For Such A Time...

Heather French Henry sat directly to my right, our knees almost touching; the way schoolgirl friends sit and share secrets together on the school bus. The murmur of the room was very much like that of students cajoling with one another on the first day back from summer vacation, friends who haven’t seen friends since this adventure or that mishap and retell the tales each longs to hear of the other. These here, in the Miss America Suite, are adventurers and warriors dismissing distances and reuniting with their sisters; all beneath the glamorous lights that have bonded them together since 1921. They speak of the future and of their history, of how the Miss America crown has evolved and changed from the Lady Liberty type headdress to the glittering icon I was able to wear on my very head. I was still, a silent observer among the legends, drinking in the experience like a beautifully aged glass of Cabernet, breathing in the moments slowly in hopes that it might never pass away.  Lee Meriwether stood to my immediate right, a glass of wine in hand, exuding elegance in her bare feet, speaking of her Habitat for Humanity endeavor earlier that day. Jackie Meyer worked diligently in the windowsill overlooking Las Vegas Blvd. compiling the paperwork for this years Quality of Life recipients. She celebrated her 50^th anniversary of being Miss America that week, and shared on stage her powerful life story of teaching herself to speak again after a devastating stroke; letters becoming words and words into sentences again. All week long I was given moments of interaction with these Miss Americas; Lauren Nelson and Jennifer Berry hugged me as though I was one of their own, and though I held my composure when I met Heather Whitestone, the only Miss America who is Deaf, upon exiting the Miss America suite I cried tears of joy and admiration. During the Miss America Luncheon I was seated next to the inspiring Donna Axum Whitworth and we discussed her work with The Womens Auxiliary of Texas, and as the Miss Americas were introduced, they highlighted one sisters triumph that year: defeating brain cancer.  Yes, once Miss America, always Miss America. These women do not relinquish the strength that brought them to the crown once they place it on another’s head. These women continue life long legacies of changing the world, and overcoming obstacles. They singularly represent, in their daily lives, a collective commitment to perseverance, strength, “world peace”; and undying and unwavering support of scholarship, style, success, and service. The four points of the crown are more the beating of their very hearts than the delicate Miss America pin worn directly above it.

My temperament is disquieted to know that some would see a woman wearing a crown or hear the title of beauty queen and instantly resign and dilute her to their own understanding; found in poorly given stage answers, scandalous controversies and the go-go juice of Honey Boo Boo. Not to dismiss the existence of the latter, for it is an apparent reality, but to declare that to be a woman who truly represents what Miss America is all about, is to promote awareness for Autism, Alzheimers, Heart Disease and Childhood Cancer. It means packing 45,000 backpacks to do your part in ending childhood hunger or creating an animal program for special needs children and wounded veterans. It means taking your glittering sparkling crown off of your own head and placing it on the bald head of a little girl; her body riddled by chemo treatments but her heart now elated by how you have made her feel beautiful, maybe even invincible. Our current Miss America, Mallory Hagan is herself a champion for the disavowed, broken and abused in her cause to End Child Sexual Abuse, on top of which she is the Ambassador of the Childrens Miracle Network, she promotes women involvement in STEM programs and represents Joseph Ribkhoff and Artistry Beauty.

Educated.
Calculated.
Emboldened.
Compassionate. 

Such are the descriptors of America’s queens.

For a brief moment in my timeline, in one of the most precious adventures of my lifetime; The Miss America Organization gave me the incredible honor of feeling exactly like I had become Americas queen. I presented at The Neiman Marcus Luncheon to Miss Americas and members of the Board of Directors, and again on Thursday evening I spoke on the Miss America stage in the Planet Hollywood Resort and Casino in Las Vegas, Nevada. When I concluded my words, the audience rose to their feet. I was awestruck, starstruck, shocked, and humbled. As tradition goes, you only stand, for Miss America herself. Joy flooded me, gratitude overwhelmed me- What could I do? But say an inaudible thank you to the masses- raise my hand in love into the lights.

Afterwards pockets of people would tell me that the very first to leave their seat, was Katie Stam Irk, seated in front at the celebrity judges table. An honor given by the honored. I watched Katie Stam sing Via Del A Rosa and win Miss America 2009 sitting in my living room, by myself, cheering for her as loud as I could for no one to hear. And here she, a woman I so admired for so long for her grace and faith, had cheered for me. What kindness of the Lord to show me such favor! I returned to my seat, breathless and slightly stunned, I looked about the audience around me, thinking…there wasn’t a single father there who wouldn’t have given everything to make their daughters dream come true, to become Miss America, and my Father did that for me, in His own way and His own timing, for His own glory. He said, yes My princess, I will fulfill the desires of your heart, and you will bring honor to My name.

If you stripped my Las Vegas experience of everything; the beautiful Bellagio, the candlelit dinner at Top of The World, if you had to take away breakfast in the Paris Casino and the dresses and the royal treatment, the little girls asking for photographs and autographs, the Directors of this and that asking me to speak and speak again; if you took it all away except one moment, I would still be as overjoyed and enamored and thankful for this experience.  This one moment occurred during my Thursday Night speech, well aware of all that was happening outside of the confines of our stadium of dream makers and dream believers, one of my lines in my speech was as follows:

“And all of those tomorrows have led me to right here, and right now. Where I will testify that I would not be the women standing before you tonight, if not for the Gospel and the grace of Jesus Christ.”

The crowd erupted in cheers.

I was startled for a moment, it was a reaction I hadn’t expected or planned for in my calculated pauses of speech practice. But oh, what a reaction to receive! YES! My heart thought! Yes! This is why I came- this is what I stand for and why I have been given something to say- Thank Him for what He has done! Honor Him with thunderous applause. I am so humbled, thankful and in awe that God would take a broken vessel and redeem her, for such a time as this; that in the heart of “Sin City”; the name of Christ would be praised.

I rested my head against the window as my limo headed to the airport at the end of my adventure, weaving through the streets where vagabonds and kings nightly meet, where people walk till the morning gold spills about their feet. “Are you Miss USA or something?” my driver asks through the open windowed partition pulling me out of my quiet thoughts “No no I’m just a regular girl” I replied. “Well okay, then why all this?” he motions his hand around the large vehicle. I explain to him how the Miss America Organization provided this amazing experience for me as their guest and how I was able to speak and share my faith on their stage. “Your faith?…what’s your faith?” he asked.

I moved forward to the front of the seats to be closer.

Because, I have something to say about faith, and why was I sent, if not for a moment such, as this.

First and Foremost

 I stood in the narrow filthy bathroom hardly large enough for me to stretch my arms from wall to wall, the floor encumbered with laundry, old newspapers and the faintest scent of cat urine. A mother’s shouts echoed below my feet, a stepfather’s cigarette smoke drifted through the open window. I stared into the faded and cracked mirror above the sunken peach colored sink; two of the florescent bulbs had burnt out so only one weak yellow light cast any ability for me to see my wispy reflection. I rolled my tiny shoulders back, my collarbone prominent in my thin disposition, I grasped a hairbrush in my hand; and that is where I would practice on more than one occasion, my future Oscar acceptance speech. Inside the dreams of my young mind, my surroundings faded away; indeed they melted into the shimmering applause of the most prominent thespians as I graciously thanked The Academy. Perhaps in Wednesday’s speech I would be sharing the stage with Julia Roberts, maybe on Saturday; after rushing through my lunch at the soup kitchen in the church with white columns, I’d be holding hands in anticipation with the likes of Audrey Hepburn and Grace Kelly. I lived inside my mind a lot for a child, fabricating stories and dreams that seemed more beautiful to me than the truth. Yet always, was there a truth inside the fairytale. A truth that made my heart flutter with expectation, a beating belief that I was meant for more. That I could be brave enough to dare to think I could make something of myself despite societies expectations of a girl like me. And always was there a truth in that speech fashioned long ago by a grinning youth in valiant defiance. The first words I always spoke and the only words I could recount to you today were as follows:

“I would like to thank, first and foremost my Lord and Savior Jesus Christ without whom this would not have been possible”

Always.

And now, years from then and a week from today; I will board a plane for Las Vegas, and be escorted to Planet Hollywood. A prominent makeup artist will spin me in a chair to face a clean glass mirror framing the face of a 25 year old woman polished and coiffed in a sparkling emerald dress. I will stand beneath hundreds of bright lights, and deliver a speech to thousands of guests at The 2013 Miss America Pageant, including Olympic Gold Medalist McKayla Maroney and legendary journalist Mary Hart. I will not be receiving the crown of Miss America, but I will be sharing with everyone the journey of how I came to stand upon that stage and how the crown of salvation has been given to me through the gospel and the grace of Jesus Christ. And as I marvel at how my Father has brought this dream of "standing on the Miss America stage" to fruition in a tremendously different way than I ever could have imagined; the truth remains the same.

“I would like to thank first and foremost my Lord and Savior Jesus Christ without whom this would not have been possible.”

Who would I be without Christ? Absolutely nothing.  My story does not start in the grit of child's determination, it begins at the Cross; the power of my story is not found in a woman’s strength, but on Calvary. There would be no woman of perseverance if there was no Savior of peace. This opportunity to speak is one of the greatest gifts and opportunities I have been given in my life thus far; and my aim is not to craft words that glorify myself, my intentions are not to place my name in the starring role of a rags to riches story. I am speaking the words of His story, and how my Jesus redeems lives, hearts and futures with His grace, His love and His providence. I rejoice that I am not the leading lady, I am proud to be a mere extra, part of the crowd of faces, and collection of stories that enhance the One at the center of it all. My God. And it is He who is worthy of thundering applause.

My speech length is 4 minutes and 30 seconds; a mere 270 seconds to capture a quarter of a century of brokenness, redemption, Gods love, and motivational mantras. Therefore I know the music will sound long before I will have been given the chance to adequately thank all of those who played a role in this amazing moving picture. So here, I will try to express what my speech of gratitude would sound like if I had all the time I needed to say what needs to be said. Yet, here too, will I forget some name and someone just like those who are rushed off by a symphony’s start and for that I apologize in advance and urge you to know my heart swells at what all of you have done for me. And again another disclaimer, this is not even an exhaustive list of all who have touched every aspect of my life in a special way and poured their heart into my own, for that would be hundreds of pages long; so here, you will find those I feel necessary to thank for their role in this scene, my moment on The Miss America stage.

“I would like to first and foremost thank my Lord and Savior Jesus Christ, without whom this would not have been possible." I would like to thank my mother, who despite it all, never once told me I could not become anything I wanted to. To my older sister; you were my shield and defense and now you are my best friend, an amazing mother of two and more to come, and I love you. To my brother Samuel, you are a gift to me, you have taught me patience and sacrifice and more country music lyrics and sports stats I could ever hope to need. I will love you more than you will ever know for the rest of your life. To my adopted Mom and Dad and brother and sister, you are the arms I reach for and the lifeline I am anchored by, thank you for rejoicing in the dreams of the dreamer. An enormous thank you to Leslie and Andy Nack, Stacy and Scott Ruggles, The Bethel Bible Village Community,The Schollaerts, The Koboldts, Andrew McDonald and others; I see your faces when I look back over my journey with Sam, our “Buddy”. God assured me I would never walk alone, and then you showed up. To Jimmy Exum, Jane Alderson, Paige Burcham Carlton and the entirety of The Miss Tennessee Scholarship Program, I am grateful for every single pageant I pursued within this system, I hold on to the treasured bonds I have formed with every single person involved, I am overwhelmed by your faith in me and I will forever cherish the family I have in “Team Tennessee”.  Thank you to my pageant sisters in Christ and cheerleaders; Ashley Cole, Kaley Schwab, Wendy King, Kendall Shulz, and Chandler Lawson, and it’s here where I know I will leave out many names of gracious fans, supporters, encourager's and sister queens. Know I love you and I have felt your love for me. A special thank you to Chelsea Jensen Koerten who followed Gods lead to tell a story and shine a light on Him. To my beloved friends; the ones who have been with me since 6^th grade, or have become like sisters to me in the short time of knowing you; the girls who prayed for me, believed in me, fasted for me, the ones who let me raid their closets, came to my luncheons or my competitions, made sparkly banners and always encouraged me to choose the brussels sprouts; you are all princesses to me and I have found favor among women to be blessed by your lives. Thank you to Sam Haskell, who heard me speak once and enabled me to speak again. Thank you to Art McMaster, Marc Angeli, Laura Gallagher and the entirety of the Miss America Organization for graciously hosting me on that stage and letting me share my heart in my very own Miss America moment. Thank you grace, Thank you life, Thank you Christ."

Cue the music.

Wave like a princess.

Give glory and honor to God.

THE END.

Sarah

And So We Meet Again...

I am floored that it has actually been over a year since my last post! Which echoes well with my mothers sentiment; "you are far too distracted by so many things to just simply be a writer..." Though that very well could be my writers interpretation, when what she really said was "Sarah you are way too ADD to quit your job and just write your book..." No matter how Robin said it, she is quite correct and I am so excited about all my lovely distractions and can only hope they aid in the completion of all my books! I have actually been writing elsewhere. In November of 2011 I had the privilege of becoming a contributing author for WOGmagazine.com! I've included links to some of my very favorite articles below and am looking forward to sharing with all of you soon my newest article: The Sovereignty of LUCK!

My article on CAMBODIA

My article on Children with Special Needs

My article on My Testimony

I am so grateful to my editor Trillia Newbell for her continued faith in me and for the opportunity to be a part of such an exciting online publication, now well into our second year! I will continue to write for WOG as long as I am welcome to do so, and will also be writing on this blog more as well. Though in fair warning I will abandon it yet again upon the launch of my official .com website! Yes folks, that's happening and you will love the new site even more than this blog. 

My first official Surrendered Crown post of 2013 coming soon! 

In Him

S.

Band of Brothers

A post on the 3 young men the Lord has placed in my life as brother; and the 3 very different ways He did so.

On Friday my younger brother (I am forbidden from calling him my “little” brother) will get on a plane for the very first time, and I will experience heart palpitations and pace back and forth until he’s in New York safe and sound. I will have him call me the second he lands, and yes I have called US Airways and arranged for someone to escort him from gate to gate on each flight. I can’t help it, my entire life I’ve felt the need to protect Samuel; ever since I held this mammoth 10lb 8 ounce baby that took up almost the entirety of my 4 year old self, since that moment he’s always been my Buddy. Maybe I just knew that’s what sisters were supposed to do for their younger siblings; my older sister had always protected me so there was no hesitation that this was what I was to do as well. Yet, I was never the cool older sister; I was the constant nagging voice; "Sam do your homework, Sam tie your shoes, Sam don’t talk with your mouth open, Sam don’t say aint. "(He hates that one.) I don’t know if he ever saw through the layers and realized that I was hard on him because I loved him, and I don’t know if he ever will. I can only hope the times when Sam and I would play basketball or throw a football at the park spoke louder to him than all the motherly requests I gave him. There were times when I would physically put myself between him and whatever struggle the world had given to us to take, and then there came a time when our relationship would be altered and I would literally be asked to guard over him. I remember my prayers so vividly from that time in my life; I asked the Lord to remember His promises to His children and to not forget Samuel. I would do whatever my Father asked of me, it didn’t matter. And as it is with our Heavenly Father; He did not leave, He did not forsake. God transformed my heart and placed inside of it a love for someone greater than my own life, God changed my dreams filled with successes and changing the world, to dreaming of a place of refuge for my baby brother and having his world forever changed. God then put people in my life to walk that road with me; I never walked alone, and I can never pour out enough gratitude to the people that came alongside me and helped me to bear my burden of grace. On Saturday, Sam the Man; a good bit over 6 feet these days, will turn 20 years old, and my prayer for him is this. "Dear Father I thank you for what you have done in his life, and how you have displayed your grace. I praise you for the people who genuinely care for him and are invested in his future. I pray for his future, that he would be given a drive and discipline to succeed at whatever You call him to do. I pray that you would utilize his intellect and love for reading and sports. Just as Hannah in the Bible, I give Samuel up to you. I surrender my worry and my anxiety and my fears for Him to you and will trust that you will continue to move mountains for your son. Amen."

Up in Pennsylvania there is a young man that I knew long before the Lord would graft him in to my heart as brother. I remember when Nevin and Robin Gorki decided I was finally old enough to babysit their children, I was so excited, they were such good kids at church and I was drawn to their parents and looked up to them in their walk of faith. Jared, their youngest, was always such a great kid. He said please when he asked for more macaroni and cheese, was always a joy to draw treasure maps with and play hide and seek, karaoke, and HORSE on long hot summer days. As I grew older, Robin and I got closer; to this day I still curl up on the stool over the kitchen island and pour out my heart to her. So, when my home no longer became my home, it was the Gorkis who opened up their doors to me. I already had a fierce love for their family and now by Gods grace I was a part of it. I’ll never forget when Kylie, their oldest, introduced me to some of her friends as her older sister and I can't tell you how much it means to me to see a photo of me on the wall. Jared and I have a sweet relationship, see we play checkers and I let him win every time......actually, truth is I’m terrible at checkers and no matter how much I practice or how many trick plays I memorize off my I-phone; it’s Jared who wins. Hands down. He even HELPS me and I lose. Whenever I call him he always asks me if I'm ready to come home and lose. I try to leave a letter on the table every time I leave home, I sign it; “All my love, forever and always” and that’s true, I will always love all of them with all my heart; Kylie will always be my sister, Jared will always be my brother. It’s hard to believe that the little boy I watched run up and down the tiny soccer fields is now a tall, kind hearted freshman in high school, and my prayer for him is this. "Dear Father, thank you for the incredible gift  of family you have given me with my Gorki’s, thank you that I have a sweet brother in Jared. I pray that you would bless him these next four years of high school and cultivate his heart for others into the leader of men I know he will be. I pray that you would give opportunity for him to share your love and gospel and he would continue to grow in wisdom and stature. Amen"

 

When I was 17, I had a paternity test that ruled out Option Number One of who my father could be. It’s results left me with the information that Option Number Two was indeed my biological father. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to find him or not, the story I had been given was that he hadn’t wanted anything to do with me. I questioned why I would want to track that person down and ask them to want me again. I decided I would at least find as much information on him as I could, and like every other high school senior with a question at hand; I turned to Google. I googled his name and a phone number and address came up; I wrote it down on a piece of paper, there in my hands was the X on a treasure map of a lifetime of searching. I didn’t call it for the longest time, to be perfectly honest I was scared a little girl would answer the phone and tell her daddy that there was strange girl on the phone for him.  Yet sometime when the season turned colder and I was at my mothers house by myself, I called the number. I asked for him using his full name, thinking the middle name would indicate I had definitely found the right one. “This is” he said. I asked if he remembered my mother, calling her by the name he would have known her as. His voice slowed, it was full of questions. Finally, very calmly I stated; “ I’m your daughter” The first thing he said to me was; “ You have a brother”. "Yes, yes I do" I said, "his name is Samuel." He then went on to explain that no, he had a son, so I had yet another brother and his name was Leland and was 10 years younger than I was. Since that phone call I have spent time with Leland twice, it’s hard because he lives out West and I live down here in Dixie. Leland is a sweet boy who at 14 is already heads taller than me. He asks grown up questions and seems like a very serious, mature boy. He is my little Leelee and my prayer for him is this. Dear Father, thank you for giving me the courage to pursue a truth that scared me which ended up giving me another little brother to love. I hope that I can be a good example for him and that we can grow up the rest of our lives together even though we are far apart. I pray that you would reveal your truths to him and that you would walk beside him. Bless him Father and remind him that he is never alone. Amen"

I am a very lucky big sister, to have been given three boys who look up to me, whose bonds with me are so very different; our DNA is nothing alike, we share only parts of each others features, yet I love them all with an unconditional compassion and they each bless me with their unique hearts. What a beautiful reminder that though each of us in this world are so very different; we should love one another just the same. The man sitting across from you on the subway or in the next cubicle is your brother. The woman who just lost her husband or is checking out your groceries, she’s your sister. Your fellow man is someone you should love and protect, cherish and encourage. Our Father said to love one another as He has loved us, and has He not welcomed us in to his family, adopted through the precious blood of His Son making us all brothers and sisters in Christ. His prayer for us is this: "I pray also for those who will believe in me through their message, that all of them may be one, Father, just as you are in me and I am in you. May they also be in us so that the world may believe that you have sent me. I have given them the glory that you gave me, that they may be one as we are one I in them and you in me—so that they may be brought to complete unity. Then the world will know that you sent me and have loved them even as you have loved me."

S.

Que Sera Sera

My dear friend Annelie lives out in Oregon, today she called and told me about this crazy ”cliff jumping at night under the light of a full moon”; it sounded all together amazing and terrifying. I imagined what it would be like to throw myself off in to darkness, seeing nothing beneath me but the black of night and looking out over the expanse of mountain peaks outlined by moonbeams. It caused me to think about the pieces of light and truth God has been sending out for me, like lamps unto my feet in this sometimes-dark path.

Within all my anxiety, He whispers: TRUST.

Within all my doubts, He whispers: I PROMISE.

Within all my unanswered desires, He whispers: WAIT.

I’ve never been very good at waiting; as a little girl I would stay up reading a book until the sky had turned royal blue and the morning chorus of birds had started it’s melody outside my window; I hadn’t been able to wait until the next evening to finish the story; I wanted to know the ending NOW! I never savored Christmas stockings like my sister either; she would take each item out, that my mother had gleaned over the past year so painstakingly, one by one and praise and thank my mother for her forethought and fortitude. Not me, I poured that sucker out on to the floor, examined the treasures, deemed what I thought was necessary and tore in to the juicy traditional Christmas orange that was always in the toe of the stocking. I’m also a horribly impatient driver, people who know me well have seen the flares of my road rage and know that I will drive in the wrong direction and take the long way round if only to avoid waiting in traffic. So the Lord must find it deliciously ironic that he led my mother to bestow upon me the name that she has; three of my names are biblical women who the Lord called, to wait.  Yet my name is so much more than ironic, it is deep rooted in the sovereignty of God just like every other portion of this beautiful life I have been served. I have always been aware of the meanings of my names and have tried to live up to the woman it proclaims me to be, but until recently I have overlooked how I could be taught and served by the stories of my namesakes.

Sarah-I was named after Sarah in the Old Testament, Abraham’s barren wife. My mother was very adamant that I instruct people that I was Sarah “ with an H” as opposed to Sara.  She explained the meaning behind how God changed Sarai to Sarah, and how to her, the H signified the breath of God. In Hebrew times someone’s named being changed was also symbolic of a covenant; you see God changed her name when He promised she would bear a son and Abraham would become the Father of Gods chosen people. I find a lot of hope in Sarah; you see she laughed at the Lords promise that she would bear a child, I mean, wouldn't you if you were around 90 years old?! But God responded: “Is anything too hard for the Lord?” So even though she had laughed and doubted, even though she grew impatient and took things in to her own hands and created an “Ishmael” the Bible tells us that God was gracious to her and fulfilled His promise and she had a son, on occasion of which she said: “ God has brought me laughter”. What sweet joy to be had in the fulfilled promises of God.

Elizabeth- Elizabeth means “ consecrated to God”. I am humbled that one of my names would possess such a meaning; to be chosen, to be set apart. Only by Gods grace can I sing praises to my King, only because He has chosen me, adopted me in to His family. My Elizabeth comes from the New Testament.  She and her husband Zacharias were righteous followers of God, but Luke tells us that they had no children, because Elizabeth was barren. Yet in her old age God gave her a baby who would be known as John the Baptist, the voice in the wilderness, proclaiming the Messiah. Elizabeth waited her whole life to feel a life inside of her, the bible says that Zacharias prayer “had been heard”. Upon seeing Mary, who at that point was pregnant with Jesus, the baby inside Elizabeth leapt for joy and Elizabeth identifies Mary as the mother of her Lord.  Elizabeth not only waited for a baby, she waited for the Messiah and God gave her both.

Ruth- The name Ruth was originally intended to be my first name and I was supposed to live out my days known as Ruth Adele Stonier, named after my mother’s dearest cousin and mentor Ruth Adele Link. I wasn’t too young to still posses memories of this Ruth, always sitting with a blanket over her legs; her hands were as soft as butter, with large protruding veins and she only had one eye. I would often stare at the empty socket on her face but would soon be distracted by how she still dressed herself like a proper lady and had a different lapel broach for every occasion. I can see why my mother upon deciding she preferred her daughter to be named Sarah Elizabeth, would not want to risk hurting the feelings of such a remarkable woman and would squeeze on to my birth certificate: Sarah Elizabeth Ruth Adele Stonier. The name Ruth means friend, and is synonymous with mercy and compassion. I treasure the name Ruth because she is in my top five of favorite biblical women. If you haven’t before I urge you to read the book of Ruth in the Old Testament; Ruth, gave up her people and culture after her husband dies to follow the One True God of her mother-in-laws people. She chose to trust and follow God, she waited at the feet of Boaz and she was ushered in to the lineage of Jesus Christ. To me Ruth emulates humility, joy and grace; on Ruth and her circumstances the commentator Matthew Henry writes: “God wisely orders what seem to us small events; and those that appear altogether uncertain, still are directed to serve his own glory, and the good of his people.”

Adele Now, unless there’s an Adele hidden somewhere in the Book Of Chronicles in the many verses of “whom begat who” that I skip over; Adele is not a biblical name. In fact I can only think of two Adele's; Jane Eyre's charge in the classic Charlotte Bronte novel and the incredible singer performing next month in Atlantic City. There are no deep stories of faith for me to derive inspiration from but I can’t very well withhold it from a blog post structured around my name! However the name Adele is worth noting because it also holds a beautiful meaning; noble.  To me, noble has never represented wealth or aristocracy, noble was that rare quality that peered out from the woods like a flash of a cardinals wing in the snow. Noble was something I searched for, like a woman staring out in to the harbor waiting with the wisest discretion for her ship to come in, instead of rolling in the deep.

My names without Stonier, spell out SERA, it wasn’t planned that way but when I was little I recognized my initials in the prefix to another word found in Scripture; Seraphim. The Seraphim's were angels, and I was reading in the book of Isaiah when I was struck by the connection, more powerfully so did I see that the seraphim were singing; “ Holy, Holy, Holy, is the Lord, GOD Almighty; the whole earth is full of His glory”

Wow.

And so, this impatient. anxious. imperfect. heart belongs to a girl whose very name reminds her to wait upon the Lord and to praise His name. On Sunday, we had a wonderful sermon from Psalm 27. Our pastor Bill Kittrell did an incredible job at breaking apart the words of David and reminding us that as we wait upon the Lord, we would see His goodness in the land of the living. We’re all in different seasons of our lives; some are waiting for that proposal and ring, while others have yet to find someone at all. Some are waiting for their child to go through chemotherapy treatments, while others are waiting and hoping and praying for a child to bare. Some are waiting for grades to come through, or a promotion conference call to be had. Some are waiting for prayers to be answered, and some still have to wait to see why the prayer was answered the way it was. Yet, our God gives us so many examples of His faithfulness that we can draw near to Him and not fear that his love may be conditional, not expect to be let down or cast aside. He will not reject or forsake us. While we wait, let us wait in joy. While we trust, let us trust in thankfulness. While we remain confident in His promises, let our lives be known as a song that is filled with proclaiming the holiness and glory of our God.

In Him,

Sarah

The Arc of Triumph in Paris, France

Water&Elephants

One of the fondest memories I have of my mother is when she would gather the four of us around a large globe of the world; the bright spherical kind generally found in middle school classrooms. Together we would spin it faster and faster until one of us pointed out our finger, jammed it down with emphasis and excitement and stop it on some faraway land. We would then pray for the country in which we had found ourselves; we would pray for the orphans, the widows, the hungry and the needy. My mother was never entirely sure where our next meal was coming from but she made sure we knew there were less fortunate than we, and that we should wear our knees out praying for them. When I was 11 I’ll never forget the missionaries coming to church; the globe now stretched out flat, a map of the world staring back at me as I sat by myself in the back row of blue cushioned pews. The missionaries were talking about whatever we would do unto the least of these…we would do unto Jesus. I remember my zealous, too tall, and dangerously skinny self, wanting to jump out of my seat and save the world, but my reasonable, older than years self, thinking; Sarah, you are the least of these. You get by through the benevolence of others. You are more often than not a charity project yourself. How on earth could you help? It was then that I started searching for ways to impact people; be it through smiling at my elderly customers as I delivered their newspapers, or insisting on taking my friends lunch-trays up to the trashline or passing out cold cups of water in the sweltering heat.

Jesus taught me that it isn't money or power that changes the world; it is His love.

At 15 I experienced my first missions trip; working in a whitewashed stone orphanage in Montego Bay, Jamaica. The Mennonite women who had given up their families to run this haphazard collection of joyful faces worked tirelessly in the unforgiving sun, not taking a thought to abandon their long dresses and covered hair. I admired them as much as I admired the stark contrast between my own porcelain skin against the midnight skin of the tiny children I held and sang to. The last day I remember staring out the window of the bus as we pulled away, but from the glare of the sun it was my own reflection that stared back at me. I followed the tear that ran down my cheek as I prayed the inhabitants inside that little orphanage would hear the call of Jesus saying; “Let the little children come to me.” I go often as a little child to my Father, even as a 24 year old woman I cling to the promise that He is a father to the fatherless and that in His presence I can whisper, Abba. I must continually trust that He will guide my steps with His holy wisdom in ways so much more beautiful than an earthly father could have. It was His hands that guided me to Johnson Bible College, though for years I stubbornly refuted His request. Speech was definitely in my top five favorite classes at Johnson, not only was Professor Ketchen a gem of a teacher but I excelled in speech, and anticipated the delivering of my crafted words in Winston Churchill style. But the most powerful speech from that year was one not my own. Kristin Rickels had spent her summer in Kenya; slide after slide, picture after picture flashed brightly behind her as she spoke, and as she told her stories, I cried. Not the unattractive boohooing, but those singular quiet tears that slip down your face when you’re grieving from a deeper place inside you. I couldn’t help but notice that in a single second the photo had captured all of their depravity and all of their joy.  Ever since then I have felt called to go on missions trips to Africa and India, in fact on my To- Do List, number 10 stated very clearly: "Go on Missions Trip to Africa or India." I wanted with all my heart to work in an aids clinic in Africa, and a school in India; both places that very dear women from Johnson Bible College have already carried a bright light. Yet every endeavor I pursued only led to a closed door, missed opportunities and unanswered yearnings. However, in early 2012 I will be able to cross number 10 off the list, but only because I’ve changed it to say, “Go on an overseas missions trip” and I hope my fellow bucket-listers will grant me that liberty. Right now the door is wide open to serve the people of Cambodia. Never in my dreams (obviously) did I desire to go to the Far East, never did I expect to be communicating with missionaries in Phnom Penh, and picking up a travel book filled with foreign concepts and glossy pictures of waterfalls and elephants. God has this habit of changing the desires of my heart to match His plans. Yet in His defense, isn’t this exactly what I pray for?

Here’s the game plan; meet my friend Genevieve! Gen has been one of my best friends since high school, she’s funny, she’s Irish, and has a super cute niece named Lily. Gen has worked in Cambodia and will be living in Cambodia for possibly the next two years. She works with a company that promotes clean water and sanitation, while at the same time providing economic infrastructure to Cambodian locals. She’s my in to the country, and my more than likely place to stay! Which is another cool part to the adventure. Gen is staying in the dorms of a local college and in exchange is teaching English to Cambodian women. So part 1 of my mission is to join her in the incredible experience of sharing the words I love so much with women whose culture and language I know absolutely nothing about! If that wasn’t challenging enough, the main part of my mission is full of its own heartbreaking challenges. Right now the goal for me is to work in a village outside the capital. It is a village known as “The Pedophile Capital of the World”. There, 99 percent of the children are at risk of being sold into sex slavery. How devastating that our world could be so advanced and full of such beauty and in the same heartbeat, the same click of time so depraved and filled with such a horrifying sin. The purpose of this blog post is to ask for your prayers and hundreds of them! Prayer that the doors would continue to be opened, that my time and purpose would be solidified, that the funds would be made available to go, for the relationships that will be built with the Cambodian college students, prayers that I may have many opportunities to share the Gospel and bring them the Living Water, pray for Genevieve as she spends much more time than I will over there away from family, prayer that I would be given the tools and the knowledge on how I could ever possibly make an impact for these kids, prayers for those children, for a hedge of protection around them and their futures. Charles Spurgeon once said “ We don’t pray for the important things, prayer IS the important thing” I thank you in advance for your prayers as I head towards crossing this off my bucket list. Of all my frail, little dreams this one certainly holds a special weight, its more than something to accomplish, it is something that is part of the very core of who I am and the woman God has called me to be.

Here I am Lord, send me.

"He is no fool who gives up what he can not keep, to gain that, which he will never lose" -Jim Elliot.

So, What's Next?

Over the weekend of my very favorite holiday July 4^th, I walked within the beautiful dreams of people I love. Kelsey Pack with buttons all down her back married Tripp Purks, who, in a dashing slate gray vowed to cherish her forever, against the gorgeous expanse of a wheat field and the boughs of a weeping willow tree. The very next day, my sweet little sister by adopted love Kylie Gorki turned 16! Together our teeth turned green and blue from Funfetti cupcakes and I did a happy dance when I got the “ passed my permit“ text from her. Then, love swelled in my heart as I held my precious niece Eva, born on June 29th to my amazing big sister Cassia Maguire and her “perfectly made for her” husband, Mike.  It was a medley of the biggest moments that will ever happen in a woman’s life, all happening around me, all to other people. Brilliant displays of Gods love and plans for them exploding into the night skies precisely like the very fireworks I watch every summer, and I was just as mesmerized and happy to watch those moments happen for them. I’ve already passed through the sweetness of a 16^th, and have yet to cross in to the world of wedding bells and babies. I’m standing on this fabulous middle ground; independently sojourning, in a life dependent on God.

Since I was 18 I have prayed that the Lord would either grant the desires of my heart, or He would change them. Change them He has, and Christ has shown me that His will is perfect and that within His will is where I am safest, and most at peace.  He designed me with a purpose, and I must allow His purposes to be my pursuit, not my own. Out of the desires of my heart come my hopes and dreams and I collect a few of those on lists.  It has been so fulfilling, crossing things off of my current list and of course blogging what I can of the experiences. I was thrilled to cross off “Compete in Miss Tennessee” this June. My personal goal outside of being Miss Tennessee and then Miss America was to be in the Tennessee Top Ten, and I completed my Miss Tennessee journey in the Top Ten.  Eleanor Roosevelt once said that the future belongs to those who believe in the beauty of their dreams; and it was an incredible, beautiful, feeling to see one of my dreams come to fruition after four years of persevering towards that exact outcome. Ever since the closure of that dream I have been asked by so many people what all my future plans are. “So, what’s next?” is now the question of the hour, and I stopped counting how many times those precise words have been posed to me. So, what’s next?

The beautiful and terrifying answer to that question is…….I have no idea.

At ten years old I would practice my Oscar acceptance speech in the mirror, convinced I would be the Audrey Hepburn of my generation. At 15, as I would sing The National Anthem at my high school sporting events, knees knocking and heart pounding, I was sure that one day the lights of the soccer field would transform in to the lights of Superbowl 41. At 18, the dreams were a little bit more realistic.…ok, maybe they were still grandiose; see I was certain I would graduate from SAE, a film school in Australia and I would go on to master the arts of screenwriting, directing and cinematography. I had already penned my cover letters to Walden Media and Focus Features and yes, that Oscar acceptance speech still lingered in the back of my mind (though it now possessed more copious and elaborate vocabulary).  I was 18 when I wrote my first bucket list, though I have no idea now what it said. I know though, what it didn’t say, it did not say things to the effect of:  move below the Mason Dixon line, take Greek and Hebrew classes, graduate from Bible College, travel across the country to summer camps presenting the Gospel, get a job in the healthcare industry and walk the northern beaches of Denmark. Yet, that is precisely what happened in my life, and that is exactly what the Lord intended to happen so I would be the woman I am right now, living in the moments I am right now. He gave me the love of words and oratory so that I would find myself motivating a gymnasium full of middle school kids instead of the stage of The Kodak Theater. He gave me a love of singing not for the Superbowl Stadium but for the joy of singing Amazing Grace to my niece, or just the simple outpouring of my heart in worship every morning.  And worship I shall, even though I have no idea what’s next in my career, my education, my life, and my walk of faith. I guess I’ll start with that little “List of Things To Do before I turn 26”.  I plan on designing and sowing my own dress, seeing the Red Hot Chili Peppers in concert, making a pumpkin pie from the actual pumpkin, volunteering at East TN Children’s Hospital, memorizing Ephesians, planting a tree for Earth Day and a bunch of other fun things that I won’t disclose in order to keep you coming back to read about them! The little ones are easy though, I just have to plan them and then circle the date on the calendar with a hot pink sharpie. The more daunting ones include: Publish a novel and a children’s book series, go on an overseas missions trip, travel to Australia and New Zealand, swim with sea turtles and watch the sunrise spill over the Grand Canyon. It’s the big dreams that are harder to hold onto, more difficult to persevere towards. The larger the glass ball, the more delicate it is to carry, one misstep and it shatters. Yet are they missteps? When dreams aren’t realized and they fade into the mist and remain just ink marks on a worn piece of paper, when hopes are deferred to a locked box beneath your bed, have you failed? I know this to be true: Man makes his plans, but the Lord determines his steps.  I think to never try something is to fail, to have plans foiled and give up is to fail, but when something doesn’t come to fruition simply because it wasn’t Gods will for you it is only because He has something better, something even more beautiful, because He knows you more intimately than you know yourself. From where I stand right now, in this fabulous middle ground, I look behind me to the rocks I have traversed over and the sovereignty and grace of the Lord, and I look ahead to the stunning expanse of possibilities and the abundant life my Father has promised me. I know there will be joy and there will be pain, but the King of my mountains will also be the Lord of my valleys and whatever is in front of me, "I’ll choose to sing Hallelujah". Of this I am certain, I will seek first the Kingdom of God and His righteousness, and whatever He decides to add unto me; well, that, that is exactly what’s next.