30DOT: Day 1

November 1, 2015

A Person.

To choose one person to be thankful for is akin to choosing one note on a piano. It exists together. Still, today, the prompt asks me to be thankful for one person, so I will.

Yesterday, as I was wrapping up at my Saturday coffee habit, my brother texted and asked if I could facetime with the kids. I did, and it was wonderful. But as I got in the car to leave, I saw another text from Joel. It read:

James wants to say love you on the phone. And he’s crying cuz he didn’t get to say goodbye.

Now if that doesn’t melt your heart, you might need to check for your pulse.

I initiated another facetime call and spent a moment telling James I loved him and accepting his love for me. It was such a beautiful blessing, such an unexpected moment in my world.

I’m thankful for each of my nieces and nephews, who have loved me each in their own manner, with their own personalities and their own ways of expression. But today I am especially thankful for James. I am so blessed by the tender heart in this young boy. He will grow to be a man with a tender heart, just like his daddy. And that gives me such hope for the future of mankind.

But more immediately, it gives me hope for myself. A child with a pure and generous heart…loves me.

How can a girl not be thankful for that?

Father God, I thank You for the gifts You give to me each day. For my sweet nephew, so full of affection and smiles, I praise You. He is created in Your image, a compassionate and loving heart. Bless him this evening. Protect his spirit from the bitterness of this world, and grow him always in Your mercy and peace. Thank You for loving me so much that You would give me such a beautiful reminder of the simplicity and eager desire we all have for love.


There’s an old lyric from Caedmon’s Call:

I love anonymity and I love being noticed–just the same as anybody else.

Years ago, I told you how I love to be alone; these days I’d be perjuring myself.

I’ve loved these words for years, because I think it’s true for many musicians, many artists. We grow up feeling totally out of place; we long for solitude to make sense of our art; and after years of being the wallflower who observes life all around, we yearn for the intimacy of being in the throes of life’s squall. The process may be different for each of us, and maybe it happens more than once (maybe it’s cyclical?…oh dear Lord, I hope not…) or in different patterns, but there exists somewhere in our creative mind a place that affirms the juxtaposition: I love anonymity; I love being noticed.

Recently, through an amazingly odd turn of events, I found myself with access to an empty house.

I was elated.

The thought of having this space to myself for any given amount of time was an amazing thrill. It is every artist’s dream to have an empty space to fill with the stuff of their practice and creation. And it just so happens, for this songwriter, it is more than empty space; it is wooden floors and high ceilings and wide open spaces kind of empty space (wide open spaces?…there’s a Psalm about this). It is an acoustic heaven.

One night, as the sky settled into starless night, as the neighbors all shut down and drifted to sleep, as the words of a new song meandered about me like a fog that cannot lift, I felt it: Isolation.

Solitude is a blessing, right?

Except that it isn’t. It cannot be…unless it is balanced by the commotion of fellowship. When it lacks balance, it is no longer solitude; it is isolation.

Yes, another fence-post from Sarah. You must accept the two things which seem contradictory, or you forfeit them both. Perhaps you come to a different conclusion, but for me, the only answer is to accept the contradiction. Tozer writes about God’s justice and mercy in this regard. If we were able to remove God’s justice, there would be no need for His mercy. And if we removed His mercy, justice would simply be cruelty. They are balanced inclusively with one another like dueling sides of a mountain.

The moral here is not so much a moral as it is a plea.

From one artist to many others.


…don’t let me isolate myself.

I am sorely tempted as of late. I am hurting and confused and frustrated by many events of the past year. I am heartbroken and grief-stricken and overwhelmed by sorrow. I know it is a season; I know it will pass; I know that nothing stays the same forever (except the Changeless One). But if you think of me, please reach out to me. Even if I don’t respond (which I am prone to do), I promise–I notice. And I appreciate. I save those texts, those voicemails, those emails, those cards. I hold them dear like treasures a child finds at the beach on a beautiful summer day.

They are balm to an weary and wounded soul.

Pax Christi.


The Search for a Presidential Candidate: Part I

The Search for a Presidential Candidate: Part I

On Thursday, August 6, 2015, Fox News partnered with Facebook to host the first Republican debate for the 2016 Presidential race. I won’t lie: I was enraptured by the event, even though it’s been years since I considered myself a Republican. With seventeen candidates, the debate was broken into two tiers, the Big Leagues debated at 9pm, EST, while the JV aired at 5pm, EST. I won’t bore you (or myself) by listing each candidate, giving commentary or play-by-play, et cet. If you haven’t done so, please go back and read A Prologue so you know what I’m looking for and at in this election cycle.

I categorized the candidates into three groups that made sense to me. The first group were those that I just don’t see as plausible candidates, either for the nation, or for my conscience. This group is Too Little, Too Late. These candidates, I thought, were just trying to maintain a position, and I have nothing to say on their behalf. It is unlikely I would even consider casting my vote for these candidates. The second group is Great Expectations.  These candidates were the ones I expected to really connect with, candidates I want to get behind and cheer on. Three candidates fell into this group. And finally, the Come Have Sunday Tacos at the Moore House group. These were the candidates that I really connected with based on their presentation at the debate, and only three made it to this group.

Today, I’d like to share with you my thoughts about the three candidates I carefully placed in the Great Expectations category.

Senator Rand Paul is the first (and obviously first) choice for my Great Expectations Group. He is probably the most blatant (and perhaps the only) Libertarian choice, if you couldn’t tell with all of that “Fourth Amendment” stuff he pummeled against Christie. I expected, by reason of Libertarian Solidarity, to be amazed and impressed by him; I simply wasn’t. While I totally agreed with his Fourth Amendment pummel, I thought his demeanor was a bit “I’m louder than you.” This is not how an argument is won or a debate is decided; more importantly, it is not how hearts and minds are persuaded. It doesn’t mean cat-poop if he “beats” Christie at this debate if people walk away shaking their heads at “two more politicians fighting about who can be louder.” The irritation and volume Paul exhibited is concerning to me for that reason.

I do appreciate that he is willing to say things that are controversial and unpopular (ie: The Fourth Amendment; calling Trump out on splitting the vote; et cet.). And I appreciate his Libertarian views. I did, however, find him very “I need to be your candidate!”

The next time I hear Paul speak, I want to hear about his tax proposal–I’ve heard rumors of glory, but for all his noise this week, I’ve heard nothing about his infamous tax proposal. I also would like to hear him express why it is important to talk about the Fourth Amendment. Look, Americans (particularly Republicans, I think) have this idea that sometimes we need to forfeit a little freedom in order to maintain safety or economic security or fill-in-the-blank. There’s a serious danger in doing so, and instead of getting into a shouting contest with Christie (and face it, you’re not going to “win” a shouting contest with a man that loud and bully), take this opportunity to remind the American people of that danger.

So yes, Paul–you’re redeemable at this point. Please. If I have to move you from one group to another (and I do; you’re not allowed to stay in the same group forever), I’d rather move you to the “Taco” group than the “Too Little, Too Late” group.

Senator Ted Cruz is the second candidate on the list. I wish I had much to say about this man, but I just don’t. I have exceptionally high expectations of him because Beck seems to like him. He seems to be relatively consistent with policy, which is good. Cruz is obviously both well-spoken and intelligent. So why did I land him in this group? Two reasons. First, there was all of this monkey-business last week about him calling Senate Majority Leader Mitch McConnell a “liar.” Now listen–dishonesty is dishonesty. If McConnell lied, someone ought to call him out on it. I honestly don’t even know the context in which the L-word was used, or to what it referred. So it’s a precarious question mark for me: How do we balance the need to call one another to honesty without being the bully I referred to in A Prologue? Does calling someone a liar make Cruz a mud-slinger? Not necessarily. It made me step back. To be fair, however, the few times I’ve heard Cruz interviewed, he has graciously turned the topic back to the issues facing our nation every time the media has tried to corner him with a “gotcha” about one of the other candidates. So I do think I have to be careful not to disregard Cruz just yet.

My second issue with Cruz is probably more important. I appreciate an intelligent, articulate person–and Cruz is definitely both of these things. I wonder, though, where his convictions are. I often wonder what politicians are passionate about. It is probably easy to get caught up in the humdrum of political life, and forget that holding public office is (and should be) about serving the people who elected you. I don’t mean to imply that Cruz has forgotten this; only…that I would really love to see him get riled up about something. Not riled up like Paul or Christie or Trump; but riled up like a man who knows that the actions (or lack) of the next president are going to make or break us. Again, maybe he feels passionate. As a candidate, I want to hear it in his voice. I want to see it in his eyes. I want to sense it in his body language and his address.

So Cruz? I want to have you over for Tacos. But Tacos at the Moore House are very high honor, and you’ll have to convince me that you can handle it. I sincerely hope you do.

Finally, and with a still unconvinced heart, I offer Dr. Ben Carson. Carson has been my candidate from the first moment I heard him speak–long before we were ever discussion this election. His tone, his manner, his conviction, his respect, his humility and even keel–these won my affection early on, and continue to win me. I have an amazing amount of respect for Carson, and the diligence he exemplifies. So why am I putting him in the Expectations group?

Oh, Ben. I wish I didn’t have to.

The first question addressed to Carson was very poignant, and I found myself feeling that my feathers were ruffled a bit on Carson’s behalf (which is why you never want to vote for me–for anything). Nonetheless, Carson answered the question better than anyone could have, I think. His point was brilliant, that our Founding Fathers were not career politicians; they were thinking, working, reading, philosophical men. And I do feel that having and using a brain is a better item for your resume than your years in office.

This just…isn’t it. There’s a place in the course of history for this man–mark my words. Maybe he is a future president; maybe he is an ambassador; maybe he cures cancer; maybe he is Secretary of State; maybe…who knows? But right now, at this moment…I’m just not convinced that this is the moment or the role. There are very decisive things that need to happen under the next presidency, and I’m not sure Carson is ready to do them.

I would love to be wrong. I invite you, Carson–to show me that I’m wrong. I want to get you into that Taco group.

That’s all for now, friends. I’ll share the Taco group sometime this week. In the meantime, is there anyone you’d like to see step up their game?



The Search for a Presidential Candidate: A Prologue

The Search for a Presidential Candidate: A Prologue

There are three things I want to be forthright about before I delve into my thoughts about the candidates.

Number I. I consider myself a Libertarian. I find that I am not quite as Libertarian as most of the Libertarians I know, and this frustrates both them and me. The likelihood, at any rate, of me voting for a True Blue Democrat or a Red Handed Republican is gone with yesterday, never to be seen again. My feeling thus far is that the Democratic party will not have any candidates to tempt me. I am, however, open to any new faces that come to the show.

Number II. About a year ago, I contemplated how to best use my vote in this election. I don’t want to waste a vote, you see? I hear so many Libertarians and mid-road voters say that to vote Third Party would basically be throwing a vote away. I want to be clear: I disagree with this sentiment wholeheartedly. Wasting a vote would be casting it for a man or woman whose character and policies contradict my own. So how do I spend my vote wisely, seeing as I only have one? I set a standard, that’s how. And what is that standard? For me, it is twofold.

First, it means that I’m not going to spend my support and vote on a mud-slinger. That’s right. The money that is wasted in this country on smear campaigns is ridiculous and offensive to the needs around the world. It offends every fiber of my being. So candidates who are spending money to disparage other candidates? Candidates who employ a name-calling, loudest-voice-wins-the-argument, bully tactic? I’m sorry, but how you speak of another human being tells others more about you than it does the other. Honestly, we’ve had enough of that nonsense in our governing offices.

Second, it means that when a candidate speaks, I’m listening for content and not advertisement. Listen, I understand. With seventeen candidates aching for the Republican party nomination, this first debate was a big deal; It was a defining moment, whereby many candidates were going to sink or swim. It was almost necessary to have a thirty-second blurb that you could revert to when you had a moment to speak, otherwise you may never have another moment to “sell yourself” to the voter. I get it. But don’t you think we’ve had enough of slogans and sales tactics? This nation doesn’t need the best price, the best deal, the newest model. We are seeking a Leader, not a Used Car Salesman. And for that matter, I’m not interested in promos and political promises. “This is why you need me in office” doesn’t cut it. “I’ll defund Planned Parenthood” is a vain promise or threat, depending on your stance. How about substance? Give us some meat and keep your dainties for when you’re entertaining the political elite.

Number III. I don’t often write about politics. Quite frankly, if there’s one sure way to scare off my three blog viewers, it’s to wax political (hm…wax political? Wax politic? Anyone know the proper way to say what I just attempted?). In fact, I’m not sure what is stirring in me that requires writing about it here, but it definitely does. Please understand that my words are, in no way, an attempt at persuasion: I value the society that allows men and women to freely think, speak, and disagree with one another. Neither are my words a vain endorsement: It is much too early in the presidential race to avow myself to any candidate. Again, I want to be absolutely clear about this fact: I am not a political blogger. I am not a political anything. I’m just me. I’m just a mid-thirties gal who is trying to be informed and involved in the issues facing this nation and this world. I know it’s almost cliché to say this, but I sincerely believe that we are living at a precarious moment in history. It’s time for Americans to be awake and aware of what is happening around them, not to simply throw themselves at the mercy of a candidate or a party or one solitary conviction. That’s right–I don’t think we’re at a place in our nation’s history where we can afford to vote solely the abortion issue. It’s time to expect more of men and women and accept less of the status quo.

If you’ve read this far and your head hasn’t exploded, I encourage you to stay tuned. Tomorrow morning, I will share my first blog about the Presidential Candidates.



A Few Ends

I thought I’d share a few snippets of what I’ve been working on so y’all don’t think I’ve totally neglected writing. I hope you find a line or a phrase or a word or a meter that you appreciate.

One for Amy…

Oh open your heart, love

To imperfect lives, love

Sometimes true beauty shines

In how we give

Of our time, love

And all that we are, love

You’ll never find another heart like her

And how about this…

You can smell it–

If you Breathe in slowly–

The cool and the crisp

Of Superior.

And if you silence your heart–

And you silence your phone–

You can hear Her soft whispers of love

To the shore.

One for the guy who doesn’t love me…

I’m  so aware

Of your whiskers and eyes

Your fingernails and

Your guitar.

Your warm, gentle fingers

So treacherously close

It takes all of my will

To keep mine where they are.

And one for a friend we made in Eau Claire in May, who is now eight months past her brain tumor removal…

Miracles happen every day

Every breath you breathe, every step you take

And every beat of your heart

It echoes the very heart of God, the steady pulse of Love

Each day is a gift

What will you do with it?

Pax, yo.


The Master & The Blueberries

My sister is a Master Blueberry Picker.

Two summers ago, I sat in the sand with Maggie and her son, and we picked almost as many blueberries as we ate. The company was wonderful, the fellowship tender. We spoke of the heart and how it learns to love, how it breaks, how it heals, and how it learns to love all over again. She asked about a friend of mine, a man friend that I had been interested in for some time, and in my anxious attempt to thwart the discussion, I stood, stretched, and sought a bluer patch. Maggie stayed right there, her knees planted among the sandy-hilled roots of the ever-spreading blueberry plants. She spoke of her husband, how she had dared to ask her Heavenly Father for a few specific things in her future mate, and how radically He had answered her heart. I had made a list, too, I said. Had I asked God, she challenged in her gentle way. I turned, unsettled, and looked for another spot to pick. Maggie suggested we make a blueberry pie from scratch for dessert, even though neither of us had done so before. 

All the while we sat in the warm sand, Maggie stayed in one spot. I chose a new spot every ten or fifteen minutes. While my nervous anxiety had me always looking for something new, something more comfortable, something better, Maggie’s patience touched every branch of every plant, gently searching for each berry as if it was the most important blueberry ever. She was content in that one space, always seeking and always finding another blueberry. 

I thought of this again tonight as I plucked the beautiful blues from their  stems. I took care to find each berry on a given plant before reaching for a new plant. And even then, I found that returning to a plant often yielded more berries. 

Isn’t it that way with God? So often we hurry from one “God Moment” to the next, looking for something bigger and better and more amazingly provable. Yet, when we do this, we miss so many tiny morsels of God’s real presence and provision in our lives. 

Sit quietly, friends. Allow your fingers to find each berry. And be content.

That is my aim.

Pax Christe.


The Tangled Sweater

This is a story about a girl who may or may not bear any resemblance to me. Let’s call her Shhhhhhara. Yeah. Shara.

On Friday, Shara was driving home from work, singing at the top of her lungs to the soundtrack from That Thing You Do (aka: Best Movie Ever). The afternoon was sunny and beautiful, but the air was cool enough to relieve the warmth. Shara lived for days like this. Having recently been diagnosed with Lupus, Shara had–as of late–been trying to dress in layers. The Upper Michigan weather had been so fluctuant, and layers helped her to manage the effects of the climactic extremes. On the day of our story, Shara had chosen a bright (not neon, but bold) pink three-quarter shirt under a lightweight black cabled sweater. Bold colors look great coupled with black, by the way.

So there was our girl, driving home from work with the windows down and the music blaring. She realized for the first time in a week that she was feeling good, and decided to celebrate by taking off her sweater. Now if you think that taking off a sweater while driving is a bad idea, you’re right. However, it is a well-established fact among Shara’s friends and family that she can do this without unbuckling her seat belt or taking her eyes off the road. It’s all about the steps, the process, she tells people. In fact, Shara has done this several dozen times in her life and has never had a problem or caused an accident.

Shara gripped the wheel with her left hand and carefully maneuvered her right arm out of the black sleeve. Leaving the right sleeve limp on her shoulder, she took the wheel in her dominant hand and slithered out of the weaker sleeve. All that remained was her head. She lifted the sweater over her head and —


Not good, Shara. Not good.

She slowed her highway speed to 40mph. There was no one behind or before her, or she never would have attempted this in the first place. Shara glanced down and saw the problem. Her left sleeve was caught in the back of the seatbelt. No problem. She reached back and pulled it free, then tried to pull the sweater under the shoulder strap of the belt.


Really not good.

A car appeared in her rearview mirror long enough to signal before passing her. The other driver glanced as he passed, double-took, and then shook his head with a laugh as he cruised by. Shara finally did the smartest thing in this story.

She pulled over.

It was there, on the side of the road by Marquette Mountain, in a tangled sweater-seatbelt with the Shrimp Shack playing on the stereo that Shara had a beautiful, unexpected, ridiculous God-moment.

How often do we look at our lives and think we understand what God is doing? We think that our understanding enables us to correctly (and safely) behave in a way that will bring about the (assumed) end result. The truth is, just like Sarah in the Bible, when we try to make God’s promises come about on our own, we mess everything up. We cause ourselves more heartache and grief simply because we forget that God is the Author of our story. And when we realize that we’ve done it–that we’ve caused more trouble than we’re worth–there’s only one thing to do: Stop. Stop and Untangle.

In more than one regard, this is where I am in my life. I’m untangling a lot of things–music, writing, theology, poverty, purpose, love, family, health. I’m stopped. I am overwhelmed with the realization that I don’t understand any of it. I want to understand, and I thought I understood–but I don’t. I’m caught in my own sweater, and every wrong move tightens around my neck like a noose. You can understand, then, why it’s necessary for me to take time and not rush this process. I’ll get it all worked out. I know I will. I just can’t promise it’ll happen as quickly as it should. I have always needed to do things in my own time, and this is no different.

I’m so thankful that God allows us to pull over and untangle!



No sweaters were harmed in the writing of this blog post.