One of the Ninety and Nine

The past month has been filled with lots of stress. Andrew has loaded himself up with 16 credits this quarter, of which we are both feeling the pressure. I have had both a colonoscopy and an endoscopy to which no conclusions were found to what my consistent stomach pains are. Oliver has started to throw more toddler-like tantrums proving himself to not be a little infant anymore.

But despite the stresses of it all, we've been pretty okay. Food has always filled our bellies and clothes have clothed our backs. We've enjoyed each other's company when the stressful things are just pushed aside for a little while. We've felt edified at church each week and have felt the Spirit in the home through family home evening and scripture study.

As I've done what I'm supposed to do and had faith like I'm supposed to, I've somehow felt myself feeling like just a number.

Just another person with problems and worries. Just another mom who is dealing with diaper rash and trying to get her kid to eat vegetables. Just another person that shows up on Sundays at church and performs her duties like she's asked. Just another person trying to endure this life in a way that is pleasing to our Heavenly Father. Just another person.

How could my worries of whatever my stomach pain is possibly matter to a God that has created worlds without end? How could a tough day of tantrums matter to a God who can command the land and seas to do His will? How could my fears and worries seem like anything to a God who has children having FAR worse problems than my own to worry about?

To sum it up, I've been feeling like a spec of dust. Just another face in the crowd. Just one of the ninety and nine.

I grew up listening to Michael McLean. I always thought his music was wonderful and profound, but I never could really relate to it.

Until today.

This line has rung truth in my ears.

Ya, I might be a mom who has average worries and average problems. Ya, I might be just another regular church-goer, not getting myself in trouble. And ya, I might be one of the ninety and nine.

But I am His. I am worth infinitely more to my Heavenly Father than I will ever know. I am not just any face in the crowd- I'm His little Sarah. I am His daughter and He always has and always will claim me as such.

And my life just doesn't mean anything to Him.

It means EVERYTHING  to Him.



The Impossible Challenge of Member Missionary Work

I know what most of you are thinking. Ugh. Member missionary stuff. Don't worry, I totally understand you. 'Member Missionary' just sounds like an impossible challenge that only those with serious dedication can accomplish. Am I right? The thoughts of trying to baptize your next door neighbor or that lady from your playgroup or the nice waiter at the restaurant not only sounds near impossible, but also quite terrifying. Trust me, I get it. 


Rediscovering Reality

The last month has been full of a lot of ups and downs for my little family. With realtives visiting, Andrew trudging through a summer semester, and a not-so-happy-teething baby (I swear that kid teethes 24/7), we've kind of been running on fumes. The busyness of everything has really dampened my creativity and my spirits. 


Too Busy for Christ

In the past few weeks, we have been beyond busy. Between vacations, birthday parties, church callings, college, re-arranging the entire house, hours of important phone calls, and oh ya, being a mom, I've felt like there has been no time to even sleep. I'm actually surprised I'm able to have time to occasionally write my thoughts every once and a while. I'm sure we all have those times throughout the year where the to-do list is longer than the hours of the day.