Remember God.

I just finished Remember God by Annie F. Downs.

OH MY GOODNESS!

The way she is honest and vulnerable with her story makes me cry.

Her story speaks to my story in that I also wonder if He is truly good and truly kind. If He doesn’t just tell me what I want to hear without any plans of following through with what He says. If the things I hope are in His script for my life, aren’t simply just vapors of hope.

I had hoped to go back to hospital nursing a year ago, and it seems like every step forward meets two steps back. I’m still moving forward just a whole lot slower than I had hoped or envisioned.

I had hoped to be overseas at this point, but my car accident threw a wrench in those plans 21 months ago.

At times like these, I return to the question that’s been mulling in my brain for the last 21 months-is God good? Annie takes it a little further-is God kind?

If I’m being honest, I still struggle with this. At times, I see God’s goodness, but the longer I’m in this wilderness, I tend to forget.

Forget how honesty God has spoken to me my whole life.

Forget how graciously He saved me 21 months ago.

Forget how sweetly God has loved through the hard times.

She asked this question that rocked me: Am I fully persuaded that God is for me and He will answer my prayers and fulfill His promises?

Fully. Persuaded.

Am I fully persuaded that He even hears my cries?

Am I fully persuaded that He is good?

My word for this year is expectation.

We are 10 months into the year, and God is bringing me around the mountain again. Things I had thought I handed over to Him, I realized I hadn’t handed it over in totality.

I’m expecting God to move, but I’m still holding my breath.

I’m not quite believing that the wilderness could end sometime-that I’m not going to be wandering forever.

As I processed this week and listened to this book, God reminded me of the manna he sent to the Israelites in the wilderness. It didn’t look anything like they expected it to.

Maybe the manna doesn’t look like anything I expected it to. Maybe God’s bringing me around the same mountain to cement the idea that He is God.

I think one of the purposes of the wilderness is to desire God above anything else.

A wise friend once said, “if you aren’t willing to let that thing-whatever it is-go,?you desire that thing above God.”

Maybe the purpose of the wilderness is to rediscover the love of God and how sweetly He loves.

Maybe the purpose of the wilderness is to remember God and cling to Him.

This is my prayer during this season-that I remember God. I remember the things He has done. Remember that His plans aren’t my plans. Remember that He is good-in totality. He is kind-completely and effortlessly-no matter how it turns out.

Maybe I’ll go back to hospital nursing. Maybe I’ll go overseas. Maybe I’ll get married. Maybe I’ll move out on my own. Maybe I won’t do any or some of those things, but even in that I’ll remember the manna. I’ll remember that oftentimes, God’s provision doesn’t look like we think it should.

I’ll remember that God is good. He is kind.

He is God.

King of the World

We sang the song “King of the World” in church today. It really hit me.

As life has been getting better, I’m going to be honest and admit that I sometimes forget God.

I mean that not in a “I forget You exist” way, but a “I’ll put You in a box” way.

As I get better, I find that I tend to forget all God has done and proceed to put Him in a box of what I want to see happen. I proceed to tell God what I want him to do.

“I want to go to that place, date that person, or do that life-changing thing.” I proceed to shrink Him down and put Him into a small box.

When I dare to do that, God proceeds to find ways to break out of that box I put Him in. He says, “You might want to go to that place, BUT I, the One who set it all in motion, have you right here, right now. MCS is your mission field right now”.

I pause.

As I heal, I need to remember, Jesus speaks and the storms quiet.

Jesus breathes life out of dust.

Jesus is the King of the World.

I need to remember to hold my plans, my aspirations, and my dreams losely. I’m not who I was a couple months ago, and I won’t be who I am now in a couple months. I am always changing at what seems like a breakneck pace and a turtle pace at the same time.

I’m learning to be patient with who I am and where I am right now. It’s not primarily about the destination, but it’s about the journey.

It’s about falling more in love with the King of the World.

It’s about the quiet mornings when He speaks through the sunrises.

It’s about the way He provides rest on the busy days.

It’s about dear friends who push you to seek refuge in Him.

It’s about the people who speak life into you on the days when your soul is empty.

It’s about sharing your story of the wilderness, and the sweetness of our Father.

You will eventually get where you are going, but the destination might not look like what you planned it looking like.

God is the King of the World, and He is present in the wilderness as you journey forward.

I’ll Carry the Fork and Other Phrases

If you want to know what goes on in my head or in the heads of people that experience any sort of brain injury, then read this book!

Kara Swanson puts, in a light-hearted way, the struggles that encompass a brain injury. Brain injuries are like snowflakes-no two are exactly the same-but there are similarities in the things we struggle with. Here are just some things that apply to most people, but especially to brain injuries.

  • It’s hard but necessary to rely on others. It’s extremely humbling to wait for others to come and help you do simple things that you used to be able to do independently. It’s hard to admit you need help in an area, but it’s necessary for you and for others.
  • You choose when you’re recovered. Recovery is not synonymous with absence of symptoms. It’s when you mentally choose to move forward regardless of your symptoms or handicaps. “We are the only ones who can choose when we are recovered and it is only then that we are no longer waiting for our old lives to return on handsome white horses, ready to rescue us from this ridiculous nightmare.” We accept the new, emerging version of ourselves and choose to move forward.
  • Post-it notes are your friends. If have a tendency to forget things, write them on post its and stick them around. They come in so many different colors so you can make your car or room look like a rainbow. I like yellow sticky notes because they bring the sunshine inside.
  • Attitude is everything. Those who say they can’t and those who say they can are both right. If you don’t believe you can do something, then you won’t try. If you do try, then you will only give enough effort to say you tried. But, if you believe you will do it, you will put all your energy into trying to succeed. In my case, my stubbornness paid off or according to my parents, there was a use for my stubbornness.
  • Forgive. Forgive. Forgive. Forgive those people that have the audacity to succeed-to be well. Forgive the people that don’t have to deal with the weights you have been handed because they didn’t choose the cards they were handed. Forgive those people that are doing what you want to be doing. Forgive the injury for changing your life. “Regardless of how you have been wronged or hurt, choosing not to forgive this injury for doing what it does is entirely your decision. It is exhausting, frustrating and unsustainable to try and fight the natural forward current of life. It makes you smile less. It makes you a sour puss, really. At the end of life, it’s routinely one of the top regrets people have, holding on to the ugly grudges of disappointment and of hurt.” Forgive them and let go, because it only holds you back.
  • Thank the people that jumped in the hole with you. It applies to any situation you can’t control, but I’m going to talk specifically about brain injuries. I didn’t choose to fall into this hole called brain injury. My family and friends did have a choice. They could choose to leave-to not have their life shaken up. They chose to stay-to jump in the hole after me, knowing that their life would never be the same. For that, I’m eternally grateful to the people the have walked this journey with me and those who will walk with me in the future.
  • Nothing has the power to damage you, unless you let it. “Brain injury does not deteriorate as if a cancer. It does not kill us over the years. Not unless we invite it to and feed it that power.” Granted, it stops life as we know it, but we can choose to let it stop us from living. This applies to almost everything that happens to us. It changes our lives, but unless we give it the power to damage us, it doesn’t stop us from moving forward.
  • We need to fill up the holes in our lives before they fill up by themselves-because they will. Fill the holes with positive people and positive things-things that lift you up on a bad day. Put kindness into that hole-kindness to yourself and others. Be kind to yourself because you’re trying as hard as you can. Furthermore, “Identify at least one true person who remembers the best of you before your injury so you never forget that you have, time and time again, devised sound strategies which returned successful outcomes to you. Find another who understands how it feels to be brain injured now. And finally, maybe most importantly, find one shining star who will challenge you to dare big and who steadfastly believes in the person you aim to be. Let them help you fill that hole. Fill it up. Hand over hand, fill it back up.” My friends, the Fab Five, have been that for me. They have walked through this journey with me. They remind me of all I’ve accomplished and am still accomplishing. I also have a dear soul friend who pushes me to dare big, reminds me of my dreams, and pushes me closer to Jesus. I’m very thankful for her and the fact that she only knows the new me. She doesn’t have anything to compare; I’m just me, and she loves me.

The Year Of Me

The Year of Me.

This is what I titled this year. It sounds selfish, but it’s really not. It’s only been a year and a half since I almost died. By God’s grace, and only God’s grace, I’m standing here before you. I wished the process would move a whole lot faster, but like a wise friend once told me, “You almost died. You can’t except to bounce back to your same bubbly self so quickly.” It has been a year and a half. I think I should be all better. I think other people think I should be all better. They have less patience with me when I still have trouble getting my thoughts out, or when I walk slower. I guess mostly that is me transferring my impatience with the slow healing onto others.

I had ambitions before my accident that 2 years after college, I would have paid off my student loans and be getting ready to move overseas. I had it figured out that if things went as they were going, in 25 months I would be debt free and be financially able to support myself overseas. I guess God had different plans. I was living in Akron and then I had to move home. It just seemed like everything that was moving me forward closed down. And I even took a few steps back. Last year, after my accident—in the deepest part of recovery—I would never have considered going to Ukraine. There was just still a lot going on with me that I didn’t think traveling overseas as possible. God, though, kept opening doors, closing others and pushing me forward. I have no idea why but God seems to want me to go and isn’t just opening doors he’s flinging opening the doors and removing any barrier that I place in the hopes of slowing things down.

The year of me.

This year, I decided to pick one or two things and excel, rather than commit to a lot of things and not be able to follow through. I chose being a Jr. High youth group leader and being the nurse at Mansfield Christian. I think I did those well. The extra energy I did have was put into my healing—driving, swimming and managing my fatigue. I’ve seen God do some remarkable things already, and we are only halfway through 2018.

Also, in this journey, I’m striving to know Jesus more personally. John Eldredge writes, “What is missing in our Gospel reading—in our attempts to “read” what Jesus is saying and doing in own lives right now, this week—is his personality, undraped by religion”.

If you read the Gospels with an eye out for his personality, you realize that he’s playful, sassy, cunning, and fierce. You can kinda make sense of some of the things he does, because you know his personality. A couple things I have already learned in this year I’ve titled, “The Year of Me and Jesus”.

  • Jesus is creative and playful. I mean think about it. He made the wind, music and flying squirrels. How creative do you have to be to think up flying squirrels? Laughter is from God also. Think about the story of Abraham and Sarah. They were in their 90’s, and God told them to expect a child. Sarah laughed, and I’m sure Abraham joined in because it seemed impossible. They were old enough to be great-grandparents but God had a different plan for them. In the same way, Jesus was playful and loved laughter. In John 21, after he was buried, his disciples were fishing for hours and they caught nothing. Jesus sauntered out of the tomb and eventually onto the beach. He called out to them and suggested that they try to other side. They did, and the nets were teeming with fish. Jesus rose from the dead. He could have shouted, “It is me. I’m alive”, but instead he stands on the shoreline, hands in his pockets and asks, “Catch anything?” The story is made richer when you see the playfulness of Jesus.
  • Jesus is necessary for existence. “We need Jesus like we need oxygen. Like we need water. Like the branch needs the vine. Jesus is not merely a figure for devotions. He is the missing essence of your existence. Whether we know it or not, we are desperate for Jesus….To have Jesus, really have him, is to have the greatest treasure in all worlds. To have His life, joy, love, and presence cannot be compared. A true knowledge of Jesus is our greatest need and our greatest happiness.” John Eldredge. Some days, I can’t get through the day without Jesus’ help. I won’t say I’m glad for my accident because my life won’t ever be the same as much as I wish for it, but I am thankful for this season because it brought forth a dependence on Jesus that I never had and probably wouldn’t have had if not for my accident.

We are about half way through 2018, and I’m already blown away by the doors God has opened and the adventures he will take me on. In the next half of the year, I’m praying to become closer to God and understand more of his personality. I continue to pray that God uses my story and continues to change my heart as I’m impacted by the wonderful people of Ukraine.

Accepting the New Me

Isn’t it crazy how after a mission trip or something like that, we are no longer the same person we were, but we embrace that change. After something traumatic, we change, but we push against it. We want the “old us” back.

Why is that?

I think it’s because in one situation we put ourselves in a situation where change is an option. We don’t consciously choose to change, but we know change is a possibility. We see things and are impacted by people where there’s no turning back. There’s no chance to unlearn the things we have been through.

In the other, we have no control.

Zero. Zilch.

This change in our personality is forced upon us. In my case, I never saw it coming. I’m a different person, but I’m still Sara. If that sounds confusing, it’s because I haven’t really quite figured it out myself yet. My TBI changed me, not only because of the trauma of it, but because it changed the actual chemistry of my brain. I didn’t have a choice to not change. I’m still trying to tread the the line of trying hard to be the old me, or give up completely.

I have a choice—I can choose to fight against the change or I can choose to accept the new me. I’m still struggling with actually accepting the new me. It’s not easy to encounter things I used to be able to do, but now can’t. I’m still trying to figure out how to balance trying to be as close to 100% as I can, but also embrace the new me. This new person who gets overwhelmed easily—that can’t handle loud noises or flashing lights.

There may be things that I can’t do as well as I could, but there are also things that I can do better now. I’m still working on figuring those out. For now, I’m going to try not to fight against the changes. I’m going to embrace the new me.

One thing I do know is that I’ve never been more sure of God’s love for me.

There are days where His love is the only thing that gets me through the day.

There are moments where I hold on to the phase by Lysa TerKeurst: God is good. God is good to me. God is good at being God.

There are moments when I get frustrated with myself and my limitations, but God chooses those moments to show me that I’m more loved than I would ever know.

Waiting

Waiting.

This simple word causes many people to wince because it is associated with hard times. It is often associated with moments of disappointment or things that we want but can’t have yet.

Waiting.

There is an art of living life fully while trusting that God has a plan for you. Patience is not a virtue that I possess in any capacity. I do not like to wait for things in life, especially when I know that it is something good and worthwhile.

Remember when you were a child, waiting for Christmas day. Remember the expectations and excitement as you lay in bed thinking about the presents under the tree.

The shapes.

The noises.

The surprises.

Remember how you jumped out of bed and ran downstairs on Christmas morning because the awaited time had come.

That feeling is one of the most exciting and frustrating feelings to have.

Expectations.

Excitement.

Waiting.

Waiting for God, the Creator who breathed stars into existence, to reveal aspects of his magnificent plan.

Waiting for that next right step to take in a situation that is sticky and messy.

Waiting for that wonderful man to ride in on his white horse, or possibly a turtle, depending on how long he takes.

Waiting for those dreams, those deep, heartfelt passions, to begin to unfold in a beautiful and holy way.

As a result of this waiting, we spend a lot of time praying to God because we desire to live life completely and utterly in His will.

I was recently challenged to use this time of waiting to prepare. The first thought I had was, “Prepare for what?” I have no idea what I am supposed to be doing with this time, so how am I supposed to be prepared.

Sometimes, it feels like I am blindly preparing for a future that could go in any direction. How can I be prepared for every possible situations? What can I do in my season of waiting to keep myself from going incredibly crazy balancing the excitement of knowing?

Waiting does not mean that I am useless or stuck, it simply means that I am waiting. I can still move to further God’s kingdom in the moment. Sarah Bessey writes, “It’s a scary thing, a life-changing, paradigm-shifting thing, to honestly ask yourself this question: Am I moving with God to rescue, restore, and redeem humanity? Or am I clinging fast, eyes closed, teeth clenched, to an imperfect world’s habits and cultural customs, in full knowledge of injustice or imperfections, living at odds with God’s dream for his daughters and sons?”

Sometimes, I get so caught up in the frustration of hearing “Wait” from God that I forget to act. I forget to continue to play my part in the story God is writing for humanity. I am a small blip on in the story, but, as I wait, I should not forget where I am.

As I wait for my brain to heal, there are things I need to be doing to help make that happen. In the same way, as I wait for God to move in my life, I need to be continually seeking His will, and loving others as God loves me. Sometimes, I need to take that leap and take steps toward where God is leading as I wait for Him to reveal Himself step by step.

As I continue to wait on God, I desire to use this time to grow into the woman He is molding me into.

When Being Brave Means Letting Go.

I chose to be audacious this year.

I determined to be recklessly brave even in the little things.

Brave. Courageous. Audacious.

The year of brave, my friend and I called it.

Only eleven months into my journey of being brave, and it has been such a wild ride. I have learned to step out of my comfort zone, when the necessary action terrifies me. I knew it was not going to be easy, but I was not prepared for how scared or lonely I would be at times. I experienced the beauty in being vulnerable with someone and allowing myself to love him. I wrestled with the heartbreak that comes when that relationship ends, even if it is the best thing for both parties. I started a new job-one that pushed me out of my comfort zone.  I discovered a love for the city that I moved to as I chose to stay and invest in my community. Bravely, I strived to reclaim my dreams that I unintentionally put aside.

This year of being brave challenged me, even scared, me, but naively, I believed I would still hold some control over my life and the changes that were about to occur.

 Silly me, I had no control.

The past couple of months have been stock full of good and hard changes, but my head could not wrap its head around the fact that life would be vastly different.

The array of emotions that flooded into the life I started to make in Akron surprised me-the celebration of being established in an apartment, starting a new job, settling into new friendships, and relinquishing claims on old relationships.

To fully settle into my life during the transition, I needed to let go of a lot of things. I let go of a certain person as the relationship ended. Letting go of someone hurts even if it is the right thing to do. That person, who was once a major part of my life, was suddenly a stranger with history behind us.  Things would never be exactly the same. Letting go is extremely hard and the heart grieves what was lost, but it is a necessary part of moving on. Letting go of people, places, emotions, life stages-it is all hard and takes quite a bit of bravery.

I let go of a stage of life I would never return to. I would never again be a traditional college student. Losing that immediate community where I was known, loved, and cared for startled me. I needed to grieve the loss of that stage of life-of that community- as I step into the next one. As I take brave steps to build a new community, to be known by strangers and to be loved by my church.

I am not a novice at letting go-at transitions of life. My whole life has been a series of changes, and I have had a lot of practice saying goodbye to people and moving on. The practice does not make each new encounter easier. I may be good at change, but I still do not like it. Whenever the possibility of change or transition appears, I get nervous–scared-palms-sweaty, heart-racing, butterflies-my-stomach nervous–because the possibility of getting hurt terrified me. I want to run from the change and hold on to the stability that comes with the things that I know.

The leaves change colors and seasons changes which reminds me that there is beauty in letting the dead things go. Just as the trees let go of the old leaves so that new growth can occur, letting go of something leaves my hands wide open to welcome new things.  Every day, I learn to allow the space between where I want to be and where I am to inspire me and not terrify me. Moving forward into this new season, I am brave and choose to do things that make me happy-the things that give me life in the midst of chaos. I am discovering the things that make me—Sara Beth. I am rediscovering the things that remind me of the necessity of learning how to stay put and invest in the community rather than running from the transitions.

Freedom shows up in being able to let go of the emotions and feelings that have been weighing heavily on my heart over the past couple months as thing after thing in my life changed.

Joy presents itself as I reclaim my wildness-rediscovering the passions and desires that God has placed in my heart.

Bravery exists as I lay the messy emotions and transitions at the feet of a loving God who gathers me into his lap whispering “I love you” in my ear.