The Alter Guild

Dum dum de dum. It's T-minus less than three months til the wedding day. Not sure how the planning is going. I suppose we'll see when we get there.

We're getting married at St. Alban's Church here is Waco. We love this little church, its rector Jeff Fisher, and the congregation (even though we haven't really gotten to know them). And since Jeff is marrying us and the church is so graciously opening its doors to our guests on the white-hot day I'm sure August 28 will be, I decided to take some time to demonstrate our gratitude.

So I've volunteered for the Alter Guild. Unfortunately, I'll only get to serve on it...three times before we move to Roswell, New Mexico. However, I'm thinking that I could serve on the alter guild at our new Roswell church, whichever (of the TWO Episcopal churches) it may be.

Yesterday afternoon I met the rest of my Alter Guild team up at the church and had a crash course on how to set everything up. There was so much to learn! There were all sorts of cloths and bowls and silver goblets, crystal pitchers. So many mysteries and things to learn.

When you go "backstage" of a church so steeped with tradition, the mystery does not dissipate. It actually gets thicker. You would think that learning what goes on behind the scenes is like learning the steps of a magician's trick. It's not. It only makes things more complicated. No illusion is lifted. Instead, you become even more convinced that you'll never untangle all the ins and outs of the worship of a Holy God.

That's how I felt as a much younger girl, when the priests at my cousin's Catholic church hosted her birthday lunch in their home. Priestly humor, and the immense amount of books, and the bond they shared, and the strange presence of alcohol only made things more complicated. My aunt had asked me not to share details about inside the rectory, just out of respect for the private lives of the priests.

It's a good thing, though. I like that the details never stop unfolding, the complication of things.



your mouth makes a perfect o
small, smaller than my own
and cool, your afternoon well spent waiting
(my palm against you)
what had you to do anyway?
it's sunday.

and i tip you toward me waiting, wanting
will you rush at me too warm?
have you turned cold?
my mouth meets the firmness of yours
you are fresh and reposed
subtly bitter

so many feelings rush at me
your familiar sweetness
the thickness of your taste
the startling cold, unexpected greeting
and your powerful warmness
awake(!), enough to pull me up

** The undertow is a delightful concoction enjoyed at the Starbucks at Central Texas Marketplace. There are variations of it elsewhere in coffee shops across the world but as far as I know this particular one originated here. Created by a friendly yet aloof male barista, it is a layered espresso shot. The first layer is shot of syrup (mine is SF Vanilla), the second layer is a hint of cold milk, and it is topped by a fresh shot of espresso. Delicious and effective, it became a staple for many a secret service agent stopping in on his or her way to the President's ranch in nearby Crawford.

Here is someone else's post about the undertow. Just do a search for them and it will return reviews from all over the country.


One more thing. While we're on this topic. I find that this drink articulately describes a feeling I have quite often. Yes, sorry, an existential feeling. (See my sentences get choppier as I try to avoid Dear Diary-ing). I just feel like my everyday is caught in an undertow. With all I am I am desiring and creating who I am and what I want to do. Still, I feel powerless to actually propel myself into actualizing those desires. My books remain unread, letters do not write themselves, and schools cannot accept me without my applying to them.

I don't feel like I'm just treading water I'm swimming, pushing forward, but progress is so indiscernible. This week I accomplished one big push in turning in an application to a great school at which I would love to teach. By this time next week, I will accomplish one more great step in regards to graduate school. Little by little. Building my Rome.

Any push I do have. That is from the Lord.

likely story

I didn't take any pictures this week because my SD card was in my net book and I kept forgetting to take it out and put it in my camera.


to think about:

leaves waffling through the air

perpetual sadness

heartbreak as the portal into adulthood


new ideas or old ones?

Kant and the unstoppable urge to categorize everything

the lie of advertising

how long has House been on T.V.? long time.


Preparing to Be the Woman I Want to Be

At the end of yoga we lay down in savasana- the corpse pose. Having exhausted (ha-we wish) every muscle, we surrender completely to the ground, our souls pointing upward, arms outstretched as they fall, and palms up, ready to receive and to give blessings.

This is my favorite time. In savasana I feel the most like myself. In savasana I connect with Sara past, present, and future.

I see my lowliness before the Creator and my sprightly spirit He has filled with joy. In savasana I can make any decision, I can know the desires of my true self, and the way of birds and roots and leaves.

In these moments of clarity, after I have opened up every muscle and exhaled stale air out of the hidden cavities of my lungs, after asking forgiveness, and laying there at his mercy, my path becomes a little bit more clear and sun shines on another inch of destiny.

There are some habits I need to form to become the woman I want to be, the woman I want Mitch to marry. One habit I started working on this week-- carrying my camera every day and getting at least one good shot to share. Here are the pictures from this last week:

Sunday: Rejoicing over bluebonnets. During this celebrations some "bluebonnet activists" drove by and shouted "F*^& you!"

Monday: Mitch making one of my favorite faces of his-- consternation, resulting from this new big bottle beer we were trying, Collaboration Not Litigation. Perfect setting for discussing flowers for the wedding.
Tuesday: tree at work
Wednesday or Thursday (not sure): calf at work
Friday: glamour at the Hollywood Jewel in Waco-- Alyssa and Jason

Gratuitous picture of Clark and June which I love.



love songs for the engage-d

Hello. Mitch asked me to marry him.


We would like to center our wedding on a line from a beloved poem and have the entirety to it read during the ceremony. Today while searching for the most fitting poem, I realized something. Because, I mean, we love poetry and to read it aloud to each other. One might think that since this is the case we would already know a perfect one, right? Actually no.

Because a majority of our relationships has been spent apart, separated by long Texas highways (and multiple states at times) I've realized that many of our favorite love poems are about separation and not togetherness.

So, it is time to harvest a new crop of favorites-- poetry that gives us the language of together, of forever. Suggestions are more than welcome.

Thank you for reading us all the way through our dating relationship, fellow bloggers. Here's to the next stretch of open road.