teach me that you love me.

I prayed these words over and over for a full two years of my life. I was so lost in my pain--so blinded to everything good and right and hopeful in the world. I was confused. I felt let down and left out by the God who claimed that He cared. I had given life my best shot and had come up short on everything. On joy, on peace and most of all on love.

My journals were wrought with questions. The tear-streaked pages were evidence of the desperate heart that desperately needed to be heard. Even now as I look back on those entries I cringe at the complete loss of sanity I experienced in the midst of the most turbulent season of my life. I truly cannot believe I made it through, and I am thankful to now be in a place where I can reflect thoughtfully on my past self.

However, what is most incredible about the ability to reflect is that I am now able to see the miracle that God was working all along. Yeah, I said it--miracle. Anyone who knew me over the last couple of years can attest that it is true. My life is a miracle.

Here's the thing--people always say that their hardest times in life are the times that they felt closest to God. Now, I wouldn't necessarily say that is always the case. There were times that I felt the Lord's presence in the darkest hours, but then there were also a lot of times that I didn't. In fact, there were times that I felt nothing but emptiness. I felt nothing but exhaustion. I felt nothing but sadness. I felt that there was no possible way that God gave a crap about my life, because the emptiness and exhaustion and sadness were so deeply penetrating and so unbelievably never-ending. No one told me that pain could be like that. That life could be like that. So void of hope and challenging in the most ridiculous ways.

Where was the God that loved me?

And so, that became my request of Him--teach me that you love me.

In my finances--teach me that you love me.
In my relationships--teach me that you love me.
In my job--teach me that you love me.
In my depression and fear--teach me that you love me.
In sickness and death--teach me that you love me.

I could go on. There were so many ways that I had given up on the Lord. So much bitterness and anger in my heart. So much doubt. I stopped believing. I stopped trusting. But I never stopped saying, "teach me that you love me."

I had to. I had nothing left. I think your body and mind get to a point of surrender where you stop fighting the way things are and give in to the process of pain. Its a strangely freeing experience--to know that there is nothing you can immediately do to change your situation or what you are going through. To confront the things that you have spent so much time running from. To ask yourself the honest questions--of yourself and God.

I would never choose to go back to that season. But I would never ask for it to be removed from my life either. Because here's the thing about it--God showed up.

Not in the sense that he wasn't there one day, and then suddenly appeared the next. I think its more that He was there all along, that He knew my heart and knew what I needed to get to the point where I am today. I was just too burdened and weary at the time to lift up my head and see him bowing low to meet my broken life.

I came across this verse in my old journal today. It was towards the end of my fight, right before I was to enter the joyful season I am currently in:

Israel, put your hope in the Lord, for with the Lord is unfailing love and with him full redemption.

Yesterday, I was talking to my housemate about what God meant to me, and I found myself saying these exact words: "I feel like I have learned to trust God with my whole life, because I know that He loves me and knows me far better than I know myself, and the peace I have in being able to rest in Him is well worth the wait."

Wait, I said that? Those words came from my mouth?

I have learned to trust in love again. I could not be more blessed, or more in love with life as I am right now. I feel whole, I feel healed. I feel this great big hope that I want to share with everyone, that I want to explode with because I feel it so strongly. I know deep in my heart that He loves me. I know that I know that I know. He has taught me in such a sweet way that could never be replaced or reproduced by anything other than what I have been through these past years.

Our God is real. He is unfailing in hope, fully redeeming in love, and absolutely 100% for us.

He loves you. Let that be lesson enough for today.

Restless.

I think we were born into restlessness. As I have gotten older it has become painfully apparent to me that we were not meant for this broken world. Our souls were built for so much more life than what is offered here on earth. And because of it, we are always striving, always challenging, and always in a state of restlessness.

Or at least I am. I had the opportunity to visit some of my beautiful friends from NYC this past week, and I was reminded of how alive I am really capable of being. It was so good for my heart to experience joy and laughter and real, genuine love through my time with them. They bring out the very best version of Sarah there is, and I always leave feeling extra privileged to be a part of their lives.

But this time, I also left with a deep sense of restlessness. And you know, I think much of this stems from a fear of losing control. I want the things that I want when I want them. I want to know that God cares about my happiness, that He is going to deliver the things that I have neatly written out on a list of life expectations for the coming years. And until I receive them, I feel restless.

Or so I think. But really, the truth is--I can be satisfied and fully rested in the here and now.

One of my friends put it so simply when he said "you will never come second by putting God first." And you know what, I think he is right. The fact of the matter is, the Lord created us restless so that we would find real rest within Him. I know it's a typical Christian idea that only Jesus can satisfy, and that I am just another person writing another blog about what is really the whole meaning of the gospel. But here's the thing--so many people write about it because it is really, really true.

I could spend a whole lot of time complaining about my life. I could also spend alot of time planning out my future, fighting and pushing and running really hard after the dreams that I must have. I have already spent many nights in fear of a hopeless future--a terrifying world where I live alone with cats and work as a secretary in a dark office in the most remote part of suburbia.

And so then I feed into the restlessness. I work hard to avoid any possible requests that God may make of me--any challenges that may make me uncomfortable or force me to give up the things I really want.

Here's the thing--God is for us. Did you know that? He loves us. He ultimately wants us to be satisfied and most of all, He wants us to take our restlessness and rest our hopes in Him. I have spent so much time looking for the place where I belong. It is tempting to think that if only this or that were to happen or if I were different or had another job life would be better.

The incredible thing is, we can take our restlessness to Christ and He uses it. He directs us, fulfills us and leads us to the very places we never thought we would be. He does this not because He's vindictive or wants us to suffer, but because He knows there is no greater peace and joy that can be experienced except that which is found in Him.

I don't want to miss out on my life anymore by being restless. I want to be very still, to listen to what God has to say to me about myself and my day-to-day experiences. He can do so much if only I let Him. And that is the tricky part--we have to let him. We can not accept His blessings if we do not learn to let go of our ultimately unfullilling ideals of happiness.

Mostly, I think we want easy satisfaction. We want to be gratified now, and we would rather settle for less love than more. And when we are restless and then run after those things which are short-lived and small glimpses of true life, that's exactly what we are doing. We are rejecting the life which Christ lovingly gave us, we are settling for half of what has already been made available to us on the cross.

So, be restless in the best possible way--run after Him who made you, knows you and wants to see His glory displayed wherever you may be.

You won't regret it.

The countdown.

One year ago at about this time, my life was changed. By Beyonce.

I'm not kidding. If you want a picture perfect painting of a woman with unapologetic strength and incredible beauty, just pop in one of her fabulous CDs. She has taught me the very important aspect of sass in every day life. She has brought truth to my questions of single-hood and empowered me to become a survivor. And yes, I do that believe that girls run the world--did you even have to ask?

Most personal to me, however, is the fact that she taught me to count down. I don't know whether or not you have heard the actual song, Countdown, by Ms. Sasha Fierce--but if you haven't, you should, and you should right NOW. I have posted the youtube link below for your convenience.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2XY3AvVgDns

I mean, can an anthem get any better than this? If you want to know how to love someone wholeheartedly while also remaining fiercely independent, Beyonce is most certainly your woman. She makes it all sound so easy and so AWESOME at the same time. You tell me you didn't want to prance around your kitchen in some hott high heels after listening to THAT.

Anyway, the Countdown is mostly meaningful to me because it signifies how much growth can occur in a year. Last fall, I was a struggling person. Actually, I don't even know if you could call me a person at that point in time. It was a tough life, you can take my word for it. I was running after Jesus, for sure, depending on my friends (and therapist), alot, and doing whatever I could to find the spark of life that had seemed to disappear in my soul. But I was dying inside. Slowly, painfully, I was fading into darkness.

And then--a halo appeared.

Now, I know you are thinking I'm being over dramatic, and truth be told--I am . But I really do feel like God sent me the angel of Beyonce to boost my spirits and remind me that, I too, have a Sasha Fierce within me. I have the potential for greatness, respect, and all around kick-ass awesomeness. And what was sweet about the Countdown, was that it was OK that I wasn't quite there yet. That didn't mean I wasn't trying, it didn't mean that I lacked what it took at the time, and it most certainly didn't mean that it would never happen. It was, however, the start of my very own countdown.

I would play this song over and over and over again, until the words no longer held meaning for someone else but for me, Sarah, the girl who had exhausted her options and come up empty so many times before. The girl who never took chances, who accepted life as it was handed to her, who refused to be anything more than what she was for fear of failure.

One year later, that girl does not exist. The countdown has dwindled to one, and Sarah?

She's back. Rocking those high heels and demanding from life all that she so sadly gave up before.

So thank you, Beyonce. Thank you for teaching us to believe in who we are, for reminding us of all we have to offer, and most of all--for teaching us to countdown to the most fabulous version of ourself there is or ever will be.

The coloring book.

There are days where I wake up and that feeling is still there. You know--that one. The feeling of depression, hopelessness, despair.

For as good and as great as my days and life have been lately, I still get them. Those days.

I don't like waking up like that. Feeling empty and purposeless inside. Feeling dead--numb to the world and apathetic to my relationships. Feeling like my life doesn't matter, that life itself doesn't matter. The worst is feeling nothing at all--no pain, no anxiety. Just blank. A canvas that has lost its color and substituted all that beauty for grey. For nothing.

Well, if therapy (and being a counseling graduate student) has taught me anything thus far it is that I have the power to PAINT IN ALL THE COLORS I WANT. I have the choice to use whatever materials I can handle, really. Newspaper, yarn, chalk, pastels--they are all mine and my responsibility to engage. Art doesn't just happen on its own--you have to create it.

I think that life, by in large, is very similar. There is a whole lot of mystery out there--a whole lot of beauty and love and peace that is meant to be experienced--that needs to be experienced by someone. Its pretty easy to get stuck in routine. We get caught up in our schedules and our responsibilities. We forget how to color outside the lines. We forget to find joy and and meaning in the world around us. Most of all, we forget ourselves. We dress ourselves in grey and substitute the canvas for a coloring book. We want direction, not imagination. We crave control and exchange adventure for what seems safest.

Ultimately, we lose.

LIFE is WAITING. It's there, just for you. There is so much, so much good to be done in the world. Hope is a possibility--for you, for others. We have dreams to fulfill, our own dreams as well as the dreams of others. You can change, and in turn, change the world.

So today, when you catch yourself in a cycle you don't want to be in, do something. Anything--take a walk, watch the sunset, ask a friend to get coffee. Don't stay in your cubicle and color in that damn coloring book. Buy a canvas, fill it with color. And in the same way, color your days with the things that are important--the beauty of love, laughter, and always life.

To the kids of Mont Lawn Camp-I owe you.

To my MLC campers:

After my first summer at camp, a teacher I had asked me to compose a letter to someone I thought needed to hear how I felt about them. I chose you all. Thank you for allowing me to be a part of your lives for all these summers--you are my heroes and I am so incredibly blessed by what each of you have brought to my life.

Don't ever forget it!

An Open Ended Letter the Kids of Mont Lawn Camp

            Do you know how loved you are? Do you know that you are precious, unique, and one of a kind? No one can replace you in this world. Your smile, your laugh, and all your movements are things to rejoice over. The day you were born you brought forth light and life you didn’t even know you had. Even if you do nothing at all, your importance does not dwindle. You are beautiful by just being.

            When you are sad, when you feel that you are nothing special, do you know how meaningful and irreplaceable you are? You are worth everything, without the makeup, clothes, or money. You don’t have to be a good dancer, singer, or anything else. You are wonderful just as you are. Do you know that? You don’t have to be tough, and you don’t have to fight back. Your power does not come from other people, no one can tell you who you are or what you deserve—because you deserve the world.

            If you fall, mess up, or feel unsuccessful, know that you have grace. Know that not one is perfect in this world, and never will be. Outward appearances and brittle smiles mean nothing if your heart is not in the right place. All that is expected of you is what you can give, and that, my dear, is everything. Don’t be afraid of failure, because it does not determine your value. I sincerely believe that you can do anything. Dream big, little one.

            Please know that it is ok to cry. That it is ok to depend on someone else, and ok to love. Yes, it may be painful, and yes, you will get hurt, but there is nothing left in this life if you close your heart to every opportunity to care and be cared for. Move forward in hope and faithfulness, giving help to those who need it. Pick others up as you go, because sometimes healing comes from walking with them through their own struggles. You will be amazed at your own strength.

            When you feel that you are at your breaking point, that nothing will be right again—remember that life is always worth living. There is such joy yet to be had. You have the opportunity to write your own story with whatever you want in it, the very world is at your fingertips. Don’t be ashamed of your background; don’t be ashamed of where you’re from, because they have made you who you are today. You are capable of all things. Your story is one to be proud of. You are smart, you will excel, and I believe in you so very much.

            Thank you for being a part of my journey, you have no idea how much it has changed me. I have been inspired by your hearts, by your talents, by your very presence in my life. I have received such joy from watching you work together, love each other, and selflessly place your friends and family before yourself. You put almost every adult I know to shame, including myself. It has truly be a privilege to spend time with every one of you—I hope you know that you have taught me to love, that you have taught me the tenderness of caring for others, and the life that comes from opening your heart in vulnerability.

            Continue to smile, continue to reach out, and continue to let your colors show. You are going to rock the very core of this world with who you are. Stop comparing yourself to others. You are who you are, where you are—you can and will make a difference however little it may seem. And always remember, please always remember, that you are a blessing in every way. Rest knowing that you simply are—and that is more than enough.

Have the courage to be OK.

How did I get to be so blessed in this life?

There are these friends I have from this camp I worked at--I call them family. We are a diverse, crazy group of individuals that only God himself could have possibly placed together. We come from different  everything. Different backgrounds, different states, different ethnicities and completely different cultures. Who would have thought that a White girl from small town suburbia and a Puerto Rican from the Bronx could ever be friends, much less familia?

This is just one example of the many awesomely inspiring relationships that I have had the privilege of experiencing first hand.

You see if I had to sum up what my friends from camp--my family--have taught me in the five years of knowing them, it's that I am loved exactly as I am. I am accepted, I am celebrated, and I am genuinely and whole-heartedly loved. Do you know what that feels like? To be surrounded by people who graciously and openly welcome your successes, your heartbreaks and even your failures into their lives? Who take you by the hand or hold you by the heart and remind you of who you are when you feel like you can't even begin to be yourself again?

It feels like heaven. It feels like God knows your heart and put those people there to show his infinite love and care for you. Not "people" in general or the stranger next to you in church. You, the individual, unique and broken as you are. He knows.

I think for me, he knows that what I needed most of all was courage.

You see, my family has courage with a capitol C in the front. It is what shapes their days--it shows up in the way they serve the people around them, in the way they view themselves, and most of all in the way they love me. They have all faced their share of challenges and some pretty dark tunnels. They have wrestled with the hard things and struggled through their doubts. There are seasons they are not so proud of, but I can find many more reasons to be proud of them. They have shown me what it means to courageously step out into the world with big expectations and even bigger dreams.


And you know what? Courage isn't always what it looks like in the movies. Sometimes it is quiet--even unseen. It can be in the decision to take a tricky job or a leap of faith on something that isn't exactly guaranteed. But best of all, I think I see it in their courage to be OK. They look at themselves, at the people around them and at me and say, "you are OK." Not, "you need to try harder" or "you could have done better" but , "YOU ARE OK."

I don't mean OK in the sense of mediocre or barely acceptable. I mean it in the all encompassing, grace inducing love filled acceptance of the person exactly as they are. When I am freaking out or insecure or positive they think I am a total failure, they look right past my crazy, grab hold of my hand and say, "YOU ARE OK." I love you, and I'm not going anywhere.

Courage. They have it--and little by little they are instilling it in me.


 So family--know that I am so incredibly thankful for every hour you have spent telling me that my crafts are the best thing the Hobby House has or ever will see. Thank you for assuring me that though I may have fifty emotional break-downs in front of you, you do not get tired of hearing me talk (though I know that sometimes you do...we've all been there). For letting me make mistakes and waiting patiently for me to grow into the person I was made to be.

And in the meantime, thanks for giving me the courage to be OK.

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.