Jake the Cat...and the start of his 9th life!

It all started when Jake started peeing all over the apartment. We figured he was just marking his territory - Jake is primarily an outdoor cat, and we had kept him inside since moving a month before. He continued to pee on things and we were getting pretty pissed at him. We started introducing him to the outdoors, and the day he peed on the couch was the day that we first kicked him out for an overnight stay.

The next evening, we let him back in, figuring he'd learned his lesson...and that's when I noticed how weird he was acting. He cried at me when I picked him up, and I thought he was scared from being outside for the first long period of time. Then I set him down and saw him accidentally 'sprinkle'! I then took him straight to the litter box and chucked him in there so he could go in the appropriate place. I watched him for nearly 5 min - he was trying and trying to go and couldn't!

He gave up and went to the living room to lie down. I went to feel his belly to see if there was swelling of any kind, and realized he was in pain. That's when I noticed him licking a spot on his arm; upon closer investigation, I realized he was smoothing the fur over a huge gash in his arm!

At this point I began calling emergency vets, panicked. No one would answer, so the best we could do was rush him to our regular vet at 7am the next morning.

Initially, we were told he just needed some antibiotics, and the wound closed up. After they sedated him to stitch up his injury (which we still have no idea how he got!), they felt his bladder and realized that he was completely unable to go to the bathroom on his own.

Over the course of the next 5 days, Jake was hooked up to an IV to flush out his system (see the awesome missing patch of fur on his paw where they hooked it in), and had a catheter inserted so that he could go to the bathroom. I've never seen a cat look so pathetic. After blood work and urinalysis, the vet determined that Jake had developed blockage in his bladder which prevented him from using the bathroom. Sparing the gross details (I could barely stand it without vomiting the first time, I have no desire to reminisce)...this is a very serious condition for a cat. Left untreated, he would have died shortly.

Jake was quite the handful at the vet, even in the critical condition he was in. They made him wear one of those plastic cones on his head to prevent him from gnawing at his stitches, the IV, and the catheter. They said it is normal for a cat to get that cone off perhaps once...Jake had it off every single morning! In addition, he managed to pull out his own catheter, undo his own stitches (which they then replaced with STAPLES just in case) and figured out how to open the kennel doors. They had to put a lock on his cage door to keep him in!!!

He is home now, and enjoying the luxuries of sleeping on the couch and eating the yummy special diet the vet sent him home with. We expect he will make a full recovery, but imagine that this is the start of his 9th and final life...Let's hope it lasts a long time.

We're Engaged!

After over 2 years of a very blessed dating relationship, Jonathan and I are now officially engaged! :)

As a preface to "The Story", I've actually known for quite some time that this moment was coming, and frankly was growing anxious about why it had not occurred yet. That's just "me being a girl" for you! We picked out the ring in late January, and I knew it was ready for pickup at the store in mid-July...but July came and went, and the days and weeks kept creeping on. Jonathan assured me that he simply hadn't asked yet because he had some grandiose plan that had 'certain time constraints' which he could not explain without giving it away.

We experienced a bit of financial setback, and I began to wonder if perhaps he hadn't asked yet because of money, or because of his job...and eventually I began to just wonder "oh no! What if he's just not ready??? Am I pushing him???". In reality, Jonathan's big grandiose plan had actually fallen through, and the poor guy was just as ready to get engaged as I was, but was uncertain he could come up with a romantic Plan B for the proposal.

The Story:

Monday night, I went to my first grad school class (which was awesome, btw) and left feeling quite elated. I headed over to our church young couples fellowship group directly afterward, which happens to be hosted by the family that Jonathan is staying with temporarily. After Couples Group, I stayed to spend some time with him.

We played Guitar Hero for a bit (yes, my engagement shall forever be associated with Guitar Hero, ha ha) and then he could tell something was weighing on my mind. He eventually pried out my nervous thoughts concerning questions over why he had not proposed yet. He then paused and said "Well, maybe this will help....Close your eyes."

I closed my eyes and heard him rummaging around--at this point, I figured he was going to let me 'visit' my ring (which I have affectionately dubbed "My Sparkly") in an effort to tide over my pent up emotions for another few weeks until he actually went through with his big proposal plan.

Instead, he sat back down beside me and said "Imagine that I..." and proceeded to walk me through his original grandiose proposal plan, helping me to see each detail bit by bit. At the end of the story he said "now imagine that I get down on one knee, and ask you...". After his story was finished, he said regretfully that it cannot happen that way anymore (another long story, but let's just say there was a major component of the plan that recently became an impossibility). He then asked me to open my eyes. When I did, he opened the ring box and asked me for REAL. He said "Sarah, will you be my Queen?" which is special, because my name means Princess and he calls me that all the time :)

It took me a minute or two to catch on that he was actually asking, not just telling the story anymore, but then he said "I just couldn't wait any longer to ask you. I don't want to wait any more." and I was relieved, because I didn't want to wait any longer either! It was killing me! I said yes, and I will never, ever forget the precious look of joy and raw emotion on my future husband's face when he realized that, in his words "you are finally mine".

After the proposal, we left the house and drove into Percy Warner Park, which is a huge park with lots of hiking trails and a scenic drive. Jonathan took me up to a beautiful overlook of the foothills and the perfectly clear, starry night sky. As we were standing outside enjoying the moment, I saw the biggest shooting star I have ever seen in my life! It went all the way from one end of the sky to the other, and lasted for several seconds. It was amazing, and a perfect ending to our night.

So, there you have it--We're engaged!

He showed up to my workplace the next morning with a beautiful vase of roses, which was very sweet and thoughtful :) I really do feel like a princess--he's my hero!

Precious Daughter of the King

As far as my spiritual life goes, this year has been mostly about trying to reconnect with the truth of who God is. I have spent many days pondering His existence, His love, and the reality of His power in my life. I have not at all times been convinced of each of these things; my sinful nature unfortunately creates this insatiable need to be in control of my own life and thereby ignore God. I have really lost the ability to see Him very much, other than experiencing an intense connection with Him when singing praise and worship songs in church.

Two Sundays ago, I was reminded of His power.

For the first time in a few months (since beginning my hostess job), I was able to go to church. Jonathan had to work that day, so I came alone and sat on the aisle next to dear friends from our church young couples group. I was so relieved and at peace to finally be able to be at church, where I knew God would speak to me in ways He does not when I am home on my couch.

During the first few moments of the service, our pastor, Randy, began to talk about a man named Barnabas in the Bible. Baranabas, he said, means "Son of Encouragement." My mind began to wander, as it often does when provoked with good thoughts, and I wondered how many people out there actually live up to what their name means. I pondered my own name, Sarah, which is translated from the Hebrew word for "princess". I'm definitely not royalty of any kind, and I wouldn't be caught dead in one of those pretentious looking tiaras even on my wedding day....but I am the daughter of a king. I'm the daughter of the King, in fact. Probably not why my mother gave me that name, but I still managed to live up to its meaning when I chose to follow Christ.

Service continued. During the first prayer, a few moments were offered during which we prayed for our own individual needs. I remember consciously ignoring my desire to pray for a supernatural experience or for divine knowledge and instead simply asking God to teach me who He is. It was communion Sunday, which is my favorite because we spend so much time singing and reflecting. For me, there is no better way to connect with God in an emotional way. After making my way to the front of the room for communion, I knelt on the cushy kneeler and sang a few more lines before motioning to recieve the bread and wine.

My sin is all I have to give
I lay it at your feet and find I live

Randy (our pastor) happened to be the person serving communion at the spot I knelt at. He approached me when I gave a slight nod, and offered me the bread and wine with these words:

"A new name he has given you: Precious Daughter of the King."

And then I cried. I cried because I suddenly knew that God had heard me...He had listened, and answered a question I had forgotten that I had asked. He showed me not only who He is - a God who hears - but who I am as well.

A Presence of Thieves

There are ghosts from my past who've owned more of my soul
Than I thought I had given away
They linger in closets and under my bed
And in pictures less proudly displayed
A great fool in my life I have been
I have squandered till pallid and thin
Hung my head in shame and refused to take blame
For the darkness I know I've let win

--Jennifer Knapp "Martyrs and Thieves"

For just over 2 years now I have been at the mercy not of the good Lord but of self-hatred, toxic shame, and immense guilt, all resulting in drastic unbelief and an unraveling of the foundations of my very faith.

As a "newer" Christian, I suppose it makes sense that after spending my first three years of belief in a Christian Bubble (ACU), I would question my faith in its entirety after leaving. Upon my arrival in Nashville, I realized that didn't know what was real or what I had just picked up along the way; and, as my own sinfulness grew, those initial seeds of doubt were nurtured until they had grown into a tangled web of vines which I now find myself entrapped by.

I currently feel as though I have so many things wrong with me that there is no way to even begin to sort out the mess that I have become after 24 years practicing the art of royally screwing up.

I have allowed my life to be ruled by my own inadequacies, insecurities, inferiorities, and, above all, shame. I have been consumed by the need for a man, unbelief in anyone's ability to ever understand me, and a feeling of complete and utter unworthiness of love. I have let fear and distrust resulting from my childhood and adolescence mock me from the shadows of my present life. I have crushed my heart under the weight of guilt over the way things ended with my first love. I have hoisted walls around my heart in a futile effort to avoid being wounded, betrayed, and damaged by the failed promises of love and faithfulness of yet another man. I have traded pieces of my personality, beliefs, image, and lifestyle to avoid experiencing rejection of my true self by those I have unhealthily and desperately clung to. Worst of all, I have denied my God and forgotten how to believe in the One who gives me my very breath.

Like Elijah, I am standing on a mountain in the unavoidable presence of the Lord. There has been great and powerful wind tearing my mountain apart, shattering the rocks of my foundation, and the Lord has not been in the wind. There have been earthquakes and fires wreaking havoc on this mountain I stand upon, and the Lord has not been in the earthquakes and fires. Rather, He is in the faint and gentle whisper that I hear now that my mountain has crumbled to pieces, leaving a cloud of dust through which I hear:

"What are you doing here, Sarah? Come home."

Cliche, I know.

To be completely honest, I haven't spoken to God in months. I have become so frustrated and wrapped up in my own life that I can no longer just let go of my own ideas and turn to God for help. Stupid, right? I guess when it comes down to it, I'm what you would call a doubter. In spite of the passion I have for God in times of complete faith, I tend to slide in and out of believing that any of it is real, or that any of it means anything to my life; and, since I don't want to just go through the motions of faith, I stop altogether.

And now, after a year of ignoring God, I am: a) too scared to give up control, and b) not really sure I believe it would make a difference if I did.

I used to walk out my door and see skies and grass and (in those glorious times when I happen to be vacationing in higher altitudes) mountains and know that God made it all. I could SEE Him in it all, FEEL Him in it all. Now when I walk out my door, all I see is my dinged up car that takes me to work and class and Jonathan's apartment, and the mailbox where I'm expecting my next check to arrive, and the concrete slab of pavement that takes me to both. I've forgotten what it feels like to taste and see that the Lord is good. Well, not 'good'. More like 'real', 'ever-present' and 'mighty'.

I am empty, and sad, and longing so much just to be back in that place where I ask God what HIS plan is for me...but I'm too afraid of having to give up my own plans. Cliche, I know, but I always say that there is a reason things become cliche--they are things that people experience over and over and over again.

So, for those of you who have already been stuck in this cliche a few times....where am I, and how do I get out?

"You Don't Have to Fake a Smile for Me"

To Jonathan, with love:

Lights out, you are alone, unobserved
You choose something that I would not
Now that I have you
And you say that this just isn’t about me
But you don’t think you’re ready to give up the extra sideshow
Well, I don’t know if I’m okay with that.

You’re just a man—I understand you can’t be perfect.
And when we're through it all, it will be worth it in the end,
Because I still want you to hold me,
Even though it’s you who hurt me,
So I can hear you say:
“You don’t have to fake a smile for me.”

Maybe I should have seen this sooner
Or connected the dots before
But you say that you didn’t mean to do this to me
That it’s just something that is different for the guys
Well, I don’t know if I’m so sure of that

You’re just a man—I understand you can’t be perfect.
And when we're through it all, it will be worth it in the end,
Because I still want you to hold me,
Even though it’s you who hurt me,
So I can hear you say:
“You don’t have to fake a smile for me.”

There will be surprises (though hopefully not like this)
And they may make us wonder what else we might have missed,

But you won't have to fake a smile for me.
You don't have to fake a smile for me.

Again and Again

There was a small period of time during which I fully trusted God. I remember the essence of those two short months--sweet peace, slight nervousness, deep breaths, and high hopes. I had just moved to Nashville, and I had nothing to distract me. No roots, no history, and barely a social life. God was my Source of truth, and especially my Source of guidance. With nothing and no one else to affect my decisions in life, He had full control over His child...and I learned what it felt like to not have to worry, for two short months.

I guess that makes me understand a little better why some people choose to live their lives out in complete solitude, all monk-ed out in robes and silence. It's so easy--and so richly fulfilling--to be alone with God. You can ask the questions and actually hear the answers, instead of a thousand voices in your mind that each want to please a different part of your busy life. Oh, the voice of God! I've forgotten what that sounds like! Even now, struggling to remember the taste of it all, I know that giving all control to Him tasted better than anything I could plan for myself.

And yet.

I sit here on my bed, fingers and toes freezing (which is completely off the point), trying to figure out the loopholes in that inescapable Call of God.

"Trust in Me and do good; delight yourself in Me and I will give you the desires of your heart. Commit your way to Me; trust in Me and I will do this."

You want me to WHAT? Trust You?? Suddenly, with all the voices competing for my attention in my life, trusting God is not so easy. Neither is giving up the things that are muffling His voice. See, I think I try hard--very hard--not to listen to God when I know I am choosing to follow my own way. I know His way is better. I know His way could never harm me. But, I doubt highly that His way results in my happy ending. Oh, it ends in "a" happy ending--just not the one I've been meticulously planning throughout all of my purposeful sin.

Every time I choose to be what I want to be, I somehow manage to forget that I am not the only one who knows and is capable of fulfilling the deepest desires of my heart. My sin is simply a representation of the fact that 9 days out of 10, I just don't believe enough in the power of the God I love. I've convinced myself that only I can fulfill my wildest dreams, that I am in charge. As a result, I'm afraid to speak to the God whose only wish is for me to come to Him.

Does this sound familiar? I think it happens to all of us, and the only cure is Surrender.

I have to decide if I'm willing to do that. Again. And again. And again....and again......