Home

I had it pulled up for weeks, the Zillow page for this house I have never seen, never visited. This home that once belonged to other people, but now sat empty, waiting. It was not my home, but now it is home, not for me, but for my people.

My parents made it known some years ago that they did not, could not, plan to stay in my teenage home forever. (Even that was not home for all of my childhood, but it was the only home we lived in long enough for me to consider it home, the only home my parents ever bought, the only home my parents ever paid off, the only home my parents owned.) They considered selling for a while, and tried, but to no avail. Then suddenly, all the pieces fell into place. They got a buyer for their house. They moved their stuff east. They went searching, and before I knew it, this house was on my phone screen, this new home for my people.

After over 25 years of my parents being in one place, it is strange to think of this new house as belonging to my parents. Their things were not in it yet. Technically, they had yet to take possession, but it was theirs, or would be theirs. Keeping the house photo up on my phone helped my brains start accepting that. 

Change is hard. I still do not see this new state as my parents' home. I see it as my brother's home. I still have not quite grasped the fact that my parents will now be two days away from me. I am used to driving north for two hours and being at their doorstep. This new house on my screen looked empty, foreign, but change happens in stages, so I left the house up, each time I saw it, reminding myself that this is now a home, not for me, but where my people will be.

Ultimately, home is not a place. It is not the old house, or this new one. It is where my heart is, and my heart is with my people, wherever they may be. Near or far, a piece of my heart goes where they are, and maybe that's part of the reason I kept looking at this house on my screen, because a part of me was moving here, not physically, but mentally and emotionally. My family is my home, and my heart moves with them,  to this house, and perhaps to another and another, until one day we all make our forever home with Jesus.

Elusive Trust

Trust. It's a tricky thing. I think I have it, and then I suddenly realize I don't. And it's the slightest things that tend to reveal my lack of trust. That person not doing what they said they'd do one time. My husband coming home slightly later than expected. A miscommunication. Yes, sometimes it's big things, too, things that end relationships, but more often it's ins and outs of everyday life. I think the problem comes down to trust in God.

I don't think I fully trust God. I know I should, but as a fallen human, I don't. Change shows me this. Change is inevitable, sometimes good, sometimes bad, sometimes neutral, but always part of life. And it freaks me out. This is what shows me that I don't fully trust God. Because if I did, I would be stable. I would be immovable, fixed on God, the ever unchanging one (Heb 13:8). I am not fully there.

Because I am not fully founded and rooted in God, I struggle to trust myself. I question my body when it changes. I question if I can trust my intuition. I question my five senses. I question myself. That then transfers to others. I question my husband. I question my friends. I question motives. I question intentions. I question.

Thus far in life trust, or at least total and complete trust, has alluded me. It bugs me. It bugs those I love. (Ask my husband!) I am sure it grieves God. So I've got to work on it, work on believing what I read in the Word. Work on believing what I know. Work on accepting change, knowing that God is not elusive. He is ever present. He never fails, and that changes the world!

Our Bodies Are Meant to Change.

It's a fact of life: bodies change, but that's not something consumer culture wants to normalize. Instead, it wants to sell us stuff to prevent that. I am not against these products per se. I have used anti-aging face cream for a long, long time. But what if we started normalizing body change? What if we destigmatized it? What if we tried to start accepting, and maybe even loving these ever changing shells that hold our souls?

Diet culture is a big bucks industry. In 2021, diet culture raked in over $60 billion dollars (Streatfeild et. al). Diets are ten percent (or less!) effect at changing bodies permanently, though (Alexander, 2020). Statistically, we're almost batting zero when we try to fight out body change. So what if we accepted it? As Jennifer Rollin (2017) writes, "Our bodies are not 'slabs of marble' and they are meant to change as we age. Thus, putting our self-worth into our body and appearance is a recipe for life-long discontent." And who wants that? 

If we changed our tact, we might work at feeling at home in our body. To do that, we will first have to disconnect our worth and identity from our body's shape and size (Mitchell, 2017a). Yes, our body is our home, but it isn't us. Feeling at home in our bodies means owning them, embodying them (Mitchell, 2017b), being grateful for them, and buying clothes for them in appropriate sizes (Nohling, 2018), even if that means sizing up (Rebolini, 2016). It's about more than feeling at home, though, it's about being at home.

Being at home in our bodies means building a holistically meaningful life. It's about "identifying your values and being able to align your behaviors and thoughts with your values" (Nohling, 2018b). It's about connecting with others (Nohling, 2017). It's about "getting wiser and more confident," and our bodies showing the age associated with that (Hartley, 2018). It's about accepting that there is nothing wrong with aging.

My body is not what it used to be. I am over thirty, not recovering as fast as I used to, and noticing a few wrinkles and age spots start to pop up, even in spite of that face cream I use. But you know what? The older I get, the more I want to accept this body in all of its changes. This body is mine. It is changing with me. It is changing for me, allowing me to live this one great, incredible life, and I am grateful to God for that!

References:

Alexander, H. (2020, June). Does your body have a set point weight and can you change it? MD Anderson Cancer Center. https://www.mdanderson.org/publications/focused-on-health/what-is-your-body-s-set-point-weight-and-can-you-change-it-.h15-1593780.html

Hartley, R. (2018). Body image through stages of life. Rachael Hartley Nutrition. https://www.rachaelhartleynutrition.com/blog/body-image-through-stages-of-life

Mitchell, K. (2017a, October 13). Feeling at home in your body (<--I Adore This Phrase)  ImmaEatThat. https://immaeatthat.com/2017/10/13/feeling-at-home-in-your-body/

Mitchell, K. (2017b, October 17). Specific ideas for how to feel at home in your body. ImmaEatThat. http://immaeatthat.com/2017/10/17/specific-ideas-for-how-to-feel-at-home-in-your-body/

Nohling, R. (2017, December 7). I can't love my body at this weight. The Real-Life RD. https://www.thereallife-rd.com/2017/12/positive-body-image/

Nohling, R. (2018a, January 11). How to appreciate and care for your changing body. The Real-Life RD. https://www.thereallife-rd.com/2018/01/dealign-with-a-body-changes/

Nohling, R. (2018b, January 23). How to overcome fears around your body changing. The Real-Life RD. https://www.thereallife-rd.com/2018/01/fears-around-your-body-changing/

Rebolini, A. (2016, July 21). Getting rid of clothes I hated helped me love my body. Buzz Feed. https://www.buzzfeed.com/ariannarebolini/instead-of-losing-weight-i-just-lost-the-clothes-7vd?

Rollin, J. (2017, July 5). What going up in clothing size really means. Huff Post. https://www.huffpost.com/entry/what-going-up-in-clothing-size-really-means_b_595cdbf9e4b0326c0a8d13dc

Streatfeild, J., Hickson, J., Austin, S. B., Hutcheson, R., Kandel, J. S., Lampert, J. G., Myers, E. M., Richmond, T. K., Samnaliev, M., Velasquez, K., Weissman, R. S., & Pezzullo, L. (2021). Social and economic cost of eating disorders in the United States: Evidence to inform policy action. The International journal of eating disorders, 54(5), 851–868. https://doi.org/10.1002/eat.23486

The Only Thing Constant...

It has been said that the only constant is change. And man, is that ever true! I don't like change. It feels disquieting and unsettling. It feels unsafe it is unknownness. But it comes, like it or not. And change can be good, is often good. I just forget that.

It's been a year of technological change for me. Only one of the changes I wanted, and even that was because something broke, and I decided to buy a new one while upgrading something else. The changes have been frustrating, overstimulating, and sometimes routine upending. Yes, I am talking about first-world "problem" change, but the emotions exist within me nonetheless.

I have been having to navigate these changes by asking for help. I have been having to tell myself that these changes are good, or at least can be good. I am having to remind myself that God is God, even amidst the change. In the end, He will remain, even if all of these other things continue to change, and then do not exist.

As my husband aptly pointed out the other day, the only true constant is God. He is the one who can work all things together for good, in this life, and in the next. My technological changes are probably for the best, but when the harder, less preferred changes come, may I believe the same. "Jesus Christ is the same yesterday and today and forever" (New International Version, 2011, Heb 13:3). Amen!

Reference:

New International Version. (2011). BibleGateway.com. http://www.biblegateway.com/versions/New-International-Version-NIV-Bible/

I Wasn't Ready.

I wasn't ready to replace the air conditioner in our home, but then our air conditioner quit in the heat of summer. The repair man said it was best to replace, rather than repair, the unit. I didn't want to, but it was the best decision, so we did.

I wasn't ready to purchase a new car, but then ours got totaled in an accident that wasn't our fault. We had to either pay for a rental, go without a car, or buy what we could find. My husband found us a car that was not our top pick, but work work, so we bought it. 

I wasn't ready to remodel our kitchen, but then our refrigerator quit, and taking it out damaged our flooring. We didn't really have a choice but to replace the floor, or for that matter, cut the cabinet under which the new fridge wouldn't fit unless we did.

I wasn't ready to learn a new operating system for my laptop, especially after having to set up a new laptop just two years ago. Then the screen on my new laptop separated. My husband said the best thing to do was buy a new laptop. He would not settle for the budget model this time. It was a good laptop, or nothing. So now I am learning how to use something new again. It is frustrating, but necessary.

I think I live under the illusion that I have more power than I actually have. I think that as an adult, I often believe that I have the ability to choose when I will make changes in my life. No, not really. Changes comes whether I like them or not. And changes often bring good things. Don't get me wrong, all the new stuff we have had to purchase has been expensive. But (after the sticker shock and adjustment periods), the changes have been good:

Our new air conditioner works more efficiently and saves us on our utility bills.

Our new car gets good gas mileage and has taken us on many important journeys, from friend's weddings to family emergencies, to our daily jobs, and more.

Our new refrigerator has many nice conveniences, not the least of which is an ice maker which we especially appreciate on these hot summer days.

My new computer, well, it is new, and still a source of some frustration, but Lord willing, it should last up to ten years and reduce need for more purchases and change-outs of more cheap models.

I wasn't ready. To be honest, I'm rarely ready, but to change up the lyrics of Mercy Me's Song, "Bring the Rain:"

"Bring me joy, bring me peace

Bring the chance to be free

Bring me anything that brings You glory

And I know there'll be days

When this life brings me pain

But if that's what it takes to praise You

Jesus, bring the [change]"

I Can Only Change Me.

I can only change me. Try as I might to exert my will, my way, it doesn't work. What I want might seem to be best, but what do I know? Only God knows. I can only change me.

Jesus talked about judging others when he walked the earth. "'Why do you look at the speck of sawdust in your brother’s eye and pay no attention to the plank in your own eye?'" He asked (Matt 7:4, New International Version). "'How can you say to your brother, "Let me take the speck out of your eye," when all the time there is a plank in your own eye? You hypocrite, first take the plank out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly to remove the speck from your brother’s eye'" (vv. 4-5). I have a LOT of planks in my own eyes: failings, fallings, falterings, and just plain human weaknesses. So who am I to judge? Expending my energy on someone else is not going to change anything. I can only change me.

Sometimes, it seems that my own weaknesses and fears are actually what sensitize me to judging, too. As Lisa Bevere shares about her own marriage in her book, Unrivaled, "[His] imperfections were exposing mine on a much grander scale than I imagined possible." I think that is the case with a lot of relationships. Their failings expose mine, and in big ways. I cannot change them, though. I can only change me.

It's hard, even painful, to realize that I have so many failings, that I have so little control. By God-given design, though, I do have some control. I have control over myself through the power of the Holy Spirit. I can only change me. God can only change me. May it be so.

References:

Bevere, L. Without rival: Embrace your identity and purpose in an age of confusion and comparison. Revell.

I'm Grateful for My Tribe.

It's been a whirlwind of a life lately: The Grand Canyon, moving, Thanksgiving, looking for a new job, commuting for work, and overall just trying to get used to the new "normal." Along the way, I've had so many texts, e-mails, and calls, some from people I consider myself close to, and others that I didn't know cared. Even as my own faith has faltered, I have been so ENCOURAGED.

So if you've written, called, talked, or texted me lately. Thank you. If you've prayed, thank you. If you've thought of us, or helped us in our process, or provided material goods, thank you. It takes a village. It takes a tribe, and I'm grateful for mine...family, friends, and overall, just those that care.

TO GOD BE THE GLORY!

Metamorphosis

"You look really good." I've heard that from two friends lately. While I don't want to put too much stock in external validation, their words meant a lot, because for many years, I've gotten criticism about the way I looked. And with good reason. Sometimes I was sick. Sometimes I was stressed. Sometimes I was sick because I was stressed. Sometimes I was stressed because I was sick. And sometimes I was stressed and sick. And it showed.

Life is not a bed of roses, but I do feel that I'm in a better place now. Maybe it's marriage. Maybe it's coming home to myself. Maybe it's age and maturation. All I know is that I'm in a process of becoming that isn't over yet.

I liken life to a serious of metamorphoses. There are times when we're in the darkness of the cocoon, safe and warm and well fed. And there are times when we're struggling against the darkness, trying to get out and be free. And there are times when we are happy, not perfectly so, but joyful. And we celebrate those times.

Tomorrow is World Mental Health Day, and in honor of it, I'd like to challenge all of us to take a minute to consider where we've been, where we are, and where we're going. May we remember that we are never stuck in the darkness. May we remember that freedom comes when we fight the good fight. May we remember that life is beautiful even if painful at many points along the way. Life is worth living, at any and every stage. May we live today and each day to its fullest. To God be the glory.

The Many Boots of Sarah

I've been trying to appreciate the seasons more, even if their changes are a little bit hard for me. One of the ways I've been doing that is via boots. 

Wait, boots? You might ask.

Yes, boots. My job is such that I wear tennis shoes almost every day. But I like boots and have quite a collection of them. And as it gets colder, boots are more appropriate footwear. So I set out on a mission to wear a new pair of boots every Sunday. And I took pictures to document.

Leather cowboy boots

Tall boots (Similar to these, but without the heel)

Sneaker boots

Pirate boots (Similar to these, but in pleather, not leather, and much lower quality)

Leather boots*

Fuzzy boots*

Suede cowboy boots*

Heeled boots*

Eskimo boots (Similar to these, but with external fur, and bought for me almost 10 years ago)

*These boots weren't all mine. The asterisked ones are my mom's.

Maybe this was a silly project, but you know what? It helped. It gave me something to look forward to. It inspired me to mix up my wardrobe a little bit since I didn't want to wear the same outfit twice for pictures. I actually got excited about the cold the last Sunday, because it made it comfortable to wear my last pair of boots, which were very warm. It's the little things sometimes, and I enjoyed this little (or big?) project.

And no, I don't need more pairs of boots. I've obviously got enough....

The Changes of Fall

“There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens.”

~Ecclesiastes 3:1

My alarm blares and it's cool outside. I rise and shuffle to the bathroom and see no sun at the window. I pull into the driveway at night after work just as the sunlight is fading. I throw on a light jacket before dinner. Flowers begin to drop their petals and die. Tinges of colors appear in the leaves of trees. This is autumn and it's difficult for me.

I thrive on sunlight and light and joy. I relish long days of heat and warmth and productivity. I like the brown tone of my skin and the sun-kissed streaks of my hair. I like walking, and hiking, and running; wearing tank tops and shorts and cropped yoga pants. I paint my toes and wear flip-flops. I wear my swim suit to the pool even if I don't swim.

And then it's all over. It's not, but I feel like it is. I have a sense of loss and mourning and deep sadness. It's the weather, I know, but this changing of seasons is HARD for me. The weather is unpredictable. My wardrobe choices cater towards the cold mornings or the hot days and fall short at the opposite hour. The light I love arrives and departs far too quickly. Life fades and dies. But this season of autumn is like life.

Life has its seasons, too: infancy, childhood, adolescence, adulthood. Singleness, dating; marriage. Children, no children, being cared for by children. Elementary school, middle school, high school, college. Careers and career changes. Retirement. Life is full of change. Life is change. And change is HARD.

God is working on my heart in this season, teaching me to look for the joy amidst the pain of the hard: afternoons cool enough to sit outside midday; the return of pumpkin puree to the baking aisle; pumpkin pie spice products at Trader Joe's; autumn colors in the leaves; new crops of apples arrive. And God is reminding me that some things need to die in order for others to live. Some relationships come and then change, or go, making room for others. People we revered become people we don't know and God shows us new sources of truth. Flavors, and tastes, and preferences become different. Things that used to bring satisfaction or joy don't. It's not necessarily that the beauty is corrupted, but that it dies in order to allow us to discover something else.

New things happen in fall, but some stay the same at the same time. My family is still here to support me. I still have a home. The outdoor world might be different, but there is still sun and I can walk and hike and jog in it. My church is still standing. I still have friends, even if at a distance. The Bible is still true. I am thankful for these things. God is still here. God is still here, even as many other worldly things are falling away.

What Really Matters/Priorities

I've been on a cleaning spree lately. Just ask my mom. Most of last Friday night saw clothes strewn all over my queen bed, dressing table, and floor. That included clothes flung out of my suitcase. In sorting, I found clothes I forgot I had, clothes that brought back memories (good and bad), and clothes that I realized I'd never wear again. I discarded an entire kitchen-sized bag of clothes and guess what? When I finished, I had room to house most of my clothes in the closet, instead of in clothes, drawers, and that very inconvenient suitcase.

This cleaning spree started with my reading of The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up by Marie Kondo. The crux of the book is learning to discard any item that doesn't spark joy. Even items that might be used "someday" should be discarded if the person isn't attached. The person can always repurchase items if he or she misses them. (This point struck home for me, because I'm a major, "What if?" hoarder.) Kondo posits that doing a massive cleaning and tidying of one's home allows a reset of life and a re-focusing on priorities. I think she might be a bit ambitious, but I'm still experiencing benefits from this practice.

I haven't had time to purge all of my possessions at once, so I've been doing it little by little. I purged my purse last weekend after the Friday clothes review. In my purse, I found two old flashlights that weren't working, but were weighing down my bag. I found dozens of business cards from providers I no longer use. I gave the flashlights to Dad and trashed the cards. My purse feels so much lighter now, even with my IPhone in its Otter Box!

This afternoon, I sorted and shredded paperwork, managing to fit the important stuff into one accordian file. Kondo suggests that individuals should keep only paperwork that they readily access, and then sort it lightly. The act of looking for paperwork afterward serves as a reminder to constantly purge it. I've obviously kept too much stuff for too long, because I purged what became bags of shredded paper.

As I've purged, I've rediscovered old treasures, like my 5K race medals, my mother's locket, and my grandmother's Ecuadorian necklace. I'm realizing what matters to me and what I'd like to display when I find my own home. This process is cathartic.

Is tidying solving all of life's problems? No. I'm experiencing a season of change and that change won't go away. Tidying gives me something to do with my restless energy, however. I feel relief when I lighten the loads of belongings piled up in my room, and in my life. Tidying isn't magic. It's a practice in prioritization.