New Year, New Blog

I've moved! Find me at www.sarahfreeborn.wordpress.com

I'm not an angry person, but...

Lately I have been SO angry.

And I don't like it.

I used to be a very angry person.  I poured rage into my coffee and greedily slurped it down every morning while smoking a Marb Red.

Back then I didn't know why I was angry.  I functioned in a state of rage for many years.  

And I liked it.

Now I know that the reason I was so angry for so long was due to many, many things flying out of my control.  Parents divorce.  Mom remarried, then redivorced.  Dad an alcoholic. The reasons are endless and severe.

It took me a long time to dig out of that anger.

So now, when I find myself dealing with anger like this again, it scares me a little.

There are many major life changes happening again, all within a matter of days of each other.

I am moving 45 minutes away.

I am losing my job.

I am applying for jobs like it's my job.

I'm being turned down for jobs like crazy.

It is all out flying out of my control.

I am frustrated.

I am annoyed.

I am angry.

This all came to a head this morning.

My little bookstore was closed the past two days due to the extreme cold.  Somewhere in there, we had a few inches of snow.  There is an empty lot next to the store and the wind whips through it and blows huge drifts right in front of our store.  I am responsible for shoveling.  

So this morning as I'm outside shoveling 10-12 inches of snow that has been compacted from people walking over it the past few days we were closed, I lost it.

I am hitting the snow with the shovel, flinging snow as far as I can, crying, swearing, yelling, just plain frustrated.  I was thisclose to coming inside, Skyping my boss that I was quitting and going home to drink wine and cry all day.  If I wasn't in such dire straights financially I'm positive I would have done exactly that.

But instead, I finished shoveling the walk, came in, poured myself a big ole cup of tea and felt so explosive that I figured I should let it out catharticaly with writing. 

So here I am.  

Still angry.  But more of a dull ache of anger now.

The tea is helping.

So is the worship music.

I am going to miss this place.

Ch-Ch-Changes

"Do you ever find yourself in the midst of so much change yet somehow not worried about it at all? So much is changing and life is whirling all around me, yet I can't help but feel so full of faith for what God has, and even, dare I say it? EXCITEMENT! I found myself worrying that I wasn't worried and then I just had to laugh at myself, because who does that? God is so good to me, that even if I was worried I wouldn't have to be!"

 The above is my current Facebook status.  I didn't divulge too much on Facebook because not everything is "public" yet, but I feel free to share more details here, simply because nobody really reads this blog.  Haha!

This past Monday I turned 35.  THIRTY FIVE!!!  Like, seriously?!  How is that even possible?  In the not so distant past that was middle aged!  I realized a few months ago that I technically can no longer refer to/think of myself as a girl, because being 35 feels like it's officially time to be a woman.  There are so many other things I could say about turning 35, but let's just say this was not an easy age for me to turn.

Also on Monday, our house sold.  I live with my brother Luke, his wife Heather and their three boys Noah, Declan & Eli.  The house has been on the market since the end of October, because he needs to live closer to his work, which is currently 1 1/2 hours away.  I am moving with them to the new house in Caledonia, which is about 45 minutes away from our current house.

With the move, comes a change in churches.  We all attend the Pleasant Prairie church and now will be transferring to the Racine church.  While a lot of my friends are a part of Racine, I will really miss Pleasant Prairie.  It is home.

So that was all Monday.

On Tuesday, I found out that my work is going to be closing it's doors on February 28th.  While I can't say I was completely taken by surprise by this news, it was a bit shocking that it was happening so quickly.  I thought I had more time here.  Yet I don't feel thrown.  In fact, I feel quite the opposite.  I feel completely at peace and full of faith and even excitement for what God has up his sleeve!  It is sad to me that this quaint little bookstore is closing, however I trust Him completely.

February is going to be a crazy month for me in all areas of life.  Home, work and church are all getting totally mixed around and I don't know exactly what either of them is going to look like.  Yet excitement burns in my chest and faith soars to new heights. 

He is on the move.

2014

Only 2 blog posts in all of 2013???  I bet I can do better...

Adulthood?

Confession:

I rarely feel like an adult.  It still feels like something I'm working towards.

This begs the question--is adulthood a place you simply arrive at one day, or is it a process, or is it even a bit of a myth?  Does anyone feel like an adult?  Or do we all feel like we're faking it?

I am coming up on turning 35, which is a "there's-no-doubt-about-it-you're-an-adult" age.  But I still feel like a kid or teenager who's somehow just living as an adult.  But why?  I don't have my own place (I live with my brother, his wife and their 3 boys) but I do own a car (that is 100% paid off).  Maybe it's just the year I'm having (see previous post)?  I'm back working retail vs working in what I'd consider my career field, and my financial state has definitely taken a major hit.  Or does it have to do with both of my younger brothers being married with kids and me having never had a serious relationship?  Or because I've never lived more than 20 minutes from where I grew up?

Ultimately, whatever the reason, I am an adult.  Perhaps the answer lies in insecurity.  Maybe I need to just become confident with who I am.  I spend so much time reminiscing about the past and daydreaming about the future, when maybe I should just be focusing on the now.  Now I am an adult.  Now I am on a "break from life" job-wise.  Now I have time to focus on what I've dreamed of doing when I was in the 40 hour a week grind.  So tonight instead of watching Netflix in my room by myself until it's time for bed, maybe I should do one of those things.

That's not to say that I won't still laugh inwardly when in decidedly adult situations.  Heck, my grama tells me all the time that she feels exactly the same as she did in high school (on the inside anyway)!

Well what do we have here...

Oh, hello there.  Are you still coming to this blog?  I haven't in over a year, so I wouldn't blame you if you haven't.  Nothing to see here...

The past year of my life has been chock-full of me being "out of sorts".  It's been awful if I'm being truly honest, which is easy to do when you're pretty confident nobody comes to your blog anymore anyways.  I made one of the worst decisions of my "responsible adult life" and I am still today reeling from the repercussions of it.  I quit the job I wanted to be at for the rest of my life.  You're probably wondering why someone would do something like that.  I'll tell you why--money.  I had zero plans to ever leave the bank I was at.  I had just had my 5 year anniversary with them and was looking forward to many, many more anniversaries until I finally retired.  But then something happened.  An opportunity came up that seemed too good to pass up.  A friend of mine told me about a job opening at another bank doing the exact same thing, only making a lot more money (not to mention bonuses).  I applied on a whim, without a second thought.  I went through many interviews only to find out it was down to me and an internal candidate.  At this point, I was still just in it to see if I could get it, I didn't actually believe I would, I was just curious.  And the money definitely didn't sound bad either.  In the end, I got the job.

Oh how I wish I could go back in time to one year ago right now.

What I thought was going to be the best career move of my life thus far, turned in to the extreme opposite.  This bank was going through a merger two weeks after my start date.  I was aware of this at hire, but didn't think much of it because the bank I had been at for so long had gone through a similar situation and it was fine.  This new bank is on the national level, whereas my former employer was a small community bank.  This makes a massive difference in how mergers work.  Long story short--I completely fell through the cracks as a new hire.  I had no training.  I had to figure out how to do things on my own, which was ludicrous when you consider the fact that banks are run by the federal government and I could have caused the bank and myself to be charged with massive fees for doing things wrong.  I realize this could come across as sounding bitter, but mostly I am just very sad about the whole situation.

Do to massive amounts of stress and nobody being there for me at this new place, I quit just 5 weeks in.  I was so unhappy, I could not continue to put myself in that environment.  The whole merger was extremely unorganized and as a brand new employee I was expected to just pick up and go with new systems and programs and products I had never used.  There was also some unfortunate timing in the fact that I missed my entire first week of work because I got the flu.  Not the kind of flu you can "fake it til you make it", but the kind where you sleep wrapped around the toilet for fear of ruining everything you own.

All this to say, I made a mistake.  I went back to my original employer and begged for my job back.  Unfortunately, my position had already been filled and that was all there was to it.  So I got a job at Starbucks and at a small independent bookstore.

I am no longer at Starbucks and I have been promoted to manager of the bookstore.

But there is still a deep sadness in me over this entire thing.  There's not a day that goes by that I don't wish I had never left a place I loved and believed in so much.  I am trying to get back into banking now, but that mistake is haunting me.  It doesn't look good only working at a place for 5 weeks.  

In a lot of ways I feel "stuck" in life.  And I don't like it.  But what can I do.  Nothing but keep waking up every morning and trying again.   And I suppose there is some kind of beauty in that, bravery even.  But right now I don't see it.  Maybe in another year this will all make sense.  Maybe in another year I will be so grateful for the mistake that lead me to wherever it is I'm going.

But for now, I'm sad.

Summertime And The Living Is Easy

At least that's what the song says.  I have a love/hate relationship with the summertime.  I think I'll make a list.  Let's start with the negative and end on a happy note, shall we?

In the summertime I hate:

-the humidity

-when the temp gets above about 80-85

-sunstroke (I once had a really bad case of sunstroke when I was 15 and in marching band, and ever since I can get it fairly easily if I'm out in the sun for too long)

That's it really.  Overall, I really like the summer, contrary to popular belief.  I love all the seasons.  I just love some a little more than others is all!

In the summertime I love:

-driving with the windows down music blaring

-windblown hair

-suntans and freckles

-sandals

-being barefoot

-skirts and sundresses

-bright colors (on clothes, fingernails, toes, sunglasses, purses, everywhere!)

-long days

-warm nights

-sleeping with the windows open

-fruit & veggies cheap and ripe!

-ice cream

-sunroof open

-swimming

-4th of July

-everything comes alive!  the trees, flowers, town!

-lots of get togethers

-cookouts

-beer and brats (mmm)
-minimal makeup (bronzer, mascara, lipgloss--gorgeous!)
-hair in a fat bun, huge dangly earrings

So as you can see, I clearly enjoy the summertime.  Except for the heat and humidity ;)

Dear Jesus

Dear Jesus,

     I love you.  Help my wavering heart be unwavering.  You are truly the only one my heart desires.  Build this truth into me so deeply that my eyes will stay focused on you and you alone.  You are my everything.  There is nothing I can do outside of you.  I could search the entire earth over and not find one like you.  Take these hopes, dreams, desires and wants and make them yours.  I want nothing outside of you.  Forgive me for my adulterous ways.  You are my all in all.  There is no one for me outside of you.

All my love,

Sarah

First Love - Enter the Worship Circle

If I lift your name up high

will you draw me to your side

I just can't make it one more night

without your kiss

I will wait still, Lord come and fill

this emptiness is more than I can stand

I lift my eyes, my voice to the skies

return me to my First Love once again

Lord I fall down on my knees

only you can rescue me

I find that I am so in need

Wrap me in your presence

I will wait still, Lord come and fill

this emptiness is more than I can stand

I lift my eyes, my voice to the skies

return me to my First Love once again

Rant

Today I was driving, minding my own business when *WHAM* out of nowhere I was forced to look at images of aborted babies.  There was a baby so small it fit in a womans hand, a baby so small its foot was compared to an adult fingertip, a baby missing half its head because of some brutal procedure.

I realize this is a controversial subject.

I realize this is a controversial thing even within the church.

Sure we all agree abortion is wrong, but how we go about dealing with it can vary so strongly.

There are the silent protestors who walk around visible places with duct tape on their mouths to represent those whose lives have been aborted.  There are those who stand on street corners and hold up huge posters with extremely graphic images.  There are those who picket the clinics.  There are even those who are so far gone that they go and shoot doctors.

What are we doing?

Have any of these methods actually caused a woman to change her mind?  Have there been women who were going to have an abortion, only to change their minds after being assulted by crowds of people chanting and holding signs and pictures?  Has a woman ever decided to keep her child after seeing such vulgar pictures of aborted babies on the side of the road?

How helpful are these methods?

I, personally, have issues with these ways of doing things.

So you have a heart for the unborn, wonderful!  Why not donate your time/services in a positive way?  Why not volunteer at a crisis pregnancy center?  Or answer phones somewhere?  Or get involved in (gasp) Planned Parenthood as a means of being someone who can bring help and options from the place a woman most likely would go first?

I know that I don't post things like this on my blog.  I like to keep it light and fun.  But every time I see these people lining the street holding these pictures I just get fired up.  How UNhelpful can you be?  I always want to stop and ask them why they're doing it, what they think is being accomplished by this form of "helping".  How many women have pulled over and ran and thanked them, they hadn't really thought about it, how can they change their life?  I think of people who have had abortions.  Whether they admit it outright or not, they are suffering with the choices they made.  And do you think seeing these images helps them in their guilt?  Do you think it helps them get over the haunting memories?

Because I don't.

I think that love and grace and patience and mercy is what these women need.  Not another person telling them they're wrong.  Not another person saying they don't know what they're doing.  Even if they don't.

And what about those who've lost babies naturally?  These images cannot possibly bring any sort of joy or peace or resolution to anybody.  I have lost a baby.  A son.  I went into early labor and had him at 5 months.  And I held him on my chest as he slowly died from his underdeveloped lungs.  Did I rush out and wave him over my head in front of an abortion clinic or Starbucks?  No.  I grieved.  Like any normal person would.  And when I see these cruel images, they fling me right back to that moment in time over a decade ago.  And do I feel grateful for that?  Heck no.  If anything I feel incensed, furious.  I was having a good day.  I was doing my thing.  And who are these people to so rudely throw such a deep, intimate moment of my life in my face by having these images up at stoplights?

And what about children?  Those who weren't aborted?  I feel so bad for the mom or dad driving with their children.  "Mommy what's wrong with that baby?"  "Daddy what happened to that baby?"  How do you answer those questions as a parent?  How do you answer those questions as a parent who's maybe had an abortion in the past?

Why do we do this?

Why stop at abortions?  Premarital sex is wrong in the eyes of the church, why not stand on street corners holding up pornography?  Murder is wrong, why not stand with signs of gruesome murders (I guess technically we do)?  Gluttony is wrong, why not stand around holding signs of massively obese people?  The list goes on and on.  Adultry, gambling, drunkenness, idoltry, theivery, lying, cheating....

Oh I'm sorry, I suppose that would be offensive.

New Year, New You...or something

So here we are.  2012.  I did not uphold my blogging resolution last year of an entry a week.  But that is the beauty of a new year.  A fresh start.  And this year I'm not going to make a much simpler blogging goal.  At the begining of 2013, I would like to be able to look at my blog history and see one entry under every month.  If it happens to be more, great!

Easy peasy.  Especially considering I only made it until August of 2011, I've got a nice little backlog I can access should I need too.

:)

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