No Praying Here

They must have thought I was a lunatic.

I had, in no uncertain terms, told them that we would not be praying for Aunt Tily's broken hip on Thursday nights.

We ended our first study together and I laid in bed mulling over all the reasons they had for never coming back to this life group. "This wasn't going to work, this community was too complicated to make a group like this work. They live together, work together, eat together, their children go to school together, they go to church together. That women's husband is that girl's boss, and that girl is the boss of that girl's husband....HOLY COW I've made a wrong turn!" :)

Life Group, that in and of itself sometimes puzzles people. Life Group instead of Bible Study? What's the difference?

The difference is we don't pray for Aunt Tily's broken hip.

For as long as I can remember, the Lord has sweetly placed opportunities in my life for me be to apart of a safe group of women to journey with. Since Mark and I married, we have been apart of seven different communities in 12 years. On average, that's a new community every 18 months. It really didn't look like that for us, some communities we were apart of for as long as four years. WHEW! An eternity for us! And some we were apart of for as little as 3 months. Regardless, it was a lot of communities. Consequently, for survival purposes, we developed some of the sweetest communion we have ever had with body of Christ. And we tasted it. We tasted the authenticity and rawness of carrying each other's burdens and brokenness.  And not only did we taste it, we swam in it, we stood under water falls of life giving relationships that mattered. We were free to be ourselves, to be known, REALLY known, and we were given the gift of knowing others. I have said it before, and I will say it again, once you taste it you can never go back.

After walking through the intensity of yet another community change, putting all of our girls in brick and mortar school, and encountering the one year anniversary of my mom's death; my husband in his most gentle and intuitive way said in late December, "maybe it's time to start another women's life group". The man has stood by my side and knows the sacrifice and work that is involved in starting a group like this. It means providing a clean-ish home every Thursday night, overseeing the activity of all four of the kids during the most insane time frame of the day, and most difficult and important; debriefing with me and encouraging me every single step of the way. He astounds me.

And so, in late January, I threw out my fleece, bowed my head before the throne, and said, "have your way with us!"

If you know me even a little bit, you know that I am passionate about prayer. You know that I believe ALL requests should be made known, even when our lips cannot compose the words. I know that our God hears, and sees, and is in our midst. I also have walked in Christian circles my entire life and I know that prayer requests for other people are often used as a means to deflect deeper requests and needs for our OWN hearts and lives. We used to spend hours, thinking we were fooling our bible teacher, making up prayer requests to add to the chalk board as a means of avoiding lecture. She was WAY smarter than that, but indulged our made up prayer requests. Everyone has someone else they can request prayer for. We all do it, we sit in bible studies/churches/prayer meetings, and think about who we are going to mention when it is time for prayer requests to be taken. And there is NOTHING wrong with that. But very few of us are vulnerable enough to ask for prayer for ourselves. Our broken lives, our broken places, our wounded spots. Please do not hear what I am not saying, all prayer is valid. But in a way, when we spend our time requesting prayer for others, we do not let each other in; into the private corridors of our hearts. So I told them, "in order to provide an intentional atmosphere where time is of the utmost importance, we will not be taking prayer requests on the account of others, but only requests that start with 'I need you to pray for ME in this way' "

Lunatic :)

I try to be a very intentional person, especially when it involves the time and lives of other people. And this was the most intentional and raw I could get in meeting numero uno without being voted off the island.

In their braveness (or craziness ;) they returned to the home of the lunatic.

I am so overcome with emotion when I stand back and see what the Lord, in His goodness, is doing on Thursday nights. Every single one of these courageous women are laying down their weapons, their protective armor, and are entering into the water fall of organic sisterhood. (How 1970's, granola-esk, Jesus freak, does that sound? Val would be proud :) Being with them, listening to their stories, watching them laugh, crying with them, and seeing their hearts lived out is the most church-like thing I have done since setting my feet down in French Camp.

My prayer and my desire for this group has been blown out of the water! You cannot fast forward intimacy or community, but you can provide a pathway of intentional bonding. How very much like my God to take my doubts and insecurities and drown them in life giving moments.

Run, do not walk, to find a place in your own neck of the woods to taste the power and deliciousness of loving one another as Christ so gently loves us; even if it means meeting a lunatic :)!

To Thursday Nights Around The Globe!
~Sara

Diaries Of The Depressed

I was so angry.
It wasn't one specific person who upset me, it was everyone.
It wasn't one specific incidence, it was every incident.
It wasn't a conversation that made me mad, it was every conversation that made me mad.

I was in bad place. All over the map emotionally, as we say around here. I couldn't resolve inside the chambers of my heart where the down spiral had come from, it just quickly engulfed me and held me under. My go to pick-me-ups had zero affect in helping me over the hump, and the bed was the only safe place I could go where I wasn't hurting someone in my family with my words, my glares, my criticism, my very presence.

Easter. Fail.

I mean, for goodness sake, it was Good Friday.. I was to be more pious, more aware, and more broken over my sin that put the Son of God on the cross. Instead, I was acting out like a toddler; embracing my flesh and selfishness and beginning to hammer down my tent stakes. I was going to camp here. I was justified in camping here. I was tired, weary, worn, hurting, and angry. A recipe for entitlement and camping in the valley of the self absorbed.

By Sunday morning, the anger began to show itself in the way of endless tears. Everything made me cry. I cried because I did not buy a single shred of new Easter clothing for the kids. I cried because I was tired of dressing up for people under the banner of 'dressing up for Jesus'. I didn't spend a penny on a single Easter treat because I was tired of every single holiday being twisted into an extraordinary moment where I had to attempt to out-do other moms, and pour excess all over my children in the name of an ugly, giant, bunny rabbit. I cried because of mom-guilt, mom-anxiety, mom-comparison.

I cried because I missed Kansas, I missed Virginia, I missed the Oasis, I missed GPC, I missed Chipotle, I missed Target,  I missed my family, I missed my friends, and as the layers of anger were peeled back, underneath all the tent staking was this familiar pang; I missed my mom. Desperately.

Ugh, it had happened again. I had been taken a fool by the masquerading of grief, disguised so often in restless, pointless, anger.

Why had I been so surprised? Why was I once again found unprepared and lacking so desperately in the self awareness department? I thought I knew myself.

Grief.

This is grief my friends. The ebb and flow of the most unpredictable monster I've ever encountered.

Grief.

As "Up From The Grave" was being sung as a victory tune my heart began to flounder like a funeral dirge. Words like grave, tomb, death, each echoed more loudly than the other in the hallways of my mind.

DEATH
TRAMPLED
CRUSHED
DEATH
GRIEF

Then comes, "O death, where is your sting?

Truth?

I can tell you where the sting is! It's been taking up residence in my heart for the passed 17 months and it is alive and well and potent.

Grief.

Death does sting. It stings badly. It hurts.

"Because He Lives" oh please Lord, make it stop... I don't want to face tomorrow. I don't want to live. I want to lay in my bed and cry.

Grief.

It was merely passing through this weekend. It didn't stay, I didn't camp for long, the tears purged the anger and we regrouped to tackle Monday.

Monday, this sweetest freedom and life awaited me, and it came in the form of GRACE.

"When we have said all we can of the abounding of sin in us- grace still more abounds in Jesus.  We cannot be so evil as he is good.  His power is a good match for our weakness. His riches are a good match for our poverty.  His mercy is a good match for our misery. We are vile in ourselves- but we are complete in him.  In ourselves we have cause to be abased- but in him we may rejoice. Blessed be God for Jesus Christ!"
~John Newton

Grace.

Let those words wash over you. Read them over and over again. They are sweet, they are transforming.

Grace.

Grief's kryptonite is grace.

The permission to feel, to explore, to momentarily camp, to ignore, to pass, to hibernate, to cocoon, to be weak, to be ordinary, to lose, to be a no one, and to fail.

GRACE!

Amazing grace.
Extraordinary grace.

Grief's death grip is lost on me by saturating myself in Someone else's clothing of grace.
Oh, what I owe Him.
Oh, what I can never repay.

"Oh, to see my name, written in His wounds for through His suffering I AM FREE!"

GRACE!
~Sara

Love Shows Up

The scene was wretched. To come upon something so grotesque and appalling was almost more than they could handle physically and emotionally. They were offended at the sight. Annoyed, simply because they had to face this entire ordeal at all. Oh, if only they could have avoided it to begin with. If their path would have only taken them on a different road. They would have been happy to go an extra mile or even ten, if it would have spared them this rather uncomfortable moment.

He just laid there. Naked. No movement, no words, no groaning. Different parts of the layers of skin were exposed, and blood and pus poured forth everywhere. Surely, he was dead. If they had known him, if they been audacious enough to stoop to this man's social network and put a name to his face; they would now not recognize him because of the beatings. He was unrecognizable.

And so, because it was messy, complicated, gross, uncomfortable, and had a hint of scandal; the Priest and the Levite crossed on the other side of the road.
------------

He just needed to get to Jericho. He wasn't expecting to encounter drama along his path today. He too came upon the rather startling scene.  He had always heard it said that no one could prepare you for seeing a dead body. What welled up in him as his eyes beheld this broken, torn apart man, overcame him, and he jumped down from his animal. There was an urgency to resuscitate this man to life. As he got closer, the blood began to be absorbed by his rope sandals, the depth and number of the wounds became clearer, and he knew in his core, scandal was written all over this situation. Yet, there was an urgency to bind this man's wounds, to pour oil and wine into the bleeding, pus filled places and clean them out with his very hands. It was messy, complicated, gross, and uncomfortable. But what this man from Samaria felt was compassion. And compassion cannot help but move you to enter into someone's pain and junk. Compassion keeps you there despite your own agenda, fear, status symbol, position, opinion, politically leaning, vocation, location, and tolerance.

Love.shows.up.

When I think back over the last few years in my life, this is the theme that stands out in the dark of night; LOVE SHOWS UP!

When hospice calls and tells you "it's time"......

Love shows up, takes your children for days, cleans your house, buys you groceries, visits you while you hold vigil around your mother's bed, makes you meals, (ENDLESS meals) and often says nothing.

Love flies in from all over the world, drives in from all over the world, texts you at all hours of the night just to say, "you aren't alone". Love calls and weeps on your voicemail, helps you pick out a dress to wear to bury your mother in, orders boxes of wine for you and sends them from Seattle, sends flowers, sends cards, and brings more ham than one can imagine. Love does the hard, uncomfortable, and vulnerable thing. Love stands in a line for hours just to hug your neck. Love comes and whispers in your mom's ear on her death bed, "goodbye, I hope you have wonderful neighbors that meet you there!" Love sacrifices and holds your kids during your mother's memorial service; lets them cry and wipes their tears. Love lets you practice her eulogy over and over again, while you choke on your tears and start over.

Even when the service ends, love has no time frame.

Love has no rules, no conditions, no ultimatums, no formulas, no reservations, and no guilt. Love at its very finest is messy, gross, complicated, and scandalous.

So very, very scandalous.
------------

He who knew no sin became sin..

On a cross, on our behalf; He became an adulterer, a murderer, a rapist, a pedophile, a drunk, a liar, a cheater, a druggy, a prostitute, a thief, a worrier, an addict, an abuser, and a dictator. He became cruelty, hatred, disobedience, impurity, law breaker, truth stealer, joy crusher, and life killer.

SCANDALOUS, at its finest.

For the first time in their relationship, He was offended at the sight of His Son. Broken and torn that they had to face this entire ordeal separated. Without a doubt they could avoid it. He could release legion upon legion of angels to intervene, but He felt compassion, and compassion moved Him to enter into our pain and junk. Compassion kept Him from pulling His Son off that cross and back into the throne room.

The scene was wretched. To watch His only Son on that cross was so grotesque and so appalling it was almost more than eternity could bare. Blood and pus poured forth every where, it was messy, complicated, and gross, but the High Priest did not walk around us on the other side of the road.

At just the right moment in history, and in a way the world had never seen....

LOVE SHOWED UP!!

Go and do likewise!

HAPPY EASTER, my precious friends!!

~Sara

I Love The Common Core Curriculum

Sometimes I am exhausted by the fighting.

Sometimes I am embarrassed by the fighting.

Sometimes I get overwhelmed by the ignorance, pride, and anger people have spewed all over one another in the name of  "doing what's best for the children and their education".

After attending a christian school for 13 years, homeschooling my own children for 5 years, and now wrapping up our second year in public school; may I be so bold to tell you where I think you should send your child to be educated? To the YOU School! The YOU Academy! The YOU P.S. 529! The YOU Christian School! The YOU homeschool. The YOU Brick and Mortar School. The Y.O.U. (get off your buns and don't be a lazy parent) School.   

Whether or not you have chosen the christian school institution, a homeschooling institution, or a public school institution, YOU are the common denominator (high five for the correct usage of a mathie term). And when you are intentional (there's that word again) about becoming the Common in the Common Core, the war over institutional education is over.

Are there questionable and frustrating things in the common core curriculum? Yes there are, I've read them and helped my children learn them.

Are there questionable and frustrating things in the Abeka curriculum, the Sonlight Curriculum, the Horizon curriculum, and other homeschool curriculums?  Yes there are, I learned under them and taught them.

Are there morally bankrupt things happening in public schools? Yes there are, I've seen them and now I fight along side my children to give them the tools to navigate the waters.

Are there morally bankrupt things happening in christian schools? Yes there are, I've seen them and participated in them first hand.

Are there morally bankrupt things happening in homeschools? Yes there are, I've seen them and witnessed first hand the consequences.

No one is exempt. No one institution has it all together. That is why it is imperative for YOU be the common CORE in your child's life and your child's education. If you have predetermined that your formula for education will produce unscathed, unwounded, perfectly protected and victorious soldiers, you are living a lie. Until we rise up and take a hold of our never ending influence in our children's lives, we will continue to dump the responsibility on the type of educational institution we have selected, and wash our hands clean like Pontius Pilot.

Some public, private, and christian school curriculums want to teach my children concepts and ideas that are contrary to our spiritual convictions and understandings. I am not intimated, fearful, or anxious at all because by the grace of God, we have established a safe place for our kids to come and ask those questions. Our dinner table conversation, more often than not, is addressing real life issues that our kids are facing everyday like; sexing (the act of sex), divorce, evolution, homosexuality, legalism, stealing, cheating, racism, slavery, dating, adultery, teen pregnancy, and whole hell of a lot of other things. We are bound and determined to be the COMMON in the common core of our children's lives. Do not mess with this Mama Bear or Papa Bear, when it comes to our cubs, we will take you down Charlie Brown. 

But oh my goodness, the sweetness, the honesty, the ownership, the purpose, the validity, the JOY we find in our children, and being their common core is something that no educational system can steal from us.

You want your child to be the recipient of top notch education? Stop complaining about the tuition you pay for christian/private school, stop complaining about the woes of common core, and stop complaining about your long days as a victim to the homeschooling schedule, and man up. YOU SIGNED UP FOR THIS!

You know how in a marriage you are the only one that can complain about your mother and when your spouse does it, it's offensive. Of course, it is the same way about the educational choices we make on behalf of our children. I thank the Lord that He has allowed us to taste each type of educational system in an up close and personal way, because the above paragraph comes from a place of experience.  My (Sara's) parents almost went broke sending us to a christian school.  Mark and I have sobbed our eyes out and thrown books across the table because we were so frustrated with common core curriculum, and I (Sara) have almost jumped off of a building after spending days and weeks of uninterrupted time with my wee piglets.

We have been there.

We have actually walked those roads.

But I am tired of the divisive and painful way people have sworn allegiance to a concrete way of educating their children, instead of swearing allegiance to being their child's common core, their common denominator, and their one true north. 

Imagine a world where people laid down their weapons about the type of education our children received, and everyone fought for the type of CHILDREN we were raising, influencing, loving, and growing. Fear, anger, pride, arrogance, and worthless spewing are removed when we all start fighting for the actual hearts and minds of our children, not just in the public square, but in the private spaces of our homes and our lives.

My children, their hearts, their minds, their experiences fall under the "totally passionate about" category in my life. Can you tell? :) And the longer I love them the more passionate I become about spreading the good news that children are worth the battle. Their hearts, their minds, their experiences should be enough of a common ground for all parents (even those with different institutional leanings) to stand upon, and together we should fight against all the pain that will inevitably plague our children regardless of the banner under which they get an education.

Three cheers to the common core curriculum!!

~Sara

A Tale of Two Sisters

I had to revert to my Lamaze breathing when I walked into her room. The day before, we had cleaned her room, and now this; a room worked over with giblets of craft projects, glue stuck in the carpet, dresser drawers wide open, multiple water glasses on her night stand even though only one night had passed, her entire stuffed animal collection taking up residence in her unmade bed, dirty clothes stuffed under her bed and the teeny tiniest objects known to man (i.e seashells, Barbie dolls shoes, sticks collected as Fairy wands, tissue paper shreds used as Fairy's blanket in her card board house displayed with on the book shelf) EVERY.WHERE the eye could behold.

" JU-LI-AAAAAA!!!!!"

Her adorably sweet face, with her adorably sweet new hair do, peered around the bedroom door and smiled at me as I was about to launch into one of my perfected, "we cannot live like this!!!" speeches, when a lump formed in my throat as my mind flashed back to a year ago. This time last year, Julia's face was often filled with sadness, confusion, stubbornness, and a pain she would not let me enter in to. But as she stood there with this rascally-naughty, smile on her face, I knew that her sadness and confusion had been replaced with this calm, steady, glow. 

I get completely overwhelmed when I think about how our Julia has grown in this last year. I almost cannot compose these words because the tears pour so quickly. More so than ever, I am learning that we are not the sum total of our decisions and experiences, but we are all a story in the making. My Julia is not just a messy dresser, but she is this incredibly creative and thoughtful heart that is exploring a great big world, swimming in new ideas, and expressing her thoughts and feelings by using her craft.. She is using her scissors to cut away fear and insecurity in her life. Glue, to hold the pieces together that don't always fit just right. Fairy dust, to wipe away painful memories that sometimes haunt her. Markers, to light up sometimes a very dark world. Hole punches, to be precise about her work. And paper, well it's her stage. I am the least "crafty" person you know, but the more I am allowed to peer into my precious daughter's world, the more I am learning to let her heart fly in that completely "perfect" room of hers and not waste my encounters with her on meaningless speeches. 

*A big shout out to the two people in my life who tend to be more "messy dresser" type people, who talked me off the ledge and assured me Julia would be a high functioning adult someday. They even volunteered to raise her for me! :) *

I had to revert to my Lamaze breathing, she had asked me the same five questions in five different ways in under five minutes, and by the end of the conversation we were both crying. All I have had to say to people regarding Katie this year is, "She is in the fifth grade!" I get sympathetic nods from people, pats on the back, hugs, and "hang in theres" from complete strangers. Every girl who has been through the fifth grade, and every set of parents who has seen a girl through the fifth grade, knows the purgatory we are in. The one and only time I told my mother I hated her was when I was in the fifth grade. She immediately broke down and started crying, and for the first time I saw my mom as a human being. 

If I could wrap Katie in bubble wrap for the next 3 years and just hold her in my lap, I would. Katie and I are so similar that we often clash-boom-bang. I am harder on Katie than I am on the other kids. I know that about myself and I am striving to make changes in that area.

Katie's perfect bedroom and perfect dresser are her craft...She is trying to wade her way through these intense emotions and hormones, and having a place for everything settles her nerves. Having a plan for everything, with back up plans that have back up plans, keep her grounded and calm. She has lists, and journals, and more lists, and diaries, and books, and notebooks, and planners, and more lists. And all those things are clues into her precious soul. Her organized piles and her bed made with precision, allows the world to make more sense in her head.  But Katie is not the sum total of her tidy dresser, she is this incredibly stunning story that is being written chapter by chapter. The more I am allowed to peer into my precious daughter's world, the more I am learning to let her heart fly in that completely perfect room of hers and not waste my encounters with her on critiques. 

*A big shout out to the many people in my life who tend to be "tidy dresser" people that have talked me off the ledge and assured me I will survive her lists!* 

I know that without a doubt, while God stood in the baby manufacturing plant, He giggled when He assigned me these two polar opposite sisters. Oh ya'll! I could just buckle at the knees when I think about the way I feel about these girls. They are my deepest pride and most abundant source of joy. When people tell you that kids are the ones that actually raise their parents, nothing could be more spot on.

So here is to all the different types of dresser people in this world! 

You are not the sum total of your dresser presentation, you are a story in the making. 

LIVE ON!

~Sara

Business On Great Waters

For me, I embed truth further into my heart by writing about it or sitting down and sharing it with someone. Last night, Mark was beating baseball gloves with a sledge hammer, while I sat on a dirty, concrete block; sporting my yoga pants, CRS sweat shirts, and these days--my ever present glasses.

*Clunk*
Sledge hammer hits baseball glove

"You have to listen to this! This--this is rocking my world!"
*Clunk*

I began to read the passage, and then I began to walk Mark through my thoughts.
*Clunk*

"Isn't that amazing? Do you see it?"
*Clunk*

The further along I went my voice got louder, more passionate, more decisive.. (imagine that, me passionate?!)
*Clunk*

Sitting became standing, standing became pacing. Talking became speaking, and speaking became preaching. (imagine that, me preaching/!)
*Clunk*

Mark, thoughtfully listening and taking in all the fireworks displayed in front of him in the form of his wife, finally says, "And, and... tomorrow when you share this on your blog you can add this part. 'As we search for the missing plane, we know less about the square footage we are covering in the Indian Ocean, than we do about the surface of the moon!' "

*Silence*

Me, looking a bit confused.

Mark, "the ocean is HUGE!"

----------------------------------------------------

Psalm 107: 23a
Those who go down to the sea in ships, who do business on great waters;

Many years ago, I entitled the series about my sweet Mama's battle with Alzheimer's, "Living In The Storm". I had no idea at the time how profound and beautifully articulate that title was, for what was headed our way. It was a storm with gigantic magnitude and eternal implications.  A storm that had the potential to wreck havoc in so many different ways and in so many different lives. A storm that threatened to overcome us with some of the waves we swore we were going to drown in.

There are moments, in the privacy of my heart, when I replay the movie of that storm, I shake my head and say, "how did we survive?" And while I am happy to give you a pre-packaged Sunday School answer, you should know by now that is not how I roll.

Often times, a lot of times, the majority of the time... in the this precious journey we call Christianity, we are called to take the ships of our lives and do business on great waters. I have yet to meet a person whose name has been left off the roster of 'Life's Storms'.

Some of you are convinced that you keep getting re-enrolled in this course because you have not mastered the criteria for passing out of the storm and into calm waters. Can I just plead with you to protect yourself from that lie Satan is spewing all over you?! God does not throw his beloved children into the middle of the raging sea to document whether or not our PFDs (personal flotation device) will withstand the storm.

All through out the book of Psalm, we are told time and time again why we are asked to enter into the raging seas of this life. And the answer is so simple, but so extraordinary, I just weep when I think about it.

Psalm 107:23b
They have seen the works of the Lord; and His wonders in the deep.

Did you catch that? The people who are being tossed and turned, beat up and beat down, bleeding out and vomiting because of the torture of the sea..... THESE PEOPLE SEE THE WORKS OF THE LORD!!!

They find Him. The God of the universe reveals Himself in this awe inspiring way in the depths of the sea. In the middle of DEEP darkness, pain, uncertainty, calamity, depression, strife, injustice, suffering, brokenness, sleeplessness, hopelessness, fear, and death, God shows UP!!

For those of us, who are doing business on the great waters; God, specifically, intentionally, and dramatically opens the eyes of our hearts to see His WONDER.

If you flip back to Psalm 77:19 it reads this;
" Your way is in the sea, and your paths in the mighty waters."

Do you want to know why God is calling us into the great waters of the sea?
Because that is where HE IS DOING HIS BUSINESS!
BOOM!
His way is in the sea.
BOOM!
The paths He has laid for us are found in the mighty waters.
BOOM!

Our God is so in love with us, so motivated to action by us, so moved to enter into our junk, and so crazy about His beloved children, that He cannot help but want to be close to us, and reveal to us on the most intimate level who He is. No book, no Sunday school lesson, no sermon, no seminary, no amount of theology and no length of church attendance, can substitute the encounter our Abba Father has with us when He meets us in the sea of this life, full of disaster, and draws us onto Himself. He shows us His glory, and all that is left on our putrid lips to say is, "Savior! Savior! Savior!"

You want to know how we survived the storm of Alzheimer's..... Because He met us there, He sustained us there, He upheld us with His mighty hand as the waves crashed about us, He and He alone was our refuge. And in a way I could never describe to you with words, He showed Himself to us.

'We would have despaired unless we would have believed that we would see the goodness of the Lord'
Psalm 27:13

Dear friends, do not fight against the raging seas of this life, for in them you will find your God, and a blessing with gigantic magnitude and eternal implications. And just like Psalm 107:29 says, "He caused the storm to be still!" And so He will in your life!

'As we search for the missing plane, we know less about the square footage we are covering in the Indian Ocean, than we do about the surface of the moon!.......The ocean is HUGE!"

Here's to the business HE is doing on great waters!
~Sara

Intentionally Intentional

I love intentional people. People who are not an unresponsive victim of their circumstances, but rather are deliberately responding to the heat and rain of their lives and the lives of others. I love me some Dr. Gary Chapman, but I think there are actually 6 love languages. The sixth one being intentionality. I guess it could be a sub category of quality time, but I think it's WAY meatier, because intentionality doesn't necessarily require an abundance of time. Someone just sent me a text this morning that didn't take me longer than 30 seconds to read, but the message was so intentional that I was BEYOND blessed by her words and encouragement.

Intentionality.

In my old age of 32, mother of four children, and lover to my best friend; I find myself redefining what is important, redefining where I spend my energy and efforts, redefining what is worthy of my investment in a Pinterest obsessed world, screaming at me to invest in everything extraordinary. Grief has this beautifully strange way of limiting your output ability. Grief requires some hibernation of the heart and mind.  I'm not going to lie, some of the most freeing, life-giving moments of my life have taken place in the passed sixteen months under the umbrella of being completely spent emotionally, mentally, and physically. I have had to say 'no' to so much because there was simply no energy for 'yes'. I had to cocoon for myself a safe place to process and walk through (instead of around) my grief. Because of deep grief, I feel confident that I know myself, my heart, my emotions, my limitations, and have a clearer understanding of exactly why I am who I am, and why I am doing what I am doing. I stand in awe that God so meticulously used a dark and heavy time in my life to shed light on the inner-most parts of my soul. Only a great and intentional God could do such a sweet and perfect work.

Each of us has a different set of white noise pining for our attention and energy. The white noise around me has to be intentionally put to death day by day, because so much of it does not deserve my attention or my energy. I have given myself a permission slip in so many categories in my life, and it feels so AMAZING!

Recently, through teary eyes, I asked a group of safe people to offer me a permission slip to not be in love with every aspect of my life right now, they graciously and abundantly extended me a permission slip, and helped me take down the 'For Sale' sign in my yard. Intentional friends. Intentionally meeting me where I am, intentionally handing me a permission slip. Provers 27:9 Oil and perfume make the heart glad, and the sweetness of a friend comes from intentional counsel.

If we refuse to be intentional in the most intimate relationships we have on this earth, we lose. Time will eat up the moments we lackadaisically blow to the wind, and the white noise will win out each time. And let me warn you, sometimes the white noise looks appealing and "good" from the outside, but will suck you dry of life and liberty quicker than a mosquito on the fourth of July.  

Maybe it's time for some self inventory. Maybe it's time to start being more intentionally intentional. Trust me, if I've learned anything in my life it is this; life is way too precious to waste on the white noise!

Here is to chartering a pathway of intentional people!!
Move over Gary, we're rewriting history.

~Sara