Letter to my Future Self 1/11/11

Dear Katie,

At the time this letter was written you were at work drinking your second cup of tea attempting to get motivated. Shame on you. A lot of things are going on right now. You and Nathan are helping plant a church. You’re gathering with a bunch of rag-tag misfits who have no idea what this looks like. You have a job you love and a community of brothers and sisters spread far and wide who support and love you.

However, I’ve noticed lately that you are gripping pretty tight. Your desire to control every circumstance of your life is inhibiting you from experiencing some of our Savior’s greatest gifts. I know you don’t take kindly to unsolicited advice but hear me when I say, “knock it off” you’re really cramping our style. You have so much to be thankful for. You and Nathan have jobs which allow you the financial freedom to have a warm home and running cars and plenty of delicious food on the table. Who cares if you can’t go on the trip you wanted to because something had to be repaired? Comparatively speaking you have nothing to complain about.

I don’t know where you’ll be when you read this again. Maybe it will be tomorrow or maybe it will be 5 years from now. When you do please, please remember these things. Don’t forget what surrender looks like. Don’t forget what it looked like on that clear spring day in your dorm room. Don’t forget what it looked like on the foggy drive home from camp, or August 1, 2008. Please don’t forget what it looked like this morning when you remembered what Christ can do with a broken spirit and a contrite heart. Remember His faithfulness in commissioning a group of people without a clue to do immeasurably more than anything you could have imagined. Remember the people He has used to crush you and remember the ones He sent to help restore. There may be time in which you are called to one or both of those positions, be diligent in either role. Fight the urge to view any insecurity you might be feeling as bigger than what you know to be true.  Fight the urge to control everything, and surrender. You are not your own. Remember that.


Love, 
Katie

Tea Time with Charles

We sit, most days in the afternoon sipping the hot concoction I’ve brewed in my fancy tea contraption. I like all kinds of tea, Snow monkey plum, Madagascar vanilla, Indian chai, cream caramel rooibos, but Charles prefers just green (with a packet of Splenda). He always tries my brews and comments on their deliciousness although sometimes I can tell he is just being polite. We talk about all sorts of things, Charles and I. We talk about the news, his friends, my friends, his wife, my husband, the sermons we have been listening to and any other thing that comes to mind. He shares tidbits of wisdom from the nearly half a century he has up on me. That’s right, he is 72 and I am 23. Some days it feels like we are the same age making mischief and giggling (our banter is quite hilarious), needing to be scolded by our manager, and some days he is much older and reminiscent of my grandfather. I’d like to think I soak up our time as if each memory and anecdote shared were rare and precious. I can feel my eyes widen and my mouth drop whenever he starts a story with “when I worked at NASA.” I think it’s so cool. 

Sometimes he blows me away with the information he possesses and I relish the opportunity to teach him a new trick on the computer. He calls me “baby” which I’ve grown quite fond of and speaks tenderly when he sees that I’m upset. Occasionally he has been the reason for my discomfort based on things he has said to sharpen me; things that I foolishly brush aside with my defensive, harsh attitude.

Every once in awhile he gives me a big hug, which is inappropriate in the business world, but Charles doesn’t care. Yesterday was one of those days. It was nearing 4:30 and I walked over to say goodnight to Charles (he laughs every time I call him that because he has always been known as Chuck.) I turn to leave and he says “you know I haven’t always been known as Chuck either.” I replied with an inquisitive, “really?” excited for a story. He proceeded to tell me how he was really Charles Jr. which his mother detested so he went by his middle name Leonard which eventually got shorted to Lynn. I laughed at the idea of him being called Leonard and Lynn. We both put on our coats and he started to walk me out to my car. As we were walking he whispered, “And once I had a nickname that I sometimes use for passwords… Chucklynn.” We both chuckled at the idea. He then grew solemn and continued with a story about the only person that ever referred to him as Chucklin’. His story was sad. This friend (whom he worked with at NASA) was full of life and energy in his early forties when one day they found out he had bone cancer and two weeks later he was gone. I hung my head in sadness and Chuck continued, “No one else has ever called me that but it would be okay if you did.” As I sorted through the emotions of that statement I looked up to see two big tears unashamedly running down Charles’ face and he gave me a big hug. We parted with goodnights and this morning I returned to work as usual. I was greeted with a warm hello from Charles who I greeted back with a “Good morning Chucklin” and a wink. This afternoon we will have tea and I can hardly wait.