This Gets The Gold

I love me some Olympics.

Joel and I have been snuggled up on the couch each night - rooting for people we don't even know and tearing up when they win.

And have you noticed how every single commercial is also branded with the Olympics? Heaven forbid we just drink a regular Coca-Cola during the broadcast. :-) I'm not mocking it so much as simply enjoying the fact that I am a marketers dream during this time, and here is my favorite commercial so far:



HOW do they do that? How do some people sit around in a conference room and come up with a marketing strategy that will have my eyes well up in less than a minute and ready to buy Tide and Crest?

I'm such a pushover. :-)

3 years - What I've Learned So Far

I am your parent, you are my child
I am your quiet place, you are my wild

I am your calm face, you are my giggle
I am your wait, you are my wiggle



I am your audience, you are my clown
I am your London Bridge, you are my falling down

I am your carrot sticks, you are my licorice
I am your dandelion, you are my first wish



I am your water wings, you are my deep
I am your open arms, you are my running leap

I am your way home, you are my new path
I am your dry towel, you are my wet bath



I am your dinner, you are my chocolate cake
I am your bedtime, you are my wide awake

I am your finish line, you are my race
I am your praying hands, you are my saving grace



I am your favorite book, you are my new lines
I am your nightlight, you are my sunshine

I am your lullaby, you are my peek-a-boo
I am your kiss goodnight, you are my "I love you"


(all excerpts from the book "You Are My 'I Love You'" by Maryann K Cusimano and Satomi Ichikawa)

Come & Receive

If I'm honest, I'll admit that growing up, my Christmas was about 98% Santa and about 2% Nativity.

Make that 99%, 1%.

Between chocolate-filled advent calendars, the latest Toys R Us ads, and wish-lists longer than our fridge, I didn't have much leftover room in my heart or mind for Christ. In fact, the only thoughts I gave Him were selfish/irritated ones that I was born on December 22nd, and wondered why He and I had to share our birthdays so close together.

On Christmas Eve, the classic book we read from was "Twas the Night Before Christmas," and not the chapter of Luke.

The last thing I was thinking about on Christmas morning was a baby in a manger.

**

This may very well be the first year I'm learning to re-orient my mind.

If you've ever found yourself in a similar situation, perhaps I can extend an invitation.

I will be speaking at Lake Sawyer Christian Church this upcoming Friday, December 4th. They have an annual Womens Christmas gathering, and I was honored to be asked to be a part of it this year! A fabulous dinner is included, plus carols and cheesecake.

Most importantly, I'm looking forward to going because this year, I want to have a fresh outlook on this season that we are all so familiar with. I want to see things a little differently than I have in years past. I'm looking for a different kind of joy. Perhaps, together, we can find a new perspective with which to navigate this busy month.

Doors open at 6:15 pm. The theme is "A Gift Worth Giving." Hope to see you there!

Its time for a haircut

I guess you can say I've been a little giveaway happy lately. But with holiday season upon us, can you blame me?

Besides, I think you need a little time to yourself...at Salon Dolche. The name just sounds sweet, doesn't it?

I had my much-needed root touch-up not too long ago at Salon Dolche in Everett and walked away relaxed (and blonde again.) Such a friendly, capable staff.

Plus, I got my husband to go with me and finally get a hair cut. As in finally, I mean I had been asking him for about a month to "please get a haircut" and "would you just get a haircut already" and finally posted on his facebook "Sarah became a fan of Joel getting a haircut" and FINALLY made a dad-gum appointment for him.

So if you win one of these four $25.00 gift cards I'm giving away, then its your choice if you use it for yourself (mmmm, Bumble and Bumble shampoo smells so good...) or someone else in your family who RIDICULOUSLY needs a haircut more than you do.

Enter in the comments section, as always. Drawing is random, as always. I will contact you if you are one of the four winners!

Sarah

PS Salon Dolche is located on Everett Mall Way. www.salondolche.com

Tell Me The Story Again

My first memory of Sunday School must have been around age three. You’re going to think I’m making it up, but the truth of the matter is, the first visual I have was sitting in a circle with other kids my age, watching a kind woman put a piece of felt on a board.

Felt on a board. My first impression of Jesus.

I don’t remember understanding a lick of what this well-intentioned Sunday School teacher said, but I did want to touch the felt.

That was a little church in Bellingham. I don’t have any other memories from that, but I have seen home videos of me dressed up for the Christmas service, singing Jesus songs with a bunch of other kids, up on stage. The home video clearly shows me playing with the boy next to me, who was jumping on the risers, and so I jumped, and then a teacher came to settle us down.

The next memory I have of church came around age 8, when I was in another Sunday School. Because my family did not attend church regularly, my attendance was hit-or-miss. Our neighbor was the one who offered to drive me, and I went because I liked her kids and I liked her family. But once her blue van pulled into the Church parking lot, I felt nervous. We sang songs that I didn’t know, and I sat at a circle table full of kids I didn’t know, listening to a woman talk about verses I didn’t know and didn’t understand. Some kids remembered their Bibles. I did not. Some kids remembered their offering money. I did not. I felt stupid and alone.

I remember thinking my eight-year-old thoughts about God, wondering why He chose to reveal Himself to some people and not to others. How come other 8 year olds knew their Bible verses, and seemed to nod when the teacher spoke? Why did those same kids have more "Awana bucks" than I did to buy candy on Wednesday nights? What was I doing wrong?

**

Now that I am a mother, raising a daughter who is almost of the age where I had my first felt-board memory, I find myself asking God how to introduce Him to Olivia. My hope is that perhaps I can save her from some of those lonely, confused feelings I dealt with as a child when I thought about God.

My main concern is this: How do I differentiate between the stories I tell Olivia about God and Jesus along with stories of Cinderella, Snow White and the Tooth Fairy? How can I help my child grasp that one is fairy tale and the other is absolute Truth? At what age do children understand these things? And if its as early as three, like it was for me, then we are fast approaching that birthday for my daughter and I’m asking God for direction. My prayer sounds like this: “Jesus, how can I introduce You best to her?” When I hear Him whisper back, I hear “model My love.”

**

So, as I consider these things (both here on this blog and alone in my thoughts) I wanted to introduce a Childrens Bible that I’ve heard about from a few different women. Its called The Jesus Storybook Bible and what I like about it is that its not “cutesy.” In other words, there is no felt-board involved. Just clear text that is faithful to the Bible, yet able to capture the attention of children. So far, I’m really enjoying reading it with Olivia at night. Granted, we've only just begun. But this beginning feels good.

And you don’t think I’d tell you about this Bible without giving a few away, do you? Of course not. I have five brand-new Deluxe Edition copies right here at my desk, thanks to Sally Lloyd-Jones, who is a wonderful childrens author and weaves her faith into all her books.

Simply leave a comment (with your contact information) and if you’re one of the five winners, I’ll get a hold of you. I’d love if you’d share in the comments section ways that you are sharing your faith with your children.

Bookmark

I go through seasons of inspiration. When this blog first took form, I was a little over a month away from my due date with Olivia. It was my "baby blog" of sorts, and remained that way for the first year. Then I began to talk about things other than Olivia (gasp!) and found my groove with writing. Of course, we all remember my juicing phase... Well, now I'm in my book phase, if you cant tell. I've got a stack of paperbacks and hardcovers near my night stand. Some are downstairs, some are upstairs, and my husband has mentioned the word "Kindle" to me more than once.

I read books of all sorts, depending on what mood I'm in. Currently in rotation (in no particular order) includes the new Nicholas Sparks "The Last Song," Kathy Griffin "Official Book Club Selection," and "The End Of Overeating" by an author whos name I can't recall at the moment and am too lazy to Google.

My favorite over the past month has been Donald Millers "A Million Miles in A Thousand Years." Perhaps you are familiar with one of his first books, Blue Like Jazz. I'd call this new book somewhat of a follow-up to the first one. For some reason, I connect with his writing immensely and find myself wishing my eyes could move faster and drink in more words so I could turn pages at a quicker pace. And when the book is done, I'm ready for more. If you are even the slightest bit interested in starting even one book, I'd suggest this one.

All this to say, sometimes I'm so busy reading that I forget to blog.

And the next post on here will be about books again, so brace yourself. Only this next post might just be about the most important book there ever was and how I'm learning to read that book in a different way.

Sarah

Fearless

Can you remember a moment in your life where you were the most afraid?

I remember one of mine. A cold, dark January night… alone at Childrens Hospital with 1-year-old Olivia in my arms, her tiny head spiking a fever of 104. The doctors had to give her a steroid shot in her leg because her Strider (a deep cough and inflammation) was so bad. They said the shot would most likely help her, but in some cases it actually made things worse…and could restrict her airway completely if she had an adverse reaction. They told me that if this was the case, they had a “crash cart” in the hallway and were prepared to use it.

A crash cart? For my baby?

They looked at me. I was the decision maker. My husband was not there. I was it.

Yes or no to this shot? JESUS WHAT DO I DO? WHAT IS THE RIGHT ANSWER HERE?

Tears poured from my face as I held Olivia and said yes. I prayed over her out loud as they treated her. “Jesus be with her! Jesus help her!” I can’t remember how loud my voice was, but lets just say it was the voice a mother gets when she is going to battle for her child.

***

Looking back, and knowing that Olivia is totally fine, I have a better perspective and the whole scene seems overly dramatic. But in the moment, I was desperate and afraid.

I mention all this to introduce you to a new book by Max Lucado.



There are only a handful of authors whos books I buy every time a new one comes out… And Max Lucado makes the list.

I’ve always felt like he strings words together in a gentle way… kind of like spoon-feeding me the message of Jesus. Its as if Lucado knows I’m fragile, so he treads lightly.

In his latest book, Fearless, Lucado was able to do what he does best: paint a picture with words, back it up with Scripture, and close each chapter with an “atta girl, you can do it!” attitude. I devour his books like a warm casserole out of the oven...comfort food at its best - yet his chapters come with no calories! Win.

One chapter in Fearless is titled “Fear of Not Protecting My Kids.” I’ve needed this chapter for a long time, because I’m an expert worrier. Lucado, a father of three daughters himself, is quick to acknowledge that the “semitruck of parenting comes loaded with fears…” and then he is gentle when he gives us the answer. Its an answer we already know, but it’s the truth none-the-less: Prayer. I guess I just needed him to remind me...again.

Lucado says that “Prayer is the saucer into which parental fears are poured to cool.” I love that image. This is something I CAN do. I can take my worries and ask God to help me shape them into prayers.

“Parents, we can’t protect children from every threat in life, but we can take them to the Source of life.” Pg 61

There are several other chapters in the book, Fearless, that deal with the Fear of Disappointing God, the Fear of Overwhelming Challenges, and the Fear that God Is Not Real.

And every chapter offers the antidote to fear… and that is faith.

Read on, friends.

(This was my first blog review for Thomas Nelson Publishers. You can review books for them, too! They send you a free copy and you post your review on the blog. Give it a try: Click Here.)