A new thought

Hello friends!

I should be working hard on my homework, but it's not happening tonight. Instead, I'm going to talk to you.

I've decided to stop being afraid of people. It's crazy, I know, but I've been doing alot of thinking and that's what I have decided. See, I am not an intimidating personage (at least, I don't think I am- I'm certainly not intimidated by me.) As Piglet says, "It's hard to be brave when your such a small animal." I've generally viewed strangers, and even some acquaintances, as dangerous and, as a sort of defense, given them a wide berth and generally tiptoed around them, avoiding eye contact if possible. But now I think that was a silly plan. Sooner or later, even the smallest creatures get noticed, and it's the scared and lonely ones at the edge of the pack who get eaten first anyway. Plus (and this is a major plus) every time a person encounters another person, it is an opportunity for that person to be treated like a decent human being (whether they feel like a member of the human race or not). How ridiculous would I be if I kept waiting around to be called to some far off mission field when all this time God has been bringing the mission field to me in the form of that punk kid on the skateboard at Wal-Mart whose baggy clothes and black eyeliner are just daring me to treat him like the leper he thinks he is? Should I pass up the opportunity to treat him like he's a valuable person with a future? Heck no! If everyone just treats the kid like he's a menace, sooner or later he's going to act like one (if he hasn't already), but if I can with a simple smile and friendly greeting plant a little seed of doubt in his 'nobody gives a ___ about me, so ___ you all' persona, maybe he'll begin to see things just a little bit differently.

Besides, what is the good of saying I believe in an omnipotent God who loves me, who is the ultimate definition of love, if I'm not going to act like it? If all that is true, and God's Holy Spirit really does live in me, then every place that belongs to me belongs to Him, and everywhere I step is a part of His domain, and in His domain I am priceless...and so is everybody else.

Don't worry, I'm not going to go passing my phone number out to every ne'er-do-well that crosses my path. Being kind to people does not mean being careless, it means seeing (or trying to see) them the way God sees them, and acting accordingly.

Well, sorry if that got a little preachy. It wanted to come, so I let it (which is, according to Pooh Bear, the best way to write).

Someday, I won't be spending my Saturdays by myself. As fun as it may sound, doing whatever you want whenever you want to is not all it's cracked up to be. Someday, I will be surrounded by people-- husband, kids, the works. Probably I will be very busy arranging things, providing things, disciplining when necessary, enjoying and being enjoyed. And in the midst of all that action and interaction, I hope that I remember what it was like to be alone. I hope that I can appreciate this season that I'm in right now so that when things are different this time will not have been wasted. Because you can really only live one moment at a time, and when I am living this future life that I hope for, I won't be enjoying my own uninterrupted thoughts in my secret room in Mount Vernon where everything I want is within arm's reach and the dishes are done in two minutes.

It has taken me a while to realize that just because things aren't what I planned them to be, it is not a sign of cosmic failure. It just means that, apparently, my plans weren't big enough.

Guess where I am right now!

Give up?

I'm in my new digs, my secret room in that big ole house up on the hill in Mount Vernon, listening to Paul Simon, sipping a caramel macchiato (sp?) and siphoning off my downstairs neighbor's internets while it rains like the end of the world outside. I heave a great sigh of contentment. (Seriously, I really did just sigh. I'm that pleased!)

For those of you not in the know, I recently moved. Actually, my family helped me move (an adventure worthy of its own post. Sometime when I'm not so relaxed I shall relate the harrowing affair in its entirety. It involves a ton of junk that Sarah hasn't the heart to get rid of, a "one-wheel drive" U-haul, a hotel room, and lots and lots of snow.)

I just had one of those Christmas breaks that are so good for the soul that they leave you feeling ready to take on the world. My mom and dad and brother and I basically got snowed in at my grandpa's house in Port Angeles (the promised land--flowing with creamy soups and prime rib). We consumed a scandalous amount of food (four Costco pumpkin pies!), slid down the hill on giant garbage bags (snow in the face, but still delicious fun!), played card games, figured out the chord changes for a couple of Christmas Carols, watched movies, and snoozed. But the best part, the very best part of it all, was the time we spent just sitting around and talking. It was sweet and rich like expensive dark chocolate. And, to top it off, I got to hold the long awaited Barley* (a.k.a. Greta) on two separate pilgrimages to Walterland!

Well, that's about all I can write right now. Mr. Simon has fallen silent, my frothy caramel-flavored coffee has been sipped to its whipped cream and syrup dregs, and laundry beckons.

"Farewell, old friend[s]...until our next meeting."
(Who says that line, Adrienne? Mine is an evil laugh...)

* 'The Barley' is an affectionate family nickname for my cousin's new baby. Her real name is Greta Cherie Walter. She was just born two and a half weeks ago.

Wow, these blogs are not easy to keep up!
OK, so maybe they are, and I'm just lazy. Oh well. We're not getting graded for this, right?

So lately, I've been thinking about words and how silly they are. More specifically, I've been trying to think of a list of words that make me laugh...and then I realized that it's the context that makes them funny, so what good is a list? Nevertheless, in an attempt to put something on my blog for the month of December, here are some words that make me smirk whenever I hear them.

The first is the word "Abyss." Now, I know there's not anything inherently funny about a huge gaping hole that never ends, full of darkness and doom and all that. But whenever I hear someone say the word "abyss," I like to pretend that they really said "abbess." And then it's hilarious. I mean, who doesn't laugh at the thought of an enormous and malicious balrog (to take an example from the Fellowship of the Ring) being sent back to some equally enormous matriarchal nun, to suffer a stern lecture and have his knuckles rapped for terrorizing those poor hobbits?

And while we're on the subject of movies, the entire "Chronicles of Riddick" series wins the prize for most ridiculous word usage. If the movies weren't so full of grisly violence and naked ladies, I would watch them more often, just to laugh at their (apparently serious) choice of names, like "furions" (those people get really angry all the time) and "underverse" (every time I hear it, I think of underwear, and I can't take any of them seriously).
I have to watch myself when I go to the movies, because otherwise I'll snigger at the most inopportune times. My friend Alisha likes this, because then she feels safe to smirk when the evil villain, in all seriousness, dons his preposterous spiky metal hat (decorated with the grimaces of the tortured souls he has vanquished, no doubt) before grandstanding about world domination, etc., just long enough for our hero to prevent him from pushing the button that will destroy the universe...or underverse as the case may be.

OK, so there it is, your December post. I hope you like it.

And if I don't write again until January, Merry Christmas to everyone!

Sarah

PS- If you want to have some more fun with movies, try watching the Three Musketeers and substituting the word "mouseketeers" every time someone refers to "musketeers."

Happy Post

I realize that my last post was a bit of a downer, and then I didn't write for weeks afterward. Do not concern yourself, devoted reader, with the thought that I have been miserable this whole time. I haven't. I'm just not always as eloquent when I'm busy and happy. Lots of writers are that way. How many poems do you know of that go: "Life is swell. I like myself. Yay!"? Isn't it far more common to read something along these lines: "I feel like an orange that's been run over with all my dried up guts sticking out. Oh yeah, and nobody understands me."?

So, in order to bring balance to the Force (or, at least, to this blog) I have composed an open list of things that make me happy. This is a technique stolen from my friend Alisha (writer and grammarian), and I stole the idea of stealing it from my other friend Adrienne (librarian extraordinaire)...or else it was the other way around. Anyway, here it is:

My Open List of Happiness*

1. kids
2. hugs from kids
3. when kids are kind to other kids
4. chicken dinner
5. my brother's "interested face"
6. my mom's tattoo
7. when my dad preaches
8. sweaters
9. music (if I got more specific, this list would never end)
10. the gospel of John
11. CS Lewis and GK Chesterton
12. classic Trek
13. when the sidekick saves the day
14. car trips
15. family gatherings
16. early mornings on vacation
17. the sound of people sleeping
18. a good conversation
19. when I can help someone
20. the smell of trees
21. sunset in the desert
22...


Ah, that feels better!

*This is an "open" list. That means you can add things to the list if you want. Simply post a reply and start with the next number on the list. Interactive art!

I don't know why it is so much a part of who I am that whenever life gets murky, I must assume a) that it's my fault, and therefore b) I have to/can fix it. Anyone who's lived for a while will tell you that these things are not a given, but do I ever listen to them? Apparently not.

The last two days have been dark and bitter, and not for any outside reason. I guess you could say God and I had a temporary difference of opinion about certain things. I don't know what that's like for Him, but it leaves me feeling like there's no air in the room. It just goes to show that even for the ridiculously blessed, life is NOT EASY. Being a grown-up is just darn hard.

I have, however, made a few discoveries as I begin to breathe again. The first is that you have to ask for help (and then you have to take it and work with it when it comes). And no, you don't get to pick how your life's going to go. I will probably be learning that lesson over and over again. Fortunately, Love is patient. I think a changed heart is God's biggest miracle. The second thing I learned is that I am exactly where I'm supposed to be today. No clue about tomorrow, but for today at least I have a purpose and I can do some real good. Souls out there need me, and a broken me will do just fine.
Thank God for that!
For reals. Thank you, God.

Love, Sarah

"Come and Play with Me..."

I love teaching kindergarteners! (Okay, I love them all. But today I am particularly glad to be teaching kindergarteners.) I think its a combination of the disarming cuteness that ensures the survival of the young, the fact that all my songs and stories and jokes are new to them, and the confidence that comes from knowing that you really can't go wrong with an audience for whom "What animal sounds did you hear?", "My cat had babies yesterday!", and "I have to go to the bathroom," equals a conversation. Anyway, I try not to teach them all my favorite songs in the first month of school, which is why we didn't learn the Calliope Song until today. The Calliope Song is awesome because it is simple (without becoming annoying--to me, anyway), and because the accompanying track features a variety of animal noises that sound off at seemingly random intervals during the song. It is so much fun to watch the little five-year-old faces as they react to the animal noises. First, there's surprise and a bit of disbelief, and then there's delight when it happens again. By the third time a giggle or two will leak out, hilarity increasing with each new sound, until there are more of us laughing than singing. Oh, I tell you it is good for the soul!

I can't believe I get paid to do this.