I really wish the church taught me how to be a woman who learned from her failures, instead of pushing unrealistic standards that created a legalistic fantasy of being the perfect wife. What if the Church encouraged me to find mentors who had stories of faith in the midst of turmoil or perseverance in the midst of suffering, not just the highest standard of holy wifehood?
Imagine if those 7 years were spent learning how to become a follower of Jesus instead of the perfect wife.
Read MoreI have been thinking about words a lot lately, specifically Jesus’s words. His words, always perfect and always what we need. In this season we have all been learning that presence matters, listening matters, but when the opportunity arises for us to say something, what matters are the words that we speak.
Read MoreThis week I listened to heart hurt. Sitting in conversation, I could see the hesitation before the outpouring, the pause trying to gauge how much to share. The measurement of vulnerability. I sat and listened, they sat and spoke. And as they spoke, entrusting me with their grief, I felt my heart twist with empathy, tears sat in wait. And their words of hurt connected to words of hurt in my own life. Because grief recognizes grief. We could go into the science of it all, the mirror neurons and physicality of it. But really what it comes down to is this simple truth: if you’re truly loving people well, it’s going to hurt.
There are no getting around it. And while there are few guarantees in life, this, I can assure you, is one of them: You can’t be “all in” on loving people well and get out without feeling the weight of living in a world that is broken.
Read MorePoetry would suit me if I had the patience. But poetry doesn’t need patience, does it? It’s a chunk of words made up of lines that, at first glance, don’t make much sense. They don’t need to make sense to move us, do they? We read last lines, we close books surprised to find our laps wet with tears, our bellies sore with laughter. We don’t know how we got there. The lines don’t need to make sense, they just need to make us dance.
Words are beautiful. They’re the thousands that the pictures are worth. They can say so much with so very little. They take us to places we’ve never been before, they build cryptic mansions, royal castles, enchanting forests, and lives of the kind of people that live wild adventures and fantastic fairy tales.
Read MoreI spend a lot of time alone so I consider myself a professional in this area. Between 2 cross-country moves in 9 month period, I know what it’s like to have limited in-person interactions. I just have never had to do it when everyone else is doing it, too. One thing all this alone time has taught me is podcasts are a strange comfort when the walls feel too close together. Something about being a fly on the wall to a conversation with people I have never met that makes me remember that I’m not alone even when I’m alone.
Today's podcast is from my friend, Brene Brown. I say friend not because we actually know each other but someone’s writing and speaking can’t change your life without you considering them a kindred. There is a community in words, a shared commitment between author and reader.
She’s sitting down with David Kessler, an expert on grief, to talk about “Grief and Finding Meaning.” I’m sitting down with a puzzle that I’ve done a thousand times but will make more challenging by doing all the sky pieces first.
Read MoreYou’re being confronted with a lot of harsh language. You’ve been called a racist, a Trump lover, a bigot, and probably more. You are probably rolling your eyes at all the drama. You are so done with all the reposts and reshares from your friends on social media. You may have even unfollowed some of them. Some moments you’ve been quiet and let the conversation pass by. Other times you’ve jumped with both feet into combat and shared your views and your perspectives. Maybe you were frustrated when your Church posted a black square on Black Out Tuesday. Why did they have to get political?
Read MoreSince that day, I’ve been asking, what if God was in the car, in this meeting, in the kitchen, on this couch? What if He is here as I get a call with the results of a major health issue? What if He is here when a friend breaks my heart? What if He is here when work is overwhelming?
Because if He is, would I act any differently?
Read MoreSensitive, a word that’s described me as since I first learned how to string words together into sentences. I never needed to be disciplined as a kid, a simple stern look of disappointment would send me into tears. Seeing an elephant behind bars at the zoo sent me into a meltdown. Tears would fall on the playground when I was worried I offended a friend. My feelings were easily bruised when teasing went too far. "Sensitive Sara", that's me, who is all too fragile and too easily hurt.
I hate this word. I desperately wish that words like “brave,” “adventurous,” “tough,” “gritty” would replace it.
Read MoreI was in the middle of one of those LONG winded friend phone calls. The kind of calls where you find yourself as a sounding board so you start doing the dishes or finish up dinner or start it. I ended up finding myself with an old set of watercolors and some heavy parchment. Infinite possibilities.
This friend is an old ministry partner. This friend is a wise friend. I started writing what they said. The paints helped me process the weight of their words.
Then out of nowhere, the subject turned to talk about the old ministry I had cared for, I nursed back to health from brokenness, I advocated for, I sacrificed for, I gave up so much for.
Read MoreFive years of marriage has always felt like the big one. Like the first big one, I guess. When I thought about it in the past, I’d dream that we'd no longer be newlyweds, we'd be established in whatever path we'd chosen maybe with a baby or two to show for the years we'd trudged through. As the fifth year creeps up and is no longer just a possibility, I find myself wondering at the woman I was when I met my husband, and the woman I am now. They say a lot can change in a year. Through five of them, we've seen as much. How? In nearly the same amount of time I finished college, I've been through phases that feel like lifetimes ago.
My husband has always intrigued me. Even before we were dating, I could listen to him forever and often would.
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