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I Don’t Know What Tomorrow Will Bring, But . . .

I Don’t Know What Tomorrow Will Bring, But . . .

by Kaitlyn Bouchillon | Jul 31, 2020 | (in)courage, Devotional, Even If Not, Faith, Faithful, My Health Story

My hands hover over the keyboard. I don’t want to write this post. I don’t really want to write any post at all, actually, even though my mind is constantly writing sentences and storylines throughout the day. Part of me wants to blame it on the pandemic, and while...
Darkness Doesn’t Get the Final Say

Darkness Doesn’t Get the Final Say

by Kaitlyn Bouchillon | Aug 3, 2019 | (in)courage, Devotional, Faith, My Health Story

Nine years ago, at the age of seventeen, I had brain surgery to remove a tumor the size of a golf ball. For months, sickness snuck up on me in the early morning hours and hung on until night fell and sleep took over. No matter who we spoke with or what we tried, there...
heal the wound… but leave the scar

heal the wound… but leave the scar

by Kaitlyn Bouchillon | Dec 7, 2016 | Brave, Broken and Raw, Even If Not, Faith, My Health Story

“I wonder if she’ll notice…” There’s a long scar straight down the back of my head, reaching up from the base of my neck. Last week I sat in a black swivel chair, my face reflecting back to me in the mirror as a kind and friendly stranger...
Life After a Brain Tumor: Glorious Uncertainty

Life After a Brain Tumor: Glorious Uncertainty

by Kaitlyn Bouchillon | Jul 6, 2016 | Broken and Raw, Faith, My Health Story

It’s 10:46pm on July 5, 2016 and I’m crying at a blank page. There is so much to say and somehow it feels like I’ve written every single line before. It also feels brand new. There’s nothing new to say under the sun and we’ve gone around...
When the Answer to Your Prayers Is a Brain Tumor

When the Answer to Your Prayers Is a Brain Tumor

by Kaitlyn Bouchillon | Jun 30, 2016 | Faith, My Health Story

Everything changed six years ago. After months of praying for answers, we got them. Five months of sickness, questions, doubts and frustrations came together mid-morning on the last day of June. The nurse led us from the waiting room to the one room I had seen but...
When You’re Waiting for God to Heal You

When You’re Waiting for God to Heal You

by Kaitlyn Bouchillon | Feb 18, 2016 | Books, Even If Not, My Health Story

This post is an excerpt from Even If Not: Living, Loving, and Learning in the in Between.   I never would have written a brain tumor into my story but I would never wish to write it out. It was a part of me and now it is a part of my story, one I never expected...
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A book for the broken hopefuls… Even If Not: Living, Loving, and Learning in the in Between

Even If Not: Living, Loving and Learning in the in Between

kaitlyn_bouch

📚Author of #EvenIfNotBook
✏️Writer: kaitlynbouchillon.com
☕️Lover of iced coffee
💻Virtual Assistant
🤍 giveaway 🤍 In June of 2019, the (in)courag 🤍 giveaway 🤍 In June of 2019, the (in)courage contributors sat around a large room and called out the things we’ve struggled with but also sometimes struggle to talk about. Grief, anxiety, miscarriages, singleness, friendships falling apart, death, depression, cancer, infertility and the list goes on and on…⁣⁣ ⁣ And then we said we'd write about each one. We'd pray and beg God for words that would walk alongside another, not to slap on a happy ending but to say "I've been there too" or "I'm with you in it right this minute."⁣⁣ ⁣ It felt like a holy weight fell on the room. And, at the same time, a holy hope.⁣⁣ ⁣ I sat on the floor next to Aliza, our backs against the wall, watching Joy hurry to capture each word or phrase, and realized we were about to write, together, the book we each needed. Little did we know just how much we'd ALL need it in 2020.⁣⁣ ⁣ This is not a devotional that skims the surface. It isn’t all sunshine and rainbows. There’s no fluff here, and you won’t find a neat and tidy bow to wrap it all up. But there is hope. A whole lot of hope.⁣⁣ ⁣ I’m really grateful to be a small part of it.⁣⁣ ⁣ GIVEAWAY (UPDATE 🎉 now closed... Congratulations to the randomly selected winner, @shibberly.) 👉🏻 Enter however you prefer. Pick one or pick them all — up to you! I’ll compile all the comments and shares, then randomly select a winner to receive 3 copies of #TakeHeartBook (1 to keep + 2 to share with friends who may need a little extra encouragement).⁣⁣ ⁣ 1️⃣ comment with a heart emoji⁣⁣ 2️⃣ tag two friends⁣ 3️⃣ share the giveaway to your IG Stories⁣⁣ ⁣ P.S. There’s a ‘Take heart’ lock screen in my Stories today, if you want to download for your phone!⁣⁣ ⁣ ♥️ Giveaway closes at 2pm CST tomorrow (Thursday). Winner will be announced on Stories and in this caption.⁣⁣⁣⁣ ♥️ This is in no way affiliated with or sponsored by Instagram or Facebook.
(part 2 of 2) I wish that I could say things chang (part 2 of 2) I wish that I could say things changed in an instant. Or that the doctor called the next day with an answer. Or that the prescription worked its magic and everything is totally fine. Unfortunately, I can’t. I have zero answers and even more questions than before, because two other weird (related? who knows) things have happened since.⁣⁣ ⁣ My hand still hurts. It isn’t back to normal. But it IS better… like the fire is under control.⁣⁣ ⁣ I’ve made a plan for what I’ll do if it gets worse, but since we don’t know why it started or why it seems to (thankfully!) be slowly shifting back to how it was before, I’m just… waiting. For now, outside the waiting room.⁣⁣ ⁣ So, I can’t tell you everything is fine. But I can truthfully say that I am. (Most of the time. 😉) There wasn’t an audible answer to my prayer, but something did happen on the way home and you can laugh, but I’m calling it a miracle. It isn't the one I wanted, but it's the one I needed. God didn't instantly heal my hand... instead, He reminded me He was holding it all along.⁣⁣ ⁣ Like the fire that came out of no where, a tune I haven’t thought of in years popped into my head. It took a minute to recognize, but as soon as I did I knew it was God's response to my parking lot prayer. The song is by @ChristyNockels and it's called, wait for it, "Healing Is in Your Hands."⁣⁣ ⁣ Of course it is. (Swipe for the lyrics.)⁣⁣ ⁣ There's a fire, but there's also a gentle whisper in response: "⁣You're right. I was there then and I know this feels surprisingly familiar. But I'm also here now. I'm familiar too."⁣⁣ ⁣ This summer I celebrated 10 years brain tumor free. I stood at the water's edge and thanked Him for being as faithful as the sunrise, as sure as the waves that come and come and come again.⁣⁣ ⁣ He might heal, and I sure hope He does. (I would love if you'd join me in praying for that. 💛) But I need Him a lot more than I need a miracle. #evenifnotbook Either way, He's good. And so either way, I'm okay.
(part 1 of 2) I’ve put off writing an update on (part 1 of 2) I’ve put off writing an update on the picture from the waiting room… partially because I kept hoping for an answer and also because I don’t know how to put this into words that make sense.⁣ ⁣ A few months ago, my left hand felt like it was on fire. One minute I was sitting on the couch reading a book, the next I was looking down at my hand expecting it to be fire engine red. My hand swelled up, two fingers were numb (but could still move), and as the burning got worse over time, I could barely write or do my job.⁣ ⁣ I made an appointment and got scans and paid the monies. I sat in a waiting room praying for the fires ravaging California and the one that felt like it was right beneath my skin.⁣ ⁣ The head of the orthopedic practice said it didn’t add up, that he didn’t know what was happening. I left with a “maybe this will help?” prescription, got in my car, held my burning hand in my lap, and cried.⁣ ⁣ It just felt so unexpectedly familiar. And that's the part that got me. I honestly wasn't afraid or even worried. There was frustration but mostly I felt, well, helpless.⁣ ⁣ I've had 4 surgeries. I can deal with the unknown and handle a difficult diagnosis. But the "something is wrong but we have no idea what"... I haven't heard that since my brain tumor, since another "maybe this will help?" prescription (it was misdiagnosed) and several months when things weren't okay.⁣ ⁣ So I sat in the parking lot with tears streaming down my face and said: "God, what now? When the ones who should know don't know, what in the world do I do next? Something is wrong, God. My body is breaking and I'm not okay. You were there… You know I've heard this before. This feels like another in a long line of "even if nots" and I'm so tired. (long pause, deep sigh) I do still believe it. And I'll keep saying that You're good even if You don't heal how I want You to. But please… please, would You?”⁣ ⁣ (more tomorrow 💛) #evenifnotbook
This feels like the smallest thing, and maybe it’s actually really silly, but I could use it myself so I’m just going to say it:⁣ ⁣ 🤍 If you need a permission slip to take a deep breath, this is it.⁣ ⁣ 🤍 If you need someone to say you’re going to make it, here I am.⁣ ⁣ 🤍 If your response to the many messages of “make the most of this time” and “chase your dreams while you have free time” is to say ‘WHAT FREE TIME?’… I get it.⁣ ⁣ 🤍 If doing even the small and simple things takes 3 times as long as it used to, I’m with you.⁣ ⁣ You know the feeling of driving through a crazy storm, rain pelting your car as you drive through the dark, your shoulders scrunching up as you reach to turn off the radio? (So you can see better, of course, because somehow that makes sense in the chaos.)⁣ ⁣ We’ve been trying to navigate a storm for months now. Our shoulders carry the weight, our eyes are strained, our bodies are tired.⁣ ⁣ So maybe you don’t need to Do Big Things right now. Maybe you need to pull over to a safe place and rest a while. Maybe you just need to breathe and keep your eyes on the road. Maybe that is the Big Thing.⁣ ⁣ The winds will calm and the storm will pass. The rain that falls will nourish the ground and one day, something good will grow out of these days. Morning will come and with it, new mercies. But first: a sunset reset. A deep breath. This is your permission slip. You’re making it. You’re showing up. You’re doing a really good job in the middle of a really hard thing. You’re holding onto hope. Eyes on the road, friend. One mile at a time.
It’s the “still” that gets me. 😭♥️⁣ It’s the “still” that gets me. 😭♥️⁣ ⁣ After 10 weeks studying Hebrews (it’s officially one of my favorite books), my Bible Study read through the final words this week. I’m bummed (I don’t want it to be over) and challenged (because hello, Hebrews) and also HOPEFUL. Because all of it points to this: Jesus is better.⁣ ⁣ Better than any person. Any leader. Any system. Any tradition.⁣ ⁣ The letter ends with a call to love one another as siblings would, to treat kindly those who are struggling, to recognize discipline, and to believe even when we don’t yet fully see. The author is clear, we’re going to need endurance because a shaking is coming. But then, this: we belong to a Kingdom that cannot be shaken (12:28).⁣ ⁣ I’m extra grateful for that reminder right about now. No matter our today or our tomorrows, no matter the dumpster fires, the debates or the results… We have not been — and will not be — abandoned by the One is who is ultimately better (13:5-8).⁣ ⁣ And so, “still.” Even here. Even now. This world is shaking but chaos doesn’t get the final say.⁣ ⁣ P.S. Hebrews is far from a “get out of caring” card. Like Jeremiah 29:11, it’s beautiful and it’ll hold fast. But the very same people who hear the promise are told in 29:7 to build houses and plant gardens while in exile. In other words… settle in and “pursue the well-being of the city.” Hebrews says the same. We’re not yet home and there’s work to be done, peace to pursue. But even here, remember: we have a hope that is an anchor in every storm (6:19). We have a reason to say “still.”⁣ ⁣ ✍🏻 lettering: @brittfrannymaher
“God is not a technician. God is an Artist. This “God is not a technician. God is an Artist. This is the God who made you. The same God who lives inside of you. He comes into us, then comes out of us, in a million little ways. That’s why there’s freedom, even in the blah. Hope, even in the dark. Love, even in the fear. Trust, even as we face our critics. And believing in the midst of all that? It feels like strength and depth and wildflower spinning; it feels risky and brave and underdog winning. It feels like redemption. It feels like art.” ― @EmilyPFreeman⁣ ⁣ I think about this as the sun begins to set. I reach for my embroidery hoop, settle into the chair by the window, and pull the thread through as God paints the sky.⁣ ⁣ I think of how the Bible opens with a beautiful, creative calling forth. “God said . . . and it was so.” Both the Old Testament and the New Testament agree, we were made in God’s image (Gen. 1:27) and declared His handiwork (Eph. 2:10).⁣ ⁣ If God as an artist made you, then that makes you living, breathing art. Art that smiles and sings, wipes away tears and cooks dinner, tells stories and runs errands. Art that bleeds, art with wrinkles, art with kind eyes and laugh lines.⁣ ⁣ So yes, you’re an artist. It’s what you do or make. It’s how you live. But also, YOU are art. It’s a glorious both/and. And it’s true.
I’m not ready to say much about this waiting roo I’m not ready to say much about this waiting room picture. There’s a lot I don’t know. But I do know this: A whole lot of life feels like one long waiting room, and I just don’t think that’s a mistake. The Church calendar celebrates Advent and Lent and Easter… and also this thing called Ordinary Time that stretches for months on end.⁣ ⁣ We don’t talk about that “season” very often, but it’s the one we live in most of the time (we're in it right now). And yeah, it’s one long in-between that comes around and sticks around every year.⁣ ⁣ I sat in a waiting room this week, and then I went to Bible Study to discuss Hebrews 11. The whole chapter points toward Home and it’s an actual gut-punch to read a dozen well-known names in Scripture, all these humans who were so very human but also did “big” things aka kept the faith, and then see it declare not one of them received the full promise.⁣ ⁣ They could see it in the distance and every single promise was kept. But while they were here, they held onto hope even when it hurt, they chose obedience in their ordinary days, and they waited with faith because they “considered Him faithful who had made the promise.”⁣ ⁣ It sounds nice written out, but we all know it’s harder to live out. And yet because they did, because this is our spiritual lineage and our faith genealogy, we’re here today. We may not get to see the promise, but my word I hope it can be said of our generation that we waited well.⁣ ⁣ Today's trouble is enough for today... But so is God. Maybe it’s a cliché, but it’s also true. Tomorrow is both a mystery and a gift. Whatever it may bring, God will be there and He will be enough. Our waiting will not be wasted, but He’s with us in this room too. Drawing closer even now, coming to walk us all Home.⁣ ⁣ He who has promised is faithful.⁣ ⁣ #beautifulordinarynow #kaitlynsees2020 #evenifnotbook #hebrews11
Right before graduating college, I held on tightly Right before graduating college, I held on tightly to these words: “The seasons change and you change, but the Lord abides evermore the same, and the streams His love are as deep, as broad and as full as ever.” — Charles Spurgeon⁣⁣ ⁣⁣ I wrote that out just now from memory, not because I ever meant to memorize it but because I’ve continued to come back to it through the changing of the literal seasons and the ones in my life, too.⁣⁣ ⁣⁣ Give us a few more weeks and we’ll break out sweaters and boots here in Alabama, ignoring that Summer Round Two will remain in full-swing until November when the temperature falls and the leaves blaze glory before they fall, too.⁣⁣ ⁣⁣ Creation, falling like clockwork.⁣⁣ ⁣⁣ Today, it’s just a hint. Just two leaves that were practically shouting along the trail in between the green and green and more green.⁣⁣ ⁣⁣ Maybe it isn’t much. But it’s enough. All of *waves hands around * this will change like the seasons. We may have a new and blurry normal, but this is not our forever. There’s One who knows the end date, One quite familiar with the Light at the end of the tunnel.⁣⁣ ⁣⁣ And even if not? Even if the leaves fall and we fall apart and winter settles in? It may last long and it may get dark, but there will be life on the other side, roots growing deep in the silence. Creation will lead the way. And so today, I hold two leaves between two fingers and try to fix my eyes on something I can’t yet see in it’s fullness. I snap a picture in faith that it’ll one day be proof I was actually holding tightly to a promise.⁣⁣ ⁣⁣ #kaitlynsees2020 #evenifnotbook #beautifulordinarynow
It’s the sound of tires crunching gravel as the It’s the sound of tires crunching gravel as the car pulls away from the cemetery, the ground freshly watered with tears.⁣⁣ ⁣ It sounds like a creaking staircase from choosing to stay when going would be easier, the zip of a suitcase when the opposite is true.⁣⁣ ⁣ It’s the sound of glasses clinking not for a toast but while washing the dishes, an ordinary moment made extraordinary when seen through a lens of gratitude. (Even though doing the dishes is arguably the very worst.)⁣⁣ ⁣ It sounds like asking for help, like trying again, like “I’m sorry” and “hi it’s nice to meet you.”⁣⁣ ⁣ I used to think courage was mostly big and loud, but I’m finding it often shows up sounding like a small, gentle whisper.⁣⁣ ⁣ @emilypfreeman recently asked “What does courage sound like?” Nearly every answer that comes to mind leans toward the quiet and seemingly unseen, the moments and decisions that aren’t posted on this big and also loud thing we call the internet. Courage can shout and roar, and sometimes it does, but courage can also be the sound of silence. Maybe, more often than not, the small and quiet things are actually the big things that speak volumes.⁣ ⁣ How would you answer? What does courage sound like to you? (Thank you for asking this beautiful question, Emily.)⁣ ⁣ #BeautifulOrdinaryNow #TheNextRightThing
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