Happy Thanksgiving

I feel like I haven’t written anything in ages.  I miss writing.  But writing requires time.  Or at least, good writing requires time.  And time is something that I’ve been sorely lacking…  And something that sometimes I feel as though I’m running out of.  I feel like there is never enough time.  Time for God, time for family, time for friends…  It’s hard to juggle it all at once, and try to find that perfect balance.  I have yet to find it though, so I’m still juggling.

I’ve been 17 for over a month now.  I’m still getting used to that fact.  It’s odd.  The older I get, the younger and more inexperienced I feel.  Every once in a while I stop and realize “Wow… I’m 17.”  Mostly when I’m asking permission to do something that my parents have said no to in the past and I’m shocked when I get a yes this time.  It’s then that I stop and think “Oh yeah… I’m 17.  The last time I asked about doing that, I was 12…”

This month has been wonderful.  We just got finished having an 8 day revival at our church with Bro. Ken Freeman.  It was amazing.  Incredible.  I’ve never seen so many people all gathered together at one place before in my life.  It was phenomenal to see so many young people attending church on a Friday night, and again on a Saturday night, especially knowing that there were so many other places they could have been instead of spending the evening at church.  God has really moved in our town this month.  I’m beyond excited to see what else He has in store for us.

This week has been great.  My grandparents have been in from Indiana since last Friday.  Saturday we took Micah to the Frank Buck Zoo.  It was cool, but I probably would have enjoyed it more had I not been hungry, cold, and tired.  Not a good mix for me.  Sunday and Monday were spent mostly out of town, doing various things, such as eating at The Texas Roadhouse to celebrate Seth and Noah’s birthdays, and going to watch the Warriors basketball game to support our teams.

Tuesday I spent the day shopping at the Frisco mall with my Mom, my grandmother, and Thomas.  We had a great time.  Thomas and I went ice skating.  I lost count of how many times I fell down, and I have a very impressive and very purple bruise on my knee to show for it.  But it was awesome, and definitely worth the bruising.

Wednesday was the first day that we actually stayed home and didn’t do anything.  Or at least, I didn’t do anything.  Mom and Grammy spent the whole day cooking and baking.  And the results of their labor were amazing. We actually ate our “official” Thanksgiving meal last night, with the whole family save for the exception of Aaron and Dad who spent the greater part of the evening working at the airport.  Today we just had leftovers.

This year, I successfully convinced everyone that we should eat BBQ chicken instead of turkey.  I am sick and tired of turkey.  We’ve had turkey, every single year for Thanksgiving and Christmas, for as long as I can remember.  And I could live on BBQ, to boot.  I could eat BBQ’ed something every day for the rest of my life, and I would most likely never get tired of it.  That, or Mexican food.  I LOVE Mexican food.  But if it ain’t BBQ, or Mexican, it’d better be Italian.  I like Italian food, also.  But not as much as I love BBQ and Mexican food.  So anyway, I was pretty happy that we had BBQ chicken instead of turkey.  For Christmas dinner, I’m voting to eat Mexican!

I have so many things to be thankful for in my life.  But what (or who) I’m most thankful for, is Jesus.  I’m thankful for His love, and His forgiveness.  He is the only thing that holds my world together, even when it’s crashing down all around me.  His love is amazing.  And His forgiveness is unfathomable.

Tomorrow Patrick (who’s here for the weekend) and I are going to get up around 3:30-4:00 a.m. so I can leave the house by 4:30 a.m. to go brave the Black Friday crowds to see about getting some sweet deals on a few things I’ve been wanting.  I’ve never actually been Black Friday shopping before, so I’m pretty excited.  I’m just hoping that I don’t get trampled to death by the angry mobs at Wal-Mart…

So, there you have it.  Perhaps I’ll have something better to say in another 2 months or so.

Happy Thanksgiving!

-Sarah Anne

Hurting People Hurt People

I should probably apologize for my prolonged silence.  There’s just been so much going on…  And for the most part, my heart has been too full for words.  It’s often hard to write out what it is exactly that I’m feeling, too.  So, instead of trying to define my feelings towards recent events with words, I’ll simply attempt to state what’s been going on with me lately.

I’ve had a wonderful summer.  I’m almost sorry to see it end, but there is so much that I’m looking forward to this fall.  For once I can actually look back on a summer and think “I did just about everything that I wanted to do.  And I didn’t feel like a lazy bum the whole time, either!”.  That’s pretty good, considering I usually feel like a lazy bum by the end of most summers.  I’ve been insanely busy, which is a really good thing, for me at least.  I love being busy.  Although I will admit, at the beginning of this week I was feeling pretty stressed out with everything going on, but with this week half-way over and behind me, I’m feeling less stressed about next week.  I start work Tuesday morning.  Which further complicates my Tuesdays, that were already pretty much booked anyway, but I am looking forward to it.

Change has been a definite theme lately.  But I’m not complaining.  For the most part, it’s been good changes.  And then, there’s been the hard changes, which I’ve come to accept with time.

I’ve come to learn that I can adjust to anything.   It doesn’t matter what comes my way, or what happens in my life, God IS faithful, and He will never give me more than I can handle.  Although, sometimes He knows that I can handle so much more than what I think I can.  But all in all, I’ve come to realize that I can adjust to anything, with God’s constant help.  Isaiah 43:2—He wasn’t kidding.

I’m afraid of what I don’t understand.  And there is so much in this world that I don’t understand.  I don’t understand people.  And it’s frustrating.  I don’t understand God half the time.  And it’s frustrating.  I don’t like it when I don’t understand the reason “why”.  That word has to be my number one over used phrase… “Why?”.  I seem to be asking that every time I turn around, lately.

“Why am I here? I don’t want to be here. Why can’t I be over there? God, I would much rather be over there, really, I would!”

“God, are You SURE this is what You want me to do? I really would rather not have to do this, really… Okay, frankly, I do NOT want to do this… Are You SURE???”

And that’s about how more than half of my conversations with God go. 

But as for being afraid of what I don’t understand… I don’t understand algebra.  And I’m afraid of what I don’t understand.  Which is only one of the many examples that I could give of things that make me want to fold up like an emotional lawn chair and deny their very existence in my world.  Because whether  I like it or not, I’m a typical human being.  I’m afraid of what I don’t understand.  I think we’re all afraid of what we don’t understand, to some extent.  There are so many of us who say “I don’t understand that, so it must be wrong/bad/evil”.  I am one of those people.  Generally, if I don’t understand something or someone, I don’t want anything to do with it.  I really have to work on that, too.  Because about 80% of the time, just because I don’t understand them, that doesn’t mean they’re wrong/bad/evil.  It just means that I don’t know enough about it/them to be able to make a sound decision yet.

A lot of people are like that with Jesus and Christianity.  They don’t understand Him, or His followers.  And so, they want nothing to do with Him.  And sometimes, we as Christians only convince them even more strongly by our actions that they definitely do not want anything to do with Jesus, because we’re not everything that we claim to be.  I am one of those people.  I’m not always everything that I want to be.  I often find it hard to walk in love and forgiveness.  I have a vengeful nature and more often than not I find it hard to forgive people immediately or freely.  I often go about witnessing to people the wrong way.  I have too much of a “shove it down your throat” approach when I’m trying to share my faith with people.   I have a temper that often gets lost (but I always seem to find it again, lol), and a mouth that’s often too ready to say the first thing off the top of my head, which almost always ends up being the most hurtful things that I could ever possibly say to someone.  Thinking before I speak, and being angry but not sinning isn’t easy for me.  And, I’m a snob.  I have a hard time reaching out to people who aren’t like me, or people who I seem to think “aren’t good enough” for me.  Which is wrong.  In God’s eyes, I’m no better than they are.  We’re all in the same boat.  I’m no better than anyone else.

These aren’t things I’m proud of.  They are simply facts that I’m willing to admit about the areas in my life that I’m committing to work on, with God’s help.

“Hurting people hurt people.”

Think about it. That statement says it all. Why is it that I always hurt the ones I love the most when I’m hurting myself?  And I tend to push them away, because I don’t “need” them.  I can “fix” this.  On my own.  By myself.  I don’t “need” anyone.  I want to be completely self-sufficient.  Most of us are like that.  But the reality is that we can’t make it on our own.  We need someone, or something.  And so we try to fill our empty voids with materialistic things, hoping that these things will dissolve our aching voids and take away the pain.  But the things we try to fill our voids with are insufficient, and they aren’t what we need.  The One we need is often the One who we tend to push away the most.  We need Jesus.  But why is it so hard to understand that?

It’s hard to hand everything over to Jesus and let Him fix it when we know that we can’t fix it ourselves.  Trusting Him completely and not “being in control”, the way we like to think we are, is easier said than done.

So there you have it,  just a few of the thoughts that’s been running through my head lately.

-Sarah Anne

P.S. Vincent, I updated!

Oklahoma Escapade

Tuesday afternoon I had quite an experience. I made a 15 minute drive in 2 hours. Because I’m talented like that, you know.

I’m a new driver. And a directionally challenged one, at that. Vincent or Klint either one could attest to this after their brief experience with trying to follow my directions from my house to Blockbusters 3 years ago.

So Tuesday afternoon when Mom was about to run to the Dollar Store to pick up a bag of dog food, I didn’t hesitate to volunteer to do the errand for her. After all, she was in the middle of making and canning pear butter, and I am a new driver, so of course I’d jump at any chance to drive. Relieved that she wouldn’t have to stop in the middle of her canning project, she surrendered the keys to the suburban. As I was about to walk out the door, she called me back with the brilliant idea that while I was out, I could stop by April’s house and pick up some of Mom’s canning jars that April had borrowed last year, and I could hang out with Autumn for a couple of hours. It sounded like a good plan to me. I’d been dying to talk to Autumn anyway, and driving to her house meant I’d get to drive even longer, so of course I was game for it.

So as Mom was on the phone confirming plans with April, I started out the door. Mom calls after me:

“Are you sure you know where they live?!”,

And me, being the know-it-all that I am, said:

“Oh yeah, I’m sure I do. You just go over the bridge and turn right,”

Mom nodded, since she was still on the phone with April, and sent me on my way.

So off I went to the Dollar General, feeling cooler than ice with my shades on and the radio playin’, and drivin’ ALL BY MYSELF. I even managed to park at the Dollar General correctly! Yess sirr, I was hot stuff!

So I whipped in to the store, purchased a bag of dog food, had a lengthy and interesting conversation with two amusing (and cute as all get out) little girls who were shopping for their brand new puppy, and was out of the store and on my way to Autumn’s house in less than 15 minutes.

Unfortunately, Mom and I failed to discuss WHICH bridge I was supposed to cross. Apparently, there are two bridges in my area. One of them is an actual bridge, and the other is a dam that goes over the Pat Mayse lake. I was SUPPOSED to cross the “bridge” that goes over the Pat Mayse lake. Instead, I missed my turn, and I crossed the bridge that goes over the Red River and I drove over the state line right into Oklahoma.

Seeing a “Welcome To Oklahoma!” sign really threw me for a loop, but Mom had told me that their house was still a long ways down the road once I got off the bridge, so I continued on, feeling thoroughly confused and trying in vain to remember whether “Chicota” was in Texas or Oklahoma.

I finally came to a right turn that went to a place called “Frogsville”, so I figured that I had nothing to lose, so I might as well turn in here and look for their house. So I turned into “Frogsville” and went quite a ways down the road before I decided that I was lost. Well, technically, I wasn’t lost. I knew how to get home. No matter what, I could have found my way home. I just didn’t know where Autumn’s house was! So I pulled over to the side of the road (which happened to be a cornfield, because there wasn’t a shoulder on the road) and grabbed my cell phone and called Mom. I told her that I’d gone over the bridge and how far I’d come and that I still hadn’t found their house yet. She said “Oh, you haven’t gone far enough yet!”. So I got off the phone with her, turned around, and went back the way I’d come. As I was driving along, there was a medium sized rock on the side of the road. I didn’t swerve to miss the rock, because it wasn’t very big, and I could have sworn it was a rock. Well, as I ran over the “rock”, I heard the sickening sound of a cracking shell, and a definite “SPLAT”. I looked in my rear view mirror where I could clearly see that the “rock’s” guts were now spread all over the road. Great. I’d hit a baby turtle. So much for my spotless roadkill record. I felt horrible about killing the baby turtle, but since I can’t drive and cry at the same time, I opted to just drive, and I proceeded to get back on the main highway and went several more miles down the road.

As soon as I saw the green sign on the side of the highway that read “Hugo 15″ and “Antlers 20″, I knew I was NOT where I needed to be. So I pulled over to the shoulder, turned on my emergency flashers, prayed that an Oklahoma state trooper wouldn’t stop to ask me what was wrong, and I called Mom again on my cell phone. I said:

“Hi Mom. I just passed a sign telling me how many more miles til I come to Hugo and Antlers”.

She replied:

“Sarah! Are you in OKLAHOMA? Don’t you know we don’t go to Oklahoma to get to April’s house? You crossed the wrong bridge!”.

Oops. Okay. So I hung up, and got back on the highway, and took the first U turn I came to, and I didn’t get very far down the road before I passed an Oklahoma state trooper. Thankfully, nothing happened, because there’s nothing wrong with my driving skills, just my directional skills.

So 20 minutes later, I was back in my own town where I’d started. Now I had to guess which turn I needed to take to find the road I wanted to get on, because Mom had failed to give me a road number, which would have helped tremendously. Instead I spent another 15 minutes taking wrong turns, turning around, and coming back to where I had started in the first place. Finally, I called Mom, again. I was feeling pretty frustrated with myself. It was about the 3rd time I’d called when Mom gave me actual directions, complete with road numbers.

So I got off the phone with her, for the 3rd time, turned around for what seemed like the 20th time, and got back on the highway, and finally found the road that I should have been on 1 hour and 45 minutes earlier. I was definitely thanking God that I had a full tank of gas.

Though I was going in the right direction this time, I took yet another wrong turn and had to turn around AGAIN before I finally got on the RIGHT road, and finally found their house. Of course, I only found it, because I’d passed it once, and so they called me on my cell phone and I was able to turn around (again) and see Autumn and her friend Kailey running half way down the road after me.

So, all in all, I got to visit for about 45 minutes because I’d spent the majority of my visiting time getting lost, and I made it home in 15 minutes because this time I definitely knew where I was going. And Mom got her canning jars about 3 and a half hours later than she’d expected them.

I felt absolutely, beyond stupid. Next time, I’m asking for detailed instructions, complete with road numbers, before I set out on my own, thinking I know it all, haha.

-Sarah Anne

Lazy Summer

I don’t seem to be very blog savvy these days.  All the thoughts currently running through my head are not really worth writing down.

My summer has been a good summer. Slow, yet busy at the same time. Although when I think about it, I realize that I’ve done almost absolutely nothing this summer. I’ve attempted several things, yes. But completed hardly any of them, unfortunately.

One of the more recent things I’ve attempted was to get registered for fall classes at the local junior college. As soon as I walked in to the admissions office and stated that I was home schooled, and still in high school for that matter, I was told that in order to take the classes I wished to take (beginning algebra), I’d have to test in to college algebra. This really didn’t set well with me. I’ve been struggling with algebra for the past 2 years now. It is by far my weakest point in my entire high school career. So I decided to seek some outside help, by taking some on hand algebra classes, as opposed to what I’ve tried in the past. BUT, if I could do college algebra, which obviously I’d have to be able to do in order to pass the college algebra exam, WHY oh WHY would I even need beginning algebra?! Frustrating? Nooo, not at all… So now I’m studying to take the accuplacer test to see how far I can get with that.

I finally did finish driver’s ed, and I got my driver’s license, thank God for that. It’s a good feeling to have that completed and off my shoulders. Although I still don’t have a vehicle to drive, because Dad’s too busy getting Aaron through flight school so he’ll already have his pilot’s license when he leaves for college in August to work on the old suburban, which still needs quite a bit done before it’s road worthy again.

Speaking of which, Aaron is leaving for college in less than a month. A few weeks, really. As much as I hate to admit it, I’m going to miss him. I’m not really ready for him to leave… Until he does crazy things and inconveniences my life, then I’m more than ready for him to leave! But no really, I will miss him, and I’ll probably bawl my eyes out for a long time when he packs up and leaves for college.

I’m so ready for enrichment classes to start again. I miss my friends. And I miss feeling productive. It’s going to be weird this season since I’m not playing basketball again. I’m going to miss playing this season. But I’m hoping to spend this fall working towards a diploma. I only have biology and algebra left to finish and I will be done with high school. Of course, that’s much easier said than done. But that’s my goal, anyway.

Really, I feel like the only thing I’ve done all summer is read and sleep. Not that I’m complaining. I love reading, and sleeping. But this summer has been interesting. It’s been a good summer, but it’s also been a hard summer. A really hard summer. Last summer I had basketball stuff to keep me occupied, but since I’m not playing this season, I don’t have basketball practices or scrimmages or anything. So I haven’t gotten to see my friends very much, which makes me sad. But enrichment classes are up again starting soon!

This summer I assisted in the building of a very important fence. For Thomas’ Eagle Project, he chose to build a fence around the ball park behind our local civic center. Of course, originally I was only there to take pictures. But I’m never satisfied with being just an observer. I wanted in on the action too, I couldn’t let the guys have all the fun. So after taking about 233 pictures I pitched in and drove some T-posts and applied clips to hold the slick wire fencing in place. It was quite an experience. I had a lot of fun, even though I ended up being the only girl in a group of 9 guys. And I have a whole new respect for fences… Especially STRAIGHT fences.

-Sarah Anne

Memories

I’m on a strike.  A “I’m not unpacking my suitcase until I’m good and ready to” strike. I’ve been home for almost 2 weeks now, and I still have yet to unpack my massive suitcase, save for the few clothes that I’ve worn and rewashed a couple of times. There just doesn’t seem to be a point in unpacking. I’ll only have to pack again. And every time I DO unpack my suitcase, we end up taking another trip almost immediately after I get everything unpacked! So, I’m on a strike.  As soon as I get tired of tripping over my suitcase every time I walk in the door, I will unpack.

I am tired. I haven’t had a full night’s sleep in a week. Last night and the night before that I spent going through my box. Not my box, as in just any box (because my bedroom consists of several boxes, which are all, indeed, mine), but “MY” box, as in the box that contains half of the relics that were salvaged from the first 16 years of my existence (And much more to come. The contents are added to quite often). It’s all the cute, funny, unintelligible, incomprehensible, and demented things I’ve drawn, written, or made through out the years.

I love the fact that my Mom saved EVERYTHING. Or at least, ALMOST everything. It’s great. From the crazy picture I drew and titled “Daddy” when I was 5, to the terribly funny notes I wrote in church in regards to the sermon that was being preached. Oh, and my drawing of Jesus and a couple of his disciples is priceless. And the photographs are too funny. And all the stories I wrote, they are just too hilarious for words. I found a paper from a notebook that I had written when I was 13, and it is honestly one of the most depressing things I’ve ever read, or written! I remember writing it, too. I had written it in one of my personal notebooks on one of the days that I was really upset over something or other (I can’t even remember which thing/person/situation I was upset about when I wrote it!). It was one of those things that I definitely never meant for anyone else to read! A couple of months ago I was cleaning out my room, and I found all these notebooks with a ton of blank pages, so I flipped through them, tore out my own drawings, and gave them to Micah to use.  Apparently I missed this ” drama queen journal entry” (it was more like a prayer that I’d written on paper to God), but Mom found it and saved it. When I read it Sunday night, I was laughing so hard I almost cried. It’s absolutely hilarious to read it now, and remember how serious about it I was back then. Some of my favorite phrases that I used were things such as “I’m just God’s problem child!” and “I swear I was born to let you down”. There, now I’m laughing about it again! I made everyone in my family read it, so that they might share in my hilarity. I suppose they didn’t find it as funny as I did, because they were too caught up in asking “Wow, did you REALLY feel this way? Sarah, that’s horrible! That’s so sad!” while I’m lying on the floor laughing hysterically, insisting that it’s much too funny to be sad.

And I found my treasured picture of myself petting a baby alligator in Ft. Lauder dale!  Well, I didn’t exactly find the picture, but I found the negative, and I’m going to get another copy of the picture made at CVS today. I think I’d like to enlarge it and frame it.

I wish I was as fearless now as I was then. I found another picture of myself petting an angry horse behind a fence with a sign that read “Caution: I Bite!”, and an overly concerned looking woman who was apparently trying to convince me that I didn’t want to pet the horse.

Childhood memories are the best.

-Sarah Anne

Be Still And Know That He Is God.

Some days I wish that I was too busy to even think. If I couldn’t think about things, then I couldn’t be affected by them. Or at least, that is my theory. Some times it’s good not to think about things. When I take time to think things over, I end up plaguing myself with so many “what if” lines, that I ultimately over analyze my situation, and decide against doing what I really want to do. “Just do it and don’t think about it” is what I end up telling myself a lot lately. Going with my gut feeling, and dealing with the “what ifs” later seems to be a good plan.

The hardest thing and the right thing are often the same thing. Doing the right thing is hardly ever considered easy, although I wish it were. Tough love is hard. If I weren’t so stubborn, and if I weren’t so sure that I’m doing the right thing, I’d love to recant and forget about my resolve at this point. But I can’t. So I won’t. But that doesn’t stop me from wishing I could… Or feeling terribly bad about it, and being fairly unhappy over it all.

“Be still and know that I am God” has been running through my mind a lot lately. It’s one of those things that is much easier said than done. Being a control freak, it’s hard to be still and let go of things. What’s even harder is to be still and know that He IS God, and He IS in control. But I’m learning. Slowly, but surely. Sunday during the morning church service I was filled with sudden inspiration, and I spent the rest of the sermon writing poetry with that theme in my notebook. I think I’d like to try my hand at setting my words to music. Although I’m not sure if writing inspired poetry instead of listening to the sermon during church was wrong or not…

I think we might be going to my grandparents house in a week or so. I really hope so, which is contrary for me. I like being home, and usually I cringe at the idea of packing and being away from home. Especially since I just finished unpacking from the last trip to their house, which was only two months ago. I think I must be desperate to DO something. I want to be so busy I don’t have time to think. I miss being busy. And I miss being with my friends on a regular basis. Right now I’m just lucky if I run in to someone at Walmart. Although Saturday I finally got together with Katherine and Hannah at the lake, and we had a blast. I really like that particular lake. It’s the closest thing to a beach that I can find within reasonable driving distance.

It’s so strange to look back on events and happenings that took place only 4-6 months ago. It all seems like it was such a long time ago, almost as if it had all taken place in a different life time entirely.

I think that’s all I’ve got to say at this moment. Several things are laying heavy on my heart right now, but there isn’t a whole lot I can do about it, except pray.

-Sarah Anne

Thoughts: It’s Not Enough

“You don’t have to understand. Just know that you are living an honorable lifestyle that is pleasing to God”

That was one of the wisest statements I’ve heard in a long time. I realize that I get so caught up in wanting to understand the problem, and understand the cause or understand why people react the way they react or why they believe the way they believe, that I lose sight of what is really important. It doesn’t matter whether I understand those things or not, all that matters is that I know whether my own life is pleasing to God or not. I can’t worry about other peoples’ relationship with Him. I can only worry about my own. Which leads me to ask another query. IS my life pleasing to God? Or does He look at my life with disgust and ask me “Who and What are you living your life for?”. If someone was to ask me that question, I’d reply with out any hesitation, “God and His purposes”. But then I stop to think about that answer. Am I truly living to please God? Or myself? God knows I try, and He knows my heart, and He knows that my desire is to live for Him. But I try so hard, and I always seem to fail so miserably. Is trying enough? Is giving it my best enough?

I hate being told that I’m not enough. I hate it when I give everything for something and I pour my all in to it, and I’m told “I appreciate your effort. But it’s just not enough”. It’s equivalent to the feeling of having a cold glass of ice water poured over my head. And it stings like having salt, lemon juice, and rubbing alcohol poured over an open wound.

Relationships are important. And they require a lot of time and effort on both parts in order to grow and strengthen. I wonder what life would be like if we didn’t get so caught up in materialistic things, and we realized that the most important things in our lives are the relationships we’ve been privileged enough to have, with God, friends, and family.  If we didn’t have to worry about jobs, money, cars, houses, cell phones, computers, sports, or even what we’re going to wear to work/school the next day. And every other senseless thing we’ve jam packed in to our schedules. We get so busy, and so caught up in “life” that we forget what life is really all about.

What if we only focused on building our relationships with God and each other? What if we could always be there for our friends and family, no matter what? I’m pretty sure we’ve all said to our friends, at one point or another, “Hey, I’m here for you, no matter what, and any time you ever need me, just call me and I’ll be there”. Yet I can’t tell you how many times I’ve felt guilty because a friend really needed me, but I couldn’t be there for them because I was too busy with other things that seemed equally important at the time. And so I’d console them and sympathize with them over text messaging, or some other form of second hand communication.

I’m so tired of second hand communication. I’m ready to see my friends in person, and really talk to them, and really know what’s going with them in their lives. Text messaging, online IM, and phone conversations just won’t suffice. It isn’t the same, at all.  I’m thankful for those means of communication, of course. Sometimes it’s convenient, and sometimes I prefer that to actually seeing someone in person. But there’s just something about talking face to face. It’s easier to say everything that you want to say, and I love watching peoples’ expressions, and hearing the tone and expression in their voices. It gives me a clearer picture of what they’re thinking, and it makes me feel more connected to them. And it’s a lot harder to have the meaning of your words be distorted in person than it is online.

I love camp fire conversations. Those are the best. There’s just something about a camp fire that makes everyone feel closer. It can’t be explained. It just is. That’s my favorite part about camping. Actually, it’s the only thing I like about camping. Except for the stars, and s’mores and burnt roasted marshmallows. But if I could have a camp fire in my backyard, I’d never feel the need to go camping again.

-Sarah

Red

The color red makes me think of roses, blood, violence, the Warriors basketball team, and not to mention the horrible time my dad took my brothers and me to the drag races.  Red also happens to be one of my many favorite colors.

It was a Saturday night, and my mom was out of town, which means my dad was left to his own resources to find entertainment for the four of us kids. And so my dad thought it would be “fun” to spend the evening at the drag races.  Since I was only 10, I had no idea what a drag race was, and I really wasn’t too thrilled about going.  That evening I learned what the drag races were all about. The drag races are extremely loud. The roaring engines hurt my head and my ears. The screaming crowd doesn’t help much. The cars are all homemade, by men. And so it’s a race track full of loud, ugly cars.

We arrived at the drag races, bought some hot dogs and Coke from the nearby concession stand, sat  down on the benches, and waited for the races to start.  We had arrived at the races early because my dad got the times mixed up and thought that the races started at 7, but they really started at 8.  So, as we sat down eating our greasy hot dogs and sipping our Cokes, Noah and Seth (being about 4 and 6 at the time,) ran down to the end of the bleachers and found a wasp nest.  They began to provoke the wasps to the point that the wasps grew angry and stung them both.  My dad loaded us all back up in his car, drove us home, poured baking soda over the wasp stings, loaded us all back into the car, and we went  back to the races.

Everything was fine.  Dad had decided we would just sit on the benches and wait until eight o’clock.  About thirty minutes after the wasp episode, it started to rain.  “No big deal, kids, we’ll wait it out,” dad said.  So we waited.  About fifteen minutes after it had started to rain, the rain became hard and icy.  Hail.  By now it was 8:00 and other people had begun to arrive.  Everyone started to run for their cars.  Except for us.  We stayed under the sheltered bleachers.  Then the wind began to blow and it started to thunder and lightening.  The wind blew the hail under the metal canopy of the bleachers.  So now we were covering our faces to avoid being smacked with hail the size of golf balls.  But still, my dad insisted we shouldn’t leave.  The races would start anyway. We stayed under the bleachers for what seemed like 40 days and 40 nights. When Dad finally did decide that the races weren’t going to start (40 days and 40 nights later)  we started walking toward the car to find out that the parking lot was FLOODED.  Unfortunately, the only Noah we had with us had no clue how to build an ark, and we didn’t have enough time or patience to collect the animals, so that idea was scratched.  So we swam through the water, fought off the wild coyotes and other floating animals, bashed a shark or two in the head and finally reached our car.

After we were home again safe and dry, my dad couldn’t get any of us to go to the races with him again for years to come.  Although when I was 13, he pleaded with me and my brothers until we felt guilty, and were finally convinced to go to the race track in Pattonville with him.  I dragged Hannah along.  It was awful. Never again.  “It won’t be loud like the drag races at all, Sarah!  I promise!” my dad had said. I’m still suffering from hearing loss.  The only good thing about going  was the really hot guy wearing a red suit that was there.  Hannah swears he smiled at her, but I know for a fact that he did no such thing, because I was staring at him the whole time and I never once saw him look at either of us.

Another bonus was the old chain smoker with the serious nicotine addiction, who sat in front of us and smoked the whole night. He smoked twelve cigarettes while we were there. Hannah and I both counted, out of sheer boredom.  About a week after we went to the races, Hannah, Aaron and I went to this awesome concert at the Civic Center, where Hannah and I both saw the guy from the races again . . . with his girlfriend. I really hate race cars.

Softball

I’ve always had an infatuation with sport uniforms, or even just uniforms in general. I once wanted to play football just for the helmet. I’m thankful that when I expressed my interest in the sport, my parents didn’t think it was such a great idea. It’s nice to be able to say that I’ve never broken a bone in my body. I also briefly considered joining the army once, just for the uniform and the awesome combat boots. That, and the ads always make joining the army sound so heroic (which it is), and so glorious. How could you not, at one point or another, find yourself wondering what it would be like to be involved in something so meaningful and important? And what it would be like to wear those awesome combat boots…

My sort lived softball career was a good example of my undying infatuation with uniforms. I was 9 1/2 soon to be 10 years old, and stubbornly convinced that I would love softball. It was going to be  my sport. I had played T-Ball when I was 5, and I had a blast. I was on a team with all my friends, and I knew all the coaches. And the game was easy. You batted the ball that was already on the T, and you ran from base to base until one of the coaches told you to stop. It required very little physical exertion and hardly any mental effort what so ever. How much harder could softball be? Was it not the same thing as T-Ball, minus the stand? And the uniforms were much more professional looking in softball. I could embrace softball.

About 5 weeks in to the season, I found that I hated softball. Team spirit was non-existent, and a term I had never heard of. My team members were snobby towards me, because I was home schooled and I wasn’t part of their “click”. My coaches weren’t encouraging at all. I always got stuck playing in the outfield, where absolutely no action ever occurred. I caught the ball twice. And I made a single home run my whole season. And I hated the visor we had to wear as part of our uniform.  So I only played for my free snow cone at the end of every game. The highlight of my week was the blue sugar soaked lump of shaved ice in a styrofoam cup.

After my experience with softball, I silently vowed to myself that I would never, ever join another sport. Sports were not my thing, and I was going to be an artist, not a professional athlete. Of course, I did join another sport after all, and I loved every minute of it (especially my jersey uniform).  But about a month ago, I turned my jersey in for keeps. There is more to life than sports, for me at least. And I plan to pursue the “more than”.

What brought back my memories of my short lived softball career was that blue visor with the white “T” on it, that I hated wearing so much. I found it in my closet the other day. I was surprised to find that it still fits. I must have had a massive head as a little kid.

I finally got my portfolio for photography set up. I’m really happy with it. Check it out: www.sarahxanne.weebly.com

And I posted my opinion on hate crimes on YouTube: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6y3JJ5vzRl0

-Sarah

Shooting Stars

Sometimes we have moments in life that resemble shooting stars. The brilliance of the moment is fantastic and leaves you feeling awe struck, but it lasts only for an instant. I’ve had a lot of shooting star moments through out my life. Moments of complete happiness, or moments in which I didn’t think anything could ever make my life any better than it already was. But of course, nothing lasts forever. And my shooting star moments didn’t either. They eventually faded, leaving me with wishful, but beautiful memories.

It’s hard to keep reminding myself that virtually nothing lasts forever. I’m holding my breath, hoping and believing that somehow I can keep things from changing anymore than they already have. Part of me is afraid, and I find myself thinking “What will I lose next?”. Sometimes I think we get too comfortable with life. And when we get comfortable, that’s when things seem to change the most. Perhaps it’s because when we find ourselves feeling comfortable and safe, we tend to depend on God less. We tend to put Him away on the shelf again, as if we think we can pull Him back out on some later date, when we “actually need” Him again, because right now things are good, and we’re comfortable. So we shelf our prayer life, along with our relationship with Him.

Change. Change is something we all struggle with, like it or not. We get comfortable with the way things are, and we become happy and content. And when something changes, and it effects us, and our happiness, we become bitter about it. I wonder sometimes if I’m the only one who’s ever found themselves verbally screaming at God. But it’s in those moments when I’m so fed up that I’m screaming at God, and I’m so angry that I have hot tears streaming down my face, that God shows me the most amazing things. Things that are beyond my comprehension, or understanding. I think God must have a sense of humor. I can always imagine Him laughing at my irrationality and saying “Silly little girl, don’t you realize I’m in control? Don’t you realize that I know what’s best for you, and I don’t desire anything less than the very best for you?”.

One day I want to hear God laugh.

Recently I had a shooting star moment that lasted a little longer than the others ever did, but like all shooting stars, it’s flame could not endure. It’s been hard to accept, but I’ve felt peace about it. I realize that there IS more to life than this, and there isn’t any point in being upset about it, because God is still in control, and He always will be.

-Sarah Anne