I am auntie Sarah

I am an auntie.

My beautiful sister and wonderful brother-in-law got to give birth to their little Jonan Eilam Pelletier last night.
We found out two weeks ago about complications with Jonan and his life inside Kimberly's belly. He had amniotic band syndrom in which bands from the amniotic fluid wrap themselves around parts of him, and cause complications. In Jonan's situation, he was not compatible with life outside of the womb. Kimberly and Jeff love him all the same, and took wonderful care of Jonan for his short life inside Kimberly.
At 22 weeks, Jonan passed away in Kimberly's belly. Last night she birthed him. We all got to hold Jonan's little body, touch his perfect legs, and see how much of an amazing little person he is.
There was a deep sadness, and an abounding joy covering the entire day. I don't think anyone knew how to put those feelings together, but Kimberly and Jeff were the light and inspiration of the entire day. Every time we walked into the hospital room to see them a sense of comfort fill the air. Kimberly and Jeff are incredible, and I have no other words.
They are Jonan's parents, and they will be forever. There was a great sense of that when Kimberly and Jeff were sitting next to each other, holding their first born. It was beautiful. She marveled at how perfect his feet were.
I held Jonan's half pound body in my hands and cried over him, over how I miss the life I will not know, cried for Kimberly and Jeff, but also cried for how glad I was that he was here. I felt his teeny bottom in my hands and I wanted to hug his gentle body. 

There was a moment in the waiting room where our family was sitting in mourning while Kimberly was going through her first set inducing medications. Another family was sitting joyful next to us. A man entered the room, they all stood up, "It's a boy!" he said, and the family stood up with exclamation! There was crying, there was hugging. The boy's name is Liam, and he's a big baby with a full dark head of beautiful hair. Soon after there were phone calls saying, "I'm a grandma!" and laughter filled stories about other children in the family. Such a touching moment for them, and so emotional for our family on this day.

However, there could not have been a more perfect moment when we crowded in to see Kimberly, Jeff, and Jonan after he was here. There was emotion, and a sense of God's presence everywhere. Jonan is real. Jonan is probably hearing stories about his momma from his Great Gramdpa Bob in paradise.
Jonan was born into heaven on January 24, 2011. He's my first nephew, and he has already changed the lives of more people than I have probably touched in my 22 years here on Earth. What and amazing little kid. I'm sure God is happy to have him at His side in Heaven.
Jonan's name means "God is a gracious giver", and although there is much sadness with Jonan's story... there is joy to outlast it all because of his life. This is not about a sad story, this is about a very real life, and a life to be very happy about.
I thank God for such a wonderful gift to the world.

Contrast

I love colors, and deep contrast. Perhaps because they understand me. I mirror them. We get each other. 

Now, peering out the window of this train and seeing the vastness of the prairies, the silos, and quiet lives, there is one thing that sings to my heart. 

I see a blanket of snow covering the farms. Sprouting through is a patch of tall, red, vibrant prairie grass. It sings to my soul; the color pushing out of the colorless; the life overcoming the death; the vastness of each, the importance of each, and the beauty of each - next to each other. Beyond what it seems, they are not at odds with each other. They are working together, singing to the dark night of my soul.

"Yeah, that's right"

Yesterday after I got off the Amtrak I was walking through the thick crowd of people in Chicago. My pack was heavy on my back, and my fingers were frozen out in the open holding my mandolin case. Must have forgotten my wrist warmers. Where are those things anyways? My fingers are freezing. 
I was thinking about my current state of life. How nothing is certain. We just can't count on so many things we count on. I've learned that the hard way. If the signs pointed anywhere in my life right now, it would be that life doesn't want me to have a car, or a phone, and probably not a computer either.  At least I won in the computer part of things. The computer has only pooped out on me once. Cars and phones... let's not get into that.
I started unrealistically thinking about moving into the middle of nowhere where things are more certain than here. The nightfall is certain, the daybreak is certain. The seasons will come, the trees will turn, and the season will go. Every day you know what you're in for. You know how to be prepared.
But when my $950 car is going to cost $700 to fix- that, I don't know how to be prepared for.
Man this sucks.
Interrupting my thoughts there was a crowed of small high schoolers with bright bags walking at me. I dodged out of the way so I wouldn't smack them with my mandolin and one of them handed me a pair of gloves.
"Free gloves?" asked a short one.
"What?"
"Free gloves." He repeated again... like, duh!
"Oh, seriously!?"
"Yeah!"
"Thank you!!!!" I had no trouble showing my gratitude and excitement in those two words.
It was a short interaction and we passed each other quickly.
I laughed a bit and smiled.
"Yeah", God said, "I do take care of you."

What the world needs now.

"Don't ask yourself what the world needs. Ask yourself what makes you come alive, because what the world needs is people to come alive."

the light of life

Color is almost dependent on your eye. It is dependent on the light's reflection and the way your eye perceives those reflections.
When the lights go out there is literally no color to what you look at. They are merely colorless objects. They are black. When they are absent of light, they are absent of color.
Light will chase darkness, but darkness cannot chase light. It has to flee. It must flee. It has no choice.
What a beautiful, perfect description of God.
God is light.

Without light plants die. Without light our skin fades, our hearts fade; our vitamins literally deplete. Without light life is colorless. Without light there is darkness. Without light paintings are just lines on a canvass. Without light there is no reflection. Without light there is no reflection.
Without light there is no reflection.
God is light.
1 John 1:15 - "God is light: In Him there is no darkness."

God is not like light. God is light.

a feast

January is a cruel month.

Every year it murders my soul and souls around me. It smashes my heart into a bloody mess that my tears only make worse. It falls down on me like at cold, thick January snow. It kills every bud of hope beneath it. The only thing that can give life again is the Sun. The Sun can melt away the colorless, suffocating, slop. The Sun shines and it gives color to things that had been choked of all life. And all the wetness of the thing that had once summoned death is now teaming up with the sun to feed the dying, hungry foliage for a feast that finally gives back life.

Maybe that’s why January consistently kills. Maybe I just need to sit here in my mess, beneath the suffocation, and ponder. Maybe I am like the trees in that if I don’t dye a little each year, a very real death will creep inside of me much faster, and much deadlier.

There is joy in the Springtime. There is warmth and fun in the Summertime. There is a comfort and beauty in Autumn. There is celebration when the holidays come around. But January. January does not belong to any season but it’s own. January teams up with February every year in what seems like an attempt to rot the living.

I must remind myself that it is mere pruning. Once my snow melts, I will feast.

life is so deceiving sometimes. so cruel.
I can't do it. it keeps breaking my heart over again before I have a chance to heal.

Litte Red Bike-Rider, and the Big Bad Bakery

It's the worst thing when you feel stuck. To the point where I've been sitting here for ten minutes staring at the wall as though it's going to write my next sentence for me... Well I wish it would. I wish it would fill out my applications, march on over to that pie shop I worked at, and crumble half it's drywall ass all over my ex-boss until she's in a pile of rubble so high that she cant move anything but her hand to sign the money over to me that she rightfully owes me. Good grief.
Instead, I feel like a leach. Someone who can't even buy groceries for herself, get anywhere on her own, asking for a wall to go do her dirty business for her.
I could take this woman to court, but I'd have to get there via my red road bike, and I don't have the lung capacity to ride up to an 8,000 ft elevation. Damn pie in the sky.
If anyone goes to Estes Park, stay away from any sign that says YOU NEED PIE. Don't let the devil brainwash you. He is a naughty businessman, as are all the owners of that god forsaken sugar shop.
Aisle 2 is another bakery in town, and their coffee doesn't come in a pod brewed with stale water. How does water get stale, you ask? Ha. You'd be surprised. Such a complete blasphemous use of all things good that God made from the ground. While am at it, one more secret... all her cakes are made from Betty Crocker boxes! Just add water, egg, and: voila. Sugar. Coated. Deception.
Bastardized, Blasphemous Baking.
Phu.

my first love

I sit here once again in this bed that we sat together on, talked on, cried on, laughed endlessly, and watched movies. My heart is overwhelmed.
To all my other hard times I could find such a deep comfort in such a simple, strong hug. This, however, is past the point of any comfort, and my favorite arms are far away now.
It's the death of a relationship with a cut that slowly, agonizingly bleeds out until the blood is gone and it finally stops hurting. All that's left is an exhausted heart.
I want my favorite strong arms around me, and I want to lay next to him while he smells my hair, and I can feel his breath behind my ears. I want to feel kisses all over my face, and to know that everything is going to be okay when he hugs me so tight; his chin resting on my head and his beard prickling into my skin.
I stared at him every night this week. I took in every length of every hair on his beard. I studied his eyes, and the pores in his face. I stroked his lips with my fingertips hoping that all of these things might get burned into my brain, into my heart, into my eyes, so that when he leaves I will still hold him close to me when I need him most. But he is not here. He is far away from here. And I have never known such a hard feeling to feel. Such a grief. Such a sad end of something so beautiful to my heart.
I want to know it again. I long to feel that love close again. I know I cannot feel it with him right now, but I don't want to feel it with anyone else right now.
I can't be here. In this room. In this house. In this town. My final days with him are everywhere. He is in everything. His footprints are in the snow outside. His sheets still shape the bed. He is in my thoughts when the train goes by, and when I put on my jacket to go out into the cold. He is in all my tears. And he's deep in my heart.
Two days has the feel of two weeks. My heart hurts.
To sever a love is not natural to the human heart. Does it ever heal?

The Return of Midlife Crisis Matt, And The Decline of My Life As We Know It.

Just a word of wisdom here: When you start a new job, make sure the business you work for isn't about to completely go under. If it is, you probably won't get paid.
Welcome to my current position. I am owed three weeks of working all the way back from October from the Pie Shop in Estes Park. According to the owner, they got audited and they drained every penny from every account of theirs a week and a half ago. Shady. Funny story is, she has owed me this money for two months and has yet to pay it. First, she never got my messages because her phone was off. Then, the check she sent never came so she canceled them and resent (bullshit). Strangely enough, after she sent them the second time they came back to her all mangled up without postage on them. And then, oh, they were audited. Boo.
Also, I am broke. And stranded. My car isn't running and I had to get towed out of the middle of nowhere Illinois after waiting an hour for the weirdo to come pick Aaron and I up. I'll just leave his description at weirdo.
Speaking of weirdo's, Midlife Crisis Matt just sent me a text but 20 minutes ago. I told you he wasn't gone forever. It consisted of a beautiful picture of somewhere like Paradise (obviously very, very far away from me) and said, "Remember me Sarah? I've been living in Kauai. Back in SLO now. Have a look. -Matt Potter".
Once I get paid from the Pie Shop, maybe I can get my car fixed and drive to the store to buy food.
Really, it's the simple things in life.

In the words of my dad, sometimes days just "suck swamp water through a dirty straw".
Here's to the next week of walking, dumpster diving, and filing complaints about that damn Pie Shop. Amen.