How to be a good friend


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Show up. That’s it, the end.

Seriously though, it’s really that simple. We complicate the basic mechanism of a friendship with other fluff. For example: If someone (especially a woman) articulates that they are overwhelmed, stressed, wound-up, lonely, or any variance of those – Show up man. Either in word, or deed.

Chances are, if a lady friend has dug down deep in her well of vulnerability to reach out, well, we have the obligation and privilege as human beings to show up. Even for that Drama Momma. Bless her.

Showing up looks different, to different people. (Read ‘The 5 Love Languages’ for a nice baseline.) I show up mostly by edifying, or encouraging people. Or making them laugh-pee. It’s my thang. Do your thang, though. Do what feels natural, but for the love of Pete, do something.

The degree of pride that a woman must set aside to even admit she needs a friend or two, or ten, on her squad is tremendous. Let this sink in.

Women are supposed to have all our crap together, and our hair in place. All the answers, to all the household and work quandaries, and still want to be groped at the end of the day.

We have enough pressures, yes?

So, let’s get our power and our high from lifting each other up, instead of tearing other women down. Imagine what a beautiful community of women to behold, in shouldering the ups and downs together. Satan can pick you off much easier, when you isolate yourself from the heard. Have you ever told your children to hold hands and stay together?? Yes…now it’s sinking in. Hold hands and stay together. Refuse to gossip, or to even passively be around it. It’s a poison. Don’t drink it in.

Show up.

Show love.

Show funny.

Show real.

Show Jesus.


Warmly, Sarah


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Sweet Sarah

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That’s what my Daddy used to call me. He used to say a little rhyme to me ~ “Sarah Nicole was a good ‘ol soul, she went to heaven in a sugar bowl!” Also, he painted the words “Lil Talker” on my sandbox. But we’re not even talking about that.

We played a team building exercise at work, where co-workers would leave a yellow post-it note in your mailbox with a word that describes you.

I got sweet.

Mostly, I’m happy that I am perceived as sweet. A little generic maybe, but whatever. Perhaps those leaning in closer to me might detect: Sassy, spicy, funny, or okay, sweet.

My Step Mom does sweet right. Really does it well. She exudes a confidence that she can be sweet despite the noise around her. She will not stop being sweet, and a lady. Thank goodness. People take all kinds of liberties that they shouldn’t, when you are sweet. But we’re onto these kind of people, thinking they are sly, taking advantage of our sweet selves. (You’re totally NOT, by the way.) Bless your heart.

Here’s the deal: Sweetness can be mistaken for weakness. It’s quite the opposite. There is power in that epi-center of self-control, that is usually characteristic of sweetness. Tact even. And that’s the sweet spot, my friends. Because when sweet people put their mind to something, we can be fierce. And successful as crap. And win. (Everything is a contest with me. Everyyyything. It’s fun like that.)

Case-in-point: Bindi Irwin on ‘Dancing with the Stars.’ So sweet, that girl. Sweet with some Stevia on top, sweet. She won everyone over with her sweet disposition – but she won with her hard work and belief in herself.

Sweet is a darn good start.

My Daddy also used to say that I was very industrious. I look forward to that written on a piece of paper too someday.

Stay sweet.

Warmly, Sarah

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Effective for a designed purpose

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It’s all about the details for me. Maybe it’s immaturity. Maybe adult ADD. Or, more likely, that I just plain appreciate life’s little gifts: A new razor, a really good book, a bathing suit that fits (hark!) or, the lock on my bathroom door. Guilty of overusing that last one. I’m such a rebel, all locking myself in the bathroom.

Back up to the razor. I got a fresh, new pack of refill razor blades. Everyone at my community pool can now rejoice! The little things.

I’m shaving away in the shower, balancing like a not-so-graceful flamingo, trying to be smooth and fresh for said pool. Okay, maybe just smooth. Maybe fresh is overshooting a bit.

Shaving, shaving, shaving. Aaaaaaand nothing. Not one smooth strip anywhere. What the actual crap?! This razor is defunct. This tool of smoothness is lame. Then I realize, (don’t laugh. Ok, laugh) the razor head is upside down. It’s not effective because I wasn’t using the thing as it was intended. I’m not dumb, inadequate, or even helpless. The razor wasn’t set up to succeed.

Perhaps, it’s not shaving your legs. But, your life (the tool) is requiring something different from you to make your life “click right.” Maybe just a small adjustment: A new perspective, better time management, a precious friend to come alongside you – these may all help. Or, maybe you need All The Braveness to end something: An addiction, a toxic relationship, self-loathing, a bad habit.

Before you turn that razor blade around however, what are you going to do with it? What will replace the mal-alignment? Don’t just leave it to chance. You get to choose this. Isn’t that good news?! This is going to be exciting. I’m so excited for you!! You don’t have limits. Who is saying you do? You? Someone else?

Never mind all that right now. The important thing is you’re here. You’re reading this.

The razor will get turned around. And, it’ll all be really okay. God will sharpen, and refine you. He will re-build you for your designed purpose.

Take a deep breath, and let go, Girl. You can fly.

Warmly, Sarah

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