Tuesday, July 10, 2012

thought of the day. 1

Already it’s July. Unbelievable. Honestly it is. I swear, I’m eighteen but I’m going to be a grandmother before I know it. Perhaps it’s my over-analytical mind, or just the thought of change, but I have a hard time imagining growing older; being old; being haggard. In a simple way, I find it satisfyingly beautiful. Being old, hard of hearing, wrinkled brow and skin, stiff hands and the rubbing of joints, gray and white hairs coarser than their voluptuous predecessors, weary gray  eyes, crows feet, slurred words, deeper tones, slow movement, loss of memory…they all combine to create a being who is the essence of life itself. Everything you’ve done in life to become old, it’s all earned. And it’s worth it. There’s nothing to be afraid of - just excitement about a life to live, full of great things God has set in stone since before the beginning of time for your benefit, not harm. 

Monday, July 9, 2012

i like being broken.

There are just some people who seem to be naturally "with it". What do I mean by this? Well ask yourself what "with it" means and you'll probably start to think of people who seem to have the works. They are bright and brilliant; charming and winsome; talented and together; cool and collected; graceful...beguiling in their aura of unperturedness and placidity. And yes, I am using a thesaurus while writing this. Point to be made, I see so many people who just seem lovely; they are beautiful, inside and out; they are talented and artistic, they wear adorable clothes, and as if by chance, it all looks natural. They have beautiful handwriting, nice skin, good hair and nails, smarts and intelligence, motivation and determination. Bottom line, they are "with it" and I can't help but be envious. Even as I'm writing, a silent voice is quelling my frantic mind and asking the simple question, "Does it matter, Sarah?" It's not a question from my mind, but His. Oh goodness, no. It doesn't matter at all. But I suppose it's nice. In reality, I know that no one is like the words I used to above - at least not all of them together. Those picture perfect models are saved for Hollywood's motion pictures. The idea is nice, though. Even if that idea of perfection were possible, would I want it? I think not. Because that's not who I am. I am broken. And as odd as it sounds, I like being broken because I am constantly reminded that I need fixing. I am constantly reminded that I am a true scoundrel; that I am a cheat; that I am nothing. I am also reminded that He constantly makes much of Himself through me and my deplorable weaknesses, and that keeps me in my place with no room to boast, save for in Him alone.