I promise...

To never stop looking at you like it's the very first time I'm laying eyes on you.
To always be your safe place to land.
To always keep that balance between butting heads and letting you have your way.
That you'll always get your way.
I promise to never stop thinking you're a masterpiece.
A work of art, all of you.
The backs of your hands.
Your jaw line.
The way you furrow your eyebrows when you're absorbing some bit of information.
I promise to never stop singing you Coldplay lyrics.
To always listen to you, encourage you, believe in you.
To always see that greatness within you, even and especially when you can't.
I love the way you hold the steering wheel.
The way you drag your feet exactly like I do.
The way you crack up at the same dumb stuff as me.
I love your wit.
The sharp, unapologetic way you challenge me and make me want to be better.
Your tenderness.
Thank you for finally convincing me that I'm safe.
That you'll never let anyone or anything hurt me.
Thank you for being that constant, stable rock I can cling to in the midst of
a thrashing sea.
Thank you for being you. And loving that I exist and I'm me.
I couldn't have dreamed of anything better.

PS: They say Rome is lovely in the fall.

Without you it's a waste of time.

So this is my life and I'm going to be okay. I'm going to be better than okay. In fact, so beyond okay. So much better than any okay I could've possibly imagined on my own. I'm learning more and more every day that God's got me. That He's got this, all of this. It seems like such an elementary lesson to learn...like, duh, Sarah. Of course God's got this. Where've you been? But it's a big deal for me. It's a big deal for me to finally, truly, with-all-of-my-heart be trusting God. With everything. Not just saying I do, not just hoping I do. But really realizing that He has the best for me. That He's going to take care of me. That His plans are good. So, so good. Again, it seems so basic and simple. But it's...it's taken a long time. And I'm nowhere near finished. I'm still afraid sometimes. Inside, I still see so much work that needs to be done. Inside, I'm still very much that little girl that's waiting...just waiting, dreading, for it all to be ripped away from her. Still thinking of all that can go bad, of all that can be lost. Because I've come so close, so many times. I've come so close to losing so much. So, it's...it's almost like a reflex now. A gritted teeth kind of bracing yourself. Hoping it won't happen, but being tensed up just in case it does. It's fear. And it's something that I'm giving, slowly but surely, up to Him. Some days more than others, but every day.
But I love looking back, even just over the past year, and seeing how much has changed for the better. I love seeing all that's fallen into place, that's changed, that's grown, or been broken off. I love liking where I am, how far I've come, how far He's brought me. I love looking back and saying, "Yes, Lord. I see why it happened like this, because if that hadn't happened, this never would have. I see it now." It brings me such joy, such peace, to know that God is leading me, gently. That He has never, ever let me go and that He's using everything, everything to shape me.
Again, this all seems so simple. Like such a small step. I can't explain why it's been such a huge journey for me. But it has been.
Also, random, but there's something so beautifully incredible about realizing that God hears your prayers. Every single one. He was listening that whole time. To every word. Every single cry of your heart. For comfort, for things to work out, for your future spouse. Everything. He was listening to you. That's...that's just so awesome to me. That He cares so much to not just hear me out, but to actually give me those desires of my heart that I talked with Him about. He loves me so much, so much that He's going to meet my every need. Work absolutely everything out according to His will, which is the absolute best way for things to go.
Ahhhh. I'm just a little kid sometimes. Still so wide-eyed and in awe of, still so surprised by those things that should be, well, obvious. There's so much to learn. So much to catch with these open, outstretched hands. And I'm so excited. So, so excited.

Maybe I'm predictable. But, here, a list of, well, random things that have made up my life in the past few months/weeks:
-Coldplay. So much Coldplay. Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh <3 <3 <3 <3
-Whipped cream. That's one of my favorite parts of making people's drinks. It's like a special treat when they ask for whipped cream. I can't explain it, I just love spraying it. The shhhh noise it makes. And I actually really like it on my lattes, the whipped cream kinda mixes with the foam, it's just...boss.
-Graphic tees from the boys section at Target. They have better ones, so I buy them.
-Driving around. It wastes gas. But I do my best thinking in the car. It's a good prayer time too.
-Oh, um. Twitter. I got one. It was really fun and cool for like three days. Now it's just another thing to check on my phone when I'm waiting in line at Starbucks.
Hmmm. I guess that's it. My life's pretty boring. I'm a tad disappointed that I don't have any really cool stuff to add to the list. But eh, it's cool. I'm just living my life.
"Questions of science, science and progress, do not speak as loud as my heart..."

Things that got me through last winter.

Winter's great. Yeah. I mean, who doesn't love freezing to death ALL the time, especially when you're in your own home? And, I mean, what's better than being late to everything all the time because your car's windshield, windows, and friggin' doors are frozen solid? Not to mention static-y hair, dry skin, and those oh-so-alluring perpetually-chapped lips? Attractive. But, okay, if you're me, you need little things to get you through those seemingly endless, icy, blah months without losing your mind.
So, here's what kept me sane last winter:
-How I Met Your Mother. "Because this is gonna be LEGEN---Wait for it...Wait for it...YOU BETTER NOT BE LACTOSE INTOLERANT 'CUZ THE LAST PART OF THIS SENTENCE IS---DARY."
-Coconut Records. "'Cuz I miss you, I'm goin' back home to the West Coast..."
-Skins US. Because nothing helps take your mind off the frozen wasteland that is your life during those winter months better than a train wreck of a television show about stupid-yet-somehow-loveable teenagers behaving badly. Okay, the word "badly" may be a bit of an understatement...
-Flight of the Conchords. Business Time. Jenny. Albi the Racist Dragon. "Don't touch me tail, you'll make it dirty!" WEAK!
-Shiver and Linger by Maggie Stiefvater. I will never settle for anything less than a Sam and Grace kind of love.
-Russell Brand. He's so witty and actually kind of charming.
-Noxzema. Just because. I liked the smell.
-Cursive. No, not the near-extinct writing style. They're a band. A really weird one. But I like them. "LET. ME. UUUUUUUP."
-Mockingjay by Suzanne Collins. Thank you for robbing me of sleep for three nights straight. It was worth it, I always loved Peeta. I'd take the guy that bakes bread and paints over the guy that kills things any day. Favorite line? "Peeta and I grow back together."
-Band of Horses. The Funeral. Is there a ghost. Yes.
-Nail polish. So much nail polish.

The forecast for what's going to be keeping me from taking the sub-arctic leap this coming winter:
-Big Bang. Raj, Sheldon, Leonard, and Howard are the guys I would've sat with at lunch in high school.
-The Dear Hunter. You probably already know about my deep, undying love for this band. If I could marry a voice, it would be Casey Crescenzo's. He would sing me to sleep every single night.
-The Scorpio Races by Maggie Siefvater. Maybe? Yes? We'll see. But I have to read it, there's no way that I can't.
-More nail polish. Because I have a problem. But I don't care.
-Tylenol pm. What could be so wrong with tranquilizing yourself on those nights where you're just too wound up to fall asleep on your own? Judging me? It's cool.
-Tea. And espresso. So much espresso. I can already tell.
-National Geographic. Because I love it. So much. I love reading about how you're never, EVER by yourself when you're in Bangladesh and Kenyan orphanages for baby elephants and Gengis Khan's descendants and what's being done about fistula, child brides, cholera in Haiti, so on and so forth. Tell me. Tell me more, NatGeo.
-Emergen-C. I've always been kind of a sickly thing, so I drink one every day (especially in the winter) to keep my immune system strong. The flavor of this month is mango. I'm planning to try pink lemonade, pomegranate, raspberry, and lemon lime. Might as well spice up my fizzy anti-itis drank by experimenting with different flavors. I like to keep things exciting, you know.
-Painting. Thank you, Gloria. You re-awakened my passion for it. :)

Well, that's all I got. We'll see what the coming months bring. Stay tuned.

Forever by Maggie Stiefvater

"It was the knowledge that I was surrounded by adults with lives that I could never imagine living. It was the humming noise inside me that told me to do SOMETHING and found nothing to do that meant anything, the bit of me that was like a fly smashing itself again and again on a windowpane. It was the futility of aging. It was a piano piece gotten right the first time... It was roads that ended in cul-de-sacs and careers that ended with desks and songs screamed in a gymnasium at night. It was the realization that this was life, and I didn't belong here."

This is how it should be.

You're disarming.
You. Your kindness.
Your kindness that is given for no reason other than that I exist and I am a woman.
Chivalry? Really?
I thought it was dead. But it's alive enough to steal my breath away.
You are gentle. Soft. Because a woman is fragile. Precious.
A beautiful thing.
Do you know how dizzying it is to be treated like that? Like a priceless treasure?
I'm not used to being caught. Ever.
The feeling of being snatched from gravity. The feel of your arms steadying me.
You asking, "You okay?"
Now I am.
This is what a man is, you've shown me.
It's your gentleness that makes you so strong.

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.