We Don't Serve Cake Here

I am currently in the middle of a big pitty party for one, and there is no cake, no ice cream.

This sucks.

My thinking is that writing my thoughts down might make me realize just how Sarah-centered I am being and possibly add the benefit of shaking me out of it.

I wish that I had someone who would pour their wisdom and love into me. My whole life, it seems, I've wanted a mentor. I have known incredible women, to be sure, but I've never had a mentor. And God knows that all of those incredible relationships have not been enough for me, because I want more.

(This writing thing is working, by the way.)

Which is somewhat absurd, because I have often received encouragement at the most unexpected times. But not so absurd, because the problem isn't that I feel unloved. It's that I want someone to help me wade through what it means to be female, passionate, loving, servant-hearted. I want someone to show me how to love my kids. I want someone to show me how to more easily spot needs and then meet them.

I love life. I feel passionate about living, and I take it seriously.

It gets me in trouble sometimes because I get upset about things someone else might not deem as important. It gets me in trouble, because right now, I want someone to help me learn what it means to live well, and it seems I can't have that at the moment. And that kills me because I feel like I could be doing so much better if someone would help me decide whether to turn left or right once in awhile.