dum dum dum dumby doo wah

I’m feeling lonely tonight.

I spent the last eight hours driving from Salt Lake City, through southern Wyoming, down into Colorado for a conference.  The barren landscape, the cloud-covered sky, the desolate roads….  I was all alone.  And now I sit in my dorm room of the YMCA…also alone.  (Roommates will join me tonight, though.)

Like most things in my life, this “loneliness” can hardly be considered true pain.  Just as when I’m hungry—it’s never like the hunger other people feel.  I think of a friend of mine who knows far worse loneliness, probably every day.  And hunger both literally and figuratively.

Just as any head-cold or stomach-flu I experience isn’t really pain…just a small glimpse of it.  I don’t know how good I have it.

Would I be willing to take on more pain (less convenience, less comfort) if it meant relating to the lonely, hungry people of this world?  What could I truly handle, if this petty little road trip was enough to sadden me with loneliness?

Do I know what I’m in for?

to infinity…and beyond

I want to go to another country to serve as a Peace Corps Volunteer.  I want to be stripped of everything except God.  As I think about a new phase in my life, I feel excited, like I’ve been in a romantic relationship with Someone and now we’re about to be married and share love on an even deeper level.  I want to go somewhere with God.

But I must remember that I can get closer to God right where I am, wherever I am, whenever, all the time.  I didn’t have to become a United Methodist missionary and move across the country to get closer to God—but that’s what happened.  I don’t have to live abroad  for 27 months to get closer to God—but that’s what will happen.

(Maybe.)

I want to live my life with no regrets.  “Oh, Scarlett, you are so young it breaks my heart.”  I know other people look at me and wish they could do what I’m doing.  I almost feel humbled by that, like I’m entrusted with the longing and looking-back they feel.  I’m entrusted not to mess it up, not to waste the miracle of being 23 and having your whole life ahead of you.  I know when I’m older, I don’t want to be looking at someone who’s in their 20s, thinking, “Man I wish I could go back to that age—I’d do everything differently.”  I want to make all those adventurous, once-in-a-lifetime decisions NOW.  I don’t want to look back with regret.

Everything is so much easier said than done.  How romantic and idealistic will I feel when I’m doubled over with stomach pain, when I can’t figure out what the eff to cook, when people look at me with blank stares because I don’t know how to communicate with them, when I lie alone at night and miss my family?

I know it will be hard.

So is anything that is worth doing.

I can’t wait to see the stars from there.

/The Idiot/

Last night I stayed up late to finish reading Fyodor Dostoevsky’s The Idiot. I had picked the book up last month, since it came highly recommended, and because the cover flap said the protagonist was based on the image of Christ.  I’m really glad I finished it, though sometimes it was slow going.  I have never had a long attention span when it comes to classics—life is too short to read boring books.  But this book was worth getting through the dry spells.  There’s some great characterization in it, proving the talent Dostoevsky has as a writer.  Moreover, the climactic scene was perfect.

Some random quotations from the book, which I underlined:

But a certain dullness of mind seems an almost necessary qualification, if not for every public man, at least for everyone seriously engaged in making money.

But if you have a wart on the forehead or on the nose, you always imagine that no one has anything else to do in the world than stare at your wart, make fun of it, and despise you for it, even though you have discovered America.

Oh, you often meet among us Liberals who are applauded by the rest and who are perhaps the most absurd, the most stupid and dangerous of Conservatives, and they are unaware of it themselves.

In moments of intense joy he always grew sad, he could not himself have said why.

[E]veryone else thinks too little of life and is apt to waste it too cheaply, and to use it too lazily, too shamelessly, that they’re none, not one of them, worthy of it.

We degrade God too much, ascribing to Him our ideas, in vexation at being unable to understand Him.  But, again, if it’s impossible to understand Him, I repeat it’s hard to have to answer for what it is not given to man to understand.  And, if it is so, how shall I be judged for being unable to understand the will and laws of Providence?  No, we’d better leave religion on one side.

Heeling for Haiti

On Thursday, I learned that a couple men I know through the United Methodist Church were trapped in the ruins of the Hotel Montana, after the earthquake hit Haiti a week ago.  I thought surely they were dead.  Miraculously, after 55 hours, they were rescued alive.  The man I knew best, Clint Rabb, had to have both legs amputated to be freed from where the concrete was pinning him down.  A video of him just prior to his rescue can be found here.

The other man I knew, Jim Gulley, escaped with only minor injuries.  He later told reporters of what he and the other survivors talked about—and sang about—to stay sane during those two days trapped in the rubble.  They sang the Doxology as their rescuers freed them.  The article can be found here.

Clint spent two days in a Florida hospital, and his wife met him there.  His wife, Rev. Suzanne Field-Rabb, was a supervisor to my missionary class for a year.  We lived with her for four weeks and got to know her well.  Clint taught a class during our training, and I remember hanging out with Suzanne at the refreshments table, asking how she and Clint met and started dating.  She spoke of him with tender affection, and even struck me as “infatuated” despite years of marriage.  During the aftermath of the earthquake, Clint told a reporter, “Tell my wife I deeply love her and we’re going to survive this.  And I’m praying for all those who didn’t survive.”

Clint passed away on Sunday.

On March 13, I will run my first race ever, a 5k, in memory of Clint and in honor of Suzanne.  As I prepare for the race, I’m collecting donations for Haiti relief.  A group of us are doing this, calling it Heeling for Haiti.  We are asking people to run a race—any race, in any area of the country—and collect donations as they train.  If people can’t train for a race, they can simply donate, or simply pray for those affected by the Haiti tragedy.

Let me know if you’d like to run a race and would appreciate more resources on how to collect donations.  Let me know if you’d like to offer financial support.

This past week has been a swirl of emotions and questions as I contemplate what happened in Haiti, what’s happening elsewhere in the world, what’s happening with God, and what’s happening with we fragile humans here on earth.  My prayer is that I can respond with love even when I question, even when I hurt or feel angry about what happened.  I’ve been listening to a song a lot lately, which says, “Love will overcome.  Love will overcome…it’s true.”  Sometimes that’s hard to believe…but I do.

highlights of 2010 so far

This month has already been packed full of ooey gooey goodness.

UPDATE 1:

Last weekend I hung out with Pamela, the daughter of my gal pal Tiffini, and we saw Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs.  It was HILARIOUS.  Please, everyone, I command you to watch this movie.  It was hysterical.  Mr. T is in it, for one thing.  I don’t care what age you are, you’ll love it.

Here are Pamela and Kitty and me:

Kitty is not amused.

I dogsit for their family’s dogs occasionally, and here are the pretty pups:

Sally (left) and Jack (right). Jack's fur is as soft and shiny as silk! Jack eats Kitty's poop.

UPDATE 2:

Last week I started learning a piece for my May/June piano recitals: Brahms’ Rhapsody in G Minor (Op. 79 No. 2).  It is full of fire and fury.  I am having a blast getting into it and even trying to memorize it.  You can listen to a recording of it here.

UPDATE 3:

I am guest-preaching at four United Methodist churches in the area throughout January and February.  This is always a fun task for me.  My best friend dreamt that Paul Newman gave me public speaking advice.  I’ll take it!  (What’s really weird is that Paul’s critique of me was exactly what I was thinking after I preached last Sunday…that I rehearse too much.  The Lord works in mysterious ways.)

UPDATE 4:

For Christmas I was blessed to receive my very own guitar!  I named her Baby.  I have been practicing daily, attempting (however feebly) to play some Ingrid Michaelson, Wailin’ Jennys, Alison Krauss, Jason Mraz, Priscilla Ahn, Sara Bareilles, and BarlowGirl.  I have had multiple moments where music has just clicked recently—both on guitar and on piano—and that is a rare and beautiful feeling.

UPDATE 5:

I continue being surprised and humbled by the amazing people God brings into my life.  It seems I get to know someone new each week, and I love this sense of always-learning.  I could say more about it, but words don’t do the experience justice.  I’m just grateful the new year is so full already.

manly time

My dad, oldest brother, and I spent the last two days hiking outside and camping overnight.  We made it to Skyline Summit today, which Dave says means we gained about 3,000 feet in elevation.  The one mile from start to saddle was 1,800 feet elevation gain, and that would be super-steep enough on any day, let alone when the trail is covered in ice and snow.  Other challenging features of this hike include the mere six hours of daylight to work with, the 25-degree weather, the necessity of carrying backpacks full of gear, and the threat of coyotes, who, according to my dad, are attracted to “girls going to the bathroom outside and especially to toilet paper.”

I can’t say this fire provided much heat…but it looked nice and smelled nice.

Sunrise. We awaken after 14 hours in our tents.

Denali, the highest mountain on this continent, is visible in the background on the right. (The peach mountain -- can you see it?) David is fond of saying, "Alaska has the 13 highest peaks on the continent...and the 15th."

Getting such a clear shot of Denali (also called Mt. McKinley) is very rare.  This is like the sixth time Dave has reached Skyline Summit, and it’s the only time he’s seen Denali.  As we were climbing up, he made a deal with me: “Okay, Sarah—if we see Denali, you have to climb it with me.”
“Okay, okay.  …Wait…maybe we should shake on it?”

He keeps trying to convince me we should climb it together.  (Once we train, of course, and scrounge up $6,000 apiece.)  But he has been urging me to join him for the past few months.  Apparently this was our sign that it’s meant to be.  Rats.

Two summit shots:

David and me

Dad and me

I was very frightened of the heights/risks I felt this hike involved.  There were several times where I wanted to give up far before reaching the summit.  I know Dad and Dave wouldn’t put me in danger, but I still felt paralyzed with fear at times.  My knees weaken, I freeze up, and I don’t want to press on.  Considering what a pansy hike this would be compared to Denali…I highly doubt I’ll ever attempt it.

To sleep in the cold, I had three pairs of pants, two long-sleeve tops, two jackets, a hat, a pair of gloves (sometimes two), a pair of socks (sometimes two…but if I only wore one, it was with adhesive toe warmers), a sleeping bag, and a fleece blanket.  I often slept with everything pulled over my head.

Some simple pleasures from the trip…drinking hot tea out of a thermos, brushing my teeth with snow, and laughing with the boys.

girly time

My mama and I made a purse together Monday.  I did almost all of the sewing, though!  I want to make a couple more, if I can, before the visit is over.

These purses are made with “charms,” small squares of fabric.  16, to be precise.

After sewing all day, we completed the project and celebrated by painting our nails.

Christmas bike ride

Yesterday David and I rode 12 miles, down to the end of Homer Spit and back.  Some of the trail was icy/muddy, but for the most part it was smooth sailing.  It helped to have thick mountain-bike tires to grip the road better.  There was a gradual, long hill leading back up to our house.  It burrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrned.  I thought I was gonna pass out, but by golly I kept pedaling and didn’t stop till we got home.  It was a huge rush of triumph afterward.  David does this ride almost daily, so he didn’t really view it as much of an accomplishment.  He says, “I don’t really consider it a workout.  It’s just a supplement to my workouts.”

I for one was ready for bed at 5:30 p.m.

a Christmas miracle

Something extraordinary happened to me today.

A few weeks ago, I got out the only Christmas decoration I have in Salt Lake, an heirloom made by my grandmother and cherished by me since I was a little girl.  (I even posted about it last year at this time.)  It has always been a special way to count down to Christmas.  While I was hanging it up, though, I suddenly thought of this three-year-old boy I know, the son of one of my coworkers.  I thought, “I bet Oliver would like this.  I should give this to Oliver.”  I dunno, maybe it was because of the Mother Teresa book I was reading at the time—she was real big on giving.  Just for some reason I felt compelled to give it away.  I also felt sad, though, at the thought of sacrificing my beloved banner.  But I thought, “Why did Oliver come into my head right now, of all the random times?”  I wondered if God could be asking me to give, as giving is better than receiving.  Besides, I figured when I die I can’t take any possessions with me—and that includes “A Beary Merry Christmas.”  I reasoned I could always make a similar kind of Christmas countdown with my own children someday.

So I brought the banner in and gave it to my coworker to give to Oliver.  He assured me I could ask for it back anytime I wanted, as my grandmother had made it and it was obviously special.  But as soon as I gave it away I didn’t regret it.  The experience was so much better than keeping it!  The next time Oliver was in the office, we talked about the bear.  In fact, Oliver already was reading an Advent book about a bear that visits Jesus in Bethlehem.  The bear was Benjamin Bear.  So now, the countdown calendar I gave him, with the bear who moves around, was Benjamin Bear!  It was perfect.

I did think of the countdown this morning, knowing Oliver finally got to move the bear to the living room where he finally finds Christmas.  That was always a fun tradition on Christmas Eve.

I vowed never to tell my parents I gave away the banner.  (I mean, I think it was mine to give away.)

Today I got to my parents’ house (after three flights) in Alaska and started catching up with the folks.  After awhile, Mom said, “Sarah, look over here.”  I peered around the Christmas tree to see…the Beary Merry Christmas banner hanging on the wall.

I’m sure my face went white.  “Where did you get that?”

She had found the fabric panel in a THRIFT STORE in, of all places, Homer, Alaska.  It was true—there was the bear, “Benjamin” Bear, stuck on the velcro strip for the living room because it’s December 24.  I couldn’t believe it.

I confessed to them that I’d given away the first one.  I told them the whole story.  It was hard for me to wrap my mind around what had happened…the giving, the joy of giving, and suddenly receiving again.

All of this may sound completely silly to you, or perhaps completely unrelated to God, but I am just in awe.

Merry Christmas, everyone.

bearing good fruit

Thanks to the wisdom of my fellow missionary greg, I have incorporated daily fruit smoothies into my diet.  For the past month I have had a smoothie to accompany my breakfast of Cheerios, and it increases my general merriment.

I would love to share these delightful concoctions with you, in case you could use some extra nutrients and a beverage that has a kick.  There are an infinite number of ways to experiment (do you use fruit juice? milk? yogurt? all three?), especially with which fruits you toss in and how many kinds at once.  I think a standard for me is five fruits and a veggie.  (A veggie?!)  Yes, greg taught me that you can throw in a bit of spinach or kale, and you won’t even taste it.  Thus you get the nutrients while still only tasting sweet fruity goodness.  (We even experimented with baby carrots in an apple-based smoothie, and it was actually good!  But use sparingly.)

Tonight I had a pretty random smoothie.  It was tangy and tart and great!:

• a scoop of lime
• two handfuls frozen red grapes
• five blackberries
• 1/3 frozen banana
• a couple kale leaves
• orange juice

However, don’t let such a weird recipe scare you.  A typical smoothie for me looks like this:

• 1/2 frozen banana
• 3 strawberries
• handful raspberries
• 1 clementine
• a slice of kiwi
• spinach leaves
• fruit juice—often a Dole trio such as orange-strawberry-pineapple juice

It is fun to get creative in the morning, wondering what new brew you’ll come up with next.  I encourage everyone to try a daily smoothie for at least a week, mixing it up (no pun intended) each day.

Things I have learned:

1. you peel the banana and rip it in two before sticking it in the freezer
2. when including a slice of lime, don’t leave the skin on
3. although peanut butter, apples, granola, yogurt, and honey sound like a good combination outside a blender, when you cream them into one consistency it’s just gross
4. the frozen fruit needs to thaw a bit, so put it all in the blender, go take your shower, then come back and start blending
5. only use a bit of kiwi, as it tends to overpower other fruit tastes
6. use a spatula to make sure you don’t waste any smoothie that clings to the side of the blender
7. the more fruit you can have ready from the freezer or fridge, the better—smoothies are best served ice cold
8. using applesauce with cinnamon provides a nice kick and consistency (but you might still use fruit juice, too)

In closing, as a further celebration of fruit, here is a picture I took in my yard tonight: