choosing hope daily.  What does that look like for Katie McKown?

• Starting my day with ‘Pray as You Go’—a prayer app based on Ignatian Spirituality.  Music, prayer, scripture, and guided questions begin my morning.  This is an app new to me and it’s a good fit for this season.
• Praying specifically for people by name
• Taking a walk outside
• Scheduling FaceTime calls with friends and family.  Sometimes I call to work puzzles (hey I’m #cool) or games, and other times I call because I’m feeling anxious or worried.
• Updating my Instagram and Facebook pages more regularly to communicate with my neighbors
• Trying out Facebook Live to share puns
• Sending thank-you cards or surprising friends with gifts in the mail
• Refraining from reading news when I feel overwhelmed
• Taking a nap when I feel tired
• Writing

I continue to lament over COVID-19, but hope is the beginning and end of my prayer (or that is my goal, rather).  The choices above help me choose hope, and maybe choosing hope looks different for you.  What does choosing hope look like for you? I’d love to hear your suggestions. 

God is with us, brothers and sisters.  This is reason for hope. 

#Puzzletime with my pals Randi (L) and Tony (R)

Women Were Not the Echo Today

I will worship…  (men lead)

I will worship… (women echo)

With all of my heart… (men)

With all of my heart… (women echo)

The soundtrack of my early 20s was contemporary Christian music.  I still enjoy it, and although I also like the liturgical calendar and smells and bells—I’ll never not sing my heart out to "Big House."

Somewhere along the way I noticed women often (always?) echoed the men in praise choruses—this happened at conferences and on the radio.  At first it seemed normal because it was presented as such, but one day it struck me:  Why is this normal?  Why do men always sing the lead?  Why are women always the echo? 

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Fast forward to this week. 

Women were not the echo.

Chapel Service at Tyndale Seminary

Our Uptick Voice cohort gathered in Toronto at Tyndale Seminary.  We are a group of women who are leaders in the church and nonprofit world.  As part of our learning experience we worshipped with the seminary community, and as we entered the sanctuary we were met with a diverse team of women leading us.

I was immediately struck by the visual and before I realized it I was choking back tears.  The tears were a response to the beauty of the moment and also the rarity of the moment.  It's rare and it shouldn't be.

I thought about it all week.          

God’s choir is at its most robust when men and women are living in the fullness of God’s calling.  And that means we lead according to our gifts; so sometimes women lead and men echo and other times men lead and women echo. 

This is the witness of scripture.  Paul entrusted Phoebe to deliver (and likely read!) the letter to the Romans.  The church in Rome echoed.  12 men were called to serve alongside Jesus.  Men and women echoed.  Mary Magdalene was tasked with preaching the first sermon of the resurrection.  The (then) 11 echoed. The fullness of all voices leading—alto, tenor, soprano, bass—adds to the richness of the choir.

Leadership changes according to gifts and seasons, but when you’re only allowed to be the echo…it’s hard to imagine you can lead.  This week I heard a scholar say “you can’t imagine what you haven’t seen.”  Do girls see women leading at your church, or are they only allowed to be the echo?  Could there be little Annas and Lydias who don’t know God’s possibilities because you haven’t shown them?  Men, can you consider standing alongside us and insisting on this? 

I am grateful for the men and women who’ve helped me understand God’s call on my life.  That list is long, and I’m eager to encourage the next generation of ministers among us.

Privileged to help lead this Uptick cohort of women leading our churches and nonprofits.