metanoia

older things

2011-01-04T14:57:00.000-08:00

proteins on a skeleton
I feel the web tangled in my back,
twisting around my vertebrae,
stifling the commands to my legs
to move, to get out and run again,
away from a closed shade room
and pumpkin and the hard wood floors
that show every dent and groove
of every shoe and broken glass.

I feel the spiders crawling
through my nerves, their sinewy blueprints
brought to life between my bones,
their teeth a needle pulling silk thread
through muscles that have atrophied
with encouragement and well-wishes
of those who cannot know.
I don’t blame them for sitting.

I don’t blame them for this resting place
or how they wrapped me solid
in glistening fibers creating a shell
of the person I had not yet become.

catch a falling star and put it in your pocket, never let it fade away…
it echoed now, off the brick walls of the empty alley, in the trash can cushion and broken wooden crates and through the rippling rain puddles that soaked the cuffs of my sagging pants. My mother’s voice rerunning in my head... She had sung to us as kids, trying to sooth our midnight cries switched on by dreams of bloodthirsty clowns and giant cockroaches. She would wipe the hair from our damp foreheads and tell us that stars lit up even the darkest parts of space. She would tell us that love was like stars, able to light up even the darkest parts of life; so bright that everyone can see the love-light shine out of you. She would tell us we were her stars; that she kept pictures of us in her pocket and whenever life got dark for her, she would take out our shining faces and the love-light would break through. But that was when my skin was still smooth and innocent. That was before they told us days after it happened that they found our pictures next to the bathtub, our young faces covered in blood. We never did get the pictures back but I imagine it was the one from the Christmas where I wore my green tie and you cried because you were afraid of Santa Claus. But you moved to Missouri to get married while I stayed and got a job at the pier gutting fish. And I think about my face now with its leather skin and the steel cloud layer that reflects only the city lights. There are no stars here. There is nothing to pierce the metal and the leather. Alone again tonight, I will burn and smolder, becoming an ember—a once bright shining sphere, fading in the murky morning light. When they find me, stardust will be falling out of my pockets.

the night I lost
You touch my hand like Christmas pine
and pull the skin on my wrist to extract a scent,
a sense of wellbeing. Ribbon-wrapped,
I’ll be the first to open.
But wait

and wait

until the day breaks to light
and your socked feet stomp the stair.

O what gift sits there so longing,
so primed for tearing?

Invisible adhesive is no match for fingernails.
They scream at me “I will dig you out yet!"
compensation for your work against boxes.

And as you cling to my edges
and strip me of my paper,
I am thinking of picking apricots from the tree
that grows over my grandmother’s back wall in spring.

to rebuild broken stories
I hang up the phone. It is one of those moments when you can feel life shifting. As if all the components of existence and interaction suddenly become tangible little blocks—the colorful cardboard ones you have as a kid that are so flimsy and yet indestructible because they are so flimsy and the only way you can get them to actually stay stacked is to stack them against a corner so that they have a sturdy support to lean against—you remember…

But this—THIS—is the instant when someone shuts the door too firmly and the fragile paper castle I've built implodes into a pool of red and green and blue and yellow. I no longer have anything to say to the people I once never had to say anything to. The people I couldn't breathe without are now just eyes and ears and bones that sit across from me, sipping away at coffee on a regular Tuesday afternoon after the allure of Christmas break has waned. We hug and touch cheeks and swear to keep in touch, then release and wave goodbye from sunglasses before sliding behind tinted glass and steering wheel and four cylinders in reverse to couch cushion and fresh prince reruns. Did you see Brooke today? Yes mother. How is she? Oh, fine. As if I could go into intimate details of my fading friend's present existence, because intimacy is superfluous porticos on my simple structure, I don't need these balconies and archways, I have my symmetrical box, right?

But here, in the split-second pause between the click of my phone, balancing in my limp left hand, and a sigh… I see the girl who was always like me and his poorly grown facial hair and that dopey smile and the way her chin fit in my shoulder and our hair blowing in the wind in my convertible and that one time when I got really drunk on the beach—scattered helpless across the knobby crème carpet and me still shaking in the reverberation of a shut door.

Maybe tomorrow I'll just use the yellow blocks. I've always liked the color yellow.

the road trip
The highway is an easy stretch through Iowa
pig-stench to a home town I don’t remember.
Role the windows down to feel the wind
pierce our hands like the toothpicks
we’d carry in our mouths, pretending to be mobsters
without a family heritage. Crisp March air beats
like crickets wings between my watch and my skin.
Smoking in our t-shirts because we were too afraid
our guilt would be caught in the fleece of our sweaters,
forgetting about the silent kid in the back
who months later will drive three hundred miles
to confess that he is in love you.
Hold the cigarette between your legs
to keep the air from claiming your light.
Cross the state line and count the ten thousand lakes
to ten thousand and three, yelling each one out
like a mugger on an empty street. Let’s wear skimasks
and scare the blue hairs in traffic while driving back
to your house from Duluth where the boys give free hugs
from bomb threats and the girls are jealous
we can be so bold in an empty courtyard.
We never looked more free than we did that day
under the strobe light dancing le disco
in the darkness of your basement bathroom.

is there a doctor in the house?
Please be patient
with my routine inconsistency
as I tear from my ears
the tongues of mouths
belonging to everyone
I carry inside of me.
Every night I leave them
lying wet and wounded
on the muddy path
without intentions of returning
every morning to check for a pulse
without intentions of discerning
a cure to their disease.

They are still my desire.
I have the same ability
to save them
as they have
to save me.

So I lay like a shabby baby-blanket
next to them, and as I watch their chests
rise and fall, they become nothing
more than tattered, fleshy rags
in tiny sticky pools of red
and the trail we’re on a miniature exodus.

So please, be a steady surgeon.
Take this contracting heart
in a calm hand,
and with firm fingers
and a sharp needle
and a long thread,
work.

three perspectives on sept. 11
The radio still turned on to the Rick Dees morning show. The bed covers still felt like lead as I dragged them off my still fatigued body. My room was still dark behind its plastic shades. People were still on their way to work. The temperature was still rising. There still wasn’t any chance of rain. The West Coast was still on the west. Life was still living. I still had to go to school; to biology first period with a teacher from Iran who still counted attendance in Farsi; to world cultures second period with a teacher who still didn’t believe I was smart enough for her honors class; with students who still understood politics and money better than me and cared about it more than me; to lunch with friends I still had from sixth grade; to a Christian club that still didn’t have the answers to my questions. I still had to wait for my mother to pick me up from the parking lot behind the theatre. My sister and I still watched Disney together. And by dinner, my parents are still talking about the buildings I still knew nothing about.

I bring my seat and tray-table to their upright and locked positions. My stomach tightens, churning with acid and preparations. It is upset with the food I couldn’t eat or the steps that I’m anxious to take. But I am a statue of nerves and tendons stretching in tension. My fingers curl into tightly packed flesh balls and I wonder what burning skin smells like. An image of my home bubbles before my eyes, the dust and the chaos and yuba and omaa and mosque. This is right this is good this is right this is good lather rinse repeat slather my sense of retreat with the encouragement of a better world and better faith and virgins. I must remember this is God’s bidding, this is right this is good, there is no other thought. There are so many people. This must be done. Except that one woman and her son who have the same colored skin as me. They live here now, it doesn’t matter. I reach to separate my collar from my neck where it is stuck with sweat. It is cold here. I think about the desert air and the sun and our goats. I will be remembered in eternity for this. I will be loved. They will see this is the only way.

I heard the loud noise of skin tearing as it shot through me. I heard their cries as my flesh bore into theirs. I heard the crack of my spine and split of the intruder’s skull. I heard the crack of wings on my ribs. I heard the ggrrrfuhchtchshhhhh of its belly on my carpet, like a snake through dry grass. I heard their bones break within mine as they crashed through floors and floors of my vital organs. I heard them pound my thighs and knees as they flew to the ground. I heard their hearts sing of weddings and little league and college graduations into mine. I heard the earth shake as my brother fell into himself. I heard the silence in the moment Death swallowed the screams of passengers and pagers and telephones and copiers and cubicle gossip and early morning meetings. I felt them bleed my blood.

we'll tell the truth between our teeth
I didn’t realize how much I loved you until you began to love another. I have been so cold in my life. The heater is on. I sit under blankets in sweats and a sweatshirt and I freeze. There are no more thoughts, no more thoughts about weddings and forever and climbing into bed with you and kissing our son’s goodnight on the forehead. You were the only on I could see myself waking up to every morning. But night lasts, and morning is always tomorrow. There is no here. This house is quite. There are no thoughts to echo off the walls, no images to be written on their skin, because there is no you and I to imagine. There is only crème carpet and open windows without blinds and a couch that we shared. I know it could never be, it was not, but I was the first you spoke those words to and I was scared and now a month later, I imagine you will whisper them into her ear and you will take her to the lighthouse and she will learn more about you perhaps than you told me. Will she see you cry? It does not matter because you are not mine and I know that it is better. I have no breath until I am on my knees in crème carpet, gasping, sobbing.

lives of rumors

2011-01-04T13:04:00.000-08:00

Chad Fish is everything I want because he is everything I’m not. He is a snake, molting everywhere, leaving his skin on lunch tables and baseball fields and parking lots. Everything he touches slinks after him. Including me. He is confident in a way that doesn’t intrude on your pride. He speaks little and his popularity is founded in the lives of rumors and his deceptively genuine smile. He started at school only months after me. But where my presence was an instant burden—athlete, over-achiever, socialite—his was a solo blitzkrieg. He is a sniper, leaving a trail of dead before evaporating like dew on desert asphalt. He is unavoidable and I am intoxicated. It is surprising to see him in a church. He never appeared to be spiritual. Then again, no one really is at our age. We have nothing to live for and religion doesn’t give us anything to die for, so it comes down to whatever is easiest I suppose. That’s what it is for me anyway.

My mother is crying. Tragedy seems to follow her. After dad died, we left Shakopee and moved to Palm Springs. She said it was about time she lived her life. Sounded more like she was trying to escape death. It didn’t work.

Rukmani Patel, mom’s most recent accessory, puts his arm around her. I try not to think about them having sex. I imagine her fragile white fingers digging into his rounded brown shoulders. Gross. Wrong. Mr. Patel takes the yearbook photos for school, speaks his English with a think Farsi accent and smells of curry and jasmine. It doesn’t fit—him and my mom, tugging at her cardigan sweater, tucking her blonde bob behind her ear.

Aunt Augusta thought so too. I should clarify… She isn’t really my aunt. She’s mom’s best friend from third grade and like a second mother to me. She came to visit a couple months ago and never left. She was the fresh air our humid house was gasping for, bouncing her tangled yarn head of saffron hair back and forth, singing AC/DC while making tuna melts. She was my silver lining, sitting across from my mom, waving her soft hands with their long gold nails in protest. “Offer Chris’sake, Marie, don’t ya know, you two together is like a junebug in January.” Now I watch as she gives Mr. Patel a sideways glare as he draws mom’s face into the stern of his neck. All mother does is sob and sob.

It is odd to see these people—some I know, most I don’t—together in a church that has long since turned it’s back on them; all here with a finger on the thing they fear the most but can’t figure out; teammates, teachers, grocery store clerks that I’ve seen around but have never known; all with quiet hands and folded faces, breathing deep the life of the mother and her sleeping child. And in a few months, it’ll all be forgotten because it’s the easiest thing we can do.

time for some technical dots and scribbles

2011-01-04T12:59:00.000-08:00

more so as a way to re-initiate writing in my life, imma posting old (and soon new) writings.

though i suppose it's all new here...

that's my disclaimer.

let's commence.

what it means to be family

2008-10-07T16:31:00.001-07:00

It all went by so fast. I remember the first moment I arrived in Kansas. The nervous excitement that immediately pulled my eyes to the people I was looking for, even though I had never seen them before (it was that… or the fact that they were waving for me). Their smiles mirrored my anxiety. And so it began, a group of 14 strangers feeling the same uneasiness, making us an instant family, though we may have not known that at the time, (it takes some of us, like me, longer than others to figure these things out). though we were in essence “family,” I still felt alone, and yet not quite, wary of these people like I was wary of the tethers that held me to the high ropes course throughout orientation, the most brilliantly awkward two days of my life… But there I was and there they were, with a collective strength to hold me firm through the instability of my course. They were there for me when I wasn’t there for them, when I couldn’t take care of myself, when I said the worst things to tear them apart and when I just didn’t care. I remember the morning I realized they were my family… After a night of stalling in a gear I had been running in before Kairos, I had to go to these people I had been surrounded by for many months but had never really let into my life and I had to bear my soul. For a moment in time I was naked before them, and they wrapped me in a blanket of acceptance, mercy and forgiveness. They loved me; with all of the parts of me I hated so much, they love me. For this, I thank them. I love them. They are my family, holding me up on the wire I can’t balance on by myself. They are my fuel and my fire. They are my God’s-love tangible. In retrospect, there is not a doubt in my mind, considering what I did and said or didn’t do and didn’t say, that the only way they made it through with me was by the blessing of God’s love in and through them. In the beginning, we were all scared, we all thought we didn’t belong, but we had been put together, no doubt by God’s wise hand, and we grew together. I was sharpened by them as much as they were sharpened by me, if not more. For this, I thank you. Without your prayers and support, I would not have been able to walk this line with them. I would not have been able to work with them, sing with them, dance with them, laugh with them, cry with them and fall in love with them. God did an amazing work in all of us these last ten months and will continue to do so. He will never leave us nor forsake us. For this, I thank Him. So sing praise and raise a glass to the Great Physician, who never leaves us broken, but completes us in his name.

been there, done that

2008-10-07T11:47:00.000-07:00

China was unlike anything I could have expected. It wasn’t that I was expecting to be like Ireland—I knew it wouldn’t be. I knew that this summer any would be unlike the summer before considering I was going into a country that if they had known what I was really doing there they would not have treated me like such a celebrity; a country so vast we know little about it to work with people who live a life so foreign a life from the one I understand in America. But hey, I’ve been a small group leader before, so it can’t be that different, right? Oh how wrong I was. I’ve told people that this summer was the hardest in my life, which surprises some because my first summer stretched me in ways I had never been stretched before. But this summer I lived in such a way that is so diametrically opposed to our human nature—I lived pushing against the selfishness that claims us all. I don’t me that I simply served others and not myself, though that was a part of it—there have been times when even serving others has turned into a way of serving myself. This summer was about living in the constant submission to the Father’s heart, allowing Him, without resistance, to guide me in my steps, in my words, in my actions and in my relationships. Nothing I did this summer was by my own strength or ability, but by the power and provision of the Perfect One. This summer I saw in a tangible sense the giving spirit of God, His father-heart, His desire to use me to His great ability. He granted me the blessing of using all my weakness and mistakes and frustrations for His purpose. I have found there is nothing greater than being completely emptied of everything that I am and giving God the right to fill me completely with all that He is and all He wants me to be. He is my Father, my Protector, my closest Friend and my Teacher. Give praise today, brothers and sisters, to the Great I Am, who is and was and always will be our Lover and our Savior, for He is worthy to be praised.

this is a tricky business: part 2

2008-07-22T22:58:00.000-07:00

i don't know where i left off, but let me fill you in with what has happened so far...
(mind you this is the very abridged version)

we were in chongzhou (chun-zoh) working with high school student through different events and themed days to build reletionships by which we could then talk about the Father and the Good News. we went to the school two times a day and we stayed in a hotel about a 15 minute walk away from the school, so we definately got a work out. not to mention the five flights of stairs we had to climb to our rooms. we visited villages and tryed to help were we could in the city picking up trach and clean stores and what not. that was difficult just because the chinese cannot fathom why americans would want to serve them. but we're all about breaking stereotypes here. we also visited the stone forest which was an adventure.

currently we are in jieyiang (jie-young). were staying at a private school where we work with teachers and students in a similar but differnt program. it's a language camp where anyone who knows some english can improve, but the purpose is the same- to build relationships through which we can introduce the Father. here, we've climbed a mountain. and by climbed a mountain i mean we've climbed 1,746 steps to the top of a mountain. IT WAS AMAZING! and we also went to the 10,000 bamboo forest, which was also interseting and beautiful.

the Father has really been doing a good work here in China and in our family. He grows us and strengthens us each day and it's impossible not to see His majesty in the Vastness that is China. there are 6 million people in the city we are currently in. and that's a small city... i don't even know if it's on a map. all that to say, He is big and we have definately seen that here.

i hope this finds you well and that the Father blesses you. thank you for your words and continue to give thanks to Him and with others.

peace,
sara.

this is a tricky business

2008-07-08T00:22:00.000-07:00

training camp came and went and before i knew it we were in china. and i know it's been a long, long while since i wrote anything, and perhaps you're wondering what about the second semester? well, i'll do what i can to catch up later, but for now, let's focus on the present.

china is nothing like i expected. we don't eat rice at every meal, there are no egg rolls, two seconds out the door and you're swimming in your shorts and through the air it's so thick with humidity. people here do not all look the same, there isn't a mcdonalds within 50 miles of our hotel. not everyone i've run into is a genius. the people here are extremely friendly, though i've been assured that that is because i'm american. it doesn't bother me anymore to be stopped by some random person asking to take my picture. people everywhere, old and young, yell out whatever english they know nad get such a thrill to see us turn and reply. it's like a unspoken game between us and them. look and the funny americans and laugh. it's actually quite wonderful. i was telling our amaing teacher earlier how blessed i have been to have visited three very different cultures within this last year.

and i was just informed i have about four minutes so i'm going to wrap it up and i'll write more later.

i hope the father blesses you and that this find you well.
peace brothers and sisters.
sara.

spurgeon paper

2008-04-03T08:08:00.000-07:00

another paper for class. the title analogy is a bit shotty, but roll with me.

"breakfast at tiffany’s"

During the formative years of my life, the following events took place: freshman year of high school—enrolled in a four year culinary arts program that led to an internship and job during senior year; sophomore year—quit the culinary program to get into advanced acting and began piano lessons; junior year—quit acting because of differences with the teacher and tried my hand at adolescent psychology, also quit piano lessons; senior year—dropped the two year pysch program due to too much self-diagnosing and completed computer literacy and dance (not simultaneously). And while I was able to stick through four years of water polo, I only participated in two years of swimming and one year of track, because I just wasn’t having fun. Longest job: ten months. Shortest job: two weeks. College drop-out.

After hearing this resume, most would say I have some commitment issues. I would say they are very correct. But what’s the big deal? I mean, isn’t it good to keep your options open in case something better comes along? Really, I’m just being flexible to my environment, and blessed are the flexible… right? Perhaps I’m just kidding myself out of thinking I’m simply a product of my generation—a generation that when the going gets tough, we runaway. We all talk a big talk, but when it comes to keeping our nose to the grindstone, we huff and wince and say, “But that thing smells and I just got my nails done, so I really don’t want to get my hands dirty and I think I just heard…uh, Bob… call my… um, I’m just gonna see if he needs help with… paperclips?” What’s happening is we’ve lost focus in developing key values of character and what’s worse is it’s infiltrating an area of our lives that should be steady as a rock—our relationship with God.
So what do we do? Well, if we can’t help ourselves, we should look to someone else to help us. Case in point: Charles Spurgeon. We can look to Spurgeon for his examples in discipline. He recognized that the most important thing in life is our relationship with God and when you are dedicated to Him, being dedicated to others and to other things almost comes naturally. Through Spurgeon, we can understand that character does not come from accidentally having the right genes or a responsibility you gain when you turn 21; it comes from a willingness to suffer, to build a faith that endures because of a deep love for the Lord.

One of the biggest contributors to complacency in my generation today is due to our unwillingness to step out and take a risk, because with risk there is an opportunity for failure, and failure many times leads to suffering. We have it ingrained in our brains that if we do anything, we will suffer the consequences. I wonder if for Christians, this sentiment is heightened because we see failure as being eternally worse. So instead we construct rules to adhere to, because as much as we may say we don’t like rules at least it gives us a standard to live by, so when we get to heaven we can say, “But God, I followed your rules. I lived to the standard.” Perhaps that’s true, but following God doesn’t equate a relationship with God. I can follow the instructions sent to me through a computer, but unless I leave my cubicle, I’ll never know why I’m doing them and, perhaps more importantly, I’ll never know the one sending them. Unless I leave my box, however sturdy, however comfortable, however familiar it may be, I’ll never become a better worker; I’ll only be a robot, typing away information for no reason. Spurgeon, being a man drowned by suffering (and by that, I mean hardship), says, “A mother’s heart cries, ‘Spare my child’; but no mother is more compassionate than our gracious God” (129). It’s as if we think that in stepping out and very likely, failing, God will shake His head at us, strike us down in His almighty wrath… there are a bunch of Christians running around who have forgotten how to live by grace and I’m one of them. Spurgeon explains this is not the character of God, and if we can’t trust in the infallible character of God, what is faith?

Well, some might say that faith is believing the Truth. In the Christians life, faith is believing that God is who He says He is and that He’ll do what He says He’ll do. But it seems like this is one of the most difficult things to do as a Christian, as mentioned above. It’s interesting how these two concepts are essentially codependent on each other; that in order to build up an enduring faith, we must be willing to suffer (like Romans 5:3-5) and that it also takes faith to step out to be willing to suffer. This challenge of faith becomes less of a challenge as we become completely and utterly dependent on God. And this doesn’t mean that only for life issues do we thrust all our cares on God and believe that He will carry us through (not that we shouldn’t do that), but are we really able to trust Him in the most challenging areas of out lives when we refuse to let Him take control and work the least areas of life. Spurgeon says that, “We generally make out worst blunders about things that are perfectly easy, when the thing is so plain that we do not ask God to guide us, because we think our own common sense will be sufficient, and so we commit grave errors” (43). How radical would our faith be if we cast every area of our life upon God? I mean, that’s all He really asked of us anyway, right? I believe that if the body of Christ, if I, began to consciously throw every part of my life on God, laid if all at His feet, not only would it become less of a task-that-I-must-do, but our love for God would grow deeper through this act of humility.

Now, I’ll admit, a part of me wants to laugh and say this is a lot easier said than done, but it fundamentally isn’t. The reason it appears difficult is because it would require from me a sense of discipline that I’m really not use to. Because how I’m I supposed to trust the character of God unless I know God's character and the only way to know someone’s character, is to get to spend time with them. What it takes is dedication. Spurgeon draws a really interesting analogy between us and a squirrel in a tree, explaining, “I wondered and admired the beech, but I thought to myself, I do not think half as much of this beech as yonder squirrel does. I see him leap from bough to bough, and I feel sure that he dearly values the old beech tree, because he has his home somewhere inside it in a hollow place, these branches are his shelter, and those beechnuts are his food. He lives upon the tree… With God’s word it is well for us to be like squirrels, living in it and living on it” (106). In order to have faith in the first place, we must know what we are claiming to have faith in.

Personally, all this is a little daunting to look at and read as something that is being called out of me. And yet there is encouragement in the fact that it is possible. Spurgeon would be the example of how these few aspects of our walk with God work together, weaving into each other to create in us a real sense of who God is and who God wants us to be. I believe that at the root of everything, God is really calling us to one thing—commitment. Through commitment, feelings can grow. In commitment, we can love God and those around us as He loved us. Because really, love is a commitment. Jesus was committed, in love with His Father and His children, when He paid our debt with His blood. So maybe now it’s my turn to settle down, commit and give the cat a name.

part 2: letter from debriefing

2008-03-23T09:27:00.000-07:00

it was strange for me- to step off a plane in a country so unfamiliar, knowing what i intend to do and yet not having any clue, really, what i'm getting myself into. i mean, can we ever really grasp what outreach is? how God can potentially move? what are we getting ourselves into?
life...
taking one step at a time...
trust...
the root of faith...
it feels like i've been preparing for so long, building up my belief, my faith, that this is right- what i'm about to do is right and good and purposed. (it's a pride issue...) but as you walk out of the terminal and into the heat and the red dust and the sweet bite of sweat, doubt takes over. what if? remind yourself
it is...
it will...
you will...
they will...
He will...

and so it begins. and putting all that aside, i hop in the van, off to immerse myself in the village horde. we drive, and as i watch out the window, and i see a man stumble into a wall, the brick providing the support his legs cannot, because the deflated paper bag he clutches in his hand has taken his strength and replaced it with an unreality, my reality hits, once again.
we're not in kansas anymore.
my shelteredness astounds me. are these people so different then me? life point one of trip: i am not better, nor is my culture better, than anyone or anything presented here. i must accept that i live in a broken world, and this mircocosm is not worse off than the one i'm familiar with in the states and i'm not here to save it because i can't.

two days later, we reach our first village. once more, even though i lack a mirror, i'm faced with Pride. and i play with the children and try to speak spanish with them, but she's there, screaming in the back of my mind HOW DARE YOU BE HAPPIER THAN ME! you, who have no shoes and live in huts where bugs can kill your heart... reason works my Pride, saying i have more, i have better, therefore i am... i should be... but i only think that because i have experienced a life where i can have more and have taken more. my mind says they should be unhappy because they don't have better but why should they be when they cannot fathom my mind's standard of "better". better for them is a house with a cement floor and a tin roof, the ibuprofen i take for granted, flip-flops i naver think twice about... better for them is life with Jesus and i found myself in quick and dire need of an attitude change. instead of letting the devil work in my emotions and raise my Pride and make me angry that these people lead happier, more content lives then me, i chose to act in the opposite and do my best to help the villagers in anyway i can and rejoice with them in the small pleasure of life. leading to life point two of the trip: americans have everything but time, therefore we never share it with you. hondurans don't have anything but time, therefore they give it with you.

see, what was happening was, as i dwelled in the thoughts of gross superiority, i lost focus and lost interest and lost energy. i began thinking it was pointless, worhtless, that i wasn't really doing anything, because these people could never know, would never know, what i have. (oh, come on. like that's really what's important, sara.) the more i didn't do because i thought it didn't matter, the less i wanted to do. so i forced myself to neglect me and hang out with the kids, sing a song, play soccer... and you know what happened? when i was able to get over myself, i found i was falling more and more in love with the people, with my environment and with my God. because, with the focus off of me, i was able to see that everyone wants to know they are loved and everyone wants to know they are worthwhile. enter life point three of the trip: do something. newton's law of inertia says that an object at rest will stay at rest; an object in motion will stay in motion (i know i over-simplified it, but you get the picture), and i believe God may know a thing or two about physics, so... maybe i should trust Him.

maybe i should trust Him.
more.
often.

been a long time coming

2008-03-17T19:20:00.000-07:00

i know.
i'm terrible.
forgive me.

but these last couple months have been near indescrible in their velocity and magnitude. it's been movement since january. blitz lived up to it's name and flew by. not only did we meet some amazing kids who i can't wait to see on the hayfeild in june, but it provided a vital time where we could grow from being students with a kairos commonality to a family of confidants. it was vital because right after blitz we headed to honduras and i believe that if we had not been as tight as we were, outreach would have been a very difficult task. but it was amazing, not only in what we saw and did, but i was blessed to learn more about my brothers and sisters, to witness their passion and see their hearts. there were moments when i was seriously astonished by how well we worked as a team, getting construction projects done quickly; how positve we stayed, living out of blue duffel bags and sleeping on cement floors in cramped one room schools; how encouraging we were to each other, after the rain caused our five hour hike through the rainforest to a very slippery, very dirty one.

(sidenote: even though it was long and hot and extremely dirty and uphill and downhill, it was the most demanding, cleansing, wonderful, beautiful experiences of my life and i would trek those opolaca mountains with just three litters of water and my bible on my back again any day.)

honduras was like clean water through my spitiual digestive system; it washed me out but i felt refreshed and energized and stregthened, not just by the love we tried to show the villagers, but the love that they reciprocated to us. we didn't just bring the joy with us; we were met with joy everywhere we went.

and then there was spring break, which after driving to minnesota, driving to wisconsin, driving back to minnesota, driving to chicago, driving to kansas, and flying to san jose, left me more exhausted then all the hiking in honduras. but i had some wonderful time at home, spending it with friends and family and trying to soak in as much sun as possible before returning to kansas. good thing too because it's been gray and rainy the last couple of days.

and now we're getting back into the swing of things. we're all a little awkward around each other, but i blame that on our lack of team momentum. soon enough the old jokes will return and one on ones and the love that at times is a little too much and then we'll be begging for a break.
but for now, life has resumed and it is as it always was and it is as it should be and it is right.
it is right.

it's good to be back.

my book report for abba's child

2007-12-30T02:46:00.000-08:00

so i thought i'd post the book report we had to do for the last book we read. i know, it sounds boring, but what better way to see (or read in this case) how what we learn in kairos applies to life? plus, it very much reflects my current feelings. so here we go:

“I don’t want to be a pie.”
I wish I could write this report by simply putting together a bunch of quotes from Abba’s Child. But alas, I cannot. I found myself marking every other page, swearing to commit it to memory because of the advice it gave. And by advice, I mean that stuff that you’ll never ask for but that which only the closest people to you can read by the plea in your eyes, not those clichés that people think you need to hear to appease the heart-broken-pity-the-worm feeling in your gut. Abba’s Child was an easy read in that diction was sophisticated, the syntax was rhythmic; the overall prose was poetic. But this “easy read” is the stuff that brings me to tears sitting alone in a busy airport terminal on a cold Saturday morning. So excuse my feeble attempt to make sense of it’s direction. I cannot do it justice in relation to it’s impact on me, but c’est la vie.
I was thinking about what I could title this paper, and came to this, a quote from the movie Chicken Run. It’s silly, the things that stick in your head but anytime I don’t want to do something, for whatever reason, this line comes to mind. I got to thinking about it in comparison to Manning’s talk about the Impostor. I guess for forever long (or so it seems), I believed this Impostor was not just a projection, a façade or a cosmetic. It was innermost part of me; my inherent core. I don’t know that I really wanted to believe that; does anyone want to believe they are “bad” deep deep inside? But I couldn’t understand how to believe differently. So I got to thinking that perhaps those moments when war raged inside of me, those were the moments when my heart realized that this wasn’t true—that it wasn’t bad—and before my head could react, my heart tried to separate me from my Impostor. My mind would wail, “NO! Don’t let Me go,” because I was—I am—so afraid that me would be lost. Manning writes about the Impostor that “if he would become silent within and without he would discover himself to be nothing, he would be left with nothing but his own nothingness, and to the false self which claims to be everything, such a discovery would be his undoing” (pg. 43). I supposed my inconsistency comes from my wanting in desire to witness My undoing.
And I never thought I was deserving of an undoing. Why should anyone care enough to loosen me, untie me from the knots I so quickly tangled myself in? The Impostor, charmingly fragrant, led me to believe that I needed no undoing, because I like everyone else was born rotten and therefore had to learn to be good. See, I never thought I was naturally decent; my impropriety came easy and was likewise downsized as intrinsic. Manning explains it like so, “If we gloss over our selfishness and rationalize the evil within us, we can only pretend we are sinners and therefore only pretend we are sinners. A sham spirituality of pseudo-repentance and pseudo-bliss eventually fashions into what modern psychiatry calls a borderline personality, in which appearances make up for reality” (pg. 154). I think to my friends and the life I left in the desert and how we would always claim to be real. We drink and smoke and never pretend to be perfect like all the other Sunday-best-hands-raised-eyes-closed-when-I-sing hypocrites who run the church. But really we were just relativists dressed up in Christian costumes. We took a “you handle yours and I’ll handle mine” stance on repentance and contentment, hoping against our rationalization that perhaps life might turn out better. But it never did because, even in our supposed hypocritlessness, we were acting. We wanted our authenticity to be bona fide, but we were just playing dress up.
It is the most difficult article to put on—the humility of acknowledged selfishness which leads to seizing His forgiveness and falling into repentance. We may have recognized our evil, but it was in the same way I recognize I’m sitting on a chair. For my friends and I, our sin was what it was and that’s where it stopped. But to wholly accept selfish behavior is to likewise accept that there is an alternate righteous behavior. Sitting down with this knowledge is to stand up with the conviction that there still exists today a force which calls us to virtue. See, if God were dead, this statement would be too. But He’s not. We live, or at least we should, in the awareness of the present riseness of Christ. The reason we don’t is because it would take the inconvenience of pulling on that cloak of humility that allows us to say “yes” to our inadequacy and to accept His perfect capacity. Manning says, “This yes is an act of faith, a decisive, wholehearted response to my whole being to the risen Jesus present beside me, before me, around me and within me; a cry in confidence that my faith in Jesus provides security not only in the face of death but in the face of a worse threat posed by my own malice; a word that must not just be said once but repeated over and over again in the ever-changing landscape of life” (pg. 99).
This is not just the “Help me Jesus” I cry out in the middle of the night. It needs to be the “Help me Jesus” that I whisper under my breath in class, that I breathe into my cold hands before reaching for the frozen handle of the car door, that I pray before I bite into a sandwich. It is my admission that I don’t get it and won’t get it but I’ll make it if I linger a little longer by His side. I don’t need to worry about being made into a pie because I’m not a chicken. I am my Abba’s child and like a daughter clings to her dad for warmth on a windy day, I am holding tight to the strong arm of my Father.

hard and cold as earth, baby

2007-11-21T15:38:00.000-08:00

IT'S SNOWING! i've never seen this before. it's not thanksgiving yet and there is snow on the ground. CRAZY! okay. moments over. moving on.

man, there is so much to write, i don't even know where to begin. every day i'm learning something new. like, i now know how to crochet beenies. i know, i know... i'm a grandma, but it's a really valuable life lesson. i'm kidding, of course. (about the life lesson part. i really do know how to crochet.)

it's interesting to me that each thing we learn overlaps. it doesn't really fit well in my compartmentalized brain. at school, physics goes in its physics box and english in its english box. but here, spiritual warfare is waged everday, so it is a factor in your relationships and requires constant prayer and knowledge of yourself and your foundations in Christ and the scriptures. that's like the thesis statement of the last weeks. honestly, i've never been good at writing papers for school, so the term "thesis statement" always hinders my ability to compile coherent paragraphs... where am i going with this? i guess the bulk of this paper should be about my foundations and what i've learned about myself. truth be told, it seems like we've spent more time in class figuring out ourselves then we have God, but when you think about it, it makes sense for two reasons. first, if i don't know myself, why would i bother to know the God who created me. that may sound selfish, but most young people i know are so wrapped up in themselves because they are on this journey to "find" themselves. but what do they do when they finally come upon who they are? it seems like the most humble thing to do is figure yourself out so that you can finally forget about you and consentrate on God. and i don't mean this whole time we have lost sight of God; He is actively apart of finding ourselves. i'm sorry. maybe this is confusing. let's continue...

second, it is impossible to understand the unfathomable YHWH, so, since we are created in His image, by learning about myself, His mystery becomes discernable to the confines of my human brain. not that my spiritual gifts or personality traits are a reflection of His capacity, but that they are a glimpse of His magnificence and that He is so so much more than what has been created in me. you still with me? good.

"so what is all "knowing yourself" mumbo-jumbo your talking about here?" well, we took a personality test and a spiritual gift inventory, which were frighteningly accurate and shocking, respectively. first was the personality element profile (pep). it divides personailties into four major elements-earth, wind, fire and water. of these, i am an earth, through and through. pretty much, you can just think about the element and know the traits of its owner. i'm accurate, organized, focused, serious, steady, dedicated, slow moving, structured and conscientious. sound right? ain't gonna lie, it's a little difficult in the dynamic of kairos. i'm the only double earth; shane is also an earth, but he's blended with water, so he's more adaptable and easy-going. most everyone else is some degree of a wind, the element completely opposite to me. they're all flexible and talkative and emotion-driven and sometimes, they just bug me. but that's the point behind this-to figure ourselves out so that we can learn the best ways to interact and work with one another.

then there was the spiritual gift inventory. if you look in romans, paul lists several motivational gifts; this is the list the test is based on. what's great is that we didn't just learn what areas we're gifted in, we also learned what it means to have spiritual gifts and why and how to use them. i am gifted primarily in administration (it goes along with earth, i think), followed by mercy (i know... shocker) and perception. kevin told me that it is a very unlikely combination to have mercy and perception, but that God must like me, because if i didn't have mercy, i'd be a very difficult person to be around. thanks kevin. but i gotta say, i'm excited to know about these gifts. i feel like i have super powers.

but seriously, it's great to understand the reasons behind why i feel and act the way i do. it helps me to see myself through His eyes- as His beloved creation. to know i do things on purpose, not just willy-nilly for no good reason, humbles me. He loves me enough to have made me so intricate. ladies and gents, you may not understand all the little things you do naturally, but all those little nuances you think are ridiculous are His fingerprints on you. that's how much He loves you. and you know what the means? it means He is even more elaborate. and i don't know about you, but i'm excited to exhaust the inexhaustible God.

but then again, i'm an earth. i like detail-oriented things.

peace in His immeasurable love.

the setting

2007-11-10T06:49:00.000-08:00

this is probably the most difficult blog to write just because it's the first and there is so much to get through...

it's cold. the warm days here are cold days back in the desert. for the first two weeks, everyone asked me if i was doing alright because of the weather. and i miss mountains. it really took some getting used to looking out on the horizon and seeing for miles and miles. and i don't like trains. there are trains everywhere. i've seen more trains here then cows and corn combined, and that shocks me. and they blow there horns forever at a time, in the middle of the night... i. hate. trains. i've started drinking coffee again. i know, it's sad. but in my defense, when it's 47 degrees outside and you need to sit in the barn for three hours of biblical foundations, you need something. on the upside, i make a pretty mean mocha drink. mmhmm...

oh, the barn- that is our classroom. it's a real barn that has been completely remodeled, so i think it's pretty neat. i assume caleb from wisconsin doesn't share my enthusiasm. but that's also because caleb doesn't get excited about, well, anything. he's an interesting kid. i'm intrigued by him because i've never met anyone so easy-going. but i diverge. the barn is apart of life church, our host church, a church i absolutely love. i have never been excited about a church, and i'm not talking about going to church, but the Church, the people, the pastors, the vision... i'm so excited for everything that going to be happening in the next year here. clint sprague is the senior pastor and he is a lover of people. on sunday he said something i thought was very interesting. he said he doesn't want to reach out to people because he's a pastor, he's a pastor because he wants to reach out to people. and you know not just because he says it but because you can see it in the way he acts. he gets excited to share God's love with people. and everyone here, the people we intern with, the host families, the other pastors, they just love God and each other and love the Church. and the message of life always comes back to God's flawless, endless love. basically, the short version of all that is i've never felt more at home with a church. i actually prefer to spend more time at the barn then at my host home, probably because most of my days are spent there anyway so it feels more like a second home than a classroom.

the days here seem to stream together. it's takes some times to remember that i've only been here a month. routine has been formed, which i like. i've already read two books and turned in three papers, done a six-page personal study of luke (which doesn't really sound like a big deal, but i've never done an in-depth study of specific books in the Bible). right now, i'm (supposed to be) reading andrew murray's humility and doing a study of romans. i intern in media, so i work under the worship director, jared sholtz (who is crazy talented... crazy and talented) and sean, who did kairos last year, making video announcements and such.

so far it's been good. that's not to say there hasn't been awkwardness and discomfort and struggle and frustration, but i'm starting to wonder if those things aren’t necessarily good or bad. they are what they are. the consequences of a state of being make it good or bad, and because i have chosen to have faith in the hope that this will ultimately be good, i can withstand the pain. it's like running. which i've also started doing, down by lake olathe (just gorgeous at sunset, with the light weaving through the trees), which i should go do, because i haven't since it's been so cold this week and it happens to be a really nice day (51 degrees). but once i get my under armor, it's on. (and, in light of this last weeks teaching on spiritual warfare, that statement has a double-meaning.)

in His great love,

sara p.

introduction to the play

2007-11-07T04:38:00.001-08:00

list of characters:
big dogs:
kevin- director of kairos
erika- my small group leader
kaymi- intern; also my small group leader
kaleb- guys small group leader
jessica- other ladies small group leader
pups:
shane
hope
hannah
brooke
kelsey g.
kelsey d.
lexey
zach
dustin
jack
crystal
janae
caleb
(don't worry, i don't expect you to remember them all.)
speakers:
jared sholtz- worship
steve seizemore- personal foundation, humilty, grace
dean sherman- relationships, spiritual warfare
ollie olsen- anything you want to know about the Bible, he's got the answer... no joke.

prologue:
everytime i get on the interent from my computer, i'm met with a google homepage, on which i have quotes for the day. today there was one from robert frost, "in three words i can sum up everything i've learned about life: it goes on." the quote speaks to me in a way i don't understand. it applies to how i feel, but i don't know why.

i could give you a lot of background from the last three weeks; tell you about all the speakers, what i've learned so far, the friends i've made, the places i've been to (which are few... i mean, this is kansas), but i won't. at least not know. trust me, you'll get plenty of it. and i'm excited to share it. but right now... right now, it's acknowledging that things are different but not really, i get it but i don't, my head knows but my heart is lacking.

but it goes on. as it should.

part 1: letter from debriefing

2007-11-04T14:25:00.000-08:00

this is the moment you have stressed about for the last three months- the moment you enter the unknown, a moment the will last for at least three weeks. your family, your friends have been gathering for weeks, patting you and the back, trying their mightiest to reassure you that "you'll do great." you think, maybe they're right. maybe i will do great. i'm ready. i have my ten pairs of underwear, my two rolls of toilet paper, my hand sanitizer... yep, we're good to go.

then you arrive an hour late, find two people you've never met before in baggage claim (or maybe they find you first), get lost, spend a restless night on the floor in a room shared by 30+ female strangers. when the sun arrives, so does a new face ready to tear apart your two perfectly packed boxes and to rapidly repack (a.k.a. vigorously shove) their contents into an immense blue bag and get you registered before the hot water for oatmeal runs dry. you then have the privilege of riding in a school bus for four hours to "destination n/a" as the humidity seeps through the plastic seats to wearing on you like a winter coat.

and just when you begin to think, why couldn't the plane have crashed? you hear it. the soft roar of voices unmet. you see pants being flown proudly on their broomstick and you are told, "we believe in you more than you believe in yourself"; you swallow your fear with your stale gum... welcome to training camp. and though you don't realize it (not in a brainwashing sense, but in a stubborn pride sense), this is the start of a slow reformation.

so i sit here, listening to the wind and rain rage outside in tiny Pinner, England, and look back through five weeks of hammering and stripping away every peice of anything i once considered rational and comprehend only a fragment of the transformation that has begun, or perhaps it's that i'm hoping i only understand a part of what has happened, because i fear that knowing completely would mean losing the desire to continue searching. it has taken twenty years to get here... i would be satisfied if it took another twenty to finish.

this process is slow and tedious, but something beautiful has begun.

"More than that, we rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us." romans 5:3-5

i am...

2007-11-04T14:23:00.000-08:00

wow. there are few words that can explain everything that has happened in the last few weeks. really in my mind, it's a whirl-wind and i have a difficult time remembering what i ate for breakfast. okay not really becasue it was malto, which we eat every morning. training camp quite possibly was the best experience of my life. the senoir staff ladies, Mary and Katie, are two of the most amazing women i have every met. those first two weeks would have been impossible to get through without them. and now in ireland, well... it's ireland. freezing, damp, exciting and new. it's interesting to look out the window and to know your in a different place, to recognize the buildings and the streets and even the people, yet know everything is different. it looks much like america (belfast reminds me of san fransisco), but greener and with squished buildings. we've started some ministry today, but it was cut short due to rain. you can sense God here; in the church, in the promanade, in the town square. it makes my stomach churn and keeps me nervous but in the best sense. i miss you all and aubrey, ruth says hello. she loves you and misses you and i think she's amazing.

ps. booddle ain't that bad.

much much love.
sara.

bread and butta

2007-11-04T14:19:00.000-08:00

i obviously stink at keeping up with writing and such, considering i've only writen three of these things... anyway...

so i leave in ten days. TEN DAYS! and i've told both places i work that there are about seven days left in me for them and everyone wants to know, am i excited. and it's sad (to me) that i honestly haven't taken the time to feel anything about what is going to happen when i broad that plane by myself and head to chicago to meet four girls i will be leading around a foreign country. this is a load of firsts for me. and whenever i take time (in the midst of applying for college and working 13 hour days) to think about ireland, i don't feel excitement. i feel confusion and fear and sometimes nothing at all simply because i don't know how to feel about it. and those sound like terrible things to feel as i enter into this experience, but i shoot for the truth. my mind tells me about trust and joy and how God hasn't failed me yet and anyway, it's not about you, it's about what He is going to do through you to show His perfect love and grace, so don't stress. but i daily struggle with my failures; the shame of my mistakes still sits before me like an open trench. i stare over the edge and all i see is death. it's like the scene in indiana jones and holy grail, where indie needs faith to walk the invisible bridge. and you would think that i could convince myself of His faithfulness, since He has proven it time and time again, not to mention this isn't death, it's a mission trip. but i see my words failing and a new crevasse forming; i see me forgetting something and rocks slipping.

so i guess this is a final reminder to myself that this is not about me, because most likely what i just mentioned will happen, but another thing that will happen is that lives will change, even by failing words and things forgotten. and maybe it'll be the irish and maybe it'll be my team... probably both. but any way you slice it, He is the bread of life, having already been broken, just asking to be passed around.

comedic timing

2007-11-04T14:17:00.000-08:00

it's interesting. i've been described many times as a person who must be driven by purpose. if i'm not, then i do nothing. i sit in my room and stare at my wall and waste time. but if there is a clear purpose behind my actions, then nothing will stop me. or at least that's what they say. and honestly, i agree.

time and time again, i have started something, full of excitement and energy, but it lasts a week or so, and then the project gets pushed under the bed to gather dust while being forgotten. or i get frustrated and give up, throwing the project against the wall, thinking it was stupid to ever dream. it's when things remain stagnant that i lose hope. and i don't think is unusual. it's common for everyone. we think, i don't see it happening, so how can it be happening?

when i was accepted to be apart of the ireland team, i was so excited. i never thought i could be wanted in a mission field or want to be in the mission field, so i was astonishing when everything came together so perfectly. i mean (with a little coaxing) i was able to get my letters out in a fairly timely fashion, which for me is unheard of, as i'm known for my procrastination.

but a few weeks passed, and nothing was happening. money wasn’t coming in and i was having serious doubts that i had made a rash decision. how could God use me? why would He want to? doesn't He remember what i've done? doesn't He know all the desire that i still wrestle with? i'm still so messed up? all i could think about was where i had failed and how i could fail in the near future. my shortcomings consumed me. i even told jen tanner, my accountability, that i was praying for God to not provide the money; that that would be easier to face then admitting i didn't want to go to ireland. but that was a lie that had imbedded itself in my brain. i did want to go. i do want to go. but i was so enveloped in this idea that i wasn't good enough, that i wasn't perfect enough, i would rather give up.

and this is what i had to give up; this toxic mindset that tore me apart and told me i was nothing. and when i gave that to God, when i offered everything to Him, accepted that i wasn't perfect and i am not going to be perfect and all the parts of me i see as my failures and disappointments are exactly the parts He wants to use, that's when things really took off. they say timing is everything and if that is true, then God is the best freaking comedian ever.

in three weeks, $1,840 has come in (thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you). and my doubts, through a lot of prayer, have been ironed out and refocused. and i re-realize that i'm not and never was the purpose.

He is.

in His purpose.

getting the party started

2007-11-04T14:14:00.000-08:00

so.
if you're reading this, it means you have received one of my letters. lucky you. but seriously, know that your support- your prayers- are very much aprreciated. i can't thank you enough.now, i think you should know the reason that i created this blog.

it seems logical, as i consider myself a writer (though not a very good one), to write about what is going on in my heart and head and life throughout this process. and considering the age we live in, what better way to keep you updated on the "going-on's" than by posting it on the world wide web for everyone to see?

also, i think it's important that, if you are supporting me financially, you know where your money is going, or better yet, who your money is going to. i would imagine that sometimes people give, only to recieve a thank you letter a few months later after the trip. the problem is that so much of the experience can be lost in the mailing of that one letter. this way i can relay to you (if and when we have the opportunity to get on a computer) what God is doing in ireland and in me, when He's doing it. and as my supporter and friend, you have that right. or at least, i think you have that right.

so that's what this is set to be. i'll do everything i can to be on here regularly, being honest to you in the joys and anxieties, before and during this incredible, exhaustive, frightening experience.

in His peace and love.