The Microscopic Version:
Hi! My name is Sarah. I love Jesus and pop culture and a bunch of other people and things, and I write about some of them here. Welcome!
The Short Version:
Okayyyyy for real now. I’m Sarah, with an “h,” if you spell it without it I will pretend not to care because I’m an adult but I’ll be inwardly bummed for like a minute but then I’ll forget because I have a terrible memory. Jesus is everything to me, and not in a “Jesus & Coffee” t-shirt kind of way, in a “He has spiritually and many times literally saved my life and I cannot go a day without spending time with Him” kind of way. I’m married to the boy I sat next to in 7th grade English class; he wrote in sloppy cursive with a blue Bic pen and I developed the crush that won’t quit. Together we’ve been entrusted with four amazing kids via birth and adoption who keep us laughing, humble, and chronically sleep deprived. I love Regency Era books and movies, and the poppiest of pop culture, and the Bible and hymns, and autumn, and dark chocolate, and a whole bunch of other stuff that doesn’t belong in The Short Version. I write about All of the Above, up until now primarily as a means of coping with depression, and now as a means of connecting with others. I sincerely hope you always feel welcome here.
The Long Version:
If you’re still here you’re either postponing making dinner (I get it), or you’re my mom (love you, momma)—either way, hi. I’m still Sarah, and it’s still true that Jesus is everything to me, but He hasn’t always been. I was saved because a man who loved Jesus started teaching Taekwondo classes in his church in Memphis as an after school program (which, looking back, is just the coolest thing). In order to get all the extra colored stripes on our belt we had to memorize Bible verses, and I am competitive, so I memorized every one. The more I memorized the more I understood that God loved me, that He sent His Son to live perfectly, die sacrificially, and raise to life again miraculously, and that if I confessed my sins He would forgive me. I was six, and it was a simple faith in the simple Gospel, but I have not doubted it since. Still have the yellow belt and everything.
What I have doubted, many times over the years, has not been the realness of God, but His goodness. My life, like everyone’s, has seen disappointments, twists, and valleys. I also struggle with intense bouts of depression that I don’t know if I’ll ever be completely free from this side of eternity. He saved my life from suicide when I was fifteen, shielded me from a tornado that tore through our college campus when I was nineteen, carried me through postpartum depression after the birth of our last baby, and most recently walked me through a season of grief I’m still limping from a bit, if I’m honest.
Writing helps me work through those seasons, but up until now 99% of it has been unseen and unpublished.
So why share here? And why now?
A: To encourage
The longer I live, the more people I meet who struggle with darkness, too. It’s not everyone, to be sure: I have friends and family members who are steady, consistent, and don’t swing to the ceiling in delight or to the floor in despair (the Samwise to our Frodo, if you will). But there are a lot of us, and mostly, we suffer silently. We shrink back. We don’t do exactly that which would help the most: reach out, ask for help, admit when we’re low, we’re swirling again, the hope is fading fast. It’s part-coping mechanism, part-pride, I think. Despite our culture shifting to a kinder perception of those who struggle with their mental health, there is still a shame that keeps a lot of us quiet, maybe even especially those of us who claim Jesus. If I can help, if I can encourage, if I can point out the crack of light at the end of the tunnel and walk alongside you for a bit until the crack becomes a beam, it would be an honor.
B: To obey
I’m stubborn, okay? I’ve known for some time now I should be sharing my writing more, and I’ve flung every excuse in His face. It’s too tender. They’ll misinterpret, misunderstand, judge. I’m not talented. I’m not talented enough. I’m too busy, too behind on too many things already. What if I say something blasphemous, something that leads someone astray? I hate social media. I’m not an expert. What if I hurt their feelings? I don’t want my feelings to get hurt. I don’t want to fail. … You get the picture. But like, it’s enough already. See A.
C: To have fun
I’m married to a pastor husband who agonizes over his sermons. Don’t get me wrong, he’s called to it, gifted at it, and works tremendously hard, it’s just that for him, the writing part is the labor—it’s the preaching, the delivery that sets him on fire. I actually enjoy the writing process, the searching for the perfect word, the laughing at myself along the way, the delicious feeling that creeps into my shoulderblades reading the final word of the final edit. I don’t play the piano or basketball, don’t paint or bake or DIY—I write. Sometimes about the hard stuff, the theology, the anxiety, the angsty of it all. Sometimes about the fifteenth read-through of Persuasion, Austen’s best novel (not Pride and Prejudice, I will fight you and I will win), or the Kardashians (judge away, but they are fascinating and I love them), or whatever I’m watching/listening/reading/playing/looking forward to that is frivolous and fun. I’m tired of the “niche” advice, aren’t you? That whole concept of pigeon-holing ourselves for likes and follows? Nah. Why choose A or B or C, when we can have, we can be,
D: All of the Above
The Fine Print:
I would love for you to join me here as frequently as is helpful or fun!
Non-paid subscribers will receive my free monthly newsletter.
Paid subscribers will receive that free monthly newsletter in addition to weekly(ish) deep dives, current favorites, and more personal stories. It is a space in which I am more transparent, and invest in with deep joy and gratitude knowing that you are in turn choosing to invest in me as a writer (who would love to write professionally one day) and as a human being (who would love to go on more date nights and you know, save for college or whatever, in case one of the kids wants to go).
If you are unable to pay for a paid subscription but would like one, please email me at alloftheabovewithst@gmail.com, and I will comp you a subscription, no questions asked. I’ve seen writer friends do this over the years and told myself this would be a nonnegotiable for me when I began. I know what it is to be on a budget, and I know what it is to need encouragement. The former will not prevent the latter, not here.
(Thanks so very, very much for reading, but yes, it’s time to go make dinner now, and yes, dinner can be popcorn and mandarin oranges.)