The Finest Little Space

The Stems of Still Grace

I am in a quiet house.  ALONE.

It’s a funny thing… this alone-ness.  In actuality Daisy (my dog) is here and two cats (whom I am allergic to) are present whom are quite skittish. I have a newly remodled bouquet of flowers in front of the huge windows that overlook a massive back yard, and of course, the obvious:  I am never alone, really.  

Today, after picking up my recording console and a microphone stand from my storage unit, and after geting lost in the most wonderful way, I found myself overlooking the entire city from a vista I had no idea existed.  From every point there were the wonderful buildings of downtown, clear views of the Willamette River, and 3 volcanoes could be easily seen from where I looked.  I continued the staggeringly slow drive home.  Not sure of which direction to go but nearly sure I was unnecessarily headed into the state of Washington.  I finally succumbed to how lost I had become and that I was no longer high enough in the hills for moments by which to capture unprecedented beauty.  I pulled my phone out and mapped my journey back to the house where I am pet sitting for the next two weeks.    I placed some things I’d picked up from my storage unit down after dropping off Anne (the woman I am house sitting for) at the Portland airport.  Murphy, the large black lab panicked that I had not arrived with his figurative mother.  But a family that he considered a second home were on their ways to pick him up, and so he soon found himself very happy.  In the mean time he kept placing his paws on the kitchen counter and looking for her car in the place where mine was parked.  The poor guy would look at me and whine.  I did my best to comfort him in his distress but I was of no use.  

After the family had come and gone I looked out into the unbelievably sunny, February sky from the wide windows that overlooked a very dense and sizable back yard.  I pulled some furniture into new places and made myself a writing nook to spend the next 2 weeks.  As I sat in the sun, soaking in as much vitamin E as I could muster, I realized that today is my first day without another person’s presence in my daily existence.  Not a person in my living space, in my very near comfort zones, no one that I need to communicate with or answer to or for.  I haven’t been in a house by myself in months.   Upon realizing this feat I made myself cibbata with bleu cheese drenched in honey, arrugula, and pear toast.  It’s my favorite lunch time meal.  I got a strong cup of coffee going and sat down to write and read. 

I don’t think I was very successful.  Mostly I just sat in the sun with my eyes closed and admired the sun.  I wrote down a very little.  I read hardly a word.  But at one point God said, “I have things to say to you,” and so I got my pen and paper handy, prayed that he would help to silence me, as I was very very noisy at the time.  I felt a stillness immediately come.  And I heard, “I am with you always.  Even to the end of the age,” and “Give me your dreams.  I would like to answer them.”  I realized that I have been doing a lot of dreaming now that music is picking up it’s own momentum.  I prayed about a songwriter’s month that I do every year.  I prayed for more practical needs for the next season.  I also told God that I don’t care what happens really, as long as he is close, and I brought the word “ALONE” to God.  

For a few months at least, it’s been a word that says deep things in me every time I say it.  It is the kind of word that resonates in every fibre of who I am.  I feel it in my arms some times when I say it.  And so it has become a sort of battle.  Me against this word, or idea.  This thing, a spear, a weapon formed against me.  The word “alone” and the connotations it holds.  The phrase, “By-my-self,” carries a similar weight for me.  And it’s rooted in things that I have picked up over my years of being.  Phrases like, “I have always gone to church by my self,” or “I was just so tired of doing music ALONE.”  Or even, and it grieves me to admit that this phrase exists in my vocabulary as a place of wounded-ness: “It’s always been just me and God.”  I don’t know the answers to how to unlearn these phrases and the pain that they present when I even think of them.  But I think that’s what this month of preparation and rest is about.

As I get ready for this tour I am bringing these phrases to the Father to ask him for change and I expect it.  Not for change in the alone-ness per-se.  I am actually really enjoying this season.  Even when I have been totally surrounded by people it has still been me and God going through one of the most beautiful seasons of my life.  I know that’s not going to change.  I know in my head that the blessing of the intimacy of relationship with God is that, in truth, no matter who I am with, if we are in a good place, God is the forefront.  He is the one I am the MOST WITH.  I suspect that this never changes.

Part of the root must be somehow equal parts envy and healthy desire, it seems.  I envy families who go to church together, I envy women with husbands, and old women with children who have already weathered the hardship of adolescence and grown close as a result.  I have gone out of my way to create family relationships in my closest friendships, and I think I have succeeded well, I believe.  But there is still this thing in me that didn’t used to be there, that says it’s not enough.  That there’s more than this.  And it’s a deep place in my heart.  I give that desire and feeling over to God every day.  Music as a desire feels very similar for me but it feels more healthy and hardly ever tied to envy.  So perhaps this is just a natural desire that God has placed in my heart and change to this state of alone-ness is coming soon.  And even as I type those words, I think there’s truth there.  

But for these weeks.  I will sit in the Presence and enjoy it.  Because he is SO CLOSE and so freaking good.  

And I am not truly alone.

The Miracles Of Multnomah, The Wonders of the Willamette

Last night I found myself pulling over to the side of MLK Blvd., just off East Burnside.  Compelled by the giant flakes of snow and the glistening streetlights brightening the world by the fluffy layers of white in every direction.  I couldn’t resist the opportunity to play.  For about 30 minutes I had been driving down the road from a delicious Mexican restaurant (Oh Dear God!  Real Mexican Food!  Finally!  Thank you!) and feeling envious of all the 20 and 30 somethings running through the streets at midnight, throwing snowballs at my car passing slowly by, young couples holding hands or snuggling under the covered bus stops along the street.  I pulled over, prepared my self for the cold, and took off into the night, with the only goal of crossing the Burnside Bridge, turning around, crossing it again, and driving away.  So many times at night I have had the unbelievable desire to cross those bridges and hang my head over the water, watching the blue and green lights of ships passing underneath.  However, I am a female.  Portland is one of the drug and homeless capitols of the U.S.  Practically, it’s not safe to do.  But with the city out in full wonderment and the night sky lit up by the reflection of snow from the ground, I felt confident of my safety and everyone else’s distraction by the whimsey of giant flakes easing their way onto the noses of everyone in the city.  I walked.  I skipped.  I stopped and wrote on the banister of the bridge in snow.  I tilted my head into the flakes and watched them land on my face.  I didn’t notice how cold it was.  It was incredible.  It reminded me of walking at 3 a.m. in Scotland.  Down Leith Walk from Princess Street.  I would marvel at the fact that I was actually living in Edinburgh.  200-1000 year old buildings towering around me in every direction.  This was much the same feeling.  

As I walked across the bridge a car, being propelled up the slope of the icy bridge by two young men behind it, slowly tobogganing up the hill and back down again.  I looked over and smiled.  They laughed and greeted me, remarking on the glorious evening.  I could not disagree.  I arrived in the heart of downtown and made my U-Turn.  A lost 21 or 22 year old boy asked me if I knew where the Greyhound Station was.  He carried a small vintage suitcase.  I didn’t know where it was but I connected him with some men my age to help him get to it.  I turned around and made my way back across the bridge.  A young couple greeted me on the bridge.  I stopped to look at the water.  I wished my camera was working.  I crossed the street.  Three grown-ass-men asked me if I wanted to snow ball fight with them and then they took off running across the bridge.  The kind of run that lets you know that their inner 8 year old is the one in control.  It was beautiful.  And as I made my way to the car I breathed deeply.  A free, deep, unselfconscious breath.  It filled my lungs and then I got into my car.  The first order of the moment to thaw out my feet.  

The rest of the drive was gorgeous and slow.  My Toyota Camry with my dads “If you can read this, you’re keeping up with the Jones’s” vanity plate around the license.  I swerved.  I fish tailed a bit.  I was one of the only vehicles on a street filled with pedestrians who were not going to be affected by the car careening at them at a whopping 3 miles an hour and the only time it looked like I might have to ditch the car and figure out if I could call someone to pick me up (on the way up a not very steep hill) 2 men, my age, were walking by and just gave me that extra push up the 20 feet of asphalt and into smooth sailing for the rest of my journey home.  

It was wonderful.  And it brings me here.  

It’s too bad that I haven’t been faithful in my blogging.  Though the stark nature of my last blog gives a very true account to what each week has often looked like.  I think I have perhaps turned a corner and life in Portland is looking much different than I expected it too.  But somehow, it looks exactly the same.

In the last 10 days God has done huge things.  Ten days ago I was down to my last $3.00 and $17.00 overdrawn.  It looked like my unemployment insurance was not going to begin paying out because of a technicality that I couldn’t suss out due to the Unemployment Office phones being busy all hours of the day.  I have been waiting for the check from that job where I had the insane boss (that’s right, had, they closed unexpectedly.  Not paying me for the last 3 weeks of work).  But that check is being provided through a law suit of sorts and so I have been waiting for the technicalities of that to get sorted out as well.  I was applying for job interview after job interview.  The great interviews I was having were strangely going nowhere.  I would sit down with a potential employer, really hit it off, talk for a couple of hours, and then find out they’d decided to go in “another direction.”  So I was exhausted from job hunting, frustrated by external financial provisions that were supposed to be making their way to me, and trying to figure out what in the world was going on.  All the while believing God had said that things were about to change in a really big way.  

The following two days I received 3 donations.  One from my church and 2 from friends who said God had put a specific amount on their hearts to give to me.  I tried and failed to talk my friends out of it.  Explaining that telling them that my church had just given some money and it should get me through the week.  They donated anyway.  The amazing thing about their hearts was that I was able to relax from worrying about my finances and really really listen to God.  What I heard him say was a total shock.

I won’t go into the exact words but it was a lot of information.  Really heavy information about music.  Things like “It’s going to be a big year for your professionally,” but the most surprising one was, “I don’t want you to rent.”  I knew what he meant.  He was talking about housing.  I wasn’t supposed to rent an apartment.  I began to feel like, though I had no shows booked yet, that I was leaving on tour very soon.  And as I brought that up to my friends what they heard God say was that if this was all true I was supposed to spend the next season in rest before this fabled tour started.  

I continued to stress out about work for the next week.  I paid my bills.  I tried to write.  I discounted what I had thought I’d heard God say the previous week as fantasy, my own desires trumping God’s voice.  I let “the responsible adult” in me tell me what I should be doing.  She wasn’t very nice.  I prayed about what this “tour” was supposed to look like.  And then, without my so much as lifting a finger, 2 shows booked in Fresno, and a couple shows in the LA area, a southwest tour, I heard myself realize I was going to be at SxSw (a very important music festival to be at if you are going to release an album that year), some more shows in Portland, and Central California.  I stared in sort of stunned disbelief that all this had happened so suddenly, with so much order, and then went to sleep.

It was after one of a couple interviews that week the following Friday, that I felt something just break in me when I got to my car.  I mean, I had a picture in my mind when it happened of a large stone cracking in half and falling over.  I stared out beyond the grey shipping structure where I had just tried to gain employment (another one of those promising conversations that by the end I knew would come to nothing).  And then a funny thing happened.  I burst into tears.  And I had no idea why.

I went to the Maes house (where I have been staying these last months in Portland).  I walked to my bistro table upstairs to write and try to sort out what had just happened in me.  My friend Danielle came up the stairs and asked me what was going on.  I burst into tears again.  While I talked to her I realized that all I had thought I had heard God say was true.  That I wasn’t supposed to get a job right now either because I only had a month and a half to get everything together before I left.  Between the lawsuit from my last job and my tax return I should be just about fine, financially.  BUT most importantly, I realized that I was crying because God was healing me.  Things were falling off.  I was watching all the hang-ups I’d built in Nashville fall off, crumbling into dust.  And God said, “I will give you a place to stay, rest, and a place to write music before you leave.”  I believed that if it was God saying this that it would happen, though I had no idea how.  This is where the story gets freakishly familiar:

A couple of days later I got a phone call from a friend saying that she’d mentioned to a few people that I had moved to Portland, was tired, needed a place to stay, and had no way to pay for it.  An older woman contacted Tessa (this friend) and told her that she couldn’t get me out of her mind.  That I had been put on her heart and that she wanted to meet me and let me stay in her home.  This woman, Anne, offered me her home today.  I am to house sit for 10 days.  But mostly, she is offering her home for me to just rest before the tour.  How GLORIOUS is will be to sleep on a BED!!  When I met Anne, a beautiful older woman, elegantly dressed, poised, and with so much peace.  She reminded me of a dear woman to me, Diane Kilmer, which made me like her immediately.  She mentioned that she could tell that I was deeply tired as she talked to me.  That this was obviously important.  She was kind.  She was motherly.  She had obviously let her self be softened by good and hard times.  She had obviously weathered some storms and herself had turned into a calm sea in the process.  And so, on Thursday, my dog will meet her dog, and if all goes well, I’ll be moving in for a month-ish.  And sleeping.  Oh how I will sleep.  

It made me realize that I have not done much unpacking of my journey since it started.  For the last 9 months I have been in an unending transition.  And I don’t really know how that transition is going to come to a close.  But I think this month is going to be really great.  I have some new views about music careers that I think will help.  Like this one, “I have no idea how long this season of making music professionally will last.  So I might as well enjoy all of it.  It’s all an adventure.  Whether it’s hard or it’s easy, whether it’s in a surplus or a famine.  It’s an adventure.  I don’t know how long I will be alive much less, how long my voice will last or if I will ever get to make another full-length album.  I am going to freaking enjoy this season.  It’s the only direction God has given me.  And this career really is up to him.  I am over trying to maneuver my way into greater heights of vague and exhausting goals.  I am just going to hold God’s hand.”

So, that’s where things are today.  And it sums up Portland thus far in a pretty nut-shell.  A snow covered wonderland, filled with child like artists, type nut-shell.

Oh No… My New Boss Is Insane.

The story begins simply enough.  A girl in a new city begins looking for a job as she watches her bank account deplete into oblivion.  She is diligent in going to interview after interview and is praying for favor and providence.  She knows she is qualified and often over qualified for the jobs she is applying for and just needs someone else to see her talent and her experience.  She has even printed three seperate resumes for three seperate skill sets on three seperate colors of paper.  20 copies per color / type:  Blue for administrative because it seems calm and relaxing, lavender for waitress-ing because it reminds her of frosting and delicious deserts, and a very light pink for retail because it seems like a color with a little more energy, a color that’s quick on it’s feet in the face of a customer’s need.  

This girl’s hard work and diligence paid off relatively quickly (3 weeks of hard job hunting) for the economic instability of the city she lives in and the track record of other recent transplants.  She begins to hear proclimations like, “Wow, you’ve only been here 3 weeks and you already found a job?  That’s really fast for this town.  Congratulations,” relatively frequently.  

Then she begins to try to get a hold of her prospective employer.  He is only ever harried when he speaks with her on the phone.  He says things like, “Oh.  Hi Kat.  Yeah, I really want to talk to you.  Super busy right now.  I will call you back.”  Out of courtesy she waits until the next day to call HIM back when he does not return her phone call and her friends change their tone to, “Are you sure you want to work for this guy?  He seems a bit unstable.”  The girl agrees but she hopes.  She hopes against hope that he is merely overwhelmed.  She has peace that God has said this new employer will call her soon and that she will have an income before her account is completely depleted.  She has a few more good interviews but doesn’t get a call back from them (a reality that still puzzles her) and then the harried employer (we will call him Richard for these purposes) calls and sets up a second interview with the co-owner of the restaurant.  He explains that he would like me to start booking shows for the restaurant to bring in a late night crowd.  The girl is excited.  She looks forward to using one of her primary skill sets (music) in conjunction with a secondary skill set (waitress-ing).

The girl, in many ways, has moved to this city for music and is dazzled by the idea of getting to have a foot up in the local music scene already.  This will be a great way to connect with people and to get to see local music she really enjoys at the same time.  She used to be a partner in a company in her hometown that was valued at half a million dollars at one point.  She has been booking shows semi-professionally to professionally for 12 years.  This is a great idea.  Or, rather, it’s a great idea on paper.

The first few meetings with her employers go well.  They take notes, they listen to her ideas & they chime in their own thoughts.  Richard wants to go out and have this girl meet her musician friends.  They go out later one night to a beautiful theater where his friends are playing.  The music is okay.  It’s listen-able.  Some people will like it.  It’s not the girl’s preference for what should be playing in the restaurant but the owner is overjoyed by the idea of having them play and so she agrees.  The musicians are kind. They go grab a beer and talk about life.  It seems to be going well.  But the girl has a reservation and can not move forward until 1 thing is taken care of… the restaurant has no PA system and Richard wants to borrow one.  She also starts to realize that Richard wants to hang out all the time for “business” purposes but expects that the girl won’t need to be paid for these outings.  There are now red flags everywhere.

Now, what seems like a small issue, becomes a huge issue.  The girl starts to realize that Richard is expects these things to just sort of work out.  He expects his friends to loan their $2,000.00 sound system to him indefinitely and without reservation.  He expects the girl to book shows immediately on the promise that there will be a sound system present even though he hasn’t even asked his friends if he could borrow it and when the other co-owner (we will call her Jane) picks up the ball and asks these people, who are also her friends, when they will be dropping off the system (because Richard is acting like he’s already spoken to these people) they have no idea of what she’s speaking of.  They even sound annoyed.  They call Richard.  Richard is furious and sends abusive texts to Jane.  Jane shows them to the girl.  The girl starts to realize she is being placed square in the middle of 10 years of intense baggage.  She tries to keep things professional but both employers are now using her as a sounding board of abusive words toward the other.  

The girl is now looking for a second job.

Arrival. Survival. Surrender.

Of course, it’s raining outside.  I sit right now in Albina Press, a coffee shop just off Hawthorne (thanks Nathan Pohnert), watching umbrellas walk by one after another.  I have been sitting here for 3 or so hours.  Trying to put my brain around things like work and living and not getting distracted by Facebook.  I am also trying to decide whether or not paying $15 to see The Dum Dum Girls at The Doug Fir is a justifiable expense if, a) I am going to have to leave my dog in the car while I am there (poor thing is sitting there now) and b) I am missing my friends aerial performance at The Glow Show in Nashville, which is bumming me out a little bit  c)  I do not have a job yet.  I don’t know what the answer is to be perfectly honest.  But if I search my heart I think I want to hole myself up in the tiny bedroom I am sleeping in this week and see what I have missed of The Office.

I have been in Portland only 6 days.  I arrived the day following a show in Camas, WA and a stay in Vancouver, after a ton of stress over where I would be sleeping that night.  God was very careful and deliberate in letting me know that Sunday was my “first day in Portland.”  I am sure that after that stressful arrival he wanted me to know that he had a plan for me and a place for me to sleep if I needed one.  I arrived to tons of hugs and kisses from The Garner Family.  Who are my family away from family and have been for years.  I have been friends with and mentoring their daughter for about 3 or so years and we have a very special relationship and her older brother Ryan, has been one of my best friends for about 5 or 6 years.  It’s nice to see that God has built such deliberate relationships in my life.  This is the house I have been allowed to stay in with my dog, Daisy this week and it’s so nice to be around this family and be close to them again.

Monday I wondered around the city a little like a lost puppy.  Looking for a place to live, trying to connect with people.  I got a text from a friend of a few friends, Heather Penzel, asking me to go to worship and Bible study with her in the Hawthorne district.  I showed up, they accepted me and my dog with deep love, my friend Ben Michel (who I wasn’t sure how to get a hold of) walked through the door, and I found myself in a beautiful time of worship and intercession for the city of Portland with some people who clearly love each other and are passionately in love with God.

Tuesday was more searching for a place to live, updating my resume, trying to feel out what God is doing as far as employment is considered and hanging out with friends and family.  I got to say goodbye to Tyler Hentschell (who was the other artist on the tour which helped pay our root out to the west coast).

Wednesday was more of the same, followed by a pedicure as my feet were really hurting from all the traveling and moving boxes, rushing around, trying to get things done in Nashville by the time I left.  It was an inexpensive treat to myself for completing the long journey out here.  I then went to a church called Door of Hope where they were doing this thing called Seven (which is a city wide time of prayer for the people of Portland).  Seven says of fasting on Wednesdays, over seven weeks, in partnership with the churches in the city.  It’s so incredible to see the churches in the city pray for unity and revival in the city.  It was really beautiful.  I also ran into more people that I knew here, which was fun.

Thursday was more of the same.  And Friday I got to meet with my friend Danielle Maes and talk with her about some of her struggles and hopes.  I am probably staying with her family next week and I really look forward to getting to know her better.

So:  How’s Portland, Kat?

PORTLAND IS AMAZING.  My heart just feels so excited to be here.  It’s really a blessing to be here.  It feels like a really good fit.  I feel relaxed.  I feel myself.  I feel excited about the future.  I feel free and unfettered.  I miss my friends and my community in Nashville, and I am sad that I am not around for what the art co-op I have been helping out with in Nashville ( http://www.abrasivemedia.org ) is doing now that we’ve had our official kick off.  But it’s really nice to be here.  It’s lovely to be back on the west coast and I am looking forward to what God has in store.  

Things you can pray about:

-I need a job.  But really, not just any job.  I feel like God is saying that I am going to need something that is super flexible with the life he has for me here, both touring and helping with the church plant, mentoring believers and encouraging my friends.

-I need a place to live.  More of the same.  Low enough rent that I don’t have to work all the time but am able to facilitate what God is calling me into:  Which is not quite visible yet.  The only actual vision I have is that he’s going to be having me travel a lot and I assume, as I have a new album coming out next year and possibly a new booking agent, that I am going to be on tour a bunch.  

- Vision.  Relationships that are deep and close, and relationships that sharpen as far as my faith in God are considered,  but also relationships that are artistically deepening, challenging, and strengthening.  I am also praying that God reveals a music scene to fall into and reveals what my place is with the Anchor church plant that I have moved here to help.  

I have a lot more to say that would be more artfully expressed but my existing physical needs are keeping me on the left side of my brain and therefore, essentially, shutting out the artistic side.  Not bad for where I need to be.  But I’d like to see the Kat that I know sooner, rather than later.

The great news is that I am totally surrendered to this season.  God has been so present.  I am exhausted but he is definitely here walking me through this time.  I have no apprehension of anything at all.  I am just immensely aware of my need :-)

I love you all!

kat

The Will and the Wonder

I am not sure where to begin.  The last 5 weeks have been a blur of me moving from house sitting to house sitting job.  I began to feel it in every part of me and see the fatigue on my face.  My time and energy for my friends became very limited and so I began to pray for a more solid living situation as I prepared to leave and wanted to have all of my self available for my friends as the move to Portland approached.  As I prayed this I heard God’s voice and his peace settle on my mind with a smile.

“I have a place set aside for you,” he said.

This was one of those moments where the belief of that was so strong that it made no logical sense at all.  That peace that passes unbelief.  That knowing that surpasses any kind of rational logic, yet I knew it down to the very core of who I was.  I love that God generates that kind of knowing in his children.  It’s not always present when we feel like it should be, or some times we shrug it off as, “That’s impossible.  How could I possibly know that?” and so we miss the point entirely.  But what I am driving at is this:  I believed him implicitly.

A few days later I got this call, “Hi Kat.  You don’t know me.  I am best friend’s with an acquaintance of yours from the Family Wash, Wendy.  Anyways, she said that you were displaced right now and I had a proposition for you.  My husband is an audio engineer for ——INSERT HUGE FEMALE COUNTRY SINGER’S NAME HERE WHO I REALLY LOOK UP TO—— and he’s going to be on tour with her for the next 2 months.  We live in a really big restored victorian mansion and I don’t want to be here all by myself, so I was hoping you’d be willing to stay in our home with me rent free.  Obviously my mouth was hanging wide open.  I expected that maybe one of my friends would call me and offer something to me.  Instead… this phone call was present.  I went and saw the house, met with the woman who owned it, finished house sitting for a good friend, and then moved in.  I am writing to you now from one of 2 10 person banquet tables well situated in their huge home that I would not be surprised to discover was riddled with secret passageways and a discreet tower to hide the Baudelaire children in while Count Olaf tried to scheme up a way to obtain their fortune.   

Something else amazing happened on the tail end of moving in.  A woman approached me and offered to give me the money to get out of debt and recover from the flood damage I was still struggling with since the Nashville Flood took out 2 very expensive but very necessary guitar cases and my electric guitar.  I have been borrowing my guitar player’s Gretch for the last year.  He has been gracious in his letting me borrow it but to be honest I have felt quite bad about the fact that he’s hardly had the opportunity to play it since the flood.  This was incredible because God told me that he would get me out of debt as I had no way of paying it.   I have begun the blessed headache of calling a credit card company with whom I maxed out my card because of having to deal with time off for funerals and other issues with my father’s debt in general.  And Washington Mutual (now there’s a headache) as I apparently owe them money somehow from their bank foreclosure.  Trying to clear that mess up in a big way.  I also had my old music manager cancel my debt to him with the provision that I pay for his vacation to visit me once I got settled in.  Deal.  Thanks Eric!!!

I haven’t seen this level of God’s provision in my life for years.  It’s one of the reasons why I had been so frustrated living in Nashville.  It was like I was interacting with a God who’d recently had a stroke and was not interacting with me the way I was used to.  I was wondering if all those ways I had seen his hand in the past were a thing of the past and maybe I needed to get used to a different way of communicating and interacting with him.  But it is so wonderful to see his hand again.  And how grateful am I that he wouldn’t let me rent a home when I was looking for it?  I never would have had the opportunity to walk into this season that I am totally in love with!  My shower is awesome, by bed is awesome, the room I am sleeping in is awesomely quiet (I am a ridiculously light sleeper), and I am living in such an inspiring house right now!  God is so good and it’s so wonderful to witness the miracles of his goodness and love right now.

Now, in all of this I am running up against one big thing:  I am actually terrified to move.  I am grieving both leaving my friends and am pretty terrified of moving into Portland, finding a job, a place to live, and finding my place in the city physically and spiritually.  I could use some prayer in those areas.  But I am so happy to have the opportunity to tell you guys about everything that’s going on.  I hope these letters encourage you and your life.

Catherine S. Jones

5 1/2 Years Ago Has It’s Shadows Over Today

The day I decided to move to Nashville is a blur.  The only actual event I remember was me living in Fresno, having had a big argument with my then ex-boyfriend (who was and still is living in Nashville) that somehow compelled me to move to Nashville.

In my defense I’d been praying about moving for 15 years to that date and it seemed like being in a long distance relationship wasn’t making any sense any longer.  It was either, break up and don’t move to Nashville at all, or see if this relationship actually worked.  The end of that story is apparent and obvious (It didn’t work at all actually).  But there was one event that sort of pushed me over the edge on whether or not to move.  I was in my car, praying about what I should do about the move, and getting ready to go into work at Tower Records and organize something or other, when Anne Marie Tucker (a sort of Nashville celebrity in her own right) called me to ask if I was thinking about moving because they had a roommate moving out and needed to replace her right away.  

“Huh…  Yeah, I guess I was just praying about that.  Sure.  I’d be happy to move in with you guys,” was my response.

This was a huge leap of faith for me.  Up to that point my ventures out of my parents’ house were marked by a six month stint in an apartment with my then best friend, moving to and living in Scotland for a year, and touring my head off.  I was 27 and it was time to move out of the nest officially and move on to the next phase of my life.  Not even my father’s recent stroke could convince me that this wasn’t the right time.  I made my plans, raised $5,000.00, booked a tour to help pay for the move, grabbed Aspen Hollow as the opening act, and had arrived in my new home in Nashville within 2 months of this new epiphany.

Actually, Jeniffer Lee Dake, who was my other roommate in this new house in Nashville, was a great encouragement to me after my father passed away 1 month into my new life in the city.  She prayed for me and encouraged me and I don’t know what would have happened to me had it not been for her support in those painful months after my father’s death.  Both of those relationships are invaluable to me.  

Confirmation of this move to Portland has come in many different ways and it has been beautiful to watch unfold.  I sent my friend Ryan Garner a text with the message, “So…… I have news.”  He called me within a minute and said, “Oh my gosh!  You’re moving to Portland!!!”  I confirmed his exclamation and he followed by saying, “Kat, I have known you were supposed to be here for years.  It’s time for you to come home.”  Actually, almost everyone I have interacted with from the Northwest has announced to me that it was “time to come home,” I had not even petitioned anyone for it and I have raised $400 of an $8,000.00 goal I have set for myself for the move.  Music has begun to make more sense and my church here, The Anchor, is releasing me to become a part of a church plant in Portland that Anchor Missions USA is setting up.  I am looking forward to all of this.  I was praying for a place to stay temporarily and heard God say very clearly, “I have a place set aside for you.”  I just got a call from a near stranger today asking me to move in to a house in Nashville for the next 2 months rent free.  I would have my own room and I wouldn’t have to move around anymore, which was becoming very emotionally and physically taxing.  What is incredible about this to me is that my time will be up at this house 2 days after Ann Marie Tucker gets married to her fiance Colin and that my other roommate Jeniffer Lee Dake is getting married the month previous.  I will be in town to watch the story close completely on my life and watch those two roommates embark on a new season in their lives here and then embark on my own new journey.  

I am waiting for the rest to unfold.  What of this life in Portland?  What about this fund raising so that I can close this chapter in Nashville and move onto the next season?  I am excited to see what God is going to do and I couldn’t be more excited that he’s entrusting me to follow him in these wonderfully bizarre ways.  More to come tomorrow.  

‘Till the Next,

Catherine S. Jones

Hitting The Ground Running Towards PDX

It’s hard to believe that 2 weeks have passed since I was stunned by the realization that my homelessness was meant as a sort of momentum towards a new life. Shortly after I finished my last blog entry I began to pack my suitcases for the sake of mobility.  I stood over my huge black bag, scratching my head and wondering what should go where - “Where did those boys put my moisturizer and my shampoo?”  ”Did I leave my cookbooks at my old house?”  ”Would my time be better spent looking for a new home right now?”  ”God, what do you have in store for this week?”  - Daisy was staring at my anxious packing when my phone signaled to me that I had recieved a text.  It was from my good friend and former booking agent, Nate Allen.

Nate: Hey. How are you?

Kat: Interestingly enough I am newly homeless. Packing right now so it’s a little easier to get around.

Nate: Come up to Cornerstone and guitar tech for me.  I can get you in for free.

Kat:  I will see you there tomorrow.

Now, it should be said that Nate and his wife Tessa are two of my closest and longest friends in the world.  Literally… I met Nate in a remote village in Nepal.  Only later, upon reuniting at a music festival did we become friends and very shortly after that he was my booking agent, sending me on tours all over the US to support the records I had released on Velvet Blue Music.  He and Tessa now make up the interactive punk rock duo, Destroy Nate Allen.  But when Nate comes up with a crazy idea and directs it towards me I jump at it.  He is the sort of man who trusts God’s hand and functions in the most wonderful extreams.  My last text from him read:  ”Hey, our van broke down and we leave on tour tomorrow.  Everybody pray.”  I knew it would work out.  Praying about it was easy and sounded more like, “Yeah, I know you’re going to do provide for them so I just agree with everyone else who is praying.”  Their community had pulled together to buy them a new van and they were out on the road by the next morning.  

Long story short.  I trust Nate and I trust that he hears God’s voice.  The festival was fun.  The most fun I have ever had there actually.  I ended up playing for some friends who hadn’t seen me play in a long time and guitar teched for nate (who was playing in the center of 5,000 people under a hot tent.  It was hillarious.  Mostly I was trying to shove my way through the mass of people saying, “Excuse me.  I’m the guitar tech.”  ”Excuse me.  I have something that Nate needs.”  ”Excuse me.  I need to get to Nate.” 

After the show I put their equipment away and pulled Tessa aside to let her know that I would really like to hang out with the two of them before I left as I drove up to see them in the first place (we were all wrapped up in our performances).  I said the same thing to my good friend Bobby, whom some time ago left for Kentuky from Nashville to pursue a new chapter in his life and the next day we were in a small diner, just minutes from the festival, catching up over tuna melts and french fries.  

We shared some deep and powerful conversations and decided to end our time in prayer, which is usually how my time with Nate closes.  Bobby turned to Nate and Tessa to tell them an impression he felt he was getting from God about their music careers and then looked at me and said and for you, “Portland.”  I burst into tears.  I had not realized that I wanted to move out of Nashville until he said those words to me.  It was one of those moments that made my life make sense.  I spent the next week processing and praying about the information and by the end of it I had made my decision.

I AM MAKING MY WAY TO PORTLAND, OREGON AT THE BEGINNING OF SEPTEMBER.  (BUT DON’T ADVERTISE THIS NEWS YET.  I STILL HAVE TO TELL MY BOSS… WHICH IS GOING TO BE A LITTLE WHILE SO AS NOT TO STRESS HIM OUT)  I WILL LET YOU KNOW WHEN THIS NEWS IS PUBLIC.  I.E. ONLY PRIVATE MESSAGE ME ABOUT THIS UNTIL I SAY OTHERWISE, PRETTY PLEASE :-)

So there you are.  You are now one of the few people in the know.  I will post more about it in the coming week so that you know how to be praying.  Thank you everyone for your love and support!!!

‘Til The Next,

Catherine S. Jones

“Wheresoever You Go, Go With All Your Heart, ” Says Confucius. Homeless & Secure.

Homelessness was thrust upon me and came to myself, and my friends, as an utter surprise.  Very suddenly, I had my things in boxes, 4 strong male friends with enough “That’s what she said,” jokes to make a whore blush, and a U-Haul to throw what didn’t need to be temperature controlled into a very tight garage.  

This, this state of being without home, did not come without a very strong rally in opposition to it before it was thrust upon me.  I had been flooded out of my previous home, and moved into a very cheep and very temporary living situation with a girl 10 years younger than me, who was about to get married.  I moved in, never really unpacked except to get my art out of boxes and onto the walls around the living room I would be inhabiting for 3 months, and enjoyed getting right side up again financially as the Great Nashville Flood knocked that out of whack enough to cause me to be upside down in the timing by which I wanted to get my bills paid.  I gave myself a month to tour the Northwest with my music and a good friend and a couple weeks to recover from both the move and the tour physically, and then started looking for a house and a roommate to move into.  To make a long story and the minor details of which even more minor for brevity’s sake, I did not find a place in the 2 solid months I was looking.  It came as an utter shock.  But as I didn’t want to sign a year long lease on something that was being forced on me I decided homelessness was the better option.  Though, in my heart of hearts, I really thought this was going to be the sort of 11:59 kind of answer to my prayers for a new dwelling place from God.  

It was.  But it was not the one I wanted.  

Presently I am sitting in the kitchen of one of my best friends, Bex; surrounded by the peace that accompanies this big jump that God has inspired.  I can feel it in my arms and in my stomach, my legs tingle with the joy of His presence.  This is exactly where I am supposed to be.

God has just, very quickly, untethered me from other comforts I had come to trust in.  It is apparent and obvious that this is true.  The very moment I came into this nomadic place my mind dropped all the insecurities I was clinging to and began to fill with the thoughts of His presence and his provision.  I don’t even know where I will be sleeping this evening (as Bex is arriving home later tonight) but I have peace that it’s going to work out and the willingness to get my bags packed in a way that will allow me to be very free to move about.

Hopefully someone will let me store my guitars in their home.  They have not yet found a place.  

All this new voyaging comes with one other snag.  My sweet dog Daisy.  She needs a place to stay as well.  But she is more than house trained and has the sweetest temperament of any dog I have ever met.  However, it brings into the mix that God is not just providing for ME in this process but for my dog as well, as he has made us a package and I am a responsible mother.  (of the dog.  I don’t have any kids).  

And so this blog begins with this new adventure.  I am homeless.  But I trust in Him. And I KNOW that He is using this to work some old junk and some new blessings out in me.  All I have to do is let him fill me.  

Isaiah 41:9 “I took you from the ends of the earth, from its farthest corners I called you.  I said ‘You are my servant; I have chosen you.  I have not rejected you.  So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God.  I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.”

‘Till The Next,

Catherine S. Jones