NMAI Artist Leadership Program, and My Life

"It was the best of times, it was the worst of times." There are not many ways to describe this season in life. One of the worst summers of my life, and it ended with my dad’s passing. Then I got a phone call.

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In May, 2012, I had applied for the Smithsonian’s National Museum of the American Indian’s Artist Leadership Program. Amid the disasters of the summer, I still checked the mailbox every day in August, catching myself going out there on Sundays too. Waiting, waiting for a letter that would either accept me or a say a polite try again.

When I couldn’t stand the suspense anymore, I emailed the director, Keevin Lewis, on August 25. He emailed back with the news he’d been trying to contact my referral, Assistant Chief Gary Batton (Choctaw Nation of Oklahoma) with a few questions.

I went through the roof, but tried to keep a lid on my excitement. My application was receiving serious consideration, but not granted yet. A few emails later and I had a call time set up for Keevin to reach Gary.

That was Saturday, August 25.

Sunday, August 26

We weren’t expecting it. It shocked. It hurt. It left me empty.

I wrote a poem. We made funeral arrangements. I got another email.

The phone call had gone well, and could Keevin call me today?

No, not today. Tomorrow.

He called. I’d been chosen for the Artist Leadership Program. I cried, extreme happiness and extreme sadness fighting for dominance in my heart. The battle still rages today.

A few of my recent Facebook statuses:

…Life hurts. God heals. In the in between time, we take it day by day and live in His grace and love…

…I'd rather feel pain than feel nothing. Pain lets you know you're still alive. A time of worship can bring everything out, including pain. Not something we want, but something we need…

…Blowing kisses to the sky…

On the happy end, we’re preparing for a two week research trip in Washington, D.C. as part of the Artist program. I’ll conduct research on our Choctaw ancestry at half a dozen facilities, present lunchtime talks to the NMAI staff, and perform two storytelling concerts at the ImagiNations Center at NMAI. How thankful I am to be doing it all with my mama!

An all-expense paid trip to D.C., plus. Yeah, I’m started to feel some excitement. It’s sinking in. Just in time, too. We leave in a few weeks.

Part Two of the program means putting on an Advanced Writing Workshop for the Choctaw Nation in March. Not a bad credit in my writing portfolio.

Split Focus

A day hasn’t passed that I don’t see scenes from August 26. The event shoved me off the cliff for a shattering landing. God put out deep padding to catch us.

This is the best of times, this is the worst of times. But it's all God's time.

Have you lived through the best and the worst at the same time? I’d like to hear your story.

He's Not Really Gone

Sunday, August 26, 2012, my daddy left his earth suit behind to be with his mama, brother and Jesus in Heaven. Through this unexpected loss, God’s provided friends and family to engulf us in love, prayers and support.

Monday, August 27, 2012, I wrote the following piece. May God use it to comfort those who mourn.

He’s not really gone

Over and over I repeat the words

They’re not true

Nurse, do something, Doctor, do something

Somebody do something

He’s not really gone

Lord, just one more day, one more hour

One more minute to say “I love you” one more time

At home, the first thing I see is your shirt on the arm of the couch

I clutch your walking stick and weep

He’s not really gone

You’ll be home later in the morning

It’ll be time for Mama to fix your eggs and make sure you take your vitamins

Tonight we’ll have a Bonanza, Gunsmoke, Big Valley marathon

Then I’ll fix your computer and explain Facebook again

This weekend you’ll play your guitar and sing for the nursing home residents

You’ll sing the song you wrote, “Tell Mama her boy is coming home.”

He’s not really gone

I see him that final time before they take his earthly body away

I touch him, touch my heart and I know

He’s right here with me forever

Thank You, Lord Jesus, He’s not really gone

Ara C. Sawyer 1946-2012

F.E.A.R and What You Can Do About It

You’ve probably experienced it. The time when something happens to you, major or minor, and the first person you tell turns around and tells you a story about so and so who had the same thing happen to them, and their horrific outcome. So it was when I discovered a tick buried in my side. I won’t go into all the treatments my mom immediately launched, and the doctor visit, but let’s just say we did all we could to hopefully prevent disease down the road. I wasn’t worried, determined to turn the results over to God.

First person I tell? A beloved friend. First thing she does? Tells the horrors of Lyme disease and how it may not show up for years.

Next person I tell? My beloved boss. First thing she does? Tells of her friend who had a tick and how full blown Lyme developed after four years, eventually putting her friend on disability.

I was tempted to start worrying.

That same weekend, my boss had awful blisters on her heels. Someone asked why she was limping, and after she told them, they launched into a story about so and so who had the same type blisters, got infected and died.

These reaction stories aren’t meant to implant fear in your heart. Often the person telling them does it to keep you from experiencing the same horrors as someone they know. But if you’ve already done everything you can, there’s not much encouragement in a sad story.

Same thing with failure. Have you ever shared a dream with someone and they immediately tell you about someone just like you who failed at the same thing?

Here comes the fear.

Fear of failure is paralyzing. But really, it’s no different than taking every precaution you can for your health problem, and then not worry about what could go wrong. Why even fear something unless it exists?

When you start out to live the life God’s called you to, you can’t let the fear of failure stop you. You just take every possible precaution, do your due diligence, and then do it.

We can choose not to fear, to give our worries over to God. That choice is a daily, sometimes by the minute, decision.

Here’s a good breakdown of fear Robert Kiyosaki (Rich Dad, Poor Dad author) uses:

False

Evidence

Appearing

Real

What false evidence is stopping you today? Share your fears in the comments and leave them there.

For Him,

Sarah Elisabeth

You Can Do It Too

God gave writing back to me in August, 2010. I discovered Faithwriters.com and committed to entering the Writing Challenge every week until I reached the Master's level. I achieved that in just under a year, but kept going for a total of sixteen months straight. Some of my other achievements are harder to measure, it's more of a feel. I no longer feel in the dark now, and felt at home in Elizabeth Sherrill's Master's Writing Workshop a few weeks ago.

None of this is to boast. It's just to say that if I can become what God's called me to be, you can too.

For Him,

Sarah Elisabeth

The Best Gift You Can Give

I face one of the year’s hardest problems every Mother’s Day. You don’t have to know me long to know I adore my parents, that my mom is still my bestest friend I hold hands and skip along with. I love my mama so much I have no idea what to get her for Mother’s Day. To make matters worse, her birthday is right around May’s corner, June 20. A few ideas are coming to a boil on my mind’s stove, but nothing as fantastic as she deserves.

When a birthday of a close friend or birthday comes around, you may be like me, totally clueless what to offer them. “It’s the thought that counts” helps, but what if it were the prayer that counted?

Hence forth, I’m making sure no birthday or honoring day passes under my radar where I don’t bow my head for twenty seconds and say over a prayer over that person’s life. There is power in prayer.

Aside from prayer love, what’s the best gift you’ve ever received or given?

And Happy Mother’s Day to all you great moms reading my blog, especially my own. I love you, Mama! Praying for you always.

For Him,

Sarah Elisabeth