Top 3's of 3

26,280 hours of learning new heights of love and grace.

1,095 days of waking up to my best friend.

36 months of being challenged by the strength of my husband to live a life full of faith.

3 years of indescribable joy being the wife of Mr. Steven Sauder.

Yes, it's true. Stevo and I have officially been married for 3 whole years! I like to jokingly tell people that "we're pros" and that now "we have it all figured out". Ha. (This is usually when Steven shakes his head in denial and gives me a look of, "Babe, we have a long way to go...")

I know in the grand scheme of things, 3 years of marriage is just breaking the ice. I mean, when you put us next to our grandparents whose combined total of years married is over 120 years... well then, yeah. We're total amateurs. Older couples, who have weathered a few storms, have often reminded us that we're just beginning to lay the foundation for shaky times ahead. I am fully expecting that we'll continue to change, independently and collectively, and that God will continue to mold and stretch our marriage to better reflect His love relationship with us.

But honestly, even though the 3 years have gone by incredibly fast, they also seem like a lifetime. And even though we're only at the starting block, it feels like we've been running the race for quite some time.

And I love it.

I love that I feel like I've already been married to Steven forever--because it breeds in me a deep level of comfort and sense of security. I love that I feel like we're in the midst of a marathon--because it hasn't been all rainbows and butterflies and I'm learning that this love thing is a commitment, privilege and most definitely a fight worth fighting for.

Last January, I was able to reflect on the straight path that God had carved out for us--from dating, to marriage, to grad school, to work, to overseas. From Champaign, to Chicago, to Oak Park, to Roanoke, to Colorado, to Thailand. It is no doubt that God has done a lot with the Sauders. And even though there is a lot yet to be done with many mountains yet to climb, I don't want to just categorize this time as "just the beginning". I want to remember the specifics. The successes and failures. The moments of wisdom and stupidity. The times of love and forgiveness that have taken place within us and our marriage over past 3 years.

And so, on our anniversary getaway, Steven and I reflected on some Top 3's of the past 3 years.

Steven's Top 3 memories:

1. Our wedding day and 12 day honeymoon to Maui

2. Our road trip up the West Coast--San Diego to Seattle!

3. Working on the farm with Dad Sauder

Lauren's Top 3 memories:

*Wedding day and honeymoon were a given for me :)

1. Being a part of our small group (shout out to the LWC!) in Chicago

2. Nannying for Charlotte

3. Being a farmer's wife! (I seriously loved my time living on the farm. I know, I'm just as surprised as you are)

Our Top 3 "God moments":

1. Getting the phone call from Hatley asking us to join him in Thailand--2 days before we were about to commit to something else

2. Stepping off the plane in Chiang Mai--what a rush of emotions!

3. Raising 100% financial support in 4 months

Steven's Top 3 'not too fun' moments:

1. Dealing and working through "first year marriage fights"

2. Learning Thai :)

3. Working long, hard hours at McHugh

Lauren's Top 3 'not too fun' moments:

1. Being exposed to new and reoccurring sin through marriage

2. Raising support in 4 months + both of us working full time + traveling = a few breakdowns :)

3. Saying goodbye to all our loved ones

Steven's Top 3 'Things I've discovered about Lauren':

1. She still sleeps with rags (aka: blankies)

2. She is a great cook and entertainer

3. She's a deep thinker and has a gift of expressing herself through writing

Lauren's Top 3 'Things I've discovered about Steven':

1. He really can build anything!

2. He really can't remember things I tell him... Sigh.

3. He really can be funny! :)

Steven's Top 3 'I'm thankful for':

1. A wife that is full of life and joy

2. A friend who challenges herself and isn't afraid to challenge me

3. A joint pursuit of God and His global purposes in our life together

Lauren's Top 3 'I'm thankful for':

1. A husband who is incredibly patient, strong, honest and committed

2. A best friend who knows me better than I know myself

3. A marriage that is committed to pursuing the Kingdom of God

Our Top 3 lessons learned:

1. Forgiveness and grace always win

2. Fighting one another is only fighting ourselves

3. Communication and commitment are non-negotiables

Our Top 3 goals for our next 3 years:

1. Pray more together

2. Travel and see SE Asia

3. Start a family :)

It was fun to take time to reflect on our many memories and how we've grown, while also dreaming up new dreams for the next 3 years and beyond...

Happy Anniversary, Steven Sauder! Here's to loving each other more with each passing day :)

deserted island.

I've always thought it would be cool to live on a deserted island with Steven.

Ya know, just me and him... with nothing but each other and all the time in the world. I guess with the hustle and bustle of city life, Steven's previous job being so crazy and the whirlwind of raising support and packing up our lives for overseas, the idea of escaping to a land of nothingness and complete solace was incredibly appealing. I would daydream about what sorts of things I would bring to this island, what fun things we would come up with to entertain ourselves, and what we'd really discover about ourselves and each other from this special time away. It seemed like it would be the perfect adventure and answer to my tired soul.

However...

I definitely don't feel that way anymore. Because right now, it feels like my wish really did come true, that we really are on a deserted island. But instead of relishing in all its glory, I actually hate it.

Don't get me wrong, I love Thailand and everything about it. The people, our team leaders, the weather, the language, the culture. All wonderful. But the thing that I have continued to struggle with, and found myself unexpectedly weeping to Steven about today, is that I hate feeling like we're here, in this far away place, all by ourselves.

It's no way to live.

So far, we haven't met very many young couples here. It is mostly older families, with established ministries and lives, busy with their kid's activities and work responsibilities. We are grateful for so many seasoned people to learn from, but I have a deep ache for a couple that is in the same place of life that we are in.

We have neighbors who want to be friends with us, but we just don't have enough language to develop a deep friendship yet. Right now, hanging out with them takes a lot of courage, concentration and mental energy which often leaves me extremely exhausted. I long for a refreshing time of laughter, likemindedness, and comfort.

Steven keeps praying that God would give us the opportunity to make new friends. But as I was blubbering in his arms today, I told him that I didn't want new friends. New friends mean starting from scratch. New friends mean that they don't know our history, our story, or who we really are. I told him that new friends just mean a lot of time and energy and that I was sick of making new friends anyway. Within this last year we have moved 4 times. New friends in Chicago. New friends in Roanoke. New friends in Colorado. Now new friends in Thailand? I'm just not sure I can do it again.

Something else that didn't cross my mind in my deserted island fantasy was that I could possibly lose a sense of who I am in this place. It sounds strange, but feeling so isolated has made me feel a bit crazy. These past few weeks we have been praying for the Lord to give me some new hobbies. Steven has his fill here as there is every outdoor adventure right at his fingertips. As I have been processing through my feeling of isolation, I have come to realize that all my "hobbies" have to do with people. And because the lack of community we are experiencing, I just don't know what to do with myself. We have no friends to entertain or have over for dinner. No one to cook for, disciple, share funny stories or have deep conversations with. No one to encourage, no one to go to coffee with, no group outings to plan. That's what normally feeds my soul. So it's no wonder that I feel like I'm in starvation mode. I'm afraid I don't know who I am without community.

And what about the rest of our lives here? I just can't see it moving forward without a sense of community. The greatest and latest tension has been whether or not we should start a family. It seems like every time we Skype with someone from home we find out they are pregnant. And besides being extremely excited for such a blessing, it always leaves a dull pain in my heart. Mostly because I know that if we were in the States, we would be ready to have a baby too. But the thought of having our first baby here, with no family and friends around, absolutely terrifies me. Being a mom for the first time, figuring it all out, with no one here to help us through it? It's enough to make me think that we'll never be ready. And to be honest, I'm just so sad about it.

I'm not quite sure why I'm writing this post. Maybe it's to vent. Maybe it's to process. Maybe it's a cry out to God. (God help!) Maybe it's to write out all my complaints and fears so that someone can tell me that I'm being ridiculous.

Maybe it's all of the above.

As Steven held me today, he said, "I'd rather be here, knowing we are in God's will, struggling... rather than at home, not in God's will, comfortable."

I know he's right. I know we are supposed to be here and for whatever reason God is allowing me to struggle through this phase. I'm just hoping that one day I can reread this post and see the intimate hand of God in all of this. I await, in eager anticipation, the ability to look back on this time and see how thoughtfully God was preparing me for new friendships, motherhood, and a deeper faith in Him.

For now, I just need constant reminders from God to see the blessings He's giving me from time on this deserted island.

lessons learn(ing).

Definitely not lessons learned. For I'm afraid I am a forever messy, complicated work in progress. But, really, aren't we all?

(Someone please say yes.)

No, these are most certainly not lessons I've already achieved, overcome and moved on from. They are simply little tidbits into this ongoing process of life overseas, as a sinner saved by grace, who continually stumbles, falls, laughs quite a bit at herself and then, by the grace of God, starts again.

These are my lessons learn(ing).

I am learning patience. Everyone who knows me is now saying to themselves, "Thank you, God!" It's no secret that patience is something I often lack. (It's my mother's fault, really.) I hate waiting, I hate traffic, I hate lines. I hate how I still don't know Thai (shouldn't 2 months of studying do the trick?), I hate how we ordered a desk 3 months ago and it still isn't finished, and I hate that mail takes 2 to 3 weeks to get here. But alas, I am learning. And I am learning that being in a hurry doesn't make things go faster and it doesn't necessarily make life more productive. Impatience simply breeds anxiety, fear, discouragement and failure. Patience creates peace, grace, confidence and faith. I am, and forever will be, learning patience.

I am learning that I still don't like vegetables. It's a lost cause, really. I came to Thailand with an open mind, to try new things, and to start liking vegetables. However, the hatred still remains. And I think our lunch guy at the market is starting to get the hint. Every day I return my plate to him with all the vegetables pushed to the side. Slowly but surely, he has put less and less veggies in my stir fry. Bless his heart. I love that he is learning that I still don't like vegetables.

I am learning how to be a 3 year old again. With knowing around 1,000 Thai words, my speech pathologist friend told me that I have now advanced to talking like a 3 year old. Woohoo. I am really starting to feel for all the 3 year old's out there. You want so badly to be able to communicate, yet the words just aren't there. And even when you do venture out and use the few words that you know, people just laugh and think it's "cute". Did I say the wrong word? Is my accent incomprehensible? Or are you just mean-spirited? Steven and I have succumbed to a lot of hand motions and simple statements. "I want the red cup." "I like bread." "I am from America. Yes, I know I look Thai, but I am Japanese...well, I don't speak Japanese and no, my grandparents have never lived in Japan...but I do speak Spanish...and English...and now I am learning Thai." Okay, so maybe we are doing a little better than I give ourselves credit for, but nevertheless, I am learning how to redefine my definition of communication.

I am learning how to be a team player. Our marriage has never felt like more of a team effort than it does now. We do everything together. Eat, go to class, study, ride the motorcycle, run errands, go on dates, watch TV, read, etc. We've spent more time together in these last 4 months than we have in our entire marriage previous to Thailand. And while sometimes we start picking at each other like brother and sister, for the most part, our marriage has never been better. There's something about working together towards a common goal that has uniquely united us. It takes the will out of fighting against one another and pushes us towards grace and encouragement. If I fail, we fail. If Steven has a good day, we have a good day. I have loved learning how to be one with my husband.

I am learning how to do nothing. Maybe the hardest lesson of them all. But there have been days where I have been depressed from the lack of activity and interaction in my life. As someone who prided herself on being busy and social, this whole "studying language all day" approach has really challenged me. Throw in the fact that we are living on support for the first time and the self induced pressure to be doing something worthwhile. It's a recipe for a major identity crisis. I am having to remind myself daily that it is not what I do that makes me valuable. It is who I am and who I belong to. My worth is in knowing Jesus Christ and being known by Him. Nothing more, nothing less. And somewhere in the midst of all this, I know that studying hard and taking time to learn Thai is God-honoring, God-exalting, Kingdom work. It just doesn't feel and look so glamorous to the me or the outside world. I am learning how to live for an Audience of One.

I am learning that I am not a Superhero. Crossing the ocean and calling myself a missionary has not given me any special powers. (And as funny as that sounds, I kind of thought it would...) But to my dismay, my flesh still remains. I still struggle with spending time in the Word every day. I still get impatient, snippy, and prideful. I still find myself reaching for the American dream. I still have a hard time trusting God. I still want control, I still miss home, and I still can't believe I am in Thailand. I am no more godly just because I am here. I am still me, with all my imperfections, just trying to live out the Gospel in a different place. I am learning that it's not my title change that changes who I am.

It's allowing God to keep teaching me the lessons He wants me to be learning.

for my momma.

I have always been attached to my mother.

Steven often wonders when this attachment will lessen--as he can only hope that one day I'll stop sleeping with her old, torn up t-shirt. Yes, I'm talking about my blankie. And yes, I brought them to Thailand and they are currently on my bed.

Stop judging.

Anyway. When I was a little girl, I remember never wanting to leave my mother's side. I would cry every day when she would leave me at this awful daycare--they would make me eat all my vegetables before I could have my "free time". It was such abuse, really. I'm convinced that's why I still cannot eat vegetables to this very day. I remember being frightened of the idea of spending the night over at a friend's house, for that would mean a night away from my momma. I would follow her around everywhere. Help her cook in the kitchen, run errands all around town, cheer my brothers on at whatever sport they were currently playing. To me, it didn't matter what I was doing. As long as my mom was right there, by my side, the world, my world, was just as it should be.

My mother has always been my safe haven.

When I was a teenager, I would tell my mother everything. We had a relationship that mirrored Gilmore Girls. I could tell her anything and she had this miraculous ability to then feel whatever I was feeling. If I was excited, she was excited. If I was sad, she was sad. My joys were her joys. My sorrows, her sorrows. I remember crying in bed one night to her when a boy I liked hurt my feelings. She just held me, reassured me and cried with me. As I look back at my teenage-dramatic filled years, I am sure my "problems" seemed so silly to her. What boy to go with to the dance, what friend was being mean to me, what outfit I should wear on my first date. And as silly and unimportant as those things really were, my mom always made me feel understood and valid. She never made me feel stupid, but built me up and cared for me. My confidence was born here--from her support and unconditional love.

My mother has always been my confidant and my best friend.

When I grew up and into adulthood, my mother continued to teach me. She taught me how to serve others well. For example, when I lived at home the year I was engaged, I would have to leave the house at 5 in the morning to make it to work ahead of the traffic. Every morning, without fail, my mom would wake up with me, cook me a warm breakfast and pack my lunch. (Seriously, who does that?) She has always done things like that for her kids--selflessly giving of herself to make our lives easier, better, happier. My mother has shown me what a good marriage looks like--to love someone unconditionally and whole-heartedly and to have fun doing it. My parents still hold hands, still cuddle, still banter flirtatiously and still are the best of friends. My mother has continually challenged me to not see everything so black and white. She has become a strong voice of reason when I can't see the other side of things. She is my truth teller, exposing hard and sinful things in my life and not being afraid to do so. I have loved watching my mom and following her lead as a strong woman.

My mother has always been my example.

And when I moved to Thailand, my mother let me go. And I don't mean it in the physical sense of letting me leave. I mean it in the most heart wrenching, faith building, utter dependence on God kind of way. I know full well that this is not her first choice for me. I know she'd rather have me close to home where we would watch tv together, cook dinner together, and do life together. I know she doesn't want her grandbabies an ocean away. And I know that the thought of me staying in Thailand longer than 3 years makes her heart hurt. But despite these things, she still let me go, realizing what many mother's never realize. That I am not her child, but that I am God's child first. And if I am God's, then He will know how to take care of me even better than she. That He, in His perfect love, will be my safe haven. My confidant. My best friend. My example.

When I moved to Thailand and my mother let me go, I have never felt more loved by her in my entire life.

And when I become a mom someday, Lord willing, this is the single thing that I will fight to hold on to. That my child is not my own, but God's. And in order to love them they way they deserve to be loved, means giving them back to God.

I am so very grateful for my mom. And I am so very proud of us. I am proud of us for always being open with each other and having such a solid relationship. I am proud of us for working through hard situations and extending forgiveness and grace. And I am proud of us for letting each other go. For as hard as it was for her, it was just as hard for me. This scared, attached little girl has branched out to a world of unknowns. And while it is my love for the Lord that drives me, it is her support and life-long training that sustains me.

Proverbs 31:28-29

Her children rise up and call her blessed;

her husband also, and he praises her;

"Many women have done excellently,

but you surpass them all"

So here's to you, Momma, for you truly do surpass them all.

culture shock.

I have been crucified with Christ.

It is no longer I who live, but it is Christ who now lives within me.

The life I live in the flesh, I live by faith in the Son of God.

Because the Son of God loved me.

And He gave Himself for me.

They say culture shock is supposed to be hitting around this time. The honeymoon stage should be coming to a close and the daily nuances of living in another culture ought to be settling in. All of a sudden, the people, the food, the language are no longer fun and entertaining. They're draining.

We were warned about this stage. We knew it would eventually happen and we were prepared to handle it and "ride it out". However, the culture shock still has taken me by surprise. Not because I wasn't ready for it, but because it showed its face in an unexpected way.

You see, I am still loving the people. The politeness, gentleness, friendliness, and helpfulness of the Thais is something I hope to never take for granted. It's something I hope to learn from.

I still love the food. The fact that we can get a delicious meal for only $1 still amazes me. Besides the coagulated blood soup and fried insects, Thailand has some of the best food in the world.

And believe it or not, I am still loving the language. Even though the word "mai" means mile, new, no, right, and silk. Yes, it can be frustrating at times, but I am still enjoying the process and the challenge.

No, it's not the people, the food or the language that is causing this culture shock.

It's the location.

I miss home.

It's a weird feeling, really. To be so content and at peace in one place, yet still be longing to be in another. Since leaving home, a lot of big things have happened. Friends have gotten engaged, family members are moving, weddings are being celebrated, loved ones are having babies. Life is continuing on. And we're not a part of it.

I hate that.

And somewhere in the midst of this unexpected culture shock, my heart has grown bitter. At random times throughout the day, I have found myself thinking thoughts like...

Why do some people get to live in the same town as their entire family and I don't?

Why do some people get to have coffee with their best friends every week and I can't?

Why do all our friends get to start their families now and we need to wait?

Why are some never drawn to serve God overseas and we are?

It doesn't seem fair, God...

Without even realizing it, I have found myself wishing for someone else's life. Someone else's circumstances. Someone else's calling. In other words, I caught myself thinking our time here was a curse rather than a blessing. I started measuring my life based on earthly treasures rather than heavenly ones. I was falling in love with my own plans again rather than being hopelessly devoted to God's.

Maybe God's plan wasn't worth my everything. Maybe I could please God and my flesh at the same time. Maybe, just maybe, I didn't have to be crucified with Christ.

But here I am. On Good Friday. Pondering what this day really means. Pondering the crucifixion of Christ and its eternal weight. Pondering the fact that my sinful soul is counted free because the sinless Savior died. Pondering the unmatched call and will of Jesus Christ and wondering if He ever told God that "this doesn't seem fair".

Somehow I don't think He did.

Despite His pain and suffering on this day, somehow I don't think He was whining to God like I have been. I think He knew the will of His Father and saw it not as a curse, but as a gift.

The gift to do what God had purposed for Him and to do it with faith and obedience. The gift to be used by God for the sake of others.

The gift to offer Himself as a living, perfect, and holy sacrifice.

Jesus' life and death and resurrection. What a gift.

Our life, our death to flesh, our resurrection for the glory of God. It's a gift, too.

So on this day, I am challenging myself to shock myself out of this culture shock. To stop believing that this far away journey is a curse and, instead, embrace it as a sweet and gracious gift.

...For I have been crucified with Christ.

It is no longer I who live, but it is Christ who now lives within me.

The life I live in the flesh, I live by faith in the Son of God.

Because the Son of God loved me.

And He gave Himself for me.

I've never really been into art...

...but I couldn't help but notice this little shop on the side of the road.

Steven and I were walking the streets of "Ban Twai" one afternoon. It's one of our favorite places in Chiang Mai. It's an area outside of town that the Queen originally set up for the village people of Thailand. The purpose was to give them a populated place to display and sell their original and unique handicrafts.

It's so fun.

Steven and I have already been there 3 times--going from store to store looking at antiques, intricate woodwork, handicrafts, ceramic tableware, clothes, etc. You name it, Ban Twai probably has it. And if they don't, they'll make it for you. (Steven and I brought in a picture of a desk and credenza that we really liked to one of the woodwork shops and they are custom making it for us! Pics to come...) Who needs Pottery Barn when you have Ban Twai?

So as we were perusing one Saturday afternoon, my eye was caught by this little art shop. Sidenote: I have been wanting to get something to make our house a little more "homey" since we moved in. All of the decorations and furniture were already provided (praise God!), but I was itching at the chance to put pick out something for our house that was "us". Call me high maintenance, but nesting has become a big deal to me. I think it helps me feel settled and at peace. Don't get me wrong, I love our house. But now I just want it to be home.

And so, we started looking at this woman's paintings. They were beautiful. Abstract, full of color, life and a story. I was getting really excited.

A couple of years ago when we were in our couples Bible Study in Chicago, we challenged each other to come up with a mission statement and vision for our marriages. As we shared them with each other over the following weeks, one of the couples had a great idea. They thought it would be cool to narrow down our mission statements to just one word and then have it displayed somewhere in our houses. It would be a simple reminder of the purpose and vision for our marriages, while also being an interesting and fun conversation piece.

I loved the idea.

And as I walked around this little art shop in Ban Twai, I was reminded of it. Wouldn't it be cool to have this woman paint a picture for our house with our mission statement somehow in it?

I was sold.

A couple days later, the woman was at our house with her little boy, helping us come up with the colors and design of our painting. It, again, was such a gift to see God continue to bless us here. Not only with a great house and something special to make it home, but also with this unique opportunity to make a new friend.

And so, here it is. Our proud display of the mission statement of our marriage.

Hesed in art.

The hesed of God means the saving from enemies and troubles; the redemption from sin; the keeping of His covenants; a passionate and relentless love.

The hesed of man means kindness towards others, servanthood; lovingkindness extended to the lowly, needy and miserable; mercy and grace.

What a beautiful reminder of God's hesed towards us and our call to be hesed to the world around us. We pray this artwork will be the beginning of many conversations of the unfathomable hesed that many do not yet know.

¹ Give thanks to the LORD, for he is good.
His hesed endures forever.
² Give thanks to the God of gods.
His hesed endures forever.
³ Give thanks to the Lord of lords:
His hesed endures forever.

⁴ to him who alone does great wonders,
His hesed endures forever.
⁵ who by his understanding made the heavens,
His hesed endures forever.
⁶ who spread out the earth upon the waters,
His hesed endures forever.
⁷ who made the great lights—
His hesed endures forever.
⁸ the sun to govern the day,
His hesed endures forever.
⁹ the moon and stars to govern the night;
His hesed endures forever.

¹⁰ to him who struck down the firstborn of Egypt
His hesed endures forever.
¹¹ and brought Israel out from among them
His hesed endures forever.
¹² with a mighty hand and outstretched arm;
His hesed endures forever.

¹³ to him who divided the Red Sea asunder
His hesed endures forever.
¹⁴ and brought Israel through the midst of it,
His hesed endures forever.
¹⁵ but swept Pharaoh and his army into the Red Sea;
His hesed endures forever.

¹⁶ to him who led his people through the wilderness;
His hesed endures forever.

¹⁷ to him who struck down great kings,
His hesed endures forever.
¹⁸ and killed mighty kings—
His hesed endures forever.
¹⁹ Sihon king of the Amorites
His hesed endures forever.
²⁰ and Og king of Bashan—
His hesed endures forever.
²¹ and gave their land as an inheritance,
His hesed endures forever.
²² an inheritance to his servant Israel.
His hesed endures forever.

²³ He remembered us in our low estate
His hesed endures forever.
²⁴ and freed us from our enemies.
His hesed endures forever.
²⁵ He gives food to every creature.
His hesed endures forever.

²⁶ Give thanks to the God of heaven.
His hesed endures forever.

Psalm 136

March 17th.

I never liked Saint Patrick's Day.

Maybe it's because I'm Asian. I could never fool anyone into thinking I was Irish like the rest of my friends. In elementary school, I remember wondering why there was never a "Samurai Day" where I could wear a "Kiss me, I'm Japanese!" shirt.

In middle school, I didn't liked Saint Patrick's Day because, not only did I not know who the guy even was, but we didn't even get a day off of school for him. I mean, atleast Casimir Pulaski got us a three day weekend...

And even as I grew up, I still didn't like Saint Patrick's Day. In college, while most loved waking up at 8 am to drink green beer and celebrate the day, I found it extremely sad. I remember one Saint Patty's Day, sitting in speech class where a guy gave an entire speech completely wasted. While it was admittedly (somewhat) impressive, it always bothered me how so many people on campus got so ridiculously drunk that day. I just didn't get it.

And even today, the distaste still stands. But not because I can't wear a cool shirt or because I have to watch people drink themselves into oblivion. I don't like Saint Patrick's Day because its careless and naive celebration seems like a total blasphemous and dishonoring act towards the man most people think is a leprechaun.

Let me explain.

A couple of years ago I actually learned who Saint Patrick was. No, he's not a leprechaun who looks for pots of gold at the end of rainbows. And no, he's not even Irish.

Without getting into a huge history lesson, simply put, Saint Patrick was a hero of the faith. An ordinary man, yet a great missionary used by God in big ways. Born in Britain, but captured and sent to Ireland as a young man, Saint Patrick was enslaved for 6 years. He eventually escaped back to Britain where he grew in His faith and love for the Lord. It was there that he felt God calling him back to Ireland--to bring the good news of the Gospel to the very people whom he had fled. And so, he returned to Ireland and began boldly preaching the Gospel. First to the Royal family, then to the masses. Through God, he and his disciples converted thousands and built churches all over the country. Bottom line: Saint Patrick is the missionary credited with converting Ireland to Christianity.

And look at the way we celebrate his life and mission.

It just seems so wrong.

Since learning about Saint Patrick's story, I have often wondered if he's up in heaven hating the way the world has changed his story. I wonder if he identifies with Jesus--knowing that their day of celebration has just become another commercialized holiday. I wonder if he is disgusted by the way he is remembered.

I told Steven tonight how I'd be so sad if people remembered me wrongly. How I want to be remembered as a woman who feared the Lord, a woman who loved Jesus and His calling, a woman who failed every day but felt the grace of God abundantly and honestly. I told him how I would hate to be remembered any differently. For my children, my grandchildren, my great-grandchildren to not know of my deep love and gratitude to my Savior. Or worst yet, for them to celebrate my life by dishonoring or abandoning their God, my God.

And as I was imagining the heartache, I realized that it probably doesn't matter. That Saint Patrick probably isn't mourning his misrepresented life. Because it's not about how people remember me. Or him. And it's not even how people remember God in my life. Or how many people were saved through his.

It's about how God remembers us.

For He is our Audience of one. And if God can remember my love and saving faith through the sacrifice of His Son, then does anything else really matter? My reputation. My accomplishments. My remembrance. Who cares. The only one who needs to truly know me and celebrate me is my Heavenly Father, the eternal God, the righteous Judge.

I bet when Saint Patrick finally met God face to face on that glorious day, receiving a "Well done, my good and faithful servant" was all he cared about. That day, today, and for all eternity, the Lord our God will remember every good and faithful deed carried out by His servant. And well, that's more than enough. That's all there is.

*To read more about St. Patrick, click here.