Cracking the Closet Door...

Day 2 of getting to know me a little bit better has come.

I try to hide this part of me...but what I'm going to show you is basically a major hub of my life.  So, even if the door is closed, chances are if you are at my house for more than ten minutes, you will see into the heart of my home.  My power station...

My downstairs closet.

It holds EVERYTHING!  Go ahead...play I Spy here.

Can you find...

A crock pot?  How about 4?

At least 20 Pyrex dishes?

Painting supplies?

A dirt devil?

A vacuum?

My preschool supply box for the kids I babysit?

Scissors?

Glue?

Paper?

A tool kit?

Envelopes?

Old family photos?

A power drill?

About 7 Thirty One bags that I use for grocery shopping?

Extra table cloths?

Yeah, you name it, it's in this closet.  I sort through it about four times a year.  I even have had friends clean it for me.  But no matter how hard I try, I can not keep this place clean!  It drives me crazy, because as mentioned before, this is the HUB of my home.  This closet is where everything important is stored.

Believe it or not, I am selective about what goes in here.  And truthfully,  I'm pretty awesome at purging or throwing things out.  (Except for crock pots and Pyrex dishes...because they are awesome and I use all of them...sometimes all at once!)
So, who has advice for me?  How can I tackle this closet?  How can I improve my usage and storage.  I need this place to be functional so that I can be my best.
Also...do YOU have a place like this?  Please, tell me I'm not all alone here!

Little Birdies

Today, we are celebrating my 150th Blog Post!  Yay!  Thank you for journeying with me!  

To celebrate I am taking on a five day blog project.  Each day I'm going to take a picture of something in my house, and tell you the story behind it.  I share a lot about my life, but there is still so much to tell you.  :)

Today's item is a little one that is probably overlooked by everyone else that comes in to my home.  Honestly, I don't even know if David even notices it.  But I do. It sits right about my kitchen sink...and always has in the three houses we've lived in since were were married.  

Mr. Bluebird.  He was a gift from our dear friend Erin when David and I wed.  He's simple, beautiful, and classic.  And, because of the wedded bliss promised from a legend about bluebirds---he's always been a symbol of my love for my husband and our life together.  

My marriage is  a priority for me, and this little fella reminds me of that daily! 

So a couple of follow up questions---if you have been to my home, have you ever noticed this little birdie?  And, what do YOU have in YOUR home that reminds you of your priorities?

Where's Sarah

I am a mess.
I will never deny that.
That's why yesterday's blog about Jesus' love was so important.  Because, Jesus loves me even when I mess up.
And, as it turns out, so do my friends. :)
Let me tell you a little bit about this morning.

I babysit S & T.  S is two years old, soon to be three, and T is 6 months old.  They are the cutest little guys, and on Thursdays they are my only kids that I watch.  So, on Thursdays, we get to do things we would not normally be able to do, like go out to breakfast.

The night before, my friend Natasha, had texted me and we made plans to meet at the cozy little breakfast place in town.  It's her favorite restaurant, and it has become one of my favorites because of her.  The boys were coming later today, so we had planned on leaving my house at 8:30.  It was going to be a perfect morning.

UNTIL---she shows up at my house.  My car was in the driveway, but no one was answering her knock at the door.  There was no noise or movement coming from the inside and she started to worry.  Assuming I had walked to the diner with the boys Natasha leaves to go check the diner.  That's when Justin, the boys' dad, arrives to drop them off.  He finds the same thing...a quiet house with no Sarah.

As Natasha realizes I'm not at the diner, and Justin realizes I'm not answering the door, the text messages and phone calls begin. They met each other on my front porch and tried to think of where I could be or what may be happening.   Phone calls to my cell phone, the house phone, my closest friends, my mother, my grandmother---they blew up those phone lines in my area.

Automatically, their minds drifted to the worst.  Obviously, I was dead somewhere, and someone was going to have to find me.

Except, I wasn't dead.  Just dead tired.  And deaf in my left ear.  And the owner of a cell  phone that had a drained battery.  Yup.  I was upstairs in my room, peacefully sleeping, on my right side, with my deaf ear up.

 I had no idea I was even missing.

I slept through all the phone calls, all the people in my house, everything...
I was in dreamland.  To make it better, I was dreaming about finding T's missing binkies---which I'm always on the search for!

The world had never been happier for me to wake up.  I had never been more humiliated.  I really hate messing up.  Especially when it comes to messing up for people I really love and cherish.

I can't believe God blesses me with friends who love me even when I sleep like a rock when I'm supposed to be up and productive.  I can't believe they were not irritated at me, but rather, just so thankful I'm alive.

So, it turns out that maybe, just maybe there are people in our lives who reflect Jesus' unconditional love.  Like my friends.  They rock.  Even when I don't!

Love

Last weekend I attended the MOPS International leadership conference, which has affectionately been named "MomCon."  While I was there, I heard from amazing speakers, bought life changing books, and felt a rekindling from God that I so desperately needed.  But, as I reflect over my weekend, the most powerful moment was in the car ride, on the way home.  The entire ride home was such a blessing to me...each woman sharing their reflections and their take-home points.  We poured out our hearts about sin, struggles, encouragement and hopes for the future of our ministry.  But, THE MOMENT came for me out of one simple sentence from my friend Jenny.

I do not know what we were talking about or how it came up, but Jenny simply said, "Oh I love Jesus so much."

Now, back when I in high school, while most girls were scribbling their boyfriends' names on the front cover of their notebooks, I was writing my Lord's name down.  In fact, I remember one time in tenth grade health, the student teacher looked down at my nerdy front row desk with my notebook covered in hearts and the name of Jesus and asked me who "Jesse" was.  I was horrified, because an upperclassman named Jesse was in my class, and I quietly responded, "It says Jesus, not Jesse."  Oh, I was so in love with Jesus.  I would write his name, daydream about him, risk public humiliation for him.

When I heard Jenny proclaim her love for Jesus, it startled me.  When was the last time I had proclaimed out-loud with the passion that she had  that I desperately loved my Savior?

Fast forward a couple days later, to a typical Monday night at our house.  We were eating dinner, and my Papa Pete was spending time with us while my Gram was at Bingo.  Papa loves to talk about the past and his horses and the work he did logging the woods when he was young.  He was telling me that once he had built a loving and caring relationship with his horses, they were so easy to keep in line.  He said, "It was like their love for me made them want to please me."

Do you see where I'm going with this?

Somehow along the way I went from a girl passionately obsessed with Jesus, the man, his character and his love, to a woman who was stuck in the rut of obedience. Obedience does not earn love.  In a slow, quiet change, I went from experiencing Jesus  and his love to trying to earn it.  I had forgotten that, unlike the people in this world, Jesus will love me no matter what I do. I traded in simply loving and being loved for the feeling that I had to earn God's love. What a bum deal! I had quit allowing myself to be swept away by God's love and just letting me proclaim for the world how much I love Jesus.  And the thing is, I forgot that when you are completely smitten with your Savior, obedience just pours from you...not because you feel like you have to obey God, but simply because your love makes you want to obey him.

I'm going to be really honest here and say that I'm not sure what my next step is.  Should I just grab the nearest notebook and doodle Jesus' name like a school girl?  Maybe?  Perhaps I should just sit quietly and meditate on the love of Christ.  It probably wouldn't hurt.  I truthfully am so caught up in "being good enough to be loved," that I'm not sure how to "just be loved."

The next steps for me, just like most things in my life, will require bravery, trust, and faith.  I desperately long for Jesus to sweep me away in His love and I want to lose myself in the wonder of it all.  And, I'm pretty sure, just by the way I feel right now, that's all Jesus needs me to do...is to want to love Him more.  I don't have to do anything else.  "Doing" is how I got in this mess in the first place.

I'm interested in  hearing from you---what do you do to increase your intimacy with Christ?  Do you feel loved no matter what?  Or, like me, have you been felt trapped in the "earning God's love trap?"  Please, feel free to share and we can discuss, encourage, and pray for one another.

Callings, plans, and prayers

It was about a year ago that I had a great idea placed in my lap from my dear writing group friends.  "Hey, why don't we all try to write  50 thousand words and form a  novel for National Novel Writing Month?"  I threw myself in completely and wrote with a passion that I had never felt before.  Each day, I would ignore house work, drink ridiculous amounts of coffee, and write until my vision blurred and my fingers bled.  I was a writer.  Even more than that...I was an author.

Within months, I had a publisher, and shortly after that I had a book.  It was so fast, so miraculous, and to be quite honest, even though the days felt hard, it was easy...really easy.

So, here I sit with less than a month before "NaNoWriMo" starts, and I'm committing to writing again.  I am not delusional enough to believe this time will be easy.  I know I'm working this year and my schedule is tighter.  I know I'm more intimidated this year (especially as I've learned more about the publishing process).  And truthfully, I'm just simply more"in the know" this year.  There is truth in the old adage "ignorance is bliss."

Last year, NaNoWriMo was blissful for me.  This year, I'm fully anticipating a battle.  But, I'm a strong person and a brave writer.  I have a message welling up inside me that I need to share.

But, the question I want to ask you is are you supposed to be joining me?  One of my favorite quotes is from Crystal Evans, "Some readers will only hear, understand and accept certain things when they read it in your words, from your perspective, written in your voice.  We were each created by God to do our part.  And if we fail to do it because we don't think it's valuable enough, great loss will be suffered.  Someone, somewhere, needs you---in all of your uniqueness---to step up to the plate of your calling."

Powerful stuff.  Things to pray over.  I'm asking God to clearly lead you to your voice, you mission---because he may just have a story stored up in your heart.

Please, leave a comment if you are considering writing for the month of November.  I want to pray with and for you.  And, if you are not feeling that calling, will you please partner with me in prayer?

BLOCK PARTY!

I want to be an awesome neighbor.

I love my little town and I feel a passion for living in a purposeful way to connect with my neighbors, friends, and loved ones.  I want to know my neighbors' favorite dinners, their dogs' names, and their birthdays.  I want to encourage them, wave at them, cook for them, and help them have happier days.  As soon as someone moves into a house I can see from my front or back porch, I develop an automatic affection for them.  They become "my people."

But, I'm learning as time goes on that being a good neighbor is sort of...weird.

And the last thing I want is for my neighbors to call me the "weird lady in the yellow house."

When we first moved into this neighborhood, we had an automatic connection with two other families.  We were all homeschooling, stay at home moms.  Our kids were all around the same age, and they played together for hours a day, and since the children were so young and needed adult supervision, we three moms usually had many hours of summer chit chat in a day. 

Now a days, those neighbors live in different houses, and my status as a homeschooling mom has changed.  Most of the houses around me have new occupants, and I'm not even sure I really know some of my neighbors names.  And while I'm still at home, I'm a working mom, spending 10 hours a day caring for other people's children and the rest of the day caring for mine  (oh, and writing at naptime!).  Physically getting outside of my home with two toddlers and a baby takes work and planning, and everyone else has work and plans too.  Life is hard.  Being a good neighbor is tough.

So, I guess what I'm trying to say is...I wish being friendly didn't seem so foreign in our culture.  I wish that being kind and inviting someone into your home didn't seem like such a risk. 

But, I'm a pretty brave girl, and I don't mind taking risks.  So, in a few weeks, I'm going to take a big one---I'm having a block party!  I tried it once, and it went okay.  I'm attempting again, and I hope that it will be awesome!  (I'm an optimist, what can I say?!)  So, my dear readers...I need input...If your neighbors were having a block party, what would you want there?  Any ideas, suggestion, and input are welcome and valued!  I just want to be a blessing to those we live around! 

Be You Bravely

                It’s not a metaphor.  I quite literally will not take the plunge.  At least a half a dozen times I’ve stood at the side of the pool, imagining what it would feel like to let myself step off the edge, and plunge deep into the waters.  I know logically, I have nothing to fear.  My body, naturally buoyant, would float.  Anyways, my husband or my friends are always there, ready to help me if something should happen and I start to drown.  I let me own children do it, over and over again, yet there is something about it holding me back.  I have thought about the fact that it may hurt, just physically jumping off the side, but pain has never held me back much.

                Even though there’s a part of me that is ashamed of myself for not allowing myself to just go for it, there is another part of me that says---if this was a metaphor, it would be a lie.  I am brave, fearless, heroic, and courageous.   I take risks.  I do dive in, metaphorically, anyways.

                I am living a transparent life, where I am in no way pretending I’m perfect.  Anyone who reads my blog or follows my Facebook page or comes in contact with me knows that I’m just a girl who loves Jesus very much who is trying to do the right thing, while being unsure of myself and how to overcome my sins.  I’m someone who tries to boldly extend grace, just the way it has been given to me.  Deep in my heart, I know my own convictions, and I do my best to live the way God has called me to.  That is rare and few people are honest enough to live life this way.  I am brave.

                Every morning, I wake up a woman who is prone to anxiety.  I get worked up about everything---from mice to nuclear bombs and spiritual warfare.  One of my first thoughts every morning is “I can’t believe I made it alive to live another day.”  I constantly wonder if I may die and what would happen to my children and husband and parents.  Who would ever love them the way I do?  I feel my heart race and my palms turn clammy and cold as my mind imagines what it feels like as death overtakes your body.  Yeah, I know I’m morbid, but these are my thoughts.  This is my reality.  I face and refute these fears every day, with the truth of God’s word.  So, even though I face fear nearly every moment of my life, I am indeed fearless.

                I love people.  I risk getting my heart broken everyday by juggling many valuable relationships.   I try to encourage, help, and hug whenever I can.  I overlook offenses that cause others to demand worldly justice. I also care for other women’s children day in and day out.  I keep those babies safe, hug them, love them, wipe their spit off of me, and carefully clean their bottoms.  I comfort them while their mommies are out changing the world in their own particular ways.  I’ve taken what most would consider a menial job and made it a passion, my mission.  In a world that often gives way to isolation, I’m committed to befriending, loving, forgiving, and caring for people.  Because of this, I am heroic.

                So, maybe the next time I go to the pool, I’ll jump off the side.  But, chances are, I never will.  And I’m mostly okay with that.  Because, I’m no coward.  I’m a bold woman who faces one risk after another day after day---and let’s face it---I can’t do everything.