Category Archives: Sacred Mundane

Besides people, nothing else has influenced my relationship with Christ more than my relationship with money.

Nothing.

Which is why I get a little crazy when we start talking finances and frugality, because while the world is trying to save a dime, score the deal, and snag the doorbuster, Scripture teaches the true secrets of frugality which turns the penny-pinching game into a life-giving pursuit. So I can’t tell you how giddy-excited I am to offer you this new e-book Faithfully Frugal on Amazon. In it I share our family’s journey, from chasing the elusive American dream to embracing simplicity, contentment, and peace. Also included are recipes and simple frugal-living ideas.  Go ahead and snag a bunch of copies for yourself and friends and spend less, give more, live more. Thanks for reading!

*YES, you can still get this book even if you don’t have a kindle. Click “Available on your PC” or “Available on your Mac” on the righthand side right above the “Give as a Gift” button. Enjoy!

**Spread the word! Thanks!

It was quiet on our 45-minute drive home from Salem. We’d done a Capitol field trip and visited friends and played hard and the kids were tired, sleepily gazing out the window as we pulled off the freeway and wound around the off-ramp toward our home.  I heard, quietly, in the backseat, Heidi’s little bird-chirp voice:

“Dutch, why do you want to grow up and go have your own home and kids?” (My ears perked up.)

“Because that’s what kids do, Heidi. They have to grow up and then get their own homes and their own kids. But you have to have a wife in order to have kids. Your wife’s the one who gives you the kids.” (Slight cringe as I realize reproductive conversations are in our future.)

“But, I don’t want to go to my own house … (thinking) … I wonder who my wife (thinking) … I wonder who my …”

I interject. “Husband? You wonder who your husband will be?”

“Yeah, I wonder who my husband will be.”

I smile. “I don’t know Heidi. We’ll find out when you’re older.” She frowns, then lights up with an idea.

“I want Daddy to be my husband!” Beams.

Dutch is quick: “Daddy can’t be your husband, Heidi!” Her face falls.

“Babygirl, I remember when I was little, I wanted my daddy to be my husband. But then when you grow up you stop wanting that and you find your real husband. It changes when you grow up.”

Her face is so serious. She’s quiet then,

“Mommy, is it sad to grow up?”

Emotion floods the car. At that moment I am sitting on my Daddy’s lap, in the big LazyBoy chair, feeling his earlobes in my fingers, snuggling against his chest, telling him I want him to be my husband. He’s laughing and telling me I won’t want that when I grow up. I can feel the fuzzy softness of his earlobes in my fingers. Like peaches. I take a deep breath.

“Oh babygirl, it’s happy-sad to grow up. Growing up is great, it’s lots of fun and it’s what God made us to do, so it’s happy. But it’s also kind of sad, because things change so much. So it’s happy-sad. Do you understand?”

She nods.

A couple days later a good friend and I had a hard conversation. Because we never “arrive,” we’re always growing up, aren’t we? We, the Body of Christ, are always growing up spiritually. And every time we move forward, taking maturing steps of understanding, conflict, humility, grace, seeking to understand and striving for unity, whenever we move forward in this spiritual growing-up process, it’s happy-sad. Why?

Because in order to grow up, we do have to lose something. Just like we have to lose our pretend idea of marrying our daddies, we have to lose our pretend ideas of what community is, what love is. God gently strips away our childish ideas and deepens us, strengthens us, matures us.

The truth is: I kind of like being a baby. 

I hate conflict. I hate that jittery feeling it gives me inside. How it makes that fear of rejection boil up to the surface.

But I can’t marry my dad. Right?

And as we grow together, as Christ’s family, we give each other grace for the growing pains.  For the happy-sad feelings of growing up.  I’m grateful to be surrounded by a community of people growing up together in Christ.

We walk through the happy-sad together. And together we grow up and prepare to be with our real Husband, forever.

~

How are you experiencing the happy-sad of growing up today? How can you embrace those growing alongside you? Thanks for growing with me, and thanks for reading.

• That this was the only book Dutch wanted from the library this week.
• Good friends.
• Grace.
• Field Trip to the state capitol.
• Getting low to see the world through their eyes. Everything looks more beautiful from down there.
• Children in footie pajamas.
• Confession.
• Forgiveness.
• Unity.
• Love.
• Growth.
• Matt & Janae.
• Being interrupted.
• Learning.
• That things don’t depend on us.
• Check-marks for kids earning pets … slowly.
• Unexpected awesome afternoon with Jeff’s cousins.
• Pre-teen and teenage kids who joyfully play with our littles. It’s SO refreshing to spend time with delightful teenagers!
• 40-year old mini cuisinart handed down to us from Jeff’s grandma. I’m a nerd but quickly chopped veggies is pretty exciting to me!
• Heidi’s laugh.
• Natalie and Lucy dressed up like princesses.
• Dutch & Marshall instant friends.
• A warm sunny day.
• How the world is full of wonder for a child. A want to live like that!
• Working through conflict.
• Christ’s love.
• Compassion.
• Chocolate coconut-milk ice-cream. 
• French fries. What’s not to love?
• Slow Sunday mornings in jammies.
• Heidi & Debra’s special little friendship.
• Simple pleasures.
• Avocados. Where have you been all my life? I want you for every meal!
• Choosing to see, enjoy, and love the little gifts of grace He gives us each day.
• Grasping the long, high, wide, deep love of Christ. (More, please, Jesus!)

I pray His long, high, wide, deep love overwhelms you this weekend. Oh how He loves us! Thanks for reading.

{*I thought we were offering a new e-book, Faithfully Frugal, today, but we had a glitch with Amazon last night, so we’ll get the kinks out and offer it to you next week! Thanks for your patience. My thoughts are somewhere else today anyway, so it works out …}

~

I thought the DMV was the worst place on earth.

I was wrong. The DHS office is.

Yesterday I spent the afternoon at DHS, at The Father’s Heart, driving through a couple Section 8 housing facilities, and in my kitchen helping my new friend from Bus Stop 32.

There are no quick fixes. (You knew that already.)

I am the first to admit being completely clueless about the ins and outs of addiction, child abuse, mental illness, poverty–the intricate web that keeps so may bound and unable to break free. No expert here. I’m just a girl whose desperate prayer the last few weeks has been, Show me how to love. After six days of praying this prayer God dumped Julie (not her real name) on my doorstep and I’ve been awkwardly trying to love and help her, completely over my skis, trying to pretend like I’m not terrified by the dark world she brings to my attention.

So while I don’t exactly have a carefully crafted treatise on the-best-way-to-help-people-with-huge-stinkin’-problems, one thing has stood out to me through our interactions with the judge, DHS workers, and other folks along the way:

Justice and love.

There are a lot of people out there working for justice. There are great programs in place. There are excellent treatment facilities. But here’s what there isn’t a lot of:

Love.

My goal yesterday, my only goal, was to convince Julie of God’s love for her and my love for her. That’s it. I know she’s pretty much a mess. I know she’s still dishonest about some things. But today I watched the eyes of people as they interacted with her. Just watched. Here’s what I saw:

Judgment. Suspicion. Guardedness. Skepticism.

All of this is well-deserved. I get that.

But then I took her into The Father’s Heart, a street-ministry near our home that feeds 350-500 people every week, provides job training, a safe house, shelter, computer resources … and love. 

The Father’s love.

We walked into the building at 3:34. They close at 3:30pm, but I was desperate to get her there, so she could just see what it was, so I tried the door anyway. They readily welcomed us in and embraced us with smiles and open arms, even though they’d already had a long day serving dozens of homeless folks. They loaded Julie up with food and toiletries, and walked her through the facility, letting her know she was welcome anytime.

But the greatest thing they offered her was the look in their eyes.

They loved her. 

Even though she went outside and smoked while they were preparing her foodbox. Even though they’d seen thousands of Julies walk through their door. They had every right to claim Compassion-Fatigue. Every right to give the same judgment, suspicion, guardedness, and skepticism that Julie was used to receiving from the rest of the world. Of course they knew her kind.

But the way they looked at her was completely different. They looked at her with eyes of love.

Here’s the bottom line: People can tell in our eyes whether we love them or not. We can go through the motions, do the right things, say the right things, but only love changes people. Love looks at people with eyes of hope. Love accepts them. Yes, love makes tough choices. But love always looks to the good end and believes the best.

Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.
—1 Corinthians 13:7

To give people hope, to inspire people to faith, we must first give people love.

So now faith, hope, and love abide, these three; but the greatest of these is love.

–1 Corinthians 13:13

Learning to love, along with you. Who can you love–not try to “fix”– this weekend? Thanks for reading.

“You should go to this.” My husband pulled a flyer out of his bag and slid it across the counter to me.

“Faith & Culture Writer’s Conference? No way.” He tilted his head, gave me a stop-being-ridiculous look, and waited.

“#1, I’m not a writer. I’m a wannabe. I’m a blogger with a pathetically small following and I say I’m going to write a book but I probably never will. #2, All the people there will be real writers. Authors and stuff. No way I’m going.”

He wasn’t listening.

“They have appointments with literary agents. You can share your book idea and get feedback. It’s only $55. I’m signing you up.”

Several weeks later I finally caved.

As I filled out the registration form, I scrolled through the photos of literary agents. Hmm … which one to pick? Oh man, not Bill Jensen. Too scary. Jenni Burke! She looks nice, and she’s smiling in her picture. I’ll pick her. She’ll let me down easy and won’t laugh at me and make me cry. 

Done.

The week of the conference, Western Seminary called. “We’re so sorry. Your registration had an error and had to be resubmitted. Because of that the agent appointments have filled up. The only one left is with Bill Jensen.”

Panic. Scary Guy!

I prepared for the conference as most lame people do when afraid — I pretended it wasn’t happening. Finally, at 10pm the night before the conference, I figured I better have something to give to Scary Guy. So I Googled “How to write a book proposal” and quickly found myself more overwhelmed than ever. It was a little late to begin drafting up the 50-page proposal that Rachel Gardner said was necessary. I had nothing but a blog and a dream. And Scary Guy.

I arrived alone and didn’t know a soul. Holding something in my hand would provide security, so I headed for the coffee. A bright, cheery gal in her 50s started chit-chatting, and to my surprise she wasn’t published either. She was just an artist who loved Jesus, photography and poetry and had come to learn whatever she could. What a novel idea!

From the very first session I was hooked. Paul Metzger had me mesmerized as he shared Jeremiah 20:9 and spoke of a message shut up in our bones, how we should only write if we must write, if we had a message that we could not hold in. That was it! That was exactly how I felt. The more he spoke the more I realized this simple but profound truth: I am a writer. If God has called me to write, I am a writer.

An ISBN in my name does not make me a writer.

Writing makes me a writer.

Cornelia’s workshop had me feverishly scribbling notes and again, encouraged. Where Dr. Metzger had inspired my soul, Cornelia gave me practical tools. I kept texting my husband, “This is amazing. Thank you so much for making me attend!”

But I still had to face Scary Guy. When the time for my appointment came, I waited at the door and read his bio. Oh for crying out loud. He’d been in the literary industry longer than I’d been alive. He represented big name authors. I texted a friend: “Just pray he doesn’t stuff me in the garbage can.”

“Next, Kari Patterson.”

I sat down opposite Bill Jensen, and blurted out, “I don’t know what I’m doing! I’ve never done this before.” To my surprise, he smiled.

“That’s ok … just tell me your idea.”

And I did. And to my amazement, he didn’t stuff me in the garbage can. He didn’t laugh. He didn’t mock. He actually liked it. A lot. He liked the title and the message and he affirmed what I was already doing and gave me clear, practical steps of what to do next. He was thoughtful and listened. He was kind.

I went home and wrote the 50-page book proposal the following week.

A few months later I signed with a literary agent–the same agency which represents Paul Metzger, another Writers Conference connection–and although our publisher is still pending, the book has been written and we’re close. Very close.

But none of this would be if it weren’t for the flyer on the counter, the $55, and the Scary Guy appointment.

Oh, and the lady who chit-chatted with me over coffee?

She lives with us now. 

In so many ways, the Faith & Culture Writers Conference was a godsend. There will always be a thousand reason to not. Not go. Not write. Not try. The conference may not be life-changing for you. But it might.

Give it a shot.

~

Live near Portland and love to write? Consider attending the Faith & Culture Writers Conference April 5th & 6th! More info here. And WHATEVER you love to do, whatever gifts, passions, talents God has given you, are there steps He’s leading you to take? What “Scary Guy” do you need to face in order to move courageously forward by faith? Give it a shot! Thanks for reading.

January 1, 2011, as I prayed through the New Year and asked God for His direction, I very clearly sensed Him saying to write every day. Every single day.  Up to that point I was sporadic, a post here, a post there, irregular and undisciplined, whenever I’d feel like it. Sure, I said I wanted to write a book, to use written communication to share the truth of Jesus, but I wasn’t actually doing it very much.

So He said to write every day.

And I did. And so often I’d go back and ask Him if I could do less. Write less. This everyday stuff is hard. Exhausting. But He never let me off the hook. And He’d always provide exactly the words at exactly the time. Every time.

But something this year is different. It’s been more than two years of everyday-writing. And right now God is shaking things up in my life. Messing with me. I wish I could say that I like it, but it’s kind of a yucky-feeling. Sometimes, a lot of times, selfish ambition gets mixed in there with godly ambition. Making followers of me gets mixed with making followers of Jesus. Definitions of success get mixed up. The idea of “ministry” gets a radical make-over and leaves me questioning everything.

Everything.

Like how loving a drug-addict last week, in real time, might be more important than drafting a blog post.

You think?

And then Tim Keller says this in Bible Study Magazine this month:

“[Loving God and loving your neighbor] means being sincere. People in the city have to see that you’re not just trying to increase your following … The city needs to see us loving our neighbor.”

What do I spend more time doing? Loving my neighbor (my real neighbor, the real-life, hurting, broken person sitting in front of me) or working to increase my online following in the name of loving my neighbor?

I start to feel sick to my stomach.

So I wrestle. Write less, love more. But it’s still hard. I’m part of an online world that’s always pushing forward. Always new looks. More content. More ways to grab people’s attention. And then I think of a friend of mine, another blogger. And since she’s on my mind I click her site. And you know what I find?

God told her to quit. And she obeyed. She up and quit blogging because God told her to. And all of a sudden I’m so encouraged to simply obey God, because while pride pushes, integrity inspires. And her integrity, before God and people, inspires me. I sense the storm settling into clarity.

Then, of course, yesterday Jeff sends me this quote:

“How to be insignificant: reach for your own self-defined significance.  Big-deal-ness undermines itself.  Ambition demotes.

How to be significant: forget about your big plans and obey Jesus radically in sacrificial ways that make no sense unless he himself is the reward.” Ray Ortland Jr.

I’m on the floor now.

Now, I will confess to you that in this past month, as I’ve wrestled, I’ve actually Googled (this is so embarrassing) “Optimum number of blog posts per week.”

Insert vomit here.

And of course all the experts say you should blog everyday. Of course. And then of course this morning I open my Bible and read in Joshua where they are conquering the promised land and the Gibeonites pull a prank and trick Israel into establishing a treaty with them. You remember why?

The men of Israel took of [the Gibeonite] provisions, but did not ask counsel from the LORD. (Joshua 9:14)

They looked at the evidence, but didn’t listen to the Lord. In other words, they Googled the “right” answer but didn’t ask God.

And you know what? Whey they didn’t ask counsel of the Lord the result was exhausting. They had to deal with these thorn-in-the-flesh Gibeonites forever, all because they didn’t take counsel from the Lord.

I don’t know about you. I think I’m going to listen.

So here’s the deal: It’s not headline news, but we’re shifting to a MWF schedule. I’ll still lay out my heart and share God’s Word and my messy life here in this place, but only three times a week. I believe this is obedience to God, and I’m trusting Him that less is more. 

Thank you so much for reading.

 PS Surprise! My sweet friend Sarah updated the site yesterday and I didn’t realize it’d be live today. Kind of ironic that on the day I share about doing less, the whole site is revamped. Grateful for her work. Hope you enjoy the fresh look.

• Family Night Funny-Face Competition. Hard to choose a winner …
• Mary & RJ who changed my life. Praying God changes theirs.
• Reevaluating. Over and over and over.
• Trusting.
• Believing that the yucky uneasy feeling is good. The Holy Spirit is at work.
• Leaning wholly in His sovereignty.

• Pouncing tigers jumping on the couch. Love my little blurs…
• Elisa. Such a gift in my life.
• Change by Lystra’s Silence. Grips my heart every time.
• Good anger.
• Coming alive.
• Courage.
• Friends.
• Invitations. The real kind, paper, mailed with a stamp, carrying the scent of a friend.
• Family Night. More than one this week. 🙂
• Canby Lego Store.
• Goodwill.

• Painting our bathroom cabinets white, letting the kids paint bright Picassos on the backs. I will grin every time I reach for a clean towel. 🙂
• Baking cookies with my girl.
• Hearing His voice in the little stuff.
• Call from Candi.
• Spray paint.
• Just letting it go.
• Dear, dear Janae. There aren’t words…
• Trusting.
• Bus Stop 32.
• Dark places, His light.
• Jesus.

Have a blessed weekend; thanks for reading.

It’s all about icebergs.

All this week I’ve been meditating on icebergs. 

Our spiritual life should be like an iceberg. What shows on the outside is just a tiny tip of a larger, more substantial life underneath the surface. While we may engage in public worship, prayer, speaking and ministering, the vast majority of our relationship with God takes place in the unseen places. The quiet of our hearts. The early mornings or late nights. What breaks through the surface is just a glimpse of a larger, deeper, vibrant relationship with Jesus.

But last week and weekend I just felt so top-heavy. Six months of transition. Moving. Leaving one job and friends and ministry. Church-planting. Starting over in so many ways. Lots of speaking. Writing a book. Lots of people.

As I got in the car after the retreat I felt just about to tip over. 

Thankfully, God had already put it on my heart to take this entire week “off” for the most part. Very limited email/blog/screen time. Lots of time with the kids. Lots of cleaning and house-work and beautifully mindless work that lets me muse and meditate and steep. Lots of sacred mundane, the life not the blog. 🙂

It’s been so very good. I can feel the difference in my heart. Grounded. Less top-heavy. Less tippy.

So thank you for your grace and patience this week. Do you ever feel top-heavy? A bit tippy? How is your iceberg? Perhaps this weekend might be a perfect time to unplug, unwind, and plan some strategic margin so you can avoid tipping over. (I’ve done that; it’s not fun.)

May your weekend be full of rest, peace, and lots of real-time relationships. I’m off to read a shark book to my favorite little marine biologist! Thanks for reading.

Sweet blog friends … I am taking extra time this week to be with people (mostly my family!) in “real time.” So today, please enjoy this … praise God for a pastor who would COURAGEOUSLY do something like this. So beautiful. Enjoy, and be encouraged to continue moving into whatever dark spaces God puts before you. He is the light in you. Blessings and thanks for watching, Kari
[vimeo 41412962 w=615 h=346]

“The Drop Box” – Documentary PROMO from Brian Ivie on Vimeo.