I’ve Moved! Come Follow Me on My New Site!

This will be my last post on this site.

Writing here has given me a chance to practice honing in on my voice which is still a work in progress. I thank you for joining me on my journey so far!

Don’t worry! I’m still writing–and a lot more regularly–at my new self-hosted site.

Laughing As I Go

Go check it out! I believe it better captures my heart for wanting to encourage people and make them laugh a little with my writing.

I hope you can join me as I continue to figure out how to chase God and dreams and laughter along the way.

As always, thanks for reading!

Sarah

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Chasing Beauty

At some point during high school, I claimed Beauty and the Beast as my favorite Disney animated film. I guess my teenage heart identified with the girl who was odd and didn’t quite fit into society’s norm.

But at the same time, I never claimed to be like Belle because she was beautiful, and I never felt beautiful. If she couldn’t fit in, there was no hope for me–at least not that I found in a fairytale.

My life could never be a Disney fairytale anyways. My tragic backstory is hardly tragic comparatively speaking–save one small character flaw–my eyes.

I didn’t realize I needed to be self conscious about my eyes until about third grade when a boy asked me if I was looking at him when in my mind, I clearly was. Kids have a way of being bluntly honest, and growing up with crossed eyes gave me thick skin pretty quickly.

By sixth grade, the innocent “Are you looking at me?” or “Why are you looking over there?” questions turned into actual laughter at my expense.

Patrick Chin made sixth grade particularly miserable for me. Day after day, he taunted me with “I’m over here, Sarah!” or “Why are you looking at the clock? I’m right here!”

He’d point and laugh and get others to join in, “Look at Sarah. Her eyes are crossed! Why are your eyes crossed?”

My little 11-year-old self tried to explain to him one day the medical reason for why my eyes crossed hoping that if he understood the problem then he would also understand that I couldn’t control it and maybe he would relent.

You know when you watch a movie and the character does something she thinks will help the situation, but it only makes it worse. You feel the sting of embarrassment for her and want to hide your face in your hands—thats how I feel looking back on that moment in my life.

The world told me I was unwanted, and I believed it. I stopped talking to people, and when I did interact with people, I stared at the ground and avoided eye contact because I was afraid that if they found out my secret, they wouldn’t want to be my friend.

Eventually I just started automatically assuming no one would ever like me because I had nothing to offer a friendship that was beautiful or worthwhile.

I felt like an outcast.

My parents saw a change in me that year. My mom told me to punch Patrick in the face while my dad told me to ignore him. I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to punch him hard enough, and he would start laughing at me for punching like a wimp.

My mom is a fixer, so she found a doctor at Johns Hopkins in Baltimore who specialized in my particular eye problem.

I took my first trip on an airplane and had surgery to fix my eyes which I hoped would also secure the acceptance I desperately craved.

But the surgery was a bandaid temporarily treating the symptoms to my real problem–searching for my worth and value and identity in the world’s ever-changing ideal of beauty.

I have never worried about not having enough food or a roof over my head, so I’m well aware this is entirely a first-world problem.

I’m white, middle class, and heterosexual, so I realize I have not dealt with the level of ostracization many feel in our American first-world society.

But this is the life God gave me, and it is the only place from which I can speak.

In a small way, Patrick bullying me felt a lot like Gaston convincing a whole town to become a mob with pitchforks and attack a creature before they learned the full truth. My eleven-year-old heart felt like the Beast with no hope of love and whom the whole of my little world was against–until God stepped in.

Sarah, I’m over here. Are you looking at Me?

When Love calls your name, you listen and you’re transformed.

I don’t follow Jesus because growing up I always heard I’d go to hell if I didn’t.

I follow Jesus because my days without Him are lifeless, dark, and a lot like hell. But in His kindness, He called my name. I know I’m loved, and not by something as fickle as the world, but loved by the source of all beauty.

I don’t follow Jesus because He promised me an easy life.

I follow Jesus because His love gives my life beauty and purpose when the days seem mundane but also comfort and peace when the nights seem too dark.

I don’t follow Jesus because His commands looked like a super fun way to live–without His love motivating my heart and His strength empowering my actions, guilt and fear would rule my efforts at Biblical morality.

I follow Jesus because in the community of believers He’s given me, I find belonging. I am wanted and needed for my unique talents and gifts. We’re not perfect, but we’re able to work out together how to love God more by actively loving and serving the world He came to save.

Do you remember what your life was like before Love called your name?

Do you remember what it was like to be the Beast–well no, here’s where the metaphor falls flat because we all know Gaston is the real beast.

We’re Gaston–incapable of loving anything outside of ourselves. But God loves us first, so we can see what real beauty looks like, and in turn learn to love Him and others.

And you were dead in the trespasses and sins in which you once walked, following the course of this world, following the prince of the power of the air, the spirit that is now at work in the sons of disobedience–among whom we all once lived in the passions of our flesh, carrying out the desires of the body and the mind, and were by nature children of wrath, like the rest of mankind.

But God, being rich in mercy, because of the great love with which he loved us, even when we were dead in our trespasses, made us alive together with Christ–by grace you have been saved–and raised us up with him and seated us with him in the heavenly places in Christ Jesus, so that in the coming ages he might show the immeasurable riches of his grace in kindness toward us in Christ Jesus. (Ephesians 2:1-7, ESV, emphasis mine)

One of the details of the new Beauty and the Beast film I appreciated was that the last petal did fall and there was complete defeat before love stepped in to change everything–beautifully illustrating God transforming our dead hearts and making us alive together with Christ.

But when we forget the depth of God’s kindness towards us, we tend to look more like Gaston to a world desperately needing to see Jesus.

I’m not sure Jesus calls us to pick up our pitchforks and attack a secular company for making films that don’t line up exactly to our Biblical view of morality.

Jesus does call us to wage war against the sin in our own hearts that keeps us from loving Him and others completely. He even promises to give us strength to fight those battles, so maybe your entertainment choices are more a matter of your personal pursuit of holiness.

Boycotts look at lot more like an angry mob of small-minded townspeople than love. The townspeople never took the time to get to know the Beast’s story maybe because it seemed too different from their own. Instead, they immediately accused him of being a threat to their ideal version of society.

But Jesus stands between the accuser and the condemned. When Pharisees brought the woman caught in adultery before Jesus, he sent the accusers away with His words, not the woman, “Let him who is without sin among you be the first to throw a stone at her.”

His kindness and mercy led her to repentance.

Jesus stood up and said to her, “Woman, where are they? Has no one condemned you?” She said, No one, Lord.” And Jesus said, “Neither do I condemn you; go and from no on sin no more.” (John 8:10-11, ESV)

Even though Love has changed our hearts, we still struggle with the beast of sin inside us. Judgement and condemnation are easy because they make us feel better about our own shortcomings.

Loving people who are different than us by stepping into their brokenness in the same way God stepped into ours is difficult.

It’s God’s kindness that leads people to repentance, but how can they see His kindness if they’re being distracted by Christians yelling at the world for acting just like the world is supposed to act apart from God.

Patrick Chin made my sixth grade life hell. His accusations, though true, did not make me want to be his friend or know his story–they made me want to run as far away from him as possible and find people who would be kinder and accept me.

I found that in God first and then the church–but finding acceptance in the church was probably a lot easier for me because my life and struggles looked very similar to all the others in my church.

I love Jesus. I wish I had words to express how grateful I am for His love.

I’m not ashamed of Jesus or embarrassed to share why He means so much to me.

Remember we talked about that sting of embarrassment you get when you watch a movie and the character does something they think will make a situation better and ends up making it worse? That’s how I feel when I see the church judge the world when God has called us to love our neighbor as ourself. But I can’t look away this time.

I’m not writing from a place of having figured out how to make everyone feel loved and accepted all the time. I have so much to learn–and unfortunately, I usually learn more from my mistakes than my successes.

I’m writing from a place of brokenness. I never want anyone feel the way Patrick made me feel–worthless and unwanted. But I know many individuals and groups of people have felt marginalized by the church in ways that make my experience in sixth grade look like a walk in the park. My heart breaks because the church seems to judge without question and love with an agenda.

But if we remember the depths from which God saved us, our hearts and arms should be open wide to a world desperately searching for belonging and meaning and peace and love–all the things Christ offers anyone who believes.

Remember that you were at one time separated from Christ, alienated from the commonwealth of Israel and strangers to the covenants of promise, having no hope and without God in the world. (Ephesians 2:12, ESV)

We’re not going to change the world by yelling or boycotting.

We’re not going to change the world by claiming the moral high ground.

We must fight sin though–but let’s start with the sin in our own lives that keeps God from having our undivided hearts. He wants our hearts so He can continually transform our lives to reflect His beauty to the world. What a wonderful privilege!

We forfeit that privilege when we let sin entice our hearts. We get distracted from the battle with our own sin when we’re worried about the sin in others who don’t even claim to know God–you know, the ones for whom God wants us to be a reflection of His love and kindness.

But we might change the world by doing what Jesus did to change our worlds–becoming a servant. Humbling himself by chasing beauty through sacrifice. Loving those the religious leaders called outcasts and sinners.

We might change the world if we fix our eyes on the cross reminding us of both the depth of our depravity and the greatness of our Savior. You straight-eyed people don’t have the need to be constantly wondering where the gaze of your eyes has drifted like I sometimes do, but we must train ourselves to be always aware of where the gaze of our hearts has drifted.

When our hearts are focused on chasing the beauty found in Jesus, we’re humbled and freed to be servants showing our neighbors God’s kindness and trusting God to handle how the world responds to His beauty.

He has told you, O man, what is good; and what does the Lord require of you but to do justice, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God. (Micah 6:8)

Tattoos are Permanent 

My little sister got tattoos before me, so I knew when I walked into that tattoo parlor, I wouldn’t be completely disowned by my family after I paid a complete stranger to permanently alter my body.

When the damage was done, I texted my mom who told my dad. Obviously, my parents still love me, but I could feel my dad’s disappointment in his response–“Interesting. I hope you like it.”

At that point, I wasn’t actually sure if I liked it or not. I envisioned it smaller, but shrinking it, skewed the font I loved. And frankly, it didn’t matter if I liked it or not because tattoos are permanent–and I needed some permanent in my life.

I used to tell people I don’t have tattoos because I’m afraid of needles and commitment.

My fear of needles is just me being dramatic.

My fear of commitment had become a paralyzing problem. I was tired of not finishing things, tired of changing my mind, tired of quitting because I was afraid of failing or making the wrong choice.

Maybe my tattoo was a wrong choice, but I did not enter my choice lightly. I spent over a year searching Pinterest for tattoo ideas looking for something I wanted forever on my body.

Do I want a quote? A picture? When I finally found a quote I loved, then I had to decide on a font and placement.

Once I was 75% confident on all those decisions, I waited 3 more months before I went to the tattoo parlor. Then standing in front of the guy with tattoos all the way up his neck, I knew it was now or never.

Hey, I just met you and this is crazy, but here’s my money, tattoo me, maybe.

I signed on the dotted line and committed to my decision.

My fear of needles made me blow out of proportion how much I thought it would hurt, so the mild discomfort I felt was a pleasant surprise.

But even now, I’m having trouble committing to the next sentence I should write, and I can easily change that if I so choose. I’m stuck forever with the three words I decided to tattoo on my forearm.

Courage, dear heart.

A quote from one of my favorite authors that captures the heart of one of my favorite scriptures.

I always need a reminder to choose courage over fear.

Admiring my tattoo one day while simultaneously wondering if I had made a horrible mistake, God asked my heart a simple question.

Sarah, you spent so long weighing your decision to tattoo those words on your arm. You chose them because they inspired you and reminded you of my command to be strong and courageous. But how often do you frivolously throw your words at others? You’re not careful with them because you don’t see their permanent imprint.

Well, crap. Why did we have to go there, God?

God created the universe with His words–God said, “Let there be light, and there was light.”

Jesus was described as the Word made flesh–the living embodiment of the Word of God.

Albus Dumbledore, arguably one of the greatest wizards ever, said, “Words are, in my not so humble opinion, our most inexhaustible source of magic…capable of both inflicting injury and remedying it.”

I mean God kinda said it first, “Death and life are in the power of the tongue…there is one whose rash words are like sword thrusts, but the tongue of the wise brings healing.” (Proverbs 18:21a, 12:18)

Rarely do I ever treat the decision about the words I speak with such care as the decision I made to get a tattoo.

But words have power. They stick. I can build others up and give life with my words or I can tear them down and bring death.

And in my experience, the words that hurt the most tend to last the longest.

In sixth grade, Patrick Chin relentlessly used his words to mock my appearance, and those taunts made a deep impression on my eleven-year-old heart. Almost 20 years later, his words still huant me.

Words are permanent.

How many times have my careless or carefully chosen words tattooed pain onto someone’s heart?

My tattoo forever alters my arm with the words I chose to encourage my heart. Sure, I may regret that decision 15 years from now, but it’s only physical.

And yet because I can see the tattoo, it somehow feels like a weightier decision than power I wield with the words I speak.

The greatest power words possess lies in their ability to heal, to encourage, to give life.

Words are permanent–may we use that to our advantage and tattoo hope, peace, and joy on the hearts of those around us.

The Single Christian Girl and The Celebrity Crush

My first celebrity crush was Jonathan Taylor Thomas.

Randy, the middle child from Home Improvement, held my heart, and his face decorated my bedroom walls. The death of Mufasa in The Lion King hit me especially hard because JTT captured the depth of Simba’s despair beautifully.  I owned all of his other movies on VHS.

I wrote Jonathan (we were on a first name basis in my imagination) a letter telling him of my love for him and my admiration for his great talent as an actor. I even sprayed it with perfume before I learned from Elle Woods that was the cool thing to do. I can only assume the letter got lost in the mail because I never received a response.

I wish I could say that JTT was my last celebrity crush and that I quickly grew out of occupying my thoughts with such fairy tales. But Cinderella ruined me, and since the princes of the world seem to be mostly taken, dreaming about a hot celebrity rescuing me from obscurity seems to be the next best thing.

In my vast experience, I’ve learned that you can separate the celebrity crushes of single Christian ladies into 3 major categories.

Celebrities (duh)

These are your run of the mill celebrities. My 29-year-old-grown-up-girl crush is Theo James. Google him if you aren’t already picturing his perfectly chiseled jaw and brown eyes that peer directly into your soul.

This fantasy always has to be coupled with the flirt to convert tactic. We know we’re not supposed to marry non-believers, so Jesus needs to win his heart before you do. In my mind, it works out beautifully.

“No, Theo. It would never work. I never intended for you to fall in love with my free spirit and hilarious personally that I hide from the rest of the world (cuz let’s be honest–I didn’t win you with my looks), but Jesus is the most important person in my life. I could never be with someone who doesn’t feel the same way.”

Theo walks away crushed. He finds me six months later and declares he found Jesus through the pain of my rejection. I get a hot husband. Theo gets eternal life. Jesus gets a celebrity on His team. It’s a win for everyone involved.

Christian Celebrities

When I went to my first Passion Conference in 2006, I walked away dreaming about 2 things–speaking on that stage one day and marrying Chris Tomlin.

Neither happened. Chris Tomlin has been happily married for awhile now, and I still live in (mostly) happy obscurity.

As a general rule, the Christian celebrity usually falls into the category of worship leader or member of a Contemporary Christian Music band. There are the Christian athletes too, but my current Christian celebrity crush is comedian John Crist.

I know nothing about him except that he makes me laugh. At this point, the only things I haven’t crossed off the list of characteristics I’d want in my future husband (that I made in 7th grade) are believer and funny.

I mean all I want is a man who loves Jesus and has a great sense of humor, but it’s actually kinda hard to find a single Christian guy who doesn’t take things a little too seriously and won’t find it offensive when I send him a video depicting Hitler getting angry learning about the FastPass Plus situation at Walt Disney World which I still happen to find hilarious. I digress…

I imagine Sarah and John’s love story goes something like this–I go to one of John’s shows, we meet almost accidentally, everything that comes out of my mouth is hilarious and natural, he falls instantly for my charming wit and because of this unexplainable glow that comes from me.

It’s not the glow that indicates I need to powder my nose. It’s a glow that says, “This girl has a journaling Bible where she draws beautiful artwork while communing with God over coffee every morning before she goes to work at a non-profit helping to feed orphans.” This is the glow I imagine is needed to win over a Christian celebrity.

That’s how it plays out in my head, but I don’t have that glow. I laugh when people add funny subtitles to a clip from a movie about WWII.

While the Christian Celebrity Crush fantasy might seem more likely to come true because flirting to convert is not a factor, they still don’t know you exist making flirting a challenge period. So there’s still that hurdle.

Tim Tebow

The rules for the Christian celebrity apply here, but this blue-eyed-Jesus-loving-gift-from-God deserves his own category. Every single Christian girl has dreamed about saving this man from his singleness. If you haven’t, you’re lying.

The Juggling Act

I can barely juggle one ball, but I’m an expert at juggling my crushes. At any one point I can be daydreaming about Theo and then jump to John because Theo would never work out because he’s not a Christian.

But I’ll never meet John, so let’s dream about this guy who actually knows I exist (well kinda, but we’ve at least been in the same room before). Oh wait–daydreaming about someone I could talk to in real life has the dangerous possibility of real rejection. Oh hey there, Theo, you’re looking lovely today and safe.

Yeah I went there.

The truth is I’m afraid. As a 29-year-old who has never had any man show real interest in her, I’m afraid that there’s something wrong with me. I am afraid that the only way I’ll know what it’s like to have a man choose me is if I imagine it in my head.

So I hold on to these silly daydreams because it’s easier than trusting God with a real dream that means so much to me.

God’s patience astounds me because He knows that I am loved and chosen and wanted. He knows I know these things too, but sometimes they don’t feel true. Maybe because I daydream about guys I’ll never meet instead of reminding myself of the truth.

But God reminds me. In the midst of my sad juggling act, He gently whispers, “My love is the only thing you need to hold onto. Even when you drop it, I’ll never let go of you. You’re mine because I chose you at your worst and gave up everything to love you. I also know you better than you know yourself, but even you know that if you actually met any of those guys, you wouldn’t be able to form 2 coherent sentences.”

Dreaming with a Broken Heart

You remember that sentimental Footprints poem that is mass-produced on bookmarks sold at the register at Christian Bookstores and also found cross-stitched and hanging in the homes of those sweet old ladies who make the best casseroles at the church fellowship?

You know the one. Oh look, I’m walking with God because you can see the 2 sets of footprints in the sand. Oh no, there’s only one set of footprints now. Where did God go? And God’s like, “I didn’t go anywhere. I was carrying you through those hard times.”

That’s cute, and I know the sentiment has encouraged many people. But I’ve been walking with God for over 15 years now, and that poem does not describe my experience.

I’m not saying that God has ever left me. He hasn’t. I am saying that I’m an ornery and stubborn little thing.

Unfortunately, I haven’t been just casually strolling down the beach hand-in-hand with my Father when life has been good and easy. Oh wait, life’s hard now, time for a piggy-back ride. My Footprints vision would look much different.

You’d see my footprints jet off of the path to chase something shiny. You’d see God’s footprints chase after me again and again. You’d see butt-prints where I just sit in the sand because I don’t want to walk anymore.

“God what’s that mess over there? If I cock my head to the side slightly and squint my eyes, it kinda looks like I was making a sand angel.”

“No. That, my sweet, little, stubborn child, is where you pitched a fit because I asked you to surrender something that you loved dearly, but would ultimately not be the best for you.”

“Oh yeah. You were right about that one.”

“I know.”

“I must be the slowest learner. It looks like I just walked a few feet and collapsed and then a few more feet and collapsed again. How many times did you have to deal with me and my silly tantrums?”

“You surrendered that dream like I asked, and it broke your heart like we both knew it would. My heart broke too. You were overwhelmed with grief, and somedays your sadness was all you could give me. Those weren’t tantrums. Those were the times you couldn’t walk any further. Those were the times we stopped, and I just held you.”

“Why didn’t you just carry me through those times? Why didn’t you just take the sadness away?”

“If I simply carried you or took away the sadness immediately, you would not know how to stand firm on my promises. You dream of scaling mountains, but you’ll never be strong enough. If I carried you through the valleys, you would not learn how to lean on me for each step and never know how to depend on my strength instead of your own.”

“Sometimes I wish you had given me smaller dreams. Maybe then my heart wouldn’t have to hurt this much.”

“Smaller dreams? Your dreams are already far too small.”

“Ok, God. They seem too big to me, but if we’re going to dive into that discussion, can we at least take this vision somewhere else? You know how much I dislike the beach because of the lack of shade and all the sand.”

My walk with God has been hard and messy, but beautiful in its own way.

This past year has felt like my heart was laid bare on the sand and wave after wave kept pounding against it relentlessly. The waves are still pounding, but that brokenness has spurred me on to dream bigger than I ever dared to dream before. That pain has sent me running to the arms of my Father and depending on Him for strength and comfort.

Maybe the best dreams come from the broken hearts held together only by God’s love because those hearts know the reality of loneliness and suffering but still dare to hope that God can turn brokenness into something beautiful.

 

 

Marriage is Not My Dream Anymore: An Open Letter to My Future Husband

Hi.

This is not actually the first time I’ve written to you. I started a journal of letters for you when I was in Junior High because at a True Love Waits weekend or something, a well meaning worker in my youth group said it would be a good idea. I wrote in it periodically through High School too. I found it a few years ago, laughed a lot, and promptly threw it away. You’re welcome.

But I’ll be 29 in less than a month, and this past year has been one of the hardest in my life. I’ve imagined that it would have been easier with you. More nights than I care to admit, I’ve sat alone in my room with tears streaming down my face longing for someone to hold me. And I’m not a crier or a hugger.

I say I’m not a crier, but truthfully, my superpower is just making my tears invisible. I can’t count all the times I’ve been out with a group of people wishing that someone would look past the facade I’m hiding behind and actually see me. Then in a classic rom-com way, that someone would pull me in tight and give me a safe place to make my tears visible.

But God being rich in mercy and grace has walked me through this season without your arms to hold me. I’m not even sure if your arms or the rest of you exist. But I know God exists, and He has provided comfort over the past year through His Word and friends and my roommate’s French Bulldog who is my writing and snuggle buddy. (If you are real and want to surprise me one day with my own French Bulldog, I wouldn’t hate it.)

God’s timing usually only seems perfect looking back, so when we’re still looking forward and waiting, we have to trust. He hasn’t given me you yet, but He’s given me more of Himself.

And without you by my side, He’s taught me a great deal about love and marriage–mainly because He’s graciously shown me how selfish I am.

I’ve dreamed about you almost my whole life, but my dreams for marriage have been just that–my dreams.

I didn’t think I was still silly enough to believe that marriage will make me happy, but over the past year, God cut to the core of my desire for marriage. He’s shown me I’m still seeking my own happiness in my dream to be married–I’ve just tried to dress it up a bit.

I want to travel the world with someone.

I don’t want to keep chasing my dreams alone. I need someone to encourage me.

Finances overwhelm me. I want someone who can handle all that boring stuff.

I just want to have fun with my best friend forever.

I want to have a man who will be my spiritual leader and partner as we stand up against the forces of evil in this world. (Sometimes I try to be super spiritual to trick God into giving me what I want. Hasn’t worked yet.)

I don’t want to be alone.

And by “dress it up a bit”, I mean my desires are basically a three-year-old who decides she wants to dress herself for the first time and ends up looking ridiculous, and God just smiles and says, “That’s cute, Sarah.”

Then He walked me through some painful places and showed me what real love looks and feels like. And sometimes real love–the kind that lasts and changes people–doesn’t feel that good. Love is a choice and usually not the easy one because it’s always the unselfish one.

The Cross is the classic Christian go-to to demonstrate such sacrificial love–and I’m not disagreeing. The Cross always needs to be made bigger in our minds, but lately I’ve been thinking about the relationship between Jesus and Judas. Jesus loved that man for 3 years knowing full well betrayal and deceit dwelled in Judas’ heart. What does loving someone like that look like in my life?

I’m obviously not comparing you to Judas, but I know we’re both broken humans. I’m going to let you down and you’re going to let me down at some point. What does loving someone in those times look like? I don’t have all the answers, but I know it looks like always choosing to stay.

Marriage can’t be my dream anymore because marriage isn’t about me. Marriage is about God and His gospel and how He can make two broken humans display His love and beauty to the world because by His grace, they always choose to stay.

(Also I think I can add “choose to stay and have fun.” I know marriage is not all fun and games, and it’s going to be hard. Blah blah blah. But I don’t think lifeless and boring marriages attract people to God much. So I plan on laughing a lot, sometimes at inappropriate times, and having fun.)

I do hope you exist. I still hold onto the reasons I listed earlier for marriage, and I don’t think they’re inherently bad because now they stem from a new core desire God has placed in my heart over the past year.

God sees me. He sees all the bad and the ugly and chooses to stay. I know am loved. And by His grace, I want to see you. I want to know you–all your good and your bad and your hopes and dreams. I want to love you. I want to always choose to stay so that together we can understand more deeply God’s great love for us. (And I want to have fun.)

I know I probably didn’t learn as much as I think I did this past year about marriage. I’m a slow learner, and God is a patient teacher. I hope He continues to show you how much He loves you in personal and unique ways. I hope I get to know your name soon.

Love,
Sarah

AKA-The best thing to ever happen to you outside of your salvation.


PS – I’m not just sitting around twiddling my thumbs waiting for you. I’m chasing dreams. I just got back from Los Angeles because I’m trying to figure out how to write for TV or movies. I went alone, made some new friends and had a great time. You should be proud. I hope you have big dreams too, and I’m excited to help you chase them.13416851_860335675062_5258171142306005754_o PSS – I really am worried sometimes that maybe you don’t exist.

PSSS – I wasn’t joking about the wanting to have a lot of fun thing or the surprising me with a French Bulldog thing.