Saddle Up Your Horses

I'm doing my best to enjoy the last sips of summer life much like I'm trying my best to savor the Peanut Butter Cup smoothie I brought home from work.

That's a treat, you see, because the smoothie has 600 calories. (and also because in 1 week I'm going to have to pay full price for these babies).

It's a simply indulgent smoothie. As in it says that on the menu. Indulgent.

In many ways, that's what this final bit of time left at home is. Shopping for "school clothes" with Mom and buying bridal gifts and Step Up marathons and babysitting and working with the hilarities I call coworkers* and curling up in my room's new reading chair with my alpaca blanket is all coming to an end shortly. And forever.

I mean, sure. Fun will always exist in life where you throw in a little energy to conjure it up. I pray I'll always have the energy to entertain the subjects above. But this is the last summer in the traditional style I've known to date. Not to be dramatic or anything.

The thing is that it doesn't feel very dramatic. Just like another school year to pump myself up to. Thinking towards summers of uninterrupted work or starting a career away from home or whatever else God has up his sleeve seems a bit daunting. But so did the 5th grade when I was starting the 4th. It's about a step at a time. So that's what I'm doing.

The step I was particularly grateful for last night was drifting asleep healthy. And knowing that every other one of my loved ones was doing so, too. For some reason I had a quick vision of myself trying to fall asleep in a hospital bed and it cast my plush, comfy bed in a glorious light.

At best I am elated to start this semester. At worst, I am overwhelmed by how much there is to do before it has even begun. Insert lump in throat here. Anxious to do something about the, well, anxiety, I actually wrote out a list.

No I do not have a fever. Just a residual headache, thankyouverymuch.

It's not so much a list of things to do, as so much a list of goals to fulfill. School Year's resolutions, if you will:

1. The Tivo must go!

It is the greatest blessing a curse has ever been, the television recording device. By it, friends are able to gather and laugh, or one is able to have something stomach-able to watch at 2 a.m. All the time is the time to watch t.v. with these things and with it one (or at least this one) is fooled into thinking there is all the time in the world. All the time to write papers and have conversation and journal and pray and study and dance and seize the day! Until, of course, little of these things happen because all of the time just got spent either in front of the tv or planning events around it. And so, my friends, the tivo must go.

2. The Cell Phone Policy makes its debut

If you know me, you know my beef with the cell phone. You know I'd rather just not have one. I don't enjoy the idea that people can expect to talk to me any time of day they'd like or that they would have the right to be upset with me if I was not available. Phone calls weren't meant to be taken during lunch time, nor was texting designed as a diversion from present company.

That being said, I know there is a balance to strike between the real world and the grandmother that lives inside of me. A few things lead me to my new policy:

a. I know I take my... let's say reclusive... cell phone tendencies have the tendency to drift from any notion of the etiquette in whose name I protest.

b. Back in the 'ole days I remember Mom making it a specific point to check messages and return calls for the first 10 minutes or so after we got home from running errands. Any friend in the history of being my friend could tell you I might benefit from my mother's sound example.

c. I've recently become more conscious of my activity while at the wheel of a car. And my responsibility as a citizen to consider the safety of everyone else's precious cargo even if I am by myself in my car.

So the plan is to maximize the benefits of the cell (i.e. emergency help, communication with people I've made plans with, contact with people when they need me) while minimizing the hassle of being a part of the instant gratification generation and the frustration I have with phones. My phone will be on me at almost all times. I will, however, only check it once I arrive back at my apartment. At which point I will dedicate the first few minutes to returning any calls I "miss" while out and about.

I can guarantee this will mean that I answer my phone less often. But I am certain that it will increase the rate at which I return that call. Win/win.

3. Better Stewardship

I want to use what I have and use it well. I want to share and share well. With many people because that's what brings me joy. And if I can make it happen, I'm sure it would make me a much better servant-- a lover of God and of people. And I'm interested in that.

This sounds stupid, I know. But I'm starting with my clothes. Use it or lose it, baby. So I'm going to return to the 4th grade (this is becoming a theme in this blog post) and lay out my clothes before bed, while I have the time and energy to actually look at and use what I have. What I don't use goes. In this way, I will become a better steward of my resources.

By the same token, I would like to be a better steward of my time. A planner will help with this. (novel, I know). I'd like to become a part of the system that allows me to be a good steward of my clothes by enabling me to donate what I don't use by volunteering at a donation center. I don't know where that is or what it looks like, but it is a school year resolution, and I will find a way.

4. I'm going back to the closet, baby.

Back in the day when I peed in my pants in front of my boss while telling him I'd spend 1 hour of quiet time in my closet every night, I had no idea how beneficial that time would actually be (or how God can teach someone through their ineffective bladder). I'm missing the company of my shoes during my prayers and the rustling of my roommates outside of the door as they attempt to feed me and pass me notes during my "time out."

And at the end of the time, I can pick out my clothes, so #3 is built in here.

Score.

5. 365 Days of Thankfulness.

Niki Mangan (who may or may not know I exist) has been doing this for a while and I've envied it every time it shows up in my news feed. So, starting on September 5, 2010, I'm posting a picture for every day and being thankful. On purpose.

6. DC

#6 will incorporate #4, which incorporated #3, so this list gets easier as we go. Last year I resolved to get to DC more often. So I did. And it was great and beyond what I knew to expect. God just does that sometimes. But now I'm intrigued because if He can do that with the silly little idea of a starry eyed little college girl wanting to take more cute-sy day trips to the city, I want to know what He can do with the longing prayers of a broken-hearted near-graduate who wants to make a difference in that city. Or somewhere. I can't approach it on my own and God wouldn't want me to and I think knowing where to go next starts with a humble and regular acknowledgement of that so that prayer will be built in to the glorious, everyday college life that I do my best to soak up.

7. Job or no job, this internship is going on record.

The schedule of topics this past spring for the internship at Fairview was beyond coincidence or happenstance. There was a purpose behind every meeting. But. I was terrible at recording what we did and what resources I used so whether I'm coordinator or not, I will have a group of students and I will keep tabs on our "curriculum."

8. Church people, here I come.

Turns out that there are so cool folks at Fairview. Pretty certain I knew that going into Peru. Coming out, though, I have such a deeper desire to grow those relationships. Thus, it is on the list.

9. Let there be sleepovers!

In all of the chaos that was the busy lives of the ladies of La Petite Maison Blanche and given my own home-body tendencies, it turns out that I did a lot less bunking in than I'd dreamed last year. This year, an overnight bag will permanently reside at the little white house, so there will be no excuse against spontaneous sleeping over. Katie Jones, I'll leave Freedman at the apt. so you won't be lonely. Plus there's always Claire and Claire!coffee :)

10. Farmer's market, baby!

There's something about cheap fresh flowers that I can't resist. Except for I have for three years. Not. Any. More. Last year I accomplished the "go-to-DC-more-often" dream. Now it's downtown Fredericksburg's turn. It's time to shop local, starting with my Saturday mornings.

So that's it. It might be ambitious, but it's enough to turn anxiety into excitement and daunting tasks into fulfilling goals. With the correct amount of listening to Steven Curtis Chapman's "Great Adventure" and some good company along the way, I think the list is doable.

Saddle up your horses.

Im coming for you, Senior Year.

Stream of Consciousness

On Tuesday, as I prepared to report to work at 6:30 a.m., I had a lot on my mind.

It wasn't really sparked by anything other than anticipating this trip to Cuzco-- I had an awesome Monday night and turns out Tuesday was really a fun day. Just a glimpse: Dad remembered to add me into the cup count for the coffee pot. And there was a street sign propped on the prep table at work. Like I said, good day.

It was 6:07 when I thought to myself, "maybe I should write some of this stuff down."

But there was no time. So. Like a dork (and like Felicity) I recorded myself speaking what I was feeling. (after all, I did just take a class in Oral History this year). Then I transcribed it and it remains a pretty accurate display of my thoughts going into this trip. For the past couple of weeks I've had all sorts of topics that I've considered writing about and never got around to it. My dictation starts with some of those:

Love and Sarah's wedding and more Addie and Huddy or Baby Truett or funny lyrics or my job or people that I love or Sarah's visit but most of it all comes down to a new recognition of all that I have.

And how much I have.

And I’ve become very aware of this as I pack for Peru, because as you pack to go to a third world country or at least a poor part of a city, in an orphanage, you're surprised at how much you don’t need. And I’m already preparing myself for a complete change of pace. I'm excited.

Because I think that another thing that all of the topics I mentioned come down to, and probably the fact that I haven’t blogged, indicates that there’s a complete lack of urgency in my life right now

Or that the urgency is on things that just aren’t as big a deal when you’re thinking of meeting people struggling every day for food and water and love.

Over here it’s urgent to look your prettiest, be the best, have the best clothes.

And then you go to this country and realize that what’s urgent is the need to be warm.

It's urgent to be clean and sanitary here.

There its just a feat to not have the next small disease that could take a life.

And I feel like I know what I’m going to encounter-- I’ve been to Brazil.

I know Brazil and Peru are two different countries and landscapes and cultures. But they have similar problems. And I don’t expect I get to fix them all in two weeks. But I have a God who’s very concerned with those problems and I’ll go and tell them about that God.

But not really with my words because I can’t

Here its urgent to keep people posted on the next greatest dramas in our lives and we use so many words to convey them. There I’ll just have to use a demeanor. I'll use my eyes and love them with my hands.

And what makes me really sad is what I really just though of was “that’s what she said” because that’s the cheap humor I settle for to keep my life happy and fun because that’s urgent here.

I’ll use my smile.

And I’ll have a heart ready to be broken for these kids. I suspect that when I come back, there’ll be a new sense of urgency in my life. Whereas before I’ve just been lazy, too busy, too--maybe even hurt-- to blog and choose the words to describe the same ole subjects, I have a feeling that when I get back from Peru, it will not be laziness or hurt keeping me from writing. It’ll just be a general speechlessness because I suspect that I’ll be convicted by my God who says, “Sadie, you should have been loving that way long before. Your life should’ve spoken to a different urgency long before.”

God provided this trip for me.

And I know He’s here. And He’s in the closet of Highway 10 fitness just the same as he is in Peru. But I just expect especially to meet Him there. And you can call it a high and I could already suspect that I’ll come down from it and stay pessimistic towards the mission trip mindset or I can choose to believe that He has something to show me there that He couldn’t here. That he can shake things up there the way he couldn’t here. Because I was too lazy or busy or hurt.

He can lay something on my heart there that maybe he couldn’t get through to me here.

I'll leave you with pictures from the last month of life, because it may be all I get the chance to say on the subjects. It has been so much fun, these times with these friends in this place, and I don't begrudge this life in the least.

But when I get back, different stories will be on my mind. I might be speechless, but I don't want to remain so about these kids. About Cuzco. About sweet Zaida. About Vicente and Stephane. Because in so many ways their lives are filled with the right kind of urgent.

But in other ways there is an urgency that is so not necessary. Urgency in a daily struggle to live.

Maybe I’m taking this whole trip too seriously. But I don’t think so.

I’m looking for a broken heart. I am anticipating the Spirit’s movement.

And maybe that’s the main difference between life here and what I expect to learn apart from it.

...Don't Wear It Out

Tonight in my insomnia brought on by a premature nighttime nap that was brought on by staying up until 4:30 to write my paper last night, I give you what I believe to be my best nickname.

On my first day of work, Coco Lopez* got stuck onto my name badge right under "Sadie" and it just sort of stuck. At the time it was just such a relief to realize that I was going to love working with those people and get to know each of them. They have not disappointed.

Well, except for Jordan Bone Thug, my boss, who apparently can't keep records for the life of him and continuously (read: twice) be texting me trying to axe for my address again.

Good thing Coco's got the patience of a caribbean traveler with a few pina coladas down in them.

*It is, so you know, the coconut ingredient we use for any smoothie with coconut involved (Tropicolada, anyone?!)

All is Calm, but Not so Bright

I got home from work to find our neighborhood out of power.

Correction. I found our side of the neighborhood out of power. Let me hear you say "that ain't right." As I am writing on reserve battery and for Evelyn that runs about, um, 3 minutes, I do not know how long we have together on this Christmas Eve.

But this is how I'm going to spend however much time Evelyn has because both parents did not respond positively to my idea to go caroling and they wont let me open any of the gifts under the tree. And the movie theatre shuts down at 7 tonight, ridding us of our usual trusty back up plan for bad weather or really for any time we're looking for something to do.

It's Chrismas Eve!

I already know my favorite gift that I'm giving and the best one I will get, I'm just not at liberty to share yet. But it's very exciting!

Speaking of exciting, tell me this doesn't get you in the Christmas spirit...

It amazes me that Jesus was that at one point, too. A precious baby making somebody's day with a smile. Little did they know. I was listening to Chris Rice's "Welcome to Our World" on the way home from work and these lyrics stuck out to me:

Fragile finger sent to heal us

tender brow prepared for thorn

tiny heart whose blood will save us

unto us is born

So wrap our injured flesh around you

breathe our air and walk our sod

rob our sin and make us holy

perfect son of God

But for that matter, little do I know. The truth is that I can hardly comprehend the big-ness of God, let alone the majesty of his humble birth. Harder still is knowing how to praise God for the simultaneous simplicity and complexity of his love and his grace. Tomorrow marks the day those two things became undeniably real. I want that to make an undeniable change in my life.

Like the difference between a house on this side of the street and a house across the way. Where they can have showers. No, no that's not what I mean. I just want to be lit up. I want to be pumped about God's plan. Because get this:

But when the kindness and the love of God our Savior toward man appeared,

not by works of righteousness which we have done,

but according to His mercy

He saved us,

through the washing of regeneration and renewing of the Holy Spirit,

whom He poured out on us abundantly

through Jesus Christ our Savior,

that having been justified by His grace we should become heirs

according to the hope of eternal life.

(Titus 3:4-7)

Kindness and love toward man appeared in the body of a baby wrapped in flawed flesh and an ancient version of a snuggie. This is especially exciting to me because I love a baby. But most exciting is that his birth created a way for me to be an heir in all of this. I don't have the right to say who else gets in on it-- in the end I'm not even the one making my own case. Jesus is.

So Merry Christmas to us. And thank you, Jesus.

(for the record, so I can remember this moment, it is cold enough in this house that mom is actually wearing flannel. okay?!)

In Which I Am Thankful For A Lot of Things

You might think that a week at home with no real responsibilities might lend itself to some great blogging by yours truly. It is true that I have had a title ready to go like everyday this week (I wish I could remember one now so that my title wasn't so... how you say... straightforward. But, then, you get what you get).

But our wireless internet has been out intermittently (hm-mm, and I've intermittently been playing the Sims and getting "caught up" on the DVR. And caught up with the family and friends, of course. How dare you accuse me of the wrong priorities?!) and even if it was working, by the time I got around to it? Let us just say it was bedtime. It's not like I had all the next day to sleep in. Oh yeah! I did (but 'cept for that one time when I set an alarm and it woke Emily up but I kept right on sleeping. That was unthoughtful of me...).

Entyway. All I'm saying is that the first thing I'm thankful for this season is that our internet has been out intermittently, since because of this Evelyn has mostly sat in the corner observing the life around her as opposed to consuming mine. Which is good, because in this event Dr. Mario was able to swoop in and consume my life. A much nobler undertaking to be sure.

I'm thankful for, dare I say it, Twilight. Sure, it's kept the lady friends of my family out on the back porch with the door shut so I could still function without disturbing them, but I am glad that they've had that retreat. I'm thankful that it's been something to bond us all (even though I have refused to read the books based on the principle that I will not read on break given the oxymoronic tendency of that sentence).

I'm thankful for grandparents visiting. Sometimes visits aren't the most convenient or stress-free or exciting but I was thinking this time around how cool it is to have these figures in my life who love the mess out of their family. So without considering it really, their presence might seem a nuisance or whatever. But if I ever needed anything, they'd be there. For any time I've distanced myself or acted uninterested or overtly blown them off, they still come back and want to know how I'm doing and where I'm headed. So once you consider it, the nuisance isn't really that at all. It's caring. I see a parallel with Jesus there that was unmistakeable this go 'round. Sometimes I get burdened by his presence when he brings the conviction I ask him for or I find his words stale or boring, a nuisance, because it's not how I talk or they aren't how I'm living and I feel like I have to metaphorically clean the house before I can have him in. I blow him off, I tell him I have other plans, I tune out his conversation. But he keeps coming back because that is love. And because Jesus Christ would do anything for me. I'm thankful for that this Thanksgiving. And I'm thankful to grandparents for being that very real parallel in my life.

I'm thankful for Insanity. Not.

I'm thankful for every single one of my dogs. And again, thanks to the flaky internet, there has been ample room for them in my lap. Well, for the little ones, anyway.

I'm thankful for work.

I'm thankful for co-workers.

I'm thankful for southern accents and "thank yous" and "have a great day" and "pleases" and genuine "how are yous" as I get when I'm on the register.

I'm thankful for teachers who still mean the world to me and for the opportunity to serve them. Katie and I got to take a smoothie bar out to Little Rock Christian the other day and I kept joking that it was a modern version of washing their feet like Jesus did the disciples in that we got to serve them on this day. Katie gave me a strange look. I maintain this theory.

I'm thankful for Dad's promotion. But not near as thankful for that as I am thankful for the way he practices medicine in general--genuinely caring for his patients, with patience (except for when they can't get it through their head that it is just a VIRUS!-- sometimes that's frustrating for him...) I am for sure thankful for the opportuntity to celebrate with the entire family (and an entire cow between us all!).

I'm thankful for my Mom's cookin'.

Oh, I'm just thankful for laughter and chill.

I'm thankful for a break. And though there is a certain pit in my stomach reserved only for thoughts of going back and completing assignments and courses (I wish I could just fill said pit with food as I have every other nook and cranny of the organ), I am thankful for school and the opportunity to learn. So as I digest all of this frickin' turkey (mostly just sweet potatoes, let us be real), I do my best to digest with a good attitude the responsibility I have to do these next two weeks well.

I'm thankful for Virginia. I'm thankful for Arkansas.

I'm thankful for Link and Arkie.

I'm thankful for all of the changes that have happened since this time last year to prove many a time my own inadequacy and God's own timing and providence.

I am so thankful for every single one of my friends (those for whom I will serve as a bridesmaid as well as for those who insist we won't be friends come that time. cough Katie Jones cough. I'm also thankful for the gross nasty peach bridesmaid dress I'll be wearing come Sheryl's wedding...)

I am thankful for my camera and the people I get to take pictures of.

I am thankful for board games and families of friends to keep me out until all hours whilst my own family frets over my whereabouts because they care.

I am thankful for a lot of things. Hence, the title.

Sorry for the boring list. I just felt like it should all be stated for the record. And it was a good exercise to combat what Natalie Grant dubbed the "post-Thanksgiving blahs" -- to pump me back up to "real" life come way too early in the morning.

Dulce et Decorum Est

Well, it's Memorial Day, and I couldn't wait to put together an american flag-ridden post. Because that is just how I roll.

Case in point: today I drew American flags on at least 50 smoothie cups and wrote "Happy Memorial Day!" When I cheerfully offered that greeting to customers at the pickup counter, a few acted pretty surprised. At first I figured it's just because they hadn't heard it yet. Well, not from someone-- more like from an annoying mattress commercial using the holiday as an excuse to lure in customers with a sale.

For a lot of people, I figure the fact that it's memorial day hadn't registered. Because, let's be honest, for lot of people (including me) it becomes just a holiday.

A day for hot dogs and burgers.

And parks.

And pools (opening day, no less).

And smoothies (Oh my, I just realized I did not fit in the traditional bomb pop... shame).

All good things. And not inappropriate things since it is a holiday. A day to partake in leisure activities and all things American. Still, this is the one holiday where we are supposed to simultaneously enjoy ourselves and acknowledge the price of that ability to enjoy ourselves. Acknowledge the price.

The more I handed out smoothies with a smile and patriotic "happy memorial day!," the more I thought about what I was saying and who I was saying it to. Sure, some had come from the pool and perhaps hadn't considered the meaning of the holiday. Maybe some had pondered and were surprised that someone else was sincerely recognizing the point of this day off. Those were the scenarios that made me out to look good. You know, the high and mighty one who thought deep and hard and was out to make sure others did, too.

But maybe, just maybe, someone else had considered the day much more seriously than me. Children coming in with babysitters-- maybe their parents are in the military. Maybe the 40 year old man had served in his twenties. Maybe the mom with 3 kids under the age of 5--one on her hip, one wrapped snuggly around her leg, the other with a red ribbon tied in her curly blond hair dancing to the table--just saw her husband off on another tour of duty. Maybe she expects him home in a few days with no idea what to expect. Maybe one of my co-workers is headed off to the Air Force in a few months... well, that one is confirmed. Maybe my roommate is already thinking ahead to a future as a military wife. Maybe my brother has a friend who just died training to serve. The grandfather walking with a cane? Did he serve? The odds say he did. The odds also say a good many of his buddies didn't return with him.

Oh, Sadie, wise one. Probably more people than you know know a lot more about military service than you-- know a lot more about paying tribute, a lot more about paying price. So quit you bellyaching about the people not observing the holiday correctly and worry about honoring those people who know much more than you ever will about the cost.

I stopped addressing people like they were guilty of irreverence and started pretending like each and every one knew something about losing a relative to war-- either physically or mentally. Not happy peppy like I was celebrating better; sincerely, like I meant it.

Because the truth is that I do. I'd like to think I'm not a naive waiver of the American flag. It's not just for kicks. Not because I just feel like it or because I collect them. I don't hold it up out of arrogance or disrespect of anyone else's home country. Matter of a fact, wherever you're from whatever your cause, wave your flag and honor your soldiers. Yes, even you citizens of the enemy state. If it's my right, it should be yours, too. But as long as it is my right, I'm taking the time to thank those who made it their duty to protect that right.

Some not by choice or conviction. A lot by draft and circumstance. Some living, a lot dead. Some believing wholeheartedly in the cause of the American government, a lot strongly opposed. Some following orders, some defying them whenever given the chance. Some truly moved on, a lot forever haunted. Some receptive to recognition, a lot who'd rather soon forget. I recognize that not all believe in war, some don't believe in supporting the troops. Many feel it's a waste of lives and that the U.S. is just prideful. Perhaps I am naive in saying I don't care.

I don't raise the flag because America is perfect or even the best. I don't raise it thinking that some horrible stuff has not gone down on this soil. I don't do it thinking that each soldier was happy to lay down his or her life. I don't raise it as a white woman, a republican or a Christian, or at least not because of those things. I raise it to acknowledge the price. Because I do not want to be the ungrateful spoken of in this common Vietnam veterans' creed:

"We the unwilling, led by the unknowing; doing the impossible, for the ungrateful."

English poet Wilfred Owen wrote the following poem in 1918 about his own experience in WWI. He died on November 4 of that year in the Battle of the Sambre, one week before wars end.

Dolce et Decorum Est

Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,

Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,

Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs

And towards our distant rest began to trudge.

Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots

But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind;

Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots

Of disappointed shells that dropped behind.

GAS! Gas! Quick, boys!-- An ecstasy of fumbling,

Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time;

But someone still was yelling out and stumbling

And floundering like a man in fire or lime.--

Dim, through the misty panes and thick green light

As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.

In all my dreams, before my helpless sight,

He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.

If in some smothering dreams you too could pace

Behind the wagon that we flung him in,

And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,

His hanging face, like a devil's sick of sin;

If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood

Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,

Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud

Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,--

My friend, you would not tell with such high zest

To children ardent for some desperate glory,

The old Lie: Dulce et decorum est

Pro patria mori.

The last line of the poem is latin for "it is sweet and right to die for your country." A lie, according to Owen and, I'm sure, a lot of his comrades. If I'd seen how some of the men and women I'm supposed to be honoring today died, maybe I wouldn't declare with such zest "happy memorial day!" Many don't find war and death sweet and right-- go figure. But this I know: dulce et decorum est quod vox honoro muneris-- it is sweet and right to honor service.