Sarah Wiant
The Reason, In A Nutshell
Hi! My name is Sarah, and I’m 23 years old. This past December I graduated with a B.A. in Adolescence Education and English. Since then I’ve been working as a substitute teacher in two different school districts and with the Boys and Girls Club after school program in Buffalo, NY. I absolutely love my jobs and can honestly say that I enjoy getting up in the morning to go to work! As excited as I am to do Mission Year, it’s going to be hard to say goodbye to these beautiful kids I’ve been working with and grown to love over the past few months!
I grew up in Williamsville (a suburb of Buffalo) with my mom, my older brother, and my maternal grandparents. I’m very close with my family, especially my mom, so I wanted to go to a college that was close to home. Houghton College, just over an hour away from my house, was the perfect place. Its small student body (at about 1200 when I started, and smaller than my high school!), strong Christian community and rigorous academic standards were exactly what I needed at that stage in my life. It is also a safe area, which is what I was used to: Williamsville is continually ranked one of the safest places in the country, and Houghton was no different with a 0% crime rate. My education there, however, has taught me that life is not meant to be safe. There are many reasons I want and need to do Mission Year, but most importantly I want to break out of the bubble of safety to which I’ve become so accustomed. Oswald Chambers claims “the Christian life is gloriously difficult,” but I haven’t truly experienced that yet. I’ve had a glimpse by listening to the heart breaking stories of my campers at the Buffalo City Mission, and seeing the social activism of my professors and peers at Houghton, but now I’m ready to take the next step. I’m ready to be stretched and broken in an attempt to find and practice genuine faith and love on a daily basis. This next year is going to be one of the most difficult, scary, and amazing years of my life, and ya know what? I can’t wait!
~ Sarah
About Mission Year
Mission Year is a year long urban ministry program focused on Christian service and discipleship. We take teams of young people, place them in an area of need, and help them to serve people and create community. We are committed to the command of Jesus to “love God and love people,” by placing the needs of our neighbors first and developing committed disciples of Christ with a heart for the poor. Learn more about our first year program…
Sarah Wiant's Blog
A Birthday To Remember / Jun 9, 10:49 PM
My birthday was June 6th. At home, birthdays were always a big deal with my family. The birthday person gets to pick what meal we have, what dessert we have, and usually my aunt Barb comes over. Sometimes my other aunt and cousins make the trip down from Cambridge, ONT too. My aunt Barb’s birthday is June 10th, so we always celebrate together and it’s a great time of gift giving, eating, bad singing, and laughter.
After listening to my mom’s birthday voice mail before heading to church Sunday morning, I realized how strange that was: I’ve never been away from my mom on my birthday, so she’s never needed to call me to sing to me or wish me a happy day. I thought that because it was such a huge family thing for me at home that I would be missing that all the more here. Don’t get me wrong, I missed my family at home! But I still got to spend my day with family who love me, and made it just as special.
Saturday was when we really celebrated. Sabrina, a lady from our church, came with us to the Gospel Fest. It wasn’t the big one down town, it was here in Roseland and was also serving as a grand opening for a plaza a short bus ride from where we live. There was music, dancing, food, and a carnival. In fact, if you bought something from one of the stores, you could get a free ride at the carnival! Of course Rachel and I took advantage of such a wonderful opportunity, and while we were waiting in line, we saw people with pineapple drinks. Not a pineapple flavored drink in a plastic cup; no no. These were smoothie drinks inside of real pineapples. We decided we needed to have one, so we went to the stand, picked out our pineapple, and watched as the vendor scooped out the fruit in such a way that he could add the slices to the rim of our “glass”, pour in the delicious drink, and add a cherry and umbrella on top! I felt like I was on a cruise in the Bahamas, it was great! Sabrina also found out it was my birthday and bought me a cake and had “Happy Birthday Sarah” put on it in icing. We brought it to Chili’s with us, a restaurant in the plaza that we had chosen to go to, courtesy of my mother footing the bill as a present to me, and had a great time.
I woke up the next morning to cards and pictures taped to the doorway between the dining room and kitchen, as has become our custom for birthdays this year. Everything from a big “S” (standing for “Sarah”, but more for “superman” or “Smallville”, one of my favorite t.v. shows) to music notes to a Girl Scout sash, all of my loves, were represented! Throughout the day I received wonderful birthday wishes from people at church, my team, and people from back home, as well as others doing Mission Year at Citywide that night. It was certainly a wonderful way to celebrate getting another year older (especially when the thought of age kind of makes my stomach turn flips because I don’t know what I’m doing with the rest of my life…)
Thank you, Chicago family (and Buffalo family too!) for starting out year 24 on a GREAT note. I love you all! :-)
A response to hopelessness / Jun 7, 09:36 PM
The past week and a half has been one rollercoaster of emotions.
Last Wednesday (5/26), I found out my band director from high school, who was also my friend’s father and someone I still spoke with when I was home from college, passed away suddenly. The day after that, a man was shot in front of a convenience store a block away from our house. Miss Edwina and Mrs. Flucker have been warning us for weeks about a serial killer who had already taken three victims’ lives, all women, all in Roseland. Friday I came into work and found out that our friend Toya’s mother had passed away (the day before, Toya came into the office saying that her mother was looking to come home soon). Later on Friday, I was waiting for the bus not only did I hear more rude calls from men than usual, but I saw a man who I recognized from the center more drunk than I’d ever seen him before, to the point where he was offering people cigarettes if they’d buy him a cold beer.
I hit my breaking point.
As I waited for the bus, I thought this is the most depressing and hopeless community I’ve ever been in, and I don’t want to come back here. The hurt and pain that people experience here is too great. Relationships are damaging; people are driven to drugs, alcohol, promiscuity, and violence to numb themselves. Young people have no respect for themselves, let alone each other or adults. Women are degraded on a daily basis, to the point where they believe that it’s normal and even okay to be treated that way. I felt hopeless, powerless, and drained and I did not want to come back.
Unfortunately, I found no escape when I went home for my band director’s funeral. Death, broken marriages, damaging relationships, isolation, disease…the pain in my small suburban hometown is still great and just as pervading as it is in Roseland. It may take different forms, but it has the same lasting effects. I wanted to escape it for a minute, but there was nowhere to run to.
As I waited in the airport for my delayed flight, I had a chance to read another sermon by Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. (I’ve been reading his book Strength To Love – so good!) entitled Our God Is Able. I was faced with the reality that my faith has always been shaky at best. I realized that part of the reason I have struggled so much this year is because I have not learned how to develop a relationship with God. He is a distant creator to me, not a warm, loving Being that I feel intimately connected to. I know that if I want to survive this year and not give up out of sheer hopelessness, I need to figure out how to cultivate a faith that is strong and enduring.
To be honest, I’m slightly embarrassed it’s taken me this long to get to this point.
I hesitated before mentioning my struggles to my City Director (Shawn Casselberry) because part of me wants to be the “good Christian girl” who has her regular devotion time like clockwork every morning. I do have a strong desire to know God and the bible more, but I don’t seem to be getting there by reading a passage and journaling every day and having that be the end of it. Shawn gave me a bunch of great suggestions, but I think what stuck out to me most was his comment that he doesn’t spend time with his wife, or any friend, the same way every time, so why do we think that will help us get to know God better? He and his wife sometimes do things that he likes, and other times they do things that she likes, and they find joy in discovering each others passions. That makes sense to me. That’s the kind of relationship I want. It’s not cheesy or fake; it’s real and fluctuates but that’s what makes it so vibrant. Shawn wrote a blog about it too (Are Your Devotions Stale?), which I encourage everyone who struggles with this to read.
To keep going here I need to find a source of hope that is not merely my own determination to “stay positive”. I’m finding that the only way to do that is to figure out what a relationship actually means, then work on developing that with a God who loves me more than I can fathom. I think I’m going to enjoy this process. :-)
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Prom Night / May 18, 11:05 AM
So, about a week ago, it was freezing cold and we were all gathered around our kitchen table sipping tea after dinner to warm up. We heard the familiar sounds of children running up our front steps and the incessant knocking to come out and play. We looked around at each other at the table thinking…it is far too cold to play outside today…but we went to the door anyway.
As we stepped outside to talk with some of our favorite kiddos, we looked down a couple houses and saw a MASSIVE gathering of people outside of Marquis and Marshawn’s house. There were balloons, ribbons, and camera flashes everywhere. We asked the girls if they knew what was going on and Day Day said it was Marquis’ Prom night!
We stood on the porch trying to catch glimpses of the dolled up couple, completely amazed at the crowd and reminiscing about our own prom experiences. Marshawn kept running up and down the block, filled with about as much excitement as his brother it seemed! When he stopped to catch his breath on our porch, we asked him if all of Marquis’ friends from school and their dates were at his house too. He looked confused and said yeah, his whole family was over, cousins, friends, everybody. Rachel asked about his classmates, and Marshawn said no, it was just him and “his girl”.
We realized then that making it far enough through high school to go to a prom is a rare occurrence here. It was awesome to watch the entire neighborhood come out to support him, love on him, and pray over him. We don’t know him all that well, but from the few instances we’ve had to hang out with him (like when he helped chaperone a kids club trip to see the bulls play) he’s shown himself to be respectful, mature, and responsible. A great role model for all the kids on our block, not just his own little brother.
And let me tell you, he and his date looked GREAT! :-)
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"Raindrops keep fallin on my head..." / Mar 17, 05:46 PM
I am learning to love the rain.
In the past, I’ve always said that rainy days help us appreciate the sunny days more, which is true. But just over the past couple days I’ve begun to appreciate the rain on its own, regardless of its relation to the sun. Likewise, in the past I’ve only seen my trials as bumps in my sunny life. I am a naturally positive person and when I’m sad, I feel like I’ve failed in some way. Instead of embracing the difficulty I’m facing, I focus all my energy on fixing whatever I’m struggling with so that I can get back to being positive. James talks about having joy in the midst of trials, but I don’t think he means putting on a smile and forgetting we’re struggling, or needing to fix the problem right away so that we can get back to being happy. I think he meant that we need to embrace our struggles as part of the ebb and flow of our lives here on earth; to not rush through them, but to live in them and appreciate them as a means of growing.
I did that for the first time today. Yesterday was an especially rough day at the shelter, and over the past week I’ve been dealing with some other personal issues, so the combination led to a breaking point. Instead of doing what I do best, putting on a smile and pretending like I’m not sad, I decided to share my struggle with my team. I cried in front of them, was vulnerable in front of them, and expected nothing in return. I simply needed to give voice to the frustration and sadness I’d been trying to suppress and fix on my own. By verbalizing my struggle, I was showing myself that it’s okay, natural, and even good to be sad sometimes. In fact, the very process of crying releases built up toxins in the body (thank you Ashley Hackett!) – it is a physically necessary process.
We didn’t have a group hug after I shared, or spend an hour discussing why I was feeling this way and how I could fix it. I spoke, they heard, and I was allowed to simply “be” in my struggle. When everyone had gone their separate ways to work or their rooms, I sat in our living room reading curriculum and listening to the rain. In that moment, I couldn’t think of anywhere else I’d rather be. Call it peace or contentment or joy, but it was a truly liberating experience.
Thank You, God, for the rain.
Phillippians 4:10-13
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"You are a destructive, glorious mess." / Jan 28, 06:53 PM
At least, that’s what Wisdom says to Mack in the book The Shack. But let me start at the beginning.
Part One: Amari. He is a one and a half year old little boy at the shelter, and I love him. This may come as no surprise because I have ALWAYS loved children, but now I’m developing relationships with children who don’t really communicate verbally, and that’s been an interesting concept to grasp. Amari isn’t a child prodigy, he can’t have meaningful conversations with me (or silly ones for that matter), he doesn’t sing or play a musical instrument, and he doesn’t need help with his homework. He’s still not talking other than nonsensical baby sounds. He gets frustrated that he can’t communicate, so he either bites other children or lies down on the floor and cries. He’s not even the cutest baby at the shelter. Sometimes he zones out and runs around in circles or into the wall. He has absolutely nothing to offer me other than a smile, and still I love him. All he has to do is look at me and reach his hands up, and my heart melts.
Part Two: The Shack. I was hesitant to read this book, but I suppose that was all part of God’s perfect timing, because it fits in with everything I’ve been learning over the past few months. For those of you who haven’t heard much about it, The Shack is a story about a man named Mackenzie (Mack) who is married with five children and disillusioned with Christianity. Mack receives a note to go back to the shack where his youngest daughter was murdered and meet with “papa”, the name his wife uses to refer to God. Mack spends the weekend with God: God the Father is portrayed as a kind middle-aged African American woman, named “papa” to further mess with stereotypes; Jesus is a Middle-Eastern man who is always working in a woodshop; and the Holy Spirit is portrayed as a not-entirely-tangible Asian woman named Sarayu who loves to garden. At one point in the story, Mack goes to help Sarayu in the garden. It is an absolutely gorgeous place, with wild flowers next to roses next to vegetables, everything mixed up and beautiful. Sarayu asks Mack to help her tear down a rather large section of it, and explains when he’s finished:
“…this garden is your soul. This mess is you! Together, you and I, we have been working with a purpose in your heart. And it is wild and beautiful and perfectly in process. To you it seems like a mess, but I see a perfect pattern emerging and growing and alive…” The impact of her words almost crumbled all of Mack’s reserve. He looked again at their garden – his garden – and it really was a mess, but incredible and wonderful at the same time. And beyond that … Sarayu loved the mess.
Part Three: So What? Well, I realized that I spent my first trimester here recognizing that I was Amari, that I was a child who had nothing to offer her true Daddy, and that I was a mess. I realized I was a perfectionist, and that I continually failed to reach the high expectations I set for myself, which led to depression and guilt that I couldn’t “get it right”. Then I read the passage of scripture I mentioned in my last blog (1 John 1:5-10), and this passage from The Shack, and it just clicked. I realized that God does not love blindly; he sees all my mess but instead of condemning me, He thinks it’s beautiful. And I don’t know how else to explain it other than I get it now. I may have said this before, but for some reason it’s different now. I have joy. I may not always be “happy”, but I’m more confident knowing that He wants nothing more than to see me reach out to Him, and that doing so makes His heart melt. It is a truly amazing feeling, and I needed to share it. :-)
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