Hallelujahs in the morning. Hallelujahs in the night.

I will wait for You there
Down on my knees where I met You
Give You all of my cares
Find a grace to hold onto now
Im calling for You
I will wait for You there
far from the world and its violence
It left us broken and bare
I need to hear You in the silence now
Im calling for You
And with outstretched arms
I will sing out melodies
And my beating heart
Will pour out a symphony
Hallelujahs in the morning
Hallelujahs in the night
I will wait for you as long as I have life
I will wait for You there
Down On my knees where I met you
Cause life is a war fought with tears
But You are the strength I hold onto now

Im calling for You now.

This Phil Wickham song randomly came up today on my itunes as I was sitting in Peets. I hadn't actually listened to the words before. Tears instantly came streaming down my face.

I think it's because right now I am calling for Him. And I am down on my knees, where I continually go to meet with Him. Ive been reading alot of the Gospels and it's so beautiful how often people fall on their knees before Jesus. Such a humbling position. I NEED TO HEAR YOU IN THE SILENCE NOW.

But I feel like I'm not listening. How does one learn how to listen to the Maker of the universe? Is it even something you can learn? Or do I just need to be patient enough to sit in the silence, the discomfort, the pain? WITH OUTSTRETCHED ARMS I WILL SING OUT MELODIES AND MY BEATING HEART WILL POUR OUT A SYMPHONY.

You are the strength I hold onto now.

And then this song came up a few minutes later by JJ Heller.

I'm trying to follow
I'm trying my best to do what you said
But what about tomorrow
Are you sure I'm not in over my head

Everything is changing all around me
Is this the ending of a dream
I thought I was doing what you wanted
It isn't as easy as it seemed

I'm losing my vision
I'm fighting the doubting with all that I am
It's been awhile since you last gave me something
To go on
Tell me it's not the end

It seemed like I did everything right
Now I see that it's all wrong
Do you want me to move on
Can you tell me where I belong

 

The Lord your God, who is going before you, will FIGHT FOR YOU, before your very eyes, and in the desert. It was in the desert that you saw how the Lord your God carried you, as a father carries his son, all the way you went until you reached this place.-Deuteronomy 1:30-31

1740 S. Proctor

I love this address. It has been my home for 24 years. But the word "home" is changing to me. Mount Hermon is the place that I now consider my home. 1740 S. Proctor, or "Little House on the Proctor"  that we lovingly call it, is now just sort of the place I visit a few times a year, where my parents live, and where I store years and years worth of memories.

Today was the best day. I did all my favorite Tacoma summer things. Let me give you a little peek into my world.

Waking up late, stumbling downstairs, filling a big bowl with all sorts of fresh fruit, and heading outside to sit in the early afternoon sun.

Reading for hours on the porch swing.

Painting my toes and letting them dry in the sun.

Showering and letting my hair dry in wild and crazy ways because I know the only people I'll see that day is my family.

Listening to the little neighbor kids play in the backyard literally from 7am until when they have to go to bed. I love this because not only is the childish laughter so infectious, but their antics remind me of 8 year old Sarah, romping around the back of the house, making "stews" out of rotton apples from the ground under our apple tree, sticks, dirt, and leaves. I love sitting outside listening to Kylee, Isabelle, and baby Joe. I wonder if they will ever know how happy they make me, how they push me to remember what it's like to be young and uninhibited.

Dad making one of his famous salads and bringing me fresh veggies (like today whenI was painting and he came around me and placed pea pods on the bench besides me saying "One pea, two pea, three pea..." :)

Watching mom make a new batch of iced tea every morning, adding her "simple syrup" and filling up huge glasses, gulping it down and refilling them all throughout the day.

Laying in bed with Mom watching stupid late night TV shows and eating rootbeer and banana popsicles.

Riding my bike to the corner store for candy. I've been doing this since I can remember. It once was painted bright blue so we called it "The Blue Store" but then they painted it this weird gold color. But the name stuck. They have painted it countless colors over the years but we will always call it the Blue store.

This is just the tip of the iceburg of the summer memories I have in this place, not to mention all the other memories I have collected over the years. What I love is that no matter where I go...Ellensburg, Africa, Santa Cruz....I always return home and feel the most like me.