Be kind, rewind.

We are in a stage of life that urges us to go faster, be better and make few mistakes. It is incredibly tempting at times to shame or guilt myself into doing things that I know aren't true to who I am inside. We take jobs we hate, offer time to others that isn't really available, and dedicate little space to growing and resting our souls.

Most of all, we find ourselves in a constant battle to achieve perfection. For me, the fight is chiefly up against my perpetually annoying friend--anxiety. I oftentimes crumble under the weight of fear, playing out scenarios in my head that are far from the actual happenings or remote possibilities. And I let these thoughts win. They overtake my mind, fray the nerves of my already worn body, and crush the spirit.

They are not worth my time, or yours. They are a part of my body and yes, they do exist as parts of my everyday experience. But they do not have to be truth. They do not have to alter me and repress what I was so beautifully made to do. And I AM beautiful. I am unique and special and made for such a specific purpose. I feel things deeply and express them wildly. I'm not perfect--I speak my mind too often, become dramatic on occasion and am prone to crying easily. But these are areas for growth, not definitions of my character.

So today, be kind to yourself. When you feel your thoughts racing or your heart burdened with feelings of worthlessness--stop. Rewind. Go back to before the room started to spin and you felt the lies seeping into your being. Give yourself permission and grace to make mistakes. Value the process and value yourself most of all. We were not made to get it right the first time around, and you will get no where at all by bullying yourself into oblivion.

Be kind. Rewind--and feel free to start over again.

Baby spiders.

First off, let me just say I found three baby spiders crawling around my scalp just now.

Did I freak out?

Is that even a question?

I don't know where they came from or what they were thinking trying to nest it up in my hair, but it's safe to say I'm not going to be sleeping very peacefully tonight. One of my biggest fears is that a bunch of tiny little spiders are going to be be born at the foot of my covers and overtake me--a rational thought if YOU have ever found more than one spider comfortably crawling near all the openings that lie within the facial area of the body.

I'm finding that lately my old life has been creeping up like those spiders. There are days I think I am rid of my past ways and then BAM! Baby spider attack. Except that the spiders are the lies of my old life and the attack is much more destructive than anything a harmless eight legged creature could attempt (unless it was a poison one).

I miss the comfort of my misery. It may sound strange, but depression was always a safety net for me. I knew who I was when I was depressed and what was expected of me. It felt more natural for me and right for me to think negatively of myself than to believe something that seemed less true than the labels of "depressed" and "anxious". The lack of responsibility for myself and others was easier than getting better, and far more consistent than anything else had been in my life. I was content. And I was miserable. I had a choice to choose then so I chose it--I had to get up and get out. My life depended on it.

So I did. And I am much, much happier now. Much more filled and fruitful. Anticipatory of the glory and hope that I already feel coursing through my bones. But I also feel pangs of fear. A little freaked out about letting that old me go. About letting certain relationships go, certain expectations for my life. Certain ways that I thought would always be, certain ways of relating to myself and others. I'm resisting the change but the hairs still stand up on my back when I think about the spiders.

And so I have to brush them off. Shake them violently off, if I have to. They want to remind me, to drag me down into the web of destructive thinking. But I am smarter than they, and more capable now. Stronger, and I know that while the feeling of them crawling up my spine is enough to throw me for a spin, I am bigger and more powerful to say the least.

So I kill them with great satisfaction. I still am wary of them, careful of their sneaky ways. But I know that as time goes on they will learn to keep their distance, and I will be better at avoiding their webs. There will be less of them, until there are no more of them that plague my life.

And the old me? Squashed.

The most beautiful lightning bolt.

Her name is Tessa. She is the beautiful spark of lightning that has illuminated my life for the past five years. When I first met her, I didn't know how special she was (truth be told). I remember thinking that she was pretty and athletic, and quiet in a good way. I asked her to be my roommate for our freshman year at JMU, she agreed. I figured she would be a fine person to live with, but didn't expect us to be much more than that. We were so different--different interests, different ways of interacting, different friends.

I was dead wrong.

And that's the understatement of the century. As soon as our parents walked out that dorm room door we became absolutely and irreversibly inseparable. Something about who we were as individuals was brought to incredible life when we were around each other. She taught me to be steady and true, she let me be who I was when no one else was watching. She endured my crazy and loved every minute of it. She taught me to run and to love my body by eating well, and she nurtured my need for adventure.

Most of all, she made me laugh. Simple sentences said in complete honesty and innocence became the basis for inside jokes that would last for years to come. No one else understood our humor, and we created a world in which we were the greatest comedians of all time. I am absolutely positive that everyone loathed being around us, as it was very hard to catch up on what hours of time and daily life together had created--true, beautiful best friendship that could never compare to any other relationship in our lives. We ended up living in the same room together all four years of college, and shared much more than just common space. We had the same major, same job and were involved in the same clubs. And while there were times we definitely needed our space, we always had each other at the end of the day.

And I am so much better for it. Tessa is unlike anyone I have ever known. She has the discipline and grace of a wicked fast and wildly successful marathon runner. In fact, she is so committed to her love of running that it often competes with her relationships (I never minded). She has run countless races, at least three marathons, and has expanded her repertoire to include rocky trails and terrain. She pushes herself to be the very best that she can be, and is one of the hardest workers I have had the privilege of being around. She is always organized, always on top of things, and always there for those that are close to her.


She is also one the most kind, caring individuals you will ever meet. She is committed to her friendships, and is the best at sending cards and gifts via mail. She is encouraging and motivating, and makes you want to find the life that she has managed to grab hold of every single day. She is constantly on the go but always there in spirit--reminding you of her friendship in little ways that make the biggest difference.

Tessa knows exactly who she is. She knows what she loves, what she wants to be, and how she wants to live her life. She has never tried to be anything but herself--and I love her most for that. Having such a constant, stable and never wavering friend has been the biggest blessing at all. She is my family in every way, and I can't say enough to explain how much she means to me.

Some people say that lightning never strikes the same place twice. That the magnificent bolt that streaks the sky is a once in a lifetime experience that cannot be exactly replicated ever again. I think that friendship often occurs the same way. And Tessa...she is my lightning bolt. Whether I get married or not, there will never be another person who will replace the spot in my heart that is reserved specifically and only for her. We have the love of a lifetime filled with all the fruits of a friendship that no man will ever understand. We have walked arm in arm through the good, the bad, and the absolutely heartbreaking. We have laughed, cried, fought and grown into the women we are together. She is my friend, she is my family, and she is the spark of lightning that will never burn out.

As for me? I'm just glad I got to be a part of the strike.

Psalm 34:4.

I sought the Lord, and He answered me; He delivered me from all of my fears.

I'm sitting at the coffee shop I grew up in, the same shopping center that has been here since I was six years old--right next to my neighborhood. Not much has changed here. Shops have come and go but it has mostly stayed the same. There's the same book exchange, the same salon, the same drug store. Small changes have been made, but as a whole it is has stayed true to its moderately helpful if not sub-par shopping experience.

And as I sit here and think back on my own life, I feel the same. I have changed in many small ways, but I'm still the same girl who bought frapps and read magazines in the aisles of the Eckerd pharmacy. I have the same adventurous spirit that prompted me to turn the parking lot into a playground and the Fresh Market into a fascinating documentary on produce. I still walk here from my house, fully believing that the use of cars where bikes or feet are more than capable is a waste of life and money. I still engage my people watching skills, although in a much socially acceptable way (not as a spy who sneaks around and writes things down and creepily stalks peoples' eating habits....I was in a Harriet the Spy mode for awhile there).

I'm still me. But I'm more alive. I don't know exactly when it happened or how, but I am different than before. I am more whole. I am happier. Most of all, I am not afraid. There is still anxiety there--I think that is my natural tendency. But I'm not the nervous wreck I was before. I have become a fighter. I have seen a little bit of what I am capable of, and am hungry for more. I have seen and felt the Lord--his affection for me, his quiet confidence in the plans for my life, his joy at watching me succeed. And I have learned to trust him.

Thinking to last summer, I never could have imagined I would be where I am now. Suffering from some serious depression and anxiety, my view of myself and life as a whole was in the pits, literally. I felt fear and despair over everything. I didn't trust myself, I didn't trust my God, and I did not trust my emotions. I didn't know where life was headed, and I was terrified of the darkness that seemed to consume my waking hours. This year was an emotional and mental hell, and each day felt like a mountain with no summit. Eventually, I stopped expecting to find the top. I focused on my day-to-day, on what I could find joy and life in within the moment. It wasn't much. A cup of coffee, a phone call from a friend, a constant thankfulness for a steady job (though not exactly and easy one). And I made it through. Slowly. Painfully. With much doubt and a great deal of tears.

I stopped looking for answers. I stopped trying to figure out myself and the situations surrounding me. I stopped trying to avoid the pain and anger and sadness. I confronted myself. I confronted my emotions. I confronted the God who claimed to care about this world and the things going on in it. I couldn't see hope, and I couldn't fake it anymore.

The strange thing is, my acceptance of myself and the life that was happening around me ended up being my salvation. Instead of trying to make things work the way I wanted them to, I became aware that I may not always have the best solutions. I realized that things don't works in my timing not because God is mean, but because he is ultimately good and wise.

The most important thing I came to understand is that if there is one thing that God promises it is to be there in our emotions. While he often shows up in our circumstances, these are not the things he garentees. He comes through in his ability to instill confidence and hope, to offer peace when the world is crazy chaotic. He promises to lead us in truth--truth of who we are in him, truth of what his death really meant on the cross. He is hope, even when things are most desperate. And this hope--it is instilled in us. We are Christ--the hope of glory through Jesus. Do you know what that feels like, to know that his hope and glory are shining through you for the world to see? To know that no matter your faults, your failures, your weaknesses, that he can use you. He will use you, it is not in his nature to let you fall.

And that's how I have changed. I sought the Lord for two long years, and he answered me. Fully, without me bettering myself first. He delivered me from my fears and instilled a hope for a future. In the area that scared me most--my emotions--he brought incredible grace and truth. He propelled me to do things I would have never done before, he helped me in my fear.

I am going to grad school in the fall to be a counselor. Me, the queen of all fears. The one who is afraid of emotions, afraid of taking chances, and who fights for control. I have listened to the one who made me, and have decided to follow no matter the cost. I have decided to live.

And the King of Glory--he is going to bring hope. Through me, through you, if only we let him deliver us from our fears.

The queen of papusas.

I love food--I love Mexican food more. Perhaps someone who loves this food group more than I do is my beautifully diverse friend Kristen Frederick. Fortunately for both of us, we lived in Harrisonburg for the past five years (and more), where authentic and delicious latino food reigns supreme. You can find taco trucks nearly anywhere within this small town, and there is never a shortage of avocado, lime, or pico de gallo to be found.

The most unique dish I encountered in my time there was papusas. These are kind of hard to describe to those of us who have never had them--but I would say they are a mix between a pancake and hash brown. Kristen pretty much stumbled upon them one day and immediately convinced me they were a necessary food group....which was true for my taste buds but bad news for my stomach (an unfortunate reality of most mexican food out there). Either way, whenever I craved this or any other taco truck delicacy, I knew I could count on Kristen as a readily available and willing date. She was the queen of papusas, and continues to hold a spot in my heart as one of my very best friends.

However, Kristen's love of latino goes deeper than the comida described above. Her heart explodes for the many populations of people that represent this rich culture. She volunteers regularly for an after-school program that seeks to assist low-income, hispanic families in the community. She has traveled abroad to several spanish speaking countries, recently returning from four months of service to a women's shelter in Peru. She is both a friend and mentor to many of the women and children who live in the neighborhood behind her church, never hesitating to help in any way she can. It is not unusual to see her with a car full of kids on the way to some fun event that she had planned for them, or to find out that she had spent the day with someone who simply needed a ride to the doctor's office or hospital--she  is that gracious with her time.

Indeed, I am constantly amazed at the room in Kristen's heart for others. It seems like there is never a shortage of love for those that are most important to her, and even to those she barely knows. She has to be one of the most empathetic people that I have ever been around. In some of my darkest moments Kristen was there--not only to hold my hand but to cry with me. Her patience and endurance through the trials of life are an incredible blessing to those whose burdens are too heavy to carry alone. She takes on these hardships as her own, asking no questions and demanding no answers. She actively loves no matter what the situation. As Father Boyle (founder of Homeboy Ministries) puts it, she lets the pain of others have a purchase on her life. Her compassion passes no judgement and her arms open wide to those who suffer, offering a place of refuge and protection for the weary. She is the embodiment of a gentle spirit, and I am privileged to have witnessed her gifts first hand.

Kristen is also a Registered Nurse, and while I know the job can be less than gratifying at times, I have no doubt that she is excellent at what she does. Her hope is to eventually serve in those countries which have little or no health care, another example of her selflessness. I know that wherever she ends up she will continue to bring love and light to those around her, for these are natural aspects of who she is that cannot be stifled by her surroundings. Her dedication to caring for others physically, emotionally and spiritually are sure to transform the people she serves--no matter how long the process may take.

As I mentioned before, papusas are hard to describe because they are difficult to define in texture and in taste. They are a little bit of everything--meat, cheese, beans--and are prepared different ways depending on where you go. They are surprising. They are an experience--the truck, the smells, the people and the food. But they are always good. And the reina of papusas? She is the same. You don't know the gem that you have until you are with her and can understand her love for you. It is surprising, and it is an experience straight from the heart of Jesus. And while papusas come and go, this queen will rule the world with her goodness and kindness and extraordinary heart for years to come--and we will all be better off for it.

The Unkle of the world.

If you haven't met Steph Raj, you haven't met an Unkle. I'm not sure where or how it was started that she should call herself an Uncle (much less an Unkle), but it's the truth all the same. She is the prime example of a crazy but harmless relative that rules the world and changes lives. It's really that simple.

 I'm not kidding or exaggerating when I say she is the stuff of miracles. Her ability to love people is supernatural--the kind that Jesus always talks about in the Bible. I know of no one else who so readily embraces her enemies, has patience with the poor in spirit and who sacrifices so willingly what others begrudgingly give up. Her understanding of people and their needs goes past compassion and straight to the heart of empathy. She goes into the darkest places courageously and confidently, knowing that there is always hope and light to be found even in the most desperate of situations. She fights for life and always wins, paying no mind to how big or small the victories may seem to others. It doesn't matter to her--all people are worth the same amount of care and effort in her book.

Mostly I love her because she has the best sense of humor I know. She can have fun with anyone, and makes everyone laugh at her ridiculous jokes or (affectionate) impressions. She doesn't take things too seriously, which is really an advantage in the grand scheme of things. Most importantly, she doesn't take herself seriously. Steph is the biggest example and greatest receiver of grace. She lets it permeate all of who she is as well as her actions towards others--a rare gift that few are able to acquire. She doesn't give up when things get hard or messy. Truly, the perseverance she has in believing the best in people makes those people believe the best in themselves. It's an incredible and beautiful thing, really.

The reason I can say these things about the Unkle are because 1) she has demonstrated them in my own life, and 2) she has demonstrated them towards her campers/staff every summer I have known her. We both work for a non-profit organization that serves low-income kids from New York City (an adventurous feat in itself). She is incredibly talented at counseling the young girls that are placed in her care for the week, and is able to speak to them with great authority and humility all at once. And her campers eat it up. They trust her and believe her when she talks about Jesus. They know she expects the best from them and know she is serious enough about their lives to hold them to a higher standard than the rest of the world does. She breaks them down and builds them up. They go home changed forever, knowing that they are wholly loved and accepted on a level they may never have experienced before. Miracles, I tell ya.

During the school year, Steph is studying to be a nurse, which is maybe the best profession she could ever pick short of being an Unkle. Once again, I am constantly impressed by her diligence in working towards this goal. No matter what the obstacles are that come her way, she beats the crap out of them. She is a force to be reckoned with, and never takes no as an answer. There is no doubt in my mind that wherever she ends up, she will continue to transform the lives of those she encounters. She loves hard, and isn't scared away easily. I am so blessed and so thankful to have her as one of my friends, and I know that anyone who knows her would say the same. So thanks, God, for sending her out and making her so naturally amazing--the world will never be the same.

The completing joy of community.

"I have told you this so that my joy may be in you and that your joy may be complete. My command is this: Love each other as I have loved you."

To me, community is the tangible representation of love. I have seen many examples of love being displayed individually or in particular instances. But I think that the love found in a community of close knit friends is the most beautiful of all.

Community is messy--I think that's why love found within its walls is so special. To find a group of people who are able to walk together through life faithfully and full of compassion is a unique feat worth paying attention to. Relationships take work. Relationships between couples take even more work. Relationships between and among more than three people can be seemingly impossible.

And I'm not talking about those communities in which you know peoples' names but not their hearts. You know the ones I'm talking about. The ones where you see someone in passing and promise to get coffee or catch up "when things get less busy." Let's be honest here--it's not going to happen. I always promise to give up that game, but fear of seeming rude seems to overrule that decision. It should probably be more important to me to be genuine than popular, but again, let's be honest. Most of the time, we love ourselves way more than we love others.

So, I'm talking about those small and rare communities that really live out life together. That attend every wedding, graduation, baby shower or dinner party that there is. That are present in the best of times and also in the really hard times. Most of all, the ones that are there in the pretty ugly times. The times where you are perhaps the worst version of yourself, but they still show up and love you and remind you of who you truly are again. Those are the communities I think that we were made to create and sustain, and the ones that we so often give up on.

I will be the first to say, I am absolutely terrible at community stuff. I am 100% an introvert by nature. I love being by myself. I have alot of fun by myself. It's so much easier for me to exist on my own. It's much safer, and much less complicated. You will most often find me in the corner at parties, or clinging to someone I am familiar with. I can be extroverted if I want to and am trying really hard, but it is most definitely not my first choice.

But lately, I have been craving community. It's true. All my friends are really surprised when we get together and I beg everyone to hang out or stay up or play a game together. I think it's the loss of them and the dispersion of our lives that has made me this way. I have realized how blessed I was to have such close, loving friends to experience the last five years with.

Most of all, I have been learning the healing nature of communities and those friendships within them. I was almost positive that I needed to spend this summer in solitude, prayer, and intense personal time with God. And I have needed that--it has centered me and grown my heart in many ways. But the most and best healing that has come has been from my time spent with friends. They have slowly and surely brought the Sarah back out that has been missing for the past year.


They have listened to my stories and my heartache, have encouraged me and told me truth about who I am and who God has always been. They have made me laugh so hard I cry and moved me with their own thoughts on faith and courage and life. They have been genuine--both in their love and vulnerability. They have shared themseleves in humility and offered me much, much grace.

If you find yourself in a community like this, hold on to them. Make the effort. Buy the ticket, drive the miles to see and spend time with them. They are the most important relationships in your life. Love them well because it brings you joy, and most of all, because it makes you complete.