Skip to main content

Four for Friday, Lucky Me Edition

So today I spent my day in a very perfect way. Oh hey, that rhymes!

I spent the day at my friend Amy's house. First, let me tell you about Amy's house. Amy lives in a very large, very lovely house. Amy has great taste, there is not a room in that house that doesn't make you feel happy. Her family room is yellow with hints of chocolate. She has a large leather sectional that could probably sit most of Rhode Island comfortably. I <3 it. I would marry it if I was single. I mean, it's supportive, always listens, never interrupts, always looks good, and makes me comfortable. If the couch could pull off funny....well nevermind.

Other than sitting on the couch, I got to spend the day holding Amy's brand new baby boy. It was loverly. He's the cutest little bundle of old man face you ever saw (just like most babies are) with wide blue eyes and feather soft reddish hair. I feel so lucky that she trusted me enough to care for her baby boy. So, in honor of the perfect baby Andrew, I give you four reasons I love service today.

1. Service is selfish. I mean, you give to help others and end up helping yourself. I didn't have time to focus on MY house, MY move, MY problems, MY insecurity, MY nap, MY MY MY. And I didn't miss MY stuff at all.

2. Service feels nice. No, really. It just feels good to say "Hey, I got that" or "It's my pleasure" and mean it.

3. Service invites you in, makes you part of someone's life - even for a day - and part of someone's heart.

4. Service unites and binds. I am fortunate enough to have a friend who is open to the promptings of the Holy Spirit, who calls me up and says "let's go" even though she will have to tow along 3 children (and another on the way), who doesn't bat an eye but offers all she is and all she has freely.

If I can stop one heart from breaking,
I shall not live in vain.
If I can ease one life the aching,
Or cool one pain,
Or help one fainting robin
Unto his nest again,
I shall not live in vain.

-Emily Dickinson


You are so funny Sarah. I love the way you write- it makes me smile every time I read your posts!

Popular posts from this blog

Dear Carly,

I assume that one day you will come to me wanting to know who you are, where you came from, where your other family is and why they gave you to us.  I offer you little bits of information already, but certainly not crumbs enough to satisfy the appetite.  Perhaps it won't matter to you.  I am assuming a lot, already, about how adoption will impact your life.

People often wonder why adoptive parents are hurt when their children seek out biological roots.  I have the answer, and it's very simple.  Adoption - at its core - makes us question the legality, authority, voracity, and validity of parenthood.  For most adoptive parents, first you must come to terms with an issue that strikes at the foundations of mortality: fertility.  From birth, most of us are driven to form families.  First we are nestlings, nurtured and weened and eventually taught to fly.  Then we are nest-builders, filling our lives with the stuff necessary to drive life forward.  Knowledge, safety, money, a sturdy …

Fragmented re-introduction

I dreamed a dream once of what this would be like.  Of life.  Of patterns and songs and ticking off boxes to find my way. 

Trouble was, I keep looking at the wrong list.

This year's list:

- Turn 40 (check)
- Move again (check)
- Send the boy on a mission (check)
- Finish admin license
- Get lost (check)
- Get found (check)
- Lost again (check)

Wait, that went off track. 

Adulthood is a lot of getting off track.  And back on.  It's weird.

I thought at 40, I would have it all together.

But, I'm barely keeping it from falling apart. 


So, this is me where I am now.

40, working, waiting.  My boy's on a mission in Boise.  My girl's 12 going on 20.  My husband hates his job most days, and loves it alternatively.  Same for me.  We live in a small town I don't like very much and dream of going somewhere else, but we don't know where that is. 

I want to be a writer, but I don't spend time writing.

I read something the other day that gave me hope: Guy Fieri…

On being away from home and turning sixteen: a letter to my son

Dear Josh,

I missed your sixteenth birthday.  I'm sure you recall - or maybe it wasn't so bad because you spent the whole day with your friend watching movies.  Godzilla and Guardians of the Galaxy, you've said.  It's no surprise to me that Godzilla was your favorite of the two.  That atomic green monster holds a special place in your heart.

It was very difficult for me to be away from you when you crossed this threshold in your life.  I remember turning sixteen, being sixteen, and wondering when I would feel like I was actually sixteen.  When I was sixteen, I went and found my first job, I started driving myself around, and I pretty much felt like I was in the wrong skin.  I'm only now, at 37, beginning to feel in the right skin.  Or at least comfortable with the skin I'm in.  But you - well, you don't seem to have a problem being you.  I can't explain how very happy that makes me feel, how very reassured.  Because it can be really hard not to like you…