A couple years ago I had a group of women around our weathered, wooden table on our back porch for dinner. I love nights like these. I put the screen down to eliminate (most) bugs and leave the back sliding doors open to easily access the kitchen. The twinkle lights hang above to make everything feel warm, the brick pavers under our feet make everything feel cool and the herbs make it smell delicious even when the meal is over. I may be my absolute happiest with food, friends and soft lighting.
One thing I have come to love about women in settings like this is how we can flow effortlessly in conversation between heartbreaking topics like miscarriage and addiction to breezy items like morning routines and personal style. That night, we took turns attempting to describe our personal style in three words. Some of my favorites? Cool 80’s mom and cozy copy cat. The latter friend said, I want to be comfortable and usually I just look around and say, so is this what we’re doing now? Dying.
Earlier that day, though, my neighbor had said, Kristin, I feel like you have such a cool and chic California style. I might have awkwardly hugged her. I seem to do many awkward things around my neighbors, which is problematic because they live, you know, right there. Once on a run (back when I went for runs) I thanked my neighbor, Trinh, for all her gardening help and then blurted out, “I love you!” I ran a little faster after that premature profession of love. Back to the style. I think the awkward hug came from a deep, internal place of happiness because of one word. Not cool. Not chic. California.
I have always had a bit of a thing for California. When I played volleyball in college, we’d play at UCLA, USC, Cal and Stanford and I would be undone. I could not get over how Sydney lived walking/beach cruiser distance to the beach (as in the Pacific Ocean, people). I was mesmerized by the types of trees that grew in Palo Alto, and was obsessed with that misty, salty/sweet fog that hung over Cal in the morning. Nevertheless, I was an Illinois-raised, Arizona-college-studied, back to Illinois girl. Then, for some reason that can only be explained by the favor of God, I received an email from our now friend, Barry, who invited Austin and me to do ministry together in Santa Barbara. The mother ship of (what in the actual world?) California beauty.
When people ask where we moved to Austin from, Austin (the husband) always gives me a side-eye glance that seems to say tone it down before I have even spoken. He is under the impression that all the nice Texan people don’t need to know there is yet another California import who lives on their street, shops at their HEB, or is Californiaing their Texas. Too bad for him, I go on and on about how gloriously wonderful Santa Barbara was (and still is) to us.
As I write this to you, I am in California. Increasingly enchanted by the Coronado breezes and dances of majestic palm branches. It has been a full year since our kids have seen the ocean and after just twenty minutes of rolling up their pants, squealing and running from the white, foamy surf, both Remi and Rhodes have said, this is my favorite place in the world! I get it.
Austin and I celebrated fifteen years of marriage in October and decided Santa Barbara would be the perfect backdrop to honor all God has done and built among us. As we drove up and down the 101 through Carpinteria, Summerland, Montecito and Goleta, memories seemed to surface like a nostalgic chain reaction. I always forget how powerful place can be to recall the things otherwise forgotten. We were like little children. Remember that? Remember them? Remember when?
There are a thousand dreamy things about California, but the main reason my heart speeds up (and somehow slows down?) when I am here is because of the ocean. But why? Why do I love this vast, frightening, breathtaking body of water so much? In anticipation of an upcoming series our church is doing, I found myself reading through the book of Habakuk this week. Not a normal Bible destination for me, and a name that (when said fast enough) sounds like a sneeze, but a book that taught and reminded me why I love the ocean so much.
“For as the waters fill the sea, the earth will be filled with an awareness of the glory of the LORD.”
Habakuk 2:14
This promise is of something to come. Something certain. Something hope-producing. Reading it this week, I thought about how much water makes up the Pacific Ocean. According to Google, roughly 352,670,000,000,000,000 gallon-sized milk containers fill up this ‘sea.’ I have no idea how to even say that number. I am more of a words girl.
When you or I think of the ocean, chances are we think of water. In this Old Testament promise, the author is saying, one day, when we think of Earth, we will automatically think of the glory of the LORD. We will be so freely aware of Him and His glory that we could never again not think that way. Imagine a reality and existence where our awareness of Him never runs dry. I love California because of the ocean. I love the ocean because of God’s glory, and I love God’s glory because it takes me back to where and how it all began and where and how it will all marvelously be made right.
As I stare at the waters that fill the sea, it is my prayer that my awareness of the glory of the Lord would be deepened. Today and forevermore.
Until December,
xoxo
Kristin
Learning:
Classic, smooth Mediterranean hummus might rival peanut butter as my very favorite dip/spread.
I always have a bad attitude about Halloween and the out-and-about community aspect of it surprises and delights me every time.
I went to see two of my favorite musical artists on back-to-back nights in October. Live music heals parts of me I didn’t know needed healing. For that reason, God knew I needed to live in Austin.
I love people who want to grow. I had a young woman come to me this month and say, would you want to mentor me? That can be awkward (I know because I’ve done it) and she went for it anyway. I love the initiative, humility and intention.
Reading
I picked up A Fine Sight to See by Sophie Hudson. She is so very funny and writes about women in leadership. So I felt as though I was double-in.
I am almost all the way through Ina Garten’s memior, Be Ready When Luck Happens and I have really liked it. My close friends make fun of me because of how much I love a good food memior, but this reads almost like a novel.
In prep for writing some curriculum, I am reading a Galatians commentary by Tim Keller, Galatians for You. It promises to help equip you if you want to teach the Bible- which I will do in the Spring- and if I could get any of Tim Keller’s wisdom in the Bible or teaching, I am forever here for it.
Praying:
At the ocean today, I found myself borrowing Moses’ words, show me your glory. Even though there was so much glory right in front of me, I wanted more of it. I love that four word prayer.
Some of my favorite people pray together on Monday mornings. We started a zoom call during Covid that has kept up since then. Some of us are in our 70’s, some are worship pastors, some are moms, some are not. It is a highlight and the best way to start the week.
For our country.
To stay in step with the Spirit.
Up To:
Peppering with Austin and Ry. My shoulder feels old and tired, but I have loved playing little bits of volleyball again.
Voice texting. Like. It’s. My. Job. I send funny stories, questions, encouragements, check ins, all of it. I love to use my voice to relate to my people instead of just written text messages. Ironic coming from the girl writing you a post on Substack.
Attempting homemade hummus… then getting a reservation at The Peacock at Proper Austin hotel.