because each of our lives could be a podcast

My dad used to drive us to elementary school.  At the time he had a brown 1979 Impala that he had been given by my grandparents complete with cigarette burned front seats, a ceiling with fabric so droopy it could hit you in the head if you sat up too straight, and a push button radio that he only kept on NPR which never failed to tell us how many minutes it was until the hour as we were getting out in front of the school drop off line.

So, with that explanation, I guess you can say my hatred for talk radio began at a young age.  Apart from Click and Clack's comical Boston accented voices on Car Talk who will forever hold high rankings in my fondest childhood memories, I have always found talk radio to be false thoughts only spoken as ads, full of unnecessary sensationalized emotions and opinions that seem to do more for segregating people then bringing them together, or, well, boring.  I realize that is a strong statement.  Sorry that I have to stick by it pretty intensely.  Forgive me if you have different opinions!

It was because of this, and these preconceived opinions, that I have jumped, very late, onto the podcast bandwagon.  My inability to pay attention to them while also working on other things has kept my list down to just a handful of favorites that can be listened to when my mind does not need to be engaged elsewhere, most of which are just people I may or may not have ever heard of telling their life stories.

In conversation the other day I was sharing with a friend some wonderful insight I had gained through listening to a guest on The Pivot and how cool it was that this person who I will never meet dared to bare their soul and hard earned wisdom of life just so that I, Sarah in Oxford, Ga, could be spoken into.  There is such beauty in that, that sharing of life to benefit the life of another.  Conversation continued on about how many celebrities now have podcasts and how thousands and thousands will listen to them for no other reason than because they are well known.

This thought was pondered quite a bit and then I remembered a verse in John that portrayed another preconceived opinion that one of the disciples had before following along.  At the end of chapter 1 when Philip tells his friend that they have found the Messiah and are going to follow him.  His friend replies, "Can anything good come out of Nazareth?"

Why do we often assume good things only come from big important places or big important people?  When there are 7 billion people available, quite a few are going to be known, well known, famously or infamously so.  Most of us will not reach that level of recognizability by the masses, but we still each have a story to tell.  We each have the ability to impact another with what we have been through, what we have been brought through, and where we are going.

I'm not saying we should each start a podcast, but we should each tell our stories.  Talk about what has happened, what God has done through it.  When Jesus restored the literally out of his mind naked man in Luke 8 back to his senses he begged to go with them wherever they were going, but Jesus said no, instead, go home and tell what God has done for you.  Go to that little town you have been living outside of and say it to them.

We are not all meant to have the loudest voices, but we are all meant to speak.  

I'm not saying we should each start a podcast, but we each could, because anything Good can come out of anywhere if God is deeming it to be so.  You can be the stone that starts a giant ripple that brings others to Him.

Oh Nazareth, you precious little blip on the map.  Can good come from you?  Yes, and it was the ultimate Good.

I'll be praying that you not just know your perfectly purposely planned and executed story for His glory, but that you will tell it to others and let them see.  Pray for me.

because we can't hold on forever

I have never really liked my hands. My sister inherited the good hands. They're soft and smooth, long fingers with nails that grow past the point where the white actually shows and can be filed in a ladylike manner. I seem to have inherited the opposite. Even at a young age they seemed, to my eyes, like old lady hands. I got the large veins that show their blue through the skin on the back, short fingernails that break way too easily, and no amount of lotion will keep them soft and supple for long.

You would think that the four years of CrossFit they have endured would make me like them less, because now added in with what was previously mentioned are calluses and torn blisters and the scars that are still slightly visible from previous ones that have already healed.  But actually, that makes me like them a little more, because at least I can see with my eyes the work they have done.  If I can't have pretty, at least I have productive.

But there's one part, one aspect, those two extremities at the end of my arms have that I just can't seem to improve on my opinion of, how well they can hold on.

It never fails, or I guess I should say they always fail.  Sooner or later, usually sooner rather than later, they give out and let go.  All my willpower in the world cannot make them hold a bar for longer than they are able.  I have to stop and rest them, shake them out, and will them to try again.  Recently, after having a seemingly normal conversation--well a normal conversation for some of us--about grip strength and bar cycling with one of our coaches, I sat in the car staring at my battle wounds and gained a sense of understanding.  Yes, I can improve their strength, our bodies were created in an amazing way that makes grown and improvement a possibility, but I will never be able to hold on to anything forever.  I wasn't built to hold on,  I was built to be held on to.

A story I was told years ago has always stayed with me.  In the story this man's friend was on a tubing trip with his family.  As they floated contentedly down the river, his young daughter in his lap, the water's current started to quicken and before them they saw that the rapids that were usually quiet had grown fierce and wild with the recent rain.  He braced himself for the blows to come and with all his might held tightly to his daughter as they were thrown from the tube and sent into the waters.  Tumbling and turning he kept holding on until they finally reached calm waters again.  With tears streaming down her face she grinned proudly at her daddy and said I holded on, I holded on the whole time!  But he knew the truth, she wasn't safe because of her strength to hold on, she was safe because someone stronger was holding on to her, and he never let go.

It's a lesson I have learned a thousand times for sure with thousands left to go, I can't control the outcomes I can only fulfill my part.  I can't force things to happen that are not meant to be, just like I can't stop what's meant to be from happening.  I can cling and stretch and learn and grow, all good things to be sure, but eventually I'll have to let go, and when I do I can clearly see the One who is always holding on to me.  In my weakness I see His strength, in my weakness He in my makes me strong.

As I continue and practice, strength will grow in my body, but as for my Spirit, instead of learning to hold on longer, maybe the lesson should be to let go a little sooner so that I may rest in My Father who will never let go.  I'll be praying that for you, pray for me.

For do not fear for I am with you, do not be dismayed for I am your God.  I will strengthen you and help you, I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.  Isaiah 41:10

because we need to live out our unique passion

You know you've hit it the minute it happens.  In the middle of conversation you ask the right question or mention the right topic and suddenly the face in front of you lights up in a new way.  Eyes open wide, smile even wider, their countenance changes as they become almost giddy and All In to the conversation.  Child or adult, introvert or extrovert, the scenario doesn't change, because when you find the right thing we all become giddy, over spilling with words that cannot be hemmed in because now we are talking about our passion.

A passion is more than a hobby, it's more than a delightful pastime, a passion makes people come alive.  It taps into the deepest essence of who God created them to be and what he created them to do.  "What does it mean to be an ambassador of the King?" Paul David Tripp asks.  "It means reflecting his message, his methods, and his character wherever he has placed you."  Wherever in whatever.

As easy as you would think it would be to know your passion, to know what you were wired to do, it is not.  It takes thought, concentration, and noticing.  Sometimes it is almost impossible to do on your own.  In an interview on Andrew Osenga's podcast The Pivot, Bebo Norman mentions how integral our community is in regards to seeing ourselves in a true light.  Our community, the people we have built our lives with and around, see us in ways we can never see ourselves.  They see us without preconceptions and veiled covered eyes.  They are the ones looking and they are the ones who can see when we light up.

But even when a passion is pinpointed, it is even harder sometimes to allow your self to succumb to it.  As odd as that sounds, it is so very true.  We, in our human desire to please and succeed, stuff passions placed within us and though you may be able to justify the why with a million different reasons, I feel as if they all boil down to two root things, expections and fear.

--though they are just another way of saying the two roots of all sin, pride and unbelief.  Thanks to my PCA loving in-lawed family for teaching me that little tidbit within a week of knowing you--

1.  Expectations- Shakespeare said that "Expectation is the root of all heartache." and I can name quite a few of his works where the reality of this was played out.  We find that thing that makes us tick, that makes us feel alive, but then we look at it from another angle and then another and doubt seeps in.  It doesn't "look" as impressive as I thought.  It doesn't look as productive as this other thing may be.  If I sit around the tables at my high school or college reunion or family gathering and chat about it, how will it sound?  Will people understand or will they laugh it off.  Oh comparison, how you wheedle your way into every scenario and thieve all the joy.


2.  Fear-  We can be scared of the oddest of things, here's a quick list I came up with a few years ago with minimal effort, but a significant one on our lists is fear of the unknown.  When finding your passion, and especially if that passion will require a change of occupation, living, etc. fear of not knowing the end result frequently outweighs the joy that could come from living your passion out.  The unpleasant known is much more comforting than the potentially pleasant unknown.  How confusing our human minds can be.  The passion we want, but the leap to it we can almost not bear.

Corrie Ten Boom speaks directly to this when she challenges us to "never be afraid to trust an unknown future to a known God."

When reading in Jeremiah there is a story where the people of Judah keep trying to escape their land because they are afraid of the new enemy king that has taken it over.  After trying many solutions--running away--on their own with only terrible things happening they come to Jeremiah and say tell us what the Lord wants us to do and where he wants us to.  Whatever it is, we will do it.  After ten days Jeremiah comes back and says stay in the land God has given you and the king will keep you safe, but if you flee to Egypt he will come after you and kill you.  Any guesses where these fools go?  Fear kept them from listening.  The fear that came with trusting a future they did not know overpowered the trust that God always knows.

for more thoughts on fear and tackling it read this

Maya Angelou has a beautiful quote that reads "there is no greater agony then bearing an untold story inside of you."  This meaning does not just pertain to writers, it pertains to us all.  Within each of us is placed a story, whether in the form of words, talent, or gifts.  These passions  demand to be let loose.  Your story is there to be used.  Blocking it out will not cause the flame to be extinguished, it sends that flame deep down into your soul where it will slowly burn until it can no longer be ignored and you have to bring it to light, give it the oxygen needed to grow.  To leave it stuffed, burning in the darkness, is agony.

One of my favorite things is when great wisdom and truth comes out of nowhere from unexpected places.  A always remembered moment will be sitting around my in-laws dining table listening to my husband's grandmother and her friend talk.  I had never met this friend before and had never heard of her before but the story her life contained was one of inspiration and amazement and the best part was how casually she shared it.  The humility that came through from her normal tone and laughter made it all the better to listen to.  Somewhere in the middle of a story she flippantly said, "there is just no better place to be than in the middle of God's will."

It took quite some time to sort through that comment.  But how do I know if it's God's will? was asked over and over.  I have been told before that it is ill-advised to dwell too much on that topic.  Instead just assume that whatever I am doing is God's will because if I wasn't supposed to be doing it I wouldn't be.  It's easy to argue many sides of that.  What it came down to was the feeling of agony and why is it there.  Is there something missing, something that could feel more "right", something else that should be in my life to make this unsettled feeling feel settled.

We all do not have the luxury of having our greatest passions be the way we make our living, but we do all have the ability to make our passions an integral part of our life.  When you succumb to it, when you look and see the gifts you've been given and the passions that have been placed in your heart and work towards integrating them into your time, your actions, your life, all of a sudden that turmoil inside settles.  It doesn't meant a dream life starts, or problems dissipate, or you get to quite your job, though sometimes it can.  Instead you just feel at once that yes, this is what I was created to love, where I was created to show love, and you begin to understand that yes there might just not be a better place than in the middle of His will. 

I don't know your passion, and you might not know it yet either, but I urge you to pray that it will be found, pray to see how you were uniquely created to work and show off His glory in the middle of our world.  I'll be praying for you, pray for me.

Now...

Go and be as the butterfly.  Go unfettered by cares, by the Infernal bondage of the Mortal.  Go with a light heart, trusting God and giving thanks.  Go and gather unto yourselves so you can pour out to others. ~Jan Karon, through Father Tim

for when you dust off your post-summer self

There is a feeling of guilt welling up in me.  It's not a new feeling for any mama or woman in general.  We are experts at this emotion, both feeling it and placing it upon another, but this isn't, for once, a debilitating guilt.  Though it's not the righteous kind, which is the only form that I have been reminded on more than one occasion that is not in fact sinful.  However, it is at least a friendlier sort.  The current guilt comes from leaving you, my friends, in a lurch for the last few months.

As we explored the feelings that come when you are left thinking about a season where life did not quite work out like you expected  and prayed for eyes to see beyond what we on our own are able, next, instead of a charging ahead, came silence.  Well that's not entirely true, because I can assure you the last two and a half months have been anything but silent.

Summer came and with the freedom from stringent schedules, normal alarms, early bedtimes, and regular baths--because swimming definitely counts in the summertime--also comes a lax in regular cleaning chores, nonexistent disciplined days, and very few moments of quiet.  I know you feel me.  It's not often that I pinpoint a certain select group of people that I'm talking to, but mamas, today, it's you.

Something happens to us in the summer, whether we work outside the home full-time, half-time, or are at home always.  Whether we have toddlers, school-aged children, or are welcoming home those from college who will always be our babies.  There is a large chunk of us that we voluntarily set aside and place on the shelf for the summer.

We are skilled in the act of sacrifice, relinquishing much of our own life, for the lives of our children.  Hear me when I say this is not in a sense of martyrdom, but in a sense of loving duty.  We know, all to well, how quickly time slips away, how few summers we will have to guide lives and build memories before they are all but a glimpse in the past.

From the moment we begin showing in our first pregnancies to well past the time they are grown, we are told by strangers, discuss as friends, and notice on our own as we sit staring at the faces of the ones we carried, that time flies much quicker than expected and we desire with all of our hearts to hold on to most moments as long as possible.  Even the hardest moments of the past can bring a heartfelt tear to the eye at times when we gaze upon the growing mature one that we see in front of us now.

Today I say to you all well done, good show, way to go, cheers, you killed it, whether you feel it or not.  We did it, we survived another summer--well us southerners did it, you in most of the country might have a couple weeks to go.

So here's to us, to the moment we notice there is a lack of noise and we begin again to be able to form complete thoughts, to the moment we stand on our tippy toes to reach up and grab that us that we voluntarily set aside for a bit to live and thrive through another of the 18 summers we are given.

For you homeschooling mamas, you are taking your teaching self down off the shelf, polishing her up, and are again taking on many roles past motherhood in the lives of your children.  It's not an easy job to do.

For you working mamas, you are able to fully bring back your professional self off the shelf and are able to engage more into your career with a little heartfelt ease and less distraction knowing that your children have been firmly left in the capable hands you know and trust to come alongside you on the parenting journey.  It's not an easy job to do.

For you stay at home mamas with babies still surrounding you at all times, you can bring down the new you, the one with another year of experience at training them up and figuring out the new personalities and idiosynchrosies that come with a child who also has one more year of life under their belt.  It's not an easy job to do.

For you in the middle mamas, for you transitioners, for the ones I relate to the most, you are in a crossroads of life that will most definitely not play out as you expected no matter what.  You may be starting back to work again after years at home, you may be starting a new job or career, or you may still be sitting and frantically or not so frantically searching, realizing, those next steps.  You are my people, and I know with all my heart, it's not an easy job to do.

For all of us, the self you are taking off the shelf is one of certain mystery, though she still looks the same on the outside from when you placed her up there, you know inside she is not.  She is full anticipation, expectations, a little bit of fear, and a deep-seeded desire of hope that when dusted off and put back fully into the real world of post-summer life you will like the person she becomes and enjoy the walk ahead.

Though fear and doubt seem to follow me around like old friends, I am looking forward to another year with you all. As we see what the future holds I am praying for you ladies, praying for the confidence to tackle the opportunities that await, praying for the newness to slowly change into experience, praying for clear visions and desires to pursue, and most of all praying that your hopes are grounded in Christ as He is the only one who can fulfill and will fulfill through each and every endeavor.  Pray for me.