Cold Feet & Coffee.

My pride hates doing this stuff. But I realized writing helps me learn a little and feel organized. So here I am, pausing my research proposal in Starbucks (because my thoughts are twirling) with cold feet and coffee.

Have you ever slowly gone through a change? I’m not talking about putting a bandaid on a wound, waiting for it heal and then ripping it off once it has scabbed over. I’m talking about coming in with a bloody wound, wiping it with a wet paper towel, waiting for it to stop bleeding, cleaning it with that burning chemical liquid, waiting for it to stop burning, then covering it with Neosporin, then finally placing a bandaid on it. Only to know you can’t do anything to make it start bleeding again.


That is such a process. JUST gimme that bandaid, and I’ll be on my way.

This Easter was my first Easter to be away from home. I cried a lot because I was SO homesick. But I have never resonated with Easter, like I did this past weekend. The Spirit really walked with me throughout the day from the words, “With a loud cry, Jesus breathed his last,” (Mark 15:37) to “… You are looking for Jesus the Nazarene, who was crucified. He has risen! He is not here. See the place where they laid him.” (Mark 16:6)

Talk about an emotional process, just with the passing time from the words in between amongst the events that occurred. Watching Jesus die, waiting for the kingdom of God, Pilate surprised Jesus was already dead, wrapping Jesus’ body, to closing the tomb, to Mary and Mary wondering who was going to roll the stone away, I mean shouldn’t they both be on the mindset of teaming up to roll it away? That was a heavy stone, at least it looked like it on the coloring pages I colored in all my Sunday school days. Then to look up noticing the stone was rolled away, then finding a man sitting on the right side, Scripture states, “They were alarmed.” And in verse 8 Mary and Mary were speechless, and ran out the tomb trembling, bewildered and afraid.

If it were me, I think I would rather have Him die for a minute and come back to life. But I’m not God. I want mourning to joy in a snap. But I’m not God. Why not save the time and effort on all those emotions? Oh yeah, I’m not God.

JUST gimme that bandaid and I’ll be on my way. 

I found myself in a season of “SLLLLLLOOOWWWWWWWW CHANGGGGEEEEEE.” In the process of all the emotions that comes with pressing into Jesus… from death to resurrection, plus everything in between. Slow change in where I am currently located. Slow change in this unbelievable change of career, accepting this cold weather in April (YALL. I CAN’T WITH THIS WEATHER), opportunities and choices, daily living in little things, to how I approach reading The Word, in listening to His voice, and currently the hardest slow change, prayer. I am even slowly changing from

“JUST gimme that bandaid and I’ll be on my way,” to “slow change is so sweet,” as I type. SEE learning.

I look back as a little kid coming in crying with a bloody wound and my mom going through that sloooowwwwww process of bandaging me up. I hold on to the time we spent, especially the special privilege of sitting on top of her bathroom counter because us Kerr kids WERE NOT allowed to do that. I think of her patience with me in the struggle of explaining what happened, her graceful white hand with long fingernails reaching up to wipe my tears, her story she got to tell about how she fell off her bike, telling me everything is okay, keeping my mind towards her and off the burning of hydrogen peroxide, encouraging me to try again, to making a dirty mess on the floor from SO MANY wrappers and wipes, to walking out with a smile on my face. *insert laughter somewhere in there because I know she probably laughed at me.  Though it was slow, long, and I wasn’t healed immediately, I got the presence of my mom in all of that. NOW THAT IS SWEET.

I believe in the same way, the sweetness in slow change comes from just being in His presence. I cling on to, Mark 15:38, “The curtain of the temple was torn in two from top to bottom.” Joy in an instant because Jesus died for me, curtain was torn but then the process of emotions (life) to an even greater joy because He rose again. I get HIM. He’s in no rush. Neither should I. I would miss out on a lot.

I take back my, JUST gimme that bandaid and I’ll be on my way. 

Gimme that slow change but don’t let me do it without You, God.







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