Grandma's Goal

    My Grandma has been in the hospital since January. That's 6 months now. When she went in for surgery on her hiatal hernia the doctor nicked a part of her bowel and the whole area got infected. The doctor then went in to remove the graft they put in, since it was infected, then he nicked another portion of the bowel during that surgery. It's amazing she is still alive. A fistula formed between her bowel and the skin. She has been in the hospital waiting for it to heal without another infection. The terms I was studying in my medical terminology book was spilling into my life with every phone call from home.

    I was finishing up my last semester in college when all of her surgical procedures happened and a large part of her healing process. I felt so disconnected and useless. I called once on her birthday, but as I was applying for my internship, studying for tests, and working, I only made time for grandma in my prayers. The things that I felt were nothing compared to my grandma's life were consuming my time.

   I felt disconnected in other ways too. So many good things were going on in my life. I got engaged, passed my four year comprehensive test, got and internship, graduated from college, and yet when I called home it was more bad news. Grandpa had cancer, got his bowel removed, and now has to change a bag for the rest of his life. Grandma's medicine was making her memory go and  she was very depressed. The people that made up the largest portion of memories in my life were slowly going downhill, and I was far away from it all. 

   Once I graduated, I came back home to plan the wedding, finish up a class, and get everything ready for my internship. The first time I visited grandma when I got back home she was doing well mentally and was in high spirits. Her wound had about a 1/2 inch to heal upwards over a large portion of her abdominal area, but she was making progress. The next time I visited she was discouraged and depressed. She thought she would never make it out of the hospital. The following time I came she thought that I surprised her and that I just got back from college. She hadn't remembered my visits before. I just got off the phone with her and she was asking me about the large gash that I got when I flipped the lawn mower on a bank where it rolled over me (praise God the blades were not facing me). She remembered that from when I visited her last. She told me she misses watermelon and being in a home and riding in a car- the simple things in life.

My Grandpa holding Grandma to comfort her.

   I am amazed with my grandma. She is truly a remarkable woman by hanging on so long to one day becoming better and walking out of the hospital. She inspires me to keep going in my everyday ho hum tasks of life. I thought I didn't have an impact on her and that she was so far away only my prayers would reach her, but through it all I found that, even though every visit was different, she has always told me, "I want to make it to your wedding." There are signs on her hospital wall that say things like, "Eat, drink, and walk to make it to your goal- Sarah's wedding." The whole time I was away I had no idea that she had made my wedding her goal. The doctor already gave her a one day pass for July 15th and I am so blessed to know that my grandma will be there supporting me in just another special way.

 

My Best Friend

I always want to be with him. He makes me laugh when he talks in funny accents at the grocery store and makes puns on just about everything he hears. He does the dishes and opens doors for me because he loves me. Sometimes when I am busy he comes up behind me and gives me a bear hug and smothers my cheek with kisses. He stands up for what is right and is a spiritual leader. He let me cry on his shoulder when I found out my Grandma might not make it. He listens to me when I talk about my day. He gets me a single rose every Friday with a special note attached. I can sing freely around him and say what's on my mind. I love him, and I thank God for giving me such an amazing best friend.

Trampoline Summers

When I was a little girl I used to lye on my trampoline what seemed to be all summer eating saltines, apples with cinnamon and sugar on them, and drinking strawberry juice. I would watch the clouds pass by in familiar shaped objects like bunnies and balloons. I loved those blue skies and sunny days. Summer felt so long and so rewarding.

Now when I look up at the sky in short intervals through windows of class rooms or rushed walks to the next place I have to go to the clouds are stratus-shaped or cumulonimbus clouds. On rare occasions they are shaped like kidneys or femurs, but never bunnies or balloons...

I don't wish it back. I can't quite put a finger on it, but this is the summer that I define my childhood summers as. It might be the independence I felt in being the boss of my day. I could eat what I wanted, wear clothes three times in a row, dig holes with my dog, climb trees, catch toads, or just lye on the trampoline and watch clouds pass by in great fascination. It could possibly be that time made no difference in my day. I had no meetings to attend, no planes to catch, or work to go to. Or it might have been because there was no school. I didn't have to read any chapters in my Medical Nutrition Therapy book, or study for an exam on Monday, or meet hard deadlines for papers.

I was free.

Letting God be God.

Money. It's a crucial part of life and I hate it.

This semester I am not living in the dorm (woo hoo!), but paying rent isn't exactly my favorite thing to do the first of the month. I guess living off campus has given me a better understanding of the position I find myself in.

Three words: poor college student.

The purpose of this blog is to focus on the first word: poor. Believe me, I am not writing this to get hand-outs or promote awareness of my condition; My mother already knows so I am set.
I am happy to find myself in this situation. Naturally to avoid going deeper into debt I am working a couple of jobs. One employer recently told me they had no budget to pay for me grading their papers for their class, but still wants me to do the work. The original agreement was not very attractive in the first place...

Employer: “you will be paid to work in the FitZone, and you can grade the pa

Me: “oh wow! Yeah that sounds great. So essentially I am getting paid double at one time?”pers for my class and another professors class”

Employer: “No, you do both jobs but get paid for one. Although, when you have a lot of papers to grade and go over the time of your FitZone shift you can get paid for the time you go over to grade the papers,”

Me: “Oh, I see. Sure, if it helps you out I will do it.”

But now it's just volunteer hours...

Employer: “we have no budget to pay you for working over.”

Me (thoughts: I should have seen this coming...)

Employer: “So could you get all this grading finished within your shifts this week?”

Me: “I understand. I will try my best.”

Anyways...I digress. I guess what I was getting at was now I am doing charity work along side needing charity. It's a good thing, really. It keeps me humble.

Senior classes are hard and with work and soccer (which recently finished!) on top of that is a struggle, but I am not writing this to complain. I know others are in my very shoes walking around with the same weight.

It has been tight. Having enough money for rent, groceries, gas, and unexpected things that come up during the month is hard to stretch over a small paycheck. This last month was especially hard, but I had figured everything out. I was barely going to scrape by with a full stomach, the gas above empty, a place to stay in, a few pennies in the bank, and oooh no! Tithe! I forgot about tithe.

I had to choose whether or not I was going to give tithe...The math was not adding up. It made no sense to give it. I mean God would understand, right? He wants us to use our logical thinking... he wants us to stay out of debt...hmm... but I know I should give. It was a struggle, but I gave. It didn't solve the problem as soon as I gave, but somehow I made it through. People inviting me to lunch when I didn't have any food, discovering a local pantry that gives free food, and even some people taking the time to listen to me when I was emotionally and mentally spent, and of course these verses: “Therefore do not worry, saying, 'What shall I eat?' or 'What shall we drink?' or 'What shall I wear?' For after all these things the Gentiles seek, For your heavenly Father knows that you need all these things, but seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things shall be added unto you. Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about its own things. Sufficient for the day is it's own trouble.” - Matt. 6:31-34.

I think it is important for us to let God be God. How can we know that he is right along side us when we never give him the opportunity to reveal himself? If we never trust in him fully how can we say we have a strong relationship with him? Trust comes through experiencing his power and his willingness to support us with all that we need. He wants us. He wants all of us.

Based on Mark 12:43-44. The widow's two mites. Jesus: “assuredly, I say to you that this poor widow has put in more than those who have given to the treasury; for they all put in out of their abundance, but she out of her poverty put in all that she had, her whole livelihood.”

I want Jesus to say that about me. I love the line, “her whole livelihood.” All that she has worked for, all that she stands for, all her worth, and all that she knows she gives to Jesus.

Step out and let him catch you. If I didn't I would never have felt his warm embrace and his solid grip he has on me.

Soccer Reflection

I have learned no matter how hard you try there is always someone better, and there is always someone to take your place. We are replaceable. So what makes a player invaluable?

I have dedicated most of my life to the game of soccer and I feel in a sense cheated. I feel like there was some sort of return that I missed out on. When I was younger I spent hours in my backyard kicking a blue and white ball. What for? Why did I let my free time turn into juggling, shooting, dribbling, and trapping?

I remember standing in front of my stairs in the winter flicking the ball up the first step, then challenging myself to hit the second step, then the third step. I would go

all the way to the top of those 13 steps and when I messed up I started all over again. Then I would do it with my left foot.

I would takes cones and set them up in a zigzag. I would dribble around each with a different move and shoot at the kick-board my dad built me. If I messed up I would do it over and over again till it was perfect. Often I missed the board entirely which happened to be on the edge of a gully so I would run down and get the ball and sprint to the top as fast as I could.

I had a book called Cobi Jones Soccer tips. I read it and took every word as law. He said to get better at juggling start with a balloon and work to a beach ball and then to a volleyball and finally to a soccer ball. I did every step religiously. I practiced every day I could. I would set a goal each night and try to beat the goal I set the night before. I told myself, “tonight I will get 80.” I stayed out until I got 80. Sometimes it was really dark and my mother would call me inside. I would tell her to go back inside because I will be in after this try. She would turn on the porch light and I would juggle and juggle and juggle until she took the ball away. I got so angry and frustrated with myself for not reaching my goal.

I learned what I did wrong and I practiced obsessively to change my errors.

When I learned how to shoot properly I mimicked the technique

without a ball until it became instinct for both my right and my left.

I lived and breathed soccer. My room's ceiling slants down like a goal does and we put net wallpaper on that side of the room. My carpet was the closest to turf I could find. The walls had soccer balls stamped on the lower half which was broken up by a boarder of a soccer player dribbling the ball, and to top it off the top portion of the wall all the way to the ceiling was blue with clouds- mimicking the perfect soccer day. My bed spread was white with black soccer ball on it with ma

tching pillow cases. I also had soccer ball string-lights hung up.

I started playing when I was 7 years old. I had a short bowl cut for a hair style. I played with the boys. I remember my coach asked my mom if her son had ever played.

After that year I played with girls and my coach talked to my parents about me having a natural talent.

I continued playing soccer in the summer and fall until it was my turn to play in 7^th grade. I managed the modified team when I was in 6^th grade just to watch the team and be in the atmosphere.

The team I played with my 7^th grade year went on to win every game we played. I got my picture in the newspaper kicking the ball.

After that year I got moved up to JV in 8^th grade. I started every game.

9^Th grade I was JV captain and MVP of the team until the end of the year when I was moved up to varsity during their sectional game. I played 10 min. in the sectional game and got my picture in the newspaper beating a girl.

10^Th grade I started most of the games and won a award for making the most assists all season.

I graduated early so my last year of soccer I started every game. Coach was able to put me in the defense, midfield, and forward position at a whim. I was awarded the “Miss Diversity” award.

The two years at Southern I was captain of “Just for Kicks,” an intramural team.

Now I have been on the Cardinals team for two years, and this year as captain.

What does this all mean?

Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

I feel like Solomon saying, “this too is meaningless.”

I cannot believe I have spent my life following, and worshiping this “god.” I feel deceived.

My position was taken from me this year. I am now a forward/outside wing. In the beginning I was not bothered, but every game is a constant reminder that I failed. I feel the jealousy eat away at me and I am sad. I know now that I have been playing for my own glory. It's sad that it took such a blow to get my attention. If this is the fruit of my game I fear I have been motivated by the wrong spirit. I cannot say an outlandish statement such as soccer is bad. I can only say this: the god I was serving was my own passions and desires which have left me empty and discouraged.

Often times people say,"Sarah, you are such a beast," or "Sarah your skills are sick-nasty." Sick-nasty? Beast? hmm perhaps I missed all the warning signs...

So, what makes a player invaluable?

Playing with the right motives and for the right God.

Is there a summit in the valley?

This summer I felt like I was spiritually vacationing. Not in the sense that I skipped town and left all my responsibilities, but rather resting in God's love, finding out what best pleases the Lord, living with like-minded Christians, experiencing a pleasure that you can only have once in a great while. Truly a mountain top experience.

What goes up must come down. I feel like once I arrived at school gravity was in effect. I want the mountain. I want to see the valley below and feel the deep cool wind upon my cheeks, to see the echo of God's word in my actions, and to live with the people who have helped shape my spiritual walk and prayed for my victories. I want the meat of the word that I felt so deprived of before.

As I cried to God for the mountain, I forgot he calls us to live in the valley.

Oswald Chambers book The Love of God, showed me some powerful insights. In the chapter 'Can we come down?' Oswald Chambers points out that spiritual selfishness causes us to want to stay on the mountain. He says that we are made to live in the valley where sin abounds. The valley is where we live for Gods glory, and the mountain is where we see the glory of God. Jesus and Moses come to mind.

To be the most useful to God we must be where the people are. Once in the valley the relationship with God must be evident. Almost like a perfume we put on everyday. It doesn't dismiss us from getting dirty, but rather while we are called to do the lowly things in life that are most humiliating we still give off a beautiful sent that is almost captivating.

It's not going to be easy. I honestly feel like I am in over my head. I feel I'm among a population that wants to be laodicean. They know how to please both crowds and they are very good at what they do. I am having a hard time believing that they will want the truth which I long to live by. I was moved by one sentence Oswald Chambers wrote when he said we are more worried about offending other people than we are worried about offending Jesus.

At first glance the message seems so unattractive. Obedience. Will-power. Discipline. Long-suffering. This is what we are called to exercise in a world that says it's OK to break the rules, it's OK to give in to your passions, it's OK to be “bad” every now and then. I believe the outcome is the real test. Lack of discipline, obedience, will-power, and long-suffering equals what? A society that is obese, with a low attention span, unmotivated, and selfish. The outcome of the followers of Christ are quite the opposite.

As I was reading the chapter in patriarchs and prophets about Balaam I understood more. Balaam, an outsider, looked over the Israelite camp and saw, “the vast extent and perfect arrangement of their camp, everything bearing the marks of thorough discipline and order.” He noted the strict obedience to God that the Israelites were used to following. “He beheld with astonishment the evidence of their prosperity.” Our ways need to be different than the worlds ways. We should be set apart in that sense.

Honestly, I want to find the balance of living in the valley and living like the Israelites- set apart. It is so comforting to know someone did just that, and that we can call on him anytime.

White Sauce and Spiritual Struggles

The Real Me by Nataline grant:

Foolish heart, looks like were here again. Same old game. Plastic smile; don't let anybody in. hiding my heart in. will this glass heart break? How much will they take before I'm empty? Do not let it show. Does anybody know

that you see the real me hiding in my skin broken from within. Unveil me completely. I'm loosening my grasp; there's no need to mask my frailty because you see the real me.

Faded heart, life is behind a mask. Self inflicted circus clown. I'm tired of this song and dance. Living a charade, always on parade. What a mess I've made of my existence, but you love me even now and still I see somehow

that you see the real me hiding in my skin broken from within. Unveil me completely. I'm loosening my grasp there's no need to mask my frailty because you see the real me.

Wonderful beautiful is what you see when you look at me. your turning the tatted back of my life into a perfect tapestry. I want to believe

that you see the real me; hiding in my skin broken from within. Unveil me completely. I'm loosening my grasp there's no need to mask my frailty because you see the real me.

And you love me just as I am. wonderful beautiful is what you see when you look at me.

This is my favorite song. Often I have to be reminded that God sees the inside and loves me still.

Yesterday I had a day off. Off from work and from school. It was relaxing and going to be fun. My sister and I made lunch together and I was assigned to make the white sauce for the meal. I had never made white sauce before and I was excited to figure it out. It seemed easy: whole wheat flour, vegan butter, and soy milk. I started by adding the milk. Then I dumped in a lot of flour and a spoonful of butter. It looked good to me, but my sister looked at me and looked at the sauce and then said, “you know that you shouldn't have added so much flour.”

I didn't hear her words. I heard an inner voice say, “you don't measure up, you are not good enough, you can't even make white sauce right. You are a failure.”



I believed it. I set the sauce off the stove and ran outside. I felt the sun and the tears on my face. Quotes I read the night before in Councils on Diets and Foods were running through my head, “every girl should know how to make bread in a way that is healthy and nutritious for their family” I can't make bread. I can't cook. I fail at so many things. I remembered that I had prayed for patients. I failed at that too. I was without excuses and I was totally exposed. I was guilty of my inadequacy.

So I prayed.

He said I see your effort and I see that you want to glorify me, but above all your efforts I see what I did for you. I love you still. I love you if you fail at making white sauce and baking bread and being patient and even if you fail at loving me back. I will always love you and there is nothing you can do that will stop that.
My soul was utterly captured at the thought of this very different response than I had expected. God wooed my heart and I couldn't help but lose my thoughts in his infinite love and mercy. God is unattainably beautiful.