Subtract

Our world and our culture has become a math problem of addition. 

Addition is easy. It’s the first thing we learn how to do in math as young children. It eventually comes naturally — second nature to how we function and take in the world. But I think the way we utilize addition in all parts of our lives now — more is more — has become such a great and deep detriment to our minds, and our joys, and our inner worlds. We can add all day, but space is limited and real estate in our minds and hearts are limited to how much “stuff” we can add and add and add. 

This constant adding of stuff, even physical stuff around us, slowly takes up that beautiful and beloved real estate in our minds. What a shame. Our minds have such a beautiful potential for creativity, for love, for deeply human things that make us unique and thriving beings in the world. When we are thriving, we also help the world around us to thrive. We help the earth thrive, our loved ones thrive, the wonders of the creation around us become lively and evident and beautiful in a way that make your heart feel like its roots may just go as deep as forever in the soils of humanity and creation.

I’m finished with the practice of perpetual addition. The other side of the equation sign holds numbers so vast that I’ve forgotten the wonders of my humanity. My hope for renewal and life come from subtraction. 

Addition eventually turns into exponents, multiplying so quickly and vastly that we can’t keep up. Subtraction, however, simplifies. I subtracted the music and audiobooks from my morning. Now I can hear the metal on the wood stove crackling as the fire warms it. I appreciate it more. I deleted the television and cell phone from my routine, and become more in tune with how the light fills the house between the cracks in the doors, and what the location of the light in the house means — is it late morning, early morning, mid morning? The existing parts around me gain meaning in the holy solitude of each subtraction. For I begin to see that what I need is already here. I begin to see that my needs are really fully met. 

When I subtract, I make the space to see, appreciate, and create beauty around me. I learn to want for nothing, and see just how rich this life really is, how perfection is only wrapped up in perception, and subtraction leaves space to rearrange the pieces of perception into something pure and holy. 
For I think we can only begin to thrive when we can appreciate and practice the simple, but deeply satisfying art of subtraction.

Presence

 Write every day. What sings today? The desert sings. The clouds sing. Movement. My body. The closeness I feel with The Divine when allowing my being to be fully swallowed by the magnificence of each of these things.

With every sense I get to feel fully alive. I close my eyes and see the red dust of the desert kicked up by the wind where it hovers over a deep red earth. A depth that has seen and felt many stories take place above it. What does the desert know? It knows something, it knows everything, and it holds it there in it's red clay and rock. It knows it so well, that seeing and touching it actually bring you into it. You don't know what the earth knows, but your body is affected by it. When you touch it, your soul take a piece of it's history. You become the past, and the present, and future. What divinity.

I feel like I need the desert. Why do I need it. I don't want to stay there, or live there. I want to just be there. Yes, I want to play there, and boy there is so much to play. But maybe the way the desert just lets you be there is what makes the desert such a special and mysterious and magnificent place. Within this vast open place is an ocean of presence. 

When you're season is Waiting, presence can be hard.

 I have seen the depths of the human soul. The space of the dying is like no other. The beloved stand around with their eyes and their chests and their mouths oozing with tenderness that pierces the dense atmosphere around them. Entering such a space is holy, and soft, and wonderfully sad.

Wonderfully sad, because this dimension can't be practiced, experienced, expected, or re-visted. This is a once in a lifetime moment of the closest we will come to two worlds touching: the now, and the after. No matter what you believe in these moments, the spiritual thicket grows so deep and so dense when the dying begins her journey. It's deep and it's dense so you must slow down, you must watch, and you must wait. When you do this you must also listen, and touch, and smell, and cry. 

I remember every dying hand I've held, and every dying face I've stroked. If they only knew that a part of them has crawled into my tender heart. If they only knew that every tear I shed holds a little part of them. If they only knew that I am only an incomplete and imperfect vessel of God's great and beautiful tenderness towards them. If they only knew how honored I feel to walk a part of that final journey with them, to a holy ground where I get to touch the fingertips of my Lord. 

In these moments I think the depths of our souls know no limits. A journey with an end, that shows the limitless of our souls. What a beautiful and holy ground.

Where books go to die

Up at the earliest hours of the morning to study for a test usually begins a most intense string of hours that eventually lead me to a hard and fast brain crash by noon. Usually, hopefully, the test is over by then. The place most often visited by me next is not usually to a nap, but to that marvelous land of must and dust; also known as the thrift store. My reprieve from the world.
There is a lot of potential that these dingy buildings could--and do--offer someone, but for me it's not as much about finding a treasure as much as it is an invitation to be present. Funny enough, I find deep rest here where I can turn my mind off of all the potential future worries, and simply ask myself if I like that thing collecting dust on the shelf in front of me or not. Is it worth standing in that long line on 50% off days? But perhaps the most enchanting and rest-inducing section of the thrift store is the book section. I said it, the book section.
If I venture out to browse and buy books, chances are the library won't cut it because there is FAR too much to look at. A new book store is full of preconceived notions that all these books are a) probably new-ish, and b) already meticulously approved by someone. A used bookstore on the other hand, they filter those books too. They don't just take anybody's book rejects, they take only the good ones. So there we go again with the preconceived notions. But there is something endearing to me about the book aisles at a thrift store. No body screens them; they come in, and they go on the shelf. They are the ultimate of the book rejects, and I get to stand there for hours on end after I just broke my brain taking a nursing school exam, and get lost in a world of books with no reviews, no one suggesting that this might be a book right up my alley. I get to pick and choose from this glorious pile of someone else's trash, and usually those books are my greatest treasure. They feel like my own personal discovery, and when I open the pages there are no expectations, but only the world that my imagination forms with each new, and unspoiled word.
I am a sucker for the rejects. This is my place.

Perspective

I know, every time I write now it has to do with my time of living in Illinois. You could tell me to get over it and move on, but I can't. Those two years were so formative, and I don't even think I realize quite how formative they were. But I get to step behind a lens every time I visit and see that time from afar, and it makes me see things I was blind to when I was in the heat of formation. It's hard to see quite clearly when we're in the heat of formation. But that's why it's so good, right?

The third time back to Illinois since I've moved to Colorado, and I see a new perspective. This time I see deep beauty, and it was beauty that I prayed for and felt so distant from when I came here. I came to Illinois seeing billboards, stoplights, and cars. But now everything has changed: I see tree branches silhouetting the sky from every window I sit near, and I see a vast sky which watches over the fields of corn, grain, and farmland. There are rolling hills, albeit small rolling hills, and there are rivers and streams. I made it a point to ride around this beauty and soak it all in. I made a point to seek these places out so I could meet God there and appreciate all the work he has put into a place I once thought was a dump. On sunday mornings I was surrounded by voices of angels singing "Hallelujah" before Eucharist that still makes me involuntarily smile with the deep joy of the Lord.
I thought that when I stepped away from the mountains that I had stepped away from the beauty of God's creation. What I really did was step into a whole new way of seeing it, and being lulled and romanced by it. These things made me love Him more, and love His Church. I had nowhere else to go but to God, and to beauty.

Any time I look back through this lens to a dark and difficult time in my life I see what was happening: The Lord was wooing me through it all. He takes me to a place and says, "Look at what I can do, Sarah. I can make the ugliest into the most beautiful, and I can make the greyest into the most romantic. I can make you love the parts you thought you hated."

I am reminded not to take for granted the friendships and beauty that now so evidently surround me in Colorado. And I am reminded to still seek it out even though it sits there, not going anywhere, right out my back door.  I want to love all parts of life, and all parts of God's creation.
It's amazing to me that I can come back to this place now and see a garden instead of a swamp. Nothing, though, has changed. Only my perspective.

Living Radically

Since the moment I realized my independence I have longed to live a radical life. I don't use the term lightly here. I don't mean, "awwesome dude! That was radical". I mean radical as defined: effecting the fundamental nature of something; far reaching or thorough.

I have always wanted this lifestyle. Tasting independence meant reading about, and finding people who live this way, and to be inspired and learn from them. I wanted to advocate, defend, pave a way, and make a story. I have had such far-reaching dreams but accompanied with the knowledge that they WEREN'T that far-reaching because I knew I could follow through with them. Call me a millennial if you will.

I did finally get to escape from my societal box and do so many of these things I had hoped for; I spent awhile begin a penniless nomad figuring my way out. This was not quite the type of radical I wanted to continue to live forever, but the kind that would help me to learn about myself and others around me. It did.

Something happened in those years, though. In a moment when I felt furthest from God is when I got the most evident call from him to uproot my adventurous life and put those short roots down to give them some water, and sun, and life. This was a really hard road for me.
There was a thing so deep inside me that desired to PROVE to everyone that I could be as radical as I had dreamed and spoken of. A way of saying, I don't just talk the talk, guys, but I walk the walk. It's a hard thing to lay that down and realize, a) that I was trying to prove something, and b) that I actually don't have to prove anything to anyone.
In my very desperate need to find some sort of belonging and adventure I prayed for God to guide me instead of taking these steps myself. THAT, you guys, has been a wonderful learning experience: to know that I don't have to have complete control over my life, but I have a God willing and wanting to help guide me.

But for years I've yearned and asked for God to lead me down a path towards a life of living radically. I've told God that I will go anywhere and do anything. I'll go to the ends of the earth and live with the fewest things, I'll sell everything I own (which I have done in hopes of beginning this journey). Doesn't this world need radical people to step outside of our boxes of comfort and do the messy, dirty, hard things that others don't want to do?

When I moved back to Illinois a couple of years ago, secretly somewhere inside of me I thought that I was there to be prepared in some way for the radical life I have always been so sure that I was supposed to be living. In between working full time and reading about my new-found love for all things Creation Care (environmentalist), I was trying to find a way to buy a tipi or a yurt along with possible land I could live off of in Illinois. "And how hard could it be?" would be my constant and naive though.

I've done my share of entree level research on all feasible ways to live off the grid. But in reality all I could do was ride my bike to work and back, and petition for a compost bin at my house. That's about as radical as my life got for those two and a half years living in Illinois.

Now here I am, working two jobs, one of which requires me using a time-clock, the other of which I am constantly staring into computer screen. I'm moving into a small house soon, acquiring all the furniture I possibly can to make my home cozy and welcoming. This is the furthest thing from radical I could image, but this is where I'll be for awhile.

Three years ago I would have cringed at the thought of this. Six or eight years ago I would have cringed at the thought of this. But you know, I asked God to take me out of my comfort zone, and here he did. Here he brought me to a life that resembles from the outside much of what a majority of peoples lives (in our society) look like from the outside. And that's okay, because I see how He has guided me, and has blessed me, and has fulfilled so many desires in my life. Not all of us have to live a life of grandiosity to make a difference in the world around us. When I think of this I am brought back to Mother Theresa again and she reminds me, “not all of us can do great things. But we can do small things with great love.”

That's where my life sits right now. I am young. I have plenty of time to do those great things, but maybe I won't. Maybe I will end up living in the same town for the rest of my life living in a house with a fence and a dog and a minivan. But the Lord has taught me that even what seems like the most mundane lives are still just as impactful and important as those of us who go into the Peace Corps or work for International Justice Mission.

We must do things with intentionality. We must pray. We must not forget the rest of those around the world who suffer just because there are those of us who are called to stay put right where we are. But know that right where you are is important too. Where you sit and live, where you eat your food, work, and take your dog for walks: Small things with great love.

I thank God for the radical or conventional life laid before me. Only the Lord knows, but with all things I will be thankful and live intentionally. 

The cycle that never ends

I'm feeling deeply nostalgic today.
I spent my week in Illinois, and the entire reason for the trip revolved around love: Friends getting married, pumpkin carving with family, nieces, nephews. Beers with my old favorites from TJ's. There really wasn't anything missing. I made new friends and I got to get good, long hugs from old friends.
Don't make fun, but I may start crying as I write this. The older I get the more emotional I seem to get: Waterworks will often come unannounced and unashamed.
Today I decided to feed into that nostalgia by reading old blog posts... more like journal entries for me however (this is like a portal into my diary guys).  I admit that feeding this sad feeling is kind of a bad idea. It got worse as I started reading posts from when I first moved to Illinois. I read all about surprising my parents by moving back, all the bike trips I used to go on, and the little solo adventures I'd take myself on to keep sane. I read about crying at work because I missed being near daily adventure and beautiful mountains kissing the sky, and now I feel like crying at work because my community here is just not the same. My work community, that is.
I yearned to find God in Illinois, when before all I could see him through were snow-capped mountaintops. I searched and asked and prayed and desired, and as I read back on those writings where I felt I just couldn't take it anymore, I realize now that I was experiencing God so, so very deeply. God was meeting me right where I was hurting and helpless, and he was sitting down with me and feeding me. I see that with my eyes wide open after having gone back to visit last week, and now I yearn for that intimacy I once had and didn't even realize. I miss my family so much it hurts. Near the end there I was really realizing how filled I was by everything, by my job, my church, and the ability to daily interact with my family, nieces, nephew. That is all a thousand miles away, and I prayed and asked to get to come back to the mountains, to get to come back to another adventure and get to turn the page and start somewhere fresh. Now that I'm here, though, I feel like I need God to come back down and sit next to me... I need Him to feed me again. I see, I know he's in these mountains, but now I know also that he IS is Illinois. My hear is deeply rooted in Illinois. Here my Illinois tattoo grows to represent so much more than it even did the day I got it back in Seattle, yet I am met with those same feelings of sadness and pining for a place so far away from me.
Last time I was afraid I would be forgotten. This time I'm afraid I'm missing out a place that has been set and molded for me.

Gods hand was SO evident in every part of my being back in Colorado. But why is every road such a hard road when God is leading the way? I can trust it because my driver is good and He loves me so deeply. But now I'm in unfamiliar territory and I really miss that road I was on before.

Meeting the Lord

This morning at church I was struck so deeply with emotion; I danced in the aisle as we worshiped, and I felt the Lord so near to me. I envisioned him kissing me on the cheek,\ and romantically wrapping his arms around me as I so sensually soaked up fractions of this deep river of love he has for me. Some days I can only hear it trickling in the distance like a small creek, but today I was standing so close to it. The sound of His love so distinct I could nearly see the white caps on the water and the calm pools of eddys banking behind the rooted rocks. What a wondrous love. What an amazing God to captivate me so even though the human, physical parts of me want to say that the desire for sensuality can only be satisfied the ways my own understanding can know. But God is dynamic, and God knows no boundaries to our souls, and our deep hearts desire.
I can nearly feel his love inching around on my skin like a lovers fingertips grazing the fine hairs on my arm. I can nearly see his eyes looking deeply into my own, and knowing me more deeply than I could ever ask to be known. I can hold his hands which he places over both of my cheeks to dry my tears and kiss me on my forehead; a kiss that surges electricity through my most hidden longings and gazes straight into them with adoration. No human can enter that realm as my beloved Lord can.
I am wrapped up within all of my beloved Lord's adoration.
My skin tingling, I asked Him why I have deserved to feel so deeply this morning, and he gazes so lovingly into me and says, "You don't have to deserve it. I adore you." It's not earned. It just is. And I weep with love and I weep for what is to come and I weep for what I cannot yet know which will be so mezmerising and so euphoric yet so grounded when I meet my Lord in the heavens one day.
I heard a glimpse of those heavenly celebrations in church today as well. We silenced ourselves and I wept from the depths of my heart for the happenings in Northern Iraq. "Lord have mercy, Lord have mercy," I sobbed! And he answered with sounds of heavenly celebration for those have come to enter his Kingdom after unjust and hateful crimes have taken their lives. The bells are now ringing for those children and families and individuals. The Lord embraces them with His palms placed firmly on their cheeks as He looks knowingly into their eyes, and they joyfully enter into His Kingdom for eternity.
Lord have mercy for those who Love you and those who don't yet know blissful romance of Your gaze. Gaze into all of us, that we may learn to gaze back.

Man up and run like a girl.

About five minutes ago I fell for one of those links on Facboob. Let's talk about this for a hot second. I hate facebook links (oh, thanks for clicking on mine, by the way). I get caught up in the links and I get caught up in those things that go viral. In a matter of seconds the precious time I could have taken to do something productive has now gone to waste and has been placed with something that I will promptly forget about in fifteen minutes.
This is not the point I'm trying to make, though.
Five minutes ago I clicked on this link: http://guyism.com/entertainment/tv/best-tampon-commercial-ever.html

Watch it. It's a commercial about tampons, but you're not expecting it to be a commercial about tampons when you start watching it. It's a handful of young adults showing us what it's like to do something "like a girl". It's a commercial for tampons but it's a commercial to get us as a people to think about what we're doing, thinking, saying because it can be damaging. It's more of a movement than a tampon commercial. Why does doing something like a girl have to be an insult? It shouldn't be an insult. Don't let it be an insult.
Although this is a good point, this is not my point either.  

What I'm most interested in when I read or watch things like this is not always the content, but the comments. Our personal world get flatter and smaller as the world wide web grows larger. Everyone and their thoughts (and meals, thank you instagram) are right at our fingertips. If you scroll down on that link you'll see some of the following comments:

"Females have been SOARING past males in almost every category for the last 10 years or so. Better grades, higher graduation rates, etc. If ANY gender needs some company to come along and try to give them a morale boost, it's the BOYS, not the girls.
Count me as one of those who is sick and tired of women being treated like some kind of downtrodden and poor and helpless species, all the while American boys and men are slowly going down the cultural drain."

"Past ten years? You can go a lot further back than that my friend... it goes much deeper than the relatively recent uptick in college and graduate school numbers though. If you are interested in the cultural view of men, you can look at television, movies, radio programs, and theater going back a very long time... men are, on balance, portrayed very poorly (sneaks, drunkards, liars, foolish, reckless, dangerous, etc)... look at death rates for a much more grim picture... men have always died earlier and more often than women doing the most dangerous jobs any society has ever had..."

First I got really mad at these people. Then I got sad for them. Then I got upset with everyone. This is one emotional roller-coaser that I don't know how to reconcile with.

While the first poster may be rather insensitive, how can I be upset with a man who feels that his entire gender is being pushed "down the cultural drain"? That's a huge weight and sadness to feel. I don't think we should be upset with him. I think we need to reconcile the male/female relationship in our culture. Why is it such a fine line?
I am no sociologist. I am just a woman who loves my femininity and finds strength in it, hoping others can feel the same in their own gender. So let me hash this out really quick:
Women have been the "lesser" gender for so long, so to speak. We are rising up in a lot of ways. Some are rising up out of anger, some out of pride, some out of love. It's great, and beautiful, and exciting for women! But I can't help but feel that we shouldn't rise up alone. Men and women are still a part of the same species. Masculine and feminine are interconnected and dependent on one another in a lot of ways. They compliment one another (and I'm not talking about romantic relationships. I'm talking about it IN GENERAL). There's nothing weak or bad about this. It's a beautiful, symbiotic relationship. That's what it's supposed to be: a symbiotic relationship.
Women and men.... we NEED to hear more things like this commercial telling us that being a woman, and doing things "like a girl" are not bad. We need to feel strong in our abilities and voices and opinions because we are women, and human, and worth those things. But we cannot, should not, be putting down men in the process. We should not be telling ourselves we are better than men. Nor should we be trying to be like men. We should not be portraying men as "sneaks, drunkards, liars, foolish" in our society. We need to realize that when we put down the opposite gender, we put down our own gender in the process. We need to find the balance and find the harmony between male and female. Just because we let men be strong, doesn't mean we have to make women weak. Feminism should be humanism. It shouldn't favor one over the other. It should speak highly and with pride of each of these beautiful genders we have.
Let me point out that I don't think the video is putting down men in any way. I think it's a great video. But it was the comments I read after that got me going. I have seen too many things trying to build up women that put down men while doing so. It's STILL sexism. It's counterproductive. And on the flip side, if we're trying to build up men let's not put down women in the process.
I think the only way we can do this is if we stop trying to stand unified only within our own gender to be strong. Stop being a pillar of one gender or another. Be proud in your masculinity, be proud in your femininity, and realize that we are dependent on the other. Dependence is not weakness. Dependence is not frailty. Dependence gives us far greater strength than a single pillar can.

Downton Abbey, where are you?

I fought for a long time the fads of the boob tube. After watching way too much of it as a kid, and then realizing how darn nice it was not to have a TV around I sort of decided the the thing was just evil. The more time I spend away from it the stupider it seems to get.
But we all fall into the clutches of evil sometimes, don't we? LOST: evil. Totally evil. I hated that show before I even knew what it was about. And then it grabbed me by the face and sucked me in. Once I started watching Gilmore Girls from the beginning I didn't want to stop. WOULD Lorelei end up with Luke? What was Rory going to do after College? Drama in Stars Hollow too juicy to pass. Especially on cold winter nights tucked away in a cozy mountain home.
And then came Downton Abbey.  Is it Downtown Abbey? Or was it Downton? And what is a downton? Who is Abbey, anyway? And why the heck does EVERYONE watch it and care so much about the happenings of a certain place in England in the early 1900s. It's silly, really: wasting your time on a show that means nothing to your life.
Until my sister convinced me to watch just the first episode since it was there. I sat down to Netflix with a snack at hand planning to shut it off and watch something else in about ten minutes time, when in about nine minutes time I found myself enthralled. And doomed. One month later I released myself from the grasp of Downton Abbey and finished watching every available episode. Instead of thinking about watching it, I find myself just thinking about it. What am I thinking about so often? And why do I like it so much?
Geez.
Will someone tell me when Downton Abbey starts back up again in the States?
I got the first two episodes of this new season about a month ago from someone who downloaded it from the British folks himself. I need more. More more more.

Please be careful when you break me.

God has an interesting way of working in our lives.
Yes, our choices have a lot to do with our hurts and fears, but God plays a roll in what He allows us to bear or not bear.
So why has He cut my identity down in this one specific way? Why has He allowed for my heart to be pierced by this overwhelming insecurity? Over and over and over again I have prayed, and tried, and journaled, and processed about being forgettable. I work on making better decisions yet I find that I am pierced with the feeling of being that girl that just can't be loved, so she gets pushed to the side to make room for someone more time-worthy, more love-worthy. I am left asking myself what it is that is wrong with me? What did I do wrong this time? Perhaps I am simply not enough... not enough for anyone it seems.
Is God trying to cut me down? I know we must be broken before we can be re-built stronger, but God, you're losing me here. Some people knowingly (albeit subconsciously) walk into situations that will make them feel one way or another. I assure you this is not my case. I assure you I desperately want to stay away from the feeling of being not enough. Then does it make it true? Because I can't seem to stay away from this banner above my head, is it true?
Will God show me that these are lies? When? How? Or do I just have to stand here alone and take the hit each time.
I don't know how to pray my way or work my way through this one. I need help.

Why does God favor?

This evening I participated in a Shabbat.
I walked in the door of a stranger's home trailing behind friends of mine and was greeted with, "Shabbat Shalom". We gathered around a table, sang songs in Hebrew, praised the Lord. We shot some wine, broke some bread, and then ate together. The night ended with reading and discussion of Jacob and Esau (a passage I still find perplexing).
At sundown this evening began the Sabbath. Twenty-five hours of peace, shalom.

In a small part of our evening discussion a few of us pondered God's sovereignty and the fact the we just downright don't understand it. Now how could God favor Jacob over Esau, how could God harden the heart of Pharaoh but take Noah and his family to save and reap destruction on the rest of humanity? It makes my heart sad, and in the culture and world I live in, in the only way that my human mind knows how to try and understand God's sovereignty... I just don't get it.
I want to get it, I want to understand it. But do we need God if we understand it?
At this point a very wise woman stood up (not for dramatic effect, but because she needed to stretch her legs, but I like to pretend it was for dramatic effect) and exclaimed that one man she knew lost his home, his entire belongings, his life's work in the recent flood out here in Colorado, while her home was feet (literally feet) away from the river and was completely untouched. It should have been gone. "Does God love me more than He loves him?" She questioned and looked us deeply in the eyes, "No. Absolutely not. Absolutely not." But do we know why one house was destroyed, while the other should have been but wasn't? No. We don't. Every day she puts her key into the door and walks into her home she prays for that friend of her's that lost everything, and she thanks the Lord for His grace.

I don't know why God hardens hearts, and I don't know why he sends floods about the world. I don't know why he favored one brother over the other, and so and and so forth. But I can thank His glorious name for what I have been given in my own life. I can thank Him that He has not hardened my heart, and as I walk into the door of my home or open up my bible I can pray for those who have been hardened. I can take the gift of love that I have been given and spread it. I can ask God for mercy upon those people who's hearts are hard when they don't know how to ask for mercy themselves. Maybe part of why He does it is to bring us outside of ourselves.
If there is one thing about the character of God that I have learned in my short 25 years it is that God greatly loves to listen to the prayers of His people. But God is far outside any box we try to fit Him in. So why does He do it the way He does? I don't know. But I am grateful that I get to pray knowing that His ear tenderly listens.

Lord, I pray for the hearts of the ones you deeply love in this world that have been hardened to you, themselves, their loved ones, and all around them. I pray that you would place divinity and love in the lives of them that chisels away at the hard and the hurt to make them tender again in a beautiful way. I pray that you would place questions in the hearts of ALL of your people, believers and non-believers, and then provide them with truth in a way that speaks to each of them individually in a way that most romances them.
Thank You for life itself, and this Earth we live on.
Amen.

Shabbat Shalom.

The opposing places

Truly I never thought I'd ever find a place so fitting for my soul. As I visited countries and drove to different states, meeting new people in new places I never thought I'd find my heart able to grow attached to a place as I have with a certain mountain-y state called Colorado.
I am approaching my fourth move to Colorado. Yes, that is fourth, as in 1, 2, 3, 4. I visited, I returned with a job, then I returned without a job, then I returned again for fun and found myself with a job and a home and a community and a whole lot of love. Every time I return since I moved away last I am surprised by my reaction when I get back to Colorado. I am surprised at how fitting it all seems, and how comfortable I suddenly am. Here in the Midwest I forget that I am surrounded by communities, GREAT communities at that, but communities that I don't quite jive with or fit into quite as well as I'd like, or quite as well as the people around me do. No matter which friend group I find myself with here I am the oddball. I am okay with that. I am comfortable with that, but I forget how tiresome it can be when I'm back in those mountains and hugging the people in the places that I have been deeply missing for the last year and a half.
I woke up in the mountains this week to a grandiose view of the biggest mountains in Rocky Mountain National Park; I was reminded of God's bigness, and Gods creativity. It's something I've slowly been forgetting here. It's harder to see that creativity in prairie grass and skyscrapers. I search for it within the confines of how good or bad I feel like I am doing on a personal level because that's all I can see here, and that hasn't been such a great place for me to search for Gods bigness, because that's just a small iota of where His hand extends. The mountains remind me that God has His big ol' hands in all of it. They bring me outside of myself and my worries and the perfections and standards I seem to set for myself.
Being in Colorado this last weekend has made me think a lot about the culture of the Midwest and why it is the way it is. We have few things out here that remind us that there is a bigness around us that surpasses what we can see and plan. It then becomes so easy to place so much more value on things that really don't need such heaviness placed upon them. Here we have careers that guide our lives. In the mountains they have lifestyles that guide their lives.
I have been wrestling with why these cultures are so different. Is it place that makes them so different? Is it merely landscape? If we just switched the people in the mountains with the people in the Midwest would their lifestyles change at all? That almost seems to simplistic. Or is there something deeply ingrained in each of us differently, causing us to migrate the way we do nowadays, I to the mountains, and some to the cities.
How does this all work? And how can I convince everyone I love to fall in love with those mountains just as I have so that I can bring them all with me when I settle there forever?
Heaven has those mountains, right? The grass is blue and the mountains are huge.


(That was indeed a reference to there being bluegrass in heaven. There damn well better be.)

Where has my Keeper gone?

Today I must be real. Not that I lack the place of truth where my words usually come from, but oftentimes I write upon feeling a romance with life, with God.
Today I feel no romance.
This season I feel no romance.
Practicality strikes again. I say this as though practicalities are a bad thing. I don't believe so, but I do believe my tendencies towards some all-or-nothing extremes make practicalities somewhat burdensome in to my soul, just the way that my adventures end up totally extreme with me alone in a truck stop on the other side of the country alone and penniless. Right now, though, I am not living a life of adventure on the other side of the country. I am right in the middle of the country being as practical as I can.
Daily I pinch my pennies saving for a car. Daily I press my coffee exactly four minutes after it has steeped and leave for work thirty minutes before I must clock in. Daily I search and pray and wonder what the Lord is preparing me for, what I have in my near and far future, and where the hell is this car that I've been trying so hard to buy? I have coupled my prayers with action. That is how it's supposed to go, right? Faith without works is not necessarily dead; God does not work within the confines of our own human minds. After all, He made the hills and the trees, and those kooky clouds in the sky, but I also can't sit on my booty all day and hope that a shiny car gets dropped into my lap (more specifically, a 2002 manual Subaru Impreza Outback Sport under 130,000 miles.. ehm). I must work within what I know how to do and allow God to take care of the parts that I have no control over.
Where had that gotten me?
I had a man sell a car away from me the day I told him I was going to buy it.
Another man told me he would save his car for me so I could drive down to Indianapolis and pick it up, but he sold it to someone anyway before I was going to leave for Indy.
A man at a dealer lied to me telling me he had the car I was looking for, so I drove 30 minutes with every dollar I owned in my glove box only to find out he was lying, and he actually was going to try and sell me a different car.
Another dealer blatantly lied to me multiple times this morning.
Did I ever mention that I actually had a car stolen from me? I have. Cars and me are like oil and water apparently. 
In between every almost-purchase I began to leave the thought of buying a car behind. Although Abigail Von Wedge has 226,000 miles on her, radio doesn't work, I climbed in and out the passengers side for three months, she is incredibly loud, and has given me on and of troubles over the winter, I still tried to let go of the thought of a new car. Until the Lord put those new keys in my hand and nudged me to keep hoping.
So keep hoping I have. I have kept and kept and kept until now, I can't keep anymore. I can't keep hoping. I have a chiropractor trying to inject me with local anesthetics to ease the muscle pain that doesn't exist in my neck just so he can charge my insurance company.  I have a dentist who seemed so wonderful send me a $180 bill for the "free consultation" I signed up for. I have people lying to me all around me.
I am being lied to, and I am also being left behind. I have friends and family getting jobs, and moving homes, and going on adventures in places I would love to be. God is blessing them immensely and bringing them their hearts desire, their place of thriving. Yet here I am, hoping and struggling to even buy a silly little car. So God, have you forgotten about me? You know the flight of every sparrow, and you count the grains of sand, but are you watching over my life? How come you haven't protected me from the men who have dashed my high hopes at those cars? How come you haven't given me peace about moving forward with anything I have prayed for?
Once again my heart hurts for being a forgettable person. Not only have I been erased from the past of others, but from the thoughts of the God of the Universe. Aren't You supposed to be the ONE in this broken world to whom I can truly feel safe and cared for by? But I don't. I have, I always have, but right now for the first time I don't.
I believe within my heart of hearts that God does not forget us. God does not forget His people. God is not confined to our own boxes and understandings. God is in the details and in the big things. He's in the blades of grass and the snow-capped mountains. God is watching us as we open our eyes every morning and brush our teeth every night.  I believe that is the truth EVERY day and ALWAYS.
But my emotions teach me otherwise right now. My emotions are the most tangible thing I can hold on to in a season of life where I can't quite grab anything else.

So in this season of hopelessness, where I feel like God is being just downright forgetful and mean, I ride on my bike into the sunset of these spring evenings with my bible in my saddle bag and a blanket on my back. I marvel at the consistency of the sunset and the blaze of passionate colors that sweep the sky for only minutes. I view the Psalms through the light of my headlamp looking over the silhouette of the field before the sunset, and read aloud:

"I lift up my eyes to the hills,
From where does my help come?
My help comes from the Lord,
who made heaven and earth.

He will not let your foot be moved;
he who keeps you will not slumber.
Behold, he who keeps Israel
will neither slumber nor sleep.

The LORD is your keeper;
the LORD is your shade on your right hand.
The sun shall not strike you by day,
nor the moon by night.

The LORD will keep you from all evil,
he will keep your life.
The LORD will keep
your going out and your coming in
from this time forth and forevermore."

-121

"O LORD, God of my salvation;
I cry out day and night before you.
Let my prayer come before you;
incline your ear to my cry!
For my soul is full of troubles..."

-88

"My frame was not hidden from you,
when I was being made in secret,
intricately woven in the depths of the earth.
Your eyes saw my unformed substance;
in your book were written, every one of them, the days that were formed for me,
when as yet there were none of them."

-139

I do not feel. But I can act, and I can see; These things will help me to trust, because sometimes it's just downright hard. 

Oh, happy day.

Anxiety overcame my body upon the thought of signing back onto Facebook. Guys, life is really good without Facebook. Just sayin'.
I henceforth have decided to sign in but once a week. After-all, I do enjoy a little fix now and again. And I like ya'll.
What did happen upon that moment where I clicked that blue box marked, "sign in", on the Facebook home page? I was greeted with these things: Three new friend requests, three new messages, and thirty-eight new notifications. Thirty-eight is a big number to see in the teeny red space there. I should have counted how many of them were Farmville invites (seriously guys?) because they took up a very large majority of those notifications. Farmville? Really? I won't get started. Don't even get me started. Needless to say I missed out on absolutely nothing being off of Facebook for forty days. Actually, I did miss out on a birthday party for one my my sr. high girls at Rez. Super bummed to see that it was a facebook only invite. We should spread the love outside of social media.

Something I missed out on in another way was having people clickity click on my blog posts and read all my ramblings. There's just a nice bit of self satisfaction that settles in when the numbers of my readers jump after I post my latest post on Facebook. I've also noticed that my topics have changed for those forty days. I didn't even realize it until a few days ago. I seem to be writing to an audience that doesn't believe in quite the same things spiritually that I do when I am writing for Facebook. Without you all as my audience I write to no one but myself, the world, and the few people who I know end up read it anyway.
With the audience of Facebook I desire so deeply to spread the love of the God that I know to anyone I can reach.
This is the love of the God that I know.

Most of us know the story of Christ. Most of us know that Christians believe he was killed on a cross, put in a tomb, and then rose from the dead three days later thus saving all of us who choose to follow him from death. Weird story, I know. But what's the big deal other than the whole weird-factor?
Here's the big deal, guys. First of all try not to understand EVERYTHING right now. I know we like to be able to wrap our minds around facts and how things happen specifically and what not, and I don't minimize that. If that's something you want to think about, do, by all means. But for now set it aside and think about the relational part of all of this. Pretend. Kapish?
The God of the world, who created everything around you, and you yourself, has a broken heart for this place because He loves and cares for all of us. But we are imperfect and we do corrupt things sometimes because we do. I could delve deeper into that but I'm trying not to write a book here. How does the God of the world redeem us? How does a Father show is immense love for his children? He becomes human himself, he does the very thing that he was previously unable to do that we do... he dies. He walks the human life to pave a way and an example for us, because a kid without a parent to show rather than just tell is probably a lost kid.
The God of the world dies in the lowliest way. The man highest on the totem pole becomes the most humiliated man in the worst way because no one is too lowly for Him. No one is too broken for him, no one is too anything for Him. That's what He shows us, guys. He goes lower than all of that.
Then He dies. He sufferers immensely and dies at the hands of people who are still not too low for Christ, because no on is. Then, because He is the God of the world He resurrects. His body, his spirit, everything. He is still paving a way.

The Good Friday service at my church was filled with a sanctuary of mourning. We all dressed in black, the cross before us had black fabric draped over the arms, and then two members walked the cross around the congregation as we sat in silence. They lay the cross down on it's back on the stage and each person had a chance to go up, touch it, and pray. I sat there with not much going through my head. I sat there on my knees with my fingertips grazing over the rough wood in the center of this cross overwhelmed with the tears around me, the words being spoken aloud to the the Lord. I closed my eyes and wanted to feel something but I didn't feel anything. Quietly I asked to God, "What do I do?" and immediately I heard within me, "Nothing, look, I've already done it." That was a sense so powerful it brought me to laughter and to tears. It should speak to all of us, I hope. As I strive to prove myself, as I strive to work hard and remain a good and loving person in this world I grow weary. I have grown weary, and God reminds me that I don't need to try so hard all the time. He's already done all the hard work.

That is not to remove all responsibility from myself and from humanity. We do have tremendous responsibility. We are caretakers of this world and of the hearts around us. But above all of that, God is the most. He has done the hardest work of all. Because of that we know that the beauty in this world that we are working towards restoring, God will bring to completion. He shows us that in His resurrection.

I don't know enough about science to prove a God. I don't know enough. But I know what I have felt, and how I believe wholly there is a spiritual realm of this place we live in that captures my heart and wraps me up in a bigness that I can't quite describe. I know that there are mountains, and caves, and colors that come out of this Earth that, to me, show me beauty and show me a God that is creative. I know that I have watched both of my sisters grow children inside of the their own bodies and create a entirely new human! What a world we live in! What a beautiful place this is. How much greater I appreciate it when I know that it gets even better than this.
Easter has never quite meant so much to me as it does this season.
I have endless thoughts on this particular season of life. There's more to come.
Alleluia! Christ is risen! What a happy day. Oh my heart.

Drool. Drool drool drool.

Check out this awesome blog of a family that is living my future.
Well, I know God will do his own thing with my life, but until then this is what I dream of. THIS IS WHAT I DREAM OF!

[EDIT- I got the dang website wrong. Here's the real deal]
happyjanssens.com

Do it. Do it now. Look at it.
Thank you Ryn Many be for passing along inspiring wonderfulness to my heart.

Localism vs. Veganism

Alright folks, I'm ready to do something drastic here. I'm ready to make big changes.
Well... mentally I'm ready. Perhaps not in any other regard yet. Let me 'splain.
This drastic change has to do with food. Read my previous post about my moral dilemma and you'll understand more.
Food is a big deal. It's a big deal to the environment. The question I've been pondering lately is what is the best choice for me to make with my food that does the least impact to the environment, while still supplementing my diet and energy in the way my body needs.
There is, of course, vegan-ism or vegetarianism. I used to think they were a little extreme to go all that way for animal rights, but honestly, I'm feeling it. I see it. And just because the animal is not slaughtered for meat, but is used for it's byproducts, doesn't necessarily mean it's treated any better. So if I would go vegetarian for creation care reasons, then I would really just need to go all the way vegan for my own personal understanding of the way this whole animals business works.
But then what? A vegan diet would consist (for me) of a lot of nuts, and seeds, and beans because I need quite a bit of protein. Of course I'd have my fill of leafy greens and fruits and veggies. I already do, as I love these foods. But how far do those seeds travel to get to me? The almonds were grown in California, and then shipped to Somewhere to be pulverized and made into almond milk and then gets put in containers made in Nebraska (I'm halfway making these places up, I don't know where it all happens but I know it's far away). All of these things have to be shipped DAILY from one place to another in MASS amounts to feed us. Now that's not good for the environment either. Mass slaughterhouses are terrible for the environment and they treat animals horribly. Almond farms come from far, far away and must be shipped and driven, and that's not a very friendly carbon footprint either.
The other option I contemplate is going local. Honestly, that's the top choice in my book. I buy local and I can see the hands of the farmer that butchered the cow I eat and raises the chickens whose eggs I have for breakfast. I can know what he does to them and what he puts in them. I can look into the eyes of the fellow who grew my tomatoes and planted the lettuce for my salad. That seems exactly like how it's supposed to happen. AND that means I wouldn't have to give up meat and cheese and eggs and all those yummy things. But local eating isn't that easy year-round here in the Chicago. Local eating can be done, albeit expensively, in the summer and spring time. After the harvest is over the farmers markets are few and far between, and then what?
I then think of all of the difficulties and lengths I would have to go to for something like that. That would mean no more things that only grow in far away places such as almonds, and bananas, kiwi, pineapple, and a LOT of other things. At least two of those things are a current staple in my diet. I couldn't get fruits in the winter time unless I canned them or froze them.
I'm sure you're all thinking I'm a bit extreme here. I should go local when I can, and then once I can't I've done my duty, right? I just can't see it that way. I want to do all that I can, and I want to start now. I want to choose what is best for myself and for this planet that the Lord has gifted us with.
So what do you think? Vegan or local? I don't care if vegan-ism seems totally outrageous to you. Strictly on an environmental level, what's better?

With my head in the clouds

Looking back into some of my old writings that I wrote in the heat of my nomadic adventures, and in the depths of a very sad season. I wrote, "I am not a planner." Hah. What has happened to me now? I am living the life that I wrote about here which scared me:

My life is not full of sorrows, but the sorrows I do see run very deep within me. Unbearably deep.

How do I justify, or how do I change?

I am not a planner, and part of me does not desire to be a planner. My stories come from going on a whim and rolling with the punches. Stories that can never be had anywhere else. To have looked out the window of many different trains, and slept under the roofs of countless homes. To have an adventure that only comes from sticking my head up in the clouds a little further I have realized that there’s a lot more up in those clouds than what every day practicalities try to let you know. 

Why am I broken? Because I need community? Because I need a back-up plan? Because I need stability? Well, how do I pair those with a wandering soul? How do I make them meet without disastrously colliding? Why must I sacrifice such a deep desire to enjoy my other desires? Is there a way? I need there to be a way.

The way I see it I am enhancing my life. I am enhancing my future. I am bringing enchantment to something I want to write about. I’m living a story. What’s wrong with it? I don’t feel enlightened when I am told what might be best for me. I feel stifled. With any way of life come great sorrows, fears. No one is one hundred percent stable. Something expensive breaks. A job is going south. There’s a fire, or death. Every life. Every journey. In mine, I have chosen to let go of certain things.

I don’t think you understand.

But really,  I want someone to understand.

I feel so deeply. My joys sky rocket beyond most. And my sorrows sink deep into  my soul’s abyss. No wonder I often feel misunderstood. I love my feelings. My deep feelings and my dramatic emotionalism. That’s the way it should be. Feel deeply. Let yourself feel deeply. When I am joyous I am really joyous. But when I am sad no one knows what to do with me. I bathe myself in tears. I understand- it’s overwhelming for someone who cares. I understand- I can be overwhelming. I don’t wish to be overwhelming. But I won’t give up my feelings. There is emotion that comes from beyond myself. Often times I don’t even understand it. Know this. When I am filled with joy and life, nothing is strong enough to penetrate it. It is contagious beyond a mere smile. It makes the sun shine. But I don’t take credit. It’s something outside of myself.

And know this. When I am sad, it is as though the dark ages have fallen on life once again. Tears seem abundant and endless. The rainfall on my heart is vast and covers much ground around me. Sometimes it feels hopeless because of how deeply contagious it is. I don’t wish to burden with my sadness, but there is something outside of me which makes me feel greatly. I could take guilt for imposing on my community in such a way, but I really see it as a great gift. 

I love colors, and deep contrast. Perhaps because they understand me. I mirror them. We get each other. Now, peering out the window of this train and seeing the vastness of the prairies, the silos, and quiet lives, there is one thing that sings to my heart. I see a blanket of snow covering the farms. Sprouting through is a patch of tall, red, vibrant prairie grass. It sings to my soul; the color pushing out of the colorless; the life overcoming the death; the vastness of each, the importance of each, and the beauty of each- next to each other. Beyond what it seems, they are not at odds with each other. They are working together, singing to the dark night of my soul.

I am homeless

Written while I was living out my car two summers ago:

I am homeless. Homelessness in ways seemed so romantic to me. It’s simple and I’m all for simplicity in every way. Homelessness is not simple. Sleeping through the night without waking up is an almost impossible task. Having everything I own in my car, no matter how organized it starts, gets messy, dirty, and actually really gross. Every morning I wake up in a nice pool of sweat after the sun shines on my car for just enough time to create and awesome greenhouse effect. I’m going to start growing plants out of my head soon; I’ve got just the right amount of water coming out of me to keep them hydrated. My bread is smooshed, my butter is melting over everything. It takes twice as long to make breakfast in the morning, and twice as long to find a place to park and sleep for the night. Being sick and homeless is one of the most lonely things I’ve ever gone through. No one to take care of me, and not a comfortable place around to lay my head. My car gets smelly, trash piles up, and I get genuinely tired. I used to run miles and miles after a good night’s rest, and now I can sleep hours and hours after a single mile run. It’s exhausting. It’s not romantic. It’s a bit lonely. Time consuming, yet I seem to have more time than I know what to do with sometimes. A strange paradox. 

However, it makes me take life slow. Important things are different and simple things make me more joyful. I take life slower, one day at a time, and enjoy the time that I do have.  I enjoy the alone time I get twice as much, and I enjoy the friend time that I get three times as much. I supposes there is a good and a bad no matter which way you choose to live life. There are stresses and joys abounding in different ways. 

What way do you choose to live yours?

Plan Plan Plan

My upbringing taught me that I should love what I do. "Do what you love and you'll never have to go to work", my mom always told me.  I think Mark Twain originally said something similar, but my mom is where I learned it from. So I did.
I didn't go to college, I went to Scotland. I didn't stay put and get grounded, I traveled. I didn't get a career and start saving up for this and that, I hopped around from bakery to coffee shop to grocery store and loved every one of them.
Suddenly, though, I have found myself in an entirely new way of thinking. It's a little scary. I never knew this side of me was so strong. In my travels I am laid back, go-with-the-flow. I don't worry until I have to cross the bridge of worry (and yes, I have, many a time. Big and boldly, with a lot of tears). Now I am almost turning Type A. *Gasp!*. Okay, I don't think I'll actually EVER be Type A even if I wanted to, but the path I am currently down closely hugs that Type A side.
Plan plan plan. What will I do today? At this time I'll go running for this long, after that I will do pilates for ten minutes, then I will eat this for lunch, and do that, and by this time I should get ready for work. Then I will have thirty minutes left until I must leave for work. I leave for work always a half hour early even though it only takes me about 12 minutes to get there, but I've got to make sure I'm ready for traffic or what not, right?
I found a bit of a freedom in planning things once I settled into moving to Wheaton. It made me feel put together and prepared. I liked it. But something happens when I start to like something... I obsess.  Not exactly obsess, but I put a LOT of my energy into that thing. All or nothing: this describes me. So freedom is, in fact, a very fine line for me.
After I caught myself trying to look up what I will be doing a year from now and start planning ahead for that thing right now, I took a deep breath, shut my computer, and put myself to bed. I know some people do plan ahead for a year or even five years from now. That's great. Some people can do that. Generally those some people are people who already have a bit more of a normal life path they are on. I do not. This summer where will I be? I don't know. Plan plan plan!
STOP.
Stop stop stop. Actually, I am driving myself crazy in the head. Where once I found a fullness in my life of laying back and trusting that God will work and protect, I have replaced with a self-propelled extreme "what-if" state of mind.
The trouble comes not when I have to find my way back to that Sarah who is laid back and takes on life. I know her, I can be her again pretty easily. The trouble comes when I find I must balance the two extreme sides of myself into something healthy.
Today I woke up and immediately started setting appointments, and planning on going to the gym, and then coming back to work on some stuff at a coffee shop, and the list goes on. I was starting to make breakfast and I wasn't even hungry yet! That's where I draw the line. That's where my mental state has finally manifested itself into the physical. I'm supposed to eat breakfast when I wake up so I should do it now? No. I stopped myself, put the yogurt back in the fridge, and sat down to drink coffee and write. I will wait to do what I'm supposed to do until it feels right. I will wait to eat until I am hungry. I will wait on the Lord until he directs me.
Resting in the balance is tough.

I wish I had more to write about then all of this self reflective stuff.
As is life in my twenties, right?

Also, it's snowing.