4 Girls and 1 Guy

      Two years and one month ago I moved from Brightwood Avenue to Heiman Street.  Ahem...Heiman Street is my address.  This house is part of a Catholic Worker Community called Nashville Greenlands.  Simplicity and urban gardening are two ideas that drew my attention.  From the outside this white house appears to blend with the surroundings on this street.  Inside is a home that I have made my own.  My favorite thing about this house are the people who come and go.  

     Currently there are four girls and one guy at this residence.  Three Sarahs, a Grace, and a David.  We have a malloquin shepherd named Lucy.  She likes to play in the water, but not swim.  Lucy can climb and her name means goat dog.  Each person brings something unique.  My name is Sarah so that eliminates one of the three.  Sara-h is vegan, loves to cook, run, and say whatever is on her mind.  Her innocence and humor are refreshing.  Sara is quick and witty.  She has the best music collection I have seen in awhile and is constantly teaching me about the earth, yoga, food, and alcohol.  Grace beats to her own drum.  Her style is earthy and vintage.  I always hear her humming and see a new flower arrangement whenever I walk in the house.  David is athletic, intelligent, and can dance.  He owns a bow and a kayak.  

       These people are part of my family.  I have found something to blog about.  Heiman Street.

Mardi Gras

Began the day discussing what I could sacrifice for Jesus during this period of Lent.  What does Lent mean?  Why do it and yada, yada, yada....
Jambalaya recipe from Real Simple fed 5 of us during a game of telephone pictionary.  A combination of spicy sausage and shrimp over rice is perfect paired with a glass of wine or perhaps two.  Hillbillies seemed to be the recurring theme of the game.  Only time and weather could end this entertaining night with neighbors.  Katy and Tristan returned home to rescue Muscogee from the storm as we raced to clean the kitchen from earlier events.
Settling into the living room couches and chair, blankets and pillow in hand, Andrew, Grace, and I discussed what tomorrow and the next 40 days may hold.  Ending in reflection and prayer, we now feel somewhat equipped for what is to come.  I think I will focus on time and words, or perhaps lack of speech for Lent.  Of course, the Spirit will lead.

birthdays and judges.

    There is a harsh reality that exists.  My mother's birthday, and her present is lying on my sewing room floor.  A yellow and white checkered apron made by yours truly.  I longed to deliver it personally this weekend, however something came up at work.  The For Girls Only Club that my middle school girls attend had their Sweetheart Brunch.  Yes, this weekend, instead of the actual weekend of Valentine's Day.  So, I showered and put on my favorite dress and scarf only to hop in my car that would not start.  Which leads me to my main idea of life...
    When you conquer one struggle another challenge arises.  Will I call upon the skills used to conquer the previous struggle or forget everything I learn?  When I was in the fourth grade I recall having an issue with my body.  I was larger than all my friends.  Call me curvy, big-boned, or whatever, but I was different.  No-one wants to be different.  We all want to fit in and look exactly alike.  I complained about losing weight.  I complained about the food I ate.  I was obsessed.  My struggle with my body consumed me and so it consumed everyone.  Mainly, I would not let them think of anything else.  One day, Rebecca, my caring, older sister told me to shut up.  She didn't think I was fat and even if she did it wouldn't matter.  I needed to shut up and move on.  At the time I felt awkward.  Did I really talk about it all the time?  Once, it was called to my attention I practiced keeping my comments to myself.  After, learning that discipline I actually became comfortable with my body.  The less I talked about it the less it was a problem.
    Years later I still remember this story.  A story of success which I can reflect on when I have similar challenges.  Currently I complain and judge everyone at work.  I know this and I can say it, but when someone else says I'm doing this, it's a whole other story.  Now I am reminded of my sister and her words that seemed so harsh at the time, but they were words of truth.  People notice your actions and they have noticed mine.  Like the fourth grader that decided to shut up, the 27 year old is ready to do the same.  I am ready to listen.  For now I am reminded how something that starts out so small can fester and become a bigger problem than a weekend without mom or a car that cannot start.
    

bon hiver...

       Bon hiver takes on a few meanings.  In France, bon hiver means good winter.  I love the way it rolls off the  tongue in such an eloquent manner.  There is a band in America who played off of this named Bon Iver.  I enjoy listening to them in the winter.  For me it means healing and peace during a season of cold.  So tonight, as the snow falls, I listen to Bon Iver and think bon hiver.
      8:30 pm, Nashville, TN, the wave room with comfy chair and black dog, I decide to grow up.  No longer will I complain about older women on a power streak, whether or not I am actually crazy, or what middle schoolers think of my dance moves.  I will not smoke cigarettes, dye my hair, or say I never do anything creative.  Yes, it is true that I have on more than one occasion slipped back into adolescence over the past few months.  So I confess and am determined to gain some self control.  So here is to bon hiver.