Speak Up for Those Who Cannot Speak for Themselves

Look what I bought!
Not this beautiful lady. The shirt, silly.

From this beautiful lady, who is selling the shirts to raise money for two adoptions.

I am in love with the heart that wants to adopt.

Maybe because I am passionate about adoption. I don't remember when that started, but I do remember thinking that I didn't really know anyone else who wanted to adopt, even if they were physically able to have children. But a BIG truth in life is, "you are never alone," and soon I started learning about people around me who wanted the same thing I did: to see the parentless children, the children who had been abandoned, the children who might otherwise be just a number loved. Loved deeply, immeasurably, and without conditions.

There are an estimated 147 million orphans in this world. Every one of those children has a name and a history. Every one of those children is beautiful, a unique creation. Every one of those children has a heart that can be broken or restored and filled up to the top.

Lovelyn (isn't that such a great name?!) has such a beautiful heart, and I am so excited about her story. So I bought a shirt. A $25 Alternative Apparel shirt to subtract two from that 147 million.

You can, too.

Trying to Fit the Ocean in a Cup

I've been a bit of a mess lately.
Maybe a big mess.
I've tried analyzing myself top to bottom, inside and out, to fix the problem.
I haven't withdrawn from my normal engagements, maybe I've added more. But nearly every time I've left wondering, "did I give the wrong impression? did they know that I really love them? that I love to spend time with them and hear their stories?"
Because my spirit's just been...damp. (When I talk like that, keep in mind that I'm a yoga-practicing semi-hippie who believes in God and Jesus.)

Joy, one of the best things this life has to offer, has been missing in my life.

But I've been singing this song as well as I know how, and I'm getting some of it back:

Savior, please take my hand
I work so hard, I live so fast
This life begins, and then it ends
And I do the best that I can, but I don't know how long I'll last

I try to be so tough
But I'm just not strong enough
I can't do this alone, God I need You to hold on to me
I try to be good enough
But I'm nothing without Your love
Savior, please keep saving me

Savior, please help me stand
I fall so hard, I fade so fast
Will You begin right where I end
And be the God of all I am because You're all I have

Hallelujah
Everything You are to me
Is everything I'll ever need
And I am learning to believe
That I don't have to prove a thing
'Cause You're the one who's saving me

-by Josh Wilson, from the album Trying to Fit the Ocean in a Cup

A Peachy Life

There is a part of me that wants everyone to be happy, never disappointed, and always pleased (with me). I don't really like this part of me.

Lately, the people-pleaser aspect of myself has inched toward the surface again. And it's resulted in a stressed, irritable, and anxious girl.

I am a teacher. My husband is a pastor, and my father is a pastor, so in addition to my own church, I have relationships with people through some of their social and professional networks. I have a lot of family members, I am involved in youth group, and I have some friends. So I know a lot of people. Do you know the chances of one of those people being displeased with me at any given time? I think it's 100%.

Now, no one needs me to point out to them that I am not Jesus, so of course there are going to be times when I should be apologizing for something I have royally messed up. But sometimes- a lot of times- I know it is best for me to just be. To make the best decision I know how to in a given situation and then just keep on living. No one is better off if I am Basket Case Sarah, worried that at any moment that someone might be offended. No one is better off if I am making them happy all the time. First of all, it's silly to think that I am that powerful. And second of all, I "know" by now that keeping someone happy does not equal love.

Still, somehow, I have let this people-pleasing part consume too much of me. I'm ok with having a little of that aspect in me; it makes me a peace maker. But too much? Not good. Not healthy.
No one benefits.

I want a life that is like a juicy summer peach. But the way I've been thinking lately and feeling lately sucks the joy and the beauty and good stuff out of the life.

And that's no way to live.

My mom and I whipped up a really yummy dish last night.
(Saying "whipped" in relation to food always makes me think of mashed potatoes. We didn't make mashed potatoes.)
A lot of fresh, healthy food. Food reminiscent of a spa.
Sometimes I think it would be fun to be a spa chef. Sometimes I think I'd like to be a group fitness instructor. My favorite show is Bones. I'm not very observant, but I am intrigued by all things gross (like organs, blood, and bones), and sometimes I think it would nice to have a job like that.

I don't know.
I don't want to teach English for the rest of my life. It's fine, but it's not entirely who I am.
At 18, I chose teaching because it would allow me to be positively involved in the lives of teenagers without getting paid to counsel them. I hated the idea of being paid to help people work through their problems when it seemed to me that most "counselors" worth talking to didn't charge. They were friends, mentors, family members.

I wanted to be mentor.
I liked English. I was naturally good at it, due mostly to the fact that I spent so much of my childhood squished into my bed and book-traveling to other worlds. My high school English teacher was fantastic and loved her students well. Teaching English surely was the way to go if I wanted to effect teenagers positively.

So, I went to college where I didn't really fit in with the English teacher crowd, because I didn't like most of what is considered to be classic English literature. (I'm still not a big fan of Shakespeare, by the way.) I learned to appreciate poetry, I wrote a lot of papers, and I came out with a degree in Secondary English Education.

Today, I am a teacher. Mission accomplished, right?

You know, the truth is, I can pick any of the above jobs, and the outcome will be similar (although sometimes I still think it would be so much fun to be a chef in a spa or a place like Ten Thousand Villages). I will like it, I will enjoy getting to know more people and building into their lives. But I just don't know that I'm going to be completely satisfied with a job.

Because when I get down to what I really want, outside of anyone else's expectations, or the expectations I imagine are on me, I want the same thing I've wanted since I was 16 years old.
I want to be a youth pastor's wife, and I want to be a mom.

Today, I am a youth pastor's wife. I didn't go to a Bible college in search of a husband, and I actually fell in love with Tim before he chose to be a youth pastor. But I have what I want. Kids to love and mentor and sometimes...mother.

Huh.

Shhhh....

I like to have a little time to think.
Peace and quite. Time spent away from the computer, away from tv, away from noise.
Lately, I'm not sure where that went. You know, my quiet.

I found myself feeling uncomfortable without something going on. I was looking for radio shows (that usually talk about nothing I care about) while driving to work, turning on re-runs to listen to while I did dishes and made the bed, reading blog after blog and after blog...(which is a difficult habit to cap because I love to read about what other people have to say!

So last night, I drove to my yoga class in silence (ok, I might have spoken out loud once or twice). I drove home in silence. This morning, I drove to work without turning on the radio or listening to one of Regina Spektor's bizarre and charming songs.

And it felt really, really good. A little uncomfortable at first, like riding a bike when you haven't for years or singing out loud when everything else around you is quiet. But soon it felt natural. Just to sit and let my thoughts wander like they do.

A few words (or several) on food

I decided not to go vegetarian.
Although I did do some research prior to my experiment, I know I did not do enough.

When I go to the doctor, I try to remember to tell whoever may be taking my blood pressure that day that the reading will be low. I get that from my dad.
I have never given blood. I've tried, but even after doing light exercise to raise my too-low-to-give-blood blood pressure, my iron reading was too low. I get that from my mom.

So in the event that I need to have blood work done, my energy is generally wiped from my body. I come this close to passing out every time, and I usually just want to sit still and close my eyes until the uncomfortable feeling passes.

That is how I felt after two weeks of meatless meals.
So back to plain old moderate eating.

I have experimented with different ways of eating, just because I am curious, I like to try new things and I am fascinated with food and nutrition. But I always come back to regular, healthy, no-diet, nothing-restricted eating. Or I try to. Because as I get older, the big piece of cake with extra icing still pleases my taste buds just as much, but it leaves me with a sugar crash and feeling terrible. So I compromise. Because life is too short, beautiful, and fun to waste time saying, "no, no, no," or to spend feeling too horrible to enjoy it.