When I need to work through the mess I've become inside, I write. So. Here.

What I'd thought was a detour actually turned out to be a shortcut.
I'm so grateful.

I'm so grateful God has me in His hands. That He's never taken His hand off me, not once my entire life. He's been fighting for me since before I was even an idea. Before my father, when he was a young boy in his tiny Iranian village, decided that yes, the name Sarah would be nice for a daughter. I'd like to name my girl that one day. Before everything, God picked me out for a specific purpose. A purpose that has Sarah Juliet Mortazavi etched all over its face. A special, beautiful call that's irrevocably, undeniably, perfectly mine.
Why, then, do I have such a hard time believing He loves me and is going to give me the best of everything? Why can't I trust Him ALWAYS? I've been thinking about this for a while now and I hate it. I hate that I still have these fears, this anxiety. This sickening feeling of dread, that no matter what I do, no matter how good I am, I'm going to do something wrong and mess up my life for good. I can't even really explain what I mean. It's just this sense of futility. That God's goodness and favor are reliant on me being good enough and that I'm never going to be good enough.
And it's not even that I think God is up there, angry, waiting to smite me. I don't think that at all. I just think that I don't deserve His love because, well, I'm a messed up kid. I've known darkness. I've been depressed, I've hated, I've cursed, I've lusted, I've judged. And even when I'm told I'm forgiven, I'm haunted. I'm haunted by what I've done. And will still do, probably every day until I die.
But why is it so easy for me to tell everyone else that OF COURSE God will forgive them and work everything out for their good and that He loves them unconditionally? Why do I think that His love is any different in my case? He's the same God. The rules don't change just because it's me. What kind of witness is that? I dish all of it out but then I don't expect it to be true for myself? That makes no sense.
Yet I still freak out at every storm. "God, don't You love me?" "Don't you hear my prayers?" "Don't you care about me?" "Haven't I been good enough? Why are You letting this happen?"
I hate this. I hate this wind-knocked-out-of-me realization that I have, like, no faith. And this...this fear that overshadows me. All the time, fear about everything and nothing. Why? Because there's so much bad. So much can go wrong, and has gone wrong in my life. And it makes me afraid. It makes me think, constantly, of all that could happen, all that I could lose, all that could hurt me and the ones I love so much. THIS IS NOT A WAY TO LIVE.
And yet, here I am.
But I'm not alone. I'm never alone. Even when I was just a tiny newborn, my insides hardly formed because of a premature birth, too weak to fight. Too young to even know what this thing I needed to fight for, life, even was. He fought for me. He healed me. He snatched me away from death, from disabilities, from sickness. He made me whole when doctors said I would be blind, paralyzed, deaf, mentally handicapped. When I was sick all the time as a child and missed so much school that the teachers were constantly worried that I would be held back a grade, He made me sharp enough to keep up. He made me like my Dad, in that way that people are effortlessly smart, without having to be taught. Not that I'm bragging, I'm not. But He helped me. He kept His hand on me. I think back to sooooo many times that I could have died. Unnamed illnesses that would hit me out of nowhere and no one else, injuries from skateboarding, yes, but other random incidences too. Even when I wasn't walking with Him, when I was a horrible, depressed, hypocritical mess of a girl, He protected me. And He shook me out of it so quickly. I'm so grateful for that. I'm so grateful He protected me from myself.
Even now, when it seems like each year brings more challenges than the one before it, I look back and see how much He's brought me through. I see how much He's protected me from and how much He's truly heard me. Loved me.
I'm getting there. I'm working on getting that God loves me. I'm working on not being so sin-conscious to the point that I drive myself crazy. I'm learning to trust Him. And I'm praying that this fear, these worries, will be ripped out of me soon. But it's not something I can just, you know, do. I've tried, believe me. I need God's help.
So, this is me. Messed up. In love with and afraid of the Most High God.
Just pray. Please. Pray that I get that my sins are paid for. Some days I do. But some days I count up all that I've done and I'm just so sure that I've wrecked my life for good. But I haven't. I know I haven't. Ugh. I can't even explain this. It's like I have all this head knowledge. But my fearful heart that's seen and endured so much has trouble reconciling with the stuff my brain tells it.
It's just stupid. It is. God loves us. Me. He took the penalty for MY sins. Every single one, no matter how unspeakably bad. I deserved hell. And now I'm not getting it. Because His sacrifice redeemed me. He gives me favor and works everything out for my good. Even when I think otherwise, I always look back and say, "oh, that's why He did that. That's what He was doing." And then I feel really dumb for not trusting Him.
But I'm learning. Slowly but surely. I'm growing. I can see that. But it takes time. And sometimes I feel like for every step forward there's three more steps back. But this path I'm on is winding. It changes all the time. And it seems like those times I think I'm most lost are the times I'm actually exactly, smack in the middle of where He wants me. There's peace in realizing that.

I just remembered something worth writing down.

It was still early in the summer. Maybe the beginning of July. I remember I'd been skateboarding with Shannon all afternoon because it was one of the days she had off from work. Okay, okay, I'd been skateboarding. Shannon had been, well, trying. (LOVE YOUUUU lol :D)
So anyway, I came home, exhausted and starving but too lazy to come up with something to eat. So instead, I got on Facebook and wasted a few minutes messing around on there. Then, my brother came home. He came in through the garage door, which is right by the office so, of course, I looked up and said hi. He says hey and then holds up a bag. McDonald's. He says, "Do you want this? You can have it. I can't eat it." I'm like, "sure..?!" completely taken off guard.
So he hands it to me and I open it and WHAT is inside of it but a 20 piece chicken nugget meal WITH fries. I LOVE CHICKEN NUGGETS. I was for real so moved by his kindness, I almost wanted to cry. For him to just...just give me something. It made me happier than he will ever know or understand.
It seems so silly. But. That little, random hand-out was the most my brother had said to me in five years.

Because you can't be caught red handed if you're not red handed.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mYl6MzmVz0Q&NR=1

The Dear Hunter. So much talent. So much passion. I LOVE IT ALL SO MUCH. SOOOO MUCH. For real, words are failing me right now. Everything about this band is so right. They've restored my faith in music.
If you can create a whole different world with just your voice and a guitar, you are gifted. Truly gifted. Casey Crescenzo, I escape into your words. I hide there.
They deserve so much more fame than they have right now, and yet I'm torn. I'd almost prefer they stay how they are, this sweet secret that only the few that are worthy and deserving are allowed to know about. But I know they're going to be huge. I know they are. It will kill me a little bit, but I'll be mostly happy. They deserve to be known about. I just only want worthy people to listen. People that understand it, not people that listen to it just because it's "the thing" to be listening to. No. Just no. Listen because it's romantic and aching and beautiful and sad. Listen because this man's voice takes you to a place you, in your heart, have always known, but are still just discovering.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ztt1svz0hd0&NR=1

Of late I dream of my daughters.

So, decided not to delete my Facebook. Do I feel like I copped-out? Yes. But oh well. I'd miss hearing from people I care about every day that I otherwise wouldn't be able to contact. But, mark my words, I WILL be getting off of it soon. Just not right now.
It's October. Which means we're one step closer to my FAVORITE month of the entire year, NOVEMBER. Ahh, I love it. So much. There's just something so right about it. The leaves have all changed, the air is crisp and lovely, and there's all that Thanksgiving and Christmas joy to look forward to! I'll probably get married in November.
Now, a list of my favorite baby names (because this is my blog and I do what I want):
-Boys' names-
Zane.
Judah.
Noor.
Nikhil.
-Girls' names-
Baya.
Nova.
Laila.
Tessa.
Roya.
Soraya.
Monet.
Sage.
The ones in bold are the ones I really, really hope I get to use. I've always loved unique names. But if any of my names get popular, I'm going to die a little bit inside.

The Dear Hunter's coming to Richmond November 16th. I HAVE TO GO. I'm going to blow so much money on shirts and stickers and CD's. But I will regret nothing.