Brought to You by the Letter L

Hi. My name is Sara, and I’m directionally challenged.

In other words, I’ve spent most of my life [L]ost.

I grew up on an acreage outside of a small town of about 5000 or so, and I could drive from our home to school, friends’ homes [sadly, some friends’ houses I’d get miserably lost every time], my mom’s work, church and McDonald’s. Beyond that, I was and still would be useless. And if you asked me for directions to get to my parents’ new home today… I’d have no ability to tell you how to get there.

I wish I was exaggerating.

The first time I became embarrassingly lost, I was in high school. I was going to visit my sister Laura on the western side of the state. Dad was giving me directions and he said, “You turn at the four corner intersection in Humboldt. You know, like when we go see Steve at college.”

I totally knew exactly where he was talking about. What I didn’t realize was he meant for me to turn right at that corner, not left like we did to visit Steve… on the eastern side of the state. I drove two hours in the wrong direction before I realized what I’d done and turned the car around. I called my sister to tell her I’d be late and swore her to secrecy… but as my visit went on I quickly realized everyone knew by the way they tried to stifle their laughter. I don’t think I’ve lived it down to this day.

I still blame it on Dad and his directions, though. He should have known better than to assume I knew which way to turn. :)

As hard as it is to believe, that wasn’t the worst example of me getting lost. And again, it totally wasn’t my fault. I’m sure you’ll agree with me on that point by the end of the story. :)

When I was in college, my friends Nicole, Heidi and I were all in a GenEd Nutrition class together.

I didn’t have a photo of all three of us handy, so here is me and Nicole:

and me and Heidi:

We discovered while talking during class [not that I would ever do such a disruptive kind of thing] that we all had good friends who attended Notre Dame. Over the course of the semester we found a weekend that worked for everyone and decided to take a road trip to the Penn State/Notre Dame game. [ND won by one point at the end of the 4th quarter. The crowd rushed the field and tore down the goal posts… it was so exciting.]

Anyway, I borrowed my brother Steve’s car and, since I would be in charge of driving, we decided whoever was in the passenger’s seat would be in charge of navigation. Did you all read that? Take a mental note: I was not in charge of navigation. We had to stop and buy maps of Iowa and Indiana since the only one in Steve’s car was of Wisconsin. We made it to Notre Dame by the skin of our teeth, not because of directions, but because we hit downtown Chicago at rush hour in the middle of a freaking blizzard. Getting through a storm like that should have been our biggest obstacle. Sadly, that was yet to come.

But we made it, we saw our friends, we went to parties [at which I discovered I was by far the least intelligent person in every room… I would never have made it at Notre Dame]… we enjoyed the football game and met up again for the long car ride home.

As it turns out, it was a bit longer than we originally anticipated.

It was the weekend before a big test, so while I drove and Heidi navigated from the passenger’s seat, Nicole was quizzing us off of note cards from the back seat. Unlike the blizzard on the way there, it was a gorgeous day, the sun was shining, we were chatting and listening to music and… oh yeah, studying… when Nicole piped up from the back seat:

“Uhm, guys? Are you noticing a lot of Wisconsin license plates?”

And just then, we noticed a sign for the Wisconsin Dells. And realized that most of the truck stops had huge wedges of cheese on their signage. We were heading back to Iowa… from Indiana… via Wisconsin.

I have seriously never laughed so hard in all of my life.

We stopped at the truck stop with the huge cheese wedge and fought for the one-stall bathroom because we all were about to pee our pants laughing. It only got worse when we realized that we needed that stupid Wisconsin map after all! Making the best of it, we put Nicole in the passenger’s seat to take over navigation duties and decided to take the map’s designated scenic route home… we figured if we were going to be driving for hours, we might as well have pretty trees to look at.

I hate to even mention that I almost missed the exit for our college when we were minutes from home. Because that part of the navigation would have totally been my fault, unlike the rest of it. :)

That is still one of my favorite trips of all time, and it absolutely bonded Nicole, Heidi and me for life. I don’t think there’s ever been a time when the three of us have been together where laughter wasn’t the main component. We’ve celebrated their weddings and their babies, new homes and new jobs. And while I think we would have been close regardless, I’m pretty sure that moment in Wisconsin sealed the deal on our friendship. Which is why I think always knowing where you’re going can be overrated.

Sometimes life’s best moments happen when you’re in the wrong place at the wrong time with the right people. I’d get lost with them again any day.

Alrighty… don’t forget to leave a comment with an [M] topic for next week’s post.

Hope you all had a wonderful Christmas!!!

The Real Story

When I think about being little and hearing the story of Jesus’ birth, I remember being amazed at such an important baby being born in a manger. I even remember being amazed that Mary said yes to the angel without a second thought. But mostly I remember having a romanticized version of the Nativity in my mind.

I pictured Mary serene and sure of herself. I imagined her smiling and joyful because such an amazing thing was asked of her. My mind saw her as she was in all the pictures and Nativity scenes… lovely, peaceful, wearing spotless garments, draped in blue and hair perfect. The barn looked clean and lovely, and the manger seemed as though it was always meant for a baby.

If only life were truly that picture perfect.

A few years ago, when The Nativity Story came out in theaters, I wanted to see it so badly. It looked like such a real depiction of the events, but I wasn’t able to go see it and honestly forgot about it shortly thereafter. This week I noticed it running on TNT, so I sat myself down to watch it and got lost in the story.

The real story. The one where their lives were full of the worry of work and taxes and what neighbors think of you. The story where Mary says yes to the angel, but walks away with questions and concerns. The one where Joseph needs coaxing to believe in Mary, the one where her parents want her to stay home from the census to protect her, the one where their neighbors shun them for what is perceived as their sinful ways. The story where Mary and Joseph admit their fears to each other but continue on their journey because they answered the call to do what was right.

They didn’t just peacefully travel to Bethlehem on a donkey, as we see in the story books. They struggled. They ran out of food. They nearly lost their footing crossing a river and Mary prayed aloud that God would help them find a way to get through their journey.

She didn’t ask for a chariot. She didn’t ask for their way to be made simple. She didn’t ask for God to reveal His plan to all so she wouldn’t have to suffer the humiliation. She didn’t ask for it to be easy. Mary simply asked for help and strength. And she was given both. Sometimes it seems natural for us to think that life is supposed to be easy. Or, if we’re on the right path, that it should be made smooth for us. But if we can learn anything from Mary and Joseph, it’s that we should forge ahead doing right for right’s sake. Whether the journey seems impossible, or it seems we deserve better … we need only remember that God’s own Son didn’t have an easy way into this life. Or out of it. But He was given the same help and strength that was given to His parents. The same help and strength that is offered to us every day if we choose to look, not beyond our circumstances, but in the midst of them.

Mary and Joseph didn’t wait until they were in a cozy home to be grateful that God had pulled them through. In the midst of the rough circumstances they found at the stable, they recognized the gift that had been entrusted to them. This Christmas, as we think about what didn’t go quite right or how we may have wanted things to be easier, stop and remember that just as Mary and Joseph found all those years ago, we too are always given blessings in the hay.

It’s so easy to get distracted by the difficulties instead of the joy, but today – and every day – should be about remembering why we are here. Who gave us life. The struggle He had to go through just to be born. The faithfulness of Mary and Joseph, not to be rescued and their burdens eased, but instead to fulfill what God asked of them.

We are here because He was born.

How blessed we are.

Ha! Ha! Ha! Merry Christmas

I tend to go toward the funny/sarcastic side with my Christmas greetings. Trust me, I don’t lose sight of the reason we celebrate, and I love all the heartfelt Christmas letters people send out. They are lovely and meaningful and I so appreciate the chance to catch up on people’s lives.

But I don’t have one of those lives you want to rehash in a Christmas letter. Illness and pain don’t exactly scream, “Joy to the World!” And since I don’t have cute kids to put on a photo card, I go with next best thing:

Riley, of course.

See? He’s always good for a chuckle. :)

I’ve seen this video floating around Facebook lately, and I thought it was brilliant as well. If you need a little stress reliever in the middle of all your holiday planning and hubbub…  watch these Silent Monks:

I’ll be back to wish you a Merry Christmas on Friday, but for now remember to take a breather in the midst of the chaos and enjoy your moments!

Brought to You by the Letter K

[I think this is my favorite crazy-letter picture yet…]

I love that a number of you chose the word kindred for your [K] topic, because it’s something I’ve been thinking about so much lately.

Kindred spirits.

And how easy it would have been to miss them.

I never cease to be amazed how, in every stage of my life, God has opened my heart to so many friendships. I love that I have friends who make me laugh until I cry. I love that some of my friends are so shy, until they get comfortable, and then they shock the life out of me with things they say or do. I love that some friends are intellectual and planners. I love that other friends go totally on emotion and spontaneity abounds. I have friends who are so much like me I think we may be the same person, and I have friends who are so opposite of me they keep me looking at life from different angles. I love that God knew I needed all of it and placed me right where I needed to be to find each and every one of them.

I just put up new Christmas photos on my “friend door” and smiled at the diversity. Friends from high school, friends from college, friends from church, friends from blogs and twitter. My Compassion friend, Tsegaye, from another world altogether. Some of those faces I talk to everyday, some I twitter with endlessly, some I haven’t seen or spoken to in way too long… but my heart smiles at the sight of them. I am alone 99% of the time, but I walk by those faces and am amazed by how many people I have with me in my life.

Sometimes I wonder how many I have missed. How many kindred spirits were put right in my path, but I walked by and didn’t pay attention. Because they were different than me. Because I was too busy to stop and pay attention. Because they were too loud or too quiet or too needy. Because I was too tired or too nervous or too insecure. Because they might not have fit into the life I was creating or because I was afraid I did fit into theirs.

I feel like this blog has given me a second chance at meeting kindred spirits I might not have otherwise. There are so many people I never would have been in touch with if it wasn’t for technology. Facebook has brought old friends back into my life I’m sure I wouldn't have spoken to again. Twitter has opened a door to friendships I never could have created in my imagination… people who keep me laughing, people whose stories make me cry, people who ask how I am if I’ve been quiet too long and people who feel like next door neighbors even though we’ll never meet.

And then there are all of you. Real friends. Real kindred spirits. You are all as diverse as the people in my world that came before you… funny, sarcastic, kind, searching, timid, loving, generous, hopeful, discouraged, compassionate. I want you to know that I treasure each and every aspect of each and every one of you. Christmas is as good a time as any to make sure you know you are valued and appreciated. And trust me, you are.

I’m getting quite excited, because a week from today… as long as the weather permits and they stay healthy… I’m going to get to hug a few kindred spirits in person. Jessica, Matthew and Elias have become like family to me, and even though we’ve never met in person, I feel like I’ve spent hours hanging out on their couch and experiencing life with them.

But now I’m going to get to do that for real! They are taking a detour on their way back to Nashville from Wisconsin to see me. Little ol’ me. And here’s the thing: even if the weather turns nasty or they all come down with colds or some other act of fate keeps them away next Monday [which would suck, just to clarify], I have had so much fun just feeling the anticipation of seeing them. Enjoying the thought of welcoming new friends into my home who feel like old friends I just haven’t seen in awhile. I’ve been overwhelmed that they are making such a huge effort and am giddy that I get to kiss Elias’ cheeks until he can’t take it anymore.

Mostly, I’m just very blessed. Blessed with old friends and new friends and friends yet to enter my life.

Kindred spirits. The beautiful gift that keeps on giving.

Ok, you all know what to do… leave me a comment with the [L] topic of your choice and we’ll see what it inspires for next week’s post. :)

Flashback Friday: Breath of Heaven

In an effort to get back into our Flashback Friday routine, I thought this post was a great one to revisit during the Christmas season. Hope it helps put you in the frame of mind for what Christmas is all about. This song does it for me every time.

Breath of Heaven
[originally posted 12.8.08]

Since my first day at college, I was involved at St. Stephen the Witness Catholic Student Center. I loved that place and the ever-evolving community. As a freshman I had upperclassmen who took me under their wing. I had friends my age who were going through the same ups and downs of college life. And as I made my way through the years, I eventually mentored others and took them under my wing. While the community changed, the environment didn't. It was a place of love and support and acceptance and learning.

All of those things are still in that building for me. I haven't been able to be there to celebrate Mass or join in activities for a long time, but I can close my eyes and see the details, smell the essence, hear the trickle of the baptismal font and feel the closeness of the air that hugs you into a sense of serenity. I loved worshipping there.

Mostly, I loved singing there.

I'm not the best singer in the world, but it is, hands down, the thing I loved to do the most. I don't read music so I would meet the pianist for our practice session carrying a mini-recorder to tape the songs. Then I would take it home and play it over and over to have the music ingrained in me until I could sing without thinking.

I would stand up to the microphone on Sunday morning and see a sea of faces who were there for something so much bigger than us. And I would do the same thing each time... silently pray the Memorare and ask for Mary to send one of the angels in the choir to sing for me that day. I would ask that whatever message was supposed to be given would be heard, and then I would concentrate on the words and the meaning and trust that the notes would come out right. Sometimes they did and sometimes they didn't, but regardless I always felt a connection with the community.

One year around Christmas time I had recorded a radio jingle for our local airport... it was the corniest jingle ever, but the studio I was at gave me a deal on some recording time. I had enough money from the jingle to be in the studio for one hour, and I recorded eight songs back-to-back. Each song had one take... no going back to fix it if I hit a wrong note or ran out of breath. I took the opportunity to record the songs I had done most often at St. Stephen's to share with the people it meant something to.

The song I still have people tell me they miss at this time of year was a song I would have sang today on the Feast of the Immaculate Conception... Breath of Heaven. So, for all of you from St. Stephen's that read the blog, and for all of you new friends of mine, I'm going to share my recording of it today. I know others have sang it better, but I hope you get as much out of hearing it as I got out of singing it for so many years. Just click the play button on the player below and wait a second for it to start. And remember I'm not a professional... just a person who loved the experience of sharing the moment.

Peace & Quiet

It is blissfully quiet in my house. Would you like to know why?

Because this:

and this:

and these:

and these:

have all finished doing their jobs. And, oh my soul, those little green fans were LOUD… and constant… for six full days. But my walls are dry, the ceilings are dry, the carpets are dry and have been re-stretched. The fans and dehumidifiers have been removed and the carpet has been cleaned.

Ahhhh…

Now I just have to wait for the carpet to dry from the cleaning, get my furniture off the styrofoam blocks, have Dawn come clean on Friday, wait for my lungs to start working again and then…

LIFE SHOULD BE BACK TO NORMAL!

Well, my version of normal, anyway. But it will be my bizarre and unpredictable normal in a completely normal home. :) Funny how having my condo back to it’s previous state can feel like a Christmas present in and of itself!

The next thing I have to do is start taking down my Christmas photo cards from last year:

Am I the only one who leaves them up year-round? I don’t even like removing last year’s until I have a good number to replace them with, because I hate to see my “friend door” look so incredibly bare. Maybe I’m losing it from being in isolation so long, but walking by all those smiling faces makes me feel like it hasn’t been so long since I’ve seen everyone. I’m a bit sentimental that way.

So, I’ll be saying goodbye to them:

and anxiously awaiting my [hopefully] overflowing mailbox. I’ll just let that be my open invitation for anyone to send me a photo card. You can be sure it will be appreciated all year long. :)

Brought to You by the Letter J

If I have learned one thing in this life, it is that God will not tie my shoes without me. - Doug Boyd

When you all suggested Joy for today’s [J] topic, this quote immediately came to mind. I know, there’s no mention of “joy” in it… but there is a message about how to go about achieving joy.

I’ve obviously written about joy before. I’ve defined it for myself and written at length about the fact that I consciously choose joy rather than waiting for it to find me. But just like joy has to be chosen, I also have to put some work into it before the choice is available. Hence, the quote. God gives us the tools, the opportunities, the situations… but it’s up to US to do something with what He provides. He’s willing to stoop over and guide our hands, but we have to be willing to put in the effort to tie our own shoes.

Sometimes we get lucky and joy just knocks us upside the head. We can call those moments “slipper joy” since we just slide right into them and there is no tying required. It’s cozy and comforting and we sometimes take for granted that it will always be available and waiting for us at the end of a hard day. But more often than not, joy is hidden in the cracks, in the unforeseen places God builds into our hardest times.

The example that comes to mind for me has everything to do with my physical situation this summer. When I had discovered earlier in the year that being homebound was going to be a permanent lifestyle for me, I had given away some things that I knew I wouldn’t ever use again… things like purses and coats and dresses. This summer, when I got so sick and started blowing up from the Cushing’s, I looked at my summer clothes and realized what a waste it was to have them sitting in my dresser. Clothes I knew I wouldn’t wear this summer for sure, simply because they wouldn’t fit me, but it also felt like a reminder of all the places I wore them, and all the places I would never go again.

Sure, I could have saved them to wear around my house, but that thought didn’t bring me joy. It’s like all my past fun times of going out with friends in those cute clothes suddenly got confined to my house with me. So I had Susie come over to go shopping.

I could have just given her boxes of clothes and been done with it, but I honestly want to squeeze joy out of every little moment I can. I miss shopping, helping other people pick out clothes, figuring out what outfits they could put together from their closets. So I made Susie try on every single piece of clothing and we talked about them just like it was a shopping trip. And I had fun. Giving brought me joy. Shopping in my own house for someone else brought me joy. Later, when Susie would tell me she wore something of mine out to dinner with friends, it brought me joy. It made me feel like a part of me was still there with her, still having fun, still participating.

That joy was sitting right there in my drawers. It could have brought me sadness and longing, but instead I chose joy. I put the work into something sad and made it happy. God gave me the material and then I tied my own shoes.

Speaking of shoes, I just did the same thing about a month ago when my mom and dad were here. We had Dad working on a few honey-dos around the condo [sorry Dad, no husband means you’re stuck with my honey-do list for life] while mom and I went shoe shopping in my closet. She had said they might stop at Von Maur on their way home and I realized I could save her a fortune! I started handing her shoes and she started putting them in bags… and that’s when I had to explain the rules. There was no taking unless she tried them on and showed them off for me.

I’m so demanding.

But, because I’m demanding, what started out seeming like another honey-do task of packing up shoes turned into an afternoon of shoe shopping, figuring out outfits, telling stories and having fun. We could have filled those two garbage bags full of shoes [yes, seriously, two garbage bags] and I would have been happy to have had the opportunity to give. But I don’t think that happiness would have turned into joy if we hadn’t put a little work into it. We made the effort to find the joy in the moment… we tied our own shoes.

It’s just something for you to think about as you go through your day today. Stop and take in your moments. Look at them from another angle. See where God may be bending down to assist you if you would just reach down and grab the laces.

Joy is sometimes in the most unlikely places. You just have to put in a little work before you can find it.

Alright, peeps… this only works if you participate. :) So leave me your [K] topic suggestions in the comment section and we’ll see what I can come up with for next Monday!