Snow.

I love the way the light softly shines through the windows when it snows.
I love how it drowns the noise when you walk out into it. All but footsteps are muted making that moment you step out into the snow feel like something magical is about to happen. Quiet anticipation warms my body.

Who's your god?

What other god sends himself into the realms of humanity to experience every. single hurt, sorrow, pain, joy, temptation, and struggle so that He can better relate and empathize with those He created? So that he can pave a way and say, "I've been there too, I understand". What other god?
What other god has grace so great for his people that would cause him to forgive all of them despite the fact that humanity is more than mildly imperfect?
What other god will come to you and tell you that He wants joy for you bigger than any joy you could possibly think up for yourself?
What other god doesn't just sit on a throne of mightiness and waits for us to come to him, but gets up and meets us where we are, amidst all the shit we find ourselves in?
What other god takes your dreams and then blows them up into this impossible, beautiful, magnificent dream and says that he wants to help you make THAT one, that BIG one happen for you?
I can't think of any. Not other than the God of Christ. He wants us to call him Father. That's a pretty intimate relationship there. That's not just King, Mighty One, God. He's all of those things, but also wants us to call him Father. As if everything else about his existence wasn't already mind-blowing enough.
"God whispers to us in our pleasures, speaks in our conscience, but shouts in our pains: it is His megaphone to rouse a deaf world." -C.S. Lewis.

If this is not the God you know, then I assure you that you don't know the right god. If this is not the God you know, I promise you that this is the God you want to know. I promise. I promise with every deep feeling in my heart.

Sometimes.

Sometimes I feel like the last in line and least important.

Spare me.

Do you ever cry and not know why?
I talk about melancholy a lot, and sadness a lot. I've written about how sadness can be good, and that we should learn to feel it all. But yesterday was different. It was a sadness that felt horrible to have. It was different than melancholy, or even grief.
I walked into Trader Joes shaking with at pit in my stomach, and as soon as I walked out onto the floor to clock in my eyes started to mist and the crying would not stop. For what reason? What was wrong? I didn't quite know how to explain that to anyone who was asking me. I just know that I couldn't stop crying for about an hour. A snotty, red-eye, wet face cry.
Depression. Inexplicable depression. My life feels small and meaningless right now.
But I am here for good reason. I am here because I feel I need to be right now and that should be reason enough. Suck it up. Right?
No. God doesn't tell us to suck it up. He guides us through hardships in our lives, and asks us to make sacrifices sometimes, but would never ask us to lose our joy and suck it up. Never. God's greatest joy is for us to live fully and joyfully. And when we DO make those sacrifices he asks us to it is in the name of finding that joy He knows we can have, that life that makes us feel full. This sadness is not right. This sadness connects to something that is... wrong, I suppose.
I feel slightly defeated. I live in a broken world, but must I go through this cycle of unhappiness my whole life? Is that all I have to look forward to? Joy and then sadness, followed by joy, and then sadness again. It's hard on the soul, this overwhelming joy followed my a hot sadness. The two extremes are causing me to  break. Lord Jesus, if this is the life I have to live on this Earth then take me to heaven. Please. Spare me from this turmoil.
But He stops me, tells me to rest my soul, and reminds me there is SO much more to look forward to on this Earth. My sadness is nudging me to take a few steps forward.
What I really want to do is quit my job, quit my responsibilities, and take a month off of life to do what I fully enjoy. But I can't for now. I am where I am, but all is not lost because of that. I am where I am and God meets me there. With Him he brings Joy.

The swallowing and wallowing.

There is nothing profound in this post. There is nothing thoughtful in this post. This post will most likely be full of my whining and questioning.
Why? Why? Why am I here?
Once again (because it's happened a zillion times over and over since I've been here starting in April) I find myself being swallowed up in a depression hole of meaningless suburban life. The only thing that's going to feel good is to cry myself to sleep tonight, or quit my job and move across the country to where most of my surroundings bring me life.
Every day I start to feel sick to my stomach and I can't pin it to anything other than my emotions manifesting themselves in my gut.
Every time I am invited to hang out with people who I could be making friendships with I pass to curl up in my bed.
Where a tidy room once was, there are now about four piles of clothes that I don't care to do anything about. Normally I love organization.
Normally I have more days to myself. But I felt like I had to push myself into some sort of transformation or growth since I am in the life-sucking suburbs, so now instead of ever actually having a day to rest and organize, I pack two meals a day and rush out the door after breakfast for different things I have committed myself to.
And when do I get a real vacation again? Next month. I am SO looking forward to it, but I can't live month-by-month. Weekend-to-weekend. Day off to day off.
I want to live fully every day. But right now it doesn't feel full in the right sense of the word. Full. Full means busy right now. What I want full to mean is life-giving. I don't see that happening. Tidbits of time with my family I feel life breathing itself back into me. But where is my life? What happened to it? What do I have to live for or look forward to? When am I going to get out of here? Every day hurts me a little more. Every day the pain in the pit of my stomach hurts. One of these days I wish I could really just get bed-ridden sick so I could take a few days off of this life and think about what the hell is it that I'm doing.


When I'm in Colorado everything feels right. I fit there like a missing piece to a puzzle. I love the air. The beauty. The colors of the trees. I love the seasons, the length of each season, I love the wild animals you can see running in the distance, or even close up. I love that bluegrass is everywhere. I love the people I know there. I love the people I don't know there. I love seeing a Westfalia nearly ever day. I love the way the dry air makes my hair feel softer. I love the long, sunny winters, and I love how much I hate the wind. I love that everyone has something out there. I love that everyone loves what they are doing with their life and where they are. I love that I love cloudy days THAT much more out there, and I love that I love Illinois THAT much more when I got to be but a visitor. I love that driving anywhere is a pleasure. I love that there is something to do no matter what when you are that close to the mountains. I love that I don't have to worry about tornadoes in the mountains. I love that everyone is so much more environmentally conscious by nature. I love that I feel so at home there.
I hate that I am so far away.

Today I feel just a little bit hopeless. That's no fun.

My Strong One

The yellow from the trees light the Earth when the sky is dark.
Blue deepens with waves of grey and rests heavily atop the trees ablaze.
My eyes turn down and rest just the same. They rest on my heart. Then my heart sings ablaze.
I see Creation echo His heart. His image is in me, and I am His art.
It surrounds me, unfolds me, reflects me, and molds me.
A greater joy, I have none, than to create along side my Creator.
My Strong One.

Melancholy

Since childhood I've known that melancholy holds me.
It's a tear which cradles my soul and a grey that consumes me.
From this tear, from this grey,  light shines out with much to say.

The summer sunshine drips with joy,
Spring colors excite our souls,
Winter snow waters reflection.
But Autumn, here, reflects me close.

The gloomy sky looks deep into my eye,
It dampens the Earth and in reflection, I cry.
But darkness is not what these tears want to bring;
It's colors far brighter, far more vibrant than spring.

From a salty cheek my own colors grow.
Just as Autmn's gloom sets in, the trees prepare a show.
They set themselves on fire with passion and fervor,
even as they sit so still,
so strong,
they sing a deepness in their song.

Through the leaves, through the trees, the gre sky and soggy evenings,
My soul reflects the contrast of this Earth in grey Autumn seasons.
Once again I find myself in a melancholy world,
feeding off the chill for a melancholy soul.

As it goes

As the leaves dip themselves into colors of passion,
so does my passion come alive.
As the sky lowers and deepens with melencholy,
so does my joy come alive.

As the Earth turns,
As the Earth changes,
As the seasons sadden beneath the sky,
Still I am His, and He is mine.

Divinity.

Bad attitude. That is what I have had for the last two weeks. A serious bad attitude. Some people saw it and others couldn't even tell, but inside I was screaming. Have you ever been to Ed Debevic's in Chicago? It's that restaurant where the servers are mean to you. It's a novelty here. It's a thing and people love it. I so wish Trader Joe's could have been an Ed Debevic's of sorts. I would have been in prime condition for a job like that.
Instead I bit my tongue and smiled. Smile.
Joy, though, joy is there even in my unhappiness. It rests upon me and seeps through me. It's the joy from my Lord, and I thank Him times a million for it. He knows my every need, and He knows just how to provide what I need with impeccable timing.

This week I was supposed to be in Moab, Utah doing adventurous things feeding my soul in the ways I thought my soul needed feeding. I was going to be on the open road again pushing my body to new limits and feeling hella good about it. Then, something kind of crappy happened. I felt that tinge, that gut instinct which I actually now refer to as God (because, well, that's who puts that there) tell me not to go. No Moab! I couldn't wait to go to Moab. I love the desert, and I love riding my bike, and I love road trips and hostels and new people! Also, the man who quit money lives outside of Moab. Finding him may or may not have been on my list of things to do. Okay it was. I was going to stalk him like I stalk everyone who owns a Westy. I can't help myself. But I knew there was no stalking to be had ever sine I listened to that inkling and cancelled my Moab trip.
Pray for something else, God said. I think that's the first time (or at least the first time I realized) God nudging me to pray for something like that. I didn't hesitate. I prayed every day for something to take the place of Moab because I needed it. I desperately needed it.

A couple of weeks went by when Kimberly told me about at art conference called Story that she had been accepted to volunteer for in the city nestled right in those days I had requested off work for Moab. Kimberly couldn't make the conference happen even though she really wanted to, and worked it out to where I could volunteer for her and go to the conference for free.

Even when the day came, I hopped on the train to the city and settled into my hostel, I had no idea what I was doing. Ben Arment, the director of Story, had a little huddle with us all the night before the conference started to tell us a bit about how things were going to work. I listened very intently; I wasn't even sure what my job was on the day I started working it. What I ended up doing was one of the most life-giving things I could have been involved with at Story.

Story is an art conference for Christians. There are Christian speakers and the whole thing is centered around Christ and around art. I hesitate to say Christian art, though. I don't even think that's a thing. Actually, I can save that for another blog post. Everything was beautiful there. The artwork, the performers, the music. I cannot even begin to describe the artistry that went into creating this event. Every piece of it was for the glory of God, and I think that's a lot of what made it so beautiful to me.
Anne Lamott was there speaking, too! I love her books, her voice, her writing, her raw self. She's inspiring and she was there. That would be my highlight, I thought. Anne would be my highlight, and my hostel alone-time would be my highlight. The part in-between sessions where (this was my job) I had to try and connect with the people who came to Story alone was going to drain me too much. I was scared that I wouldn't come through and that I would be a disappointment to the team. So I prayed for God to fill me what what I needed to succeed in this place.

Wow, did He fill me. Remember how God knows exactly what we need and exactly how to fill that need with perfect timing? That is what happened in these three days I spend in Chicago. The speakers were not my highlight. The alone-time was not my highlight. My highlight was connecting with the beautiful people and the amazing minds of the people who came from around the WORLD to meet together in this place for Story. Finally I was surrounded by like-minded people. I had forgotten that God made me an artist, and while I was off trying to be an athlete He was begging me to remember that I am, yes, an athlete, but I am also so much an artist. He has been begging me to create.

But God doen't just fill you. No, He doen't stop at the fill line by any means. He looks at that fill line and says, "I can fit so much more in there, and then I'll just let it flood out". Floods. Floods of blessings.
The encouragement I received from Ben, the director, and the fellow volunteers at story gave me tears. The people I met gave me hope that there are others like me out there in a place where I have felt so alone.

And then Timbre. First of all, look her up. She's an amazing harpist and a beautiful soul. I met Timbre in line for ice cream at the end of the Story conference. We talked for a minute but I couldn't concentrate on what we were talking about; this thing inside me kept telling me to ask her something, but I felt stupid asking her out of the blue. I wanted to ask her if she knew anyone out in Seattle... so I did. I rattled off names of people I knew out there. I didn't know if this girl had ever been to Seattle, I didn't know if this girl would think I was joking when I started saying random travel names, but I took a chance and to my GREAT joy Timbre knew every person I named off and had traveled with them. Only a very dear person knows people with names like Okiedoke and Cricket. We have more friends in common than we realized. She and I were shocked and pleased and giddy with excitement about our connection. What a weird thing to happen.

We talked and talked, and suddenly Timbre asked if I had vivid dreams. Vivid dreams? Yes, actually, I often have vivid dreams. "Sarah," she said, "I feel like the Lord wants me to tell you a few things", so Timbre went on to give me encouragement in things she had no idea I was doubting myself in. She prayed for me in ways that no one would have known to pray for me in. She lifted me up in the spots that no one knew I felt most weak in. And she told me things that only God would know.
This is the truth: God speaks through us in art, in affection, in feelings, but also in words from other people. Prophets? Yeah, they're you and me. They're Timbre. They are the people who are open to God enough to hear what God has to say and bold enough to repeat it.

There are a lot of things that are uplifting and beautiful that you can find in the secular world. There are a lot of ways to feel blessed. But to be open to and living in God's spiritual world as well has got to be the most incredible thing. The way that Timbre came into my life at that time, and the things she said was truly only something God could have orchestrated. Even as you read this and think "that's cool" or maybe you think, "that's creepy", I don't know, I will never be able to express how deep a joy it gives me.
He knows the depths of your heart, and He knows just how to weave together a tapestry of experiences that please you in a way no one would understand. He wants to give you an experience that is specialized to you. It's frustrating for me in a way not to be able to get anyone to understand how much joy that interaction brought to me, but it also feels so special because it's one of those things that God only understands. It's between me and Him. It's our thing. Timbre won't even know the depths of what that moment did for me. That is something you don't get without a God. And when I get to experience those things I know there is Divinity at work around us all the time.

Mike and I walked in the dark, chilly, Chicago rain to our bus that would take us to the Metra. I just met Mike that day but I had the greatest four, five, six, however long it was that it took us to get from Park Church to the Suburbs via feet, bus, and train. It was a long time. Between singing DC Talk, quoting Homestarrunner, and experiencing the out-of-control homeless man throwing things at the windows from outside the station, it flew by too fast. What a top-notch way to end a phenomenal weekend.

Now I realize. I finally got to experience the divinity of Spiritual community. Nowhere in this broken world can a stranger walk up to you and know things about you no one else would know, and encourage you in places you most need to be encouraged. But that is how my Divine Maker does it. That is why just normal human community is not enough, but with God it's bigger than enough. Not only is it enough but it's delightful beyond measure.
God's dreams for us are tenfold times anything we could ever dream up for ourselves. Sometimes you have to die to yourself to let God get those dreams rolling, though. That's why I'm here. That's why I'm in Wheaton.

Let there be

Boy, am I technologically challenged. I know I've said it before. I've left it on voice messages without even knowing it. But today I realized just how technologically challenged I am.
I am at an art conference in Chicago called Story. It is here that realization came clear to me and my iPhone-less hand. How do you download an app? You can MAKE apps? How many people here are talking about making their own videos? You can do that? I can't even get the paragraph spacing right on my blog.
I will admit that this place has made me hate technology less. Okay. It's made me see that it's not all consumerism and bad. It can be used to glorify God in various art forms. Here it is used with glory and not glorified. There we go, a healthy balance indeed.
But that's not what I want to talk about. Kinda'.


I have written quite a few posts on this here technological machinery about God's creation, his artwork, and us as his greatest artwork. I have tried to convey the amount of joy he must find in us as his greatest piece of art. Think of your most prized work as an artist. Think of the fondness you feel towards that thing, and then think of how much more so God feels that towards us as this planet... this universe.
My feelings and thoughts towards this skyrocketed into a whole new level of understanding today as one of the speakers conveyed something at Story. Here's a little background on what he was trying to say-

We take thoughts and we can make them tangible. We can make them into things. We are the only species who can take a dream and make it a reality. The rabbit thinks "hungry" and eats some grass. Although I may never truly know what a rabbit is actually thinking, that is basically all that comes from his thoughts when he's hungry.

What about when we are hungry? The God-breathed, made-in-His-image species that the Lord created. It depends on what we're hungry for, but whatever it is we create it. We imagine, dream, think, conspire, and then create it. We make something that was once intangible into something great. Some of us make gourmet food for our physical hunger. Some of us create businesses or charity's because we want to see justice in the world. Some of us make sculptures or mosaics to speak from our own hearts to others hearts. And some of us write words. For what? Sometimes I still don't know. But if it's a God-given desire then dammit, I'm going to exercise that.
We are the only species with this gift. Yes, beavers build dams. Have you ever seen one of those things? They're amazing. But they all build dams. They do it out of instinct and they do it out of survival. Each and every one of the creations that come out of us is different. They are individualized to who we are. That's a hellofalot better than a beaver dam.

What an amazing, bountiful, inexplicable honor it is to have such a huge gift: Creativity. Look around you; creativity is God's thing, man. And look at how he did it? He spoke and said, "Let there be..", and there it was. He anointed us with that power- The minds for creativity and the power to say, "let it be".

That is an important and HUGE gift! Don't squander it. Don't bury it. And don't use it with mediocrity. Do not, I tell you, use it with mediocrity. Do you think the Lord did anything mediocre? Let's see, "That human kind of sucks, but he's good enough I guess. Eh, we'll keep him. Let it be". Sounds like God.
That's not the kind of Let It Be he gave us the power to use. That Let It Be gift he let us have is a gift that lets our passions be inside of us and around us, in both the intangible and tangible worlds. That is truly a mind-blowing conception.


Guys, create. That's all.

Water saves. Water kills.

Let's take a moment here and think about some things. Statistics are easy to just pass by as statistics, but in this case why don't you read each one and let it sink in for a minute. Compare it to things, your life. Think hard.

-783 million people in the world do not have access to safe water. That's a lot of millions. Thats Seven hundred thirty eight.... million.

-5000 deaths a day occur from unsafe drinking water. That's about the size (a bit smaller) than the town of Estes Park in the winter months. Can you imagine the horror if an entire mountain town somewhere in the US was completely wiped out, dying because none of them had safe water to drink? And this happens daily.

-Water related diseases is the second biggest killer of children worldwide.

-Clean water in these places is to diarrhea as immunizations are to killer diseases. Water. WATER. They don't need scientists and doctors trying to help figure out how to save the millions of people who are effected by this. It's there. It's cover a majority of the planet. But it needs to get to them.


$20 can provide access one person to clean water in their village. Can you believe that? That's nothing. That's half of what a lot of us spend on gas. If someone walked up to you and sincerely, honestly told you that $20 would change their life forever in a way you could not imagine, would you give them twenty bucks? I so don't want to make this a guilt trip thing. Not my intention. I just want everyone to think about the impact of what we do, and what we CAN do.
I don't want to state a bunch of statistics without giving everyone a way to do something about it if they feel so inclined. So here's a way to do something about it:
http://www.charitywater.org/

Good news: There's a lot to look foward to.

Last night I wept for the world. I felt the brokenness of the world, and the weight of the world. I felt the sadness of the world. It was one of the most overwhelming and unnerving feelings that has ever entered my heart. I thought back to the fall of Adam and Eve and the world in it's days to come. Please don't stop reading because I mentioned the fall of Adam and Eve. I have a point to make.
I felt for the brokenness of the people who hate, who deserve and need love desperately, who mock and who lack joy. I felt for the brokenness of the ones who pretend they have joy.
I pray for these people. I prayed for all of you, all of us last night. I'm broken, too. Just because I believe in Christ doesn't exempt me from being a part of an imperfect people. I am guilty of all of the above things. But in the midst of the chaos and brokenness of this world I know that there is God who loves us so much. I know that God is going to make us all new and restore everything to the way He intended it to be when he created it all. There is so much hope in that. There is an end in sight.
I wish my voice were big enough to tell the world. The reason the Gospels are called the good news is because it IS good news! Christ has died, Christ has risen, Christ will come again. Christ redeems us. Christ was put on this planet by the God and Maker of all things, Maker of you and I. Maker of the amazing mountains you climb, and the trees you adore. He's the One who thought up the birds and eagles and seasons. He was put on this planet to redeem the brokenness of the world not so that we can have legalistic churches standing on the corner of the street blasting us and telling us we are all going to hell. Not so we can have door-to-door religious people bringing us pamphlets telling us what choices we should make. Not to tell us what we can and cannot do in life. I'm telling you now, the choice is our own. Christ is good news to us because it means that God is taking away the bad things of the world and making them good. That pregnant woman in Haiti who is eating pies of dirt from the ground has a chance to eat from a table filled with nourishment surrounded by people who love her with the God who created here one day. I chose to believe that is truth rather than believe that all she has in this world is hunger and pain, and then one day death. That is a sad world to believe in. There is surly no hope in this world without knowing that the God of us can truly satisfy her hunger pangs. There is truly no hope in the world if there is no God to reunite you to your mother who died last year. There is truly no hope in the world if that is the end.
Don't you ever feel the weight of the world? Do you ever feel sadness without reason? There is a reason, and it's because you live in a broken world. And the hope in that is one day there will be joy. I promise.
Yesterday I walked into work and was told to stop being so happy all the time, I was making everyone look angry. It was told with laughter and love. My joy is not my own. My joy comes from my Maker. Without the hope of His redemption I would have no reason for joy.

"Let us weigh the gain and the loss in wagering that God is. Let us estimate these two chances. If you gain, you gain all; if you lose, you lose nothing. Wager, then, without hesitation that He is"
Blaise Pascal

I know I am so preachy these past few weeks. My heart is burning with so much to tell, though! My voice isn't big enough to tell the world the good news of Christ, but God's voice is big enough to raise up mountains. Literally. God's voice is big enough to say "Let there be light" and it literally happens. God's voice is always big enough.
The reason I want to tell everyone is not because I want to earn "brownie points" in heaven. I don't even think that's a thing. I want to share joy. That's why I want everyone to know. I want all the people in this world to have the same hope for the world that I have. And as Pascal says, if I am wrong I have lost nothing. If I am right I have so much to look forward to.

Food for thought

Jesus' mere presence on Earth affirms the value that God had already placed upon our planet. "Because Christ took on flesh, we believe matter matters."
-Jonathan Merritt

The Christian idea of the natural order as God's place of action and dwelling is intensified by the doctrine of incarnation, perhaps one of the most remarkable Christians ideas. In essence, the doctrine holds that God did not choose to remain in heaven, but entered into human history in the form of a human being. Rather than demanding that we ascend to God in order to be saved, God chose to enter into our world, to met us there, and to bring us home.... if God valued this world enough to enter into it, and dignify it with divine presence, then Christians ought to hold that place of habitation with appropriate respect.
-Alister McGrath

Matter matters.

Scripture teaches us with crystal clarity God loves this whole planet. He loves it so much, He assigned value to it. He loves it so much that He paused and took time to call it "good". He loves it so much that He has entered into a holy covenant with it. He loves it so much that He reveals parts of Himself through it. He loves it so much that He asked us to take good care of it until He returns to redeem it.
-Jonathan Merritt


The future does not provide an excuse for the present. Wars will continue until the Prince of Peace comes, but we must still pursue harmony now. Hunger and poverty will remain until the Bread of Life returns, but we must still care for those in need now. Sin will permeate this earth until the Spotless Lamb arrives, but we must preach forgiveness now. Our actions today should be driven by our knowledge of what is to come.
-Jonathan Merritt 


The rest of the world grows clearer, not dimmer, in the light of Christ. God created matter; in Jesus, God joined it.
-Philip Yancey

Serve God. Save the planet.

Whenever I am tempted to buy something, I ask myself, "Will it bring me closer to God?" The average person is exposed to three thousand advertisements a day through radio, TV, newspapers, bus signs, billboards, Internet, magazines, and store windows. Many of us have access to cash or credit. What will we buy? Our culture shouts and screams just one thing: consume. How do we resist the world's cornucopia of goods, services, and merchandise when we are told by every input, both conscious and subconscious, that there is some thing that will make our lives just a little bit better, fuller, or more convenient? How do we resist the temptation of a laptop that is 5/8 of an inch thinner than the one we curretnly own and were thrilled to own twelve months ago? Haven't we denied ourselves a giant-screen TV... or a flat-screen LCD... or a plasma-screen TV long enough? What's the harm of one more pair of shoes to go with the new dress bought last week? And what about a purse?
Where is God in all of this consumer rumination? If you haven't found God at home, will he be more likely to inhabit a vacation home?...
The Christian is not at liberty to do whatever he likes. Christians are constrained by conviction to think about their lives, their actions, and their responsibilities. One of the litmus tests for a decision is: Does this action, saying, movie, etc., bring me closer to God? The more this question is entertain, pondered, and posed, the closer to God a Christian will find himself. ...
We exist in a living, created world in which the Bible tells us that God knows every scale on a fish, every hair on our head, and the flight of every sparrow. We are to aspire to all things godly; therefore, it would be wrong to go through life in an unthinking or uncaring way. Similarly, we are are not to ruminate or worry excessively. Try to keep a balance and harmony, seeking in all things to grow closer to the joyous bounty that God has provided in his natural world.
Now lets talk about food.

Food for Thought
  Two thousand years ago, Christ was born in a barn and laid in a feed box. This was a humble beginning, but not a cruel or unsafe one. In contrast, no one on the planet would want to give birth to a child in a modern factory barn. There are many industrial farms in our land in which animals never see a star, feel the warmth of the sun, or enjoy the rain. They live unable to lie down, suckle from their mothers, or mate. Animals that God created as vegetarians, such as cows, are fed other cows that have been industrially processed. In order to survive, they are given antibiotics and supplements. Dairy cows are injected with hormones that cause their udders to swell and produce more milk.
Surely if the God in heaven is the author of our Bible, he is dispelased with the treatment of animals in industrial farms. To excuse this sort of mistreatment, some quote the "dominion" phrase out of context. They ignore the Bible's hundreds of guidelines about the ethical treatment of animals....
Our current food supply is largely a product of the consumer movement that grew in the 1960s and 1970s. It started for good reasons, and with the best of intentions. But when consumerism becomes the driving ethic, it has only one commandment: Get the most by paying the least. In this system, dignity, ethics, beauty, fairness, and families that live on small farms do not figure. The only line is the bottom line...
To obtain billions of hamburger patties for a few  ents each, America's fast-food restaurants buy much of their meat from Central and South American farmers. These farmers clear-cut forests, often starting a cattle-raising process that can be sustained for only a few short years. The loss of rain forestes in South America means that the clouds they once made no longer blow across the Atlantic to drop their water on Africa. As a result, the Sahara grows by thousands of acres a year. What is the bottom line for Africans? More starvation. And the bottom line for Americans? Cheap burgers and growing waistlines. ...
To fight world hunger we need to do more than spend money to relief organizations, although that is a vital part., We need to change the manner in which we eat.

-These are a couple of experts from J. Matthew Sleeth's book Serve God Save the Planet.
There are some really great things to think about in this book. It's not just about fighting world hunger. it's about fighting for our planet. About being more in tune with God and the things he created to nourish and sustain us. And it helps you think about what you can do in your own life to live a little more intentionally. 

Alright... Off my soapbox. Preachy preachy. Sorry. But really. Burgers- cows- South America- clear cutting- no rainclouds- bigger African dessert- starvation. The butterfly effect, man. It happens. 

I hug fat trees.

Right now, in these recent days, I have been met with a serious urgency to be an activist for God's creation and caring for the planet. I am also met with a delicacy of this new passion He has put before me. There are so many political and religious things intertwined with talk of environmentalism. There are so many facest and tangets you could go off on.
I remember learning how to use a recycling bin and why we recycled in grade school. I remember learning to look on a package or bottle to know if it is recyclable or not. I remember learning in detail how composting works when I started working at Whole Foods in Seattle just a few short years ago. I am afraid to say, though, that none of this really struck a chord in me. My larger ignorance kept me from caring very much. Trash, recycling, yadda yadda. Got it. If my plastic bottle ends up in the recycling bin that's good. If it doesn't, then oh well. I'm sure tens of thousands end up in the trash, and my one bottle wont make a difference. I'm sure tens of thousands also end up in the recycling bin, and that WILL make a difference. It doesn't really have a whole lot to do with me.
How many years have people been calling me a "hippie"? For whatever reason that subculture stereotype gets pinned on me, being pro-environmentalism should be one of them, right? Not exactly.
Until recently.
To tell you the truth, the more I have been diving into my bible over the past few months the more I am seeing Gods hand in our planet... and, the more I am met with an urgency to save it and preserve it in whatever way is possible at this point. This is a sacred, and spiritual place.
In Genesis He called us to steward the Earth. He told Adam and Eve to work and take care of it. He has asked us to give the Earth rest ever seventh year, and judged Israel for not following his commands.
"The land is mine and you are but aliens and my tenants. Throughout the country that you hold as a possession, you must provide for the redemption of the land" (Lev. 25:23-24)
"The earth is the LORD'S, and everything in it." (Ps. 24:1). 

That whole Genesis part in the bible is where it seems so many Christians have gotten it wrong. Dominion over the Earth doesn't mean to rape and deplete it for our own resources. To steward and rule over this planet means to care for it in every way that we can. God mad this place to provide for us, and we must provide in return.
And while we're at it, lets talk about the "end times". I don't think, folks, that we're going to end up playing harps in the clouds.  Know I know this has been said before, it's certainly not news... but seriously. Can you imagine how boring that'd be? I'd rather stare at mountains than clouds all day.

Rev. 21:3-5 says "And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, “Look! God’s dwelling place is now among the people, and he will dwell with them. They will be his people, and God himself will be with them and be their God. ‘He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death’ or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away.” ⁵ He who was seated on the throne said, “I am making everything new!” Then he said, “Write this down, for these words are trustworthy and true.” 

God is going to make everything NEW! He's going to restore this Earth. We're not going to a new place. He's bring the Kingdom of Heaven here to Earth. "God's dwelling place is among the people". How great is that? If that's happening, then this planet must be a pretty spectacular place. 

To be honest with you I can't imagine being a Christian and not a hyped up environmentalist, too. I also can't imagine someone who doesn't believe in the God of Christ and being quite as passionate for environmentalism than a Christian could be. I don't mean any disrespect in that way. But if there is nothing to look forward to for ourselves or our families, than really what IS the point? We'll all die anyway. But God gives us a reason to live and a reason to be passionate about our lives and the future lives of our families, and the life of this great planet we live on. 
Pearly gates? Shoot. Heaven is coming to Earth. Screw the pearly gates. I'm going hiking. And with my Grandpa Bob. We'll talk about all sorts of things we didn't get a chance to since I was, you know, one year old when he passed.

"Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done, on Earth as it is in Heaven."

But how do I get my brothers and sisters on this planet to understand the weight of how important it is to care for creation? I struggle with some thoughts along side Anna Clark as I read in an essay she wrote about the environment.

"When I first started sharing my convictions about the environment, I thought, If I can just make people understand that saving the planet is the most critical issue of our time, we might all be okay, not understanding how sheltered and lopsided that point of view appears to many people. Try telling a mother whose child is terminally ill that melting glaciers should matter to her. Try telling a breadwinner who fears losing his job about the plight of the polar bear. Try telling a fundamentalist Christian who sees the end times as imminent that she should care about preserving the planet."

So much passion for this planet is stirred inside me. I want to be able to tell everyone that this is an important issue, and I want them to BELIEVE ME! But if they don't I sort of get it. I was once there too. I didn't care too much and I don't think anyone could have convinced me to care except for God himself. That has humbled me. I will not stand on the street corners and try to get strangers to sign up for GreenPeace. I will not glare at any persons for their ignorance towards environmentalism. I am humbled by my own ignorance and I now find myself searching for a delicate balance. I will NOT be an in-your-face environmentalist. And you know what, I will not be a perfect one either. I might throw something that could have been recycled in the trash accidentally. I might forget to turn off the light before I leave. I might do a lot of things, but I sure as hell am going to try not to. And I'm going to do my darnest to care for creation and pray for the awakening of unseen passions in the people around me. 


_____________________________________________


And may I remind you that care for creation doen't begin or end with recycling and shutting of lights. It's got to do with coal mining (gosh, that's doing so much to water and HUMANS that is horribly devastating. Irreversible things. People are dying). It has to do with Monsanto and their sick way of realigning and adding things to the genes of food and modifying them to fit their own sick ways of business. It has to taking the untouched places of the planet that have a chance to remain as they are intended to be, and then tying to pollute that place with dams and structures all in the name of progression. It has to do with over-fishing and throwing off the entire ecosystem of the ocean. It has to do with the fact that millions and millions of forest trees are cut down per YEAR. It has to do with a lot of things. And I think there is something more specifically that strikes a chord in each of us. It's just a matter of finding it.

The woes of a cyclist

If you are a motorist who frequently, or hell, even infrequently, encounters a bicyclist whilst driving, pretty please let me give you a few tips on how to go about this encounter.

First of all, if they're on the road and not the sidewalk be thankful. Yes, be thankful. Sidewalks are for walking and it's actually significantly more dangerous to be riding your bike on a sidewalk. Between other pedestrians and how fast one approaches the cross street on the bicycle (cars won't see the bicyclist as easily as they would see a slow-approaching pedestrian) it's just a recipe for hazard. I'm tellin' ya.

Now, a cyclist on the road should be following the rules of the road. They should be going the correct way down one-way streets, they should be stopping at stop signs and waiting their turn, and they should NOT be riding towards traffic, they should be riding with the flow of traffic on the right side of the road. If a cyclist on the road is not doing these things, then shake your head and your finger at them. Shame, shame to the non-law-abiding cyclists. They're creating more danger for themselves.

If you DO, however, encounter someone on a bike who is following the rules of the road here are a few things you should NOT do. Let's come up with a few scenarios here:

You come to a stop at a stop sign, and then the cyclist comes to the stop sign at the cross-street, STOP waiting for the cyclist to go first. Especially in the dark. I... ehhem, I mean, the cyclist, cannot see what you're trying doing in the dark. You could be waving for him to go, or you could be texting on your phone soon to hit that gas pedal and smash someones head into a bloody pulp. Sorry to be so graphic, but this is what we're dealing with here folks. Rules of the road: You get to the sign first, you go first.
Doing this makes the cyclist have to stop for an extended period of time at the sign to wait for the driver to go. The cyclist loses momentum and it's a pain in the butt to get back to it sometimes when there is, say, a hill right ahead of them.

If you see a cyclist on the right shoulder of the road... DONT PANIC! Driving slowly behind the biker because you have no clue what to do is not actually safer. Just turn your wheels slightly to the left as you gently pass by the person on the bike. It makes everyone happier, trust me. You get to go, and the biker doesn't have someone tailing them for two miles. The cyclist knows that you're an unsafe car to be around by the mere fact that you're terrified to pass him. Just pass him already.

Stop waiting for the cyclist to go first at the stop sign!

There is actually plenty of room on most roads these days for a bike on the shoulder. You may pass a cyclist and wonder why they aren't squeezed over to the side farthest away from the cars. I used to wonder that as a kid. There's PLENTY of room by the curb, right? Actually, there debris, potholes, sticks, puddles, cracks, and all sorts of other unfriendly things nearest the curb of the road. A ride near the curb of the road could mean a blown tire, and right as your passing by the biker loses control because of the blown tire and crashes into a bloody mess right under your car. No fun. Not for anyone. That is why we keep a relatively safe distance from the very edge of the road.

You see, a cyclist should follow the rules of the road. Therefore, if you come to a stop sign first and see a cyclist coming down the opposite street to where there is also a stop sign, GO. Do not go to jail, do not honk your horn, do not collect $200. Do not wait for the cyclist to just keep going. Be aware of them, but just follow the rules of the road.

There are some commonly-known hand signals that cyclist should use. If they're turning left they will put out their left arm straight to signal their left turn. If they are turning right they will put out their left arm at a right angle to signal their right turn. Pay attention.

If you see a cyclist at a stop sign, go when it is your turn. Stop looking at them as if they're just going to glide right in the middle of a four-way stop sign. It's a death-wish. They know it. And generally most cyclists I know don't wish to find themselves under your car. So, if you encounter a cyclist at a stop sign... go when it's your turn.
You have full rights to be just as road rage-y at them if they go when it's not their turn as you do at the common motorist who goes at a stop-sign when it's not their turn.

Oh, and one more. If you encounter a cyclist at a stop sign, go when it's your turn. I don't know if I mentioned that one yet.

Most people who bike on the road are not idiots. They want to keep their life, and they'd rather not be the consistency of stew by the end of their ride. Full human form is best. They are paying attention to every car on the road more than you realize. They are looking at your eyes when you leave your driveway to make sure they see you, they are trying to make eye-contact with you at stop-signs. They listen for you behind them, and they watch you in front of them. They are prepared to stop fast, doge a corner, and get out of the way. They look for your headlights and tail-lights at night. They probably more keenly aware of whats going on on the road than you are in your car. This is good to know so that you can stop treating the cyclist like they are a four-year old who just got their training wheeled taken off.

This may or may not have just come from a slightly frustrating bike ride home from work.
Good night, and good morning.
And try hoping on a bike now and then. It's good for ya'.

Creation sees You, and starts composing

"Holy, holy, holy, holy Lord, the Earth is Yours
and singing."

I am weeping. I am sitting in my bedroom and I am weeping because this song has brought such an overwhelming emotion to my heart. Gungor has created such a simple song, simply repetitive, and outstandingly moving in it's truth. The Earth is the Lord's, and it's singing. Literally the Earth sings at every moment. The birds sing, the wind blows, and trees clap their leaves and it is all a melody. This place we live in and are surrounded by is one of the GREATEST works of art of the God. He has woven together the branches of the trees and packed the dirt in it's place. He molded rocks and carved out canyons. He raised mountains and made them beautiful. He made them so beautiful, in fact, that we go to the great lengths to see the beauty of the world because it takes our breath away. That melody that the earth sings to the Lord strikes a chord in our own hearts.
I am weeping, though, not just because of this beauty and greatness, but because of the utter destruction that is happening to such a delicate work of art. I close my eyes and see mountain tops blown to smithereens for coal. Trees cut down to make way for miles of concrete whether it be a city foundation or more roads. I cry for these things. I cry for God's creation.
Yes, there is an environmentalist in me raging because of these things, but this is not why I'm writing about it. I am not writing to go on a tangent and try to get you all to sign a petition to stop mountain top removal mining (although that would give me great joy). That is not totally why this emotion takes me over. Simply put, I weep for all the things that have covered over His creation.
I sat here and cried sorrowfully to God for raping the Earth when actually we are supposed to steward the Earth.
And yet, the Earth is still singing. THAT is how big He is.
The canyons being blocked and filled with dams, and the mountains being blown to bits. The plains being covered with concrete, and the shores lined with skyscrapers. Yet, and YET!
Holy holy holy Lord. The Earth is Yours.... and singing. Still.

This is the song with lyrics. I really encourage you to listen. Click me.

Stankin' dirty

I was thinking recently about how I kept telling everyone, "I'm going on vacation", but it didn't really feel like vacation. When I was in the thick of it, when I was sleeping in my car, waking up sweating in my tent, cleaning my utensils in grass (which I like to call nature's napkin), and driving for hours on end I feel like that is my life. I feel like the life I live in now where I clock in and go mostly to and from home and a job is sort of vacating from my real life. I thrive in my real life. I thrive in nature and on the road.
After I cleaned the last week off of me in the shower today I stepped out and looked in the mirror. It was weird seeing myself all clean. In Kentucky I peered into the mirror and saw a nappy, knoted head of hair sitting atop a face with faintly fresh freckles from the sun. Dewey sweat sat atop my nose, and everywhere was dirty. I feel most beautiful in those moments. I feel most natural and in my element. Comparatively I feel at my least when I am done up. If I end up putting on makeup it lasts for only a few hours before I rub it off. It feels uncomfortable when I am so clean because I don't feel ready for much. I feel like I have to protect my cleanness. Biking or running is only going to mess it up. I hate thinking like that! When you're dirty, you're already dirty, so just keep on getting dirty. It feels good to sweat when you just don't care about what shirt your pitting out, or how you're going to smell to the customers at work. When you're dirty because you're outside in nature, it's just the way it is. It's natural. And I think I probably speak for mostly just myself when I say this, but I'll say it again... I feel most beautiful when I am dirty, camping, sweating, and just being plain old stanky.
I cannot wait for the day that comes again where I can be in a community of people who stink. Who walk up to me and tell me, "You're too clean", because that actually did happen my first day in Kentucky. I cannot wait to sweat again in places I never knew I could sweat.
Gosh. I love what nature does to me. I could do without the freakishly evenly scattered chigger bites ALL OVER my legs, but the rest I want to do with. I want to do with for a long, long time.

Group. Blind. Date.

Timing is a funny thing. It can be everything. It can be nothing at all. It can be excruciatingly long and it can just fly by us. It ages us. It's a thing... but it's kind of not. It's also just an idea. Time.
Today timing was a key element in making a hilariously enjoyable end to my day.

A couple of my house mates and I were sitting around talking this evening. Annie was cutting up vegetables, Ginny was preparing for her day, and I was sitting on the floor drinking wine (this is what my days have come to). Somehow our talking evolves into these elaborate ideas of... ready?... Group Blind Dates. We were coming up with the most grandiose ideas here. The main idea was that we would each set one another up with blind dates. We talked about prospects of different men for awhile. Who would go with who? Of course we couldn't go into too much detail here. It's supposed to be a blind date. Then, what are the rules? Can we say who we'd like to be set up with in hopes that our fellow room mates would choose that person for us? Can we say who we absolutely don't want to be set up on a blind date with? We agreed upon not being able to give out hints of who we hope for, but certainly we would be allowed to avoid being paired along with someone we are certain we would not go well with. Boundaries, guys. Boundaries.
Then it went on to how the dates would go. The idea of just going out to dinner somewhere is not all so exciting. Would the setter-uppers plan the date as well? Would it be a group date where we all go out together? Would we do a group date first, and then single dates afterward if all went well with the particular date?
Finally the consensus was a date in the city. It starts out with everyone separate (couples together, of course) and we end up in a place to dine together at the end of our day via a scavenger hunt. That way these blind dates get to go through some problem solving together, thus deepening the relationship and finding out if compatibility exists earlier than, say, after the 4th boring dinner date. Wins all over the place.
Now we run into the problem of how to find these men. Do we choose them from our churches? Surely we would then know these guys at least a little bit already if we chose them from a community we already had. Do we choose them from other churches? We'd need a little outside help with that. We've got to choose someone who's at least knowingly compatible in some way or another with the roomie we're setting him up with. We would need a networker. Someone who knows everyone else. Yes. Yes, that would be ideal. Where do we find that?
My mind wandered to all the people I meet at my job. I shared this with Ginny and Annie. "There are a lot of good looking, nice men who come in there that could be prospects, guys." It's true. Then I remembered someone particularly memorable from the night before while I was working. I was working the register and a man walked up to my empty line. I asked if he was ready yet and he told me, almost. He needed to find the applesauce and I could probably help him. Well he was right. I pointed him towards the right aisle and I told him which side it would be down. He repeated me to make sure he knew, to which I threw my hands up in the air and said, "You know, I'm not supposed to leave here but why I don't just take you." A rebel I am, and he pointed that out. To the applesauce we went.
Later on after I rung up a few more customers this man came to my line. Another cashier offered to ring him up but he declined the offer to stay in my line. I thought that was awfully nice of him. It's always nice to finish something you started, even if it's just a small interaction with that girl who helped you at the grocery store.
Once his turn came around we chatted a bit about applesauce and almond meal and what sorts of things you can make with almond meal. It was a relaxing and pleasant interaction.
I told Ginny and Annie that I could set them up with someone like that when I meet people in my line at Trader Joe's. I gave Annie the eye thinking about setting the two of them up, realizing how far-fetched it was, "He was really handsome, with nice blue eyes [wink]. I could tell he was a great guy. Now the only problem with finding guys that way s is it's hard to know about the whole Jesus thing." They both agreed, and we continued conspiring and giggling at ourselves about our Group Blind Date. It would go global! It would catch on and other people would get involved to meet others this way. Man, we're good. We knew it.
About twenty minutes passed by. I poured myself another glass of wine and repositioned myself on the floor in the doorway of my bedroom. Lauren was then home sitting around the dining room with us and, hark! What is that? A knock on the front door. Lauren looked out the window, waved, and let her friend in.
Drinking my wine, Lauren introduced me to her friend who is also friends with Annie, who also knows Ginny. We looked up to meet each others acquaintance and found that... well, we already have met each others acquaintance.
"Waaaait a second," He said, "You helped me find apple sauce yesterday!"

What happens in the snack aisle don't really stay in the snack aisle

Every other day is a hard day.
I can't quite put into words the thoughts I have. It feels like a sort of depression I'm in. People at work keep telling me how chipper I am, and joyful I seem all the time. How I look at the good things. That's is truly all of the Lord shining out through me. The feeling of much of my spirit is losing juice.
Why am I here? I ask again as I stock chips in the snack aisle. I pray, "Lord, I can't be here. Please help me. Send me someone, something, help me, please." I ride my bike down the same roads daily, and I know it's going to be that way for months. I only see the same time of day every day. I don't get to see the sun come up, or the sun go down. I miss seasons of the day.
I feel consumed by my surroundings, even though I try so hard not to be.
I don't feel challenged... let me explain. I feel challenged in the way that I am speaking of, being here. But that challenge makes me want to lay limp like a dead fish. If I do get challenged in any other way, I won't have the life in me to take it on. That's a depressing thought.
All I have to do when I am stocking those shelves is get lost inside my own head. I help customers, and then I stock cereal and my mind reels. Perhaps my mind would have more to write about than this if it had time to reel elsewhere; Somewhere challenging and adventurous.

Today after finishing one customers groceries I was met with a white-haired older woman. She put her basket down on the shelf and stood there as if to observe me and for me to observe here. It was a little strange, but so endearing as she stood there dressed in all white, hands clasped in front of her, and smiling huge.
She walked over to the other side of the counter and watched me.Then she spoke so softly. She had a quiviling voice, very quiet and old. She sounded like she had almost lost her voice completely... except for that one fact that I could faintly hear here. Somehow still, she spoke strongly. Her spirit was strong.
"Are you an artist?"
I looked up delightly suprised, "I am, actually!"
She looked back at me with knowing in her eyes, "I am too. I taught at the art institute for twenty years."
I enjoyed her. I ask what kind of artist she is.
Softly, she responded with such joy and confidence, "I am a writer".
"Me too!" I said this, surprised at myself. If she would have asked me that question first I would have had to think about it. I would have said something like.... I like to make mosaics? So certain I am an artist, yet so unsure of my medium. How silly. But there I was, just as certain as she was. Just as certain as she is. And she was ecstatic that I was a writer as well. She asked what I liked to write. Non-fiction, creative non-fiction, I told here. She did too. Her enjoyment of this conversation grew bubbly. I followed. There was a bond there that is hard to explain.
"We are so blessed," she said, "Never quite. Write every day. Don't ever forget."
She said it over and over again emotionally, as if it were the scene in the end of Titanic where Rose promises she'll "never let go", only less cheesy and freakishly real.
"Don't ever for get. How blessed we are. Write, and write every day."
I looked at her, "It's really good to be reminded of that."
She looked back at me still smiling, with her soft voice, "May God bless you very much."
She walked away with her white hair, dressed in all white, smiling brightly looking back at me over her shoulder, "Don't ever forget". I had to snap back into reality when the next customer walked up.

I have pretty neat interactions with people. Things that I love to write about and talk about. Things that give me hope in the world. Not often have I had an experience with a person that made that moment in time I had with them feel like a bubble outside of worldly reality. There was a spirituality in that which almost freaked me out. I wanted to hug her. I still do. I can't quite explain it. I so wish I could.

Then I went to stock the chip aisle....
Here we go again...

Piece of dirt? Why yes, I am.

I was looking down at the metal grade beneath my feet which I walked on. A hundred feet or so below the sight of my pink toenails and dirty feet was the Illinois River. I walked over it, not looking for too long or I'd lose my balance and topple towards the bicycle I supported with my right hand. A pick-up truck with a boat following zoomed past me and I jolted a bit, stopped, and smiled as I re-gained my balance. There was but a few feet between me and cars, and inches between the bike I was walking and the shoulder of the bridge we crossed together. It arched up a bit in that way bridges do. I encountered all sorts of little goodies along my walk across it: tattered clothing, fishing lines, old shoes, plastic something-or-others. When I reached the end of the bridge the decline in elevation had still a bit further to go. Looming over the end of that downhill was a massive incline. Fast cars whipped around a curve and I couldn't exactly tell how long that up-hill went for, but I looked at it straight on and said aloud to myself, "here I go", as I saddled up on my bike and headed straight for it along the road's shoulder.
Exhilarating was launch. I peddled hard to keep my speed while grinning a giggly grin. You know that kind you just can't wipe off? I know it all too well from any sort of downhill cycling exploration.
Once I started to reach the beginning of the incline I switched gears, and soon I switched again. I got into my lowest gear and put all my muscle into this bad boy. Pumping hard, the grin was replaced with a very serious game-face. I focused on one pedal at a time synchronizing it with steady breathing. I focused not on how difficult the hill was making my life, but on how amazing it was that I had just climbed that hill on two wheels, how God made our bodies beautiful, how I. am. awesome. Conceit, there was none of. You have to tell yourself you're awesome when you're doing something tough. Your body listens to your mind. I've been on some difficult runs through the Rockies that I wouldn't have finished if I didn't tell myself how amazing my body was through the entirety of the run. Truly. All of the sudden I was at the top of this looming hill faster than I had anticipated. It was amazing that I had climbed that hill so thoughtfully, reaching the top, then as soon as I put my mind to rest rolling along flat road my body started to weaken. I felt shaky and light-headed. I could hear my body, "alright Mind, I heard ya', I listened to ya', we got up the hill. Now listen to your Body and make a little pit stop, woodgya?" You got it.
I pulled over and lay flat on my back in the grass staring up at the opaque Midwestern sky. It was white with deepening pale-blue waves throughout. There is no more a satisfying moment than accomplishing something with your mind and your body in cahoots with each other, and then stopping to nurture them both. I drank my water, I ate my Cliff bar, and I reveled in the beauty I was surrounded by as my body slowly repaired enough to bike my way back to my campsite.
Each time I do something like that I remember why I love riding my bike, running, hiking mountains that peak in the sky. There is a deep connection with body, soul, mind, nature, that these things force you to have if you want to succeed.
With each of these things I am brought close to my Lord.

"For you formed my inward parts; you knitted me together in my mother's womb.
I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made.
Wonderful are your works; my soul knows it very well.
My frame was not hidden from you, when I was being made in secret,
intricatly woven in the depths of the earth."

PS. We are God-breathed dirt. We are formed from this earth. We are intricately a part of this earth. This is no metaphor, God-breathed dirt. This is what we come from. And if you want to know any of the amazingness of dirt I recommend "Dirt! The Movie" (Netflix, man), but more so than this incredible substance that covers the earth from which we were made, we are also made in His image and God-breathed. No wonder we have such a connection with nature.
Take care of your God-breathed body. It's sacred. Even more sacred than the earth we live in. Don't litter the earth, don't litter your body. For you are fearfully and wonderfully made.

The Christians who are dooming the world. Need I say more? Yes, actually

Napverville.... come ON now. I don't even know what to say.
Already I don't really like Naperville, and I feel the liberty to truly say that since I lived there. I realize not EVERYONE has their nose stuck up in the air in that city, but a lot of them do.
Since I've moved back to the suburbs from the mountains I have done my darn best to stay away from that city. The drivers get meaner there, the skin gets more cancerous there (tanning beds), the makeup gets thicker, the douche bags get douchier. You get the picture. It just is. I don't like even merely walking the sidewalks. But that is not the point of this.
The point is the closest Barnes N Noble to me is in Naperville, and I was doomed to drive into the depths of this city to go browse the books. This time around my experience wasn't turning out so bad. I went in, I browsed, (the guy at the checkout line had some serious anger issues, but nobody's perfect) and I walked out holding the door for a couple of folks walking in. Just about to turn the corner for my escape those couple of folks came charging around after me introducing themselves as So-and-so Blah-Blah from the Theological Yadda-Yadda there in downtown Naperville. Okay, I thought, this aught'a be interesting. And, on she goes. And on and on and on and on, "Yadda yadda blah blah, over and over and some more blah blah, and the bible says that God represents both male and female, so he has a feminine side as well. So what are your thoughts on that?"
Let's get a clearer picture of not only what I'm hearing, but what I'm looking at. I'm looking at a trendy girl with point to make. She's standing with one foot closer to me and the other foot back, and from the waist up she is leaning at me, talking at me (not to me, there's a big difference), uncomfortably close to my face, looking me straight in the eye. If she's actually a friendly person, she didn't show it. It seemed like she was ready for a fight.
Back to the "conversation". I respond to her inquiry, "Well that's a really broad thing to just give my thoughts on all of the sudden. Can you narrow down what you're looking for a little bit?" That's a pretty direct question, right? You'd think a direct answer would be simple. But on she goes, "Well, the bible says that yadda yadda blah blah blah blah blah, and blah blah, and Jesus is coming a second time, and he already came once, so when he comes again that will be the second coming of Christ, so blah blah blah blah blah. Are you a Christian?"
"Well, yeah, actually," I responded.
"Would you be interested in getting together to talk about this more?"
"Not really. I have my own church and community that I'm a part of. I'm actually not really interested in talking about this right now, either."
That was a shocker. She was ready for defense at this point.
What would be the proper response to someone who you bothered on the street corner minding their own business who said that they didn't want to continue the conversation? Say, "thank you for your time", and be on your way. What's the very, very wrong way to respond to this? Look to the woman in my face...
"Well the bible says that Jesus is coming a second time, yadda yadda yadda yadda yadda yadda yadda, and on and on and on and on............................" I kid you not, she talked so much I really just stopped listening.
I interrupted getting a bit angry at this point, "Okay, so what is your point here? Are you trying to 'save' me? I told you that I am already a Christan and I'm still not interested in talking about this with  you. So can you tell me what the point of all of this is right now? I came in to get my book and go home. Now I want to go home. I'm not interested in this conversation." How many times do I have to say it?
It became clear that everything I say to her went in one ear and out the other, and her voice got louder and more dominant, "Jesus is coming a second time................... blah blah..................... blah blah...............[more loud talking at me]"
I interrupted again, "Listen, I told you I have a church and a community who I can talk to this stuff about if I want to, and right now I don't."
There was a man who was standing off to the left of her and a little bit behind her, her back-up. Finally she gave up on my salvation and looked back at him. He chimed in saying the exact things that this girl kept repeating over, and over, and over, and over again to me about Jesus' second coming, and ends with, "We really need you to just consider this".
Did I NOT just tell you that I wasn't interested in talking about this? Did I not just say that I had a church and community of other Christian folk? Because it sure as hell sounds to me like you're still trying to save my soul? Have you no ears or eyes?
What really gets to me is that these people are walking the street so of Naperville doing whatever they're trying to do, in people's faces, and refusing to listen to the other person. They are so ready for a fight, for someone to disagree, and they can't even tell when someone is NOT disagreeing, they just simply don't wish to engage when someone pulls them away from their day and refuses to let them go.
These people are representing Christians. It really makes my blood boil. That was far from a Christ-like encounter, and in the name of Christianity.
I'm having horrible flashbacks to prayer and witnessing nights in high school going on the streets with other youth group members and talking to people in Naperville about Jesus. Let's see how impersonal we can make Christianity. Let's see how annoying we can be. I actually ache for the people that get encountered on those sorts of things. What a travesty.
I do commend the courage it takes to walk up to someone and just start doing that. I do commend the passion one must have to do this in such a way. But really don't agree with it. Maybe in another time, another place, or another culture. Not here, guys, not here.
Not only is it pissing off those who are not Christians, but it's pissing off those who are.
I still have no idea what the student's point was. They were very defensive and kind of offended by the end of the "conversation", which is a shocker. They're offended? Who pulled me away and talked at me in my face with disregard to anything I had to say?
After the man told me to "consider this" I stared at him with my eyebrows raised and said, "Okay" in an angry tone, and walked away. My grace was gone. I had none for them. Not entirely Christ-like on my end either, but it seemed as though there was no other way to escape.
Who is raising up Christians like this? I'd like to write a letter and let them know what's on my mind.

Looking through these windows

There are many things Facebook is not good for. Two weeks ago I took a week off from the F-book and barely want to go back on for some of these good-for-nothing reasons. What, might you ask, are some of these things? Well, there is the obvious, of course. There is the fact that it starts to slowly suck up more time than you had ever planned it would, that it is an easy thing to jump onto when you're bored.
Things that I wasn't expecting to feel when I finally signed back into Facebook after that 7th day, though, have become more reason than the rest for me to want to stay away: Envy, nostalgia, longing, sadness. It mostly has to do with where I am at in my life right now. I'm sure not everyone signs onto Facebook and has a rush of these feelings being sent through every vein in their body. My news feed is packed with those Colorado friends of mine doing awesome things, going awesome places. Photographs of big rocks, and mountain landscapes, wild animals. Then I look out my window which sits behind my computer screen and see a lattice fence, a big house, but just a sliver of sky. My front door? More houses, fancy cars. Out my windows at work? A Starbucks drive-thru, stoplights, more fancy cars, giant grocery stores.
When I looked out my windows in Colorado I saw herds of elk, Mt. Ypsylon towering over the surrounding snow-caps, bathing in the sun. I saw trees and trees and trees. My heart is aching in pain thinking about it all.
The excitement and freshness of being in a new place (I use "new" loosely) has now officially worn off. No longer do I feel like I'm on another adventure in life. I feel like I live in the Chicago Suburbs. I feel horribly different from the people around me. I feel like I don't really fit in anywhere here. I can't get out to anywhere that gives me life until I jump in my car and drive at least two hours away, but the mind of the culture here in the suburbs is to keep you close by making these gas prices ungodly high. That way you don't go too far. You keep close to the shopping malls, salons, fancy restaurants and expensive coffee shops. A day off here is going to get ice cream, going out to eat, or some other form of spending money.
What was a day off in Colorado? Mountains. Nature, activity.
I know God is everywhere. He is omnipresent. He meets you where you need to be met. But I am having trouble finding him here. My most glorious experiences of God is in the nature of the world around us. I see His bigness in those Mountains and rock formations, and his delicacy in wild flowers and small wild animals. His strength in the elk and mountain lion, and the rushing rivers. God surrounds me while I'm traveling in adventure whether I like it or not, whether I ask for him to or not. He's there.
Now I'm in a culture that doesn't really celebrate that part of the world. God's artwork has been striped and replaced with four, five, six-lane highways, big buildings, and car dealerships. I'm sitting in a cafe now, and looking out this particular window I see the neighboring store: Autumn Woods. Nice, right? Actually it's a home furnishing store. "Kitchens, Bathrooms, Bars, Entertainment, Counter-tops, Home office". Everything you need to stay couped up in your air conditioned house and never leave.
It feels like a part of me is dying inside. I listened to God when he asked me to move here for community, for whatever the hell it is that he want's me here for. It was exciting not to know. But now I'm here. I'm living day to day, hour to hour. I had a dream last night that I moved back to Colorado. I was SO excited to be going back so soon. As soon as I had unpacked all my things, I plopped down in my bed and realized that I had made a HUGE mistake. I had to get back to Illinois and I had no idea what for.
What's going on here? I don't want to just wait around for some big awesome thing to be happening. I want to live my life, but I don't know what that looks like here, now. I know that part of me is just waiting for whatever to happen so that I can leave and get on with my life. That's not right either. But I'm afraid my soul might die here before I can ever start to find life in this place.
Holding back my tears in this public place, I pray God, please meet me here. I have so much more to pray for, but have lost the ability to express it.

flowers, bitches.

If I could I would work 20 hours a week, be super poor, and do all the fun things that I love to do. I'd have all the flexibility in the world, and be completely happy. All you two-jobbers out there amaze me. That is not something I would ever want to put upon myself. Never will I submit myself or my time to the position of holding two jobs... except for this one week.
I'm currently in transition from going from Starbucks to Trader Joe's, and the working is overlapping by one week.
Shoot me now.
Yesterday I got to enjoy my first day at Trader Joe's at a not-so-bright and early hour of 5am. After getting off work at 130pm I made my way right over to Starbucks where I worked a full shift from 2pm-10pm. That's allotah work, dude. But it gets better.
The next morning I oh-so enjoyed waking up at 4am to start my second day at Trader Joe's at 5am for another hearty eight-hour shift (no Starbucks to follow.. thank the heavens above).
But oh, it get's better.
Errit. Rewind. When I first scheduled my interview I actually forgot the day it was scheduled for about five minutes after I hung up the phone with the person. Awesome. I had to call back later to find out when my interview was scheduled for.
tirrE. Fast forward. Yesterday, when I showed up for my "first day" everyone was acting funny around me for a few minutes until I was approached to be told that I actually wasn't supposed to start until the next day. Oh, wait, you mean that brain thing up there is for storing useful and important information such as really essential things about when I'm supposed to be interviewed and start a new job? Why did they hire me again?
Because I work 23 hours in two days and don't complain about it, bitches. Okay. Sorry. When my eyelids start to shut down, the gloves come off, the vulgarity comes out. Deal with it, bitches.
Just kidding ;)
Anyway. Now I'm going to transition this from saying vulgar words to talking about Jesus. It's a big leap. Live a little (I should be telling that to myself for the last 48 hours of my life I just lost spending most of it clocked into a time-punch, answerin' to Tha Maan.)
Back to Jesus.
Yesterday when I had about four hours left of my working day I was about to lose it. I was trying to multitask with little to zero brain power, and then a poor new-hire got stuck with me to train him on Drive Thru while I was being the miserable, sad little girl that I was. Whaaaa. No coffee in the world could give me enough energy for this. But I pushed through, so, so, so in love with my bed when I got to un-gracefully trip into it when I finally got home to take a nice long nap in the middle of the night before my long morning at TJ's the following day, my "first day", right? Serious run-on sentence.
This morning, going in for that last, long full shift at TJ's I was summoned to go work with Cindy in Flowers for the morning. From 5am to 830am Cindy and I talked and arranged flowers. I unpacked the most beautiful calla lilies, orchids, sunflowers, marigolds, and savored the aromas of the potted herbs. My whole morning zipped by in a joyful, sensual chapter. As soon as my fingers grazed the edges of those velvet flowers I felt the Lord taking care of me. I prayed all week that I would survive these long few days. On the home-stretch God pairs me up with the flowers and says, "I take care of you, Sarah". I was energize by the life, the colors, and the beauty. All my senses were adrift, thinking mostly about a fluffy bed, probably. At 5am this morning they came together and were brought to life.
I was struck by how fragile those flowers seemed... and were, really, but how resilient they actually were with the help of a little water, sun, and love. I felt like those flowers in a lot of ways today.
They thanked me for taking care of them by giving me life.
And I thank my God for taking care of me by being a part of his body and taking joy in his creations, including the people around me, and those colorful flowers.

Beatus and praus

Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth.

Yesterday morning I woke up and read the Beatitudes. The term comes from the Latin word Beatus, which sort of translates to Blessed. Fortunate, blissful, happy. Here, Jesus presented to us an ideal for Christianity that has more to do with compassion and and love. These are the values that Christ cares about out.

Blessed are the meek.
This one stood out to me.
They shall inherit the earth. 

It's easy to read the Bible and take some of it in literally, and some as some sort of figure of speech that really means something else. I'm really no expert on these ancient times, their ways of speaking, the translations, the culture. Often times I can get left in confusion, so I take a little in at a time.
But here I find myself reading:

"Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the Kingdom of Heaven.
Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted.
Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth.
Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they shall be satisfied.
Blessed are the merciful, for they shall receive mercy.
Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God.
Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called sons of God.
Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness' sake, for theirs is the Kingdom of Heaven.
Blessed are you when others revile you and persecute you and utter all kinds of evil against you falsely on my account. Rejoice and be glad, for your reward is great in heaven, for so they persecuted the prophets who were before you."

Jesus probably doesn't clump these things together with some of them having just a spiritual meaning, and some just having a literal meaning. It's got to be one or the other. Most all of these beatitudes can be said literally. We shall be called sons of God, and we will be in the Kingdom of Heaven, we'll receive mercy. All these things I learned growing up in Sunday school.
But what about inheriting the earth? That one is a little different. If the rest are to be heard literally, then this one should too. How do we take literal inheriting the Earth? What does that mean? Is it going to matter one day when the Christ returns to us to take us home. Home, I have often hoped, is much like this earth we live on, this beautiful place He made. Maybe it is this earth, restored to what it was meant to be.
Will the meek inherit the earth in the days to come before Christ returns to us? Will the meek inherit the earth after Christ returns to us? Will heaven be here on earth? I understand that we should be stewards of the earth and take care our planet here, but how does inheriting the earth compare to the rest of these beatitudes? If we follow these beatitudes we can see God, have the Kingdom of Heaven, receive mercy, be satisfied with our hunger towards righteousness. These are very literal, and spiritual-based things. Inheriting the earth is a much more tangible thing than the rest, and if it were meant to be spiritual as well, how does that work? How do we spiritually inherit the earth?

Now let's talk about what meek means. From the Greek word praus, it was used to refer to domesticated animals. Not wild animals. Powerful domesticated animals like oxen, who serve great purpose. Meek, we could say, means strong and in control. Not weak or passive. I read somewhere that "the meek see God, and they see God in everything." Truly. He is in the world around us and the people around us just as an artist is in all of his artwork. So we can be comforted that, although the wicked occupy this world for a time, God is in all things around us. God is in beauty and truth.
To become meek, we must take a sense of belonging of the earth, but only through God, as all things are His. We must be humbled by his presence in these things. When I think of meek, now, I think of a mountain man: living off the earth, taking care of what is around him, respecting the power of nature, as well as the beauty delicacy of it all. Living with it, not living on it, or despite of it.
I want to be meek. I want to inherit the earth. I want to be an advocate for this creation we live in.

Still, when I take it apart I understand it more. Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth. But I still have questions that go along with this beatitude. I don't need answers always. The desire is to be meek. God will take care of the rest.

"...Do not be anxious about your life, what you will eat or what you will drink, or about your body and what you will put on. Is life not more than food, and the body more than clothing? Look at the birds in the air: they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they? Which of you by being anxious can add a single hour to his span of life?... Therefore do not be anxious about tomorrow, for tomorrow will be anxious for itself. Sufficient for the day is its own trouble."

Bikes and Bodies

Two summers ago I decided to let this boy I knew wisk me away to Branson to be his girlfriend. I had everything on my back. My travel pack was stuffed full of everything I needed (and probably more than what I needed). I had been living in Central California with few responsibilities, less money, and nowhere to be. It turns out it's a lot easier to live without a car out West than it is in Southwest Missouri, so one day Aaron found some bikes on craigslist for me, fixed one of them up, and once again I was mobile. I first got on it and wobbled around a bit, unsure of where the height of the seat should be, afraid to turn a corner too sharp, scared of steep hills. Guy, my childhood neighbor, taught me how to ride when I was five years old. I spent many childhood years riding my bike to the candy store and to the park. It had been awhile, though, and it felt like it was going to take some good practice to get back into the rhythm of this riding-my-bike thing. I struggled up small hills (emphasis on the small), yet braved my way through the streets of Branson in the rain or shine. When I say braved, I mean it. Bransonites aren't exactly used to anyone riding their bikes on the streets. Most of them had no idea what to do with themselves when they found me peddling away off to the right of the lane. But for the sake of my freedom, I endured.
Soon enough I found riding my bike to be some of the most enjoyable moments in my day. I loved leaving my neighborhood on my way to work and passing the RV park next to the lake, shaded and content, old men playing guitar under their awning lit with chili pepper lights. I dreamed and hoped that one day my future husband and I would be a happy old RV couple with chili pepper lights. Laugh. But it's true.
On my way home from work it was usually dark. The humid night air felt refreshing on my bare skin after changing out of my work clothes and into bicycling clothes. My headlamp dimly lit my path in front of me as I headed home and down the hill towards the RV park, once again. A wall of cold air would hit suddenly when I neared the lake, and my soul was filled with joy.
That bike brought me freedom and joy.
Fast forward a bit.
 January 2011: It was horrible. I lost my nephew, my first love left forever on a train, my car broke down, I was broke (all within the same week, mind you). So I moved to Champaign on whim. I had a fever and a sore throat the morning I left to catch the train from the Burbs down to Central Illinois. It was 4am and blizzarding outside. I had a garbage bag and a backpack full of what I needed to get settled but barley had the strength in my body to hold on to it all. Once got moved into Kati and Jeremy's spare bedroom I was going to bed at 8:30 on a nightly basis; My heart was deeply sad.
I finally decided to make a special trip up to Chicago to pick up my beloved bike. My baby. My freedom. I took her everywhere. I fixed her up, gave her new handlebar tape, protected her from the elements, and rode her around town like nobodies business. Once again, she gave me freedom.
My nightly bike rides back from work started to liven my soul and invigorate me once again. Endorphins were flying all over the place! I felt alive. My body loved it, my soul loved it, and I'm pretty sure the environment loved it.
Relying on my bike brought me out of deep pit of sadness. I truly think things would have been different if I hadn't been dependent on her.

Once again, now, back here in Illinois, my bike saves my soul. Coming from a place in Colorado where I was surrounded by beauty, adventure, and freedom, I'm now surrounded by stoplights, cars, and beauty salons. Escape comes but two blocks away from my front door where the Prairie Path begins. I can follow it towards marshes, forests, little lakes, and most recently... Wisconsin.
I have come from struggling up teeny little hills in the road to feeling like my bike is now just another appendage of mine. How amazing is it that we can fit whatever we need on the backs of those things, and they roll with us? Bigger adventures are yet to come. Perhaps one day I'll even get rid of my little Abigail Von Wedge and seek to live with only Abigail Von Bike. Ride Across Illinois? Down the Pacific Coast? Across the Country? Around the world?
I am inspired and invigorated. That bike carries me through and away from hard times, and into adventure and freedom.
What a truly wonderful blessing it has been that my car was stolen three years ago in January. That one incident continues to shape my life. Without that, none of the following years would have evolved as they did.

Our bodies are strong and AMAZING things. God has gifted us with these amazing bodies. Treat it well, do with it what you love to do. Get drugged up by those endorphins. They're life savers.
Remember, though, our bodies and minds are linked together. So much of it is mental. If you think you can, you can. I truly believe that. Tell yourself that you're amazing. You are.

This is a great link:
Women on Wheels 

Of all the places

Today I surprise my parents. By the time this blog is posted my family and I will have stood around my new bedroom in my new house and explained that I'm not actually visiting... I'm staying, man.
That is scary. This week has been an overwhelming one. I'm from here- this greater Chicago area. I've also been back here countless times after I moved away into the world of traveling gypsy. This is different. This time I am over-sensitive to my surroundings. After having lived in Estes Park for eleven months (a big feat on my part- The Drifter) my surroundings have become not only a place my body is, but a place my spirit is and a place my spirit feeds off of. Mountain after mountain lined up, just miles away from where my feet were planted, huge snow caps. When the darkness falls it still does not cover the majesty of the mountains; the moon will shine and the snow caps will still glow. The bears and foxes come out. In the day time the elk gather in massive herds, and all things feel as though they should be.

Then I hopped in my car and changed my life. How did I change my life? I don't know yet, I just have this deep feeling that this coming year in life will be a big one. A huge one. Probably not and easy one. But here I stand in the middle of too many cars, busy roads, and an over-stimulated culture. I am overwhelmed. A pretty big part of me just wants to be back to where I am comfortable. Back in nature, where I can just walk to the base of most of those mountains from what used to be my front door. I miss my dear Joanna, and I miss going to work at probably one of the best jobs I've ever had. The reasoning for that being the people; the people I worked with who I keep so close to my heart, and the people who would come into our store for their caffeine fix. I have a whole lot of love for them.
But now I pray for continuing trust, and peace. If I didn't have either of those things to begin with I wouldn't be sitting in my new house, in my new living room, right across the street from my sister and her family in Wheaton, Illinois. Wheaton... of all places. Of all the places in the world I have lived, of all the beautiful things I have seen and done, of all the ties I have and places I could be, here I am.
The Lord is doing something exciting. I'm actually a little scared. I feel like I am sitting here in the dark waiting to have a glimpse of light be revealed to me about what I am here for. Right now I know nothing. I just trust.
A fitting week this is to move here: Holy Week. I've attended some of the services at my new church here and already have had an inexplicable flood of emotions come from just a couple of powerful evening services. These services are meant to mourn the death of Christ before his Resurrection. How fitting these services are to my emotional state here, now. I feel as though I am also mourning a death of a part of myself, eager to have a resurrection of my own.
Until then, I sit in the quiet darkness with my God and I trust him. In that I find comfort.

Mother Nature: Mama Hater.

Driving home in the cold night air, thinking about how wonderful my two-hour massage on Thursday is going to be, and how so very much I need it.
I pull into my neighborhood that is well-known to trap vehicles into the abyss of the mountain hills for a long, long time. So I gun it. Thirty miles an hour and I make it to my driveway, the deep snowdrift in my driveway not phasing me because my mind is not in the snow. It's in the clouds. Until a snowball hits my nice little daydream and my car stops.My car is severely stuck halfway into my driveway.
Temper ensues. Rage. My dirty sailor mouth tells Mother Nature how I really feel about her, and instead of her giving me a little gust of wind behind me to boost my fruitless slander and smashing my gas petal, she laughs at me in anger. Mwah ha ha.
I get out of my car, wind thrashing my hair into my eyeballs and whipping the straps from my backpack in my face (sweet revenge from Mama Hater). Every step I take balances gently atop the snow drift, and then my foot plunges deeply to the depths of the ground beneath me almost sending my face to the snow every time. "EFFF YOU WIND! EFFF YOU SNOW! YOU SUCK MOTHER NATURE!!!", my voice lost in the roar of the wind. I kick the snow at her with no avail, and almost fall again. Snow fills my boots, wind in my face, cold darkness surrounds me, and my front door seems like it's 97 miles away.
The door slams shut an hits me in the butt. I throw my keys on the counter and pout like a little girl.
Joanna's suggestion: A flame thrower. But she doesn't suggest a flaming torch to melt the snow in our driveway; she quietly knocks on my door with a soft voice, "Sarah," and I open as she shares her idea of a flame thrower complete with motions as if she's holding a machine gun, feet planted, torching our hellish driveway with what it deserves. Death. Flames. Melting horror! All I see is Joanna outside in her pajamas with goggles on, fiery glow in her face, holding a giant torch, laughing heartily, hot wind blowing, and melting away the evils of what Mama Hater has brought upon our household.
We fall to the ground in exuberant laughter.
Mother Nature, why you hatin'? Next time you bring this upon us Joanna and I will indeed flame your ass.

Shame, I have naught.

If you take Ex-lax, this is what will happen:

You will probably take Ex-lax at the end of your shift at work. A co-worker has some; she says it works like clockwork, so you willingly go along with these heathen-istic actions. What were you thinking? Shame.

What’s going through your mind is that it’s only 7:30pm, and you don’t work until noon tomorrow so you have a perfect window of opportunity to let the Ex-lax do it’s business, or rather, let it let you do your business. Everything should go smoothly as planned. Yah know what I mean? Right?

The problem is that Ex-lax is actually against you, you silly person. It has a demon soul. The problem is that you will swallow these laxatives, and then pull into your driveway only to find that there are many, many cars there. Your driveway is… clogged, if you will. Much like your bowels. And your house. Bad. 

No, actually bad is when you walk into your door absolutely mortified to see that your home is full of very attractive men. About ten of them. All of whom are currently drinking beers and having a jolly time, being attractive, and scruffy, and mountainy, and climbery… and will be sleeping all night on your living room floor. I repeat: what were you thinking? This mortification will promptly be followed by approximately two glasses of wine to try and ease the pains of… the pains. The stomach pains, that is. Instead, all you get from the wine and the devil drug is a night full of bad dreams of sharing bathrooms with good-looking mountain men, and standing in god-awful lines to use the toilet. Every once in a while you will wake up from these dreams in cold sweats, grasping your stomach because it begs you to just let it do what it wants to doooo.

A cold shower at 7am will not work. Promise.

What you will think, though, is that since they are off to do some ice climbing for the day they will be on their way bright and early. Not standing around, leisurely making breakfast and coffee. But you are wrong. They will be standing around all morning, leisurely making breakfast and coffee. More cold sweats to follow. In this situation, pass on all offers of coffee and any fibrous foods. Don’t. eat. anything.

Finally, the only thing you will be able to do, thank the heavens above, is to jump in your car, smile, and tell them you’ll be off to work early today… to… umm… use some of the resources in town. But Ex-lax can outsmart you, you see, because as you head down the hill from your house, your car will surely get stuck in the ditch, and you will have to grasp your stomach in excruciating pain while walking back to all the attractive men to ask them for help to get your car out of the ditch. That’s bad, until the car that comes to rescue you from the ditch also gets stuck in the ditch. I know you didn’t believe me that Ex-lax has a demon soul, but you do now. Ex-lax knows just how to humiliate you and keep you in pain all day.

Don’t think that one trip to that porcelain is going to make everything go away and feel better. Expect some terrible stomach cramps, light headed-ness, and the feeling of wanting to essentially rip out every single one of your intestines so this will surely never, ever happen again.

So I say, after this day has finally come to a close, you too, will fully understand the meaning of “Holy Shit”. But do you really want to understand the meaning of Holy Shit? Just say no.

Drink some prune juice for heaven sakes. Ex-lax came from hell, I tell you.