with anticipation

As far as kids go, you never know when you might be seeing or doing or experiencing something for the last time...The last late night with an infant, the last time crawling, the last bottle, the last diaper change, the last purchase of clothes ending in a "T", the last ride with training wheels, the last push on a swing, the last little handful of flowers from the garden, the last hair wash from mom, the last swim with floaties, the last request for a Band-Aid, the last fear of the dark, or the last refusal to spend a night away from home. 

So in that light I will try my best to breathe in these seemingly tedious aspects of parenthood, and watch with anticipation for the exciting firsts that sometimes go unnoticed. 

aim high

My dad used to teach people how to drive tractor trailers as part of his job, so you can imagine how thrilled I was to have him teach me to drive a car. It was like school - learning little catch phrases and acronyms to make me a better, more defensive driver.

Shockingly enough, a little gem of wisdom came back to me today: aim high in steering. If you're new to driving school lingo, that means looking toward the road far up ahead instead of the road immediatey in front of you. It gives you a view of the whole road, including traffic issues ahead, and allows for time to think about a plan of action if you need one. The other thing I find, even after driving for over 20 years, is that when I don't aim high, my car isn't centered in the lane.

When you're 16 years old and have a brand new permit in your pocket, the annoying driving-school-dad's advice seems really dumb. I'm sure at the time I gave him a good eye-roll after the hundredth time hearing him tell me to aim high. Obviously the advice stuck, though, and at 37 years old here I am still remembering it. But the reason I remembered it today had nothing to do with driving my car.

My Dad is dying...It's kind of "official". It's not imminent, but for the first time one of his doctors gave him a definitive time frame. I've gone back and forth and up and down with my emotions and my ability to cope. I grieve one thing and I think I'm fine, but then another wave comes. But what I'm coming to depend on with my whole self is that this life isn't the whole picture. My dad is saved and will soon be whole again, guitar in hand at the throne of Jesus - that is the promise of his salvation, and my hope as I go forward from here. 

Aiming high isn't just for driving - it's for living. I need to keep my eyes on what is ahead so that I can have an understanding of the things that happen in my life, good and bad.  Hebrews 12:1-3 says this:

Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles. And let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us, fixing our eyes on Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of faith. For the joy set before him he endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God. Consider him who endured such opposition from sinners, so that you will not grow weary and lose heart.

Why did Christ endure the cross? Because he was aiming high. So during this time of suffering and sadness, so will I. I will grieve, and the tears will continue to come...but I will not despair in these circumstances because I know that my Redeemer lives and is preparing a place for my dad, and for me. 

coming to terms

It's been a long, long time since I've written anything....Or at least finished writing anything. It's been a busy few years having young kids, and despite all of the thoughts in my head I've been at a loss for the time to write them down. I'm going to give it another try...No promises!

When I was about seven or eight my grandparents took my cousin Micah and I to the beach, and we took a walk early one morning. We had been walking for a little while, when my grandparents yelled from up ahead for us to look out into the shallow waves. Rolling in was a big seashell...like the ones you'd find in a seaside shop, shiny and pink inside. Micah ran out and grabbed it, and we all admired how huge and perfect it was. We walked on, and a few minutes later another shell came rolling in, and I ran out and grabbed that one. It was just as big and flawless as the first, and I was so happy that I had found one too. We were in awe of our luck!

Some time later my grandparents told Micah and I the real story. As we walked along the beach that day, they had been hiding those two shells in a beach bag. They threw them out into the surf for us to find, and let us believe that they we had found them ourselves. I'm sure that people walking by saw the whole thing, and smiled at our innocence and excitement. We would never have known the truth had they not told us later on, and I thought it was an even sweeter story after I knew the truth behind it. I don't know where that shell is now...I wish I had it still, as a reminder of how much my grandparents love us and desire for us the joy of a good find.

I think that God throws us a lot of shells - beauties that are all shined up for us. But more often I think He throws us things that we pick up and would love to throw back into the ocean. Those ugly, broken, barnacle covered shells are the ones that come crashing onto our shores. I don't necessarily think that those ugly things will ever be pretty. All the polishing in the world won't make abuse, loss, sickness, fear, abandonment, failure, or brokenness beautiful or desirable. But we can allow God to give those things purpose, and we can allow Him to change our hearts through the tough stuff. I also believe, at least in my own life, that the times when we are the most broken are the times when our God shows us most clearly who He really is. He is the God who sees us, He is our peace, He is our righteousness, He is our provider, He is there...He is the great I AM.

This past year has been one of indescribable loss and overwhelming change for me. I am struggling to allow Him to give it purpose, and so I write all of this as a reminder to myself of what I know He can do - of what He has done so many times before. Although it isn't my first choice to experience pain and loss, I know that God can turn it into a symbol of His victory and presence in my life. Every minute I need Him, for all that He is, and in the end I hope that what I do with the ugliness of life will glorify Him and bring others to Him.

Empty

Some more blog entries I found in draft...

6.29.09

I was on my way to work the other day and a thought occurred to me...I had been thinking about events of the week before, events of this past year in my own life, and events that I can foresee in the not-so-distant future...And I came to the conclusion that I am in a season (yes, Sara, a season) of emptying.

I have been discouraged at so many things...At myself, for not being a better person, a better wife, a better mom, and better friend of God...And discouraged, maybe even angry at those around me, for similar reasons. I've been so focused for so long on myself that here I am, a bit lonely, and I know it's mostly my own fault that I haven't made myself a part of anyone else's heart.

I've been noticing that things and people are being taken away. This week my mother's mom passed away, and it has caused my to consider that time is surely passing quickly and generations are making their way through this life and into eternity. I was a young girl when my grandfather passed away, but I'm grown now and my parents are that much older. I am especially close with my father's parents, and I can cry on a dime if I think of the loss of those I adore and admire so deeply.

I've been put through trials that are, in essence, a test of trust, a test of faith, a test of endurance...Each day is a test of whether or not I trust the Lord with what is precious to me. When I think I've come to terms with "letting go", another storm comes and I am swept under again, realizing yet again that I trust God very little with those He has entrusted to me for a time.

So I asked the Lord "why" this all is, all at the same time, all overwhelming...And I believe that this is an emptying - that is the difficult reality. If I take the woman I am, and I take away my control (which is only perceived), my freedom (which is easily revoked), my will, my "self"...And I am refilled with love that is not my own, freedom that can't be taken away, peace beyond all understanding...Who then will I be?

9.14.09

This past month, or maybe year...well, whatever...as of late so many things have changed, and i am not one who likes change much. i've had some thoughts, lots of them actually, these past months and have written nothing down, maybe because i'm lazy, but more likely because i didn't want to sit and really impress upon myself the gravity of things.

last week hannah went to school...public school...for the first time. i am at peace with the decision, but the change is extreme. she goes off to someone else every morning, and i guess it gives me some rest and time to be with naomi alone, but mostly i just miss her. i'm glad to hear her stories when she comes home, happy to hear she's doing well...but in my heart i ache a bit because i enjoy her presence and i can't have it.

then yesterday our neighbors, who we adore, told us they may be moving. now, as an adult i can handle it...but all hannah can think about right now is the fact that her bike-riding buddy won't be here anymore. last night she started grieving that loss, even before they've moved...she considered in her mind what it will be like without her friend two doors down, and she could barely stand it. and so she cried...hard. it was all i could do not to cry hard along with her...i, too, have had friends who moved from me recently. not geographically, but their season in my life is passed and i've had to let go. i was talking to warren last night, just wondering if we all might be better off if we grieved like children do...they anticipate the reality of things, and they begin to grieve - not secretly or when everyone is asleep, but right out in the open, so that they can be carried through it all by the ones they love and trust. and kids are so honest...i asked hannah if she believes that God will bring her another friend, and she said she didn't know. in honesty, i think sometimes we say we have faith when we have none, and perhaps we'd be better encouraged by others if we just told the truth...sometimes we just don't know what God will do.

and personally, adding to my list of changes, i am in a state of being broken...and i'm having a hard time. i see my stubbornness, my waywardness, and my resistance, and i still fight and fight as though i can win. yesterday i prayed (perhaps this wasn't a good idea...) that God will continue to break me. i am in need of it, even though it is painful...i have so much to let go of, and so much fear that nothing will be taken care of if i don't have my hand in it. but such is this process of learning and growing, that another season of letting go has come into my life.

5.3.11

I can't really say whether or not this season of mine is over even now. I feel as though I am being filled again, and as though the storms have passed at least for now. But I'm thankful to see that I've been brought through a time of barrenness. At the time I think it just felt dark and alone, but now I can see the good that has come out of it, and I can see how I have been changed by it. Funny how so much of my struggle is with letting go of control, and how just yesterday I was talking about our wills and the kids and all of that...It's like the trials were all leading to this. Coincidence, perhaps, but I doubt it.

thoughts on a monday night...

Warren and I are going to California. And up until today I have been scared out of my wits.

I am petrified of airplanes, and even more than that, after the birth of Jude I became increasingly aware of our responsibility as parents, to make good choices and to stay safe - and preferably alive - for our kids. At work I have become more and more conscious of my humanity, my equality with those that I care for. I am the same as them...One day they may have been fine, and the next they needed a whole new heart, or at least help with the one they already had. Today I am fine...But five minutes from now I may not be.

For a while I didn't even think I could go anywhere - I didn't want to risk it. I have cried...a lot...just in fear, and in uncertainty about the future if something awful were to happen to us. I have spent some time with each of the kids as they were sleeping, just thinking about things and hoping that I love them enough every day for them to remember it. Every day I have thanked the Lord for the day that has passed, and prayed for one more if He sees fit.

I told my husband that before we set foot inside the death-trap airplane, we must have our wills finished. I didn't want to leave things to be decided by our families (or God forbid by our government). So we've been thinking and praying over our wishes. I've had to surrender each of my babies to the Lord, over and over in my heart, because no matter what we choose, it really comes down to believing that God will take care of them. God will take care of them even though our oldest will be separated from our other two...God will take care of them even though someone else will be parenting them all...God will take care of them because He loves them more than I do.

Can you believe that? It's so hard for me to think about someone loving them more than I do. I was talking to Warren the other night about parenthood, and about how you have these little people that you'd throw yourself in front of a bus for. Without a second thought. But my God loves them even MORE than that, and I believe that He will take care of them even if I cannot be there with them.

Maybe this is a little bit deep for a Monday evening, but it's where I have been for quite a while now. I think it has made my life deeper, more rich and full than it has ever been. I have peace about things, finally, not because I have control of the variables but because I know who does. And I do believe that the ones I hold closest to my heart are held even closer to God's - and in that I can rest.