Daddy’s campooter has always fascinated me. Daddy always gets mad when I touch it though, like I’m gonna break it or something. I like breakables. Lighten up Daddy. Anyway, I’ve got my hands on it now. T-Bone is creating a diversion for me so I can play. I promised him I’d try to slip him a cookie.

So, in case you haven’t seen it, Cars is the best movie ever! Lightning McQueen says “Cachow.” Lightning McQueen has wheels. I like my Cars shirt and jammies. I wear my Lightning McQueen crocs all the time, the girls like them. What, Mr. Bun Man Show? Hang on a second, Edgar, Edgar, Edgar, you want me to spank your bottom Edgar. Edgar, Edgar, Edgar! Okay, I’m back now, just had to take care of something. Anyway, Mater is my favorite. Does Mater drive backwards? I think so. Mater does drive backwards. Crazy Grandpa car. What? He has a Piston Cup! Come on baby, bring out the Piston Cup! Does Sally say, “Hi folks?” Yeah, Sally does say, “Hi folks!” I want to watch Cars! I want to watch Cars! Can I watch Cars?

Mommy made me eat dinner tonight. I don’t like eating dinner. I had a cheese kay sa dee ya and some salad, but I really just wanted one of Grandpa Stu’s cookies. They are mine. Not for Mommy! Anyway, my ka sa dee ya was ok, it was warm, not hot. Warm is good. So I ate it and then had some of Daddy’s apple juice. I like Daddy’s apple juice.

I got to go outside and swing on my swingset today. It is my swing. I love my lellow swing. Daddy made it for me. It’s mine, it’s not Stephen’s! I wish I could swing in my lellow swing all day. Swinging is fun. Mommy told me she liked to swing when she was a little girl. I like to swing. Does that mean I am a little girl? I’m not sure. I have a pee pee, like Daddy and Stephen, but I like to swing like Mommy when she was a little girl. Maybe I am a little girl? Mommy says I am a little boy. Crazy Grandpa car! Anyway, I like my lellow swing.

Well, Mommy Sara and Daddy Chris are almost done with changing Stephen’s diaper, I guess I should go before I am caught on Daddy’s campooter. I better go get that cookie for T-Bone, he kept them away for a while. If Daddy cathes me on his campooter, I might have to go to time out, or Daddy might paddle my bottom. No Daddy paddle my bottom! They are probably going to try and get me to go to sleep soon. But, I don’t have to. I didn’t last night, and my reward was getting to sleep in Daddy’s bed with him and Mommy. I liked that. Oooo, there’s Aggie. What you doing Aggie? Gotta run. Aggie, Aggie, Aggie Aggie!! Edgar, Edgar Edgar!

Night night!
Garrett

I’ve realized, recently, that I have become embroiled in pettiness, become a fairly petty person myself. Looking over my past few entries, I see that my focus has been skewed. I have not set my sights on “higher things”. I’ve lost perspective, but I see now that I am wrong.

Sadly, this past week, a family at church discovered that their almost three year old son has had a relapse in his cancer and that there is nothing more the doctors can do for him. This news has broken my heart. Cancer is an unjust and senseless disease, a mercenary sniper adhering to no code of war. It’s a stupid disease, and one I fervently pray will be completely wiped off the face of the earth.

This little boy, baby really, is beautiful, as are his parents and siblings. They are a wonderful family, and I grieve for them as they go through this process. No parent should have to bury a child.

In the process of all of this, I’ve realized that life is just too short to hold onto petty grudges, to be focused on the childish antics of people who are so lost themselves that they can only inflict pain and discontentment on those around them. I want, I need, to let go of my anger. I want, I need to move on from this. I want, I need, to focus on the important things in life. I need to love and care for my family. I need to show love to my students and to give them the best of what I have to offer. I need to focus on building up relationships with people who are truly seeking God’s will for their lives.

I heard a sermon this weekend that hit home for me. It was on “Intentional Faith Development”, one of the five practices of fruitful congregations that Bishop Robert Schnase writes of in his book of the same name. The pastor made the comment that in American churches, we really only skim the surface of spirituality and discipleship, like water bugs. He stated that intentional faith development involves coming back to life, and that it is a painful process to allow God to bring you back to life, but that when you undergo that process, you become infused with God. I started thinking of the Evanesence song, “Bring Me to Life”….
Wake me up inside
Wake me up inside
Call my name and
Save me from the dark
I’ve been asleep spiritually for too long, and I want to move beyond the surface. I want God to wake me up inside. More than that, I want to be infused with God’s spirit, and I want God’s spirit to diffuse itself through me to others who need to feel and know God’s love and presence.

I pray continually for this family at church. I pray that they may feel God’s presence as they walk down this path of darkness.

I pray God can work in all our lives to infuse us with his Spirit and lead us closer to him.

Blessings and Peace,
Sara

I was listening to the latest Sara Groves CD on my way into work. I absolutely love this album. Well, I love most of Sara Groves’ albums, but this one is truly beautiful and has been speaking to me a lot lately. I was particularly focused on the song “A Way I Cannot See” this morning. In this song, she speaks of feeling defeated and burdened, and praying for inspiration and a “way I cannot see” in moving forward. I feel like I’m in this place.

My husband received another angry e-mail from a church member yesterday that has hurt both our spirits. This e-mail was from a member I’ve become close to and truly care about, and her anger at my husband made me very sad. I’m sad that she feels hurt and that it is affecting her ability to worship. I’m sad that her anger and hurt come from something she perceives my husband of doing. Throughout our struggles at our church this past year, it’s been very hard for me to see all of the misconceptions people have about my husband surface. We’ve been in this community almost two years now, and people still think the worst of his intentions. I know he’s not perfect, none of us are, but he has always worked with the church’s best interest at heart. He prays continually for this congregation and is trying to move forward in the direction he feels God calling him to lead. If he has hurt people, it has been unintentionally, and when he knows of a personal hurt he has caused, he has done his best to apologize and reconcile himself to that person. Are there things he would do differently in hindsight? Of course, but that’s true for all of us.

I feel sometimes that people forget he is a human being as well. And, he’s been hurt, too. People have a tendency to say hurtful things to and about him and not think that it’s going to hurt him. But, how could it not? He’s been treated repeatedly like a dumping ground and is expected to just sit and take it. How long can a person, should a person, do that?

I want the divisiveness in this church to end. I want reconciliation. I want this church to grow in this community and to be a vital ministry within our community. Yet every time I see us taking even a step in that direction, something pulls us back. There is little trust, and I’m not sure after two years how to build it. I have to believe that we were put in this place for a reason, but it’s such a struggle. So now I’m looking and praying for “a way I cannot see”. I want God to move in this congregation, to push through the muck and our own human faults and frailties to achieve his work through the people of this church. I want to see God’s work and know the struggle will give way to goodness.

Blessings and Peace,
Sara

As Christians, we like to talk a lot about the power of forgiveness, especially when it comes to the forgiveness of our own sins. We paint a picture of forgiveness that looks a lot like Julie Andrews spinning around a flowering Alpine meadow in The Sound of Music–light, airy, carefree, fulfilled. I’ve found, however, that forgiveness, true forgiveness, is much more like wading through a swamp. It’s muddy, mucky, and there are alligators hiding under the stagnant water. While I believe that in order to ask for forgiveness we must be willing to forgive others (“forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us”), sometimes it feels like an impossible task. And, humanly, it probably is. It’s not really in our nature to forgive, or in our culture for that matter. You get stuck in the muck of your own sense of righteousness and indignation. Our anger and pride (the biggest alligators of all) strike out at us, opening afresh wounds we’ve tried to slap a band-aide on.

I guess I’m thinking about this now because there are a few people in my life I’m having trouble forgiving. These people were people I trusted, people my husband and I invited into our home, people who turned around and stabbed us in the back, causing pain to both my husband and I and to the ministry of the church we serve. I’ve prayed about this over and over. I’ve prayed specifically for these people, that God would enrich their lives, fulfill their lives, heal their hurts. I’ve prayed that I might be able to forgive them and asked for help in moving forward. My difficulty is that I can’t seem to move beyond my own feelings of anger and injustice. These feelings have been heightened by the fact that these people insist on continuing their campaign of manipulation and hurt. As my husband so aptly said, “How are you supposed to turn the other cheek when you know someone’s just going to slap it?” I don’t know what else to do. I’ve thought about calling and meeting with them to discuss things, but conversations have been so manipulated in the past that I don’t trust it. I keep praying, but it’s so hard to let go. Maybe I don’t really want to. Anger can be a comforting blanket at times.

I recently read the novel, The Shack, which was wonderful and offered some truly brilliant insight into the importance and nature of Christian forgiveness. The novel pointed to the reconciliation that forgiveness can bring, which I believe, but I don’t know how to start. And, if I’m being truthful, I don’t know if I want to be reconciled to these people. I know there are two sides to every story, but I also know that there are people out there who are hell-bent on causing drama and divisiveness everywhere they go. So, again, what do I do? As a pastor’s wife, I feel like I have to set an example because there are several in the church watching. I also want to support my husband, who I believe is doing God’s will in this congregation, and help him to build strong relationships where I can.

I don’t know. I know I need to forgive, but I’m just stuck in the muck.

Blessings and Peace,
Sara

I am not a big believer in the Lenten season. It’s not that I don’t believe it’s important to be in an attitude of confession and penitence, to seek God’s will and set your sights on higher things, it’s just that as a Christian I think you should be doing these things all the time. They should be a natural part of your faith walk, not just a once-a-year forty day practice. This mostly stems from the fact that I grew up in the Southern Baptist church and we never acknowledged Lent. Until I became a Methodist I thought it was something only Catholics practiced. However, as I grow in my understanding of the Church, I see more merit in the customs and actions surrounding Lent. That said, I’ve decided this year to actually give up something for Lent. I’m going to give up complaining.

It seems throughout this past decade or so we have become a nation of negativity. Complaining is commonplace. In fact, it is very much encouraged. Look at all of our reality T.V. shows. People do nothing but complain, and then the audience is encouraged to criticize and complain about the contestants on the show. Remember the presidential election campaign? What did the candidates do? Complain. Pick up a newspaper and read a Letter to the Editor–complaints. Think back to the last conversation you had. Did you complain about something? I was in the teacher’s lounge, so I know I did! It’s ridiculous, and I’ve gotten just as caught up in it as anyone else. So, I’ve decided that Lent is as good a time as any to take a stand.

But, before I begin, I have a few fundamental questions. First, what’s the difference between a complaint and a statement of fact? For instance, if I say, “I’m tired of the cold”, am I complaining or stating an opinion? If I get stuck in a parade of traffic on my way to work and tell someone that, am I complaining? What if I need to vent about classes or church? Can I do that and not be complaining? Or, if someone’s a big fat jerk and I point that out to someone else, does that constitute a complaint? I mean, if the shoe fits…. And what about sarcasm? Done well, it can truly become art.

I went onto the website of “A Complaint Free World” to get some answers. It’s a non-profit organization dedicated to helping people live more positive lives. It was started by a minister in the Kansas City area, Will Bowen I think his name is, and they’ve done a lot of good work. But all I could find on their website was the opportunity to buy a book. That doesn’t really help me at the moment (Was that a complaint?). So, I’m left to figure it out on my own. I’m just going to do the best I can and look for the best in others. And maybe avoid the teacher’s lounge, at least for 40 days.

Blessings and Peace,
Sara

I have never been a “girly-girl”. I played around with eye shadow in eighth grade, wore lipstick on and off through high school, and had a disastrous perm experience that left me with “Cher-hair” (seriously) in middle school. But other than that, I’ve prided myself on being a blow-dry and go girl. No make-up, just good ole face wash and moisturizer. No fuss, no muss. So, it’s a surprise to me as I’ve gotten older that my appearance has become more important to me. It started with nail polish after college. Then, when I could afford it, I fell in love with highlights in my mid-twenties as my hair became more salt and peppered. But the biggest leap has come now that I’m into my thirties. I have discovered the power of the “Chi”.

It all started when I spent a few days with my sister in Kansas City. If I am a no fuss, no muss girl, my little sister is all fuss, all muss. She is meticulous with her hair and make-up, taking as long as necessary to get her hair just right before she leaves the house. She has all sorts of hair products, one of which happens to be a Chi hair straightener. I had some time when I was visiting her (she was taking care of my sons) so I decided to have some fun and give the Chi a try. That was all it took. I was smitten. You see, although my hair has always had lots of body, it’s never been curly. After the “Cher-hair” disaster and another average perm, I realized my dream of cascading spirals was never going to materialize. And so, I let it go, never realizing that there might be another option. I never thought my hair might be straight.

The moral of all of this is that maybe we each have a little bit of girly-girl in us after all. And although I spend more time on my hair than I ever have before, it’s only a matter of minutes. Maybe it’s vanity, or just a repressed need to try and slow the aging process, but it makes me happy every day to plug in my Chi.

Thank you to my wonderful hubby by the way for bringing the Chi permanently into my life:)

Blessings and Peace,
Sara

I was sitting in the teacher’s lounge the other day, listening to teachers do what they do in the teacher’s lounge, vent (unless it’s an American Idol Day). One of the teachers made the comment that she didn’t know why she bothered putting so much into the process of teaching when the kids don’t seem to care. The other teachers groaned in empathy and agreed. I had to laugh though. I mean really, any good teacher knows that deep down (sometimes very deep down) we do it because we love the kids. The bueracracy of our educational system has tried to thwart that, with ridiculous curricular goals and too much emphasis placed on standardized tests, but real teachers know what matters most.

I was reminded of that last week in an encounter I had with one of my students. We’ve been reading Jon Krakauer’s Into the Wild, and in the middle of the author’s discourse on his relationship with his father, one of my boys walked out of the room. This is the second year I’ve had this student in class, and we have a pretty good relationship, so I just thought maybe he wasn’t feeling well. After a bit, another student asked if he could go check on the boy. I was surprised when the other student opened the classroom door and saw that the boy was not in the bathroom, but outside in the hall. I went out in the hall to see what was going on, and saw that my student was crying. I sat down next to him and asked what was going on. It was the book, the discussions of the volitale relationships between fathers and sons had struck home to him, as he and his father have a very difficult relationship. We talked for a few minutes and went back into class.

The point of all of this is that this is what teaching should be about. It’s about building relationships with students. It’s about being there for them, helping them grow, providing them a sounding board, encouraging them to think for themselves. We put the effort into our classes not so our students can be successful on a test, but so they can be successful in life. It’s a privilege to teach– I need to remember that come Monday morning!

Blessings and Peace,
Sara

So, I just finished reading a new set of books by Ann Turnbull that I have to blog about. No Shame, No Fear and Forged in the Fire. These books are amazing!! Set in England in the mid 1600’s, the books tell the love story of Susanna and Will. Susanna is a young Quaker girl and Will the son of a wealthy merchant. Will is drawn to both the Quakers and Susanna, but his father disapproves of both. In a time of persecution, Will and Susanna have to decide what is worth sacrificing for love of each other and of God.

The second book (and probably my favorite) continues their story through an outbreak of the Plague in 1665 and then the Great Fire of London in 1666. Both stories are told in alternating viewpoints from Susanna and Will. The characters grow in depth and maturity throughout the books as they face a myriad of obstacles, but hope always springs forth through their love and faith.

I searched online to see if a third book is in the works, but so far, no word. Turnbull definitely leaves it open for a continuation, and this reader is very hopeful that a new book will come.

If anyone reads this blog– check out these books!!

Blessings and Peace,
Sara

Wow! I can’t believe it’s been almost a year since I’ve posted!! Where has the time gone? I feel like so much has changed since I’ve last written. And, the fact that I haven’t posted in so long effectively means that the only one reading this will be me.

Well, our second son was born in June, five days before his big brother’s second birthday. It was beautiful. Stephenson Murod came out at just over six pounds. His name comes from my maiden name and the name of my husband’s best friend who died of cancer several years ago. We took Stephen home the day after he was born and he promptly slept for the first two weeks of his life. Everything with Stephen is easier than with his brother. He loves to eat (at 8 1/2 mos. he’s already pushing twenty pounds!) sleep, and is generally very happy. He loves to move and is already crawling and pulling up to standing on furniture. He delights in his big brother, who is just thrilled to be Stephen’s center of attention. Everything Garrett does is simply hilarious to Stephen.

Garrett continues to become a “little man”. He talks, constantly, and we now have what I would call complete conversations. He’s become obsessed with the movie Cars. We watch at least part of it on a daily basis and he quotes it to us throughout the day. He’s finally eating table foods and is filling out a bit, although his ribs are still visible through both his chest and back. But his face is filling out, so I’m not too concerned. He’s become a big fan of cookies, especially his Grandpa Stu’s cookies, so that’s become our tool for getting him to finish a meal.

I still love teaching high school. It’s so great to work for supportive administrators in a district that strives to be progressive. My students are at this moment attempting to stay awake while they finish reading Jon Krakauer’s Into the Wild. We only have a classroom set, so all of our reading has had to be done in class. I thought my student’s would really like the book, but they find it pretty dull. I think it’s because it’s non-fiction and they just don’t get a lot of that.

It’s funny to me that I was ready to give up teaching six years ago because I’ve found that I really love it. Although, I was on the blog page for Susan Pfeffer, a young-adult author who’s written/writing a series of books I love, and I couldn’t help but feel that familiar twinge of longing to do that for a living. But, I’d miss the kids, which is why I teach. And, I love exploring literature with them.

Things at the church are o.k. We went through a really rough spell, but things are turning in the right direction. I no longer want to leave as soon as possible, so that’s good. It helps that we’ve made some friends, other young couples who are transplants to our small community and have struggled as we have. I know Chris is doing good work. Plus, he will be ordained this summer! Ten years of hard work is finally coming to fruition. I’m so excited for him!!

Well, that’s about it. It’s hard to sum up a year in a nutshell. It’s definitely been a year of growth, both literally and figuratively! Until next time…

Blessings and Peace,
Sara

P.S. I was totally consumed by the Presidential Election and thrilled with the results. 1600 bn. dollars worth of debt however, not so much!

Living in one of the richest countries in the world, I realize that there is much I take for granted. One of those things is access quality healthcare. I don’t know why it is, but I find myself continually questioning the authority of the doctors I go to for treatment. This isn’t true across the board. I loved my family care practitioner in Kansas City and trusted her judgment in almost all things.

Yet, in my first pregnancy I canceled my first scheduled induction because I thought it was a dumb thing to have to do and I wanted a natural childbirth. (She had a lot to say about that, by the way!) And recently, I’ve completely ignored picking up a prescription another doctor sent in for me because I think I can manage things better on my own. This sounds dumb, I know, but my experience with doctors throughout this pregnancy is that they’re really kind of a pain. Although I like my ob, I can’t stand the clinic he works with. They don’t take care of anything “in-house”. I’ve been sent all over the place for various routine tests and procedures, and when I recently tested positive for gestational diabetes, I was sent to an entirely different doctor who specializes in high-risk pregnancies. This is the doctor who phoned in a prescription for me to boost my insulin levels after checking my sugar levels four times a day for less than a week showed that my sugar after lunch has been a little high. The same thing occurred in my last pregnancy, but instead of putting me on medication, I worked with my nutritionist to lower the sugars naturally. And, we did. So, I think it can be done again. I’ve tweaked my snack time and added some extra protein at lunch, which is seeming to help. I don’t want to risk the health of the baby, but I also don’t want to rush into any sort of medicinal treatment that can be avoided.

I think my overall frustration is that I feel like my doctor’s office, instead of treating me, is just trying to cover their butts. And I’m tired of being told where to go, what to do, and when to do it without any sort of input or thoughts on my part. I don’t feel like I’m part of the process for my own treatment, and I have a real problem with that. Although I appreciate all of the advances made in medicine, and all of the things doctors are capable of doing, I want to have some say in it as well. My family care doctor in Kansas City was excellent in overall patient care. She took the time to get to know me, to know how I felt about medicine. I always felt like I had a say in my treatment, for the most part. What she really did best was to take time. She always sat and talked, and would stay as long as I wanted or needed her to stay, for both myself and my son whom she treated as well.

I know I should be grateful to live in a society where I have access to good healthcare, and to have the insurance to cover that healthcare, I just don’t want to get lost in the treatment process.

So, that’s my rant, and I feel better for having given it.

Blessings and Peace,
Sara