Sarah Anne I Am

Link: Enough So I found a blog written by someone I don’t know, but seem to have much in common with. And I share this because it encouraged me, as I lie awake in bed fighting the urge to go clean my bathroom, which feels more important than sleep tonight. I am staying in bed, because I am in sore need of a full night of sleep, and because I don’t want to fall into the trap of believing that a clean house is more important than these 1am cuddles with my baby, while he still is a baby. Mothers, do not be discouraged. Take heart. Soak in the sweet, quiet moments with your children, even it is simply holding them while they cry over something you cannot fix. Rejoice in them. Praise God for them. Choose to ignore your dirty dishes, dirty laundry, dirty hair…love the moments you have with your beautiful gift from God. I say this as much to remind myself as to encourage you.

  One year ago today, I put on a white dress and walked barefoot down an aisle between rows of smiling friends and family, and married the love of my life. It sounds a bit cliche, but he really is.   Arthur is my best friend, my greatest love- second only to the God of creation- and the man of my dreams. He is the best man that I know. I could go on for pages about the incredible husband I have been blessed with, and the many things that I adore and admire about him. But there is a better way for me to honor him and our first year of marriage, and that is to give credit where credit is truly due: the Father Who loves us.   There are many moments and dates in our relationship that I remember so well, but by far the most significant of those is the day we were married. Arthur’s dad, the humble and wise Bud Diener, married us. The ceremony was perfect, in that it was entirely Christ-focused. Because really, that’s what we want our marriage to be, and we wanted our wedding to set the

Sometimes I look at other girls and wonder how they get such perfect curls in their hair. Then I remember that they get up early and curl it. I just get up late, squint at the mirror, and say “Please be curly, please be curly!” Well, THERE’S your problem.

Confession: Sometimes Facebook reveals to me that friends of mine are also friends with each other. Sometimes this causes me to mentally jump up and down shouting “MARRY EACH OTHER!” Thank goodness I don’t do this in real life. Seriously, though…THEY COULD BE SO GREAT TOGETHER.

…I would write, essentially, blog entries in spiral bound notebooks. I just found one while unpacking. I was a sad sort of teenager.

  I lay in bed five days ago, staring up at the dark shapes that the shadows made on the ceiling. It was the fourth night since Judah had been born, and I was realizing something: Already, I am wrong.   Before our first child was born- this tiny blessing that we have had for just over a week now- I was certain of many things. I made plans. I confidently stated that our child would never co-sleep with my husband and I, because it was just too scary- and besides, we had a perfectly good cradle for him to sleep in instead. And yet now I found myself cuddled up beside the most precious human being I had ever seen, as he slept deeply (and safely) between Arthur and I in our bed.  Before he was born, I said I’d never give Judah formula. And while I am sticking with breastfeeding, I cannot deny the fact that at 4am three days into motherhood I cried and wanted to give up.     I have realized in these short nine days of Judah’s life that many of the things I was certain of before he was born

  I’ve had “22” by Taylor Swift stuck in my head today. I’m not much of a Taylor Swift fan, but there is no denying how catchy that song is- like it or not, it sticks.   I also happen to be 22 years of age, which should- in theory- make this song relatable, right? Well, let’s see what Taylor Swift has to say about being 22 and find out. -Dress up like hipsters (So…BE a hipster…because that’s the same thing.) -Make fun of our exes (As opposed to being an adult? Come on, now.) -Breakfast at midnight (This is always a good idea, regardless of age.) -Fall in love with strangers (Always a bad idea, regardless of age.) -Happy, free, confused, and lonely at the same time (I was a walking contradiction like that when I was about seventeen. Now, thank goodness, it only hits on bad days.) -Forget the deadlines (That only causes problems.) -End up dreaming instead of sleeping (It’s fun until your to-do list is still there in the morning and you’re sleep-deprived. Then it’s less fun.) -You

  People keep telling me to enjoy pregnancy while it lasts. I smile, I nod, but what I am really thinking is something more like this:  Sure, I enjoy it as much as I can, but I want a lot of kids. I could be pregnant like EIGHT MORE TIMES. The miracle of life is great, but some of this just sucks, ok?   Because it does. Sometimes pregnancy sucks. I don’t hate being pregnant, but I don’t always love it either. But guess what? I’m not pregnant for pregnancies sake. I haven’t longed for this time for years because I was super excited for killer nausea, having my hips decided to quit mid-step, and packing on weight all summer. Being pregnant is awesome because you get a baby at the end!   The baby is the point. It is a blessing that God does not waste the waiting period that comes before the baby, and so pregnancy- in all it’s challenging glory- has brought with it many opportunities for growth and choosing to glorify God even when things suck. However when it is all said and done, in 6-

Prior to this pregnancy, I would have chosen invisibility as my superpower, had a superpower been offered to me. Now, however, I am rethinking that choice. See, somehow that specific combination of my I-always-knew-as-a-child-I-was-destined-to-be-a-fairy genetics and my husbands I-wish-I-was-a-vulcan genetics has produced a baby with the apparent ability to turn himself invisible. What’s more, his ability is so strong, that he can actually turn ME invisible while he is currently encased in my sore, loving womb. This has been an incredible and eye-opening experience. More specifically, I have learned that being invisible sucks. People run into you all the time. Sometimes with heavy objects, like shopping carts or themselves. I have nearly been hit by a car more times in the past 7 months than the first 21 years of my life. What’s more, I’m actually more careful now- especially around motor vehicles- than I have ever been. While I once ran across six lanes of traffic hoping I was

   "House and wealth are an inheritance from fathers, But a prudent wife is from the LORD.” -Proverbs 19:14 Sometimes I feel like a pretty good wife; sometimes I feel like a pretty terrible wife. But the objective of marriage is not simply to be comfortable with my feelings- it is to glorify God. So even if I’m behind on ALL the housework and ALL the things, (like I have been this week…it’s been horrendous) as long as I am responsibly maintaining my relationship with God and my husband, it’s a successful week as a wife.   I honor God by honoring my husband, and there are lots of ways to honor my husband even when the apartment is in utter shambles- which it definitely is.   Taking an interest in Arthur’s work, encouraging him in his ministry, expressing my thankfulness and pride for his dependence on the Holy Spirit, trusting him with my emotions (even the ugly, scary ones!)- all of these things honor Arthur and the important role God has given him in my life. All of these things

  I am 22 years old. I am a wife and a mother. I don’t have a college education, or a job. I am white, straight, and Christian. I vote conservative. I don’t hate black people, gay people, or people of other religions. I like coffee. I prefer android operating systems to anything Apple.   And I think that my own opinion on political and societal matters does not matter at all, unless it aligns with the clear truth of the Bible.   As someone who professes to follow Christ, my first responsibility is to Him. Not to what I- as a fallible human being- personally perceive as just, fair, good, or acceptable, but to what the infallible word of God determines to be such.   People of differing political standpoints frequently make remarks about people like myself saying things such as, “You are what’s wrong with this country,” and “Use your brain.”   I have high regard for critical thinking, logic, science, and justice. God created all of those things, and my ability to evaluate a topic logicall

  As of today, I am 26 weeks pregnant. In just a little more than three months our first child will be born, and we grow more excited for that day all the time! Despite the less than enjoyable aspects of being pregnant- the newest of which is icing my back each night to reduce the soreness- I really do like being pregnant. I like being able to care for this little boy before he has even taken his first breath.   Yet I have been made to realize that it is not really me who is caring for this tiny life inside me.   Now, of course I am responsible for taking care of myself and my baby to the best of my ability during this pregnancy. I take vitamins and drink enough water to drown a small animal. I eat healthy snacks throughout the day and take walks. When I felt slightly anemic I brewed nettles into a tea to get a natural source of iron- trust me, I am fully dedicated to this child’s health and well being!   Yet despite all of that, it is not truly me who is keeping this boy alive. I am

It has been more than a year now- just over 13 months- since my seemingly trusty little car was suddenly in need of a new transmission, and I began to depend on public transportation instead of myself. The hours spent in small seats besides strangers have taught me more than I expected. Or rather, in my silent observations and long thoughts, I have learned much- I am sure many who ride the bus more often than I gain little from the experience, but for me it has been revealing. I found early on in my newly-doubled commute that riding the bus provided a natural, lengthy window of time to read the Bible. I began scrolling through Proverbs in the Bible on my phone on my way to work, instead of singing with the radio up loud as I had when I was driving. It took time, but my need for music as a constant companion lessened, and I found instead great joy and comfort in the verses I filled my mind with. Everyone around me, however, played mindless games on their phones, watched movies on thei

  Last week my delightful unborn child both impressed and annoyed me when he delivered several well-aimed kicks directly to my full bladder. As he is practicing this new trick more and more each day, it becomes less novel. Instead of marveling at how strong his tiny little legs are, I now tell him to chill the heck out while I speed walk to the bathroom.   He is also learning to hang out in positions that I don’t find terribly comfortable. I’m sure it’s just one big warm, soothing happy place for him in there, but for me- the actual owner of the uterus he is currently inhabiting- it is not always happy nor soothing. I’ve taken to answering his prodding and jabbing by prodding back. This usually gets him to ease up a bit when he’s been throwing his entire weight against one interior wall of my still-new-at-this body. Even now, we are both learning compromise.   There are a lot of things that I thought I’d be able to live without while pregnant- emergency ice cream, maternity jeans, onli

  My mother-in-law (whom I honestly adore) sent me an article on marrying young recently. Well, it made me cry. And perhaps that’s just due to all the pregnancy hormones raging through my ever-enlarging body, but I really was struck by what was said in this article.   See, I have some very strong feelings about marriage. (Imagine, me feeling strongly about something…unheard of, I know.) I am thankful that I waited till last December to get married, not so much because I think I needed to be that age, but because all the guys in my life prior to Arthur were a far cry from husband material, and I am so thankful that I’m not living on a beach with a pothead who thinks my pregnancy might be a bad case of bloat.   See, I’m 22. According to society’s expectations for young people, I should either be graduating from college and establishing a career, or I should still be in school. Now, both going to college and choosing a career are great things to do. They really are. However, as a 22-year-

So I have been thinking about this baby being born, and how I will obviously sing to it before bed. Which made me start thinking about all the songs I used to sing to Levi before bed. There are some really horrible bedtime choices among them! Such as… "Learning How to Die" by Jon Foreman. "I Don’t Love You" by My Chemical Romance. "Happiness is a Warm Gun" by the Beatles. Really, I might be a terrible mother.

Today I am visiting my family. The oldest of my brothers is seventeen. He told me two days ago that he missed me, and I should come over. I can’t say no to a seventeen year old that asks for my time. Seventeen was such an incredibly rough year for me, and I remember how seventeen feels all too well. And so off I go. I am wearing my husband’s sweater, which is just big enough to fit over my ever-expanding baby bump without stretching the material too much. I am also wearing one of his scarves, and carrying my supply of food in a bag of his. I am glad he is so good at sharing, because I am great at being shared with. The bus I am on- the second of four busses that will eventually take me to my parents house- is on I-5, and it is almost downtown. When on a bus that is approaching downtown Seattle, you have a vantage point that you don’t often have when in a car on this same stretch of freeway. Sitting on the bus, I am high enough to see down over the guardrails on the edge of the fr

  I spent almost an hour on the phone with my incredible 8-year-old brother Levi today. Here’s what he had to say . "I love pasta. I like it with tomatoes and cheese, and olives on the side." Me : When the baby is born we will take pictures of you and it together. Levi: Oh, those will be so cute! "You and Arthur can come to my house and I will teach you how to make coffeecake. It takes flour and milk and eggs, and other ingredients. The hard part is putting it in the oven, and testing it to see if it is done or if it needs three more minutes." Me : You are the cutest kid. Levi: Yes I am. Me: By the time it’s your birthday, in July, my tummy will be so big! Levi: Oh yeah! Will the baby pop out at my party? Me: Will you be a great uncle? Levi: OF COURSE! "If you want to visit me, don’t come on Friday. I will be gone on Friday. Also, I can’t do school on Friday because I will be gone. Sorry ‘bout that." "When I visit you I will b

I love you so much, and I am completely devoted to you, and I know that you’re the man God had for me to marry- BUT, even if none of that was true, there are still hundreds of good reasons for me to marry you. And this fudge is two of them. My eternal thankfulness when Arthur made me fudge

  I just realized that my last few posts have enumerated many of the less-than-delightful side effects of pregnancy.   So I want to take a moment to list off some of the things that this pregnancy has improved- improved to the point where I feel I am verging on superhuman.    Weight Loss : That’s right- LOSS. Turns out, two solid months of non-stop nausea and vomiting on a eerily regular schedule can actually lead to dropping a few pounds. Or almost ten pounds, in my case.   Now I am entering the healthy weight gain stage, but that does not lessen the feeling of success I have after the first trimester. Human Noise Machine: Granted, the noises I can produce at inhuman volumes are a select few- namely, belching and uncontrollable sobbing- but boy, if a 7th grade boy challenges me to a belch-off, I can SO win that. And if I get lost in the wilderness, I will easily be found by the sound of hormonal wailing over nothing.   Which brings me to…   Never Get Lost in the Wilderness- For Long

  I believe that God’s grace is actually sufficient.   For everyone. And everything. No matter how horrible, how unimaginably cruel, how disgusting. Sin is sin. I am no better than a rapist. I am no better than a murderer. I am no better than anyone else. I feel the full weight of that as I type it- the fact that I am not worth more than someone who would rape an innocent human being is horrifying to me. And yet it is true. My sins are no more acceptable than that.   And I do not think that it is alright for me to hate someone because their sin is more horrifying to me than my own sin. First of all, my own sin should disgust me- it is, after all, dirty and ugly and real- and I should fully realize that I am only free from it NOT BY OWN MERIT but by the grace of God.   I am not free from my sins because I had a good upbringing. It’s not because I go to church. It’s not because I vote right or help old ladies at the grocery store or am nice to people. It’s because Christ paid for my s

Proverbs this morning was a barrage of much-needed reminders. Proverbs 19:1-2, 5, 11, 16, 20, 22 NASB “Better is a poor man who walks in his integrity Than he who is perverse in speech and is a fool. Also it is not good for a person to be without knowledge, And he who hurries his footsteps errs. A false witness will not go unpunished, And he who tells lies will not escape. A man’s discretion makes him slow to anger, And it is his glory to overlook a transgression. He who keeps the commandment keeps his soul, But he who is careless of conduct will die. Listen to counsel and accept discipline, That you may be wise the rest of your days. What is desirable in a man is his kindness, And it is better to be a poor man than a liar.” Alright, Lord. Can’t argue with that. Consider my tongue held and my anger calmed. Man, I love the Word of God.

Dear status update, dear Facebook; here I make a solemn vow That throughout my lovely married life some things I’ll not allow No detailed play-by-play of cleaning; no album of food I cook No, my menial daily details shall not be here when you look I won’t burden you with descriptions of how much mold I’ve seen Nor bore with exclamations of the stores to which I’ve been I’ll not brag of groceries carried through the snow, uphill both ways I’ll refrain from sharing every humorous thing my husband says Should I learn that Christmas trees can be re-purposed in a stew If I shout of this finding, dear Facebook, it will not be to you Though my laundry skill may keep even one sock from escaping Or I may once receive an honorary Nobel prize for decorating Though I may someday be elected as the president of water-filtering Or add to the English language quaint words such as “Milkering” (The act of filtering milk- but you must have known that) I still will not update you daily on my every inspiri