Small Beginnings

For several years now, every time I've heard about the Susan G. Komen 3-Day Walk to benefit breast cancer research, I've thought, "I really want to do that someday." But this year is different. Now I know Laura, a beautiful, brave young mother who's battling breast cancer. (I hope to share more of her story with you soon.)
 

Laura and Her 4-Year-Old Son, Allyson's Friend Samuel

For weeks, the commercials for the November event have been tugging hard at my heart. But all of the obstacles have been tugging just as hard in the opposite direction--like the 60 miles, and raising $2300 for the event, and walking for hours each week to prepare myself physically.

Back in January, my friend Gentle sent me a message inviting me to join her 3-Day team, the Tutu Warriors. She wants to do it for the same reason I do; she's been so inspired by Laura, and she wants to do something to honor her. Oh, I was tempted to join Gentle's team just like that. "I'll pray about it," I said. And I did. But I just didn't hear anything one way or the other.

A few weeks back, I had lunch with Laura, and she poured out her heart to me. After I talked with her and prayed with her, I phoned Gentle in tears. We talked about Gentle's plans for the 3-Day Walk, how it's such as small thing to do compared to what our friend is going through, yet how it feels good to do something to honor her--and maybe something that will help other women avoid the suffering she's endured.

While I was talking on the phone in the Walmart line--rude, I know!--I had an epiphany. "I know a way that this walk can really benefit her," I said. "Gentle! What if every time we train, every time we walk, we pray for Laura? We can pray alone and pray together. All of those hours of prayer--surely they will make a difference."

A tear slid down my cheek as I laid out my produce on the counter. "Gotta go," I said. "It's time to pay."

Can you guess what happened next? Do you know me that well? Yes, of course you do. After that talk with Gentle, I thought and thought and thought some more. And I still felt like I just couldn't commit to all that training time. I felt overwhelmed and ill equipped and rickety. And so disappointed in myself. "God, do you want me to do this?" I asked. "I'd really like to do this. But I need you to direct me. I need to know it's your will for me to take on one more commitment."

I heard nothing. 

Gentle's Sign
Around the middle of February, Gentle's household went through a string of illnesses that knocked her flat. She began to wonder whether she'd be able to stay well long enough to complete her training and do the walk. She almost decided to withdraw from the event, but then she asked God to give her a sign if she should continue. I believe it was that same day that she heard a friend of ours on the radio, sharing part of her testimony on her birthday. Gentle logged on to Caroline's blog to leave her a comment. Guess what the word verification was?

Yep, "comen." Not quite Komen, but close enough. Gentle was in! She snapped a picture with her phone and emailed it to me. Here was my response:

Wow! I've asked God to give me a sign about the walk, one way or the other. There is a huge part of me that wants to do it so much, but there is another part of me that feels stressed whenever I think about all that training, about adding MORE stuff to my already overloaded schedule. I told God tonight after I talked to you that I am not making a move until I feel a positive confirmation from him that it's what he wants me to do, and if it's not that he would give me a sign about that. Pray for me!

My Sign -- A Smile!
For the next couple of weeks, I just let it go. I was disappointed, but I figured maybe this wasn't the year for me. And then my sign came this morning, when I wasn't even watching for it. Laura came and sat next to me in church, and my heart leapt because I hadn't seen her since that lunch weeks ago. We sat around talking for a few minutes after church, and then she walked out to the parking lot with me and my family. She was having a rough morning, but I saw her face light up just one time: when she told me she heard from Gentle this morning. "Gentle's doing the 3-Day Walk!" she said. "I'm so excited. I told her I'd help her in any way I can."


"I've been teetering on the brink," I admitted. "I want to do the walk with Gentle, but I don't know how I can fit in all that training. I've wanted to do this for years."

"Oh, me too!" she said. "But my doctor said I couldn't do all that walking."

As I hugged her goodbye, I fought to hold back my tears. She wants to do the walk, but she CAN'T. It's not that she can't find the time in her busy schedule, but that she physically can't. And here I was with an able body, hemming and hawing.

Back at home, I asked Bill if he would help me get some family walks in, and if he could support me in this effort. "I know you can do it," he said. I wanted to tell him all I was feeling after talking with Laura, but I couldn't speak. I just stood in the kitchen and melted into my husband, enjoying his strong arms. When Allyson tried to get between us, he pushed her away gently. "This is a Mama hug," he explained, squeezing me even tighter.

Getting Started
Once I finally made up my mind, I was so excited to get started. I signed up as part of Gentle's team, and I went on my first training walk--a 3-mile round trip to the grocery store. As he watched me load up a backpack with the grocery list, a lady bug cooler insert from Allyson's lunch box, some cloth grocery bags, Kleenexes, some cash, and a water bottle, Bill couldn't resist teasing me a little.

"It looks like you're setting off on a huge expedition," he said.

I laughed at myself right along with him. "I've got to have a place to put the groceries," I said.

My walk was mostly glorious, on this 80-degree (27 Celsius), breezy afternoon--except that the top of my left foot started hurting about halfway there. (I'll be needing new shoes, I think.) The hardest part wasn't the walking, but the praying. I realize this will be as much about spiritual training as physical training.

Once I figured out that I could turn most of my memory passages into prayers for Laura, it was fun. "Praise the Lord, O my soul," I said to the wind. "All my inmost being praise His holy name. Praise the Lord, O my soul, and forget not all His benefits--who forgives all Laura's sins and heals all her diseases, who redeems her life from the pit and crowns her with love and compassion, who satisfies Laura's desires with good things, so that her youth is renewed like the eagle's." (From Psalm 103)

Before long I was downright rejoicing, and the throbbing in my left foot seemed to fade away.

I know it's just the first step in a big journey, but it feels momentous. It reminds me of a verse our pastor read this morning: "Do not despise these small beginnings, for the Lord rejoices to see the work begin." (Zechariah 4:10).

[Draws deep breath here...]

Would you consider partnering with me in this small beginning? You can visit my participant page HERE to make a donation or to join our team. I'd love to have company on my training walks, and another buddy to walk with our team when the big day arrives.

One more request: Could you please pray that God will help me reach my fundraising goals? And please pray for Laura and her family!

Cake!...And Pads

Okay, so I initially promised Bill that I wouldn't blog about this experience, but how could I not?? I've had so much fun and laughed so hard that I just had to share. Guys, I'll give you the same warning I gave you the last time I wrote about pads: feel free to bail out at any time.

A couple of years ago, while I was researching the benefits of cloth diapers, I stumbled across something online that made me laugh until I cried. It was positively ludicrous, and I couldn't believe these people were for real. They were selling.... reusable menstrual pads! I thought the whole idea was so hilarious that I printed out some information on it and mailed it to a friend as a joke.

I did decide to try the cloth diapers, though, and absolutely loved them. They were so comfy and soft and cute, and they saved us tons of money. Also, all of Allyson's battles with diaper rash ended abruptly when we put her in cloth diapers. I was surprised to find that washing the diapers was really no big deal. I just soaked them in the washer, ran them through a cycle, and then fluffed them in the dryer for a few minutes. And then came the part I loved for some reason: hanging them out on the line to dry. I loved seeing those pretty colors flapping in the wind, and every time I did a load of diapers I felt so happy about doing a little something for the environment.

But I didn't think about the cloth pads again until I stumbled across them again last week. Bill and I had just started on a budget plan, and suddenly the idea of saving some money every month caused me to take a closer look. The pads looked so incredibly soft, made from soft flannel and fleece. So much nicer than paper! I spent a couple of hours online reading about other women's experiences.  Over and over, I read, "Once you try them you'll never go back to disposables" (which was exactly how I felt once we switched to cloth diapers).

So, I was convinced. There was only one problem: our new budget. The pads ranged in price from about $10 to over $20 each. I was sorely tempted to just order them on my credit card and deal with the bill later, but I'd made a promise to myself and even to God that I would stop making impulse buys--no matter how desperately I might think I needed something.

The next morning, this past Wednesday, we met Gentle, Liam, and Grace for a playdate at McDonald's. While our kids played, I told Gentle, "I just have to tell you about my latest temptation to make an impulse buy. You're not going to BELIEVE what I wanted to buy...."

Her eyes wide with shock, Gentle sputtered, "Sarah, that's crazy!!"

"But you just have to see them!" I persisted. "They look so... comfortable!" I went on to explain that I'd found some patterns that I hoped my mother would be able to make for me. "If only I could sew," I said.

I actually saw the light bulb go on in Gentle's brain. After a moment's silence, she said, "I know how to sew. And this might not be such a bad idea."

I knew she was hooked! One of the things I love about Gentle is that she excels at craftsy projects, and she's so creative and talented with making things. Once I'd planted the idea in her head, she was helpless to resist the challenge. Before we left, I agreed to email her a few links for pad patterns.

By bedtime, she had emailed a link of her own and a picture of some patterns she wanted to try. I replied, "I'm so tickled that you're on board with me on this. AND EVEN MORE EXCITED THAT YOU CAN SEW! You're probably the only girl I know that would be game to try something so off the wall. I'm excited too! Maybe we could arrange an outing to the fabric store tomorrow! You know, things like these are urgent. Just can't wait too long. ;-)"

Now Gentle is a very busy mom of a toddler and a preschooler, and she's also very organized. So I figured there was no way she'd be able to head to the fabric store on such short notice. But she was fired up! She called me on Thursday morning to arrange our shopping trip for that afternoon. Her husband was home with the kids, so it was just her, me, and Allyson.

We walked all over the store looking for 100% cotton batting (quilt stuffing), poly fleece, and a waterproof fabric called PUL (polyurethane laminated fabric). Several times we had to ask for help, and we were very evasive. Yes, the batting had to be 100% cotton, we said. One sales clerk surmised, "Oh, you must be wanting to make something organic. Here's what you're looking for. A lady came in the other day looking for 100% cotton batting, and she was making a cover for her coffee pot. Are you doing something like that?"

"Yes, organic is good," I replied, avoiding eye contact. "Thank you so much."

Next we tried to find the PUL, but as we weren't even sure what it looked like, we were soon asking for help again. We asked a different employee this time, and her answer was, "What?"

"P.U.L.," I said.

"Or maybe it's 'pull'," Gentle said.

The lady gave us a blank stare. "It's a waterproof fabric," I explained.

A couple of customers who were passing by jumped into the conversation. "Oh, you mean that stuff you make raincoats with," one said. "It's up front," the other gestured, pointing the way. "They call it pleather," the second lady added.

As soon as our backs were turned, I whispered, "Yes, that's it. We're making pleather raincoats." And I giggled at the idea of wearing a pad made of pleather. Gentle stared straight ahead and walked purposefully behind the clerk.

When we got to the right aisle, the clerk still wasn't sure which fabric was the PUL. She showed us rip-stop canvas, which would probably be waterproof, but also rather noisy. Gentle tried to give a bit more detail without being too specific. "You know how you can make a purse with a window for a photo on it? And you can throw the purse in the wash? We're looking for something flexible and light and washable."

"Oh," the lady said. "I think we have something like that back here."

We trailed behind her, and though I avoided Gentle's eyes, I still couldn't stop snickering. She showed us something that looked like clear see-through red plastic. "It's not too clear, though," she said apologetically.

"Oh, it doesn't necessarily have to be clear," Gentle said, and the poor clerk looked extremely confused. So we were making a photo purse but we didn't care if the photo window was transparent??

"We'll just keep looking around," Gentle said.

Back at the rip-stop canvas aisle, I discovered a tiny label on one of the bolts of pleather, which came in an array of pretty colors. "Look! It says PUL!" I said. But then I read the care instructions: wipe with a damp cloth. "Maybe it's not washable," I said, crestfallen.

While we hemmed and hawed, yet another saleslady came along. Without consulting Gentle, I took matters into my own hands. It was time for a more direct approach. "Excuse me," I said, leaning in close and cupping my hand around my mouth. I could feel my face burning, and I could barely speak around the laughter that spilled out. "We're making.... p-pads!"

"Oohh," the lady said.

"And we need something called PUL. That's PUL over there, but we need to know, is it washable?"

"Oh, yes! Lots of women buy that for cloth diapers. So it has to be washable." She smiled encouragingly. "What a great idea. If you're ever back in the store, you'll have to tell me how it goes!" 

At last, we carried our 100% cotton batting, pale pink PUL, and fuchsia poly fleece to the fabric counter. Thankfully, the woman who cut the cloth showed no interest in our matching fabrics. The lady at the checkout, however, was a little more nosy.

"What craft project are you girls making?" she asked cheerily. I was tempted to say, "Raincoats," but Gentle answered first. "Just some crazy stuff." She finished in a voice that was barely over a whisper. "It's too embarrassing." I wonder what that lady's imagination came up with. She must have thought we were a couple of kooks. (We are, I know!)

I had a feeling that Gentle would be up all night making a prototype, and she probably was. On Friday she sent a series of photos documenting her progress.

Layers for Main Pad

Layers for Insert

Man, I wish I could sew!

So yesterday we had our first pool party (more on that later). After everyone else had left, I had to tell my sister Emily all about our scheme. Her initial reaction was the same as Gentle's had been. "So Gentle wants to make menstrual pads?" she repeated.

"Well, it was actually my idea," I clarified. "But she's on board with it!"

"So you're the mastermind."

Bill rolled his eyes. "I don't know if mastermind is the right word."

"I just couldn't deal with it," Emily said. 

Her husband Paul shocked me by saying, "Hey, why not? It's no different than cloth diapers."

"Exactly!" I agreed.

"I couldn't deal with cloth diapers either," she said.

"Yes, but you never tried them," I reminded her.

I kept extolling the virtues of cloth pads--which I've yet to try, mind you--until I'd almost won her over.

"If Gentle can sew so well, she should start her own business," Paul said.

"Yes, maybe she should!" I agreed.

Emily told me then that she plans to take some cake decorating classes, and then she wants to start her own business.

"You could start a business together," Paul said.

"A sisters' business! And I know just the name for it." I said, laughing until tears rolled down my cheeks. "We'll call it Cake!... And Pads."

I'm not sure anyone else thought it was so amusing. I'm sure Bill was trying to avoid encouraging me. But I was still laughing as we walked them out into the cool night air. "Remember, Cake!... And Pads."

Paul said we should get a business plan together.

I emailed Emily the pictures, and she really liked the design. "Paul says you should definitely market these," she said. And she hasn't even gotten to feel the cushy softness yet. Today I went over to Gentle's and caressed the prototypes. I can't wait to try them out!

Liner and Insert

And then there are the circle pads. Aren't they cute?

Okay, enough about pads already. But seriously... want to buy some?

It's Like God Sent Them to Us

Okay, here's the happy story I've been saving for about two weeks now...

On Wednesday the 9th, I was feeling pretty blue on the way to the office, so I called my dear friend Gentle, who never fails to lift my spirits. Sure enough, she had many encouraging words, including a scripture she'd found during her Bible study that morning. She said she thought of me when she read it, and she prayed it over me. Here was the verse:

Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid or terrified because of them, for the LORD your God goes with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you. (Deuteronomy 31:6)

In that moment, I felt pretty courageous. But with the distractions of work, I soon forgot about the verse. While I was driving home, Gentle called and told me she had a surprise for me, something she'd made. She was laughing with delight, but she wouldn't give me even a hint of what it was. Of course, I swung by her house immediately.

Here's what I found:

God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, courage to change the things I can,
and wisdom to know the difference.

My eyes filled with tears when I saw the plaque she had hand lettered in beautiful colors. Just that morning, I'd mentioned being moved by the Serenity Prayer at Celebrate Recovery, and she wanted me to have a daily reminder. So she just whipped out this little masterpiece! (It's now hanging over my desk, so I can look at it all during my work day.)

I was in high spirits when I brought Allyson home from school. As usual, Allyson scampered to the mailbox. "What are these?" she asked, holding out two cardboard cylinders.

"I don't know," I said. "I didn't order anything. Hmm... But these do have my name on them." After a moment's thought, I concluded that they must be some sort of inspirational posters from work, nothing to get excited about--not that I don't need inspiration, mind you.

Inside, we threw everything on the floor and went straight to the kitchen table with the tubes. "Open them, Mama!" Allyson said. I was already struggling to pry the lid off of the first canister.

Inside was a wall decal imprinted with a scripture. Can you guess what it said? I bet you can. Yep, it was another sacred echo, the coolest yet!

Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged,
for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go. (Joshua 1:9)

Of course, I thought of Gentle. I initially thought this was the same verse she'd read me that morning, but then I realized that her verse was from Deuteronomy, while this one was from Joshua. Still, Gentle knew I wanted to plaster my walls with scriptures, and this was just the sort of thing she would do.

I fired off a text: "Did you send me scripture decals? I got two. One is the verse about being strong and courageous."

Her answer set my heart thudding. "No!!"

What were the odds that God would lay a verse on Gentle's heart for me in the morning, and on the very same afternoon the same message would mysteriously land in my mailbox? I'm thinking God really wants me to get the message: Don't be afraid! I'm always with you!

Allyson and I practically danced a jig with excitement. "Who could have sent them?" I said over and over.

"It's kind of nice not knowing," Allyson said. "That way it's like God sent them to us."

"Well, I'm sure He did, honey."

When I opened the second canister, I had an idea who my angel might be; over breakfast the previous Saturday, I'd told my friend Jenny that the first verse I wanted to put up in my house was Joshua 24:15.

I emailed Jenny, and she fessed up. What an incredible gift! I will feel both her love and God's every time I look at those scriptures.

Here's the ironic thing. After reading the meticulous directions, I was decidedly un-courageous about putting them up on the wall. One wrong move, and a decal could be wrecked. So I called for reinforcements. Gentle has lots of experience with wall decals, and she was happy to help--okay, to do it all while I stood by and prayed that the letters would stick.

Gentle and Her Helper

I think it took almost an hour. The end result was flawless:

I'd like to conclude with the full Serenity Prayer. Previously, I'd been familiar with only the first part. I love every word of it, and I'm trusting God to help me put it into practice.

God grant me the serenity
To accept the things I cannot change;
Courage to change the things I can;
And wisdom to know the difference.
Living one day at a time;
Enjoying one moment at a time;
Accepting hardships as the pathway to peace;
Taking, as He did, this sinful world
As it is, not as I would have it;
Trusting that He will make all things right
If I surrender to His Will;
So that I may be reasonably happy in this life
And supremely happy with Him
Forever and ever in the next.
Amen.
(Emphasis added... the parts that make me cry)

Still Rejoicing

Yesterday morning, Gentle and I woke up around 4:45 to cram all our stuff, including air mattresses and sleeping bags, into our duffle bags. Then we had to figure out how to tear down the tent and stuff it into its impossibly tiny bag. Luckily Gentle has a lot more patience than I do.

We had breakfast, put on considerably fewer layers than the two prior days, and lined up to board a bus to the drop-off point for the day.

Fellow Walkers

As I took those first few steps on my aching feet, the hours stretched long ahead of me, but then I glimpsed the hat of the woman in front of me:

"Be strong and take heart, all you who hope in the LORD"

The first tears of the day welled up. I could have kissed that stranger. Instead, I laid a hand on her shoulder. "Thank you," I said. "I really needed that verse this morning."

The morning was pleasant. I savored the breeze on my bare arms and legs, but I didn't like the look of the heavy gray sky. I politely asked God if He'd mind holding back the rain for us, but told Him I'd praise Him and rely on Him to help us through it either way.

We walked through a gorgeous neighborhood, Highland Park, where I had an aching longing to walk on the cushy grass instead of the hard sidewalk. But I stayed on the straight and narrow (most of the time). Ah, that grass felt so good when I had to step aside to pass or be passed.

Around mile five I started feeling a telltale hot spot on the ball of my left foot. I sat down in some of that cushy grass and applied another strip of moleskin. At the next rest stop, I added yet another strip. But apparently I missed the target by about a millimeter because by the last pit stop, I had my very first blister! Nooooo!!!

Sorry, Couldn't Help Myself. Can You See It? 

Gentle gave me a blister band-aid and I put on two more strips of moleskin over top of it, right up to the base of my toes. Those last five miles hurt so much more knowing there was a blister there.

More than ever, I relied on the love and support of the spectators to give me the courage to keep walking. I was thankful for:

• The passing sweep vans with their crazy decorations and loud music. (They continually circled to pick up exhausted and injured walkers who needed a lift.)
• The "walker stalkers," friends and family who shadowed the route to give out Kleenex, gum, handi wipes, and even champagne to not only their own walkers but to anyone else who passed by. 

The Craziest Walker-Stalkers

• The neighborhood residents who handed out donuts and kolaches and thank-yous.
• The double rows of encouragers at each cheering station.
• The safety crew members who told us how many miles to the next stop as they helped us across the intersections.
• The amazingly kind and supportive Dallas officers who worked the biggest intersections. I was moved to tears by one officer who told us about his wife, a ten-year survivor. 
• The costumed dogs that never failed to make me smile. 

• The inspiring words and scriptures on posters, on the backs of T-shirts, and on signs pinned to backpacks. 

• The fact that the rain held off until we entered the grounds of the closing ceremony site (Fair Park). Thank you, thank you, God!
• The constant company of my sweet friend Gentle.

Manicure by Gentle, Gloves from Bill's Mom

I think Gentle was hurting about as bad as I was, or maybe worse. I don't know if I ever told that you she broke her toe about five weeks before the walk. She was supposed to be in her boot until just before the event, but she was able to take it off and resume training the last couple of weeks. Still, she missed about a month of crucial training, so I was amazed at her fortitude. We praise God that He healed her toe and gave her the strength to keep walking.

We walked the last two miles mostly in silence. I tried to take in all the sights around me and enjoy those last steps even though my feet were NOT HAPPY AT ALL. Still, I knew I would be sorry for the journey to end. 

Periodically we were forced to speak when people questioned us about our Five Finger Shoes. On the first two days, we raved about them: "Yes, we've been wearing them the whole way. Yes, they are quite comfortable. No, they don't provide any support or cushioning; that's the whole point. No, we don't have any blisters." 

Mine on Left, Gentle's on Right

But by the end of day three, our typical answer was. "Fabulous. Just fabulous." 

I really was amazed that my tired feet could support themselves without all the padding of traditional shoes, and that in fact I seemed less sore and less blistered than the other walkers. I think if your arches can support themselves for 60 miles, you really don't need expensive, high-tech shoes. God is the most ingenious designer!

But I digress.... One of my favorite crossing guards, a Harley rider who always greeted us with a giant grin, warned us about the finish line: "You WILL cry." 

I figured I would, but I wasn't prepared for the onslaught of emotion as I walked the last 300 yards or so. On either side, families and other walkers who'd finished earlier shouted and clapped and grabbed our hands. "Way to go! You did it! Thank you for walking!" 

I looked left and right, wishing Laura could be there to fold us in a group hug as she'd planned. I wanted her there walking beside me, taking in all this praise that I didn't deserve. She was the real hero! I remembered one of my favorite pictures of her crossing the finish line at Susan G. Komen Race For the Cure:

As I pictured that amazing grin, my happy tears turned into sobs. It was the kind of crying you don't really want to share with strangers, ugly and snotty and embarrassing. 

I wasn't sure why I was crying. I was overwhelmed by joy, triumph, relief, sorrow, exhaustion, and loss. Just when I thought I couldn't bear another moment, a woman stepped out of the line on my left and pulled me into a tight hug. I clung to her for several seconds, wiped away my tears, and raised both arms in triumph as I crossed into the holding area. 

As we paraded up to the closing ceremony, I strained to spot my family in the crowd, but there were just too many people. Bill did catch a glimpse of me, though. When I met them in the baggage recovery area, I was delighted to see that my mom had come along. I squeezed them all tight and then trudged a long, long way to the car, chattering the whole way. 

At home I was thrilled to find a welcome home poster on the door, laboriously lettered by Allyson. "Walking for Laura.... 60 miles... 11.... Way to go!... I think you did a good job." In the middle was a darling picture of me and Gentle walking on a long path. 

On the table were six pink roses and a touching card from Bill. Soon after, Bill served us fettucini alfredo--delicious! 

After dinner, he urged me to go up and soak in the tub. I went up to find the (clean) bathtub lined with candles. There was an assortment of bubble baths and mineral salts, and my robe hung from the towel rack. I felt so loved as I sank into that warm water and let the day's aches melt away. 

The bath probably wasn't as relaxing as Bill had envisioned because two minutes into it, Allyson bounded in. "Can I get in with you?" I hesitated for just a moment and then opened my arms. So we soaked together. And splashed. And got water everywhere. But it was all good. I was right where I wanted to be. 

Thank you to everyone for your love and support. I love you guys!

P.S. Before she went home last night, Mom prayed that my blister would heal while I slept and that I would "jump out of bed rejoicing." And that's exactly what happened! I think the blister is gone, but I can't be sure because I can't get the blister band-aid off. (It's crazy sticky!) My feet still hurt, but I don't have any pain where the blister was. I'm still rejoicing. Over everything.  

This Just Might Work!

This post is dedicated to my dear friend Gentle, who inspires me to strive for excellence as a wife and mother. A few months ago, when Allyson and I went over for a play date with her son Liam, Gentle happened to show me their master bathroom.

I commented at how clean her vanity was, and she gestured to the hanging shoe organizer on the back of the bathroom door. She had all of her bathroom supplies neatly tucked into the pockets, which were labeled with little typed cards. There was a place for everything, and everything was in its place!

Gentle confessed that her bathroom counter used to be a jumbled mess, and she just couldn't seem to keep it neat. But ever since she'd hung the shoe organizer, she had never backslid into her old haphazard ways. "You should get one, too!" she suggested.

"Maybe I'll do it," I said halfheartedly.

I was skeptical. For one thing, I secretly doubted that Gentle could EVER have been messy, let alone as messy as me. Her entire house is always impeccably clean even though she's busy chasing after a toddler all day (and now a new baby, too).

Secondly, I just couldn't imagine letting go of my slovenly habits. On the whole, I try to keep our house presentable, and there are certain things that I won't tolerate, like pee on or around the toilet. (Keeping up with the pee has been a daily chore ever since Ethan started standing up to pee. Before I married Bill, I let Ethan believe that everyone peed sitting down, but when Bill joined the household, he said it was just WRONG to make a 5-year-old sit down to pee. Now, I think he regrets saying anything.)

Anyway, I try to be a good housekeeper, but our gargantuan bathroom counter is the one area that I completely ignore unless we're having overnight company--to whom we usually relinquish the master suite while we sleep on the pull-out couch that used to be remarkably comfortable but now is remarkably lumpy. Here's what our vanity usually looks like (if not worse):


What you can't see in the photo--because the digital camera was dead and I had to use the video camera--is the hair all over the place. The reason I never clean it is that it's too much trouble to put away/move all the junk on the counter so that I can wipe it all off. So the hair builds up, along with the paraphernalia, until I either can't stand to look at it another minute or until we have company coming.

Ever since I'd seen Gentle's sparkling vanity, I'd been hearing her voice in my head each time I looked in disgust at my own bathroom. She actually asked me a couple of times whether I'd bought my shoe organizer yet, but I told her I hadn't gotten around to looking, and then I guess we both thought I'd never follow through.

A couple of weeks ago, Bill's parents came for a visit, and the vanity stayed clean for ten whole days (because I wasn't using it)! "Man, it would be nice if it was clean like this all the time," I thought.

So I decided that my Memorial Day weekend project would be to buy a shoe organizer and get rid of all the clutter. I found a natural colored canvas one at Bed Bath and Beyond for $14.95. First, I hung it on the bathroom door and put all the items that I use frequently into the slots. I tried to put the dangerous stuff like hairspray at the top, and the most frequently used stuff in the middle. The more obscure objects, like band-aids, went on the bottom.

Next, I typed up labels on business card paper using a large font. I laid the organizer out on the floor and pinned each label, from the back, with a safety pin. That was a little tricky until I figured out the right angle. I only stuck myself once, and I managed to avoid getting a blood stain on the crisp new fabric.

This is how it looked after Bill helped me hang it back up:





















And here's how the vanity looked after I polished the counters and washed the mirrors:


Now if we could just replace the giant mirrors with three smaller, ornate mirrors and get rid of the 90s garden wallpaper, I would actually like the bathroom! In any case, it's a vast improvement.

I proudly showed Bill how to use the new system. He eyed the clean counter dubiously. "It might work," he offered.

It's now been four days, and I'm proud to report that the counter still looks as clean as it did on Sunday. Each time I drop the brush or contact solution or moisturizer into its pouch, I mentally pat myself on the back. Who knew that keeping the counter clean could be so fun?

The best part is that, because everything I use regularly is readily accessible, I almost never have to venture into this dark cavern any more:


You may recall that this cabinet was part of a recent misadventure--I was looking for sanitary supplies, which were the only things NOT in this cabinet. Incidentally, guess what I found in my laptop case yesterday when I was frantically searching for my cell phone charger? Yep, the mother lode of pads and tampons. Now why didn't I think to look in the laptop case?

As I rummaged through this scandalously messy cabinet on Sunday, I contemplated buying the canvas totes that match the shoe organizer. I could type up some more labels and.... Ugh. Maybe next month!

Beautiful Plans For Me

Please forgive me, but this is going to be a long post. The story has been unfolding for weeks, and there's so much to tell you....

After much prayer and a lot of agonizing, I decided several months ago to let Bill buy me out of the house and then buy something smaller. After that decision came months of waiting because I couldn't find a lender who would even talk to me while I was in the process of divorce.

On the advice of my sister Amy, I wrote down all of the things I needed and wanted in a house, prayed over the list, and stored it away in a tiny prayer box she had given me for my birthday in April. She assured me that God would give me the desires of my heart, but I have to admit I was a little skeptical regarding the list; it was very specific and had things that weren't that important in the scheme of things. For example, I really wanted a gas stove because it's so much easier to control the temperature when you're simmering soups and sauces. But isn't it a little silly to think of choosing a house based on how easily I can simmer a soup?

Anyway, I put that list away and continued to pray whenever I thought about my impending move, which was pretty often. Meanwhile, I watched the market closely through an online search my Realtor, Kim, had set up for me. There weren't many houses that were both in my price range and within Allyson's elementary attendance zone. Now and then, I'd fall in love with a house only to watch it sell within as little as 24 hours. Each time, I was crushed. I finally got smart and swore off online real estate until I could get pre-approved for a mortgage. Still, I looked at the for-sale signs in the neighborhood and tried not to worry about whether there'd be a house available when I was ready to buy.

I turned a corner in June, on the night I went for last-day-of-school ice cream with Allyson, Ethan, and Bill's family. Afterward, I had severe cramps from the ice cream, but because Bill's parents were coming to dinner the next evening for Allyson's birthday, I forced myself to mop the floor even though I couldn't even stand up straight. About halfway through the floor, I spontaneously started praying and praising. I didn't think about it or decide what to pray about, just let the words flow out of me. I thanked God first for the house he had picked out for us. I praised Him because I knew he had me in mind when that house was built. "I know you will amaze me, God," I prayed.

Next, I asked for God's blessings on my current house and everyone who will live in it in the future. I asked for God's presence to hover here, and that the house will be filled with peace. With tears streaming down, I thanked God for all the love and laughter and life in this house over the last ten years: all the birthdays, game nights, Mother's Days, Father's Days, and especially my 40th birthday party.

Last, I asked God to help me let go of any resentment and insecurity. I asked Him to help me be happy that Allyson and Ethan will still be able to swim in the pool and that Allyson can keep her lovely room when she's here with Bill. I asked Him to make me gracious and kind, like Jesus. I had such joy, completely unexpected! As I put away the mop, I even realized that my stomach ache had gone away.

It wasn't until last Sunday that I could actually start looking at houses. That evening we viewed three houses. The one I was most excited about needed too much work, and the other one I liked appeared to have foundation damage. Ethan and Allyson really liked the third house, but I wasn't fond of it, mainly because it was an older house and I didn't like the kitchen. For the next several days, Allyson hounded me relentlessly, trying to sway me.

It was a cute house, offered at a good price, and it had a new roof, new air conditioner, and all new energy-efficient windows. It also had a lot of beautiful flowers, and a place for my desk--two items from my list. But when I prayed about it that evening, I said, "God, I'm not amazed."

I took a second look on Monday, this time taking my friend Gentle and her children along. Her sweet daughter Grace, age four, had been praying faithfully over my house search, so I was tickled that she could be there. Gentle could see the potential in the house, but she also spotted some little problems I hadn't noticed.

That evening, I had a wonderful prayer time with Allyson. Both of us surrendered what we wanted to God and simply asked for His will. Allyson prayed a memory verse from her recent vacation Bible school. "God, you told us to go everywhere and share the gospel with every creature [Mark 16:15],"she said. "Our new neighbors are God's creatures. Please put us in a house where we can share the gospel with someone who doesn't know you, or if they do know you, help them know you better."

That night I could hardly sleep because I was so excited, not about the house search, but about what God was doing in our hearts. During the night, I woke up praising God. "It just keeps getting better and better," I said. "God, I AM amazed."

In the morning, I asked fervently for clear guidance. All I heard was one word: "Wait."

"Wait for what?" I asked. "Do I wait for you to change my heart regarding this house? Or do I wait for another one?"

"Wait."

That night, I started thinking about improvements I could make, and I found myself a little excited over the prospect. Before bed, I fell to my knees in my closet. "Lord, I don't want to get carried away by excitement. I think you told me to wait, not to buy this house, but I'm not sure that's what you meant. I don't want to be disobedient. I know you said to wait, but how will I know what I'm waiting for? I need a sign--not just a sign, but a billboard."

I opened my Bible to Proverbs, looking for some wisdom, but there was nothing specific. I prayed, "Lord, you said I could ask for wisdom, and you would give it generously [James 1:5]. I need wisdom now."

I then opened the Bible at random, and my eyes fell on this verse:

This is what the LORD says -- your Redeemer, the Holy One of Israel: I am the LORD your God, who teaches you what is best for you, who directs you in the way you should go. (Isaiah 48:17)

I heaved a sigh of relief as the weight lifted from my shoulders. I didn't have to figure all this out! God would make it clear to me.

First thing in the morning, I went to my online search to see if the old house was still available. It was, but now there was another house on the list. My heart sped up as I viewed the pictures. It was on a gorgeous lot shaded with mature trees (list item), and it was on a cul-de-sac right across from the park and within sight of Allyson's school.

And look at that kitchen. Oh, those windows! I'd have a view of the beautiful yard while I washed dishes. And was that a gas stove? Yes!

I made an appointment to view the house at 3:00, and Gentle agreed to meet us. Shortly before the appointment, I sat in a waiting room and cried out to God, in a whisper. (Have you ever done that?) "God, I am desperate for you right now. I need to hear your voice. I'm so afraid of making a mistake."

Immediately, I felt a calmness settle over me as the Holy Spirit reminded me of the verse I'd found the night before, that He would direct me in the way I should go. I felt Him telling me, "You don't need to be desperate. I want to speak to you. I will lead you."

Gentle, Allyson, and I arrived a few minutes early, so we took the liberty to walk around the grounds. It was so much better than I had imagined that I found myself literally clutching my heart. "Oh, Gentle!" I said. "I can't get my hopes up."

I had to catch my breath when I spotted the flowering bush (another list item) in the backyard--the very pink flowers I always admire and thank God for on my walks. I remembered the whispered prayers: "Oh, if I could have flowers like that at my new house." But always I would think, "I can't expect all these little things."

The inside of the house was just as beautiful, with lots of big windows and high, angled ceilings. As if all this weren't enough, Allyson fell in love too. She exclaimed over every room, every storage closet. Gentle told me later that I should have seen her face, grinning at each new room as if we were touring a mansion. "You were floating up above all the rest of us, so you didn't see," she said.

When I saw the master bath, I all but floated up to heaven. It wasn't the design, for it was pretty close to what I have in my current house, down to the dated brass fixtures and shower trim. No, it was God's voice all but shouting to me there. Over the garden tub was a scripture plaque with a verse my Aunt Sue had sent me in a card when I was mired in despair over my dying marriage.

May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit. (Romans 15:13).

"This feels like a sign," I said, tears pricking my eyes. A moment later, Gentle touched my arm and pointed to another scripture plaque in the alcove for the toilet.

"For I know the plans I have for you," declares the LORD, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future." (Jeremiah 29:11)

This familiar scripture had never had a personal meaning for me until Gentle wrote it out for me on a note card; I think this was when Bill and I separated. I put it on my refrigerator, where I see it nearly every day. Both the promise and her familiar, flowing script bring me comfort. Likewise, the Romans 15 verse gives me hope whenever I'm working; I copied it onto a sticky note and stuck it to my computer.

As I looked at those two precious verses, side by side, tears filled my eyes. "Guys, I think this is my billboard," I said, wiping my fist across my eyes. In that moment, I knew without a doubt that this was my new home. I didn't hesitate to make a full-price offer right on the spot.

Kim said there were multiple offers, and she suggested writing a letter to the sellers explaining what the house would mean to me and my family. I'd never heard of such a thing, but I almost laughed with delight. To think I might earn my dream house through a writing contest! Had it been anything else, say a cornhole tournament or a Frisbee golf game, I would've been worried. But I had this one covered.

I went right home and poured out my heart in a letter. I told this stranger named Keely all about my list and the gas stove and the pink flowers and the garden. I told her how God had comforted me with those verses in the past months and how I recognized them as my billboard.

Allyson wrote a letter, too, and it was so sweet I knew there was no way they could refuse her. She said:

I love your house. You have done a great job on your garden and plants. In your backyard, I saw a lizard, your turtle, and a squirrel. I will pray that you and your family will find a nice house just like I know my family will. Me and my mom visited some houses and one of them I thought no other house could beat. But your house did! You were blessed with a very nice house. May God bless your family in many other ways....  

Here's the turtle she referred to, which I think is actually a tortoise. Kim almost screamed when she first saw it walking toward us; she had mistaken it for a rock.

It Was 2 or 3 Feet Long

I floated through the rest of that day, absolutely certain that God had given us this house. I couldn't stop smiling over the extravagance of the pink flowers. I felt like a blushing bride, cherished by her husband. The next morning, July 4, I woke up feeling peaceful and serene. All morning I waited for the call, but it didn't come. The owners had said they'd make a decision by 4:00, but I didn't expect it would take that long, for how could they resist Allyson's sweet letter?

At 2:00, Allyson and I set off for Austin with my sister Amy. By then I was feeling pretty blue. Obviously they had received a higher offer, and now they must be agonizing over whether to accept mine. When 4:00 came and went, I was convinced they had rejected our offer. Since it was a holiday, I figured their Realtor would have notified only the winning bidder, and the also-rans would be contacted the next day.

My other sister Melody, whom we picked up on the way, gave me great comfort. "Sarah, if that house is yours, nothing will stop you from getting it. And if it isn't the house for you, you don't want it."

I wasn't the only one feeling blue. As we neared our destination, Allyson nestled against me, under my arm. "I really want that house, Mommy."

"I know, baby. Me too. But remember what Aunt Melody said. God is in control. If we don't get this house, he has something better out there for us. It's hard to imagine that, isn't it?" To make ourselves feel better, we prayed for the family of the sellers. The closeness with Allyson was such a treasure in the darkness.

At 8:30 PM, on the way to watch fireworks, I received a text from Kim. "Congratulations. They accepted your offer. Woo-hoo!"

I can't possibly put into words the elation I felt after being so resigned to disappointment. But it was nothing compared to the fun of sharing the news with Allyson, who had ridden in another car. I knelt in front of her in the parking garage, took both her hands, and said, "We got the house!"

The grin that lit up her face then must surely have been the same grin that Gentle had described. I kissed her on both cheeks, and she threw her arms around me. As we walked to the fireworks, fingers entwined, she said, "A day can't get any better than this."

The fireworks seemed all the more exciting given our wonderful news. Despite the July heat, I let her lean her back against my chest. I wrapped my arms around her and swayed with her as we oohed and ahhed over each explosion of light.

Since then, I've been pinching myself to see if this is all really happening to me....

I wish that was the end of the story, but maybe it's not. I got the inspection report tonight, and there are some pretty serious issues, probably bad enough that the house is not insurable without significant repairs. Tomorrow morning I will talk with Kim and see what repairs we will request. I know nothing of the sellers' story, whether they'll be able to afford the repairs. (I certainly can't.) But I feel in my gut that they made a sacrifice for us, that they accepted a lower offer in order to bless us with this house that feels so right for us. So I'm trusting God to work it all out, to help them somehow.

I'm not going to lie to you. I hated to post this entry, not knowing the final outcome. I've been sitting here crying, to tell the truth. But I have to hold on to the message of hope that God sent me, my billboard. Regardless of what might happen with the house, I know God has beautiful plans for me, plans to prosper me and give me hope and a future.

Labor of Love

As usual when I sit down to write, it's getting late and the kitchen is full of dirty dishes. But I've been wanting to write for weeks, and I'm about to have much bigger news to write about, so I'd better tell you all the stuff you might be wondering about now before the old news gets superseded...

We moved into our new house on Labor Day weekend and have been busy settling in ever since. Here's how the boxes looked going in:

And here's how things looked in the middle:

Stuff everywhere.... Love that fireplace!

And now it looks... great! I just haven't had time to take pictures yet. But I promise I will.

Where's the story, you ask? Of course there's a story! It all came together in my head this past Sunday, when I was painting Allyson's room with my sisters Emily and Amy. We worked hard for several hours, having fun talking and laughing at ourselves when we got paint on our hands, feet, and butts and in our hair, too. Amy and I used the rollers while Emily meticulously cut in with the brush. Meanwhile, Dad and Emily's husband Paul hung a big iron mirror, and then Paul and Mom broke down all the boxes I'd been collecting in the garage.

By the time we finished dinner (which included lentil sloppy joes, yum!), it was after 9. When I thanked everyone profusely for the tenth time, Emily replied, "I was happy to do it. It was a labor of love."

A labor of love. I grinned as I realized that phrase truly describes my move, from start to finish. So many people have demonstrated their love through their hard work:

• It started with Gentle, who single-handedly packed just about everything I own over the course of several visits. She was happy to do it! 
• As soon as the house was officially mine, Gentle helped me carry the first big load of boxes and helped me get started unpacking the kitchen. Oh, that kitchen! For the first time in my adult life, I have a place for absolutely everything. It's glorious. But I digress.
• Two days after closing, my friends Jana and Tammy and Tammy's 16-year-old son Jimmy helped me move all the rest of the boxes and our clothes in the sweltering heat. It was evening, but it was still near 100 degrees (38 Celsius). These are my newest friends, yet they were happy to come at the end of a long, hot day.
• On the moving day, Mom and Dad, my brother Rick, and my brother-in-law Paul helped with the big stuff. I had hired moving help, but there was plenty to do.
  
  On a side note, I have to tell a couple stories from moving day. The youngest helper seemed very inexperienced, and it was stressful to hear the other two snapping at him, "No, don't do that! No, do it this way." When we arrived at the new house, the glass storm door wouldn't stay open, so the new guy propped it open with one of my decorative wooden crosses! One of his coworkers immediately corrected him, but Paul quipped, "Hey, that's the power of the cross."
  
  Despite my concerns, nothing broke in the move except a screw for my bed frame. You can imagine my family's amusement when I ran next door to the neighbor man "for a screw." Speaking of the neighbors, they are so wonderful. This neighborhood is amazing. People just congregate in each other's driveways and chat. And they are very happy to help with anything I need and to let me borrow stuff. And Allyson plays with the neighborhood kids for hours at a time, riding her scooter around the cul-de-sac. We couldn't be happier.
  
  Anyway, back to the list...
  
• Mom, Dad, and Amy worked tirelessly with me on Labor Day--doing labor, how fitting--to clean Bill's house top to bottom. It was back-breaking work that ended up giving me a stiff neck, but there were treasures in it. I learned lots of great cleaning tips from Mom, and I also learned that I rather enjoy spring cleaning, even in the summer. I particularly enjoyed vacuuming the blinds. Also, Allyson was a big help, and Grandma was so impressed with her that she gave her $5. The next day, Mom and Dad came back out and worked for several hours more with me. 
• Mom and Dad have come out a few more times to help me hang pictures and get unpacked. Dad also installed a fluorescent light in my Salvation Army desk and put in a mail rack with hooks for my headsets. I love that desk and hope to tell you more about it soon. 
• My friends Gentle and Elizabeth fed me and my family several times while my kitchen was packed up. Elizabeth even fed Mom and Dad, too. 
• My own labor of love is everything to do with organizing. I've developed an (expensive) habit of buying all manner of gadgets. Like this stuff to untangle the rat's nest of cords behind my beloved desk:

• And last on the list is sweet Jenny.... 

Back in the summer, I was praying about finding affordable furniture for Allyson, and Jenny told me to keep an eye out for garage sale finds. She assured me that she could make just about anything look beautiful. It turns out that I didn't have to buy a thing. Emily passed down a dresser that her girls had inherited from Rick's daughter Mindy. It needed a lot of work, to say the least. Allyson was not impressed.

Next, I found this desk the side of the road one morning while driving Ethan to school. I was so exhausted that I missed my turn, and then another turn. It's as if God led me right to this beauty.

Even when it looked like this, I could see the potential. I drove back for it after dropping Ethan off, and I was amazed that someone would throw away such a solid piece. This was no cheap Walmart desk. I tried to get it into the trunk of my tiny Sentra, but there was no way. I said a quick prayer and then took out the drawers, unscrewed the bottoms of the legs, and wrestled that desk into the backseat, with one end hanging out the open window. When my neighbor helped me unload it later that day, she asked me how on earth I got it in there by myself. "Divine intervention," I answered. 

As you might guess, Allyson liked this item even less than the desk And she was about as unhappy to be inheriting Ethan's old bed, which was perfectly good and only a couple of years old but very plain. I told her not to worry, just to trust God that Ms. Jenny would be able to make it all look beautiful in her ocean-themed room. And oh, did she! Allyson and I were so delighted with the finished furniture that we just about cried. Okay, I probably did cry. During bedtime prayers that night, Allyson put her thoughts into words beautifully: "Lord, I thought that stuff was all just junk. I had no idea it could all be so beautiful." 

Isn't that just like God, to take junk and make it beautiful? 

Would you like to see the furniture? Sorry, I'm not going to show it to you yet, not until we're ready to unveil Allyson's entire room. We still have the orca whale wallpaper border to hang, plus Gentle is making Allyson a cushion for her window seat. For now, I will just show you this inscription that Jenny put on the back of the dresser. We didn't discover it until we pulled the furniture out to paint the walls a week ago:

Hand-painted for Allyson - 2013

Even the winds and the waves obey Him! Matt 8:27

I cried when I saw the ocean-themed verse. I'd needed that reminder that I could rest in God's powerful hand. 

Speaking of free furniture, I have to tell you about my easy chair. As soon as I knew the house was mine, I started thinking about when I might be able to buy a chair for the sitting area in the master bedroom. "I sure would like a chair," I prayed, "but I know I can't buy everything all at once. Still, if you could help me find a good chair for a great price, I'd really appreciate it." 

A couple of days later, I decided to take a break from packing. I left Gentle with a bunch of boxes in my kitchen and drove my niece Hillary to Sonic for some drinks. (Gentle promised she didn't mind. I think it was easier for her to pack with me out of the way.) On the way back, I naturally had to drive Hillary by the new house. As we approached, I drew in my breath when I spotted a beautiful couch and two matching chairs on the side of the road. "Could they be giving those away?" I asked. "But they're so nice. Mind if I stop and look?"

"Of course not," Hillary said. 

I raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure? If Ethan were in the car, he'd be down on the floorboard right now." 

She laughed. "Go ahead." 

I walked all around the three pieces. They were covered in a neutral colored damask fabric that was clean and in very good shape. All I needed was one chair, and I hated to break up the set. But I couldn't pass this up! I debated over whether to take the more elegant wing chair or the comfy easy chair. Comfort won out. [Over the next two days, the other two pieces went. So nothing was wasted. Whew!]

With Hillary's help, I tried to cram that easy chair in my trunk, but of course it didn't even come close to fitting. (This was about two days before I found the desk.) I was afraid to leave the furniture, but it was too hot to sit there and guard it until Gentle could bring her mini van. "Think you could help me carry it to the new house?" I asked Hillary.

"Sure!" 

So we huffed and puffed in the hundred-plus temperature and carried that chair two doors down, across the street, and up the driveway, all in our flip flops. Whew! Here's Hillary hanging out at the new house before it was mine, in my classy lawn furniture:

It looks even better in my bedroom. And every time I sit in it, I think about how much God loves me.

That's the end of the official story, but I have to share a few first-day-of-school pictures before I turn in.

Our Second Grader!

Teen Beach Movie Backpack

First-Day-of-School Ice Cream with Mommy, Daddy, and Ethan

Ethan won't let me take his picture any more

One last thing. Are you wondering about that bigger news I referred to? All I'm going to say is this: It has to do with a cat. Tomorrow. More soon, I promise.