Author Archives: karenkeegan

Keeping Records

Posted on by under Choices, Journaling

Journal 2017

I don’t know why, but I am a collector of written records from my life. Perhaps it’s because I have such a poor memory and I want to offload information from my brain to make room for the present. Perhaps it’s because I wish my parents had kept more records of their life. Billions of people have lived and died without any more recorded evidence of their existence than their birth and death dates, so maybe this is my attempt at leaving a trail behind for my girls or a grandchild who’s doing research on his
ancestry.

I have four filing cabinets; four plastic totes filled with old calendars, scrapbooks, and journals; and multiple computer files chronicling all the compartments of my life. I maintain databases of contacts (categorized by personal, ministry, and business), lists of addresses where we’ve lived, books I’ve read, and trips we’ve taken. One spiral-bound notebook catalogs all our medical records, and I keep all notes from various committee meetings. I can tell you where we went on most anniversaries and can quickly pull up all the family recipes. Want to know what our family did each year? I may not be able to recall, but it’s recorded in our annual New Year’s letters.

The Apostle Paul’s steps were ordered by the Lord—literally. Others before me have mapped out his travels and recorded the highlights of his career. Luke records the facts; rarely does he analyze or zero in on the thoughts and motives of Paul and his companions. The book of Acts is not a biography per se, but a historical record, a history book entry. It is only in hindsight, as we recount our stories, that we begin to see the patterns emerge and the very distinct hand of God in every move.

Luke’s record has survived for 2000 years, and we study it and scrutinize and dissect it and try to visualize it—because it is in the canon of Scripture. My life is no less chosen and orchestrated and directed by the Holy Spirit, but I do not anticipate my writings will impact any more than a few friends who might be interested in what I have to say. The records I’ve kept over the years may all end up in the trash someday, and that’s okay, for what’s really important is the footprint I’ve left on people’s hearts.

Casting Crowns

Posted on by under Scripture

Journal 2017

The idea of us casting crowns at Jesus’ feet has always disturbed me a little. My visual is of God handing me a reward for a job well done (like a piece of candy for doing a chore or a trophy for winning a race), but as soon as He gives me this prize, I have to hand it right back again and not get to keep it!

I realize how skewed this childhood picture is in my mind. First of all, in the book of Revelation, the ones doing the casting are the 24 elders. Somehow the church has generalized this to all believers. And second, the crown, I believe, is not a reward but a position. Giving someone else a crown signifies yielding authority to someone else.

I get to keep the reward that I earned. I always thought I was a bad Christian for not wanting to give Jesus my earned crown. Silly me.

Grandma and Jackson

Making Decisions While Triggered

Posted on by under Choices, Emotions, Scripture

Journal 2017

I’ve learned the hard way, it’s never wise to do or say something while I’m triggered. Inevitably, the words come out harsher than planned, and I make poor decisions, making matters worse. The consequences for my reactions sometimes lead to further bad choices. What a mess to clean up!

After the 12 Israelite spies returned from the land of Canaan, 10 of the spies were triggered. And in their fearful emotions, they made some foolish statements: Wouldn’t it be better for us to return to Egypt? Let’s appoint a leader and return to Egypt. (Numbers 14:3-4) Are they crazy! Leave the protection of their God? Return to the Pharoah who hates them? They’re out of their minds—literally—with fear.

Upon hearing of their punishment from God (to wander in the desert for 40 years), the 10 spies decided to go out on their own and attack the scary Amalakites. They left camp without the Lord’s direction—and perished. How foolish!

What would have happened if they had worked through their fear before opening their mouths to Moses? No wandering in the desert for 40 years. No trail of decaying bodies. And yet . . . God was able to turn even their triggers into something good. God’s will cannot be thwarted.

You are free to choose; you are not free to choose the consequences of your choices. (Samuel Thomas)

Why Do Godly Men Differ?

Posted on by under Choices, Scripture

Journal 2017

Acts chapter 15 records controversy, conflict, disputes, and confusion between the Apostles, the Pharisees, the Gentiles, and the church elders. They debated the need for circumcision, rules for the Gentiles, and John Mark’s role in service. How could there be disagreement when they had the same Holy Spirit to teach them? We’re not talking different temperaments here or even systems or culture. Truth is truth . . . or is it? Either Gentiles needed to be circumcised or they didn’t. Does this mean that one person or group was not hearing correctly from God? Does it mean that Paul and Barnabas were triggered? Who wasn’t listening to God?

I think struggle is necessary for growth. I feel inner conflict all the time, and if I don’t take the time to connect with God, I can come up with some strange conclusions. But maybe we are like plants. God sows different seeds, and our beauty is in our diversity.

Codependency and the Relationship Pillow

Posted on by under Choices, Emotions, Inner Healing, Journaling, Peace

Journal 2019

I read recently where a therapist placed three pillows on the floor and instructed her two clients to each pick a pillow on which to stand. “Your own pillow represents your soul,” she told them. “It belongs to no one else but you.” Next, she explained the middle pillow. “This one is called Relationship. Each of you may choose to go to the center pillow and discuss what you want out of the relationship, but at no time may you step on another person’s pillow. It is creepy and codependent to try to control somebody else’s soul.”

I started to explain this concept to a client one day when she was struggling to let go of some codependent relationships, but the Lord gave her a different visual. Jesus had been meeting with her in a small cabin (representing her soul) that was decorated exactly as she wanted it with warm cozy colors, a fireplace, and a comfy chair. She had also invited her adult children into her cabin and was not willing to send them out into the cold, even if she herself had to sit on the floor. “I’d do anything for my kids,” she declared.

The problem was that she was running out of food to feed those adults while her own soul was starting to shrivel and starve. Jesus explained to her that her children had their own cabins with plenty of food in them, and she was doing them a disservice by insisting they live with her. “Your cabin is unique to you,” He explained, “and you can’t fully grow into who you were meant to be if you share the space with others.”

“If I let them go,” she wondered, “does that mean I never get to see them again?”

“Oh, no,” Jesus replied. “You can always go visit them on their porch or they can come visit you, but you must not move into each other’s cabins to live.”

As I trace the steps of my own story, I can see how often I allowed others to take up residence in my cabin or on my pillow. Unwise and unhealthy choices stunted both of us. Through my processing, I’ve discovered that the more I keep healthy boundaries, the faster their healing occurs. It’s easy to say I wish I’d known all this at the beginning of my life, but in truth, knowing something and acting on it are two different things. I knew these truths on the left side of my brain, but right-side emotions kept jumping in and taking over. It feels like a long, slow process to get where I am today. Some days I wonder if I’ll ever learn the lessons God is trying to teach me. But as I read back over my journals, I discover that what used to trigger me no longer has power over me.

Living in peace is superior to living in pieces!

Feasting and Fasting

Posted on by under Choices, Emotions, God, Peace, Scripture

2009 Journal.

Once more as we stuff the turkey, open the can of cranberry sauce, and bake the pies, I wonder if this Thanksgiving feast is a waste of our money. Could we not choose to eat simply and give that money to the poor? Do I need to feel guilty over our indulgence? Christmas can also be tricky. Should we give all our gifts to charity? Always? No, I don’t think so. Should we spend all on ourselves? Again, no, that wouldn’t be right either. Somewhere there’s a balance.

There is a time and place for feasting as well as fasting. God commanded and scheduled Jewish feast days. In Luke 6, Jesus is caught attending a party, a feast, and His disciples are accused of not fasting like the Pharisees.

When you’re celebrating a wedding, you don’t skimp on the cake and wine. You feast. Later you may need to pull in your belt, but this isn’t the time. As long as the bride and groom are with you, you have a good time. When the groom is gone, the fasting can begin. (From The Message)

We need permission to feast.

We need persistence to fast.

The Banquet

Posted on by under Emotions, God, Quotes

“But I’m not . . . special,” Bailey says. “Not the way they are. I’m not anyone important.” (Erin Morgenstern in The Night Circus)

My mind won’t stay still enough to focus on the Word or prayer this morning. When this happens, writing helps slow my brain. There’s something about the physical act that’s connected to my mental thoughts. Yet even as my hand puts thought to paper, my mind flies in another dimension—a dissociation of sorts. Why does my mind go on tangents, cover the days’ schedule, rehearse conflicts, recall history, and plan for future goals, instead of staying present with the Living Lord Jesus?

I see a Gatekeeper Guardian silhouetted in a doorway with heaven’s brilliant bright light behind her. Why won’t she let me get past her?

“Because your heart is not ready or prepared yet,” I hear her say. Apparently, she can read my mind. (Oh, wait, she is my mind!)

“So how do I get ready?” I ask.

“You just did,” she says, smiling and pointing inside. My eyes try to adjust to the blinding light. I can hear laughter and the clinking of glasses and utensils. It seems there’s a party going on.

“Come on in!” I hear a voice calling out.

I step forward, groping, uncertain. An angel appears by my side, takes my elbow, and guides me to a bench. I find myself seated at a lengthy table and join the revelers. I don’t know who these beings are. Angelic hosts? Parts of my heart? Or those loved ones who have gone before? I can only see the table area directly in front of me.

Suddenly, I see God the Father “up front” wherever we are in this banquet hall. He’s introducing His Son. The hall erupts in cheers and hoots and hollers and wild clapping. I stand to join them and clap politely, but I don’t know yet what we’re celebrating. When the noise subsides, He approaches the podium.

“Thank you all for coming to my banquet,” He begins.

My mind starts to wander as I look around, my eyes adjusting to the light, able now to take in more of the scene. There are rows and rows of these banquet tables, but I still can’t make out the attendees or why we’re here.

And then I spy them—different Parts of my heart are all gathered together for a great feast. I decide I better refocus on Jesus.

“And so in conclusion . . .,” He says.

I’m chagrined. I’ve missed the whole speech!

People start clapping and I do, too, till He descends the platform, takes my hand, and leads me to the front. Uh-oh. Am I in trouble?

“Everyone, thank Grandma today for coming. She’s led you well.” Jesus has a twinkle in His eye. He knows good and well I’m here because of Him. He chose me from the foundation of the world. He wooed me and kept me and pursued me. I wouldn’t be here except for Him.

“Don’t be so modest,” He responds. “I didn’t force you to come. You chose well. You have a hard time accepting praise.”

“Because I don’t deserve it,” I think. I know my heart and its potential for pride and arrogance.

“I want you to see yourself as I see you, Karen. Are you willing to do that? That’s not pride. That’s honesty.”

And so I agree. Of course I agree. How can I oppose God? “Ok, Lord, fire away.”

Canons of confetti pop and spill their contents into the air, and the crowd cheers and roars.

“That’s my girl!” Jesus exclaims. “I love her so much. She doesn’t know how much. I’m so proud of her.”

I’m blushing bright pink. I throw my arms around Him and sob. Why tears? Why now? He may have chosen me, but I chose Him!

I see the scene in Secondhand Lions when the character Walter chooses to leave his irresponsible mom to go live with two eccentric old uncles. He’s found love, acceptance, and stability. There’s no pride in his choice. It’s a response to love.

“You bet I choose Jesus!” I shout. “He loves me! He died for me! Why would I choose the unloving, unfaithful, self-centered, wounded parent (the world, the flesh, and the devil) when I can have the real thing? I’ll choose love every time.”

“Come here, Children!” I cry, and the whole room rushes toward me for an embrace.

“Thank you for choosing Jesus!” they call out. There’s laughter, love, and delight. Dancing breaks out and raucous music surrounds us. Some return to quiet conversation over their wine.

One shy little girl approaches me, and I bend toward her. “Yes, Little One?”

She stretches on her tiptoes and whispers in my ear, “I love you.” I’m not sure of her identity, but she’s a pretty little thing, a cutie. And off she skips to play.

I glance over at Jesus.

“Aren’t you glad you came to the party?” He asks.

“Yes!” I shout to the skies. “Yes!” I’m grateful for the invitation. And we join the dancing and the merriment. It’s pure joy.

It’s time for me to start my earth day with its food preparation, exercise, emails, housework, and praying with people, but I have an open door in my heart now where I can see a party going on, and I can join in anytime I want to.

That afternoon when I gave a gift to a friend, she said, “I don’t deserve it.” Ouch! Didn’t I just say that to Jesus?

Schedule Conflicts

Posted on by under Choices, Emotions, God

Journal 2017

I feel conflicted about my schedule. I have not built in enough margin, enough down time, enough me time. My fault, I know. It feels overwhelming to think about all my relationships, responsibilities, commitments, and projects. There has to be a balance somehow. Life is messy and moves from day to day whether or not I plan or organize or prioritize. And I can make all the plans and goals I like, but they get interrupted on a daily basis.

My heart relaxes with this visual: All the parts of my day and my life are pieces on a spinning pie chart. But if God is in the center, there’s stability and peace.

Hiding Who We Are

Posted on by under Emotions, God, Inner Healing, Motherhood, Peace, Scripture

Journal 2017

In the Good Friday service tonight, I saw a visual of a thin waif. As we partook of the elements of communion, I shared them with her and she revived.

“Who is this, Lord?” I asked.

“She’s the young mom you were, trying to raise your daughters, mistakes and all. You’ve not been kind to that self.”

And as we sang, I helped the waif nail her shame, chains, and guilt, regrets, disappointments and should-haves to the cross, and I forgave her for being “less than.”

Looking back, I wonder how different I would have been as a wife and mom had I known then what I know now. I would have stayed more present, rather than hiding my true self. I kept her safe and hidden for almost 20 years, and another 10 before she fully came back to life.

I can hide parts of my heart from myself or from others or even try to hide them from God. But God knows each part intimately and wants connection with each one.

Check out these verses on hiddenness.

Times are not hidden from the Almighty (Job 24:1 KJV).

Thou desirest truth in the inward parts: and in the hidden part thou shalt make me to know wisdom (Psalm 51:6 KJV).

And God who knows the heart . . . (Acts 15:8 ESV).

Reflection of myself, 1978

Memoirs

Posted on by under Journaling

Journal 2017

Every life is both ordinary and extraordinary—it is the respective proportions of those two categories that make life appear interesting or humdrum. (William Boyd, Any Human Heart)

At funerals, we may read four-paragraph summaries of people’s lives. Families and friends may recount a few stories, and that’s the end of the tale. Most people don’t get written up in history books, and the few that do lived extraordinary lives with interesting stories to tell. And even then, one 300-page book hardly does justice to 90 years of daily living.

A story can camp on one picture, teasing out all the minute details, turning over each leaf to examine what’s underneath. Or a story can gallop through facts, summarizing large chunks of time. Ground view or bird’s eye view, the Bible has both. We get details of some individual stories of Jesus’ miracles but only summaries of other ones. Same with the Apostle Paul. We quickly sail with him through a list of cities and then stop still to examine one incident.

A new acquaintance recently asked me that cringing question, “Where are you from?” My answer often depends on how long I want to engage in the conversation. An hour later, after answering her many questions, she exclaimed, “You have to write your story!” I just shook my head. My childhood sounded foreign and exotic to her, but normal to my MK community.

My girls have also asked me to write my story. I’ve written in journals for 50+ years, but that’s not what they’re interested in primarily. They want to know the details of my childhood, before I started recording, but I’m old enough now that the memories are fading. Only a few snapshots remain, some recorded on film. I’m a big-picture kind of person and not into details. If I wrote a memoir, I’d want to focus on the defining moments, incidents, or epiphanies that changed the course of my life—and perhaps that’s what I accomplish with this blog.

A 2023 Update. My Assistant Editor and friend Dan Elyea, who passed away this month, spent years trolling for memories from his parents, his siblings, and his own life and recording them for posterity. It takes time, intentionality, and perseverance. Sorry, girls, but I’m not sure I have the time or interest to follow in his footsteps. I’m too busy living in the moment. Just grab a few copies of Simroots and you’ll find out what life was like for me growing up in a boarding school overseas.