Sarah Anne I Am

  I’ve spent most of my life being really good at being really mean.   The only real trouble with being nice is that being mean just comes so naturally, and I’m so maddeningly GOOD at it! I used to be well-practiced in the art of conjuring up a phrase that could rip you apart in a matter of carefully-punctuated seconds. I could pick the right words, the right tone, and the right facial expression and time it all just-so in order to achieve maximum damage.   But see, being mean never payed off in the long run. Just because I could use my creative cruelty in the form of humor, witticism, and cleverness didn’t redeem my behavior. Sure, in the short-term being mean gave me an advantage, and edge over everyone I came in contact with simply because they knew I could rip them to shreds if I wanted to. It gave me some filthy taste of power, but no one really likes that person who is constantly in a power struggle with them.   No one really likes someone who uses their way with words to be mean

I can’t be or do everything for everyone all of the time- or even part of the time! I can’t come to every event or fulfill every favor asked of me. I can’t always be as flexible with my time or my schedule as you’d like. I can’t stop, drop, and make things work out for you at the cost of me sleeping, eating, or actually walking at a normal pace instead of literally RUNNING to my car in order to only be a FEW minutes late. I can’t do everything you want me to, be everywhere you want me to be, or support everyone in every way all of the time. I can’t, and what’s more, I WON’T. Hello world, I am done trying to please all of your occupants at the exact same time. I will get at least six hours of sleep and refuse to constantly run on caffiene. I will eat three meals a day, and none of them will be out of a vending machine. I will sit in the sun, have real conversations, and take time to be still before the Lord- if I can even remember how to be still. I will try to support you, love you, be

  Levi is a six-year-old, blue-eyed little boy with blonde hair and one of the greatest smiles I have ever seen. I am blessed enough to be his sister, and today he and I went to the grocery store.   For most peoplegrocery shopping is a chore, just another thing on the to-do list. For Levi, it is an adventure. Safeway is a treasure trove for that child, and before we were even through the doors he was affectionately petting a watermelon and saying, “Buy this, Sarah? Please? I LOVE watermelons.” Once I’d gotten him to come inside, he practically skipped to the produce section, pulling me by the hand and exclaiming over the oranges.   “Ooh, oranges! I LOVE oranges!” His voice and his face were both joyous as he moved quickly down the aisles, commenting on things and waving at the other shoppers, evoking smiles and hello’s from perfect strangers. Levi finds joy in the things the rest of us find bothersome- to him, the world is full of excitement and happiness, and everyone he meets is wort

  The familar thump thump thump of rap music came from the car next to mine as I pulled up the red light.   There were two guys in the car, both probably about my age- nineteen or twenty. The guy in the passenger seat sat there looking bored, but the driver- now, he was getting his cool on.   For those of you who HAVEN’T tried to show off your hip-hop dance skills while sitting down, let me tell you, it doesn’t look easy. This young man had to keep his foot firmly on the brake lest he destroy the bumper of the car in front of him, while taking his hands off the wheel and gesturing broadly. Add in the fact that the white sweatshirt he was wearing was about two sizes too big for him, and he had to keep the hood of it placed just-so atop his billcap, and perhaps you can begin to understand the skill level required to dance while sitting at a red light.   It was amusing, let’s just say that.   I had just taken this all in when he turned and saw me watching him. I laughed, not intending to,