Boogers and Barbarians

I spent last summer in Los Angeles living with my sister, interning at Blue Mics/Creative Rec, and working as a personal assistant to a couple.
I love(d) Los Angeles but only had a few friends.

As a people lover, this stunk but the few friends I had were some of the coolest people I’ve ever met and welcomed me so quickly.

Elih and Tess.
These girls.

Too cool.
They are students at FIDM (Fashion Institute of Design and Merchandise aka that place LC goes on The Hills) and are children’s fashion designers. Their primary focus is to allow kids to look swank while being careless and wild.
Elih and Tess made me feel so welcome. They invited me to be their friends without making things awkward. I praise Jesus for their kindness. Seriously great people (plus they’re hilarious.) I really needed them in that time.
And now they really need us.
In order to pursue their dreams of making this clothing line, Boogers and Barbarians, they need some serious MOOLA.
The production is ready, they just need some capital to get it going.
So, what’s $5.
Instead of getting a few coffees this week, use that money to make the world more beautiful. You even get a gift out of it.
Obviously children will be swaggy, but also Tess and Elih deserve it! They are great people who are actually pursing their dreams. I think there is power in that. I want to support it.
So I know a lot of you (and me) get paid THIS FRIDAY, so let’s end the month by supporting these girls.
I’m tellin ya, you even get some cool gifts in return.
Your funds (seriously, $5 is nothing! you won’t even miss it.) help them with the following:
purchasing fabric, sewing, fit sessions, buying our seller’s permit, forming into an LLC, and trademarking our logos.

According to their site, “the significance of an investment is necessary for this business to be successful. With vendor relations and sourcing completed, we know exactly who, where, and how to produce our line. Thank you so much for your support to make BooBar a reality!”
If you can’t give $5, pray. Seriously pray. They are half way to their goal, but still have a long way to go and time is cutting short! They only have a few days left! They really need you.
They’re great yall.
I’m done.

oh. and who doesn’t want their kid/nephew/grandson to look like this dude:Image


(all photos were stolen from the Boogers and Barbarian’s blog,


That time Lindsey and Jesus gave me a car.

Lindsey is one of the most generous people I know.
This isn’t just because she’s kind with her money and possessions, but because she is always putting forth the extra effort to make you feel important. (She is also dating my older brother, Nate, and will probably be my sister soon.)

But Lindsey is also generous because once she gave me her car.

I had heard a few stories of people getting free cars. It was usually in a moment of desperation. Where their original vehicle blew up on the high way, or someone stole it from their driveway.
I never had a car before this and I never thought I would get one anytime soon.

Actually, my younger brother (Austin), my dad and I were all sharing a car at the time.

We live in the same house but have completely different schedules. My brother is an intern with his youth ministry and spends a large amount of his time discipling guys and picking them up from all over the place. My dad has to go to work and meetings at church or has lunch plans across town. I have class, meetings and occasionally like to visit friends in other towns.
It was a pain but we made it work.
My dad and I would walk to work so that Austin could drive to school. I would take my lunch break switching cars with my dad and I’d visit my friends for a night, and come back home so that my dad could drive to work the next morning instead of spending the night.
Thankfully we live in a fairly small town and we could walk to the majority of places we needed to go.

(note to English friends: people in my town drive everywhere. We don’t have public transportation!)

Anyways, we made 3 people sharing 1 car work. But it stunk.

So, one Saturday morning I told my mom in a snarky attitude that I was going to start praying for someone to give me their car for free because I would never be able to afford my own. I heard that it had happened to a few of my friends and I wanted it to happen to me. I was being sassy (a bit materialistic) but serious.

AND THEN GET THIS: literally that night Lindsey asked me if she could give me her car and I am shocked I didn’t poop my pants. WHO DOES THAT!?!?
I hadn’t even starting praying yet. I just talked about it.

She had remembered me talking about our car situation one day and felt like she needed to give me her impala. She had recently started her first real paying job and had enough funds to buy herself a nicer car and get rid this one. So, a few months later Lindsey changed the oil, filled the gas tank and tossed the keys over to me.


I’m still shocked to this day. It was a miracle.

I think you can see Jesus in people like Lindsey, who just love you because they do.

Jesus can get confusing to people, he is confusing to me but times like this make him even more alive. Jesus is alive and I know this through people like Lindsey.

I really didn’t need a car, I wanted a car but I still have two feet that are fully capable of walking. I still walk when it isn’t freezing outside and now that it is freezing my dad and I have been sharing. (Yes, I am a junior in college and my father still drives me to school. I am aware.) This car isn’t mine. It really is a product of a miracle and a really generous girl.

Anyways, I am constantly amazed at how generous the Lord is to his people for absolute no reason. I pray that you and I can be as generous as Lindsey was to me. I want to love people just because I love them. I pray that I can see the needs of others over the needs of myself. I pray to be generous.

Dear friends, since God so loved us, we also ought to love one another. No one has ever seen God; but if we love one another, God lives in us and his love is made complete in us.” 1 John 4:11-12

 Here’s Lindsey with my family. The people on the edges are new (Adam and Lindsey), but isn’t it freaky how much they look like us? (this picture is also super low quality, oops.) also I’m not that short, I just hate heels.


If you are good at making coffee, read this.

I really enjoy coffee.

I’m not obsessed (okay not too obsessed) nor do I know where my exact beans come from and how they are roasted, but I am really fascinated by the science behind coffee. 
I am fascinated by how God created a single bean that with a bit of creativity and adventure can become a drink that not only provides energy and delight to us, but also creates an element of community and conversation. 
(I love going to coffee with friends. I would love have a job where I just sat in a coffee shop and people just came to talk life with me. I would love it.)
I have this dream that revolves around coffee that I think I will share on here sometime soon, but before that I have a question.
I have this french press and a pour over and I would really like to know how to use them correctly. I can’t afford to go buy coffee everyday, so I would really like to make the best cup EVER right inside my house.

So here is a basic question, 
how much coffee do I put in my french press and pour over to make just one cup? 
I’m sure you could make this into a complicated question, but if you were going to make your own cup how would you do it? I like it dark and black.

I’ve been trying to do this right, but I am just missing something. 

So this is my first post where I would actually really like someone to answer my question. (you can always respond. don’t get me wrong!)
You could even come to my house and show me if that is really necessary. pweeeeassse! I know you’re out there.

I won’t name names.



A year ago today I moved to England.

Unfortunately, the British government forced me to leave after six months.
Thankfully those months changed my life. 

These people changed my life and in celebration my dad and I drank tea today and tomorrow my family is going to eat some sort of english meal. Probably french fries (“chips”) and chicken because I don’t like fish. 



I was rereading through my journal and found this. 
I wrote this on my last day in Preston. Such an odd moment reliving those emotions.

“I’ve packed up my room. 
Stored my memories into two suitcases (and remembered clothes and shoes that I never wore once my whole time abroad).
(Charlo had to help me zip up the bag. it was kind of a disaster.)
I drink tea…something I didn’t like before moving here.
I’m sweating in 60 degrees weather…because I’m so used to being bundled up due to the cold.
It has been the coldest spring england’s ever had.

I guess I kind of just like to ignore the fact that life goes on.

This semester has been the best.
I couldn’t of asked for anything more and am seriously overwhelmed with how comfortable, blessed, grateful, welcomed, and important I’ve felt. The people. I’ve met good people. 
Although sometimes I hated it, wanted to leave and sincerely felt lonely… in the end I know that if I’d stay longer these could be some incredible life long friends. It’s interesting how friendship is. We are closest to the people we are physically with and I’m so aware of that now. 
I hate the idea that I have to leave them.
 They’ve been so good to me. 
They’ve been hilarious. 
This week I’ve noticed this even more.
Sitting in the park with Jamie, Ryan, Simon and Rosalyn. Bowling with them. 
Training to Liverpool with Hannah to see Sarah and the city.
Slumbing with the girls.

Backpacking Europe. 
Seeing how people are so similar. How people just want to feel important and loved. How dreams are reachable…you just have to take action. 
I didn’t plan backpacking Europe. I knew I wanted to go…so I went. 
Life happened along the way.

I think of when Sarah and I first moved here. 
We went to the store and bought everything we needed and on the way home saw a pub advertising “mac and cheese, 2 pounds.” We had milk with us but wanted to stop in because we both love mac and cheese and needed a bit of home in our systems.
I’ll never forget setting the milk behind the building so that it would stay cold.
We sat inside to receive the most disgusting plate of mac and cheese ever. We never went back. 
That day I learned that English food was not for me.

Later we went grocery shopping and my bag broke on the way home. We pouted and never walked to the grocery store again. We found a bus to take us to Asda, Walmart’s twin. It was an escape to North America, we said.

I think of CU, Longton, Whitendale and more. I’m scared, but I’m embracing life’s uncertainty because this was definitely unexpected.”

Life is about the not knowing, the delicious and often terrifying ambiguity, having to change, accommodate… taking the moment and making the best of it, without knowing what is next.” -Gilda Radner

These pictures mean a lot more to me than they do to you, but they each are filled with memories that changed my life.  ImageImageImageImageImageImageImageImageImage

Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things you didn’t do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines, sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover.” – Mark Twain

Blogging and vulnerability are terrifying.

Blogging is terrifying.

I was telling a few of my friends the other day about how terrifying blogging can be.

I was explaining my fear of meeting a stranger and them automatically thinking they know everything about me before I get to explain myself in person.

Then my friend responds, “uhh.. isn’t that the point of a blog?”
Shoot. Yep. She got me.

I guess it is the point because literally ANYONE can read this thing.

I read this woman’s blog and once I saw her in real life. I felt like she was a celebrity or something. I just stared at her from across the room, like a legit creeper. She was with her children (who I know the names of and their ages and what they like to do for fun and what the theme of their birthday party was…CREEPY)

She even inspired me to take blogging seriously and so I emailed her a few questions and she never responded. SO she must be an actual celebrity.

I think I know this woman because on her blog she is vulnerable. She talks about actual life.
She talks about having hard feelings towards her son’s teacher and having to break down her judgments.
She talks about how she fails as a mom and how she and her husband went through an intense affair.  
She talks about life and I guess if no one else is going to, a blog is a pretty darn good place to be vulnerable.

My brother is actually obsessed with vulnerability. No lie, as I am writing this he is at a debate tournament giving a speech on vulnerability. (Most of what I am about to say I stole from the speech he wrote.)

I’m obsessed with chocolate chip cookies like he is with vulnerability.
Because ultimately vulnerability is the guide to true connection and community.
(next month he is going to write a guest post on connection because he is much better at explaining this than I am.)

However, Austin (my brother) is only obsessed with connection and vulnerability because of Brené Brown (and Jesus.)  She is an American scholar, author, and public speaker who has a book sitting by my bed that hasn’t been opened yet called “Daring Greatly”


Mrs. Brown and Austin talk about how we are shameful because we fear rejection. We fear that we will be unworthy of connection.
I put up stupid things on social media so that people will like me.
I spend too much money on clothes so that I seem “hip”
I am also terrified people will think I’m stupid after reading this website.

I do stupid things because I am shameful and I’m scared to tell you about them because I don’t want to be rejected.  

Now, I haven’t read Mrs. Brown’s book, but I do know (from Austin) that being vulnerable is at the core of shame, fear, and our struggle for worth, it’s also the birthplace of joy, creativity, love, and belonging.

I think I am still figuring out what true vulnerability looks like, but I guess I am going to start here because I shouldn’t mind if a stranger knows a bit too much about me. Stories are powerful and joy, creativity, love and belonging change lives.
I’m all about that.

I’m also about loving people better, and according to C.S. Lewis, vulnerability is a guide to love. 

The Four Loves, CS Lewis

 “To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything and your heart will be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact you must give it to no one, not even an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements. Lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket, safe, dark, motionless, airless, it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. To love is to be vulnerable.”

This is Austin’s head crushing my head. He will probably be mad I’m posting this but no need to be shameful, right?

Here’s my heart, Lord. 

Place of peace

I read all of those stories and look at all those pictures of people living exciting lives.

They go on trips to other countries that I cannot even pronounce and meet brilliant people they would have never met other wise.I went on a trip like that once and I met inspiring characters but the thing is, it was just a trip.

My real, actual daily reality is nothing like those stories. I went on a trip, but now I live in a small town in Missouri with my parents. I go to a pretty normal state school where my professors attend my family’s church and I can go into Walmart and know of nearly half the population. I think I could even drive the town blindfolded. Also, Applebee’s is one of the nicest restaurants.


My current life isn’t as romantic as it used to be.
I will not be backpacking Europe anytime soon (but I could if you sponsored me, I could leave tomorrow) but I will still be living in this town.

This town is a place of peace.

No matter how crazy and eventful life can be, I can always come back to this literal place of peace and find rest.
I truly believe that while adventure and action is necessary, a peaceful place to rest is just as, if not more, important.

Okay okay. You can argue that we are only supposed to find comfort in the lord and that he is our true rest. I get it.
But how great is it to be able to have a place of peace. That he cares for his children so much that he wants us to have a place to be comfortable. Obviously he can make us disorientated, but a bit of orientation isn’t bad, I don’t think.

While I am often frustrated at the lack of action and culture in this place, it is really great being able to walk into a store and have people know you and your family. It is nice being able to know where to find coffee after 6pm and to know which store sells the best nail polish.

Those strangers I met on my trip were great, but knowing what my brother is thinking just by the face he’s making is comfortable. Those streets I explored were gorgeous, but knowing which back roads to take to get to school fastest is comfortable.
I like comfort.
I constantly need to remember that this is good. That this place is good.
This is not a place I should be at forever, but it is still good.
I pray that when I leave this place, I find another place of peace. 


(what is not good is that every place that sells quality coffee closes before or at 6. This is not okay people. Change that.)

I am Katelyn and I am a serious blogger.

So blogging…

I’m here and I am about to start taking this thing seriously.

If you’re my real life friend, you’d know that I used to write through Tumblr, you can check out my past life here. However, with some encouragement from my friends and family, I decided to blog a bit more seriously through WordPress.

So here we go, typos and all.

Social media is fleeting.

My friend Taylor and I were just talking about how powerful social media is. How we can post pictures of our life and create what seems to be a really exciting story. I once posted a picture of a dinner I had in Budapest and nearly 30 people liked it (yes I posted a picture of food. Get at me.) My life “seemed” pretty perfect in that moment, but what they didn’t know is that I really ate alone and after that meal I walked back to my hostel alone, bawling (like really hard, people could hear me wailing), praying to be back home with my mom. It wasn’t exciting. I was really lonely, and ready to stop this adventure I went on to be back in my comfort zone.
I obviously didn’t write that on Instagram because I wanted people to think I had it all together. I lied.
I don’t want this blog to be about that.
Life sucks sometimes.
Obviously my story is not worthy of a website, but the Lord and all the insane things he does is worthy of the whole freaking Internet.

So here we go.
I don’t want to forget my life, so this is going to be good for me (and maybe embarrassing in a year or two or twelve.) If you have any suggestions, I’m a super novice and would love to hear them.

In the words of my brother, “leggo.”

Photo on 2013-11-26 at 12.23 #2
(this is me eating a carrot. I was taking a study break and decided to check out my hair via Photo Booth.)