June 13, 2014

behind the blog.

This is a story about us. Here we are:


Except life moves on and I lost some more of that baby belly and got my hair cut short, and the baby grew bigger and the big boy got taller, and the hubs grew his beard out and then he shaved it off again and the story goes on and on.

My name is Sarah. I'm restless: a dreamer but not much of a do-er. I'm painfully average- you know: I love to cook and hate to fold laundry, I talk too much about myself and wish I had a bigger car/house/yard/life.  I read a lot and drink too much coffee. I take a lot of pictures. Most of all, I praise God that I get to spend my days with these two boys.

Eric is my husband- we've been together for eight and a half years, married seven of those. How time flies. He has less hair and more mojo than when we first met. Now, he works all the time bringing home the bacon so we can have this modest life together.

The big boy is Seth Fisher- he goes by Seth or "hey you". The baby is Elias Hawk- mostly Hawk or "baby brother", though sometimes I like to call him "Butterbean".

That picture was taken in the autumn of 2013, right after Hawk was born (isn't that yawn just so adorable?) and immediately before the Halloween that Seth dressed up like Superman. The year before that, he was a fireman. Before that, he was a purple monster and a baby skeleton before that. This year, he wants to be a refrigerator- don't ask. I couldn't explain him if I tried.

I used to work. You know, for pay. I came home about two years ago, and I feel like I've been wandering ever since: just trying to figure out what I'm doing here on this planet.

I'm a hopeless aesthete.
aes·thete [es-theet or, esp. British, ees-]
a person who has or professes to have refined sensitivity toward the beauties of art or nature.
a person who affects great love of art, music, poetry, etc., and indifference to practical matters. (Source)
To witness art makes my heart soar. A song can make me weep for hours and a poem can bury itself so deeply in me that I'm stunned speechless. Language moves me- a sunset can change my future- I want more beauty, more sensation, more more more of all this life can offer.

I used to feel guilty about that. Like, shouldn't I just be happy with things the way they are? Why do I always have to be looking for beautiful things? Am I too materialistic?

I've come to realize that each of us has a certain proclivity for discontent, and perhaps my affection for good design and pretty things is a symptom of something deeper.


See, God made humans to be near to Him. And he is ultimate beauty- Divine Perfection. He is the original Artist and the most perfectly formed Art. I believe that all of us were born with the innate desire to get closer to Him. We will seek Him everywhere, without even knowing that He is the object of the chase.

This is my prayer for this blog, and for each of you:

May we each seize the discontent inherent in our souls and take it to a place where it breeds beautiful things: love for people, help for the hurting, healing for the sick. May God Himself show up in this place, revealing freshness and bringing newness of life to all the dead and dying parts of us, so that we can reflect Him to the world around us. May we never cease to seek beauty, and may we always find it in Him.

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