Vocations, they don't come easy

I had this brief exchange with a customer at work the other day. It wasn't the first time I've had a conversation like this, and it will not be the last:

Customer: So what grade are you in?
Me (grinning mischievously): I'm in grad school, sir.
Customer (clearly stunned!): No kidding? Where at and what for?
Me: Denver Seminary. Divinity.
Customer: Damn! (Backtracks) I mean, uh, dang, that's intense (I think it's hilarious when people instantly clean themselves up around me when they find out I'm in seminary!). Whatya wanna do with that?
Me (trying to keep the line moving so I don't get in trouble): Chaplaincy.
Customer: Military?
Me: Rape crisis center.
Customer (clearly blown away): Wow. You've got quite a future ahead of you, kid.

I am a unique force to reckon with, that is for sure. Poor guy, he probably thought nothing of making a little small talk with the broke ex-college student who is ringing up his sandwich. Boy did he get a surprise!

I love how brief exchanges with strangers like this can teach you a lot about the inaccuracy of first impressions. I remember feeling similar shock when a blonde, peppy acquaintance whom I honestly wrote off as vapid and ditzy told me she wanted to be a biochemist. That lead me to think about how people are not always what they seem...the private battles we fight behind publicly projected images of calm, cool, and collected...the battles that may or may not lead to occupational callings. And that, friends, is what lead me to the idea for my next book:

Two teenage girls, two experiences with sexual assault: one committed by a stranger, the other by a boyfriend. Neither girl quite believes the other when she shares her story: wasn’t she ‘asking for it’ by walking home alone so late at night? Why didn’t she just end the relationship if he really treated her that way?

Insert Title Here is a raw, emotional book that explores the impact of rape culture on modern society. Told in alternating perspectives from two survivors, it unpacks the common myths of sexual assault, revealing important truths that every woman needs to know.

Yes, barely six months after the publication of the first one, I've gone and started another. I'm already 90 pages into the manuscript, and I imagine this one will appeal to a much wider audience than the first. But this isn't a "fun" book to write; rather, I think it's a necessary one. I toyed with the idea of writing from the perspective of both the victim and the perpetrator, but decided against it because really, I have no idea what goes on in the heads of the kind of men who prey on women. I can only write about what I know...but even that is one-sided. There are so many ways to address this complex, controversial, multifaceted issue.

So, a great deal of research and maybe some imagination is required for this piece...but I'm eager to do it. No, I haven't signed up for an "easy life" (whatever that is) with lots of cushioning and lots of cash. It's been said that I tend to make things harder for myself than is necessary. This is only because my experiences of searing private pain have driven me to want to help others with theirs.

Here's the thing about me and writing: if it's important to me, it has to go on paper. Otherwise, it's like the experience (whatever it may be) never happened. Or that the person who confided in me about something doesn't matter to me. Therefore, I have a feeling that most of my books (yes, I plan on writing for as long as my hands work!) will be, in the words of that customer, "intense." There's a time and a place for "vacation literature," the kind you can enjoy without having to think too much, but there's waaaay too much chaos in my head to produce any of that, at least for the time being. I'll keep my light, airy ideas to my blog for now :)

Also, should anyone have an idea for a title for this new book, PLEASE let me know!

SB

The rare moment your dreams are replaced by something better

Yes, it actually can happen. 

How often does the average person get to say she has almost nothing (severe) to complain about? That everything is, for once, going better than she ever dared to imagine?

It feels so deliciously dangerous to say that. I've been superstitious for far too long. I sincerely believed (though I would never say so out loud) that the moment I opened my arms and declared "I AM HAPPY!" Satan would chuckle and say "HA! Only a matter of time, girl. Better watch it."

Now, I think I'm finally at a place where I can tell ol' Satan to shove it. 

Recap of this last week: sold every book at the signing (okay, so only ten copies were ordered...guess the Learned Owl was serious when they told me religious books don't sell very well. BUT, they were all bought within the first 15 minutes and additional copies were ordered from the store's database...sounds like success to me!).

I want to thank all my childhood heroes -- Belle, Matilda, and Harriet the Spy for encouraging my love of reading and writing! Couldn't have done this without you guys!

I deposited my first royalty check yesterday. Just under $160! 39 books in all sold over the last 2 months. And then I got interviewed by the Akron Beacon Journal! I don't know how my little book got their attention, but I almost fell out of my chair when the reporter asked if she could do a story on me. Good thing it wasn't a recorded interview. It was probably not very professional to squeak "Really? Really?!!" about five times before answering any questions. My voice went up a few octaves with nervousness and excitement, I probably sounded like a dying mouse on helium. And I probably rambled too much. But I'll do better next time. *knocks on wood*

And finally...one more triumph...I got an awesome opportunity to make some money for my jewelry-making. Check it out!

That's from a place called B. Lux Boutique in Hudson. Haven't sold anything yet, but the display has only been up for a few days. So between the book sales and now my jewelry...I get to afford groceries this semester! Yay!!!

Not a bad way to close this "gap year," I think. Not bad at all.

The Jewish girl who dreamed of saints

An alternative title for my book probably would have been "The Jewish Girl Who Dreamed of Saints." I could have elaborated on that theme for 200 pages just as much as the theme of being a prodigal daughter. I tried to weave them together, but in some places I thought it might have been overkill. So I only mentioned my fascination with Saint Joan of Arc in particular once in the beginning, when I was a little kid and thought I was reincarnated as her (don't ask), and again when I was 21 and visited her memorial in Rouen, where she was executed.

I've never prayed to saints before, or wanted to be confirmed in the name of one (so no, I'm not becoming Catholic). But I've always been fascinated by them. Most likely because, unlike Jesus, they were fully human, fully flawed individuals who still stood up for their faith, many under pain of death. Thus, they seemed more real and approachable to me growing up than a man who was known to be without sin. So I always enjoyed reading about them...but for some reason, it was Joan who stuck out to me more than any other.

Maybe it's because she was still technically a kid when she died. Maybe it's out of morbid curiousity of how she died. I can't really say. But she is a reminder that God is more powerful than any hopeless circumstance. And in her case, being poor, illiterate, and female in 15th-century France was more of a stumbling block than my financial troubles, relationship struggles, and identity crises.

I actually give her much of the credit for inspiring me to remain a virgin until marriage. And when I was thoroughly convinced that I would never marry, I looked to her story even more for inspiration and solace. But in a world where celibacy is considered outdated, and religious fervor is practically equivalent with insanity, her story loses some of its resonance. At a time in my life when I am more than susceptible to temptations, and am once again re-considering my romantic future, it almost seems as if I've outgrown her. And that saddens me, because it feels like losing a part of myself. I even considered making Joan my middle name once, but decided against it because I just didn't like how it paired with Sarahbeth. I wanted to make her legacy part of my identity.

Maybe it's good that I am maturing and re-considering the plans I had before. The downside of admiring someone who died young is not having any way to know how she would have turned out if she had died of natural causes. There is no way of knowing how her life plans may have changed after the war was over. In the case of my own life, it is no surprise that my views on things have been modified with age. That is exactly what is supposed to happen.

Yet, I still pay homage to my childhood hero by watching the 1999 TV movie (my favorite film adaption so far) on this day, her feast day. Weird? Maybe. But my life story is not exactly conventional, as was hers.

Joy re-discovered

I am acutely aware of how drastic the life changes between this year and last have been. A year ago right now I was settling in Estes Park, Colorado, at the lowest point in my life. Who would have thought I'd accomplish the first item on my bucket list by now? Even better...

My first book signing! I was told that religious-themed books don't sell as well, but I figured it was worth a shot. I know at least three people will show up: my boyfriend and his parents :) Other than that...who knows. I've had this silly idea that the success of sharing my story with the world somehow depends on how "together" my life is. I've had many people, from the woman who does landscaping in our yard to my family dentist stop in where I work and tell me they have been praying for me for years, and they are proud of me.

I wish I felt as confident. I feel like the more I grow in my faith, the more aware I am of how messed up I was before. Sometimes it's hard to be dependent on Christ when everything is going so well. But it's during those times that I remember where I used to be...and I thank God I am still here.

Right now I'm just enjoying the time I have left in Ohio. While I wish the summer would hurry up and fly by so I can begin my new life in Colorado, I still need to cherish the time I have left here, where it all began.

Here we go, Summer 2012!

Botanical Gardens with my one and only

These old wings/been a long time, been a long time coming/These old wings/Just gotta be good for something

Burn these strings/So I can see what these old things/What these old wings can do...

 Yep, life is pretty good right now, I think.

On confronting ignorance with patience over anger

This week I experienced an episode of one of life's "teachable moments," giving me a taste of what the difficult days of my future career might look like -- the face-palm worthy parts that might make me wonder why I chose it in the first place.

I misplaced my car keys, and an acquaintance I'll call "Suzy" found them. She noticed that I carry a "rape whistle," which is more for my mother's comfort than my own. In reality, that would be the last thing I'd think to use if I was being attacked. I'd probably be too busy running and/or fighting for my life to bother fumbling through my purse for it.

Anyway, I jokingly said "Yes, that is my rape whistle," to which the teenage girl replied "I wouldn't fight back if that happened to me. I mean hello, it's free sex! And no one will think you're a slut for giving in because, you know, you could say you were raped."

I wasn't the only person to hear this. Another girl standing nearby immediately turned around, and she was just as shocked and dumbfounded as I was. "How could you think something like that, much less say it?!" she demanded.

Suzy simply shrugged and quipped "Well, if you're not getting any..."

I was torn between wanting to literally shake some sense into that girl, walking away and ignoring her completely, or -- God forbid -- taking the time to attempt educating her.

As a future chaplain in a crisis center -- if that's where God still wants me -- I can't shake sense into every ignorant client, obviously. This is not the first bout of ignorance I will face, and it will not be the last. My patience and tolerance levels will have to approve tremendously if I am to succeed in this field. Perhaps this episode is my first training session.

In a strange, back-handed sort of way, I actually envy Suzy for being able to afford that kind of ignorance. More likely than not, she hasn't experienced the trauma of a sexual assault. She's lucky she has not the foggiest clue what she's talking about. As offensive as her comment was, I sincerely hope that she never has to learn first-hand just how wrong her thought process is about this issue.

I consider it a small miracle that I was able to take a breath, compose myself, and say calmly in response "You know Suzy, you wouldn't think that way if it happened to you."

She didn't do much more than shrug me off with a "Whatever," but my point was clear. The other girl who overheard the exchange thanked me for attempting, however feebly, to set Suzy straight.

Episodes like these make me all the more cautious of the words I choose, and how I use them. It also makes me aware of the possible damage that can occur by speaking blithely of things I know nothing about. You never know who might be listening.

Remembrance is key

This summer is going to go by fast, so I need to do a quick re-cap of all the incredible, yet unlikely things that happened during my first year in the post-college "real world," which I expected to be stressful and boring. In the last nine months, I can count the following blessings I never thought possible:

1. Joshua
2. A renewed desire to give on-campus outreach a try, which I swore I'd never do (and had I not done that, I never would have bumped into Blessing #1 above...)
3. My book!
4. Finding a place to live for only $300 per month
5. Dad offering to pay my rent for my first year (!!!)
6. Scholarship for Denver
7. Good, steady job

I'm sure I could go on for a while. This list amazes me, because I am usually such a worrier about everything. Some of my worries are significant, like financial ones, and others are so trivial they aren't worth describing. Regarding the financial ones, I had every reason to be concerned. I've had 4 jobs in the last 9 months, and none but the last one have been able to give me full time hours. I didn't trust God AT ALL with my money situation, because money is tangible, and God is...well, not. I didn't understand how God could provide in that way. I really put his abilities in a box.

Looking at this short list of blessings, though, it's like he's saying to me "Why couldn't you trust me? Told you I'd come through." Makes me feel silly for doubting so much. If I can remember my fear during those months, and how those concerns were taken care of in spite of that, why should I worry about anything else left hanging?

While a significant part of me is sad that I will soon be leaving h2o, my first home church, I know that this is right. The last sermon of the semester was about remembrance, and how it affects our walk with God. Remembrance is huge for me because if I didn't remember all the crappy stuff I dealt with just one year ago, none of the current gifts I've received would mean as much.

And while I'm happy to know for sure that Denver is the school for me, it still stings a little that I never heard back from BU. That probably makes no sense, in light of the fact that I did spend several months praying for a sign to know which school was the right one...but still, I wrote the admissions people an email saying that it was extremely disappointing to have not been given the courtesy of a rejection letter. I was also tempted to include "And please do something about the epidemic of rape culture on your campus!" but that might have been too much, so I didn't.

It's easy to have joy when there's much to look forward to. Sometimes it's a fight to remember that joy and happiness are two different things, but for now, I am grateful to have both.

The identities we choose, the circumstances we can't

In the last few days, I registered for classes at Denver Seminary (!) and applied for my first government loan (gross). Saw my 7th grade English teacher at Panera last week, who is just "so proud" that I am a published author now (and maybe assumes some of the credit). Also ran into my 12th grade Service Learning teacher there, who looked at me like I'd grown a second head when I told her about my new name (which, depending on how long it's been since I've talked to certain people, it's really not that 'new' anymore).

Nonetheless, it follows me. While applying for my first loan, the name on my FAFSA still reads "Sarah E," which caused me to have a minor freakout that Denver Seminary will think I lied about my identity once they receive those records, or that I wasn't telling the "whole truth" and am thus unfit to be in a position of leadership...that probably sounds ridiculous, but that's really how my mind works. And when it comes to such a sensitive issue as this, a little frustration is not unheard of. This will be the first time I'm registered for a class under Sarahbeth. It's kind of a big deal.

Just today, I typed in the name of a customer for a to-go order by reading it off his credit card; he seemed personally offended by that, claiming "That's not the name I use!" And I honestly felt horrible. I of all people should know to ask someone first before going ahead and assuming their given name is actually their name, meaning the one they prefer to go by.

That's the great injustice with the whole naming process: we don't get to choose them, our parents do. Most of the time we just accept it; others, not so much. Few people, it seems, actually take legal action to do anything about it.

On a somewhat unrelated, yet still relevant note, I went to my first Take Back the Night event at Kent State last week, and it was awesome. I shouldn't say I loved it, because ideally, events like this shouldn't have to exist. But it was incredible. From burning the names of attackers (which seems a little vindictive, but it was actually quite liberating) to chanting things like "NO MORE DATE RAPE" while walking through campus, and listening to personal stories of survivors, it gave me more food for thought about creating new identities to overcome hardship.

The common denominator of the stories I heard, and even the one that I shared, was a deadly combination of shame, guilt, and self-hatred. Men and women alike described a loss of self-worth because they no longer felt "pure" for the person they eventually hope to be with...that, more than anything else, was the catalyst for my wanting a new identity. Not just the spiritual one I now have in Christ, but a legal one as well. It would be more "official" that way.

That is why, ridiculous and melodramatic as it sounds, it's like nails on a chalkboard for me to be referred to as Sarah (UNLESS you happen to be my mother, but even that is only when we're at home). While I've always disliked how common the name is, for me it represents my life before I learned the consequences of judging others; before I learned true self-respect; before I became a new creation after baptism. So it's not only annoying when people automatically assume it's okay to 'shorten' my name without asking, it's offensive.

I know the average response to that is probably going to be something like "Oh, lighten up, people don't mean any harm by it" or maybe even "Get over it!" I understand it's "unusual" to have a double first name, at least in this part of the US (I've been told I need to move to the deep south where names like Mary Lou and Bonnie Jean are the norm, and I'll fit right in), but it is one of my biggest pet peeves lately when people make assumptions about what they think a person should be called (I'm sorry, Panera customer! It will never happen again!).

I know a Matthew who despises being called Matt, and an Abigail who won't respond to Abby...so I'm not the only one who's a stickler for formalities. And someday I'd like to meet the woman who wrote this article and tell her that I know just how she feels!

Walking a mile in the wrong pair of shoes

So my letter to the editor of the Daily Kent Stater got published this week, which I'm pretty excited about. It was a weird moment of deja vu to see my name in the paper again, which I've tried to avoid reading since graduating, but when I heard about the "Walk a Mile in her Shoes" event to "increase awareness for sexual assault," I couldn't not say something about it. Trying to compress my response in 300 words or less was extremely difficult, and this is a subject I wish I'd written a full column on when I had the chance. But, you can only write about what you know at the present moment. I didn't have a passion for this subject at the time I was on the forum staff. Oh how things have changed.

What I really wanted to say, but didn't (not after the insane backlash to my column about fraternities dropping their pants for breast cancer awareness) was this...what is the point of all this, really? I already know it's for a good cause, and with the best of intentions behind it. But this, quite honestly, is one of the silliest ideas for "awareness" I've ever heard. And there are some very silly ones out there (remember the "update your status with the color bra you're wearing" epidemic? Or turning your Facebook profile picture pink?).

The event was intended to "help men better understand and appreciate women's experiences, helping improve gender relationships and decreasing the potential for violence." I'm sorry, but...how is this accomplished, exactly? How is forcing man feet into dainty high-heeled shoes supposed to help men understand what it's like for women to be at risk of sexual assault? And what about the fact that not all rapes occur on "Thirsty Thursdays" when the aforementioned high heels might be worn? What about date and acquaintance rapes? What about taking time to define what "counts" as rape, and what counts as consent? And what about female-on-male assaults?What about that, KSU?

If there's a connection to be made somewhere, I'm not following. Maybe there was a seminar before or after the event that I'm not aware of, but if the walk was all there was to it, I have to say that my alma mater missed a tremendous opportunity to educate its students. This event had so much potential, and fell so short. What a damn shame.

If I only had the space to do so (and if only I'd thought of it at the time I wrote the letter), I would have included this little zinger at the end: telling women not to get raped is like telling pedestrians "Don't get hit by a bus!" It's not the pedestrians who need extensive training. Rather, it's the drivers who need to learn the traffic laws and watch what the heck they're doing.

But instead, the brunt of mis-education falls mostly on women, who are told time and time again how to act in situations that are beyond their control. And that is not okay.

The curious way things fall into place

So it's about four more months until I make my glorious return to Colorado, my new happy place (I mean, if I can't afford grad school in Europe, Colorado is a pretty good alternative). I know I was biased toward Denver Seminary all along, after the summer I spent in Estes Park...But, I did the responsible thing and looked at other schools. In the end, it came down to a decision between Boston University and Denver Seminary...only BU never actually accepted me. I had thought I would have had a response by now, seeing how I applied six months ago...and it didn't even occur to me to consider that an answer to the "Where am I meant to go?" prayer I've been hounding God with until a good friend brought it up.

Still, I waited...and then this article popped up on my Facebook newsfeed, and my mind was made up. No more waiting around for a response from BU. If I'm going to be in debt, I'm going to be in debt for going to a school I've had my heart set on all along. Now I realize that the covering up of sexual assaults on college campuses is nothing new (Penn State, anyone?), but in light of my prayers lately, how am I supposed to interpret this as anything less than a sign that Denver is my school? Actually, it's not really a sign. More like a flashing billboard.

So it's settled then. I'm going to Denver!! Yeah yeah!

In other news, I think I've sold about 2 dozen-ish books now...a number of people have asked me about e-reader versions, and while anyone who knows me knows how I feel about the Kindle, Nook, etc, I may have to reconsider if it means that more people will read it...and ultimately, that is the point of being published, right?

I am actually experimenting with a fiction novel right now. When I first dreamed of becoming a writer I always assumed I'd write fiction, but I've found that any plot I come up with has been done before, and done well. What I'm working on now is less plot-driven and more focused on differing perspectives on a social issue I'm passionate about...which happens to involve two made-up characters. I'm about 20 pages in, and my new rule is that if I can make it to 50 pages without getting bored, I'll stick with it. So we'll see how that pans out. :)

Is this real life...?

I haven't been this happy in a long, long time...

Can you tell? ;)

I confess, I did sit in Starbucks just to read my own work. Not that I haven't read the manuscript, oh, 500 times already, but it's different to actually see the final product. And already, I am my own worst critic. I read it for the 501st time and thought, "That sentence is just too repetitive," "This whole paragraph doesn't make sense," and "Why did I put that in there?! That's way too much information!!" My life is literally an open book now. I don't regret any detail I wrote, raw and personal as many of them are...they all serve a purpose. Nothing is random or accidental.

I am also about 99.99% sure that I will be going to Denver Seminary this fall...more on that later. This is yet another decision that has not come easy to me, as much as I love both the school and the city. It's a huge commitment, and another big chapter of my life that I can't believe is approaching soon. And I may or may not be making another trip out to Estes Park this summer to see some of my LT friends. As of now, I've earned a little under $20 in book sales. Hey, that's 20 cups of tea at Scribbles Cafe :)

My 23rd year of life is off to an exciting start, and it's not even my half birthday yet. New book...new boyfriend...new school plans...Suffice it to say, I am a very blessed, happy camper. I never imagined that ANY of this was possible.