It's Been a Good Year

The last year of my life has been anything but idyllic to say the least, but in hindsight, neither has it been so terrible. I say this with tongue in cheek, knowing those of you who read this will probably slap your foreheads in frustration. Let me qualify by saying, everything looks better in a rear view mirror, but still, for what I have learned, it was.... worth it.

For years I was a loud and proud proponent of authenticity. Be authentic! I would yell from my pulpit. Get to know yourselves! I shouted in a touch of pride. It's easy to say when life is fun and tribulation is far. When there is no need for God, it is easy to tell someone to find Him.

In all of His graciousness though, he didn't allow me to stay there. He knew I wanted to love Him out of desire and truth, not 'shoulds' and angst.

It's frustrating isn't it? We journey our whole lives in seeking the safe covering of denial, pulling the corners down around us, stretching it to make sure nothing peaks out. Then He comes along and shatters the glass wall that has kept all we don't want to think about, or remember, or see, at bay and every fear, doubt, anger, memory, wound, sin, arrogant attitude, hateful word, jealous moment, insecure days and shameful acts come tumbling out in a deluge we can't stop. The corners of denial start fraying and tearing under the strain and eventually it can no longer cover what we don't want seen. Casually, He walks by and snaps the final strap and we watch the wind whip it away finding suddenly we are suddenly exposed. The illusion is over.

Some are able to hold on as long as they can, refusing to admit to the purposed humbling, and some are unable to stand under it. Some pull themselves up by their bootstraps refusing help, thus prolonging the inevitable need for another wall to be shattered later, after they return to the safety of another glass wall. Some become victims, perpetually replaying every fear and tear, hoping it will earn them a moment of grace based on victim manipulation and some fold like a house of cards, falling into a pile of emotions waiting to be rescued.

I'm not sure which is the best answer, I know God works with them all, but I was definitely a mix of the two last categories. I broke. I guess I knew deep down, I was meant to break. So I watched helplessly as He came and broke every bone. As though it was without anesthesia, I watched as He came and poked every wound, prodded every insecurity and proved out my greatest fears. He aired out all my arrogance, my pride and made me face the shame of it existing. He turned me to face every hidden doubt I never wanted to admit to, every fearful thought of mine and His weakness. He blew the top off my weak faith and shattered it along with my heart.

I was so angry. I had no idea how angry. It had all been seething there for years, nurtured by arrogance and self-righteousness. When I no longer had those to protect me, the rage and bitterness had nothing to stop it from rising to the surface, my glass wall had shattered. As the anger melted, the insecurity came raging to the surface, popping up in new and creative ways. My usual way of handling it was gone. There was no one to comfort me, no love to bandage an infected heart. I couldn't be rescued. My facade had been ripped off, I was exposed. I wasn't the strong, faithful woman I thought I was. I was an adolescent child in an overgrown woman's body. My denial had been doing me no good.

All the props I had been using were no good anymore. The relationships that made me feel accepted were gone, the sanctuary I could hide in was stripped and the faith I had was proved to be anemic and false, only there to give me comfort, rather than an avenue to really relate to a mysterious God. I was, as David so aptly put it, a wasteland.

There had been too much death in me. Too much denial of the death and too many props keeping me looking alive. How could I relate to a living, dynamic God while working so hard to keep everyone, even myself, from seeing what was really going on in my heart. I needed Him to come reveal it. He knew I needed a beautiful rescue.

I guess that's the catch though. We never can see what He already knows. He had already walked the path with me, but I couldn't know that. He couldn't even let me see that. If I had, somehow, it would have been another prop. It would have been another way to keep sustaining a weak faith that was built on my efforts rather than His. Everything had to go. So He turned off the lights and threw me down a long and deep well, breaking every bone along the way. Oh how I hated Him. Oh how angry I was. And He knew. He knew how ugly it would get, but never once did He stop. Never once did my rage, my doubt or my fear stop Him. He kept coming and kept coming and wouldn't rest. He wouldn't let me rest. It was hit after hit after hit. Loss after loss, greatest fear realized after greatest fear realized. He broke everything and left nothing behind in His destruction. It reminded me of how the Israelites would completely destroy a city when they had won.

I couldn't understand, why would He let me fall like that? Why would He let me question? He used my A personality as the tool in His hand. I got angry, I wanted answers and if He was as good and big as He said He was, then He should be able to provide them. He set me up beautifully. Ah, the wisdom. I guess it doesn't surprise that the one Who created me would know the best way to use me against myself. Sneaky.

He never gave up on me. He could see what I couldn't; that He really was bigger and better and I was really, a lot stronger than I thought. He took what He had given me innately from birth, those character traits I had used for my own selfish gain, and turned them into His tools of trade to destroy me, then He handed them back to me, ready for me to use now for His purposes. My fight, my energy, my passion, my black and white mentality, my emotionalism, my need for truth, they became those perfect instruments for Him to turn against me. I got angry, ashamed, but I fought. I fought against Him, against myself, against anyone that challenged me. I wanted and needed to know, to understand. I never really did, but I wanted to. Only now, after the battle is over, after the dust has settled, after I have already surrendered am I getting a faint glimpse.

But He knew all of that. He knew I would want to understand, but that He couldn't tell me. He knew I would rage and scream and cry and sob and He knew He couldn't rescue me in the way I wanted. He knew He had to actively wound me in His infinite wisdom. I wonder how hard that must have been for Him, watching me cry out and not be able to come rescue me yet. Sometimes I feel His own pain over it. The Father watching His Son die, the Father watching His daughter die, knowing He could take them off their prospective cross', but knowing also, He would be doing neither any justice. And as I wrote my fears and struggles, as I spoke about my pain and doubts, I am humbled by His decision to let me air my grievances, risking His reputation for my soul. He had no fear I would not eventually see Him and His ways. He had no concerns I would "lose my faith" or "walk away." His love, His belief in me was consistent, unshakable and profound. Somewhere deep in me, I knew that. I knew He was the wall I was running into, as blind as I was, it was Him I was learning to bend to. His love was so passionate and true, so unguarded by selfish desires, it let me have all the freedom in the world to choose. It gave me protected space to let the Niagara Falls of pain and anger and selfishness come forth until only a drip remained.

See His desire has been the same from the beginning of time: relationship. That cannot happen between Him and I when I am more worried about holding it all together, or creating an image, or keeping myself from feeling insecure, left out, rejected or abandoned. I've spent a lifetime focusing in how to avoid those things only to either make them happen, or to find, focusing on them will only breed the insecurity, not heal it. I was broken long before He broke me, He just pointed it out in beautiful irony. He held the mirror up forcing me to finally admit I had already was, what I feared most. I was alone, and I was abandoned and I was rejected and for good reason.

In those moments, when I was face to face with all that I had been running from, when everything around me seemed to be mocking and pointing out the very wounds and fears I had been trying to hard to protect myself against, that's when His love became real. No one ever wants to be left because of their defects, it's what we all fear most, and yet here I was, facing that very reality. I had been rejected for the very reasons I was most afraid of being rejected. He created a circumstance where my worst fears blossomed into full blown reality and there was no getting around it. He was brutal and efficient in His breaking of me.

I was what I was, and He was still standing there waiting for me to realize none of it mattered, since He was with me. "Let everyone leave you," He seemed to say, "Let everyone see how arrogant and selfish you are. I already know, and I am here. I see more than everyone and I am pressing in, running towards you, fighting for you asking you to not care what they say, what even you are, and to let me love you. Let ME be all that you and everyone else can't be. Let ME love you to perfection. Let ME build your life around that which is permanent and good and real and hopeful and beautiful and blessed and lovely. Let me build it around us."

That's when the doubts started to become shallow arguments and excuses. That's when the anger started to subside and I stopped being a victim and instead, owned up to a mess I had created. That's the funny thing about desperation, it isn't always so desperate. Sometimes its fairly simple. When I could no longer make the image work, or hold up my own faith, or prop up justifications for actions and emotions, when all the arguments were exhausted and I couldn't convince anyone or anything that "it shouldn't be this way" but it just was, that's when my faith moved from something I read in a book, to watching Jesus change my life.

I don't know what happened, I don't know how it happened, I don't know where it happened, I just know it did. The pieces started falling into place and as I look back, I realize, He had always been in control. It was never about losing someone, or something, it was never about "fighting a good fight." It wasn't even about how bad things were and how sometimes bad things happen to good people. None of that mattered. What mattered was, it was all about Him and me. It was always, from beginning to end, totally and completely, only about Him and I. Losing friends and lovers and families breaking up, dogs dying and homes moved away from, those are terrible things to go through, but none of it was ever about one thing. It was never all my fault, or someone else's wrong, it was never about forging ahead onto some unknown path and staking out my individuality. No, it was nothing so dramatic and cinematic. Simply, it was about Jesus and the Father and the Holy Spirit doing some serious house cleaning. It was about asking me to love Him for Him and never because He blesses me. It was about asking me if I believed because I knew, or because I was told to. It was about helping a little girl with a little faith get on the path of becoming a grown woman with a lot of heart. It was about finding out how small but strong I really am, and how precious and loved while being so ugly and childish. I don't get everything I want, and mostly because I shouldn't. I don't deserve to be loved, but it sure does make me smile when I am. I am not worthy of much, but I was chosen for a lot. I am capable of creating much pain and destruction, but also on a journey of learning real empathy and sacrifice. I am oh so human, but an inheritor of so much supernatural blessing.

It will never stop, this up and down, merry-go-round life. Bad things will happen... and so will good. But none of that is the point. Wounds are inevitable, some purposed by Him, some just the collateral damage of this world, but all of it is intentioned, purposed and used by Him. The ups and downs will happen, but He remains the same. The hope is, eventually the motion, the carousel of emotions, will become less and less powerful in the face of His crushing presence and peace. The hope is, patience will outweigh turmoil as I wait for Him to redeem over and over. Every death, wound, evil in me, or in the world is just another opportunity for Him to prove His love, His ability to save and His desire to bring me closer. All the bad will become just as easily tools in His hand as blessing, in acting out His wisdom and love.

I will admit, this is a hard place to live. I get distracted by fears, hurts, words of others and TV; not to mention IPads and phones and even more so, Facebook. I know I will never stop needing Him to break me over and over again, but I am starting to fear it less. I am starting to trust Him with every future event, need and desire of my heart. If He can melt my heart of stone, nothing is impossible for Him. If He can take was what the worst year of my life and make me thankful for it, that is a sort of miracle that ranks with the parting of the Red Sea.... well at least to me it is. But I guess that's the miracle I was waiting for all along, one that couldn't be rusted by time, stolen by thieves, or eaten away at by others. It is the miracle that only Him and I know and that makes it all the more sweet. It makes it all the more real.

I will always walk with a limp, or have the thorn in my side, or have the memory of the cock crowing at midnight. I flinch when I don't get a call back right away from the man I love, or when a girlfriend says she can't hang out. I over analyze and under trust, I have mini-panic attacks over made up conversations and imagined slights. I worry about getting fat and when I get in an argument with someone, especially those I love, I want to apologize over and over, still insecure about whether or not they will want to see me again. Those are the evidences of being human, wounded and battling insecurity. Those are the scars that remind me start everyday in the presence of the One that loved me unconditionally. Those are the reminders that I will have to learn to trust again, and while I do, patience and grace will be needed. They are also wonderful places to learn again the freedom I have, the peace He has for me, and the beauty He has provided through the people that surround me now. It's slow and steady work, with much stumbling along the way, but I know without compromise, that He is with me every step. I know without a shadow of a doubt how purposed my life is, how big and wonderful He is and how His grace will cover everything. He holds my hand as I step out to love others with a different heart, one that has been marked and scarred, tattered and torn, and healed with skilled fingers and true love. At once I am less confident, but more sure of who I am and I know deep in my heart, He has already gone before me into the next phase, creating a wise path that will only lead to more of Him and that makes everything worth it all.

Let Your Gentleness Be Known

As usual, I have been doing a lot of thinking lately, but this time, it has been different. Something happened when I went to DC and came back. I wish I could explain it, but I can't. I heard it once said that the best way to get over a fear, is to experience that very fear. As if facing it, then coming back, or surviving, or even getting better, takes away that fear.

As I look back on the last few years of my life, the worst possible things have come true, and yet, not only have I survived, I have thrived. Though it didn't feel like it, I did. My relationship with the Lord grew, my respect for myself grew and my awareness of love, grace and humility tripled. I guess failing with blinding clarity will do that. I guess at some point, all you can do is look back and almost laugh. It is almost laughable. I mean seriously? I hate hearing people say what ever doesn't kill you will make you stronger. I think it's so trite, but now, looking back, I realize it did kill me and I'm glad it did.

I lost friends, lovers, jobs, respect, personal items, was cheated, made a fool, torn apart, made bad decisions, made good decisions, doubted, raged, loved, cried, and done it all with an almost manic flair. And all of it, all of it circled back around to one thing: no matter what, the God that rules the earth is my Savior. He loves me, thinks I am worth the world and is in no way shape or form worried about loving me.

As my heart has started to calm, as my thoughts have started to gather, as peace has started to settle deep within, bringing a more than superficial smile back to my tired face, I realize the very fears I battle with, no longer seem to have the same power they once did. The deep anxiety I had been holding somewhere between my stomach and chest is loosening. The mix of living in unpredictability is losing some of it's overwhelming unrest. There is so much I can't control, but so much I can. And maybe that is the real lesson. I don't have control over what happens, but I do have control over who I want to be, who I am and to whom I belong.

Maybe it's the trick of commitment. When I was in DC, for as brief a moment is was, I was blinded by how no geography was going to make everything okay. There was no place I was going to run that was going to solve my problems. I take with me all that makes me, me, where ever I am. The way I make decisions, the way I live, that doesn't change based on a different time zone. I wasn't going to find peace hiding in a different corner of the world. That, I was going to have to find in some corner of me. That was more intimidating than anything. It wasn't going to come from easy outside source. I was going to have to stop, turn around and face the hardest part of living: standing still. When I did that, I realized, even though I grew up somewhere, that doesn't mean I have to leave it to find what I want. I was going to have dig my heels in, put some roots down and fight for the life I want. I was going to have start making the decisions that effect tomorrow, today.

So I came home. And if you haven't noticed, when I make a decision, it's full guns blazing. I came home with a three-point plan and I was damn well going to put it into play. I was going to MAKE it happen and it was going to happen RIGHT NOW. I guess it doesn't take long to realize, not everything happens overnight. Sometimes the very things we want are the very things that take the qualities I struggle with: patience, quiet, lack of control and freedom. There is only so much I can do. Some things just take time.

So I find myself in the very place I have spent a lifetime avoiding: the in between. I'm waiting for everything. I'm waiting to hear about jobs, I'm waiting to start the community I want, I'm waiting for the opportunity to move forward in the right way. I'm waiting to see what is going to happen in so many ways, knowing in my heart, God has me right where He wants me. And in these moments of waiting, the miracle is in knowing He will provide everything necessary to live life the exact way He has called me to: joyfully and peacefully. Just because I'm waiting, doesn't mean I can't enjoy the ride. Miracles don't always look like circumstances changing, sometimes the miracle is in knowing joy is now a possibility. That's what His death and resurrection did. It made Joy and Peace an option and to me, in this place, that is a true miracle.

There are very few things I can control, but what I can control becomes the most important things. I have the ability to make my own choices. Aware of the risks, the pain that comes with the inevitability of life, knowing things will be hard, those choices are mine and how I conduct myself in them is the most important part. In Phil. 4:4-7, one of my favorite part is where it says "Rejoice in the Lord always.... Let your gentleness be known... the Lord is near.... Be anxious for nothing.... and the peace of God will guard your hearts..."

We pass over that part so easily. "Let your gentleness be known... the Lord is near" It struck me. What a vulnerable statement. What a promise. In the face of insecurity, I can let my gentleness be known and KNOW the Lord is near. I can stay exposed to the harshness of reality, remaining soft and open, being confident in the presence, the knowledge of God. He is near and He tells me to request of Him and His peace will guard the very gentle heart He says to let be known.

Whatever decisions I make, when I make them in confidence, when I make them in peace, when I know who I am and I let that be known, when I let my gentleness in peace be known, I can request of the Lord and know full well He is near, and will guard me. His peace will guard me.

I think about that a lot when I think of loving someone. How often do we seek to gain control over another to ensure their love? I know it's something I have struggled with. After failing about a million times, and it costing me dearly, I am beginning to see how this is meant to play out. I can control no one, but I know I can control me. I can decide to love someone, be it friend, relative, stranger or lover and feel the anxiety that comes with becoming vulnerable, allow that to be seen, then go to the Lord and ask for His peace to guard me... and it does. My heart and it's desires are far more important to Him than they are to me. His death and resurrection are proof of that, so why would He withhold His joy and peace from me as I seek to love the way He has told me? Insecurity starts to lose it's power when I look at life from this perspective. If I choose to do something, be it love, moving, or just doing my hair in a crazy way, when I do it in gentleness, in peace, in confidence, nothing else matters. He will guard my heart and I can stop worrying. Even when that love is rejected, or the move is hard, or the hair falls flat, there is no shame in who I am, what I am, and Who's I am. There is no regret in that. There is no fear in that. I have already lost greatly and survived, I am beginning to learn how to love in the face of fear, live in the face of failure and stand still in the midst of anxiety. So if those things are possible, what is there really to worry about? And if I can still be relaxing two weeks after the initial revelation, then the miracle of His resurrection is proved ever more.

I guess Frankie was right.

"Failed Drama"

All week I have struggled to put into words what I learned in two weeks of insanity. Actually, more like a year of insanity, but who's counting?

The best way I have come up with is: sometimes it's a long journey home. Sometimes we have to leave where we are, to know staying was always the right decision. Sometimes veering off the path is purposed to remind us, we were always heading in the right direction and sometimes making the wrong decision is the only way to find what the right one is.

In my mind, there was this dramatic moment happening. I was awakening again to a sense of purpose. Picture it, the wind picks up and swirls my hair as I look into the horizon, determination written on my face. I'm grimy and sweating, but somehow it looks dignified, as it only can in the movies. I take a step forward, look over the edge of the cliff, the deep chasm that spreads between myself and the endless possibilities. The music starts melancholy and foreboding. Worry creases my face while I hesitate, but only for a moment. The wind continues to whip by me as I walk away from the edge, then turn and face it. The music swells and builds with the intensity of the moment. Suddenly I let out a battle cry and starting running full speed knowing I can reach that other side. I fling myself off at the last second, the orchestra in full crescendo. I disappear for a moment and immediately a hush falls. The seconds tick by as the picture stays quiet, only the sound of the wind still moving.

Then, as if a miracle, my hand shoots up! The music peaks at a gloriously victorious note, while continue to struggle and climb up on the other side. "I made it! I made it! I did it!" My smile is wider than the heavens as I break into a moment of pure joy. Then, out of no where, I hear the odd squawk of a bullhorn being used: "Uh, Sara?" What the... I hear a slightly apologetic, yet, embarrassed voice calling my name through the horn.

"Yeah, hey, Sara? You jumped the wrong divide. We're... uh, We're over here. On this side." I turn and look over my shoulder while still on the ground. I see three men standing on cliff with a different horizon. "Oh crrraaaap. Not again."

"Yep. Looks like it. You made the 'leap' again, it was just once again, in the wrong direction. Hey good news though! This time it will only cost you two weeks and around $1,000.00." says the gentlemen wielding the bullhorn. He turns to His companions, "You're definitely learning! Right guys?" A mumble chorus of "Oh yeah's!" and "For sure's!" follow. "Don't worry though, We'll get you right back on track. Okay people, that's a wrap for today! Scene Sara Angella 'Failed drama' will pick back up tomorrow. Good work today everyone, especially the guys on the wind! That was great effect. We'll try that again. Have a great night all!"

Somewhere in the spiritual realm, they are spinning the spools of film that show my most recent epic failure. I laugh as I imagine them saying something like, "She's got a flare for drama for sure. She got that from You HS. Maybe next time we should try and warn her. No, you're right, she still probably wouldn't listen. But sure is entertaining watching her get all wound up like that."

In my mind, everything is drama, in the real world, it's usually just the perfect risk, for the wrong thing. Taking a leap is never wrong, even if it ends badly, if only because, we learned that landing, isn't always so bad.

Nothing is EVER as it seems.

Thanks for the effort guys.

Capital Dome

Friends, acquaintances, readers, family, lovers, whoever you are, I can't wait for you to be apart of what has occurred in my life.

For months, I have spiraled, suffered, fretted, spent hours drowning in my own makeshift craft of sadness, waiting, pleading, begging God to do something. I ranted, raved, pounded, cried, did everything I could, then gave up. I doubted, I raged, I questioned, mourned and worried about everything and anything I could, especially the Lord. And faithful ones, you waited with me. You read, cried, argued and struggled with me. Whether it was through word, comment or presence, you were apart of a journey and though it has not ended, the newest chapter has been revealed and I could not leave you out of my joy.

That's right, my joy.

I walked back to a friends house tonight, listening to worship music, fairly walking on air, smiling from ear to ear, laughing at the wind, smiling and giggling like the school girls I passed. I was drunk on joy and hope in a way I hadn't felt in years. I cried, and for the first time in so long, it was out of joy.

How can I explain in a few short paragraphs (although I am NEVER short in word), what God has done? How can I explain a miracle? I guess I'll try. As I write this, I laugh and cry once as I hear the words to my favorite song play over and over: All my hopes in You. My strength, my song... over and over it plays just like that. Perfect. Perfect.

I stood in front of the Capital tonight, cherry blossoms intoxicating, the humid air clinging to my hair, frizzing it to no end. My feet hurt from the walking and my coat was itchy around my neck, a slight perspiration from the humidity forming around my neck. No one was around me, most were in Chinatown, Adams Morgan, Downtown, Cap Hill or H Street, passing the night in bars and clubs, seen and being seen. I, however, had been pulled like a magnet toward the most powerful place in the world. I stared, mesmerized by the splendor of the dome, lit up like a Christmas tree in the middle of the dead of night. Taller than any other building around it, it stands stark against the night sky, as though it knows the secrets it keeps, flaunting the power, the prestige. I felt the power, the magnitude of the fame and fortune that walked in and out of the steps at any given point. The history, the presence and the gleeful inspiration tugged at my heart seducing my thoughts into a moment of delightful inspiration, wondering what I could do, knowing, if I truly wanted them, I could hold the keys to the kingdom. Not in arrogance, but purely in awareness, there is a part of me that knows, it knows that if I wanted to, I could harness the talents, the knowledge and the good ol' fashion legwork and I could climb, scrape and scratch my way to the top. I could smile, wink, shrug and charm my way into the highest of heights. Thoughts swirl and sway me, as though I have been in the desert for 40 days and bread is being offered, I am tempted to eat and be satisfied, to partake and engineer, to structure, plan and manipulate whatever is necessary. The light of the dome seems so powerful against such a black backdrop and I could be apart of it... And it's tempting....

But then I wake up. Something shakes me from my reverie and I look around me. The fountain's noise brings me back to a solid reality. I look to my left and I see the bend that would lead to 2nd and G. Ebenezer's. It's the home of National Community Church. A beautiful place, full of beautiful people, seeing God's beautiful miracles. When I was lost, hurting, scared and restless, I sought something of truth and found it there. It was a home away from home. It is full of the peace of the Holy Spirit and I just I felt the provocative sense of power, I felt an equally powerful sense of peace, place and joy there. I felt Him there and all of the sudden I knew. I knew what had been forming in me for years, months, and now had come to a climactic end in a few weeks.

I loved the purpose of being apart of something bigger than me, but I hated the politics. I loved feeling as though what I was doing was meaningful, but I hated feeling as though it meant nothing in the end. I loved feeling as though I was making a difference, but I didn't like what the difference was.

My heart is full, my spirit hopeful, my life peaceful when I stop searching and start living, not in any kingdom, but in His Kingdom. I can't always explain it, but what I seek, the passion I have, it never means anything unless it is spinning, surging, pushing and aspiring within the only framework that matters: His.

I love excitement. I love thinking, I love being, driving, pushing, starting, searching, hoping, working, creating, encouraging, desiring and loving, but only when it matters for the things that matter and to me, what matters is Jesus. I sat staring at the building that houses some of the most powerful people in the world and all I could think about was taking what I seen and learned back to a little church with little people, with big vision. No Congressman, Senator, President or Speaker could touch the power of a God that could take me from despair to excitement in the space of 13 days. They could pass laws, enact treaties, decide on a budget, but what really shakes my world is a God that can meet me anywhere anytime and change my mind. You can change my taxes, but you can't change my heart. Only a truly powerful God can do that. Screw your earmarks, I want miracles. No turning back, I've made up my mind, I'm giving all of my life this time.

But it all had to be put to rest. I had to come back here. I had to face this place, this time in my life, I had to have everything redefined. This demon had to be slayed. I had to know I had made a decision and it was good. I needed to own it. I needed to say goodbye. Unfinished business does not sit well with me. It never has and it never will. Luckily, I serve a God that leaves nothing unfinished, no question unanswered.

I loved DC. It awaked me. It gave me vision, it gave me the ability to believe in more than just a simple life, what I didn't know until now is those things follow me. No life is simple unless we simplify it. No vision has to be small unless we narrow it. I go back to CA not to a simple quiet life, but instead to an excitement of what God wants to do. I go with the same feeling, watching an ink black sky frame a dome, as I do when I walk into the warehouse that holds my church family. The power of God, the blessings of His miracles, they know no geographical boundaries, they are only bound by what we contain them in.

So I ran the opposite direction. Or maybe I skipped, I can't remember, but I can remember worshipping, smiling, laughing and crying with joy as I felt the inspiration, the peace, the excitement.... the hope. I was set free. The past was the past. As good and bad as it has been, it has shaped, formed and scarred me as purposed. I take with me the crazy desire for the horizon He first placed in me when I arrived here back to CA. It just settled into a rock solid purpose. It hardened and gelled without me realizing into wanting to see the power of God come to my home, my valley, my church. My stubbornness now has a place it can grow, express and formulate itself and I am so excited.

I get all the vision of DC without the politics. And for once, the old Sara, the real Sara, the true one, the one I know and love is coming back out. The passion, the joy, the confidence, it was all there, it was just being shaped, ripped and reformed. Now it knows where it belongs. Now I have the confidence in my decision, my place. Now I can root, place, settle and grow. I had been so restless for so long, wondering where I belonged and finally, with a peace that surpasses understanding, I am ready. I am more than ready to go and capture the vision Jesus has for home.

Praise You! You crazy, ruthless, brilliant, insatiable, creative, loving, hopefully practical Jesus!!!! How good you are to this arrogant, hopeless mess. My heart is bent to Your powerful love and care. You have broken me to heal me, You have rendered me to restore me and You have scarred me to remind me. I carry You in my heart, Lover. You are my reason, my life, my peace and comfort. I dedicate me to You in the craziness of it all. In awareness of how illogical this all is, You are my logic, where I finally have found the place where I belong: in You. Let's go home. I love You.

Frankie Says "Relax"

I need to relax. No, seriously, I need to relax. I need to learn how to let go. Why does everything with me need to be so damn HUGE all of the time? When did I forget to stop and just not care?

Don't get me wrong, I'm all about being "aware' but I think somewhere along the way, I mixed up being aware with being obsessed. When did I stop being fun-loving Sara and start being high strung Sara, and why? Wait a minute, wait a minute... see, it's seductive, that over-analysis. I almost did it again.

I'm going to turn my A-Personality type into a B personality type by using all the energy and drive of the A personality to learn how to freakin chill. That's right, I'm going to mind-eff myself. It's going to be the catch-22 of a lifetime. Over the last few years, somehow every little thing has starting to mean everything. Every decision, every move, everyone else's decisions, everyone else's moves; there was always some hidden meaning or agenda. It could never just be because. I stopped being able to go get beers to just chill and not have to say anything, or when I do talk to people, not talk about something serious all the time. I have completely forgotten how to have a conversation that didn't have to do with something deep and meaningful. I've over inundated myself with analysis and second guessing to the point where I can barely move. I'm basically no fun at all. I feel bad for those I have subjected myself to. You are faithful friends.

See this is why I can never work in politics. Because in politics, there actually ARE hidden meanings in everything.

I have no balance, no compass for when things should be serious and when they should be just fun. I have a very limited ability to "shelf" things and just ride it out. Which is ironic, since when I left my ex husband, I did that exceedingly well for 6 months. And then again when I was living at home after I moved back from So Cal. What happened? Oh well, I guess that question is sort of pointless.

I've been so obsessed with my own ability to be "deep" or "authentic" I let arrogance cloud the fact that I was hamstringing my own life. There is no point to being deep if you can not enjoy your life. Then you become some obscure French philosopher that dies of an overdose of heroine. If I can't put aside the stressors, the difficulties and enjoy the moments I have, if I am always second guessing, stressing and fretting over the next step, the next moment, the next heartbreak, I'm going to sabotage the ability for me to enjoy now.

It's not easy though, I feel the anxiety build even as I say this. I used to be able to let go and know things would turn out, now I fear every what if. I do wonder though, if only to escape back into old habit patterns for a moment, am I really fearful because of the pain, or am I fearful I won't be able to handle it? Am I fearful of the messages the awful situations I am avoiding send me and others?

Case in point: moving home. I know, I know, we've been over this. Hear me out though. Am I really scared of the reality of going home and having to resort to something like waitressing, or bartending, or going back into retail because they really are that bad? Or am i just afraid that I've failed somehow? Or worse yet, that others will see me as a failure?

The point is, if I'm okay with something, if I'm not worried about me or my ability to live, keep moving and keep trying, then what am I really afraid of? What is it the most that drives me to have to justify every thought, understand everyone else, or even care? So what? If I know who I am, and am comfortable with that, what else matters?

In Micah it says, "What does God require of man but to act kindly, do justice and walk humbly with your God?" That's a pretty simple formula. What else matters? Love your God, love others, let the rest worry about the rest. So what if someone doesn't want to be friends or a lover leaves? I mean I know those things hurt, but are they really about me, or are they really just the circumstances of life colliding with unneeded insecurity? Does every thing have to really mean everything? If things don't work out at home, if my ex never wants to talk to me again... again, if my friends all desert me, if I end up poor and on the streets, if I gain back every pound and become a fat cat lady... okay that's really depressing... point being, if everything turns out to the absolute worst it could... so what? My life would still have all the value in the world, my home in heaven would still be there waiting, my cloud of witnesses would still be cheering on and the cross would still be complete. And besides all of that, which is amazing enough, whatever stays the same? So what if it all happens? Is it doomed to stay that way? Or since everything has the chance to change for the worse, doesn't it also have the chance to change for the better?

Maybe the important thing isn't what happens; it's that I don't fear what could happen. Maybe it's about not worrying so much, and living more. Maybe it's about taking the time to enjoy what I do have. I may not be miss popularity, but I have some friends that I know are solid, beautiful, encouraging people I would give my left arm for. I may not have the leave it to Beaver family, but I do have a mother who adores me, a father who still calls me his little girl, a sister that I actually enjoy spending time with and love, and a brother that is one of my favorite people in the world. I may not have the dream job, but I know I'll pull through and my relationship (or un-relationship) with the man I love may be a little harder than before right now, but I still enjoy him. I still get to know what it feels like to love, however hard it may be at times. There is so much good in my life, but if I forget about it, if I let the possibility of bad cloud the rays of joy, I'll never be satisfied, or peaceful, or happy. I'll always be waiting for the other shoe to drop. And then it will. And I will have missed what was happening right in front of me the whole time.

This will not be an easy journey. Basically I have to learn how to tone down all of my emotions, sort of like watching Spanish soap-operas mute. You know what they are feeling, but you juuuuuussst can't hear it. To be honest, I have no idea how to do this. I have no idea how to just chill, but I know I want to learn. I know I don't want to keep spinning my wheels getting stuck in the muck and mire of the disappointments and insecurities and what if's. That's going to be so hard to do. It's completely against the grain and nature of what I have been doing, well basically since I was born, but somehow, I know God wants to teach me. I mean it's basically trust, right? It's the principle that He is God, I am not, and all I can do is act kindly, do justice and walk humbly with Him. The rest is up to Him. For now though, I plan on using every available source to help me with this process. I'm going to find a counselor again (or "life-coach" as it is apparently now called), I'm going to get back into ministry and focus on people worse off than me. I'm going to find a job I actually like, pay some bills, shop with my sister, get my toes done with my mom, get coffee with friends, eat too much food, brew beer with my brother, watch House and Glee religiously, find excuses to wear my fabulous shoes, bitch about my cat's fur, maybe find a bowling league to join, worship every chance I get, obsess about my calories, read too many books on theology, probably get another tattoo and remember to stop caring about every last little thing, and instead, love every last little minute

Icarus

A few times in the past blogs, I’ve mentioned how it feels as though I’ve been walking through a bad dream. As though any moment, I would wake up and things would be back to normal, my whole world wouldn’t be torn apart.

Funny how in an instant, all of that can change.

I spent nine months in mourning. Nine months of being depressed, trying to hide away, searching for peace, comfort, anything to relieve what felt like perpetual torment (and yes, that is a nod to my inherently dramatic flair). Leading up to my graduation, I had two years of total and complete bliss, well actually, more like three. After I left my ex-husband, I found a new freedom and joy I hadn’t known. I discovered new parts of me and started to enjoy life all over again. Then I fell in love. It was wonderful and everything I had hoped it would be and more. And with a confidence in my step and a young optimistic outlook on life, I headed off to a strange and foreign land with the gleam of knowledge and power in my eye.

I spent two years living off savings, loans, scholarships and my mother, with my only job being homework that never really seemed to be work. I lived in a fabulous city, in a fabulous apartment with a fabulous boyfriend that made me feel all warm and cozy inside. Everything was too good. The world was out there to be gained someday, but for now, I got to languish in the lustfulness of my own existence. I was like Icarus flying too high. And I KNEW it too!!! I knew how blessed I was and still… landing hurt like hell.

I lost the great lifestyle, the boyfriend and the unhinged reality all at once. No wonder I went a little nutty. My ex was the only thing I had left to hold onto, so everything became about him. He was the constant that I thought I could carry with me into the next phase of life.

But alas, everything was changing and I couldn’t stop it. I was leaving college behind and I didn’t want to. Real life was not only looming, it was now here and I wasn’t ready to accept it. Everything crumbled in at once. I was no longer the young, carefree person I had become and loved. There had been no pressures, no roots to grow, no decisions to make. Everything was easy and remedied. And my path had always been different than a normal college go’er. I was older and therefore appreciated it more. I knew what the 9-5 looked like and I DIDN’T want to go back. I loved the feeling of being able to hope for anything, but having an excuse to not have to attain it: school. Now it was put up or shut up… I choice option C: cry.

My own little spoiled girl tantrum. Awesome. So I wrapped my spoiled little girl world around an all-too-fallible boy and brought us both down in flames. Granted the timing in my life of everything falling apart at once wasn’t too keen, but still, whether or not something makes sense does nothing to comfort when the consequences are unavoidable.

Basically, in short, I became one giant ball of emotional intensity, completely unaware of how to get out of the hole I had dug. I had made someone too important, my future too scary, and my past too glorious. That tends to be a perfect mixture for complete and total dysfunction. I wasn’t going to go down without some sort of fight, so I reasoned escaping the pain and the reality was completely and totally justified. This in turn, warped into an over exaggeration, trying to prove to myself, and everyone else I was still going to make something of this hodge-podge life. I was moving back to DC! So, in typical Sara fashion, I MADE that a reality. I didn’t think, I didn’t ponder, I just did. I had to try something, anything to get out of this funk. I had to prove there was hope, life and something more. God wasn’t providing it in the time frame and way I wanted, so I did. I was grasping at straws and straws were what I got.

The moment I stepped off the plane, I started to cry… and I didn’t stop for five days. It was the same feeling I had the morning after my wedding night: Oh shit. I just made a HUGE decision, and I know it wasn’t for the right reasons. I had carried more than my luggage across the country. I had carried my own baggage and funny, the shock of it not dropping off somewhere between SFO and DCA airports. I had said for the week leading up to the move, “I was happy there once…”

I can’t go near Foggy Bottom. I can’t go near Georgetown. Too many memories, it hurts too much to remember how great I once felt and how scared and alone and inadequate I feel now. I was confident, satisfied and at peace when I lived there. Now I feel as though I walk around with some sort of sign that says “I’m a failure, stare at me and mock.” Ironically enough, the demon I was trying to run from was the demon I ran straight towards. As I sat in tears (as usual) on Sunday with a wonderful friend, she looked at me and asked “If you could have what you wanted anywhere in the world, where would it be?” Immediately, “home” flew out of my mouth. She said, then you go home, because starting your life is going to be hard anywhere. That’s something you take with you. It’s not something you get to leave behind. She was right. I wasn’t going to be able to recapture ancient history. It was going to have to be something completely new, and that’s what scared the hell out of me..

My ex once told me I wasn’t good at letting go. He’s right. I remember when I was a child and my parents would put me to bed, I would hear them laughing with their friends, or listen to their TV playing and I would be so upset I couldn’t be a part of it. Those happy amazing moments when the whole family is gathered round and we are having a good time, love and joy and happiness spilling from every face, I would hope and pray no one would have to go to the bathroom or get up for a moment because I knew, I knew if something changed, it would all change, and the moment would end.

For some reason I have spent my whole life fearing a great moment ending as if another one wouldn’t follow. That would be there very last one and if I didn’t capture it and repeat it forever, if something changed, it would all disappear and nothing good would ever happen again.

Telling me that good moments will come again, or that letting a best friend go knowing I will find another, or being okay with one good thing ending because another one would begin somewhere else… it’s like speaking Chinese. It just doesn’t compute. So I wrap myself around people, places and things, hoping they will never change. But then, they do. And then I cry.

I have yet to learn that one good thing ending is just the opportunity for another to begin. Maybe that’s what I have to learn now.

I’m going back to CA. Not because I can’t make it work here, I know I can make it work anywhere. I’m going home because that’s where I feel called and where I know I want to be. It won’t be easy, the economy isn’t great, I’m going to have to work harder than I ever have to accomplish what I want in life, and I’m going to have to learn a whole new way of being. But in the mix-up of my learning, I made some huge errors. I hurt some friends, watched my pride fall to the ground like shattered glass and felt the sting of a friend telling me I was basically a basket case and she had never known me to be happy. Ouch. My drama-queen mentality just came back and bit me in the ass… and to top it off, I would have told you I wasn’t a drama queen. Even worse, I really don’t want to be one. I guess the goal is to not talk about it, but rather “be about it” as I have heard before. Easier said than done though, right? Nothing will sober me faster though, than having to face the mess I made… and having to clean it up.

Nothing is going to be peachy anywhere, but searching for happiness in a geographical location certainly isn’t the answer. And back in CA, things aren’t even close to what I want them to be. My ex and I are in a grey sort of area, knowing we love each other, but we are both a mess and can’t make promises; my parents are about to fall apart; I don’t have a job (but I am applying everyday for about 10 and I know I will have one soon), and I’m not sure I know what I want my life to look like. It’s all very grey and I love black and white and thus, I hate it more than I can say, but I know it’s necessary. At some point the training wheels have to come off, the tears have to stop and I have to put on my big-girl face, and try to grow up a little. And I may be a late bloomer, but I’m getting there.

Nothing has to be decided now. For now, I just need to settle down, find some of that long lost unique Sara-confidence, shake off the doom and gloom, and ask God to help me learn that not every change is bad, every ending awful and there are always great moments ahead. I can be thankful for what He gave me, trusting He will provide again. Joy and peace are not part of the equation of circumstances, but rather, sit above them. They are something that comes from facing demons, making mistakes, and learning the hard way emotions aren’t the truth, no one is responsible for me, but me, and I can’t let anything determine me, besides, well me. As spoiled, irresponsible, irrational, hopeful, heartfelt, authentic, and everything else I may be, at the end of the day, I answer to me. I have to be okay with my decisions, my actions, my choices and I have to own up to them when they fail to be the right ones.

No matter how close I got to the sun, I was always going to fall. Things weren’t always going to be that perfect and life wasn’t always going to be that easy. And as I move along in life, I will gain and lose many things, but if I take with me a self-respect born of ownership and character, if I allow God to humble me, teach me and have immeasurable love and grace for me, if I return that love to Him and others knowing it will never be returned void, then no matter what I do or where I go, I can walk in peace and confidence. It will be less about the circumstances and more about who I am in them, and who I want to be. I haven’t handled everything right, but I am trying. And to me, and I know to the Lord, for now, that’s enough.

Circular Thinking

Have you ever come to the end of a journey and feel as though all you did was circle back around?

I spent the evening walking around downtown DC. I had come back from looking at an apartment in Alexandria and basically had a panic attack. I couldn't figure out why. What was wrong with me? Why wasn't I jumping for joy?

I called my dad and started crying. Immediately. I can't explain it, but sometimes life feels as though you are forcing a square peg into a round hole and at this moment, that is EXACTLY how I feel.

I'm 26 years old. That not necessarily young, but it's also not old, but it does however, make excuses no longer applicable. I realized part of me was crying because the dream and idealism of youth was dying. I no longer have the privilege of walking around free and clear feeling as though there are no responsibilities, no decisions necessary. The world is no longer out on the horizon, but rather I'm living it and no longer on someone else's dime. What I truly want out of life, what truly matters, what I truly want to invest in, that's what is starting to count now. I feel it. I feel it deep in my heart. I feel the urge, the need, the pressure to no longer waste time on frivolous motives, but instead, settle into a life that is doing what I actually want, or at least pursuing it.

The hard part is, of course, finding what that is. I moved out to DC thinking this position would be the answer. This place, recapturing some of that illusive freedom and excitement would bring me the peace, the optimism, the hope for something more. Then I got here and I realized... I don't want more.

It's hard to realize I don't actually care about how much potential I have. I have spent my whole life hearing people say, "You are going to do such great things!" I don't know why people have decided to say those things to me, or whether or not it's something everyone hears and I just took it to heart, but for some reason, this phrase, this sentiment, this belief, has somehow burrowed it's way into my head and heart giving me a sense of failure if I decide that chasing the great rainbow of fame, fortune or power is somehow living a less than life.

Can I be honest for a moment? Before I left on Monday, the happiest time I have had in the last year, was sitting at home after my dad bBQ'd with two of my best friends, my family and my ex. We talked, laughed and drank wine for hours. We were more entertained by each other, than we were by anything else. Music wasn't needed, atmosphere wasn't needed, nothing was needed besides the ingredients of love and laughter. My heart was so full, my head so happy, my greatest desires so satisfied. There was not one event, not one moment of great historical significance that could compare. It was pure heaven for me. And I left it.

I won't lie, there is a piece of me that worries the sudden appearance of my ex has something to do with the way I feel. And maybe it does, but not in the way I or anyone else really would think. The sudden reemergence of him brought back something more than just my love for him, it brought back the reminder of what really makes me tick.

My heart is most satisfied when it is engaged in relationship. I am most happy, satisfied and fulfilled when I am loving those near me. I may not always do it perfectly, I may not always be the best at it, but at the root of who I am, that is what brings me the greatest sense of significance, hope, meaning and satisfaction. Yeah, it's true, apparently the one thing I fought against the most, is the one I now feel most desirous of: I actually want to be a soccer mom. The only world I want to change, is mine. Holy shit. Yes, I said it. And I meant it. And if you know me, you know how weird that is to hear from my mouth... or hand. In truth, it's sort of hard to admit, but it's also freeing. Who I am has been something I have been fighting, and I think it took me coming back out here to face it.

DC was great, when I was younger and needed a chance to find myself again. This isn't home though. This is a great place where I started to find myself. The other part of me I think I always knew was there, but didn't feel as though I could admit. There is almost a sense of shame attached to letting go of dreams of grandeur, especially when you know they could have been fulfilled. But I guess, that's all in the perspective. Maybe to me, what is grandeur to some, is something different to me.

I want a honda, or maybe my 2006 Acura. I don't need a mercedes, or a Lexus. I want a warm home, where people want to laugh, love each other or cry when needed. Not a $1.5 million row house in Georgetown. I want a warn in couch with a TV that is set to record House, not a finely upholstered setee with a channel always tuned to CNN.

Yes, I have energy, I have passion, I have drive, but when those are what I listen to, when those are what is being utilized while my heart is on the back burner, they fizzle, fade and send me circling down the drain of sadness and loss of wonder. To me, beauty is found in the faces of those I love, coffee with a friend, a late night conversation with my mom, talking to my nephew about girls. My heart soars when I sit down at my computer, log on and spill my heart to a few people I know read and somehow, it touches them.

When my ex and I broke up, I watched myself circle the drain because I thought much of me went with him. Loving him woke up something in me that changed the course of my life. Whether I like it or not, the great love I had/have for him made me realize that whatever career or vocation I chase, I would never be satisfied without using the most important part of me: my heart. My priorities changed, my direction was shifted and my desires more defined than ever. Whatever he is to me now, or will be in the future, loving him forever changed me. For that I will always be grateful.

And to be even more honest, I have to admit, the decision to leave CA had a lot to do with wanting that to not be true. I wanted to believe that if I couldn't have the life I discovered I really wanted (family, community, kids, a home), than I could find a way to be satisfied with something else, career, vocation, politics. I had no idea how wrong I would be. I got here and immediately felt the hole in my heart gape even wider. Trying to fit myself into the youthful ideals I once held just doesn't fit anymore. It's too late. I've already been tainted, I hate it hear. Not because it's awful, but because I don't want to settle here. I wouldn't mind this being temporary, but I find myself having panic attacks thinking of setting down roots. I won't sign a lease, I won't bring out my car (even though it's packed and ready), I won't even accept a new phone number for my blackberry. It's just not home here. I'm sure I could make it home, I just don't know if that's what I really want.

So now, the question is, what do I do from here? Do I just shove my crap back in my bag and hop on the next plane home? Why not? Because I don't want to make another rash decision. Or maybe because I'm afraid of pissing off my current boss, or maybe it's because I don't want to admit defeat (although I don't know what defeat really is) or maybe it's because I'm afraid to go back to not having a job, or maybe because I also don't know what I want to do if I go home. Don't get me wrong, I want to go home. Badly, but now, I just watched myself make a bad decision rashly. Is that what I want to do again?

And the real question: What is Jesus asking of me? I know He will support me in whatever I do, but I am chagrin to admit that I am not quite sure I invited Him into this decision, so now I know I need to make Him the decider in this one. I'm praying I'll hear. I'm praying I will get what I need and know what is right. I'm praying the decision I make will be the for good one. The one that doesn't have to keep being repeated. I'm praying for once, I will be settled in my spirit and know I'm following the only one that matters: the Father.