The Rest of It

On Saturday Noelle asked me to say a blessing over the meal at her wedding.

Her WEDDING.

I really couldn't resist saying something about or to both of them, which is good because Noelle said I didn't have to. I had a whole spiel, but I spared hungry guests from me sharing. Those of you reading need not feel so lucky. Here in black and white is the rest of it (or something like it):

____________________________________________________

Thank you so much for giving me a voice on your special day to try to convey to you what you mean to every person in this room and to me. I don't know that I have the words.

As a matter of fact, you should all know, I initially refused this position. Noelle called me in the hours after Chris proposed and said, "Okay, so, I got asked a big question tonight, but now I have a question for you!" I said, "Okay..." not know what to expect. "Will you be my maid of honor?!" And I said "No!"

"Did you really just say no to me?!"

"Well. Not no, no. Just... me? really?"

I couldn't believe that she would immediately think of me to best honor her through this entire process. But the honor was all mine. And in typical Noelle fashion, she had more confidence in me than I knew to have in myself. She does that for people. And she takes that skill into a career full of treating people like they are good enough just the way they are while she equips them to be better than they knew the could be because she saw the potential in them first.

Noelle and I weren't supposed to be roommates. Statistically speaking, she had about 1,000 profiles to choose from when she decided to approach mine on facebook. So the math was against us. More importantly, we shouldn't have been roommates because we both lied on the roommate questionnaire. She said she loved movies and me? I wrote that I like to grocery shop in my free time. Still, despite the fact that Noelle falls asleep in every movie she starts ever(unless it's How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days) and I let things mold in the fridge before I head to the store, our friendship survived the lies and roommates we were.

The first time I heard of Chris was the week after Noelle's 18th birthday, our freshman year. He missed her birthday and to make up for it, he sent her internet flowers for days. Thus we at UMW dubbed him "Intro" and he remained in our minds that desperate guy madly in love with Noelle. It apparently worked for him.

The first time I met Chris was for Noelle's birthday sophomore year. He wanted to surprise her, so he flew in the day before, which happened to be my birthday. We texted back and forth to get her to the perfect spot to be surprised while I tried to act nonchalant over lunch with Noelle. Despite the absolute delight the entire weekend was, they both apologized multiple times to me for infringing on my birthday celebration (as. if.). It's that sort of consideration that makes them a couple you want to spend time with.

Probably my favorite moment of the entire relationship was the night before Chris proposed when he called to ask my opinion on this and that and to go through the plan with me one more time. Everything from which pants to wear or should he wear a jacket to where should the ring go to should there be music (I can now freely admit before friends and family that I actually thought Taylor Swift's "Love Story" was a good idea...) and was any of this a good idea at all. The one question he didn't ask was in regards to cologne, which he'd picked months in advance.

The next year presented its fair share of challenges for the happy couple. Distance gets in the way of planning a wedding and a life together. And Noelle and Chris had the tell-tale "let me call you back when I'm not so upset about this" moments any tried and true couple knows all too well. But there were also calls to say "I love you" and nighttime devotions to balance out the weight of life. Thus, it wasn't solely a year of challenge. Character marks those days, and it shows in their relationship today.

I'm not married, so my advice is scarce. But I encourage the two of you to find the older couples on the dance floor tonight and recognize that they didn't fall in love with each other's wrinkles and decrepit joints. Once upon a time they were two young people who looked at each other and believed they could do life better together than apart. My mom has a quote posted on our fridge at home referencing her very own Chris that says, "It takes a good husband to be better than none." That's what you are to Noelle, Chris. It's funny, but Noelle is an independent woman. So for her to say that she couldn't and wouldn't want to do life without you speaks directly to your character. That's what you'll be to her in 60 years, I know.

I challenge you to take the time at the weddings of friends and family in the future to dance-- at each step recommitting yourselves to the promise you made today. I know not every day you will feel like taking each other by the hand and twirling, but when there are dogs and kids to be fed, decisions to be made, bills to be paid, and career moves to be discussed, I hope you can remember tonight and the people in this room who came to dance in honor of you.

Thank you for the very distinct honor of watching your relationship happen from the front row. I feel like I speak for every person here when I say "I love and support your marriage."

________________________________________________

I never would've actually said all of that in front of everyone (and given credence to this idea that I must speak for 15 minutes every time someone gives me a platform) but all of these things came to mind when I was thinking up what to say as we fell asleep Friday night-- the last sleepover.

What a fun weekend! I couldn't believe how many times I actually stopped to remind myself to take in that very moment, and so I have so many vivid memories where I expected it all to simply be a blur.

Memories with these people,

and these

Oh! And these.

(who did this:) (with some help)

Back to the point:

More than anything I'm excited. Because now they are in an entirely new chapter. It's chapter where they belong and I can't wait to hear about and be encouraged by it. I'm already encouraged because God has shown Himself faithful through the entire process-- for the Ulmans, yes.

But also to this MOH, who was pleasantly surprised by God's ability to bless in completely new and different ways-- a new roommate, an entirely different living situation, a new job, a closer relationship with Him. God just keeps going, making the seasons of life incomparable, as all of them exist to point to Him-- the attributes that make Him God and not me. Praise the Lord.

And given what He's done so far, I can't wait. For the rest of it.

Going to the Chapel

and their gonna get maaaaried?!?

It cannot be possible that this day has finally come. It's quite surreal, but I can't wait to dive in deep tomorrow. I should go to sleep right now, as even just the anticipation of events is exhausting (and also because I'm sure my health would thank me for the rest in its attempts to rid my body of whatever is causing this head and stomach ache of great proportions)-- but I'm honestly too excited to do it!

My paper is done, my presentation well-thought out and now it's finally hitting me that this is all about to happen. I know it sounds like I'm the one getting married here, so let's clarify.

She is getting married.

The one who just turned 21 on monday and who I hugged in a stairwell as we buzzed in opposite directions just three years ago.

God changed my life when he brought Noelle in. He became the God who could exceed expectations and meet me where I dreamed big. He provided. And he did so in large part, especially in the beginning but even still, through the bubbly blonde from Annapolis with the almost equally crazy family and the spirited smiles and early bedtime.

She is my Timothy-- the one who I'd send in my place in order to be best represented. My sister in Christ. The bride. And as we embark on this weekend of celebration for her and her groom, I just pray that God give them a boldness in going about the first few uncertain months of their marriage.

"For God did not give us a spirit of timidity, but a spirit of power, of love and of self-discipline." -2 Timothy 1:7

And now I really am going to bed, because I've got to get going.

To the chapel!!

Starting Now

More on life as in "event to event" coming soon.

But for now there's just time to convey what I'm learning about He Who ushers the events along.

On Saturday my friends were so fabulous to celebrate with me in the city.

You know the one.

I guess I'm just weird or something because my idea of celebrating was to go to church. Just to put the crazy in crunk birthday celebrating. It wasn't to be high and mighty or cool (especially temperature wise, because the place was hot with people) or in wide open spaces to ring in adulthood (again with the mass amounts of people).

You see, what I love about a wedding is of course the couple and the party and the love and the dreams about the future. But what I really love is that more than anything it is a dedication-- a recognition that for better or for worse, as humans, we are much more prone to mess things up than to admit to fault and make things better. Thus, the marriage is presented as an offering to God-- a promise to give it to Him before giving it up.

I don't have a wedding in sights. But why wait?

Birthdays, like weddings, are about the person and the party and the love and the dreams for the future-- why miss out on the dedication aspect until that one wedding day that will go by too quickly and for that matter is not even necessarily going to happen simply because it's what I've pictured since I was able to walk down a pretend aisle in a white dress-up dress.

At 21, there is no wedding for me. But there are "I dos" to be said.

Sadie, do you care about poverty?

Sadie, do you care about sadness?

Sadie, do you care about honoring me?

Sadie, do you care to know me more than you know about me?

Sadie, do you want my will in your life? Do you spend time counting the cost?

Sadie, do you commit your fears to me as you wait in anticipation for direction?

"I dos" to be pondered. Commitments to be made. Especially as a single 21 year old anticipating adulthood.

So I took the attention and the love and the company and the well-wishes and the gifts and the party intended for me to the alter to leave it there for Him-- careful not to be foolish enough to think that I've earned or deserved or been entitled to the absolute privilege of a life I've been able to live for 21 years.

It's been a gift.
An unexpected gift.

I got to tell God that I don't expect these fabulous things from Him in order to continue to love Him and enjoy His plan and delight in His promise that He has something much better not only for me (after all, I already have it pretty good) but also for the people who really need better. Who live without enough. Love, water, resources, access, care, strength, life.

I've got love, water, resources, access, care, and strength. I even have life. 21 years of it.

What I want is to have these things in such abundance that they spill into the lives of deep, admitted need.

I want the humility of recognizing my own areas of true need, not wasting time with surface level complaints regarding temperature or taste or smell or personal preferences that are okay, but not what I'm ultimately convinced of... that ultimately are not my hope.  I want to give voice to truly convicting things and to glorifying the God who does something with those convictions.

I want life. Not time, necessarily.

I want to remember that my time is limited, that the next day is not guaranteed to me and that even if it was, there is no guarantee that my life as a quantitative whole would mean something.

I want to be as desperate as those in physical need in my approach to God, asking that He grant spiritual life to my days. And in the process I want to help meet those physical needs.

As Mark Batterson preached on Saturday, I want to make worthy complaints to the One who can do something about it. I want the petty complaints out of my daily conversations-- bigger picture: I want the me out of "my" life.

The Old Testament book of Habakkuk is all about the minor prophet getting upset by what he sees in the world and asking God to do something already. So then God said, in essence, "you're not going to like it." The Lord says that comfortable had to look a little worse before change would look a little better.

And as Habakkuk looked around at injustice and terrible quality of life around him, he coupled his worthy complaints with reverent resolve to do something about it, knowing that ultimately God would bring change and that ultimately his joy and strength was the Lord, not the circumstances in his own life or the lives of others.

And he said all of this with stringed instruments, in praise.

Part of complaining about the right things-- the things that break God's heart, too-- is appropriately appreciating all that I do have. Being thankful for the good I see provides the motivation to confront the less desirable things. It also means recognizing it while I have it, knowing full well that with or without the "good", God would still be good.

I don't do stringed instruments so much. I do pictures, though.

So with my 21st birthday commences "365 days of thankfulness"-- a picture for every day to convey my appreciation for life as I seek out God for life. It focuses on my own life for the express purpose of me recognizing that I have so little to complain about. It also reminds me that those complaints I do encounter in my daily thought life belong with God and not mixed in with a world struggling with worthy complaints. 

Day 1:

I'm thankful for sunflowers.

I'm thankful that they only stay fresh on the table for one week and make you stop and appreciate their beauty while it lasts.

I'm thankful for Noelle (who bought them for me on a weekend intended to celebrate her) and the beauty of college living with her while that lasted.

I'm thankful for the many things she and the sunflowers have in common-- most notably, the ability to brighten my day.

Also I'm thankful for the unexpected blessing that they both were.

Smith, Party of 7

In typical Sadie-always-forgets-about-her-camera-upon-returning-to-school fashion, I have zero pictures to illustrate the introductory days of my senior year.

That's actually a lie-- I have one picture that Katie and Claire took of me sacked out Tuesday morning. But then there's drool and that's awkward and doesn't nobody need to see all of that.

Dad and I were, for the most part, slap happily sleep deprived. One of us slept while the other drove so we didn't see much of each other, even within the confines of my sportscar.

Why the exhaustion, you ask?

Oh, just a little thing called a BABY!

More specifically, a little thing called Truett.

I am, of course, not nearly as exhausted as the two who formed this new little family. And the little bit of sleep deprivation I did endure was, hands down, worth it.

I didn't think I'd get to meet this little man. I mean sure I harassed him to COME ON WITH IT through voice messages and texting and in person every time I thought about it in the month leading up to his birth (don't worry, I always ended with "... but I'll love you unconditionally anyway.") But then on Thursday Dr. Simmons was all like, "this baby isn't coming within the next week" and hope was lost. It was actually kind of nice to have a definite "no" and set my mind to packing up for school, resigned to meeting Truett over my fall break.

Then along comes Friday afternoon, when Mom and I are trying to pump ourselves up to a last minute Wal Mart run by laying around watching Project Runway on the couch (likely strategy, I know) and Steph calls questioning whether or not she'd just experienced her water breaking. After Mom assured her 9 different times that this was indeed happening, we squealed for no shorter than 5 minutes and tried to ourselves comprehend that this was, indeed, happening. Pretty soon we kicked ourselves into high gear, no Project Runway required this time.

Critically, Emily and I called Steph to sing "I'm Coming Out," as if from Truett's point of view. We wanted the world to know, we had to let it show! 

The thing about *almost* grandparents, apparently, is that they experience some type of weird relapse to their roles 30 years prior at the onset of labor (28 to be precise. And by precise, I do mean to the day). Mom kept suggesting things all frantically and Dad would be reassuring and accomodating and all "what do you need me to do?!" Thoughts like, "Oh no, the room isn't ready" and "I didn't even get to paint my toenails" come rushing back to the new grandmother as naturally as they came with her own labor.

But this time her children get to laugh at her.

We beamed as we entered Chic-Fil-A and then again when we showed up at the hospital.

We beamed pretty much everywhere we went the entire weekend, despite exhausted exteriors. Luke and Stephanie included.

I might still be beaming.

We laughed a lot and prayed a lot and listened to Selah a lot and waited a lot.

I remember hugging Luke and saying (just hours after his 28th birthday had come and gone), "next time I see you, you'll be a dad."

And then at 5:08 a.m on August 21st.

Christopher Truett Smith.

7 pounds, 9 ounces and 20 3/4 inches of great.

With his precious nose and tiny toes and big feet and the most adorable little profile.

Okay, am I right?!

Maybe I'm just biased, but the kid is awesome and club-can't-even-handle-him-right-now kinds of great. After 17 hours of adoring the brilliance of God's handiwork, I certainly couldn't handle it anymore. So I drove a thousand or so miles away.

Or at least that's how we're spinnin' it. School was a minor factor.

Aaaaaanyway, that's the way we became a party of 7, and I can't get over getting to be a part!

Happiest

Katie got me thinking about something in her recent post.

And then thinking about it more when we went to see Eat Pray Love tonight.

Life. A combination of the big picture and the little things.

There is a lot about true selves and real happiness and the like in Julia Roberts's latest flick. Taking adventures and shaking things up kind of stuff. She's looking for a way out of her life, a way to find perspective, so she goes traveling.

Here's my thing. Unlike the character Liz, I'm not looking for a way out of my life. But in my own personal ventures, I am finding that I am happiest when I am out of my comfort zone. I'm most drawn to people not like me. I feel for the people who don't have the love and support I was born into. I feel like they don't need my pity, but would most appreciate my understanding. And for some reason I think I have an extra dose of that understanding built into me (where doses of other things are missing, mind you).

Compassion. Without action is simply emotion.

See, I find myself most often trying to shake feelings of sympathy or squashing the courage I begin building to approach an issue. So ideas get put down in my mind before they come close to action.

It's not my fault the world is that way. It's their fault for not making something of themselves. I can't be blamed for being born into better circumstances. I'm not doing anything wrong here.

These are ways I try to drown out thoughts of actually helping things.

Excuses. They sound so terrible written in black and white because they are that terrible. They are a way of saying "no." And they sound fine and reasonable in my head, but written plainly like that I can see them for the sin that they are. Could there be anything more frustrating to God than a Christian prepared with excuses?

I don't know. I'm not Him.

Which is something that always comes back to surprise me when I can't come up with a way to help people and step out of my comfort zone on my own. All I can do is toss around a few ideas in my mind that never come close to fruition because by myself I can offer about as much as emotion.

Compassion, the kind that makes a difference, really is prompted by God-sized ideas and opportunities. Which I feel like He'd go ahead and offer me if I weren't so armed with reasons to say "no."

My family is here. I'm happy here. It's too hard to be depended on. I can't handle that. I'm young and dependent on support from home. It's not safe. I'm afraid.

Of what, Sadie?

Being happiest? Didn't you just admit you're happiest outside of your comfort zone?

Well, yes. Yes I did. What is that about?

But, Lord, there's nothing wrong with here. I don't do anything wrong here.

I've been reading Mark Batterson again lately and he reminded me yesterday that you can do nothing wrong with your life and still do nothing right.

For me the big picture is easy to see. I'm an idealist, after all, and we don't have a problem envisioning the way things should be. And it doesn't take up too much of my imagination to find a way that little things (even the big little things) can be reconciled to the eventual bigger, ideal picture.

I can go from little things to big picture and back to seeing big picture in little things faster than you can say "carpe deum." Things that have already happened? Well but of course they will add up to a number greater than the sum of the parts and a beautiful image will be made of the pieces.

But the future? It's harder for me to know how to make the little things add up to the big picture I'd like my life to end up looking like. Where to go from here to end up where I want to be? I like outside of the comfortable, but I don't want to be irresponsible. I love venturing off, but am very aware that I'm only able to do so because of the many ways my family supports me from home. Unlike Liz, I feel like the big picture perspective comes pretty easily to me-- it's the making it jive with decisions about my future or how I choose to treat people every day that perplexes me.

I'm good at the doing nothing wrong.

But what about the something right? What about the flourishing?

What if I mess something up? What if I make a mistake? What if I upset someone? It's like to me each little thing has to reflect the big picture (the ideal, if you will) and I'm so afraid of each piece not mirroring the perfection of the bigger picture-- the part where everything is redeemed and taken care of and harmonious-- that I cease to take advantage of my resources and well-wishing emotions to act with compassion.

I love different people. I love different places. I love that my God does not depend on my circumstances and I love the little bit of that theory that I've had the privilege to find tried and true. I know that He is big picture-- the redeemer, the provider, the giver of peace. And I'm determined to find Him in the little day-to-day of life around me.

What scares me is to turn around on my life and not see Him in the little things about my own life. Do the little things about my life point to redemption and care and peace beyond circumstance? Oh, God, I wish they would. That's what I'm concerned about.

And that is why I'm packing my bags and loading up my little red sports car sunfire on another little adventure to a place where the bigger picture seems to make its way into the every day with a little less interruption.

It's not about getting away from my life, it's about really getting into it.

And with graduation approaching the only real question on my mind is, "where to next?"