quiet

It's ironic: the best word to describe my state of being, now that noise is allowed back in my life, is "quiet." It's a deep contentment, a peaceful watchfulness. I'm loving it.

My scope for radio silence was so small at the outset, compared to where it ended up. "Father in Heaven, will Chris and I just be wasting our time if we keep dating?" I really grappled with that question. Each day, I had new tears and a different opinion, and each day, I deeply questioned any peace I thought I'd found. There just seemed to be so much static, so much information to try to work with and reconcile. Then, on Wednesday, I had a new thought.

And it changed everything.

The fact of the matter is, no matter what situation I am in, I have a responsibility to be as Christlike as possible. I realized that the troubling situation Chris and I were in, the one that lead me to this week's question, was partially my fault.

For years, I've had an underlying belief that is so completely false. Regardless, I've believed it, and lived by it, and I think it's undermined every dating experience I've ever had. The gist? That I have to give love unconditionally in order to receive any love at all.

The biggest repercussion of this idea, for me at least, is that I've accepted worse treatment than I deserve (to varying degrees.) I've loved with an element of desperation. I've lived beneath my privileges. I've been insecure. In short, I have not been as Christlike as I ought to be.

But no more. I get to be a different person now, even though all I asked for was help in figuring out my relationship status. God is so good. This new insight has taken so much of the urgency out of my approach to dating, and replaced it with a sense of peace. I wasn't sure that would ever happen...but I have finally made significant progress.

When I talked to Chris today, I offered to keep trying, because maybe this realization was what needed to change for us. In the end, he declined, citing that he felt he needed to make his own changes, too, and do some experimenting of his own -- and that couldn't happen while he was in a relationship.

That's okay. Chris and I might not be dating anymore, but I am better for this experience, and I think that's the best we can ask from our relationships anyway. I've gained so much knowledge in the last week -- the last 6 months -- and I'm excited to use it.


Grateful to use it, in fact.

Life is good.

laying the foundation of a great work

I'm facing a big life change shortly. It's not that I'm making a decision, but rather that I've made a decision already, and the time to act on that decision is getting really close.

And I don't know how all this is going to turn out. Worst case scenario is that I will be completely broke, unemployed, and 2000 miles away from home.


I am so scared.

I just keep reminding myself that if that's how it turned out, I would still have my God. He won't tell me to do something and then walk away and make me clean up the mess. He doesn't work like that.


Knowing that, I would still feel like I had done the right thing and still know that eventually, everything will turn out fine. It would try me in ways I can't fathom, and require some serious character building, but then again...isn't that just life?

I will have everything I require, and it will arrive at the Lord's hands. It might not happen quickly, but it will happen exactly on time. Until then, it is my business, my privilege, to do small things that will lay the foundation of a great work. If I am both willing and obedient, I will "eat the good of the land of Zion." 

So here's me, loosening the petrified grip I have on my heart, bending my mind into willingness, and trusting (hoping!) that no, the Lord's ways are not my ways...

But His ways are certainly better.

Day One

My strongest instinct right now is to run. Just run, straight back to Rexburg.

It's the same feeling I had the first day of my Euro-trip. Our tour directors sent us out to explore Galway. I linked on to a group of about ten people (far too large for travel, by the way) and we wandered the streets of a touristy little Irish city. At first, my bravado propelled me into a flippant leadership role: "I don't know if this is the right way, but what have we got to lose? Let's try it!" The other ten girls complied easily enough. However, as the shops thinned out, so did my bravado. We turned around.

I spent the remainder of the trip as a ready and willing follower, and the remainder of the day as an anxious small-town American.While Galway isn't huge, it was still formidable to my Oxford, North Carolina and Rexburg, Idaho sensibilities. The rub of people and streets in big cities blisters those sensibilities very quickly.

So, Salt Lake is reminding me of that right now. I miss familiar faces. I have said goodbye far too many times in the last week: the 40 other pilgrims, my parents, my sister and her family, Tim, Natalie, Chelsea, and finally my little brother this morning. Joe has been the PERFECT roadtrip companion, so parting ways at the airport almost provoked tears. It didn't help any that he took the GPS with him. I hate finding my way around. I don't know where the nearest gas station is, where to look for apartments, OR how to navigate all the blasted construction. The only thing I know is that the little town that holds my best friends is straight north on I-15.

However, that is not the path I intend to take.

Like the clothing and toiletries and electronics waiting on my bed, I carefully lay out all of the reasons I'm not on my way to Idaho right now. Inconvenience is a big one, seeing as it's a 3 or 4 hour drive. My dignity is another. I know they wouldn't mind, but as hard as today is, I would be humiliated to suddenly hurl myself back into Tim, Natalie, and Chelsea's arms.

These factors helped me to stay in Europe, too. You can imagine how inconvenient it would have been to turn around and fly home again. And how ridiculous I would have looked to unexpectedly arrive at the door of Kensington 205, while the pilgrimage went on without me. And yet, I think the real motivation for staying in Europe is the same one that will keep me here in Utah. Now that I've worked through a few panicked compulsions, I remember that I do, in fact, have a sense of adventure.

This brassy streak, like a thread of gold through cooler-hued stone, is a valuable and sometimes subtle aspect of my personality. It's the fight response beneath the flight. It inspires me to be excited about my 3pm appointment to inspect an apartment. It reminds me that I looked forward to this internship as a prospect of impressing professionals in my chosen field. It's the same thread of "shining dawn", to translate the Latin, that made the hole-in-the-wall hostel in Galway endearing. There, I made an amusing video of the labyrinthine path up to my room. Here, I write an exploratory blog post. And in both places, I try to hear Tim's voice in my head, telling me that I'm brave. It's a good thing I can hear it in my head, or I might run away to Rexburg to hear it in person.

But no. I sit here quietly and try to feel him patting me on the back, and to you, readers, I echo his words:

It's okay, Sara. You're going to do just fine.

Thanks, Tim...maybe you're right.

Honesty and Obstacles to Education: English 495 Senior Writing Seminar Assignment

Metaphor of the Day: Homework is like brushing your teeth. Kind of annoying, especially when you'd much rather go straight to bed...but let's face it. It's essential.

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"Another reason people don’t use their real voice is that it means having feelings and memories they would rather not have. When you write in your real voice, it often brings tears or shaking – though laughter too. Using real voice may even mean finding you believe things you don’t wish to believe. For all these reasons, you need to write for no audience and to write for an audience that’s safe. And you need faith in yourself that you will gradually sort things out and that it doesn’t matter if it takes time." (Peter Elbow, "How to Get Power through Voice")

My understanding of this assignment was that we were to discover what our core obstacle was to getting an education, and discuss it with full honesty. I’ve struggled with this assignment. I know what my core obstacle is...I just don’t want to talk about it. So after missing several deadlines, I met with Brother Ward and frankly told him that he didn’t know what he was asking of me. I survive by compartmentalizing my emotions; I succeed academically by removing my heart. Honesty is a hard thing to commit to, regardless of the venue.

Palmer states, “The goal of a knowledge arising from love is the reunification and reconstruction of broken selves and worlds.” That would be really, really nice – and I think, or hope, that it’s true. As I have learned more about myself – through professional counseling; wise, genuine friends; and an aching, downtrodden reach toward my Savior – I have learned the power of honestly acknowledging shortcomings.

Sometimes these shortcomings are our fault – sometimes not. That is not the point. We must confess the deficiencies that make up so much of our characters, so that the Savior can change our characters. “Until one is committed, there is hesitancy, the chance to draw back, always ineffectiveness. Concerning all acts of initiative and creation, there is one elementary truth, the ignorance of which kills countless ideas and splendid plans. It is this: The moment one definitely commits oneself, then providence moves you,” states Murray. As we have discussed in class, we must deeply understand the problem before the truth of the solution will become compelling.

I cried as I sat in Brother Ward’s office, while in the act of explaining that I intentionally muffle my emotions. On one hand, I did so because I was frustrated with my failure. But on the other hand, I cried because it felt so good to look the truth in the eye and confess that I was simply not up to the challenge. Individually, we don’t have to be up to the challenge of our own emotional disconnection, in our educations or otherwise. All we have to do, at least to get started, is to acknowledge that our disconnection exists, and ask for help.

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Hearing: let's see how far we've come / let's see how far we've come
Feeling: a little overwhelmed, but OK

To Do

I've been promising myself I'll write a new blog post (which was almost combined to be "blost", whatever that is.) There's been a lot on my mind lately, but the things that have put a lot on my mind haven't left me a whole lot of energy.

Take the impromptu party I had on Sunday, for example. It quickly went from a little dinner of three to a toast to the New Year with nine. Five of the nine were guys. The grand total for the evening was 12 different people in my apartment, all of them to see me, at least in part. It was some intense business, but I went to bed wishing they could have stayed. 

I thought all last semester that I had just too many friends. This semester is shaping up to be much along the same lines, at least. But it's also different, too. I can't even tell you how many times I've prayed, Lord, what do you want me to do here? So when I started to feel like the Lord handed me a To Do list that said "Be social, but don't forget Me" on it, it was...interesting. I mean, it wasn't my idea to stay in Rexburg for the winter. I feel like I'm tempting fate a little bit to be so excited to be here, but then I'm supposed to find joy in obedience, right?

I don't know -- I don't feel like I'm being terribly coherant, but that's what the inside of my brain is like right now. Basically I'm excited to be here for the winter, excited for all the friends I have, but cautious and worn-out because I don't know what's going to happen and I'm going beyond my comfort zone. But it'll be okay.