Tuesday, May 3, 2016

five minute friday: Pass


I remember the encounter well.

A friend and I were on the verge of missing the opening notes of a concert. As new drivers, we had survived the stress of Portland evening traffic, one-way-roads, and whereintheworldistheparkinggarage moments with surprisingly minimal befrazzlement. Dashing up the streets to the concert hall, however, we were suddenly accosted by a group of girls, nearly the same ages as ourselves, with baskets and signs in support of a cause our minds hardly registered.

"Can we talk to you for a moment?" they asked.

We barely gave a coherent answer; our eyes were shining for an evening of piano music, our feet sped us onward to the tempo of anticipated tunes.

"Well, here, take these - for your protection," they insisted, shoving miscellaneous somethings into our hands as we hurried past.

It wasn't until we were seated in the concert hall - having deposited our "gifts" in a trash bin without so much as a glance - that my friend turned to me and asked, "Were those girls representing Planned Parenthood?"

And I knew they had been. I had felt a flicker of conscience as we'd ignored them, a begging of my spirit to stop and talk with them. And I had hurried past.

There the details of our evening fade. I can't recollect who played, or which pieces we heard. I don't know if my friend and I stopped for coffee on the way back, or drove straight home to meet a curfew.

But I do remember how I felt once I was home, sitting in the quiet dark of my room.

I felt ashamed.

Ashamed to have rushed by, missing the opportunity to speak with those girls on the street corner. To learn why they were representing Planned Parenthood. To hear their stories. To show them love. To tell them of my Savior.

I felt ashamed for treating an evening of personal enjoyment as more important than the spiritual state of girls who actually tried to talk to me. For valuing the sparkle of an "evening out" above the terribly too-real lives of dozens of little ones.

Jesus once told a parable of a poor man, Lazarus, who sat outside a rich man's dwelling, hoping, begging, for food from his table. Daily, the rich man walked past, without so much as an inkling of sympathy for the sore-ridden, needy one at his feet. His life, his priorities, his comforts - these were of far greater concern to a man of the world than the life flickering on his doorstep.

In America today - indeed, throughout the whole world - we too have have lives to save on our doorsteps: the lives of the unborn, the future of women and girls facing unplanned pregnancies. Daily, lives flicker between being taken or saved, crushed or nurtured, thrown away or valued. Do you hurry past? Do you bemoan the deeds in word without a pause to help? Do you have a hurried, hardly-coherent answer for girls on the street corner?

I have written before on why I am pro-life, and others have written far more eloquently than I - but what I want to ask today is, What are you doing about it? There are countless options: volunteer at a pregnancy clinic, support your local CPC, or even simply take the time to reach out and talk to the women "on your doorstep". Don't hurry past the mission field with which God has surrounded you. These lives may not be dying on our front porches, but they are suffering in secret, just down the street.

~~~~~~~

I've recently signed up (rather last-minute) to run in a fundraiser race for a local Crisis Pregnancy Center. I'd love it if you felt led to support me! The link is here.
However, even if you are unable to financially support Pathways, please cover them - and all other centers devoted to showing Christ's love to women and mothers in need - in your prayers. 



Confession: it took me a bit longer than 5 minutes to write this, in between teaching today. Still, it was written, minimally edited, and posted all in the same day - which is an accomplishment for me!


Photo Credit:
szdl. Passing. 10 Oct. 2013. Flickr Creative Commons

Saturday, April 23, 2016

I Wish I May


Sometimes you wish for something. Wish until you can hardly hold it in. Until it's all you can think about. Until the day comes when you realize: God's either going to grant your wish, or take it away.

And He asks you to let it go.

To give up the sparkle of each thought you've had about it. To give up the moments when you've grinned for "no reason" because the very wish made you skip. To give up the anticipation; the expectant, bubbly feeling - like a kid in a candy shop - that is part and parcel with waiting on a wish.

And so you do. You let it go.

It takes time. But finally, your thoughts don't live there anymore. You don't feel the desire to talk about it anymore. When you hear of someone else's wish, your heart doesn't race with excitement anymore. 

Because you've let it go.

Then something happens. Maybe it's a picture from the time you were wishing hardest. Maybe it's the book that first whispered to you of the dream. Maybe you watch someone else live your wish. Dream your dream. 

And God lets her. 

Blesses her.

Suddenly, you're in pieces again. Not the shattered, dramatic, sobbing-on-the-floor kind of pieces, but the subtle kind. The kind that makes you wonder if that dull ache is just a destined part of your life now. The kind that's not even sure you want the wish anymore, but can't figure out why it's suddenly so hard.

You hadn't realized how tightly you'd woven your wish into thoughts most special to you. Hadn't realized how very long it takes to extract all the traces from deep inside. Hadn't realized that letting go never happens just once.

"But this is what God asks of me! I can do nothing if not trust Him. If I doubt Him now, what purpose is there in anything?"

So, shakily, you reach your hands toward Him. This is harder than hanging onto hope: to let it die. Again.

Again, you struggle against the memory.
Again, you yearn to understand.
Again, you beg, "Not my will, but Yours!"
Again, you cannot stop the whisper, "but if only this wish could be..."
Again, you wait upon Him.

Hands outstretched.
Ears straining.
Eyes searching.
Heart clinging.

You wait.

And then, one day, you realize - 
"To receive from Him
To hear His voice
To see His glory
To know His love -
This is my wish."

And, gradually, once again, your heart begins to beat to a wish that will forever come true.

"One thing I have desired of the LORD,
That will I seek:
That I may dwell in the house of the LORD
All the days of my life,
To behold the beauty of the LORD,
And to inquire in His temple." - Psalm 27
jessicahtam. Wish. 22 Nov. 2009. Flickr Creative Commons. 

Monday, March 21, 2016

five minute friday (on a Monday): Surprise


It was a surprise. A shock. Unheard of, unconsidered.

The Creator would wrap Himself in the created?

The boundless God would be confined to an infant's body?

The One Who Owns the Worlds would not even have a cradle in which to be laid?

The greatest Wisdom would be called demon-possession?

The King of kings would answer to a governor?

The Only Righteous would be punished for sin?

The Slain would rise again?

It was more than a surprise. It was unfathomable.

And yet, it was Truth.


five minute friday: Writing for five minutes on a theme. Skip the edits. Skip the considerations. Just write. And post.

Friday, March 11, 2016

five minute friday: share

{photo credit}
About to finish up my second quarter at our local community college, one of the classes I've been immersed in for the last 10 weeks is a Creative Non-Fiction Writing class. It's stretched me in many ways; never before have I had the desire or requirement to write over a page on reality, without it being essay format.

In Creative Non-Fiction, my writing is supposed to be personal. It's supposed to reveal me, as the author, and my perspective on whatever subject I may be addressing. It's supposed to not just focus on the "facts, please," but on the emotions, without ever crossing the line to purely making something up. This has overwhelmed me.

My first assignment was to write a memoir - and I have never written anything so difficult. Not because I don't have special memories, not because I can't write well about them, but because the entire class is assigned to read and provide feedback on all turned-in assignments. This frightened me.

Why would I want a roomful of people to know a special memory of mine? Why would I give them that information? They don't know or particularly care about me - how can I share something so priceless with people who have no understanding of its value?

This was sharing of myself I was unwilling to give. Was it wrong? Where do I hold back from sharing myself when I should be giving everything?



five minute friday: Writing for five minutes on a theme. Skip the edits. Skip the considerations. Just write. And post.

Monday, January 4, 2016

A Few Of My Favorite Things Blog Tag!!!


Gracious - long time no blog! Did you have a good Christmas? Happy 2016!! Life has continued to roll by with its changes and challenges, and I'll be sure to do a mini update-in-Sarah's-life soon.

However, in the meantime, I've been blog-tagged by Leslie from The Upstream Writer to do a Christmas (although she says it can be wintry, all things considered :p) Posting.

Rules: use the same title and top picture (check), answer the questions (of course!), and tag 5 fellow bloggers (mmm...problematic, since I don't know that I have that many compatriots, but we'll see).

So without further ado...

A Few of my Favorite Things Blog-Tag Questions-and-Answers

1. What are some of your favorite "Snuggle Weather" books?
Sadly, I don't have any books that I consistently read or gravitate to in Snuggle Weather. I blame this on the fact that there are always so many amazing, "new" books to read. That said, I really love The Best Christmas Pageant Ever (by Barbara Robinson) and Shepherds Abiding (by Jan Karon) as Christmas-time stories!

 


2. What is your favorite wintry snack?
Mmmm. Peppermint hot chocolate. (Yum!)

3. What are some of your favorite hot drinks?
Chai teas - always, peppermint hot chocolate - for special occasions, and peach tea lattes - for comfort. Oh yeah, I drink my fair share of coffee, too.


4. What are some of your favorite Christmas movies?
Favorite Christmas movies seem often to gain their titles for reasons of nostalgia. Imagine my dismay, therefore, in answering this question - because we rarely watched Christmas-themed movies while I was growing up! That's not to say we didn't watch any, it just isn't an essential part of my warm-and-fuzzy Christmas memories.

However, I find The Nativity a beautiful - and more honest than most - telling of the Christmas story.

5. What are some of your favorite holiday songs?
I love the songs in Michael Card's album The Promise, specifically "Joseph's Song," "We Will Find Him," "Thou The Promise," and "Jacob's Star."



6. Favorite snow day crafts?
*Ahem* Does reading count as a craft? Because that's my hands-down fav for snow days! Otherwise, I like knitting, crocheting, hand-sewing...anything that makes pretty things while not demanding my full attention (because if I'm not reading, I'm enjoying the people around me!).

7. Do you want to build a snowman?
Of course!!! Also...sometimes not. I didn't with our recent snowing, because I've developed a nasty cold and was being a stuffy old lady in attempts to not make it worse. But theoretically, yes- always.


And that wraps up the bloggy game! Lauren, Mikaela, or Elanee, if you feel like carrying on with posts of your own, please do! Otherwise, I would love to hear any- and every- one's answers to these questions in the comments!!

Blessings!