On this particular day, business in Braverly was slow. A few customers trickled in and left with drinks to go which meant my only distraction was the smell of freshly baked bread coming from the kitchen. Outside, thunder rumbled in the distance and dark clouds blanketed the sky. Rainy season was upon us, so we were always prepared for a downpour. While the weather swirled and tried to make up its mind about releasing buckets of rain, I took advantage of the silence, the peace. 

But on this day, my plans were interrupted when one of our Braverly women pulled up a chair next to mine, and I was reminded that some distractions aren’t what they seem. Some are actually friendships and conversations and moments together.

This day wasn’t one to relish the silence. It was a day to relish relationship.

My friend and I talked about home–about Burma, about America. We talked about our siblings and told stories of our families–about the dumb things we did together, about memories we shared with them. She told me about her family spread across on three continents—Asia, North America, and Australia. Her eyes filled with a kind of longing I’ve come to recognize. I see it when I talk with my team about our family and friends in the States. I see it when I talk to our women about their family across the world. It's a longing for home, for family, for the familiar.

On this day, I simply sat and listened and asked questions. I learned about her mother who died when she was a baby, about her grandma who helped raise her. Tears swam in her eyes when she told me how much she wanted to see her mom—even just a picture of her. As it was, no one had a single snapshot, and I thought about what it must feel like to ache so deeply. I thought about what it must feel like to lose my mom as a two month old baby. I thought about what it must feel like to wonder what my mom was like, what she looked like, if we had the same eyes or the same smile. And I ached with my friend. 

Then she said such a simple, heart-aching sentence, “It’s so hard to be away from family.” 

On that day, my friend wasn't looking for someone who had all the answers or who would tell her that everything was going to be ok. She was looking for someone who would empathize with her. She needed someone who would look into her tear-filled eyes, unafraid of the raw emotion and say something along the lines of, “I get it. I feel that too. I can’t imagine what it must feel like to wonder the way you do about your mom, but I feel an ache in my heart when I think about my mom too. I miss her. I’m there with you.” 

More and more, I’m convinced that these are some of the most valuable, most meaningful moments we can share with one another. They come when we are least expecting it—like when we're grateful for a distraction-free environment to get work done. 

Around us, people are dying to feel seen, valued, loved, and known. They are dying to know that others care about them enough to pause the important work they’re doing to simply sit and be with them.

I didn’t offer my friend some kind of life-altering truth that day. This wasn’t the conversation for that. It was the conversation to remind her that I see her. I know her. I love her. I value her. It was the conversation to honor her story and her history. It was the conversation to remind myself that this—these moments, these conversations, these opportunities—are ways we get to build the Kingdom of God. 

So here’s what I want you to do. I want you to call a friend. I want you to go out for coffee. I want you to sit down, to listen, to ask good questions. I want you to remind the people in your life that you see them, you know them, you value them, and you love them. I want you to honor them—their story, their family, their joys, and their pains. And I want you to say those beautiful, kind words. “I get it. I’ve been there too, and I’m with you now.” 

Because sometimes these are the best ways we can love those around us. 

The post When Interruptions Become Moments of Doing Life Together appeared first on Kate Berkey.

The post On Moving Halfway Across the World appeared first on Kate Berkey.

But then we meet someone who cherishes those moments, those details, and our mind-set has a chance to change.

I met Ashley Rudd two years ago. I’d like to think that I would have gotten to know her even if she wasn’t the PA on my floor, but as an unsure freshman, I guess I thought I needed an excuse to talk to someone new. Anyone who spends time with Ashley knows what friendship looks like. That person walks away cared for and loved because Ashley cares about the little things.

“I’m passionate about talking to people and getting to know them deeper,” she told me once.

It’s not world hunger. It’s not poverty. And that’s OK because she’s passionate about connection, about knowing and helping those whose passions lead them to far off places. Her favorite moments in a day are the little interactions with people, the ones that go to a deeper level, the ones that grow an acquaintance into a dear friend.

She also loves waking up.

She might be the only college student who would say something like that. But when the day is brand new, everything is fresh. It’s a chance for her to refocus, to think about the day ahead and to face it with a new attitude. She walks throughout the day with this on the forefront of her mind. That’s not to say that she’s a perfect human being, that she’s got life all figured out.

She just has a different perspective than most. While many people skip the details, she dives into them. I once asked her what she would do on a Saturday if she had no obligations. She described it all. She told me what she would do in the morning, in the afternoon, in the evening. In case you wondered, it included traveling to Italy and somehow making it back to the US in time for sunset walk.

She amazes me.

Because she doesn’t have it all together. She doesn’t have life figured out, and she feels that the most misunderstood part of her goes back to this.

“Most people see me as happy or really friendly all the time, but in reality, I’m self-critical and over analyzing everything. Most people think I have it all together, but they don’t see all the crap going on,” she said.

I live with sixty girls who could probably resonate with that statement. Yet, in the midst of it, Ashley lives courageously. She dives deep with others. She’s trying to figure out how to live vulnerably with those closest to her, how to invite them into the mess that is her life.

And that’s what I love about her.

She doesn’t pretend to have everything together. She doesn’t act like her life is perfect. She’s great at inviting people into the parts of her life that need a little cleaning up, and she’s great at being with me in the middle of my messes.

So here’s to Ashley, the girl of details. The one who is afraid of making the wrong decision, yet constantly makes the most courageous ones. The one who loves to communicate with others, loves to dive deep with them. The one with beautiful messes.

The post The Details: Ashley Rudd appeared first on Kate Berkey.

“Iowa, 75% vowels, 100% awesome.”

“Is this heaven? No, it’s just Iowa.”

And she’s quick to remind her friends that the truest form of English can be found in Iowa. I highly disagree, but then we get into arguments about the proper way to pronounce Reese’s and we digress. Also, I don’t know how many times I’ve seen pictures of the Butter Cow from the Iowa State Fair or pictures of her friend’s chicken who was apparently the best chicken in the whole state, but I love it. I love it because it’s a part of who she is. It’s a part of her story.

Here’s the beauty of Anna’s story: It’s messy. It’s full of ups and downs. It’s full of times of celebration and times of mourning. It’s normal in every sense of the word. But at the same time, it’s extraordinary.

Every relationship is littered with moments that will never be forgotten. For Anna and I one of those moments happened her freshman year. I was a sophomore and a leader on the floor. It was only a month into school so my interactions with her had been brief. We were still trying to get to know each other. She was new and going through the shock of college. And in the midst of this, her grandmother passed away. I still remember the night she walked into my room. I was insanely excited to see her because it was a secret goal of mine to be her best friend.

“Heyyyyy buddy!” I remember shouting.

And then I saw the tears trailing down her cheeks.

That night a foundation was laid on our friendship. A stake was drilled into her story. That night marked the beginning of a long and incredibly challenging freshman year. What I appreciated most about Anna last year was her authenticity. Surrounded by Christians, I began to feel that I was living in a very inauthentic place. In my mind, there was no way 2,000+ students could be this perfect all the time. Anna reminded me that it’s OK to be a mess. In fact, it’s an honest way to live because 90% of our days go by, and they are messy. Anna will tell you that she’s a messy person. Her story is not perfect. It’s got a lot of crap in it. But it’s her story. It’s the one God has given her.

Her story is one of intense grief. After losing her grandmother, she spent the next eight months separated from her family. Not only did she have to sort through the pain of loss, but she also had to carry on with life. This is normal in any life event. But she did it separated from those who knew her best. In this new world of Upland, Indiana, she had lost all of the people who truly knew her, who truly understood her.

She had to learn what it meant to be real with people she barely knew. She had to learn how to make friends when all she wanted to do was go home. All of a sudden, the complexity of freshman year of college got worse.

Through it all, though, Anna reminded me then, and still reminds me now, to love. A common phrase from Anna is “Love me.” This is usually said as she attacks me with a hug. I’m not a hugger. I’ll give you a million high fives, though. But Anna hugs. Anna loves. She sees past her needs to love those around her. She loves with joy. She doesn’t merely throw out the word. She shows it through her actions. She loves fearlessly. She loves endlessly.

And she’s reminded me to laugh. She’s taught me appreciate those little things that happen in a day that are weird and awkward. She’s taught me to sing at the top of my lungs while also singing with a southern accent. She’s taught me the beauty of looking like a fool.

When I think of Anna, I think of determination. I think of perseverance. I think of doing hard things. Because of all the freshmen I’ve ever known, she had the worst first year, and she had to go through it eight hours away from her family and friends. It was a year of tears. It was a year of tough times. But she persevered. She continued on. Because of who she is, she is impacting the lives of those she comes in contact with. It is impossible to walk away from an interaction with her and not feel loved and cared for.

She listens well.

She loves well.

She thinks Iowa is the best state, but I try not to hold that against her.

The post Lessons Through Her Story Anna Lothe appeared first on Kate Berkey.

Those everyday ordinary moments

This is a phrase that captivates my attention. Some people see it as the mundane. Some see it as boring, not worth capturing.

I see it as beautiful, inspiring. I see it as captivating and intoxicating.  Because it is in the everyday ordinary that we live our lives. Our days are composed of the little things. These days form our weeks, our months, our years. They shape our stories. And I love stories.

Enter new blog series.

Everyone has a story. Everyone is made up of a million everyday ordinaries that form an extraordinary life. And I want to share those stories. Let me be the first to say that I’m not trying to recreate Humans of New York. I’m simply trying to create a space where our stories can be told. When I think about what drives me, I always come back to stories. I’ve always loved them. As a kid, I spent my days making up stories. As a teenager, I learned to write them down. Now as a college student, I’m finding that the stories that drive me aren’t the ones that are made up. I love hearing people share their stories, their raw, true stories. I love learning about people, learning about them on a deeper level.

So I want to share stories with you. I want to introduce you to average looking people and remind you that people’s stories matter. They’re

bigger, deeper, more interesting than we could ever imagine. Because people don’t wake up one day and find themselves in their current state. Their stories are a journey. Often we don’t take the time to appreciate this journey or share it with others.

So come along with me. Discover people’s stories. Dive into the everyday ordinary and uncover the extraordinary that hides in those moments.

The post The Everyday Ordinary appeared first on Kate Berkey.