The colors of my heart

This has not been the world’s best week. Actually, it’s been very up and down. I feel a little like an emotional rag doll. These are some of the emotional colors of me week:


I got to meet Christianne and Kirk face-to-face which was very special. They’re both so cool. Maybe I’ll write more about that later, but it was good. I wished it could have been more, because I was tired and just beginning to process having lost the turtle that night (and I didn’t know yet how much it hurt), so I felt like my heart was all over the place. There’s nothing to apologize for there, but it doesn’t mean I don’t wish I’d been well-rested and centered.


I’m stuck on the novel and I’m not sure why. I’ve written all the parts where I know what happened and the rest aren’t coming. Maybe I need to take a break, but maybe I need to jump in and put words on the paper until the right ones come. That’s something that has made writing hard–I want to be gentle with myself, to give myself what I need, but I’m not always sure what that is. I don’t know my writing rhythms yet, because I haven’t done this before. So I’m trial-and-erroring my way through.

I think I’m scared to finish it. Because then I have to revise, which is a process that I fight with and I’m not sure why. And then I have to decide if this is something I want to try to sell or if it’s not ready, if I’m not ready. I’ve learned that the writing I can do…but I don’t know about the rest. So there are some psychological barriers there. But I’m also tired. For the amount of writing time I have, I’ve been going through this more hell-bent-for-leather than anything else. So maybe I just need a rest.


I think that I am where I am in life because God wants me to learn to just be me, not defined by anything that I do, but just me, whole, wherever I am. I long for that life. But I don’t see myself getting there for quite a while. Does that mean I have to stay here until I do? Blah. All the same, it might be worth it to wake up one morning with wings.


The turtle got lost.

The turtle got found.


Work is hard. I have my biggest event yet coming up next weekend and I don’t want to do it. I’m praying through it and trying to just be with myself but I still don’t want it. I’m afraid it will suck, that something will fall apart, but I also know that being a hostess is not me. I mean, I love talking to people, but I hate being the one who has to put together food for people and make small talk. I wish I could just get to know each person one-on-one–much more my thing.

On the other hand, work is under control. I feel like I have a handle on things, like I’m making changes that make sense in how we do things, like I’m slowly cleaning the place up and getting it into an order I can deal with. And that’s a good feeling.


I’m tired. The allergies are still keeping me awake at night, and now the heat is, too.

Dave and I have had one of those weeks where we go from really enjoying each other to really annoying each other really fast (and no, I could not have used ‘really’ any more times in that sentence!). We’re not always like that, and it’s hard when we are. I think it has something to do with the general tiredness level in our house.


I read The Kite Runner and I don’t know what I think. Sad, transformative, redemptive, all in the same pages. And with an ending that was true to life in its unsureness, it’s hope in the darkness, it’s already-and-not-yet.

The heart is a many-splendor’d thing.



Filed under Becoming

11 responses to “The colors of my heart

  1. Tammy

    This is cool Sarah, talk about a splash of color. This is especially meaningful to me because i am continuing to write things about being color blind. You made color come alive. Love ya

  2. sarah, i love how you think of yourself in such creative ways, describing your interior in terms of tangible and/or knowable things: writing, running, colors, flowers, trees, etc.

    it sounds like the week was full, & not all of it welcome fullness. blah, indeed. i feel your dread on this upcoming event: i am sooooo not the “hostess with the mostest” type either. no thank you.

    i finished the kite runner last week, also and felt the same: there’s the palest glimmer of hope at the end, which is welcome after so much darkness & despair. it is a welcome pinprick of light.

    and really really really … :o)

    … i hope you are well, that you will learn what it means this week to be gentle with yourself, that you will slowly begin to uncover what your process is for writing.


  3. hello, my friend.

    okay, so i’ll start with the obvious and say that i had no idea you were in such a hard place when we met that night. gosh, dang it. that is the place i would have liked to sit with, instead of pushing question after question on you about isf. man, it makes me sad to hear that you were in a hard spot and i didn’t even see it. urgh. i’m so sorry, friend, for your hard day and hard week, and sorry that i did not meet you there.

    so much here this week for you. it sounds like you’re just keeping head above water. i guess my word of encouragement to you is my hope for spots of respite, cool breeze and shade in tiny moments, despite the surrounding pulls for your attention and emotion. or perhaps i should say, in the midst of them, rather than despite them.

  4. that’s quite a palette for one week. no wonder you’re tired. i’ve been alternating between beige and sort of a pale blue for a while now. *sigh* take care dear.

  5. Now I have Mood Indigo in my head.
    Yay on the found turtle!
    It’s hard to keep doing what God wants us to be doing–to be able to hear Him and to persevere. Writing is hard. It’s a long process, and sometimes, it’s painful. Keep at it, girl!
    Sometimes, you need to step away for a few days, I think. Live life. Get out.
    Sometimes you need to push through it and write words even when they (and you) feel stupid.
    That’s what I’m figuring out. And I’m figuring out which one to do when.
    Some of the things that you’re saying remind me of what another blogging buddy’s saying about her writing and role in life. You can read her thoughts on this here (the struggle) and here (the resolution). She talks about a children’s book by Max Lucado called A Hat for Ivan about learning who God made you to be. I haven’t read it, but from what she said, I’d like to.

  6. Thanks so much to all of you. It helps my heart a lot to hear your words. Please know that every one of them has spoken love to me.

    That said, this is a nutzo week with a big event that I’m not too excited about all next weekend. I’m taking some time off from blogland…not reading, but commenting and writing. My heart can’t do it all.

    I often wish you all were here, if only because it would be so much easier if we could have dinner and just talk, you know? (I also wish you were here because, you know, I care, I like you all, I love you). But you’re not, sadly, so it’s harder. Know that I’m hovering around, even when I’m not very vocal.

  7. Di

    white wisps of feathery things
    feel the thickening
    shadow of His
    be still
    and know
    this covering
    uplifting you

  8. Tammy

    Sarah I have reconsidered the turtle thing now. Wow i did not know it was all that hassle. Maybe someday. Anyway, i love that you named your turtle cummings how cool is that?

  9. oh, do take care of yourself sarah. and no worries about comments and all that. hope all goes better than you can possibly imagine…

  10. Gayle

    If you do not know what to do, it isn’t time yet.

    Told to me by a very wise man. But there is a way to be clearer on what you do want.

    Sit and write – in a journal or in a new file. But but allow yourself time – time to write past all of the distractions, the jumping monkeys, the pink elephants, the ideas of have-to, and should-do, and shiny things that the world puts out there to hide what’s in your heart.

    It takes time, sometimes as little as 5 minutes, sometimes hours. But if you will be honest with yourself, you will eventually find out what is at the heart of your insomnia, your fear of finishing, or your base of your insecurities. It may involve tears, or laughter, or anger. It might go back to when you were 3, or have happened yesterday. But if you will sit with it, writing anything, everything that comes to mind, becoming merely an observer, your heart will have an opportunity to speak to you.


  11. Thanks, Gayle. Those ARE wise words indeed.

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