Kaity Kasper


Posts in the road home
Check, One, Two . . .

Is this thing on?

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I needed some time.  Some space.  I had to learn the hard way that when you take to painting your emotions all over the internet – when you crack your heart wide open and provide whoever wishes one an inside view at the goriest year of your life – you can create a false sense of intimacy and a level of expectation that you weren’t really planning on. 

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In The Meantime

“So what did you do this weekend?”

I had two issues with answering this question honestly.  First, we were tucked in the middle of a crowded coffee shop and I wasn’t sure how prepared I was to be overheard on the subject of how I spent my weekend.  Second, the friend asking the question was not only a new friend, but a pastor too.  I was treading into completely new territory with him, and I wasn’t entirely sure how the honest answer would go over.

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“You have been through an initiation, a burning down,” she tells me again from her perch in the corner of the sacred space we are gathered in.  My body feels full, for lack of a better word.  Plump.  Not in an uncomfortable way, but in the way I imagine a water balloon that has been given just the right amount of water must feel.  And I nod.  Because this is quite possibly the perfect word for this last year.


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I have been baptized four times in my life.

The first time was in the Catholic Church.  I was under a year old and I don’t remember much about it.  I’ve seen the white gown I wore and a handful of pictures of my dad with incredible sideburns and a brown corduroy sport coat.  But I don’t remember the water or if there was music or what it was that my godparents (who I also don’t remember) promised to do. 

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Healing Trip #3 - Big Sky, Montana

“Its like I had to come here for it to start to heal,” I tell him, his hands on my shoulders, eyes locked on mine.  “Like my heart broke into millions of tiny pieces and I had to come here for it to figure out how to mend, because as it mends its going to be bigger.  And there is only enough room for it to heal so big in a place like this, with so much room.”

I paused my run-on-sentence-verbal-vomit long enough to take a half-second breath before finally asking him, “Does that make sense?”

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