<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1522961554660218037</id><updated>2012-01-08T20:55:44.050-08:00</updated><title type='text'>walk with me</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://katherinecb.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1522961554660218037/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://katherinecb.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Katherine</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00950577563102865516</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7Z_aocRw_AM/Tsq0SKyUp5I/AAAAAAAAADw/hCtdVhI6OWg/s220/Peru%2BJump%2Bfor%2BJoy.JPG'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>3</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1522961554660218037.post-6937550221926817409</id><published>2012-01-08T20:11:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2012-01-08T20:55:44.062-08:00</updated><title type='text'>God's Perfect Seven - Part One</title><content type='html'>High school Catholic theology taught me that seven in God's language communicates perfection.  God used that number in a funny way to teach me about His perfect plans for me.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;In 2007, desperate to move to New York City for a youthful adventure, I interviewed with a mutual fund sales desk.  Ten minutes into the interview, I pulled a painful faux pas and told my interviewer I was not interested in the position.  Truth be told, I knew in my gut I was not smart enough or educated enough to succeed in the role.  I tried to diplomatically skirt around that cold, hard fact and tell the man who would have managed me that my educational background provided me with a different skillset.  Mr. Manager assured me with a little studying I could pass the Series 6 exam that was required within six months of hire and get up to speed on anything I needed to know about the industry.  I tried once again to politely tell the man there was no way my abstract, theoretical little communications brain could pass that thing.  And then I gave up and walked out.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;God in His gracious kindness provided a ticket to NYC anyway.  A non-profit hired me to be an enslaved secretary to a team of Type A feminists out to change the world.  Four months in, I was miserable.  Lo and behold, God miraculously dropped my dream communications job into my lap.  Shockingly, it just so happened to be in a different division of Mr. Manager's company.  Amazing.  I accepted, giddy and confident that I could use my "soft skills" and excel.  Two weeks in, one small detail surfaced: I needed to pass the Series 7 Exam.  While the Series 6 covered only mutual funds, the Series 7 was significantly more complex -- it is the most comprehensive financial securities exam offered by FINRA.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;After multiple nights of panic attacks, I dried my fearful tears and pulled my pouty lower lip back in, and said, "Lord, I do not have the mental horsepower to pass this exam.  You know that, because You created me.  Nevertheless, I trust full well that You have brought me to this place.  So in faith in You, I will use the grace You give me to study as hard as I can for this test.  And if I pass, I will turn back and give You all the glory -- because it will have to be You that pass the test for me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Wrapping my head around complex put and call options was truly the most intellectually challenging endeavor I had ever undertaken.  Remember, I am no rocket scientist.  Two weeks before the exam, I sent a mass email to every friend and family member announcing I would be completely MIA, so if there was an emergency they would need to email me with that in the subject title.  Otherwise I would not respond to anyone until after January 28.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;God passed that darn test.  I bawled like a baby.  Then I went into my boss's boss's office and told him I just needed to let him know that God got all of the credit, because I couldn't have passed it on my own.  He turned beet red and, I'm sure questioning why he had hired a moron, sent me back to my cubicle to attend to my fluffy communications tasks.  The Series 7 &lt;i&gt;was&lt;/i&gt; God's perfect plan -- to be glorified in my life.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1522961554660218037-6937550221926817409?l=katherinecb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://katherinecb.blogspot.com/feeds/6937550221926817409/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1522961554660218037&amp;postID=6937550221926817409' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1522961554660218037/posts/default/6937550221926817409'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1522961554660218037/posts/default/6937550221926817409'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://katherinecb.blogspot.com/2012/01/gods-perfect-seven.html' title='God&apos;s Perfect Seven - Part One'/><author><name>Katherine</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00950577563102865516</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7Z_aocRw_AM/Tsq0SKyUp5I/AAAAAAAAADw/hCtdVhI6OWg/s220/Peru%2BJump%2Bfor%2BJoy.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1522961554660218037.post-1186109505472948809</id><published>2012-01-05T13:57:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2012-01-08T20:11:15.873-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Simply Christi</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;My job ended unexpectedly on Tuesday.  New-found freedom, and fear, instantly arose.  Each day in the coming weeks, I want to name blessings that I would not have experienced had I remained in the 9 to 5 world.  Today, time with one of my dearest friends, Christi, soars to the top of my list.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Christi often recounts her love story to me.  She tells me not because I missed it; we walked through that season together.  Instead, she tells the tale over and over again because I love to hear it.  It almost seems to good to be true, and it is certainly better than any fairly tale ever written.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Jason was Christi's first boyfriend (at 22!), first kiss (on their wedding day!), and first (and only!) love.  Sometimes she feels guilty, she says, that God made it so easy for them.  She stepped into that marriage with virtually no baggage from the past, a heart that had never been broken, and a precious innocence.  She always quickly turns that guilt into gratitude, of course.  And I agree with her notion that the gift of near painless romance is an undeserved gift from God.  But I'm also not at all surprised that Christi's love story is what it is.  Christi lives her life with a simplistic beauty that today's world rarely finds.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;In public, you can often find Christi lugging her two little guys around without a carriage, stroller, or even bag.  She simply has her keys in her pocket, her baby on her hip, and her toddler at her side.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;In her kitchen, you will always find delectable cuisines chock-full of nourishment, miraculously crafted with less than five ingredients.  Christi strategically shops at local grocers on a self-defined tight budget, always discovering the best deals on rare treats.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;At parties, attendees double-take at the breathtaking dressed-to-the-nines and looking-like-a-million-bucks brunette.  Little do most know that Christi's eclectic, masterfully mix-and-matched wardrobe largely consists of hand-me-downs from her grandmother and other relatives.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Whatever setting, whatever circumstance, Christi gravitates to the simple way of life.  For that, I simply adore her.  So it's no surprise that I jump at the chance to hear more about her simple love story. And it's no surprise that she has one to tell.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1522961554660218037-1186109505472948809?l=katherinecb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://katherinecb.blogspot.com/feeds/1186109505472948809/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1522961554660218037&amp;postID=1186109505472948809' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1522961554660218037/posts/default/1186109505472948809'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1522961554660218037/posts/default/1186109505472948809'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://katherinecb.blogspot.com/2012/01/simply-christi.html' title='Simply Christi'/><author><name>Katherine</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00950577563102865516</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7Z_aocRw_AM/Tsq0SKyUp5I/AAAAAAAAADw/hCtdVhI6OWg/s220/Peru%2BJump%2Bfor%2BJoy.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1522961554660218037.post-3171783644886819719</id><published>2007-07-05T21:11:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-16T11:02:25.687-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I Need the Lord and He Must Be in NYC</title><content type='html'>One of my favorite songs, "Need You More" by Shaun Groves, keeps running through my head. The part that I love says, "Lord I want so many things. What I need has never changed. Teach my wayward heart each day. No matter what I chase or crave. That all this wanting only makes. Me need you more. I need you more."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I need more of the Lord Jesus in my life. I crave living in New York City right now, so much so that I find it hard to feel satisfied with this amazingly abundant and blessed life in Austin. I crave it even when an impossible-to-pass-up job opportunity has plopped into my lap without any prompting on my part.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know that I will always crave things, because what I really crave is Jesus Himself, but my flesh tries to trick me sometimes and make me think that things of this world will satisfy those longings. Admitting this, I constantly try to put myself in NYC to try to imagine what I will crave from Austin once I live so far away. I will miss my family and my dear sweet friends very much. I may miss the heat when the dead of winter kicks in and freezes my Texas blood right in my very veins. Other than that, I cannot muster up one single longing that I might crave. I want New York City that badly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another song keeps popping into my head. I heard it on the "You've Got Mail" soundtrack. If I did not want to finish this post before I fall face first into the keyboard from exhaustion, I would google who sings it. For now, I'll only share one line:"I guess the Lord must be in New York City". This precisely states what I feel. I know the Lord is here with me. But I cannot help but feel that in our personal, intimate relationship, He must be in New York City waiting for me to get there. Praise Him that He's omnipresent! Hah!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What I need has never changed. I need Jesus. If He has a plan for me in New York City, then I want to go there. I will need Him desperately if I go there, to survive living so far away from home in such a cold, hard place. And if I remain here, I will need Him desperately to survive living in a place that can suffocate me in an instant with comfort, safety, and an unfulfilled dream.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I praise Jesus. Without Him, I would have no hope. I know that I need Him, and He's shown me His faithfulness. With that, I can rest. I can sleep peacefully, even without knowing who sang that song on the "You've Got Mail" soundtrack.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1522961554660218037-3171783644886819719?l=katherinecb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://katherinecb.blogspot.com/feeds/3171783644886819719/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1522961554660218037&amp;postID=3171783644886819719' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1522961554660218037/posts/default/3171783644886819719'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1522961554660218037/posts/default/3171783644886819719'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://katherinecb.blogspot.com/2007/07/i-need-lord-and-he-must-be-in-nyc.html' title='I Need the Lord and He Must Be in NYC'/><author><name>Katherine</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00950577563102865516</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7Z_aocRw_AM/Tsq0SKyUp5I/AAAAAAAAADw/hCtdVhI6OWg/s220/Peru%2BJump%2Bfor%2BJoy.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry></feed>
