the process of becoming

a blog for twenty-somethings trying to navigate the world and follow your dreams


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a long, mess blog post (like me)

I am beginning to discover things about myself. Things that require a brand new bio (and I am a new creation, even if I struggle to know what that means). I am never permanent. I can’t depend on myself for anything, which is hard to comes to terms with, but it draws me ever closer to the loving embrace of my Father.

But really, without the sugar coating, who am I really?

1. Lover of chocolate, coffee, and tea.

– But I’ve expanded my horizons. Instead of getting excited over Pumpkin Spice Lattes from Starbucks, I crave a ciocolatta calda or a latte macchiato from Martin’s bar back in my little town of San Lorenzo. I miss plain espresso shots, cappuccinos, and hot brioche in the morning. I like coffee shops here in the Cities like Spyhouse, Coffee Grounds, or Common Roots.

2. An avid fan of relationship.

– Since I have been dating for almost 9 months, it has given me lots of time to realize how much I used to judge all the “Northwestern couples” and every single other reference to dating, engagement, and marriage. Now (not to brag, seriously, but), I’ve realized the beauty of a committed relationship, especially the yucky stuff. Really. It’s not easy, so I’ve found myself admiring even more the marriages that have lasted and the relationships that have persevered. And yet, I still remember the pain of being betrayed, heartbroken, and forgotten, so I do not disqualify things that are beyond one’s control. Love, in friendship form as well, is a precious thing.

3. Over-dramatic storyteller who sometimes speaks before she thinks.

– Often in ways that are not good, but it’s simply a trait about me. I can’t stop reacting in fun and silly ways to make life interesting, and I can’t stop my emotions when they want to actually react to disappointing circumstances. My mouth likes to speak faster than my formulating thoughts. I’m working on this.

4.  Struggling writer.

– I go through fruitful times and I go through dry times, sometimes questioning myself, my major, and my career. I have a problem with wanting to be perfect and hating the process of perfection. I like raw reality, because we can’t edit our real lives. Let’s write what actually happens.

5. Christ-follower.

– but if you could even call me that! Honestly, I feel like a terrible representative of Jesus pretty often. Why would someone who knows the Hope of Glory be so depressed sometimes? I sin all the time, and some days I just don’t know what I am doing for Him. Yet there are still times when His Word GLOWS and I get overly excited about the Gospel.

6. Sweater-wearer.

– Winter is important, because sweaters. And blankets. Mittens. Layers and layers, and I can wear big baggy hoodies and zip-ups without being judged.

7. A learning cook.

– I am making progress, but living in a small apartment shared with three other women often dampens my enthusiasm for cooking. Lack of fridge/storage space, FUNDS, good recipes, and time are what get me. Buuuuut it makes it all the more rewarding when I do make food (:

Really. I am a pretty big mess.

But that’s the cool part. That’s why His grace is so important to me. I love the brokenness of life and of people because it is through it that I find His beauty. I am in a theology class right now, discovering more about the character of God and discovering that I will never ever be the perfect college senior I once wanted to be. Many days I just don’t want to be responsible for anything, but He’s working on me!

Things that are on my mind with all this: 

– I want to be a balance of “okay” with a life that is not always okay.

– I don’t want people to expect me to be together all the time, because 89% of the time, I am not! I love it when people sit down at coffee shops or living room floors with blankets in our laps, make eye contact, and ask “how are you really?” and then just listen. I think everyone should write personal essays and then let me read them.

Life is an adventure whether we want it to be or not.

All for now.

In Christ,

Sarah

PS!!!!!  I promise to learn how to keep future blog posts short. Bear with me (:


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remembering, and coming back to… where?

Whoa. Hey. I’m back.

But the question I ask myself is… where, exactly? This blog name is temporary, this post will only be seen by few before even I forget about it, my apartment lease is only for 12 months, I won’t even be a STUDENT anymore come mid-December… oh my gosh, nothing is permanent.

Nothing is permanent.

I will graduate, have to find a new job and a new apartment, write stuff (?), maybe change my marital status, do ministry, expand my family, live in other countries, make a difference….? Such lofty dreams for a 21 year old who feels as fragile as papyrus.

Nothing is permanent except Christ and His glory. That I can take faith in. He promises He won’t change, and He is just – yesterday, tomorrow, today.

Yet I rarely take real and true (as in … tangible, that prevents me from stressing) comfort in the promises of the Bible these days. Now, I don’t know if it’s because I am undergoing so much change, and my limbs are flailing out towards a grip in the midst of foaming rapids, or because I just feel… dry these days, but I’ve been facing a lot of lies. And I really need something to hold on to. My faith is still there, even if I still forget, still worry if my next paycheck will cut it, still worry about the rubble of student loans awaiting me in a few months, still doubt myself to the point of tears on random nights where I should instead be rejoicing.

Life is hard. It’s more than we can handle.

I watched footage of the collapse of the World Trade Center towers today, in remembrance of September 11th, 2001.

My nine-year-old self slept in that day, until right around 9 am. Shortly after finding breakfast, I walked to the downstairs of our small Minnesota-suburb home to start on my schoolwork for that day (this was shortly after my parents started homeschooling me).  I picked up a grammar book (Dad taught grammar and English in the morning before switching with my mom and going to work) just as my dad ran down the stairs and flipped on the TV in front of the couch. And for two hours we did nothing but stare at the screen.

I don’t really remember what emotions were going through my head. I wish I could find my journal entry (I was an avid writer even back then), but I can only see the screen. Falling debris. Ebony smoke rippling into the sky. Ash everywhere. People running. I didn’t understand…

Years later, I can’t remember exactly, the Christian radio station my mom listened to constantly in the car played an audio drama of one man’s phone call to his wife and children from one of the top floors of one of the towers. Mom cried. I cried. I think it wasn’t until then that I felt like I was in the shoes of those who were impacted. I had felt affected before, but that moment stands out in my mind more. I pray for those who lost family members and friends, and I still feel like I’m nine and I’m watching it for the first time. I shocks me every time.

I just finished the book Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close, which made me want to start writing fiction again.

Slowly but surely I am realizing who I am and why and how experiences shape me into this person. But I am also learning about who I want to be. I don’t want to be someone who casually shrugs off what’s happening in this world, but I also can’t be the other extreme of crying over the little things (not spilled milk, but like… similar things. I am such a girl).

Anywho, my heart is heavy today as I write this, for more than the reasons listed, but I have this strange hope I haven’t felt in a long time… like God is answering my prayer to get me out of this desert and make me into a sturdy book instead of a fragile thin sheet. I will wait on Him for as long as it takes… which means my whole life.

This is worth it.

More later. My thoughts are a little scattered right now. But hey… I’m back. To here, at least.