God Knows Best (Trust Me)

This past spring I had to buy four new tires. It was frustrating to me. In total, I had to spend upwards of $500. I decided that I could do more to save up the money that I had spent, so I took another job. I did not consult God in this. Honestly it didn't even cross my mind to, I just was worried about replacing that money as soon as possible.

So I accepted the offer of working in a store part time this past May. And I really loved it. I loved working in retail again; I loved having a job that made me work hard and sweat a lot. I loved the people I worked with, the product I sold and just being back in a retail setting.

All was going well, but I began to notice that I was constantly tired. Not just kind of sleepy, but couldn't keep my eyes open to save my life exhausted. I began to decline offers of going to social activities. I began to withdraw from all aspects of life except for work and sleep. I've always struggled to spend time in the Word. I love it when I do it, but I lack in the discipline. And I found that my time with God went from so-so to non-existent. I somehow kept justifying it in my head with my one goal: $500. The ridiculous part was that at minimum hours and minimum wage, I wasn't coming anywhere near that amount of money. I barely saw my family, even though I live with them! But somehow I stayed convinced that this was the right thing for me to be doing.

God is merciful and gracious.

Every year the church I'm involved in goes away together for a weekend. This year was no exception. While at the OCM Conference this year, God spoke so clearly and wonderfully (as He does). These are two prophetic words that came back to back this year that I knew they were for me:

“Do you hear me? My child, yes you, do you hear me my child? I have not called you to a moment in a meeting, I have called you to a lifetime of repentance. I have not called you to a moment in a meeting, I have called you to a lifetime of death. Do you hear me my child? I have not called you to a moment in a meeting, I have called you to a lifetime of picking up your cross. And you, yes you, the one who is so busy, the devils tactics of busyness have taken over your life. Yes you, listen, I am speaking to you—so busy you don't have time for me, filled your life up with so many things. And you have hidden from me behind your busyness. Examine your life. Not a moment, don't just take this moment, examine your life... ...See I have not called you for a moment in a meeting, I have called you to examine yourself for a lifetime—to allow my strength to surge through you, purify you, to touch every area, even the dark and hidden ones, every area. See I have a plan for you that is going to take so much more, but is going to be worth every moment of deciding to lay your life down. Every moment of death you give me, I'll breathe my life into you.”

And then this word came immediately following:

“For radical people make radical decisions. For you are not radical by association. You are not radical merely because you belong to a church that is radical. You are radical because everyday you wake up, and you make a decision to follow me, says the Lord. A radical people make radical, daily decisions. Not impulsive and foolish, but in faith—being sure of what you hope for and certain of what you do not see. I am calling you to walk in boldness and grace. For as I just said I am calling you, and I call you today, this day, and all the days of your life to live a life of radical decisions. And know this, that every time you make a decision, to not follow the ways of this word, every time that you trade the ways of this world you gain me says the Lord. And I meet you in fullness and in power and grace, for I'll meet you right now in this place and I'll fill you with faith and I'll fill you with grace to make a decision for me says the Lord.”

I found myself standing there, arms up, tears streaming down my face in repentance. I knew I had been wrong to take a second job. I decided right then and there to quit the part time job when I got back home.

Except I didn't.

After I got back, I continued to go to my second job, and I just loved it so much I thought surely it couldn't be a bad thing for me. So I didn't quit. And I still loved it. Up until this past Friday it was great.

But God is a patient God. And He is jealous for me.

Suddenly on Friday I found myself in such a state of physical, mental and emotional exhaustion that the mere thought of going to work at the store sent me into an all out breakdown. I was on call that night and when I called, certain that I wouldn't have to go in, they said they needed me. After I hung up, I was ruined. I all out cried for about half an hour until my brother called me down for dinner. I went to the table like that and cried in my tacos. Luke and Heather kept saying things like, “Why are you doing this? You need to quit. God told you to quit and you didn't do it. You need to quit Sarah.” All of which I knew were true.


So, I quit.

And it was horrible.

I am not proud to tell you this, but I did not give a notice. I just quit. I have never done that before and I don't plan on ever doing it again. But I had to quit that job for my sanity and physical health. I was beyond wrecked. I had been working 13-15 hour days and barely sleeping because I was so wound up when I'd get home I'd just lay in my bed for hours.

But I'll tell you what, it didn't matter how awful it was to just quit a job that I loved and have to tell a boss that I loved and leave coworkers that I loved, because once I left that store and got into my car to go home, the most amazing sense of peace fell over me.

I knew that I had done the right thing.

I spent a good chunk of that night and the next day (yesterday) repenting and with Him.

And He is wonderful to me.

All this to say—when God tells you to do something, do it. Everyone will be better off for it! He truly does know what He's doing and he truly does have your best at heart.

Testing a Theory

I like to be in control.  I'd venture to say that you probably like to be in control too.

I can spend so much time attempting to keep all the plates spinning while holding all the reigns.  The funny thing about control for me personally, is that it's an all or nothing thing.  Once I start slipping in my control of say, keeping the bathroom clean, I'm more likely to say "screw it" than try to hop back on the horse. 

Defeatism at it's best.

Not-good-enough-ism at it's worst.

Because lets face it, once you're defeated all the lies start coming in of how you're not good enough, strong enough, smart enough, stable enough, disciplined enough or whatever enough to stay in control.

Not being in control can cause huge amounts of anxiety in my life.  I like to be the one driving.  I like to know where things are.  I like to be in charge.

The problem comes when when I (inevitably as we all do) lose control.  I am not the one in charge.

And yet in the moments of losing the control, I find I am the most in tune with myself.  I am forced to grow in the face of a challenge.  (The time I missed a connecting flight and was stuck for 10 hours in San Fransisco alone comes to mind)  And those are the times of my life that I look back on as some of the best.

Some might call me bossy, others might say I can be overbearing and to others I might seem lazy.  But the truth is that at every point I am flailing around trying to be in control. 

This is not fun.

Therefore, I am going to test this by giving up control.

Yes.  This summer, I, Sarah Elizabeth Freeborn, am relinquishing control.

Scary.

Exhilirating.

31 Day Challenge

I read a interesting article this week.  It was about these women who made one small change in their every day lives for 31 days.  One woman did push ups for one minute a day, another wore a dress/skirt every day, for 31 days. 

I've decided to try it out myself.  31 days.  Not too overwhelming, but enought to form a habit and see change.  I've decided to walk to 80th Street and back every day.  That's a total of 8 blocks.  It only takes 10-15 minutes, so it shouldn't be hard to do every day. 

Rain or shine.

You can click to read the article here.

If you decide to do it too, leave me a comment and let me know what you're going to do for the next 31 days!

Ketchup

I have lost my stride.  I was doing so well too!  I'm going to try and catch up this week by posting 3 (yes, three!) times.

And yes, I am counting this as one entry, because it's my blog and I can do what I want!  haha

Grampa Freeborn

My dad's dad died Sunday night (3/20/11).

I can count on one hand the number of times I've met him in my life.  Yet I feel so sorrowful.  I was fine all day on Monday, but this morning at work I was near tears the entire morning.  Finally I went in my boss' office just to hash it out and get on with the day.  When I walked in she immediately asked me if I was okay.  I burst in to tears and couldn't get ahold of myself.  After I was sobbing in her office for about 10 minutes, she said I should just go home; take a bereavement day.  I told her that wouldn't be necessary but then after about 5 more minutes of still not being able to get my emotions under control I agreed and left.  I was that girl you sometimes see driving who's a crying wreck and you wonder what happened.

I'm not exactly sure what was going on, but I do think I mostly just feel sad that I never really knew him.  I (obviously) have 4 grandparents.  Over the course of my life I have actually had 12 (from stepdad's parents, grandparents remarrying, great-grandparents).  And while statistically that seems great, I have only really known one of them.  


My Grama (Dorlene) Freeborn died when I was just a kid, I don't even remember how old I was.  I only remember meeting her one time.  My dad, mom and two younger brothers drove one summer all the way down to San Antonio, TX from Kenosha, WI in our VW Rabbit.  I met her down there.  She carried a pan of potatoes into my cousin Hannah's house and that's the only image I have of her in my mind.  She just keeps carrying that pan of potatoes through my memories.

My Grampa (John) Brandt I knew a bit more, but not too much.  He struggled as an alcoholic and about half of my few childhood memories involved him drinking too much.  The other half involve him just being a silly grampa.  Then when I was 8 or 9 he was diagnosed with Alzheimer's and he just slipped away.  By the time I was 14 he was totally gone and had to put into the care of a nursing home.  I'd go see him occasionally, but he was only a body in that bed.  He died not too long ago (3 years?  4?).  And while that was sad, it is true what they say that Alzheimer's patients die two deaths; and I had come to terms with him being gone a long time before he physically died.

My Grama (Phyllis) Brandt is still alive and well.  And she's the only one I really know.  

So that brings us to Grampa (J. Andrew) Freeborn.

He led a hard life.  He also led a wonderful life.  He knew the Lord very well.  He was a traveling preacher and would lead tent revivals all over the south when my dad was a kid.  He also struggled with being bipolar his entire life.  He wasn't even diagnosed until his thirties, but after that he spent many years in and out of psychiatric hospitals trying to stabilize himself.  After my Grama Freeborn died he remarried a lady I really loved as a grama named Arlene.  I'm not sure what happened, but they ended up divorcing.  He then married Geraldine.  And Grama Gerry is lovely.  She can also bake the best things of anyone in the south.  He founded a church in northern California, pastored numerous churches throughout his lifetime, taught at the International Bible College in San Antonio, and I'm sure did much more than I know of.

I suppose what really got me was all the comments people have been leaving on my dad's Facebook profile.  Here are some of my favorites, typos and all:

God bless you and your family, Michael. Your dad touched so many lives for the kingdom. I join with them in expressing my gratitude for such a man and for the season he spoke into my life.

Michael - We have appreciated your family very much. The practical application of the word was of the highest importance to your dad, and it has had a lasting impact on us. We bless your family today.

This is like the passing of an era. As long as I have had memory, Andrew was a part of it. We loved and respected his ministry and as a person. We were privileged to enjoy his company for a few months out of his life and he was like a brother. Our hearts are heavy this morning, but oh what a wonderful day for Andrew. All that he has loved, he has now obtained. Our love and prayers will be with you and the family. Please give Geri our best.

Michael and the family, As you know your mom and dad had a great deal to do with our early lives in ministry, when we were getting ready to go to Mexico, etc. They were always a blessing. I am sorry to hear of his passing, but I also know that he is happy in the presence of the Lord! How he must be rejoicing. We love all of you.

michael, i am so sorry to hear such sad news. our thoughts go with you as you travel...your dad was a good man, and dave came to the Lord under your dad's ministry. may you be comforted in Jesus...

Michael. I'm sitting here with tears running down, thinking about you and the family, lots of good memories of your precious dad and mom, knowing your pain, but, rejoicing in the Lord just knowing ....WONT' WE HAVE A TIME WHEN WE GET OVER YONDER. lots of prayers are coming your way. love you much!!!

We will never forget your Father; I always enjoyed his preaching when I had the privilidge to hear him. Heaven has welcomed a hero!

He has left a footprint on the lives of thousands and may we be stirred to follow his example.

Michael, sending condolences to you and your family. I remember classes with your dad (and "Queens of the Parsonage" with your mother). His class on "Names of God" was one of my favorites. It was your dad who encouraged me to to a 4th year to IBC. He was certainly a blessing to me…and I'm sure, to many others, as well.

so sorry about that....a great church pillar....

Michael--your Dad left a legacy that can only be measured in heaven. 

Sorry to hear that Mike, There is a lot of respect for him here.

Such fond memories of your Dad and Mom at Northern District, CA youth camps (including all you kids with them) - can't ever remember you kids not being with them on their annual trek to our camps. Your Dad was morning teacher and your Mom was camp nurse and all the influence they had with so many of us involved. We were so blessed by his ministry! The Lord comfort you and your family is our prayer.

I am sorry Michael. My mom told me the news yesterday. Your dad (and mom) are part of some of the earliest memories of my life! They were kinda like "superstars"! :D Feel comfort in the fact that so many people have felt loved by them and, in turn, we will not forget!

In reading these comments from strangers, I can't help but feel that I missed knowing an amazing man.  It's a strange thing grieving for someone you never knew.  And even though I never knew him in this lifetime, I know I'll have all of eternity to dance and shout with him.

Writing Exercise

Today at my writer's group we did a writing exercise, as we normally do, however I liked my outcome a lot, so I will share it.

The exercise was this:  choose two of the 24 fine point sharpies.  With the first color you must create a character, with the second a scenario to place the character in.

My colors were a deep purple and a very light baby blue color.

Here is my story.

***

Valerie is an old soul. She loves coffee (black) and oversized sweaters (olive green). She has long dark brown hair that often gets mistaken for black. She can often be found in at her local coffee shop sitting with her feet swung over the edge of the big red chair, tortoise shell glasses on the edge of her nose, book in hand. Even though she spends her days working in a local bookstore, she cannot get enough of them and spends the majority of her free time reading. She prefers Austen to Steinbeck, Keats to Cummings. She is a romantic at heart. She is not afraid to go for walks on rainy days, as her soft brown leather shoes are perfectly capable of keeping her dry. Her world is one full of dim, overcast days, but one full of quiet joys. She is equally happy listening to Vivaldi as she is to Morrison. Equally content to lead as follow. To many she seems quiet, bookish and somewhat mundane. But she sees the world through bright green eyes and it sparkles for her more than most.

She awoke this past Tuesday to nothing unusual or out of the ordinary. However when she stepped outside to walk the seven blocks to the bookstore, she couldn't help but feel blue. And not the deep, dark, depressed rundown blue, but the hopeful, light baby blue. (Not quite robins egg, but a bit more powdered.) She chalked it up to the slowly warming weather and the fact that for once, it was not raining in her cozy northwest town. It seemed as if every yard had bright green shoots of daffodils beginning to poke through the ground, and birds sang in every tree. She could hear the robins, but they were hidden against the gray sky. She found herself swinging her bag back and forth as she walked and had to smile remembering doing that exact thing with her backpack all those years ago. The air smelled lush and full of the promise of a spring that leads headlong into a glorious summer. She felt her spirit within her fluttering against her rib cage in excitement, the winter was almost over! While she did enjoy many of the dark, listless winter days, the affirmation of spring is almost more than she can take. She can feel the excitement running over her skin as a small hole forms in the cloud cover and a single ray of sunshine peeks through. Yes, that Tuesday was a good day.

Fat Bottomed Girls You Make The Rockin' World Go Round

It is no secret that I am a bigger woman.  What most of you probably don't know is how difficult it is to find cute clothing if you're a bigger woman.  For whatever reason, if you're bigger, stores assume you want to wear the brightest, boldest, most sequined, beaded thing imaginable.

The truth is, bigger women do not want to wear those things.

We know we're big, we don't need stores trying to just drape us in fabric to get the point across (ie...shawls aka tents).  And maybe that's a personal preference, however today I decided to go to Goodwill.  I often go to Goodwill looking for books and/or dvds (now that everyone's buying blu-ray discs, dvds abound!).  I have on occasion ventured over to the clothing racks.  I have found a few cute things there too. 

Today, however, I found myself appalled as I walked the clothing aisles.  And while I did end up buying two articles of clothing, it was difficult to find anything worth even trying on.

I present to you:

Things Bigger Women Would Never Be Caught Dead Wearing

1.  While stripes can be slimming, it is imperative that they be vertical.  And one color.  And one size.

2.  Colored animal prints?  Really?  And what you cannot see here is that this is sheer.  Danger!

3.  I have no words.  The picture stole them all.

4.  I am not one to shy away from color.  But this is not what big women want when they want to wear color!

5.  See #4

6. I, personally, believe nobody should wear sequins.  Or shirts with beads sewed on them.  And I'm pretty sure most big women would not want to be a huge disco ball.  Or a bad acid trip.

So there you have it.  Is it really so difficult to know why these things are not what big women want to wear?  And some poor woman somewhere, at some time, was coerced into buying the above items be being told "Look how sporty it makes you look!" or "You look so young and hip!".  If these items were never pawned off as stylish on the larger crowd, I think a lot of us would be much happier walking down the street.

That is all.

(In no way is this meant to be offensive to anyone.  These are merely thoughts I found myself thinking about today.)

Oh, and I almost forgot.  I worked for YEARS in multiple retail stores.  Is it really so difficult to keep the maternity clothing out of the big lady section??  (And yes, Goodwill is the culprit here, but I'm looking at you too Target!)

A Little Thing

I have been sick with a head cold/flu-type thing since Friday.  Not that I'm complaining about it, it's just relevent to this post.

Tonight I asked my nephews Noah (4) and Declan (2 1/2) to pray that Jesus would make me feel better.  Noah took my hand in his and placed his other hand on top of mine, closed his eyes and said "Jesus, help Sarah feel good.  Amen."  Then Declan put his little hand on my arm, closed his eyes and said, "Jesus, thank you for this food.  Bless it to our bodies.  Amen."

While I couldn't help but laugh a little, I was so blessed that they actually prayed for me.  They were so genuine and serious in it as well.  And in thinking about Declan's prayer, I was overwhelmed with how much God loves us.  Declan was simply praying the one prayer he knows, yet God knows his heart in what he was asking for. 

I love that God doesn't care about the words we use to pray with, how fancy or ornate a prayer is, but that He simply loves for us to come to Him.  And in our small faith, He sorts it all out because He knows our hearts.

I love Jesus so much.

God Made Dirt & Dirt Don't Hurt

Today my friend Mary Elizabeth told me she loves my blog so much that I could write about dirt and she'd find it fascinating.  While flattered, I told her that this New Year's Resolution of updating the blog once a week has become more challenging than I anticipated.  I mean come on, once a week something worth writing about should happen or occur to me, right?  Wrong.  So I'm taking her up on the challenge; I am going to write about dirt.

~*~

When I was a kid I was a pretty big tomboy.  No, that's not accurate.  When I think of a tomboy I think sports.  I've never been a sporty girl.  I was, however, a tough girl.  All of my free time was spent outside.  If I wasn't at school or doing some chore inside, I was out there.  I was the only girl in my neighborhood my age, but there were lots of boys.  Having 2 brothers, I became the girl in the sea of boys.  I'd race my bike with them, play Ghost in the Graveyard with them, climb trees with them, pretty much whatever the boys were doing I was doing.  But this is a story about dirt, so let's move along.

The place you could find me most often was in my neighbor Virginia's garden.  Virginia was my grama's age and she had a nice big flower garden all along the side and back of her house.  None of the houses in my neighborhood had fences, so it was like one huge yard behind all our houses.  Virginia's garden was lined with bricks, some that were so deep into the ground you'd barely notice them.  She didn't mind me poking around in there as long as I put everything back the way she had it.  In fact, she kept a brown grocery bag on her back porch full of peanuts for all us neighborhood kids to snack on.

My favorite thing was digging up those bricks and finding the bugs underneath.  My mom would save all the jars from mayonnaise, jelly, jalapeno peppers anything that was glass and had a lid was reserved for me.  She'd take a hammer and steak knife and punch holes through the lids and then put them in the pantry.  I would then take them as needed.  I'd usually take as many as I could outside with me and then the digging would begin.

I'd spend hours overturning those bricks.  I'd start in the front of the house, work my way up the side and end at the back where I'd pop a couple of peanuts and go back to the begining and do it again.  Usually I'd find mostly worms and potato bugs.  But my absolute favorite was when I'd slowly pick up a brick and there would be a huge beetle!  My heart would always beat wildly with anticipation as I'd loosen the brick from the earth and sloooowly pick it up so as not to disturb whatever was living underneath it. 

I was a bug girl for sure.  I loved them.  I had jars lining my bedroom full of them.  My dad had some bug books that he gave me and I would study them.  When I'd find a new bug I would read up on it so I could care for it while it shared my room with me.  Did you know bugs have certain smells?  Depending on the bugs, my room had a certain buggy scent.  But I even loved that. 

May & June where my favorite bug months because that was when the junebugs where out.  Every year I would catch the biggest one I could find and give it fresh maple leaves daily.  I wasn't too clever in naming them, because every year the one I'd keep would be named, appropriately, June.

You'd have been hard pressed to find a day when I didn't have dirt under my nails, on my face, in my hair or on my clothes.  I bent plenty of kitchen spoons attempting to reach the bugs that would go down their hole before I could snatch them up. 

Every year I had a Bug Zoo on our sunporch.  I would line all my bug's up, write up little cards with descriptions of the bug such as it's name, what it ate, it's lifeline and any interesting facts.  I'd charge all the neighborhood kids whatever coins they had to get in.  It was a constant rotation of bugs.  At the end of the summer, we'd all go to the corner store and buy tons of candy with the dollars I'd made over the season.

I once made a worm farm.  All you need for a worm farm is a large mayonnaise jar and a smaller jar that fits inside it.  Fill the space between the two jars with dirt and add worms.  Keep the dirt wet, but not too wet, and soon you'll have baby worms crawling around in there like you wouldn't believe.  My worm farm was at it's peak when it disappeared.  I was wrecked.  All my baby worms and mom and dad worms were going to shrivel up and die!  To this day I have no clue where that worm farm went, but I have a hunch my mom had something to do with it.

The reason I think she had something to do with that was because of this--my most prized possession was my caterpillar brain.  And sure, maybe it wasn't so much a brain as it was a skull or something like a skull, but it fascinated me.  I kept it in my top dresser drawer right next to my prized troll with hot pink hair.  That also disappeared.  My mom did tell me she threw that one out, but she claimed it was an accident.  I was hysterical for weeks after that.

Dirt was a constant part of my childhood.  I wore it proudly.  And to this day, there is something about being out in the yard gardening that makes a part of me come alive.  Especially when I see a bug crawling around in the dirt.  Suddenly I find that I'm not a 32 year old woman who works a professional job and has bills and responsibilities, but I am an 8 year old girl lost in a world that is never as far away as it feels.



The Whole Truth (And Nothing But)

I am going to tell you something that not too many people know. Every since I was fifteen, I have dealt with an anxiety disorder. I don't necessarily like to say, “I have an anxiety disorder” so much as “I sometimes have a hard time in life like everyone else”. But the truth of the matter is that I have been diagnosed by more than one doctor with this quote, unquote, disorder. I have been on all sorts of medications for the majority of my life trying to control it.

 

The funny thing about being a Christian with this, is that it's hard to talk about. In the Bible it's clearly stated that so much of our battle is in the mind. How then do you explain that it's not a normal battle to deal with anxiety in this way? If I were iron deficient, nobody would think twice if I took an iron pill daily. My body is deficient, in it's serotonin production. I take a daily serotonin pill. It's not that big of deal to me.

 

Moving away from the tricky part, I mainly wanted to talk about my personal experiences. One reason I genuinely feel grateful for this “disorder”, is that I know how much I need God to show up in my every day life. There are literally days when as I'm driving to work or wherever, I am crying out to God that if He doesn't make Himself known to me there is no way I will be able to get through the day. My body will physically and mentally begin to shut down if He doesn't see me through it. While days like that are not what I would call fun, they are extremely rewarding in knowing Him in every moment of my day. Of knowing His peace that surpasses all human understanding guards my heart and mind through His Son, Christ Jesus. At the risk of sounding super cheesy, it is through the lowest lows of this “disorder” that I have come to truly know Him intimately.

 

I have had a good long run of not dealing with anxiety on a regular basis. I chalk this up to God's grace, faithfulness, mercy; wisdom He's given to man to create medications; and a very small amount of credit I give to the tricks I've learned along the way. However, this past December there began a shift. I started noticing anxiety popping up quite a bit. Since then, it's increased even more, to almost a daily basis again of having to battle this thing. I have been considering what's changed. Nothing has changed physically, so that just leaves the spiritual.

 

On this past November 14th, there was a combined meeting. (I attend Living Light Christian Church, and there are three congregations, one in Kenosha, one in Racine and one in Pleasant Prairie and about once a quarter we all have a big Sunday meeting together.) Two prophetic words came that I just knew were hugely significant for me and where I was at in life. The basic gist of them was God is doing a work in us, adding layer upon layer and embellishments like a piece of clothing and as you feel the needle go through know that it's Him adding layer up on layer and to look to Him and to trust Him. The other was that God is not just going to do a patch job, but that He's going to open and expose the rotting, weak parts of ourselves and tear them away, reinforce them and build them up stronger. Like I said, I knew these were specifically for me and as they were brought I just stood there, hands in the air, tears running down my face, heart fully surrendered.

 

I knew that one area of my life that He was addressing was my obedience to Him in bringing prophetic words in a corporate setting, songs in particular. For years He has given me songs to sing over His Church and for years I have cowered away. Sure, there were times when I would bring things, but not with the consistency with which He was speaking to me. I made a decision then to share whatever He gave me from then on, no matter what. So I do. And it's been great and amazing to see Him use me in this way. I love how in me simply being obedient, He blesses his people. I'm sure I will reach a point where it is simply second nature for me to bring His Word, but until it does, I am simply choosing obedience to Him.

 

What does all this have to do with the recent anxiety flare up you ask? I'll tell you. I have an enemy. And he is not an original enemy. He only has his same old tricks to pull out of his measly little bag. I believe that this “unexplainable” surge in my anxiety levels are nothing other than him trying to silence me and shut me down from bringing what the Lord is saying to me. And I'm none too happy about it. So I fight. Whether or not I win this battle, in the grand scheme of the war He wins, and therefore so do I. So if I have days of defeat, glory to God. And if I have days of victory, all the more glory to God!

 

These are truths I always know are true, no matter what state my physical mind is in. And even though I might not be able to go to a big work party (like the one I'm skipping tonight), I am victorious in Him. And His grace is sufficient for me. He truly is my everything. I love Him so much this physical body cannot express it or hold it.

 

So if in His grace and goodness He has hand-chosen me for this battle, I am all in.

Your Love Is Strong

by The Spark

 

I was lost within a hopeless life

I was blinded by a darkness

I could not fight

Then You took the scales off my eyes

Your love is strong

My ransom paid on Calvary

You were hung on a tree

that all the while was meant for me

Death broken in Your victory

Your love is strong

 

Amazing love

How can it be?

You chose to come and

give Your life for me

Amazing grace

Such awesome power!

Spirit come set this heart on fire

 

Through the cross You have made a way

You have carried all my burdens

and broken every chain

You've taken all my sin and shame

Your love is strong

Now You have caused my heart to sing

and I will come boldly

and worship at Your feet

Your Spirit now alive in me

Your love is strong

Amazing love

How can it be?

You chose to come

and give your life for me

Amazing grace

Such awesome power!

Spirit come set this heart on fire

 

Your love is strong enough to save

Your love

is more than enough for me

Your love

nothing can separate me from you

Something About My Real Life

I am in a writer's group called Solace. It is currently comprised of myself, Lauren, Sarah and Mary Elizabeth. We meet weekly and give ourselves homework. This week Sarah said, “Why don't we all write a blog entry about something about our life?”. To which I quickly replied, “Why? What are we all currently blogging about?”. 
 

But I get the point.

Unlike privately keeping a journal, in a blog you can paint yourself any which way you please. Instead of baring your soul and letting all the ugly out, you can write about butterflies and daffodils and the witty things you said at work. In thinking about this, I was reminded of a list (more like a stream of consciousness really) that I wrote in high school. It was simply titled “I Will Always...” and it listed a ton of things that I thought at the time I would always do. I came across this a while ago and smiled at that young girl. What was amazing though, was that I still do the majority of things on that list. I will have to look for it and post it on here in the near future. For now though, I thought maybe I would write a new one. Looking back on that list was like a time capsule of my 16 year old self. Why not time capsule my 32 year old self too? And that way maybe you can get a snippet into who I really am, on a day to day basis.

I Will Always...

Love the color orange above all others. Love the idea of being an amazing gardener, even if I'm only a mildly okay one. Love rice in my tomato soup. Prefer tea over coffee, but rarely turn down either. Secretly really like the color pink. Prefer to have my nails painted. Put cheap gas in my car. Love the scent of rain, lavender and cinnamon. Love mangoes. Favor being barefoot. Wear my heart on my sleeve. Be partial to my rose colored glasses. Love the sunshine. Love rainy days. Keep the radio on if my favorite song's playing, no matter how staticky it gets. Dream big. Lose myself in books and movies. Love Jesus more than any man. Love my nephews like they were my own. Be partial to the “small” forks and the “big” spoons. Have music playing. Wish people didn't put up walls (myself included). Long for home, even though that childhood place has been gone for close to two decades now. Want a dog. Heck, even a cat would work. Be somewhat messy. Love long drives on warm summer nights. Be a loud laugher. Secretly laugh to myself at everyday life occurrences, especially those which only I notice. Really, honestly, genuinely love life (the good and the bad). Love crisp autumn mornings. Consider my childhood best friend my best friend. Love hats, even if I don't look very good in them. Wish for an art room dedicated to only my multitude of hobbies. Play the music in my car a little too loudly. Dance like I don't know what I'm doing (because I don't). Love wintertime. Be vulnerable. Be real. Be full of joy.

The Chronicles Of My Embarrassment

I do not have an awkward meter, per se. While most people (I'm told) can feel awkward or embarrassed on a regular basis, I can pretty much count on one hand how many times I've actually felt that way. People are always talking about things being “like so awkward” or “super embarrassing” and I have a hard time relating to that. Even when they tell me the story of why they felt that way, I cannot see any reason to feel that way. I love this about myself.

 

I'm not sure why I don't have this meter. Don't get me wrong, I've definitely felt embarrassed before, however it's only ever been by my own doing. I don't really get embarrassed because someone made me embarrassed, only when I do it to myself. And even then it is very rare. I could recount my tales of embarrassment to you, and I almost want to say the average human would not be able to physically handle the level of which I embarrass myself. Not that I think I'm high and mighty in any way, it's just the truth of the matter. The faces of my friends and coworkers when I tell them how I've embarrassed myself tell me that they themselves could not have moved on from such a situation.

 

This is a funny thing for me to write about because to me it seems like a non-issue. It's not something I deal with, or ever have dealt with really. But it fascinates people. How can someone not hardly ever feel embarrassed, they wonder. I do not have the answer to that. But for your entertainment, I will share a few stories. Some of them have already been shared on this blog, but it's been a long time now, so I feel fine to share them again.

 

I present to you, The Chronicles Of My Embarrassment:

 

-Episode One-

 

When I was 12 my family went to Wisconsin Dells. I had this bright yellow bathing suit that was too big for me so my mom folded the straps over and sewed them down and every year she'd let it out a little bit. Everyone was laying on these lounge chairs resting after walking around the park all day. I went and stood under this large mushroom shaped thing that had water pouring around the edges of it. I was just standing there, letting the water run over me, when suddenly my Aunt Donna looked over towards me and started laughing hysterically and pointing. I turned to see what was so funny, but I couldn't see anything. My dad sat up to see what she was laughing at, except instead of laughing he had this look of horror on his face and came running towards me. I didn't understand why until he reached down and pulled my too big bathing suit up from my ankles and helped me get it back on. Curse that mushroom rushing water thing.

-Episode Two-

A few years ago I came home from work and was in a big rush to get to my friend Adam's house for a taco dinner. It is important for you to know that I was wearing a black cotton skirt. I came home, took a quick shower, picked my black cotton skirt back up off the floor and put it on, finished getting ready and ran out the door. I had to stop at the store for tortilla chips, and I noticed a lot of people looking at me. I thought I must be looking dang good and felt really confident and flattered. I finally got to Adam's and we were sitting around talking waiting for everyone else to show up. I got up to get a cup of water and as I got to the kitchen I heard him yell, "why do you have a big white sticker on your butt?" I replied, "What? No I don't!" I spun my skirt around to look at the back of it, and much to my horror I realized that it wasn't a bit white sticker, but a pantyliner! I ran into the bathroom and peeled it off my skirt and threw it away. As I was about to go back out to the kitchen, it dawned on me that that was the reason everyone in the store was staring at me! I was THAT girl that everyone wanted to say something to but didn't know how! I felt my face go red. I went back in to the living room and sat back on the couch, staring straight ahead. Adam said, "I thought you were getting some water?" I said, "oh yeah" and got back up. I suddenly just started laughing hysterically, I couldn't help it! He just looked at me like I was crazy. I managed go squeak out, "Adam, that wasn't a sticker on my skirt, it was a feminine product, and I went to the grocery store like that!" We were dying of laughter. I still to this day have no idea how that got on my skirt.

-Episode Three-

Before this story begins you need to know that I have two brothers, one named Luke and one named John. You also need to know that for John's entire life Luke and I have called him 'huge'. I'm not sure why exactly, but I think it's something to do with the size of his head as a child. Moving on...

This past New Year's Day I went to my cousins house for a big family dinner. Afterward when everyone but me had left, I asked her and her husband if they knew any guys they could potentially set me up with. They said they did and invited me round the next day to watch the game (ie, the Packer game, is there any other??). The next day I went round and the moment I walked in the door I knew that this was not the man for me. But you can never meet too many people or have too many friends so I stuck around. We laughed, we talked, we watched the game. Normal stuff. Except for my family who apparently lack any and all sense of appropriateness in a “setting someone up” situation. When I first got there, after I met John, I took off my coat and said I needed to use the bathroom (which I did). After I came back from the bathroom, my entire family had moved around in order that I had to sit next to John on the loveseat. At one point John asked if my cousin could make coffee to which my aunt replied, “Coffee?! Sarah loves coffee!”. I shot her a menacing glance and said, “Yeah, who doesn't?”. So this went on throughout the entire game (which we won, by the way). Also, this guy John was actually pretty funny. He had recently lost 100lbs, which is awesome! He and my aunt talked about this and how he did it for almost the entire length of the game. After we won, I started to put on my coat and my cousin said, “You can't leave, we're going to play Apples to Apples!”. So I stayed. Heck, I love that game! We had played a few rounds when the word 'huge' came up. Everyone threw their cards in and as we were waiting for my aunt to figure out which card best fit with 'huge', I suddenly started laughing. And out of my mouth came the words, “Oh man! Too bad I didn't have a card that said John!”. I laughed ridiculously loud. I realized no one else was laughing and slowly looked up from my cards as to why. Everyone, and I mean all of my crazy family, were staring at me with looks of horror, humor and distress upon their faces. Out of the corner of my eye I see the guy (who had just talked for over 3 hours about losing 100lbs) turn his head towards me. It was at that moment that I remembered his name was John. As his head is turning he says, “Oooookay...”. I cannot contain myself. I am laughing as hard as I can ever remember laughing. I am crying. I am mortified. My entire family also busts out laughing hysterically. My aunts are crying, my cousins husband is on the floor. This is awful! This guy John thinks we're all laughing at him!!! No one can get out why we're laughing. I'm dying a slow death when finally my one aunt spits out that I didn't mean him, I meant my brother John. To which he replies, “Why would you call someone that?”. I now have tears and snot and sweat pouring down my face I am laughing so hard. Everyone else does too. My aunt sputters something about a big baby while we all fight for our breath in fits of laughter.

Yeah. THAT was embarrassing.

Death & All His Friends

Ask me what I did this past weekend and I'd have to really think about it to come up with the answer. Loosely translated, I did nothing of much significance. It was just another weekend in my life, neither memorable nor noteworthy.

One town over it was playing out completely differently for my coworker J. What started out, no doubt, as an ordinary weekend, turned into one of the most horrific of her life. Her husband went out late Saturday evening to go snowmobiling. Something normal, something he went out to do regularly. But due to the repeated thawing and freezing, his usual route was covered in ice. But still, it was not too bad to turn back home. But once further up the trail, as he neared the railroad tracks, he lost control of the snowmobile. I'm not sure entirely of all the details; what I do know is that he slammed into the iron railroad guard rail, flew off his snowmobile, and died of massive head trauma.

I knew nothing of this until Monday when I came to work. The whole office was somber. J doesn't work in my branch, but I have served on several committees with her through my years working there. J is now a widow at the age of 36. Her children, ages 14 and 9, are fatherless.

Grief was back in my life.

Grief, for me, is one of those things that's never too far off. He's always lingering somewhere in the back of my mind. He never seems to leave me be for too long. And it doesn't seem to matter how removed a situation actually is from me; He will just sock me right in the gut at the mere mention of a tragedy. I didn't know J's husband. It in no way tangibly affects my life that her husband is gone. I can't even remember the last time I saw J. Yet my mind has been in overdrive praying for and thinking of her, my heart has been breaking and crying out to God for her and her children.

The interesting thing to me about death, loss, grief, is that just when you think the elevator of 'how low you could possibly go' hits the bottom floor, it lurches down another floor deeper. And yet, there is something of the human spirit that cannot be held down there for too long. It is my experience that your spirit will start pulling you up and out much sooner than you may feel prepared. As does time. I have felt cheated by time, pulling on me to move on much sooner than I would have liked too. And yet, even in the depths of loss, life can be found.

A natural example of this is my lavender plant. I bought a lavender plant this past summer and it thrived. Then one day I woke up and it had inexplicably died overnight. Instead of throwing the whole thing away, I simply cut the entire thing down to a stub. I left it in the sun and continued to water it regularly. A few months later it made a comeback. At first it was just one measly little stalk that started to grow up. I felt sad that it wasn't the glorious plant it used to be, but soldiered on taking care of it. Right when that stalk really started looking good, it too died. Frustrated, I gave up on it. It sat on my shelf for a few weeks, still giving off the heady aroma of lavender. Then, suddenly, out of that dead stalk I noticed new growth shooting right out the middle of it. And now, a few more months later, there's even more growth.

Life and death are like this. Right when things seem the most hopeless, the most drear, life will come forth. Life will always come forth.

And that is the beauty of it all.

Reasons I Love Winter

Many people have recently asked me why I love winter so much.  The short answer is "there are many reasons", and nobody likes that answer.  So here's the long answer...

I grew up here, in the southeast corner of Wisconsin.  While we don't get the worst (the best?) of winter, we definitely get winter.  I was born in the Blizzard of '79, as it's known around these parts.  My entire family was stuck sleeping and living in the waiting room of the hosiptal for three days because they couldn't leave.  Doctors and nurses were being brought in to the hospital on snowmobiles because cars were out of the question.  I'm told (yearly) that it was so bad that once the roads were able to be plowed, when you were at an intersection you couldn't actually see any of the cars coming from the opposite direction due to the walls of snow.  People put long poles on their radio antennas and flew hunter orange flags at the top to let other people know there was a car on the other side of that wall of snow.

This is the reason my mother gives for why I like winter so much.

While it's true that I grew up loving winters in Wisconsin, I also loved (and still do love) the summers, springs and autumns.  I generally love all of the seasons, for wildly different reasons.  And maybe that's my secret, loving it all.  Yet for some reason, people are shocked when you say you love the wintertime.

Usually what happens (at work anyway) is a conversation like this:

Me - "Hello"

Unsuspecting Person - "Hi"

Me - "How are you doing today?"

UP - "Cold, sore from shoveling and some idiot almost killed me because he was driving too fast on my way here."

Me - (laughing) "I'm sorry to hear that."

UP - "Yeah well that about sums up winter doesn't it?  It just sucks here in the winter."

(at this point my coworkers wince because they know what's coming)

Me - "Oh I'm not who you should be complaining to about winter.  I love it!"

UP - "What??  What's to love about this godforsaken season??"

Me - "Oh I love everything about it!  The snow, the bundling up, the adventure of it, you know?"

At this point they usually just go on and on about how horrible it is or how I must not have to shovel (which I don't, but I have had to in the past and it never made my love of winter waver).

What I can never get across is that winter is full of quiet romance, and I love that.

Snuggling up on a cold night in a warm house, drinking tea by the steaming cupfuls, the rhythmic chopping of winter vegetables to make soups and stews, making hot cocoa for the kids while they're out playing in the freshly fallen snow (okay I don't have kids, but I do live with 3 of them), cozy sweaters, steamed up windows, frosted windows, flickering candles, dark inviting evenings, the idea of everyone snuggling up in their warm house on the coldest nights, the picture of rows of houses whose windows blaze with warmth while the sky outside is turning to a deep dark blue.  The trees naked and coated in ice, the deep settling in feeling, blankets, hot oatmeal breakfasts, the dazzling colors of a winter sunrise, and a big yellow moon rising over the frozen cold white land.  The fat fluffy snow, the beauty of the sun after days of clouds, feeling the suns warmth in your home while sitting near the window, the adventure of driving up to the store a mile away for something much needed in the middle of a massive snowstorm.  The starkness, the nakedness and vulnerablity of nature.  Everything is undercover and waiting.  The anticipation and expectation of spring is overwhelming at times.  The longing, the hope of what's to come.  I love it all.

I especially love afternoons like this one.  Quiet, reflectivly writing thoughts while nature creaks and moans outside my window as I sip tea.

So maybe that answers it, maybe it doesn't.  Maybe it's a silly reason like I'd way rather be cold than hot.  You can always add more clothes, drink hot drinks, take hot baths, but when you're hot there's only so much you can take off.  Or maybe it's just something in me that causes me to love all of life, even the winters.

A huge part of me thinks that life is what you make of it.  And I'd much rather love everything about life and find joy in it all instead of wasting my energy hating something that I know will always come every year until I decide to take myself out of it.  Optimisim--it has it's perks!