A Big Day

Friends, today is a big day.

What? Why? What's happening?!

More like what happened.

If you look, today only, to the right sidebar of this blog at my history application (or widget or whatever) you will see that this very day, five years ago, the first photos of giant squid were taken in the wild.

So if you ever thought September 30 was a waste of a day, think again.

I mean.

Din't you just need some encouragement today? Some motivation?

I know I did.

So go and do great things. Maybe you won't take the first pictures of the giant squid, but you can tackle something.

For me it will be studying for my Latin America midterm happening tomorrow.

And for you?

Blank

There is a blank word document pulled up on my computer in front of me.

It isn't to be filled with words on Cato (although I could now that I have read it). It's not to fill with consolidated notes to act as a study guide for this thursday's Latin America midterm. It's not to fill with me.

If it were to be a document of my thoughts, it might as just stay blank.

Because honor as it is to be asked to speak to this ministry that I love, it's not about what I think.

The white emanating from my screen is offensive to my eyes as I sit in this dark living room.

I don't have anything to say.

But there are some things that need to be heard. First and foremost by me.

Then, by the grace of God, there are things that need to be heard by our little ministry that could.

I say by God's grace because the truth is that the white space terrifies me. I don't want to be offensive in my words, I don't want to come across as high and mighty and the Lord knows that I don't want to get up there and act like I have my act together. I don't.

Neither does the BCM.

I want to have it together. The body of students I will be speaking with wants to have it together. But wanting just isn't enough.

Wanting to have something to say Tuesday night doesn't mean that I do.

Wanting to know how put my thoughts into a conversation doesn't mean that I can.

Wanting to just move on doesn't mean that we just can.

It has somehow got to happen.

It won't be on my own initiative. I won't be through my best intentions.

Somewhere between where I am and where I want to be, somewhere between where the BCM is and where it wants to be, is a humble, broken acknowledgement that I, we, simply do not know best.

I don't have the words. We don't have the answers.

Never mind my intention. Never mind expectations. Never mind my inadequacy. Never mind our disfunction.

All of that keeps "Document1" blank. Feeling inadequate and disfunctional keeps me from writing at all. Intention and expectation has me writing all the wrong things. Leading to a bunch of backspacing.

Oh I have things I could say. I have all sorts of thoughts circling my head, being chased by little blue birds.

Left to myself, I, simply, am drawing a blank.

But it is not about me.

Who I Want to Be

alternatively entitled "in which I (perhaps) inappropriately ask God to 'do his dang thang.'"

I should be reading Cato right now.

For my class in two hours.

But Cato doesn't give a care about my cares. And even if he did, he couldn't do a dang thing about it.

The fact that I know God can, do a dang thing, that is, brings me here instead.

I just literally ache for Him to transform me. Not necessarily into who I want to be, but into who I could be because He gave Jesus for that purpose. To transform me. Thus, it is not just who I could be, it is who I should be.

Not because someone said so. Not because I feel temporarily insecure. Not because of some great book I'm reading or who I think I'd like to be.

I long for transformation because this, me, I, am so inadequate.

Not discouraged by some paper or test. Not stressed. Not lonely. Not tired. Not sleepy. Though I am sometimes one or a combination of those things. But it's not just in my weakness. Even in my happiness, I have no way of spreading joy to the hurting people around me. My strong suits are simply nothing compared to God's strength. No, in all things, I alone am inadequate.

And that is not who I want to be.

I know I'm not alone. That is abundantly clear when there are two people piled on top of me whose laughter I can literally feel. When I sit and watch Kelsie's giddiness at the premiere of NCIS, I am not alone. When I'm flailing about in Ball circle chasing after some stupid frisbee like a madwoman with various beloved members of the BCM, I am not alone. I don't feel alone when Deirdre and I are laughing in a corner of the nest and life is just so familiar. When my week is trodden with all sorts of lunch dates and dinner dates and tv dates, I don't feel alone.

But when, in some of these dates, I find out about the things burdening my friends, I feel inadequate. Unable to offer advice, at a loss for words, careful not to further hurt feelings. Sad that things just aren't and will not be how they were. I feel inadequate to relate and it can get incredibly lonely. Not because I am lonely. Matter of a fact, in a weird, twisted way, I love that I have these relationships in which to confide. No I'm not lonely. But all the feelings of inadequacy come from this overwhelming feeling that I am alone.

And that is just not who I want to be.

Because God's honest truth about it is that I am not. Or I don't have to be.

I've been through and emerged from a time in my life where I learned (and relearned) that Satan is quick, fast, and in a hurry to take what is meant to be alone time with God and turn it into a lonely time. And while I've come out of that stage, the struggle between the two still rears its ugly head sometimes.

Like when I'm supposed to be reading for class.

I don't feel lonely. I am surrounded by people who show a sincere interest in my life for reasons only God knows.

But I do feel alone. Inadequate. Not helpful.

I could go down the lonely path. Sit around and soak up the alone-ness. Continuing to feel inadequate and not helpful.

Or I could wake up and realize that I am not helpless. This alone time could be with God. It could serve a purpose. It should serve a purpose. The helplessness feeling? It's meant to push me to find help.

The laughter with precious people is nice. It's uplifting. It is ever-reminding me that I am not alone. But it is not my help.

It's not the transforming factor. It is not adequate. An always happy, jolly person? That is not who I want to be.

I want to be like Paul. To know what it is to be in need, to be hungry, to live in want.

I want to be the person Jesus blesses in the Sermon on the Mount. Poor in spirit, mourning, meek, hungry for righteousness, merciful, pure in heart, peacemaking, and persecuted.

Because then I could truly say "I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me."

It's not about not having work, or not having problems or staying away from burdensome things. It's about learning to be content no matter the circumstance. It's not me. And it is not the natural tendency of this completely inadequate mindset.

An always joyful person with an ever-near God, because of an ever-adequate God?

That's who I want to be. And I'm not about to be able to get there by some positive thoughts. Not by achieving a good grade. Not by contagious laughter. Not by late night chats. Not by alone time, not by group time. Not by those things alone, at least. I've got to get better at giving God more than the time left over after all of these things.

I've been reading Frances Chan's "Crazy Love" recently. On page 92 he writes, "leftovers are not merely inadequate; from God's point of view, they're evil. Let's stop calling it 'a busy schedule' or 'bills' or 'forgetfulness.' Its called evil." So you're thinking, as I was, "that's just some crazy conservative too big for his britches (people don't use that word enough) author spoutin' stuff all up out of his head" (this may not have been you exact thought, given that no one uses the word britches and generally people only use one preposition in a prepositional phrase, but it was probably along those lines, right?) But the fact of the matter is that it is all in scripture, and Francis is quick to point out only a few of the very contextualized passages. I mean, whoa.

Maybe that's why I'm not really where I want to be. Am I just feeding God the leftovers? That's what is inadequate.

I don't want to feel helpless in the things going on around me.

I want to be a conqueror.

"No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through Him who loved us. For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord." (Romans 8:37-39)

That's who I want to be.

God, won't you do your dang thang?

Who I Am

It's a tricky thing, having a blog.

It's not like I have a hard time talking.

Clearly.

But it has been brought to my attention that many of y'all are paying attention to all of this talk. Which is good, I suppose, because I naturally write to an audience. It's just been easier that way. To pretend people are listening.

And then to know that Someone is? That blows my mind when I allow God to let it.

I made this blog for Him.

That sounds super spiritual, doesn't it? I don't mean for it to. Journals just got boring. There wasn't a way to include pictures or quickly type out something snappy. When I journaled, I didn't feel like myself. I felt like some hyper-spiritualized version of myself. Like I wrote what I would want my great-granddaughter to remember me as instead of how I truly felt.

Thinking someone might read my thoughts one day pressured me into being something I'm not.

Knowing someone could very well read my thoughts currently requires me to be who I am.

No horns to toot here.

Because most of you know that I have ziltch experience on a horn.

My great granddaughter might not know that about me. So I might could have convinced her.

I like this better.

When I started blogging, no one knew. But even then I wrote to an audience. Because I have one.

Then, when I found out I had an audience, I started writing to them. I got called out on it-- that my feelings were my feelings and should be kept to myself or in a private journal. My parents warned me of all the creepy people out there and to be careful about what I write. They said if I was going to put my thoughts out there, I should be prepared for the response. Whatever it was.

So I closed down shop. Outta here. I've never been one to hurt feelings and take names. So when a feeling got hurt, I decided it wasn't worth all of this. I learned then the huge lesson that if I'm going to say something here I sure better be living it out there. Because to get called on the discrepancy is humiliating.

And humbling beyond belief.

I soon decided that while the privacy thing should be a concern of mine and while there are some things I should keep to myself, this is a creative outlet I just don't want to give up. And what I believe, Who I believe? I can't really give that up either. Don't want to.

It was true that I had lost sight of the goal in setting this place up-- giving it back to God.

A place to analyze. To laugh at life and cry at life. To be. And to be certain that He can handle it. He can and does capture me. By all of this I have around me, in spite of all of this.

Consequently, I do have a journal.

And I no longer talk to my non-existent great granddaughter in it ;) (read: I never actually addressed a great granddaughter)

So there's that.

But then there is this.

And it's a tricky thing, having a blog (I said that already, I know).

Because sometimes it feels selfish. Why should you care what I have to say? Why should I take the time to sit and write about me?

Then again, it's one of the greatest avenues God has ever taken to show me that it's just simply not about me. Not this life, not these experiences, not this blog.

I'm glad you're here reading, whoever you are.

Let me introduce myself formally (not so much).

My name is Sadie.

I am no longer almost 20 as my sidebar reads. I'm just too lazy to change it.

I am a person more inclined to laziness than so much productivity. That's not so good.

I am a person more flexible than so much bent on details. The world needs a mix of the two. But for me, the flexibility has worked out well.

I am a sensitive person. I don't like to hurt feelings, I don't like to feel like I've hurt a feeling.

I somehow ended up 1000 miles from home at a school I never knew existed until less than a year before I packed up my life and moved.

I have never been in a serious relationship. That is a lie. I take them all pretty seriously. But the boyfriend thing hasn't quite presented itself.

I am somewhat unique, I suppose, because the former doesn't much bother me.

I have had two jobs in my life. Babysitting and Tropical Smoothie. Both of which I love.

I have a family that I adore.

I have far better friends than I could have imagined for myself.

I live in an apartment bigger than what half of the world's population will ever know. And still I often laugh it off as college housing, dreaming for the day I have bigger and better this and that.

I know am incredibly privileged to even know to dream of bigger and better.

I ask God regularly to take that privilege and work with it. I know the privilege is fleeting. And I often feel burdened by and guilty for it.

I am becoming more and more convinced that God's big is much bigger than my big and that his good is much better than my good. It's not always a pretty process, because I am not a delicate crier. I get all blotchy and red.

I like a sharpie pen.

I have an intense amount of American flags in my repertoire.

I love dusk.

I have this blog.

But it is not all about me.

And so, if you can learn anything from little me, I'm sure I could maybe (or, you know, a lot) benefit from knowing you.

It's not about me wanting to build up some comments. I have my audience. He has been here since the beginning of this blog and He'll be around way after (even circa when my granddaughter reads this, if that happens).

I just genuinely want to know who you are. Because you spend way too much time getting to know me. And I hardly even know you. That doesn't seem quite right.

On this post, if you are reading, would you do a few "I ..."s? Even if it's just your name.

I would love it.

A good bit of my introduction began with "I am..." Perhaps yours will, too. But here is why I am here.

Not because I am anything, but because He is.

Jesus introduced himself as the "I am."

He was the much anticipated I am.

Not the I am (dot)(dot)(dot).

The I Am. Period.

He just doesn't need adjectives. Or a ridiculous amount of words like I end up using.

Pick a word. He knows it.

There are some terrible words out there.

I am... abused.

I am... scarred.

I am... scared.

I am... depressed.

I am... hurt.

I am... struggling.

He knows it. And He has conquered it. He is. Period.

Whatever you are, whatever I am.

He is.

There is no shame there. There is no fear.

Wouldn't that be good to know? No shame or fear?

Yeah, it would be good. For me, that would be awesome. And I don't know it in full yet.

But He does.

So it's just not about who I am.

And in the end, it's not about who you are. Still, I sure would like to know who you are. Meet you in the comments?

K, great.

Held Together

It's as if Wednesdays decided to look me straight in the face and say "who you callin' wacked?"

Because so far this semester, let me tell you what, Wednesdays have been the best day of the week.

I was going to come home today, throw on some decent clothes ("sweatpants all day, again, Sadie" I couldn't keep from thinking) and book it to the nearest coffee shop for some R and R. Then I got a call from Beth Babcock, who is the BCM missions coordinator. I'm on the newly established (as in this afternoon established) missions committee (we are not exclusive, please join!) and we all needed to pour over some ideas about how to realistically raise the amount of money we have pledged towards the Virginia Baptist Mission Board.

I say realistically because we were not thinking logistically. Can I get an amen for a swing-off? I mean why is it that every time someone says "fundraiser" people pick a spot on the ceiling to all of the sudden stare off in the distance at? This stuff can be FUN, people! It's not supposed to be a logical "this is how much I have leftover to give, oh shoot it doesn't meet our fundraising goal" thing. It's not meant to be some legalistic, black and white, boring process.

It's out of thankfulness to God. And I'd much rather someone have that than to get their money. I'd rather have someone say "you know, I just don't have a lot to give" and do it cheerfully than have someone who gives a lot out of obligation and not out of the thankfulness, the joy that is supposed to be involved in the whole giving situation. I feel like too much of the latter over the years has a lot to do with why that speck on the ceiling all the sudden becomes so amazing.

I understand that. I mean who likes to give when they feel like it is expected of them in the first place? When you feel like someone is breathing down your neck to get you to pull out that 20. It robs it of the joy. And that is so not where I want us to be as a committee. I'm about the joy. Hmm, mmm. Anyway, the meeting this afternoon got me pumped for ways we can realistically meet a goal without being too logistical, or typical, in our planning. How many car washes can a group do, really?

So that was good.

Then I got home, still with "the plan" in mind. And there is Katie Jones running like a madwoman with a swiffer cloth, grabbing the vaccum, sweepin mess up... you get the picture, yes? So then I was like "what. a. yes!" Thus ensued all sorts of smells and concoctions and soaps and rags and paper towels. What resulted was a clean apartment. And that, my friends, is the opposite of whacked.

That was good.

I was a busy little bee this weekend. Something about a 6 page paper and the Inca Empire and my thoughts on them. Which were non-existent at the time and, after a day of detox, are pretty much back to non-existent now. This may be a problem come exam time, but for now it feels awesome to be done with my first major paper.

Speaking of feeling awesome, right now is the first time I've felt physically great since last friday. Turns out the culprit was a bladder infection. A few doses of Bactrim later and I am a happy camper.

Happy and not wacked out.

I mean if there is something wrong right now, it's that I don't have my camera to take pictures of my apartment to (finally) show those of you interested (riding my hind to finally do) in seeing the finished product. Mom.

Ah, but even that ain't no thang.

Another good thing about today? So You Think You Can Dance is on. I know, I know, how could life be any better? (that's me using sarcasm to make fun of my own self, in case you didn't pick up on it)

I just love a day to catch up. I'm going to go apply that to my school work soon, but for now I have the apartment, the missions committee, the computer and the sleep all up to speed and that is something I'm enjoying.

There's a lot going on around me. Not physically right now, really, as per we are all exhausted from the cleaning. But in the lives of the people I love, big things are happening. In my life, there are big things to consider. So I do and they do (consider said big things). Sometimes we talk, sometimes we don't. And these things around me? They should seem BIG. They should weigh pretty heavily. On some people they do. For those people I am truly burdened. But even that burden isn't mine to carry. It isn't theirs either. Praise the Lord.

He's got bigger and better things than my "big" things. I don't know what they are, and I have a responsibility to actively ask for His wisdom in discerning what the bigger and the better is. I'm not always (as in close to never) good at the second part. But I'm getting a better idea of the first part and it sure-as-sweet-potato-casserole-on-thanksgiving is prompting a desire in me to be better at the second.

For my birthday I decided to splurge a bit. I had money from my grandparents and there were some vendors outside of our student center. There were dresses and scarves and posters and quilts. All sorts of tempting things. But the jewelry caught my eye. Specifically this woven little ring.

In Bible study that week one of our reference passages was Colossians 1:15-20. The intricate pattern on the ring reminded me of verse 17:

"He is before all things, and in him all things hold together."

Simple enough, right? The passage goes on to describe everything that Jesus is and it is a lot. He is a lot. It's overwhelming, even. But it's as simple as that at the same time. You might just say He is big. Which is funny, because I'm pretty sure I've got some big things to offer Him. Big to me, at least. From where He's standing? Shoot, He's holding it together.

My bible has this to say on the verse:

"God is not only the Creator of the world, but he is also its Sustainer. In him, everything is held together, protected, and prevented from disintegrating into chaos. Because Christ is the sustainer of all life, none of us is independent from him. We are all his servants who must daily trust him for protecting us, caring for us, and sustaining us."

Wednesdays are going to need a new adjective, I fear.

Because it no longer answers to wacked out.

And God sure isn't intimidated by the wack.

He's holding it together.

Tired

This is about the 4th consecutive day that I've gotten 4 1/2 hours of sleep (or less) the night before. The general reaction to this is to say "Oh, Sadie, what are you doing, that is so crazy, why are you up so late?"

For me, 2 a.m. has never really been that late. I'm just a night person like that. I'm all over the night life scene, as you well know*. So at the time it doesn't occur to me that there will be repercussions in the morning. The 8 a.m. morning. At the same time, it's not much different from this summer when I would go to bed at midnight (or much later, let's not tell lies) and wake up for work at 6. Except for now I stay up to do way more productive things. Like homework or talking things through with a friend or doing homework because I spent the early evening talking to friends.

Jill told me to learn to say no to friends, do my work and go to bed. I appreciate that she said it, because the truth is that often I feel bad telling people that my plan for the night is to do some work and hit the sack. It is good to know that it's not a bad move.

And while I'm used to staying up late and functioning quite well the next day, I cannot be so disillusioned as to believe that the lack of sleep doesn't have some effect on my mood. Perhaps a little more sleep would make me a better everything the next day. Or is that giving sleep too much credit? Because here's the thing, right now the staying up late has a purpose. Those morning hours are quiet and still and comforting to be in. If someone is around, there is uninterrupted conversation with time to sort through thoughts and feelings. It's doing me a world of good. Because I am tired.

I am not sleepy. I'm tired.

The act of balancing what other people expect of me as a friend, as a co-BCMer, as a student, etc. is just taxing. And it leaves little room for considering what God expects of me as a daughter, a co-heir of Christ. So then I feel as if I should also carve out time with Him, as something more to do and that is incredibly frustrating because He doesn't just want my time, He wants my life. He wants it all. And mostly I feel like He wants me to give up the anxiety of what other people expect of me and the guilt of not meeting those expectations because what He expects of me is far more, far better, far more constructive than peer or academic pressure. He can relieve me of the guilt and the frustration. His expectation of me is not about what else I need to do as so much simply recognizing and responding to what He has already done. My response to His expectation isn't going to involve guilt or frustration, it entails joy and change.

Change that I clearly need because I am tired.

I stay up talking to this person and that, appreciating that they hear my thoughts and can offer many of their own. It's a built in burden sharing system that I love about fellowship. Ah, but it's not the solution. My worry doesn't go away because I've put it on such and such's shoulder and they're carrying it for me. I can't expect another person to do that for me. It's good to share what's going on in my heart, but in the end, it's not their problem. And its selfish to ask them to take it on.

But I know who can do it for me. Who wants to do it for me. Who not only hears about my frustration and anxiety but can actually help take it away. For good. Not just offer up some advice about it or say I know how you're feeling (though He does). He actually has the power to take it away. A God who long ago decided that my burdens were His problem and sent His Son to take them on. Why waste that opportunity by asking other people, merely people, to shoulder my cares? I mean I want my friends to know what I care about and how I'm feeling. If anything, I'm too open about my thoughts. But the solution doesn't ride with them. In the end, if something is bothering me and I've talked about it, I still go to bed at night bothered. Not because I want to but because in sharing my opinion I can't expect another person to do something about it. Theoretically only I can do something about it. Even then I know better than to think that a solution lies within me. In reality, only God can do something about it.

Or so I'm finding out.

When I'm up late and letting Him. Do something about my heart, that is.

And when I ask God to double the energy of a four hour night's sleep because I believe He was on to something that I just couldn't go to sleep in the middle of, He has. I should've had two quizzes in my 8 a.m.s this week, which got cancelled for one reason or another. I'm not saying God cancelled some quizzes because I didn't feel prepared or rested. But it has acted as confirmation to me that yeah, Sadie, it's not all about your sleep. If you're tired of something, if you want to make a change, if you want God to move in your life then you've got to put in the time to ask Him for just that. The rest either "works out" or pales in comparison to a deepening understanding of what it is to let God take on my cares.

I know at some point I'm just going to have to get more sleep and be responsible in that regard. But for now, being sleepy beats being tired's hind tail. Rest He can grant. He can't take the burden I'm tired of until I give it up. So I'm learning to trust Him for both. I'm convinced that not only will He take my initial burden, but that if I'm faithful to stilling myself, He'll show me how to go about remedying the situation. Confident, because He sent His Son to be able to do so. That's just cool to me. I want to be authentic in believing it, not just saying it because I feel like it is what I should say.

Mostly, I know it is stupid to be caught up in my own insecurities and anxieties when life is about so much more than suffering through it. I don't think I "suffer" through work for Jesus, as is a common motivator. The point of Jesus suffering (dying) was so that I wouldn't have to hang on to unnecessary burdens like insecurities and trivial, if necessary, work.

People sit and listen to your fears and failures and hurt and drama often thinking "just get over it." But they won't say it because they know it's not constructive, that you can't just not feel what you're feeling. That it would probably just hurt your feelings. And if it were all up to you, in your own strength, that would make sense. I feel like the cool thing about being a Christian, though, is that we can tell a struggling brother or sister that we do have the capacity to get over our fears, failures, hurt and drama. We can say "just get over it" because their issues have so much less to do with their own weakness as so much an opportunity for God to work with His strength. And we've got to learn to get over it, or rather to give it over because if we don't, where's the hope in that? Where is the joy and the change? How then, if we insist on taking on our own burdens, is Jesus' love working in us? How is He able to show it to us and through us if we're intent upon fixing things ourselves? And how in the world am I supposed to be intentional and sincere about loving other people if I'm not letting the love of Jesus-- the real, authentic, life changing love-- work in me to relieve my anxiety or guilt or what not? I want it to be okay that I'm feeling those things when I'm in a certain place or around certain people. Because it's got to be okay for me to feel those things deeply before I'm able to feel God deeply. And before I'm able to share Him deeply.

I'm tired of feeling like it's not okay for me to feel those things in the first place. It is.

It's natural. It's human.

What I crave is the ability to feel those things and then have sincere, honest people tell me Sadie, there is a way to get over it. Just quiet yourself. Whisper. Don't make Jesus talk over you, because He can silence you. Or you can just listen. Listen and let Him have it. It's okay to feel those things, it's okay to feel powerless within your own ability to stop those feelings. But you have a Way.

It's sacrifice. It's Jesus.

It's nice to have that in a group of people around me. But the truth is that such an understanding is not contingent on people telling me.

It's astounding that I have a God who would love for me, his creation, to hear Him say those things. Aside from whatever comfort I find in the counsel of the friends around me.

He doesn't have a bad day, He's not tired. And He sure as anything is not sleepy.

Today I had a break between my 8 a.m. and my 11. So I biked back to my apartment and decided to take a nap. Recently I've decided that one of the best ways for me to be focused on God when I hit the pillow-- to talk to Him about life and practice supplication for my friends-- is to have a worship song playing in one headphone ear bud. One ear is for resting my head, the other hears a steady, constant reminder that God is listening, He is worthy to be praised, and He is ready and mighty to save. It made for a great nap, falling asleep thinking about God's sufficiency rather than my own to do list.

This is what I listened to. I didn't watch, I just listened.

Sweet Audrey-Girl from angie smith on Vimeo.

These are the words:

"I need words

As wide as sky

I need language large as

This longing inside

And I need a voice

Bigger than mine

And I need a song to sing You

That I’ve yet to find

I need You

Oh, I need You

I need You

Oh, I need You

To be here now

To be here now

To hear me now

To hear me now"

and then,

"When the storm is raging all around me

You are the peace that calms

My troubled sea

And the cares of this world

Darken my day

You are the light that shines

And shows me the way

Oh, the beauty of Your majesty

On the cross You showed Your love for me!

Beautiful Lord

Awesome and mighty

I’m captured by this love I see

Beautiful Lord

Tender and holy

Your mercy brings me to my knees

It’s Your mercy that has made me free

Beautiful Lord

When my sin is all that I can see

Your grace remains the shelter that I seek

And when my weakness is all I can give

Your gentle Spirit gives me strength again

And oh, the beauty of Your majesty

On the cross You showed Your love for me

Beautiful Lord

Awesome and mighty

I’m captured by this love I see

Beautiful Lord

Tender and holy

Your mercy brings me to my knees

It’s Your mercy that has made me free

Beautiful Lord

And I am lifted by Your love to sing

It’s Your mercy that has made me free

And I am lifted by Your love to sing!

It’s Your mercy that has made me free!

Oh, the beauty of Your majesty

On the cross You showed Your love for me!

Beautiful Lord

Awesome and mighty

I’m captured by this love I see

Beautiful Lord

Tender and holy

Your mercy brings me to my knees

It’s Your mercy that has made me free

Beautiful Lord

You’re beautiful, my Lord

You’re beautiful, my Lord"

I'm tired. And I'm ready to be captured by the love I see.

Thank you, God, for letting me see the love. A bit of it, at least. Mostly, thank you for being that love. I can't even grasp it.

*not really

Twenty Something(s)

Like I said, not really feeling the old and wise thing.

I do feel twenty, though. With responsibilities and what not. When you're ten you don't really look forward to twenty. But turning twenty makes me wonder where I'll be at thirty. How will I have grown? What will I have learned? Will I even make it there? After all, it isn't promised.

Which adds a little urgency to twenty. I've been getting the typical "you're twenty, you have your whole life ahead of you." Do I? Who am I to say? What I have is today.

Which is not to say "go crazy!"

In Paul's words, "'Everything is permissible'--but not everything is beneficial. 'Everything is permissible'-- but not everything is constructive." (I Corinthians 10:23)

Sadie, it's your birthday, it's all about you.

"Nobody should seek his own good, but the good of others." (I Corinthians 10:24)

And while I love the sentiment behind others trying to make the day about me, it is uncomfortable having it be all about me when others are having a hard time.

The conclusion I have reached on this my 20th birthday is this: I'm just not attached to this life.

I mean, I love it. I don't want to leave it any time soon. And I am so thankful for the chance to celebrate my time in it. But I have a Father neither bound by nor defined in terms of time. A God who decides how long I'm here and for what purpose. Talk about "you're twenty, you're free!" It is incredibly freeing to me to know that I'm not in charge of those things. I'm

responsible for using the time I have wisely, sure. But it's not up to me to decide how much

time that is.

"Now it is God who has made us for this very purpose and has given us the Spirit as a deposit, guaranteeing what is to come. Therefore we are always confident and know that as long as we are at home in body we are away from the Lord. we live by faith, not by sight. We are confident, I say, and would prefer to be away from the body and at home with the Lord. So we make it our goal to please him, whether we are at home in the body or away from it." (2 Corinthians 5:5-9)

So when I say I'm not attached to this life, it doesn't mean I don't appreciate the gifts or the company or the general outpouring of love to me. It doesn't mean I'm itching to get away. It just means that this life I have, it's not about me. I try to live it full and well.

To go on morning bike rides.

To wear a helmet for safety.

To sip tea and munch scones with a dear friend.

To read books and be educated.

To happen upon the boy's picnic and crash it.

To bake cakes and savor smells.

To lick the beaters and offer the spatula to others.

To wear a redicalous birthday hat as a joke.

To soak up the presence of sweet company at dinner.

To sing (yell) at the top of my lungs on a delightfully spontaneous road trip.

To look over the moonlit water and up at the sky and stand in awe.

To appreciate sanitation even in its most basic form.

To blow out the candles on another year with my Rooms.

But ultimately the goal is to please the God who grants my every breath. Fitting, I think.

The pessimist would say I'm one year closer to death. I say so what.

"Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day... what is seen is temporary but what is unseen is eternal." (2 Corinthians 4:16, 18)

With that in mind, I wander into the land of twenty somethings. But 'cept for I wont be the "something" for yet another year. In lieu of this I've come up with twenty somethings I've learned in my life thus lived. Moving somewhat chronologically.

1. Sometimes you've got to just entertain yourself. The story goes that I could sit in my crib and watch my hands for hours. And from those stories I've gleaned that life isn't always about being entertained, but sometimes about using what you have and squeeze some fun out.

2. While it is good to keep a relaxed schedule, sometimes it is just time to go. Sometimes being rushed is necessary to get things done. There are places to go, people to see, things to do. Apparently when I was this age I didn't quite get why rushing was necessary and would go fetal position if Mom got authoritative about getting things done quickly. She raised her voice, I cried, fearing I was letting her down. But now I know that my time frame is not the same as others, and often times that means speeding mine up.

3. Smearing Mom's makeup all over your face is not a good idea. Simple. A good pair of shoes? Always a good idea.

4. It is rude to hide behind your parents legs when someone says hello. Sometimes you've got to give up what feels comfortable to you in order to be polite and sensitive to someone else.

5. My God is so great so strong and so mighty there's nothing my God cannot do (or at least I taught my 5 year old sunday school kids that this weekend.)

I also found this picture and need to include that I was 5 on my first trip to D.C. One might say this is when the fascination began. But who can really say?

Consequently, I still have the love for babies, too. Dad, on the other hand, does not have that hair.

6. Tests don't have to be scary. My first spelling test TERRIFIED me. I learned that tests were about the assessment, not necessarily the grade. Though I'm not sure they used those terms to explain this principle to a 6 year old.

7. While I was not a coordinated person even in my physical prime (basically failed gymnastics), I loved to play anything outside. An appreciation for the power of fresh air, if you will.

8. My teacher used to tell us on a bad day that she was "on her last nerve." What that meant was that we had to be quiet and wait until lunch. There was nothing else we could do to help. Being quiet as a way to fix things stuck with me.

9. I was class president. Little quiet me. So in hindsight I guess I learned that the meek follower can (maybe should) also have something important to say. Whether or not they always express it, having the opinion is important.

10. I learned I like to write and could use it as a creative outlet.

11. I got to shave for the first time and distinctly remember my mother telling me that I had to clear the hair from the tub. Is that gross? Well now every time I get out of the tub I consciously check to make sure my hair is gone. In a small way that taught me to show some consideration.

P.S. On a vain note, it is a good thing I got to shave my legs because let's be honest, there wasn't much else going on for my look at the time.

12. My friends all moved away and all my mom's friends were either ten years younger, really sick or moved off. What I learned was that sometimes Satan takes what Go

d could use as alone time with Him and makes it a lonely time. I also learned not to let him.

13. Emily taught me to pluck my eyebrows. Bless her.

This woman picked me up from school one day (read: she was not some random woman, her name is Yvette and I knew her prior to the being picked up from school) and we went shopping. Sometime during this, I remember quite vividly, she told me not to change. I mean, change is unavoidable, so yeah, change. But something about being told I didn't need to be anything more than I was at that moment, as immature 13 year old me, was so contrary to what I assumed was expected of me. I didn't have to be prettier or less awkward or more mature or have more friends. I was loved like that. Of course I knew my family felt that way. But to have the youth group leader I admired so much say so was memorable. It wasn't just about feeling accepted by Yvette, it was about feeling loved by God.

(this is not me at 13, obviously)

14. I didn't really wear a lot of make up, but I abided by the tried and true advice of my grandmother, "you need a little color"* to get by in the looks department.

* put some lipstick/gloss on

During the Summer of 2004 I went on a mission trip to Greece with Saddle Creek. It was my first international trip and fascinating to see the places mentioned throughout the bible. Spiritually, it was hard on me. I learned on the trip that, due to no fault of any one of the God-given personalities within the group, people can just let you down. It's natural and it was a good realization to come to, the knowledge that service is done first and foremost to and through God.

Emily graduated and I became, for all intents and purposes an only child (on the weekdays). The paradigm completely shifted and go-with-the-flow me was made the automatic center of attention. I think getting used to this prepared me to be, out of necessity, a generally more outgoing person.

15. Having been on two mission trips with the Calvary Baptist Youth group, I developed a rather lovely group of friends... no small feat for a girl who at 11 proclaimed to be just fine going through life without a group of "spend the night friends." With the addition of these fine, Godly ladies came the end of the "alone but not lonely" phase of my life and a new, if tiny, understanding of the providence of God.

16. Technically I learned a lot of things about driving.

From Mom, Lock and Load.

From Luke, always turn on the lights when driving.

From Dad, always use the parking brake.

From Emily, basically just don't get caught (she's good at this trade).

I also started babysitting pretty much full time on weeknights, which was exciting given that all of my life I fantasized about this ability.

17. Senior year. What's not to learn? I learned to appreciate differences within my class and find common ground with most everyone. This developed into completely new, exciting, fun relationships with people I honestly only ever dreamed about being friends with. It also led to being placed on homecoming court, an unexpected delight to this loner.

I contemplated a lot about my future, but spent most nights soaking up family time.

I grew close to a basically new Saddle Creek Youth group.

I went on a mission trip to Brazil which opened my eyes to how blessed I am versus how much I actually need in order to be content.

18. I left home and learned to make a completely new one 1000 miles away. Something I never thought I could do, even (especially) when I got here. It felt like it just happened. But I know better than that. I began to feel like I better understand what it means to be carried by the prayers of others and felt challenged to grow in my own prayer life. I still feel that and it's not something I have a good grasp on. But in reflecting on this year, the importance of prayer is dramatically obvious to me. If getting me out of my comfort zone is what God was trying to do by bringing me to Virginia, then he definitely accomplished that and I've learned so much. At the same time, He plopped me right down into a new kind of comfortable-- a time to come to terms with my independence and responsibility as he teaches me what it means to do relationships and hard work. With His help available all the while.

19. In the words of one of my 5 year old sunday school kids, "you get what you get and you don't throw a fit."It's been a year of learning what it means to rely on God. In every small thing I've offered as a burden and sacrifice to Him, God has shown me that he is faithful and can be trusted. And that's in what little I've surrendered.

And so, in approaching the twenty somethings, I'm becoming more and more aware of how God has been working in my life to mold me into something, someone, who He can use. As time goes on, the more I want to let Him. The more anxious I am to know how He'll do it. Because there seem to be a thousand tiny little things that have to fall in place for my ideal adulthood to take place-- so much out of my control and over my head.

He leans down to wipe my anxious tears and says Sadie, I'll give you much better than your ideal. I'll give you mine, if you'll let me.

I've only gotten thus far because of what I have given over to God and I'll only go so far as whatever I'm willing to give up in the future.

I don't have to be old and wise. I don't need to be young and carefree. Because ultimately, it's not about me.

That is the one something I know about being twenty.

When I Grow Up

I'm old. Older, at least. Two decades of old. No longer a teenager.

I feel like a spring chicken, though. And what's more, I still feel young. Little even. Little in the face of this big world. Appropriate, I guess.

Want to know something strange? I wasn't really cut out to be a teenager, I don't think. I mean, there's no way to avoid it, glad I did it, don't regret it, never disliked it. But the stereotypes-- the rebellious, hormonal, emotional, moody, stuck up, talking back, discontented, disrespectful, insecure, disastrous years? I dreaded those when I turned 13 and never quite believed them. Of course I had my moods. Of course I felt insecure. And man, did I do things wrong. It's not that I felt I was none of those things, how great am I. I just never felt bound in those things.

Part of what's hard about being a teenager is that you know how people expect you to act (see above). And for the most part I spent most of my days hoping I could do better than that. I didn't always do better than the stereotypes, but I knew there was a bigger picture. I wouldn't be a teen forever, I didn't feel the need to assert my independence. Because I believed authority wasn't in my life to make me miserable. And because I knew independence would come sooner rather than later. And it has crept up rather soon, let me tell you.

I wasn't a good "teenager." Mostly for cuz I wasn't in a hurry. I knew I wasn't going to grow up overnight, so I didn't act like I had. I did, however, decide to patiently await the day I would be "grown up."

You know, when there was more to life than which boy noticed you in which outfit, when your parents not letting you go to such and such activity wouldn't be the worst thing in the world, when I could babysit regularly, when I could be peers with my siblings, when I could be friends with my parents, when I could have a friend over whenever, when I could use the knowledge it was taking all my time to learn, when I could make my own money, when I could have a better grasp on my faith and what it means to love Jesus and worship God, when the pressure would be off to be either a "good" or "bad" teen, when people would no longer have to speculate how you would "turn out." If anything, I didn't feel bound in the stereotypes, I just felt bound by those stereotypes-- bound by that age range.

So, in some ways I feel grown up. In other ways I feel like I've just taken baby steps.

I think that might happen every year. Perhaps it's best that way. I'm glad I had the time to be an "almost" adult under a lot of protection. A trial and error process, if you will. I still feel that protection in a lot of areas in my life, but I'm also learning to let go of them little by little.

Still knowing all the while that I will have all the protection I need. I have an always present God. I have hope.

Maybe that's the best thing being a teenager taught me.

Yeah, I'd say so.

It will, no doubt, be the best thing being a "grown up" will continue to teach me.

Clothe Yourselves

"In college, one day you're in and the next day... you are out."

Thank you, Heidi Klum (er, Katie Titus). Oh yes, an interesting and vivacious introduction to the semester it was, Friday night.

There was a lot of dancing. There were even more stares at the crazy folks dancing. Tacos, salsa and, uh hm, decorations. The purpose of it all was to say "welcome". Yes, to the old people. But the old people are just that... old (disclaimer: I do love the old timers). The real joy in the welcome back fiesta, though, was meeting the new. The fresh if you will.

And, boy, did we get fresh.

With hugs.

With the macarena.

Thriller.

Musical Chairs.

Group spoons (too intense to capture pics of, mind you).

Brownies compliments of Gilmore.

An impromptu episode of Project Runway: UMW edition. And/or Broke edition. It is a special type of show where one uses whatever sort of decorative material around and makes use of it in the name of fashion.

In the end Sam won, given that he stole all of the decorations for himself.

I wasn't trying to get a cheesy verse to put with these pictures, promise. But when this passage came up on my Saturday morning ministry meeting (say that 3 times fast) I couldn't help but think of the fun had the night before.

"Therefore, as God's chosen people, holy and dearly loved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience. Bear with each other and forgive whatever grievances you may have against one another. Forgive as the Lord forgave you. And over all these virtues put on love, which binds them all together in perfect unity." (Colossians 3:12-14)