There is a little ripple of consciousness beneath my chest, flowing, widening, bubbling up like a spring. It stems from my heart. It is a song.
My song is simply a reflection of the beauty surrounding me. The winter days have finally taken wings and flown away, and spring has gently arrived, bathing me in its warm glow and celestial beauty. The trees and grass adorning my front yard have gladly thrown down their long-worn winter coats and have replaced them with the glad rags of spring; sunny, fresh and green. I can once again see the dew sparkling like a million diamonds on the first flowers of the year, and even the morning air whispers, "He is risen."
My heart sings for gladness. Even amidst the turmoils of life, the tragedy awaiting us at every bend, and the uncertainties of the future cannot dampen the happiness and joy that awaits my discovery in every, single day.
And even if where you are, it's raining and cold; dreary and hopeless, there is still an ounce of happiness tucked away for you to find. When it's raining at my house, in both or either a figurative and literal way, I try to find the sunshine. If it's raining outside, gladness finds me in the fact that my flowers are being watered to grow wise and strong. If it's raining inside, happiness finds me with the knowledge that I am being watered to grow wise and strong, just like my flowers. If there was nothing in the world to be happy about - no sunshine, no flowers, no happy faces, no dewdrops, no beauty - there still would be. If life was as terrible as it could possibly be, we would still have hope.
Two thousand years ago, God came to live on earth with His old friends who had long walked away from Him. Some of them changed their minds and began to love Him, but others hated Him with a passion indescribable. He was the King of the Universe, but they treated Him like a servant. He was the Creator of all, but they turned their haughty eyes up at Him, regardless of the facts that He fashioned them in their mothers' wombs, that He sustained their every breath; that all life was held in His hand. They killed Him one cruel, unfathomable day, and in their own wicked hearts thought that He was removed from them forever. Life hung in the balance for three dark days, and even heaven itself held its breath.
Until the morning. Death and hell were blinded by rays of light as the Son of God ascended from the depths of hell with the keys of life in His hands. Stunned, astonished and speechless, they watched Him soar beyond galaxies with triumph in His grasp, healing in His nail-pierced hands, love in the heart that the world could not hold; conscious of a Power stronger than rain, stronger than darkness, stronger than death. He was alive, and all heaven rejoiced. The epic had been told. It was finished. Life had conquered death.
No matter what any of us may ever go through, there is always sunshine to find. Mine happens to be strong this morning, taking the form of a song, lifting itself through my voice and carrying it over and beyond the fields that dance, the trees that clap, and this heart that soars.
Saturday, March 22, 2008
Tuesday, March 18, 2008
Living Intentionally
Every now and then, something rocks my fairly stable world. It has to be something significant and completely relevant to me, otherwise it won't really "hit home". This past week, something has both shook my stable world and hit home in my heart.
Our neighbors, Chuck and Sherri Leason and their two two teenagers, Tyler and McKenzie, have been some of the neatest people we've known ever since we first met them. They are a typical, happy, Christian home school family with a nice mom, nice dad, and nice kids with a nice house in a nice community (Our community! I could add with nice neighbors, too, but that would be too obvious. :). Everything nice, that is, until last week.
Mr. Leason had been having severe headaches for a few days in a row while his wife, Sherri, was on a trip visiting family in Minnesota. When Mr. Leason informed his wife that he felt like his body was going numb, Mrs. Leason came back immediately and took him into a natropath doctor. They were told he was simply fighting a head cold and sinus infection. Not so sure they felt okay with this explanation, the couple went to their medical doctor for further analysis. What the doctor told them has changed their lives forever. Mr. Leason was diagnosed with brain cancer, in the fourth (worst) stage, and after a biopsy, the tumor was found to be in his brain stem and fast growing, getting to an enormous size in only two months. The doctors have proclaimed him beyond medical help.
His family, as devastated as they well should be, have not lost hope, but are pulling together in remarkable ways. Almost overnight, it seems, family members have been showing up from all around the country, pouring out their well-founded concern on kind Mr. Leason. My family and many of the families of our friends, have had the blessing of helping the Leasons during their time of need with healthful, all-raw, all-organic, meals. With only a few days left to decide whether or not they want to do chemotherapy, the Leasons are going all-out on natural remedies - the balanced prescription of a natural doctor who has helped many people out of scary situations like this one. Besides all of that, however, Mr. Leason stands this moment on the verge of death. Every day is just another lived through and another moment closer to his fast approaching destiny.
My Dad visited him in the hospital, just two nights before he was released to come home, and came home with a shining report. No, the cancer hadn't disappeared, and no, the doctor hadn't announced that he was heading towards a better direction. But Dad had a story to tell. He walked right into the ICU room and saw the nurses, Sherri and Chuck. Chuck was sitting up in bed, talking in an animated way with his wife, and they both were delighted to see my Dad. And then Mr. Leason began to talk. He talked and talked and talked, my Dad told us. We were shocked. Mr. Leason - talk? He was the kind of guy who was kind and thoughtful, so much so that he had a reputation for it, but who was so quiet that in the midst of a chattering group, he'd just stand to the side, smiling and nodding, holding his wife's hand. He wasn't shy, but he wasn't a talker, either. Then Dad went on to tell us that Mr. Leason didn't say a thing about how distressing his situation was, only how great it was for him to be in a place of great ministry. He was delighted that he could shine the love of Christ to so many medical professionals, and felt that Jesus had him there for that purpose. He laughed over and over again with my Dad, telling him how God was blessing him as he sat there in that bed, with a hole in his head (from the biopsy) and cancer spreading terminally throughout his body. And then he said something interesting. He told my Dad, "As soon as I get out of here, things are going to change in my life and my family's. It's time to live intentional."
That buzzed around in my brain for awhile until my brother, Stephen, and my sister, Rachel, went to visit them with my Dad after Mr. Leason had been brought home, just yesterday afternoon.
"Mr. Leason," Stephen said, upon his return, "was sitting up at the kitchen table when we walked in the house. He was laughing with his sister and daughter," Stephen's eyes showed what I was thinking: surprise. "He shook Dad's hand and wouldn't let go of it for a long time. When he shook my hand, he didn't let go of it until it was time to leave. He told me that as soon as he was over this, he was going to write so many books on the power of God and the evidence of Him in our lives; he said that his family was going to be active for Christ, and that we we going to have the greatest community ever. He said that there were so many people ready to receive Christ and in fact, his own sister received Jesus in her heart that very morning. He was so passionate," my brother said, "and by the way he held my hand, it was like he was trying to tell me something so important, and something so time-sensitive that he didn't even know if he had enough time to tell me. When you walked in the room, the grace of God was absolutely there. I could feel it."
And then it struck me. That's what living intentional is all about. It's about having a purpose, a goal, a desire...an intent, that consumes you, inflames you, and empowers you to fulfill it. A person has never floated through life and lived intentionally, with a goal, with a vision. And just then something else struck me. No one has ever achieved anything spectacular without being intentional. People don't simply wake up one morning to the knowledge of, "Hey, I'm a best-selling author!" Or, "Wha'd'ya know, I'm a movie star!" Or even, "I'm the pastor of the largest church in Kentucky - and hello! I didn't even do a thing to get here!" That's impossible because it goes against logic. But then why is it that we Christians of the Gospel - the good news, the people of the very Word of God, and the people with the greatest responsibility to mankind, sit around and "wait" for the great happenings to happen? And why are we content to float through life with never a thought on what we're actually doing? This should bother a whole lot more people than it does. Why is it that it takes something as serious as a friend getting cancer to "wake" us up?
I'm determined not to wait until something dreadful plagues my life or those dearest to me before I live with a purpose. I shouldn't be planning on living with fiery goals, I should be living them. Anything can happen to any of us at any time. And it might be me next. Or you. That serves as enough reason for me to get off my couch, and out of my house, and into yours - and it should be for everyone.
Life doesn't last forever...or does it?
Our neighbors, Chuck and Sherri Leason and their two two teenagers, Tyler and McKenzie, have been some of the neatest people we've known ever since we first met them. They are a typical, happy, Christian home school family with a nice mom, nice dad, and nice kids with a nice house in a nice community (Our community! I could add with nice neighbors, too, but that would be too obvious. :). Everything nice, that is, until last week.
Mr. Leason had been having severe headaches for a few days in a row while his wife, Sherri, was on a trip visiting family in Minnesota. When Mr. Leason informed his wife that he felt like his body was going numb, Mrs. Leason came back immediately and took him into a natropath doctor. They were told he was simply fighting a head cold and sinus infection. Not so sure they felt okay with this explanation, the couple went to their medical doctor for further analysis. What the doctor told them has changed their lives forever. Mr. Leason was diagnosed with brain cancer, in the fourth (worst) stage, and after a biopsy, the tumor was found to be in his brain stem and fast growing, getting to an enormous size in only two months. The doctors have proclaimed him beyond medical help.
His family, as devastated as they well should be, have not lost hope, but are pulling together in remarkable ways. Almost overnight, it seems, family members have been showing up from all around the country, pouring out their well-founded concern on kind Mr. Leason. My family and many of the families of our friends, have had the blessing of helping the Leasons during their time of need with healthful, all-raw, all-organic, meals. With only a few days left to decide whether or not they want to do chemotherapy, the Leasons are going all-out on natural remedies - the balanced prescription of a natural doctor who has helped many people out of scary situations like this one. Besides all of that, however, Mr. Leason stands this moment on the verge of death. Every day is just another lived through and another moment closer to his fast approaching destiny.
My Dad visited him in the hospital, just two nights before he was released to come home, and came home with a shining report. No, the cancer hadn't disappeared, and no, the doctor hadn't announced that he was heading towards a better direction. But Dad had a story to tell. He walked right into the ICU room and saw the nurses, Sherri and Chuck. Chuck was sitting up in bed, talking in an animated way with his wife, and they both were delighted to see my Dad. And then Mr. Leason began to talk. He talked and talked and talked, my Dad told us. We were shocked. Mr. Leason - talk? He was the kind of guy who was kind and thoughtful, so much so that he had a reputation for it, but who was so quiet that in the midst of a chattering group, he'd just stand to the side, smiling and nodding, holding his wife's hand. He wasn't shy, but he wasn't a talker, either. Then Dad went on to tell us that Mr. Leason didn't say a thing about how distressing his situation was, only how great it was for him to be in a place of great ministry. He was delighted that he could shine the love of Christ to so many medical professionals, and felt that Jesus had him there for that purpose. He laughed over and over again with my Dad, telling him how God was blessing him as he sat there in that bed, with a hole in his head (from the biopsy) and cancer spreading terminally throughout his body. And then he said something interesting. He told my Dad, "As soon as I get out of here, things are going to change in my life and my family's. It's time to live intentional."
That buzzed around in my brain for awhile until my brother, Stephen, and my sister, Rachel, went to visit them with my Dad after Mr. Leason had been brought home, just yesterday afternoon.
"Mr. Leason," Stephen said, upon his return, "was sitting up at the kitchen table when we walked in the house. He was laughing with his sister and daughter," Stephen's eyes showed what I was thinking: surprise. "He shook Dad's hand and wouldn't let go of it for a long time. When he shook my hand, he didn't let go of it until it was time to leave. He told me that as soon as he was over this, he was going to write so many books on the power of God and the evidence of Him in our lives; he said that his family was going to be active for Christ, and that we we going to have the greatest community ever. He said that there were so many people ready to receive Christ and in fact, his own sister received Jesus in her heart that very morning. He was so passionate," my brother said, "and by the way he held my hand, it was like he was trying to tell me something so important, and something so time-sensitive that he didn't even know if he had enough time to tell me. When you walked in the room, the grace of God was absolutely there. I could feel it."
And then it struck me. That's what living intentional is all about. It's about having a purpose, a goal, a desire...an intent, that consumes you, inflames you, and empowers you to fulfill it. A person has never floated through life and lived intentionally, with a goal, with a vision. And just then something else struck me. No one has ever achieved anything spectacular without being intentional. People don't simply wake up one morning to the knowledge of, "Hey, I'm a best-selling author!" Or, "Wha'd'ya know, I'm a movie star!" Or even, "I'm the pastor of the largest church in Kentucky - and hello! I didn't even do a thing to get here!" That's impossible because it goes against logic. But then why is it that we Christians of the Gospel - the good news, the people of the very Word of God, and the people with the greatest responsibility to mankind, sit around and "wait" for the great happenings to happen? And why are we content to float through life with never a thought on what we're actually doing? This should bother a whole lot more people than it does. Why is it that it takes something as serious as a friend getting cancer to "wake" us up?
I'm determined not to wait until something dreadful plagues my life or those dearest to me before I live with a purpose. I shouldn't be planning on living with fiery goals, I should be living them. Anything can happen to any of us at any time. And it might be me next. Or you. That serves as enough reason for me to get off my couch, and out of my house, and into yours - and it should be for everyone.
Life doesn't last forever...or does it?
Monday, March 10, 2008
When It's Dark
My heart is going through an immense season of growth. I say this because I am convinced that just when it hurts the most (life, that is) it must mean I am simply growing in grace, and more like Jesus Christ. Whoever said it was fun?Christianity is not about feeling better with yourself and it's certainly not a fast ticket to heaven. Christianity is not a dreamy, painless cruise through life. It's not about gaining the favor of a God who will give you the shortcuts through through the hard times, or a God who will see to it that you get the easiest road. It's not about being pain-free and as light as air.
I'll tell you what it is. It's hard. It's rough. It's grinding. It's full of pain. But that's the Christian walk. Rocky. Painful. Trying. No wonder when people in general have come to see Christianity as a glamorous way of life (by the way we advertise it, I might add) they are stumped and flabbergasted when they find out how hard it actually is. No, Christianity, period, is not easy. In fact, as long as Christianity remains on earth it will be the hardest religion to embrace. Even in America. That's unfortunate, but realistic, anyway. But let me give you a brighter picture.
Though the gospel of Jesus Christ is not about lovely sunrises and perfect sunsets, and though it is about hard climbs throughout life and the difficult understanding of His truths, the beauty of Christianity is summed up in few words. When it's hard, when it hurts, when it's dark, when you can't see, when you're holding onto the tiniest strand of hope - or when there's none to hold at all, He's right there, with you through it all. He never promised to give us sunny freeways, but if anything, He has promised rocky, rainy roads. But when it's hard, He speaks to us. When it hurts, He holds us. Though He doesn't banish the clouds away, He sits in the dark with us, holding our hand.
It's dark and I can't see, but He's still here. He can see far better than I can - even in the dark.
Saturday, February 23, 2008
Birthday Shots
My friend, Leah, did me a rather interesting favor when she visited me - one I wasn't in the least bit expecting. She grabbed her wonderful camera out of its case and took photos left and right!
However, as she is a wonderful photographer I will NOT complain. You can look at her blog here. She has many of her beautiful photos on there now and a link to my birthday photos. Have fun, and don't mind the silly pictures of me. Silly me! I mind them, certainly.
Monday, February 18, 2008
Just Another Birthday? I Don't Think So...
I am not one of those easily amused young people who think that turning eighteen is the greatest thing that ever occurred to them. Eighteen, to me, is far to adultish to even dwell upon. Half of me wants to grow up real fast - and be the person of my future immediantly. The other half of me dreads the pages of my life story I have not yet seen - and longs to stay right where I am - innocent, happy and carefree. It can be scary growing up, and I realize that for many people it actually is. I have decided to take as much of the scariness out of it as I possibly can - and portray a happy, blossoming adulthood - as charming and wonderful as it really is.
My birthday was simply beautiful. Those who surround my life with grace poured so many blessings over my head in words, actions, and deeds, that I feel I cannot ever repay them all. The goodness that God continually shows to me through those I love reminds me of how unworthy I am - and how worthy He is.
One of the greatest surprises that fell on me during my birthday celebration was the sudden appearence of my dear, sweet friend Leah Cross from Colorado. She was such a dear - never mentioned a word about wanting to come and see me for my birthday. That morning I had been hugely occupied with cleaning the house (a pastime, not surprisingly, I find myself doing often) - orders from my loving dad. He insisted that I clean very well - as a Valentine gift for my mother whom he was "taking out to lunch." When they called up about an hour earlier than I expected for two happy adults at lunch on Valentine's Day, announcing that they were on their way home, I was rather annoyed. And when they got home, I had, of course, been panting away as I tried to clear everything and scrub everything scrubbable in sight. Dad came upstairs with a flushed and excited face and told all of us kids to sit down at the table and wait for Mom to come upstairs. Sit at the table? Why ever? I sat down with my head in my hands. As soon as I saw Mom land at the top of the stairs, I saw a girlish figure next to her, blue eyes, regular beam and everything. Her face was familiar. I knew who she was. Wait! It was Leah! But she was in Colorado - what on earth! Was I dreaming? No, there she was, with her awful camera and everything, literally taking in every expression on my spellbound face.
We have had a blast this week. I can't say that any other birthday of mine has been more enjoyable. Everything has changed for me. I'm not seventeen anymore - I'm eighteen. But some things still stay the same. I'm still Sarah. Although I hope to grow stronger in grace, more steadfast in my faith, more joyful in my circumstances, more restless and posied for change, and above all - far closer to my Lord and Savior - yet I will always be Sarah. No matter what turn my life may take, I'm still, and always will be, me. As one famous poet quoted, "Change the world, but never let it change you."
Thursday, February 14, 2008
Winter Musings
The beauty of my surroundings has been compelling me for some time to share its delights. Finally, I have yielded. Every morning when I wake up, my eyes witness the epitome of the ecstasy of winter. My heart sings.
the landscape of winter
...silhouettes against the sky.
rachel & me at the summit (of our roof!) 
the landscape of winter
sweet benaiah
rachel, bethany & joel
under a winter sky
on top of our 35' roof
stephen in action
the peak of our snow-capped roof...
the peak of our snow-capped roof...
...silhouettes against the sky.
micah, isaac & benaiah
our happy daddy
rachel & me at the summit (of our roof!)
winter's song.
This masterpiece is what I see every winter evening just off our front deck. It reminds me that no matter what I may be going through, God's still there - here - with us.
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