A Little Pizza Thankfulness

What started out as a long-winded joke has turned into something more like a social experiment and I cannot help but share all of the things I'm learning from this experience. By now, if you know me well and follow me on social networking of any kind, you have inferred that I am a lover of pizza. I have been posting about it every single day this month as sort of a "30 Days of Thankfulness Challenge", only a lot more ridiculous.

Y'all know I'm about this.

I was sitting in my friend's apartment at the beginning of this month and joking with her that I wanted to do a thankfulness a day challenge, but, like, with food every day. It would be hilarious. "What if you just did pizza every day?!" she exclaimed. The idea was born and the rest is history. From that day forward I posted a pizza a day (and will continue on until the end of the month). It has never been a jab at others posting things they are thankful for--believe me when I say that I, too, am truly grateful for my friends, family, job, and Savior. This was always meant to be lighthearted and a fun, silly thing for me.

What I never could have anticipated is the many lessons I am learning from this silliness:

1. When you're vocal about something, people notice.

I have just been posting pizza. That's it. Sometimes my caption will have a pun and other times it will just be straight-up creepy, like I am literally romantically in love with food. Whatever makes me laugh at myself, really. Regardless, people are taking notice that this is a daily thing for me. At least once a day somebody, even multiple people that I know, will approach me in person to inquire about the pizza pictures. Mostly their question is, "What the heck, Sarah?". "I just love pizza and I'm super thankful for it," I respond nonchalantly.

People I haven't really spoken to in years have been coming out of the woodwork to ask me what this is all about.

One day when I was having this interaction with an acquaintance of mine it dawned on me--people are just asking about this because I have a "passion for pizza" that exceeds the normal level human beings should have for a food. Most people love pizza, but they just don't talk about it all the time.

Lots of people love Jesus, but they don't talk about that all the time either.

So I found myself challenged by my own thankfulness challenge. What if I posted so passionately about Jesus every single day? Would people notice that, too? I bet they would. When you are loud about the things that change your life, people want to know why... even if it's just pizza.

2. People are attracted to passion.

And it's contagious. I can't tell you how many people have posted on my pictures or said to me in person how hungry I am making them. I'm making myself hungry, too! Since this joke started I have had pizza at least once a week just from the hunger I'm stirring up in myself. A few of my friends have even tweeted or texted me pictures of them and their kids eating a "meal inspired" by my posts.

Others have unfollowed me on social media because of the pizza bombardment.

When you are passionate about something (especially to a fault), people either jump on the wagon or they jump ship. They either get excited about your passion to a point that it becomes theirs or they bail.

I have found this to be true all of my life, especially when I post about the Lord on Facebook. And I do post about Him a lot. When somebody radically changes your life all the time you simply cannot keep quiet about them. This has turned many people away, and that's alright. It has also made people inquire as to why I post so many Bible verses or talk about Jesus so much.

My passion for Jesus, much like my apparent love of pizza, is unfaltering. I'm not sorry about that.

3. What others think about you doesn't matter--what you know is true about you matters.

I am fun-loving and cannot ever remember a day in my life that I haven't laughed. In fact, I live for laughter. If you know me at all you know that one of my favorite things is sharing this joy with others.

Whether or not people get a chuckle out of my pizza posts doesn't matter as much to me as it did when I started this stupid thing. I know for a fact some are thoroughly annoyed by this by now. That's okay too.

It still makes me smile. And I'm gonna keep doing it.

You might think I'm crazy and over-playing this. Those things are both probably true.

But I'm having great fun coming up with these ridiculous captions and finding the most tantalizing pictures I can. Sometimes it's the highlight of my day. Even on a bad day, I'm posting about pizza and for a moment there is joy. On great days it's just icing on the cake.

When I spend time with Jesus it is always the highlight of my day. Even on a bad day, I'm longing to dive in to the word of God and I find joy in His promises. On great days it's just icing on the cake. I will never be sorry for being a joyful, silly, ridiculous child of God, even when others may not understand.

4. Life was not created to be taken too seriously.
If you aren't laughing then you aren't living. Enough said. You do not by any means have to laugh at my posts, but please, for the love of all that is good in the world, laugh at something.
You'll live longer and you'll love better.

5. Your passion becomes your reputation.

I woke up one morning and had a notification that I had been tagged in someone's status on Facebook. I laughed hard when I read that one of my good friends faced a barrage of questions from her kids as to whether or not I had posted about pizza AGAIN that day. I sure had.

This has unpredictably become something that people are EXPECTING of me. I love pizza. I post about it always. It's a joke that makes me laugh more than anything else. But now it's almost as if people are lying in wait to see what I'm going to say about it next. That makes me laugh even harder.

"Oh yeah, Sarah, the girl who obviously loves pizza SO MUCH."
I'm that girl now.
And I do love pizza. Lots. It's yummy.
I have hyperbolized this love to an insane extent.

It has taken less than three weeks for me to become this person built on a cheesy, saucy, doughy reputation. It will be interesting to see what happens when the month is over and the pizza pictures come to an end (only eleven days left, friends).

When this is all said and done I am still going to be posting about the other thing I'm most passionate about--Jesus Christ. Maybe to the extent that people expect it from me. But my one goal has always been to make Him famous and I'm staking my life on the truth I've found in Him.
"Oh yeah, Sarah, the girl who obviously loves Jesus SO MUCH."
That statement is the one that is categorically true about me. 

6. What you talk about most dictates what you really care about most.
People who do not know me at all could look at any of my social media pages for one second and tell you what I care about most. Right now, I'm sure it looks like that's pizza.

What could people infer that you care about most from what you post?
A dislike of your job?
Your kids?
Complaining?
Jesus?

What you put on the internet is permanent. Even when you delete it, records are kept. Screen captures have been taken. I'm sure you have seen many celebrities still get in big trouble for things they have tweeted, facebooked, or instagrammed for only a second and then deleted. But it's too late by then.

I have made a rule for myself about social media. I will never post anything that I might ever regret. I take a tip from Philippians 4:8 on this one: "whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable--if anything is excellent or praiseworthy--think about such things." Post about such things.

I will never ever until the day I die regret posting about my Savior, the things He is teaching me, and the many ways He is changing my life for the better.

So there you have it. Unexpected lessons birthed from utter nonsense. God works everything... EVERYTHING (even stupid pictures of pizza) for His good. You can definitely expect me to post pizza pictures for the remainder of the month, because I'm still smiling about it. I'm still SO THANKFUL for pizza. I just never knew how much this absurd endeavor would affect my views of social media, thankfulness, and passion.

Thanks for hanging in there through the goofiness.

Joy Comes in the Mourning

I remember exactly what she looked like. She was still the same girl I had known, but now she was pale and underweight and her hair was gone. She had a few last strands put up in a ponytail, but by the looks of things those would soon be gone too. She had tubes connected everywhere you can connect them and she was wearing her glasses. She smiled when we walked in and that's what I will always remember most. She was still so beautiful when she smiled.

We brought some fun pajamas and slipper socks so she would be more comfortable in that hospital bed. I remember going around the store picking them out because we had to be sure the jammies opened in the front so the doctors could easily get to all of the tubes on her chest that were hooked up to those loud machines. Small conveniences and comforts in a scary situation.

She went in to see the doctor because of some pain and discomfort she was experiencing and had no idea that she would never be able to leave again. They told her it was leukemia and suddenly everything that I knew to be true and good in the world was turned upside down. She had months left. How could God let something this terrible happen to a thirteen-year-old girl who had done nothing but serve him well and love others?

That day when we as a family went to visit Brittany at the hospital was a totally new experience for me. I had only ever been to hospitals to welcome new babies. They were a joyful place to me. I had never walked into a room so unsure of what to expect but cherishing every second nonetheless. I can't remember everything that we talked about because now this was years and years ago (I was eleven), but I do remember one very important thing--we were laughing. Brittany sat there in her bed and we sat on the floor and in uncomfortable hospital chairs and we laughed. For hours, we laughed.

This young girl with a broken body and a full heart just talked and joked with us all day. It felt like everything was okay again for a moment. All of my sleepless nights crying out to a God I wasn't sure was even listening were lost as I watched her laugh until she cried. I distinctly remember a nurse coming in and asking us to quiet down and then she hung out for a few minutes once she got to know us and saw how much fun we were all having.

We hugged Brittany so tight when we said "see you later" and left in good spirits. I don't remember it as a depressing or sad day whatsoever. I remember laughing until my sides hurt.

Then it happened. At the end of school one day weeks later I got the news that she died.
I dropped to the ground and lost it.
It was sudden and wasn't supposed to happen. She was just getting some routine procedure done and something went terribly wrong and she was gone just like that.
I would never see her again.

The coming weeks were the worst ones my family has ever endured. Brittany was my sister's very best friend and now she was gone. How were we supposed to even begin to pick up these broken pieces? How were we supposed to trust that God was good and that he really did have a plan?

In recent circumstances I have been reminded of Brittany and her very short battle. I have remembered so intensely the pain I felt at the injustice of her death. But I have also remembered that day we laughed together for so long. In a time when all I had been doing was crying, I laughed. Hard. It was so refreshing.

I never expected to learn so much from such a terrible situation:

That it's okay to laugh and find relief in comedy even when things look bleak.

You are allowed to process situations however it is healthiest for you to do so.
You never have to feel guilty or apologize for laughing or crying. Or both.

That people who really are there for you will assist in healing your heartbreak the best that they know how, and they aren't prodding to annoy you--they are prodding because they love you.

Sometimes prayers don't get answered the way that I want them to, but that does not change the fact that God is faithful and good.

Joy does come. Sometimes it isn't in the way we expected or even wanted, but it does come.

Sometimes everything just sucks and you need to laugh until you cry because you just need to experience a new kind of tears.

Laughter might not technically heal physical wounds, but it still heals and is never to be stifled. I am who I am because I laugh with those who need to have their hearts healed, even if sometimes that's just me.

Weeping may endure for a night, but joy comes in the morning.

Psalm 30:5

Stand Up and Speak Out

Growing up in church I was always so unsure of talking to non-Christians about my beliefs. Almost everyone around me believed the same thing as me, so there was no need to figure out a way to "share the good news". People shared it with me. We all were of one belief and mindset. I didn't know how to express it to those who hadn't experienced it before--especially when they only wanted to speak to me about it for argument's sake.

As I've grown older I have encountered all sorts of people from all sorts of backgrounds and let me tell you, not everyone believes the same way as me. Even when they believe in God, it sometimes is a vastly different version of the one I believe in. They view God as an angry man instead of a benevolent being. They pray to him only when they need things and are disappointed in him when they don't get instant solutions and clear answers.

The God I trust in provides for me, comforts me, and heals me. I have been through too much to believe that there is any such thing as a coincidence. When I was four years old I had E. Coli and I'm still here today. When I was in sixth grade I had West Nile Virus and I'm still here today. I have battled depression and now walk in victory of that daily. I have been handed checks for thousands of dollars right exactly when I desperately needed money. I could go on and on and on about the things that have tried to stop me from flourishing, or even existing, and on and on about the crazy ways everything just always WORKS OUT time and time again.

You don't have to believe that these things are miracles, but I sure as heck am going to. It doesn't make sense that a blood test suddenly shows different results, but sometimes it does. And if it gives me a chance to glorify the God of my salvation, I sure as heck am going to.

I was at coffee with a friend today and as we talked about everything going on in our lives lately I couldn't help but get excited. Because I get to attribute all of the good in my life to the Lord AND trust Him with the bad. He does care and he does listen. EVERYTHING is in His hands, even when it wasn't the work of His hands. We get to thank Him for His goodness while relinquishing the burdens we carry, knowing full well that He is taking care of it.
Taking care of us.

People can argue that there is no God, but they cannot argue with the miraculous evidence of Him that is sprinkled over your life. You don't have to prove that Jesus exists--you get to share the signs and wonders you have personally experienced. Nobody can argue with that.

He has done so much for us. He is doing so much for us. He will continue to do so much for us.
So stand up and speak out.

The Beauty of Not Knowing

If the only thing in my life that never fails is my God, then that's still enough for me.

As the wonderful chaos comes to a close and I graduate from my discipleship/internship program, I am definitely left with more questions than answers. I have learned SO MUCH and matured in a lot of ways. But what now? Just what in the world am I supposed to do now?

The problem with being empowered so much in a year is that now I have the crazy idea in my head that I can do anything. That's very exciting and also very dangerous. I could move to Australia and live it up Hillsong style or I could move to Connecticut and intern at Love146 or I could move and do worship somewhere wonderful.

The scary thing about all of those options that face me is one word: move. What if there really is nothing left for me here? What if I am supposed to stay right where I'm at? I don't know what to do, but I am terrified of just feeling stuck somewhere. I'm frustrated at lack of direction. The stupid world has taught me not to dream for fear of getting disappointed.

I listen to worship and have time to just sit, think, and pray, and still all I can come up with is "I just have no idea" and "You know what God? I still trust you." The most important thing I have learned this year is the beauty of not knowing. And that's an extremely intimidating notion for a control freak like myself. But if I can't trust in God I fall apart.

I hear all the time that "God doesn't show you the whole staircase...just the next step", but what if he doesn't show you the next step either? I find myself praying for clarity and direction and getting nowhere. Then I hear a still, small voice... "Do you still trust me?"

You see, the beauty of not knowing turns into the beauty of trusting which turns into the beauty of faith. For every answer I don't have, I am becoming more okay with that. Call me foolish, call me naive, call me whatever you like. But in the beauty of not knowing, my faith is building. I am finally becoming truly dependent on my God who knows everything. It would be foolish NOT to trust in Him.

People are bad at trusting because time and time again we keep proving to each other that we can't keep true to our words. But we have to stop letting wounds from people keep affecting our view of God. We may not understand why or how, but GOD IS TRUSTWORTHY. All the time. Without fail. When there is nothing in the world I can be sure of, I find surety in my God. I am finally relinquishing control that was never really mine in the first place. And as I trade my worry for freedom, I feel in my heart that I really am going to be okay. 

"So Sarah, what's next?"

"What are you doing after graduation?"

"What do you want to do with your life?"

"I have absolutely no idea," I say with a smile.

Call me crazy, but I think that's beautiful.

Fantasy Flight

For those of you who have been stalking my Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram: thank you for entertaining me all night with your increasingly-frustrated and confused comments on all of my pictures from my adventure to the North Pole. But now I feel as if I have some explaining to do.

I really DID go to the North Pole, you guys. Along with 82 terminally ill, disabled, homeless, or under-privileged children and dozens of other volunteers, I got on the "fastest jet in the whole world" and literally FLEW to the North Pole. Well, actually the United Airlines hangar just outside of DIA decorated as the North Pole. And it was on a Boeing 757.

The event is called Fantasy Flight and United Airlines, partnered with the Starlight Children's Foundation, has been hosting it every year since 1991. Children are invited to come on the adventure of their little lives to meet Santa and receive literally everything they want for Christmas. Let me tell you, there was not a dry eye in the building. You can't help but be affected when you see that much magic in one place.

My mom works for United so she got the tip that volunteers were needed for the event. We went to the hangar on Friday night and set up dozens of Christmas trees, lights, and games for the kids. After many hours of assembling all that Christmas cheer, my own anticipation for the next day was at an all-time high.

I arrived at the hangar yesterday at noon to check in and receive my boarding pass. Much to my delight, our gate number was SNOWFLAKES and our destination really did say NORTH POLE. The little kid in me squealed with excitement (I'm totally keeping that ticket forever).  Once all of the volunteers checked in, we boarded buses to take us to the terminal. We arrived and all of us, clad in gaudy Christmas sweaters and donning Santa hats, pranced to the media room for briefing of the event.

As we sat in anticipation we were given explanation for what to expect from the day. My eyes welled up as I heard about some of the children we would get to love and share some smiles with. Children with blood diseases, physical disabilities, mental disabilities, and cancer. Some others were coming from a women's shelter. My heart was breaking wide open. This event was most of these children's only Christmas this year, and as much as I hate to even think of it, maybe some of their last. As I sat there and listened to the special instructions for the children in wheelchairs, with stomach tubes, etc., I cried. I literally just started trickling a million tears. We were providing so much light in the lives of children who have experienced so much darkness. Immediately I knew this day was going to change all of us.

The volunteers were grouped up and given signs that had different Christmas symbols on them. Candy canes, Santa hats, snowmen, gingerbread cookies, presents, snowflakes, jingle bells, you name it. My group got the angel. "How appropriate," my mom said. I agreed. These signs would correspond to stickers the children would be given once they arrived at the airport so that everyone would have volunteers to help them through security. It reminded me of Vacation Bible School teams. Everyone has a symbol and a leader. This was definitely the most effective way to organize almost a hundred ecstatic children.

When we got word that the buses had arrived we all picked up and ran outside to greet them. As we formed a tunnel and sang Christmas carols, the children started walking into the terminal. Through tears and a smile I sang the most terrible rendition of "Santa Claus is Comin' to Town" I have ever sang. It's hard to carol well when you're trying that hard to keep yourself together. These were the cutest kids I had ever laid eyes on and the wonder in their eyes as they came in is something I will never EVER forget. They knew they were on their way to meet Santa himself. Today was the most special.

We escorted everyone back to the media room for the children to pick up their boarding passes. After being assigned a group of little angels, we were off to security. The ratio was perfect: about one volunteer per child. My little angel was a 4-year-old named Josie and she melted my heart all day long. A special security line was set aside for everyone going to the North Pole, so we all felt like we were getting celebrity treatment. After wrangling all six children through the metal detector we went down the escalators to board "Santa's Train" to get to our gate. Usually only one train to the concourses is running at DIA, but this time the second was blocked off for Santa's VIPs. Once again, star treatment.

Josie held onto my hand for dear life, and I certainly didn't mind. She kept asking questions about the North Pole because I told her I had been there before and I was friends with Santa. I would tell her that I eat cookies with him and Mrs. C all the time and she would put her head to the side and say, "Nah... wait. Are you being joking?! You really do that?!" Adorable. The train took us straight to the concourse at 30mph and we disembarked to find our gate. It was such a sight to see hundreds of people walking through the airport in Christmas attire. I loved all the looks we were getting.

We sat at the gate for almost an hour being entertained by Ronald McDonald himself. My very rational fear of clowns aside, it was a pretty cute show. He did a few magic tricks and the kids were certainly enjoying it all. When it was time to board the plane Josie ran to me and exclaimed, "WE'RE REALLY GOING!" Her outcries mirrored the ones in my heart. We were really going! Santa was waiting!

We got on the plane that had been decorated all over with garland and Christmas appliques, accompanied by flight attendants dressed as elves. Christmas carols echoed over the plane's PA system. I was just as consumed by the magic as the kids were. We sat down and got buckled in. Josie looked out the window and asked questions about the airplane's wings, my favorite toys, and Santa's workshop. When it was time for takeoff she screamed. As the plane ascended into the air, the Captain informed us that reindeer were leading the way. We needed to close all of our window shutters because the North Pole is a super-secret location and we didn't want anyone to see the lights from our plane (really it was because the plane was just going to circle in the air before landing a few miles away from DIA). Every child received a Happy Meal and we all sang more carols together. As the 40-minute flight came to a close the children were antsier than ever.

After landing on "Santa's Landing Strip 1" we pulled directly into the North Pole airplane hangar so we wouldn't get frostbite. Once inside we were instructed to open our windows for a surprise. Santa and several elves circled around the plane in a boom lift to wave and greet the children. There was an uproar. "THAT'S REALLY HIM!!! WE'RE HERE! WE MADE IT!"

We exited the plane and dropped all of the children off in a multipurpose room where a Boy Scout troop would read Twas the Night Before Christmas. This gave the rest of us time to finish setting up the activities the children would do while waiting to meet Santa and receive their gift bags. I was doing a face painting station and there was also a ring toss, cookie decorating, a Blue Bell ice cream bar, a bean bag toss, and balloon animals. I painted the faces of several eager adult volunteers while we waited for the story to finish. Nobody was exempt from the renewed childlike wonder that encompassed that building.

For several hours I painted smiling faces. I asked the children what they wanted for Christmas and if they were having fun. I asked for their names as they sat down so that as my brushes created Christmas shapes onto their little cheeks I could pray for them. Every child who sat in my chair warmed my heart as I prayed for healing, joy, provision, and protection over their own lives and families. It was absolutely the most fun I've had in a long time.

One at a time the kids were called in for the moment of the evening--a conversation with the big man himself. He talked to each child for a bit and then handed them a huge bag full of wrapped presents. Every child received at least ten presents. Good presents, too. Exactly what they asked for. Some even got new bikes! What really had me awestruck was the way none of the kids cared the most about what they got. They were more enthralled by the atmosphere of the North Pole and the jolly bearded man they had always wanted to meet. Everyone had an absolutely amazing time. Once the event ended children loaded up all their new toys and boarded back onto the limos and buses they arrived in. A gentle snowfall ended the most perfect evening.

It was a very long, very incredible day. Events like this restore my faith. Just because it isn't a religious event doesn't mean the Lord's work isn't being done. God was straight MOVING in that place. I hope to participate every single year until the day I die, keeping the Christmas spirit alive with hope, restoration, and joy. The true spirit of this season feeds my spirit and gives me life. I feel very blessed to have been a part.