10 Minute Monday: When is Enough…

Tags

10 minutes mondays, midlife crisis

I keep meeting so many bloggers with great aspirations. I love it! But…it makes me feel like my simple life and my small dreams can’t begin to measure up. No one said they have to and that’s where so many feelings get in the way. Guilt, discontent, fear…

I’m supposed to be writing a blog about having a mid-life crisis, but I am beginning to see that, while I am no longer content to be a wall flower and I’ve certainly pushed myself to try new things (and had fun doing it), it has been the inner struggle of trying to sort out just who I am that has created the most conflict.

Part of the conflict comes from wanting more but not knowing what exactly. How do you flesh out a vision when there is no dream to pursue? Part of the conflict comes from being content with who and where I am right now, but struggling with this nagging sense that I should want more, and feeling guilty that I am not pushing myself harder.

Looking back over the last 5 years, I can see that I have changed. I’ve learned to cry less and laugh more. My outlook on the value of life and the importance of relationships has deepened, without becoming burdensome. And while I still want to “make my mark on the world”, I’m seeing that that mark doesn’t have to be in the form of a charismatic leader on the world stage.  I may never win a literary award and my only claim to fame may be in son’s eyes, but part of me is ok with that.  Not “OK” in the sense that I’m resigned to a fate of obscurity in the annals of history, but “OK” in the sense that it is enough. Right now.

Perhaps, at times, it is even more than enough. This week, to the broken-hearted woman whose friend had passed away only hours before, I was someone she could trust to share her grief in that moment. To the little girl in the public restroom, who couldn’t quite reach the soap dispenser, I was a friendly “mom-type” to set the water temperature and high-five so we both had gooey hands. Perhaps it’s in those moments that I am more “me” than I realize, and if so, I am content with my life.

Krista O’Reilly Davi Digui’s well-written and honest piece entitled “What if All I Want is a Mediocre Life?” showed up on my Facebook Page. I would encourage you to read it. Even if you don’t necessarily want a mediocre life, the reality is that most of us will never walk a red carpet, but is that such a bad thing? When is enough, right now, in the moment, simply and beautifully, more than enough?

There’s still so much to sort out, isn’t there?

Somewhere between the hot and the cold
Somewhere between the new and the old
Somewhere between who I am and who I used to be
Somewhere in the middle, you’ll find me

– John Mark Hall/Casting Crowns, Somewhere In The Middle lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Capitol Christian Music Group

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This has been a “10 Minute Monday” post (where I write about whatever I want for a minimum 10 minutes, no editing – mayhem, memories, maudlin mumblings, or  “mwa ha ha” moments.

W: We Fall Apart

Tags

#atozchallenge, faith, grief

My first brush with death came when my grandfather passed away. I was 3. The viewing was at the farmhouse and I remember I had to be a “good” girl and play quietly by myself. I remember playing with coloured pieces of paper, cut out by scissors, with puppies and kitties drawn in ink. I wonder who made those drawings? I also remember my Dad picking me up to say “goodbye” to my grandfather. He was so pale in his strange “bed”, and I wondered when Papa was going to wake up.

I’ve been told, however, that my brother, being 4 years my senior, crawled under a table and refused to come out.

My grandmother refused to have music in the house or at the funeral. She thought it would make her cry, and one does not cry in public. Ever. Not even on the day you bury the love of your life.

Not having music baffled me, since it’s such an integral part of my life. That was, until my best friend’s funeral. I could hum before I could speak, but when it came time to sing, I couldn’t make any sounds. I was the last to leave her graveside, even though it was winter and bitterly cold.

This month, I wrote a letter to my unborn baby, simply because I had an overwhelming need for her to know that she was loved.

This week, I sat for awhile with a Mom who lost her son last Fall. He had had a thriving practice, an active lifestyle, a beautiful fiancee. But he died, suddenly, in the night. She hasn’t been able to return to work, and life is anything but “normal”.  She showed me his picture. She showed me the cross she wears that he once wore faithfully. Though in obvious pain, she talked and talked about her beautiful boy. Her grief was palpable and bubbling over in her rush of words.

Grief touches us all, and it’s not always the loss of a person through death. It can be the loss a relationship, a job, a dream. We all cope with loss in different ways, because we are all different. I have seen people drop to their knees and howl at the heavens, and sit painfully still, whimpering like a wounded animal. I have seen people physically collapse; marriages too. I have seen eyes welling up unexpectedly in grocery stores, and others fighting to “carry on” because “that’s what you do”.

But in the end, we all fall apart.

And I think there’s beauty in that wilderness, in the intensity of our raw emotions. Perhaps not in the ways we fall apart, in how we express our grief, but in the simple fact that we do. Princes and paupers. Sinners or saints. Slave or free. In these ways, there is common bond.

And when we fall apart, when someone reaches out to us in those most vulnerable moments, I think that’s the most beautiful of all.

 But isn’t it beautiful the way we fall apart/
It’s magical and tragic all the ways we break our hearts/
So unpredictable…we think we’re invincible/
Completely unbreakable and maybe we are/
Isn’t it beautiful the way we fall apart.
We As Human, We Fall Apart

 

I Quit!

Tags

#atozchallenge, humour, life

Quit!

It’s not really a word in my vocabulary. Stubborn, obstinate, driven, perfectionistic…these words are part of the very fabric of my being. I would die fighting. Quit? No way!

I imagine there are permanent dents in the boards in the far corner of my hometown arena. If there aren’t, there should be. I must have fallen hundreds of times (on my knees, on my butt, on my face) and slid into the boards with a resounding thud, especially when I was learning to do a double-flip. I worked on it for months, on and off the ice. I think I landed on my feet only once. But I didn’t quit.

http://www.math-problem-solving.com

Math was not my subject but I diligently practiced – from roman numerals and fractions, to parabolas and quadratic equations – all through school. I always got As. I didn’t quit.

When I was a single parent and Big Guy was in the hospital for surgery (twice), I lived and studied in the in the hospital, leaving only to go to classes and write my college exams. (Thankfully my parents and grandparents filled in when I had to be away from the hospital). I did what I had to do…and I didn’t quit!

When my body failed me after Little Guy was born and I despaired that I would ever shower without tears, I didn’t quit! When I trained for Mud Hero, fully expecting to die in the woods on race day, I didn’t quit!

When life pushes me I push harder; What doesn’t kill me makes me stronger. – Skillet, Not Gonna Die

But this week I made a decision in an ongoing situation. I quit! It may be for a short time. It may be forever.

I’m giving up something I’m passionate about, something that stretches me, something that I feel I was made to do. It hurts.

My decision isn’t a knee-jerk reaction. I’ve given it a lot of thought. I’ve taken time to pray, and to listen. And all I keep hearing is “He leads me beside still waters”.(PS. 23:)  I’m not sure I know what still waters sound like anymore. It’s been awhile since I’ve been still. There are always deadlines, always preparations for the “next thing”, always voices clamoring for my attention. Sometimes the ones in my own head are the loudest of all. Everything rushes by so quickly and I’m really wondering what important moments and important people are drowned out by the roar. I’m ready to be still, to watch, to listen. I’m hoping I rediscover Someone who captured my heart a long time ago.

But in this situation, for today, maybe for a number of days, I quit!

 

H is for Hineni

Tags

#atozchallenge, faith, family

I’ll be honest. I struggled with “H”. So many “H” words come to mind, and this time of year, heartbreak & hope are knit tightly together for me. I can’t begin to share my grief, not yet, not now. But another “H” word has surfaced recently, and I want to watch for where it might surface in my own life, either as a gift to me or a gift I can give.

Hineni.  It’s a powerful Hebrew word that means “Here I am”. It is an offer of total availability. It is a call to unconditional devotion and a willingness to sacrifice.

To a broken soul, to a frightened child, to an insecure wife it can mean:

I am present. I am listening. I am going to take care of you. I am going to comfort you. I am going to stay. I am going to walk with you through this.

Months ago I read a story about a photo a husband took of his wife, sleeping next to her daughter in the crib. The wife later explained the promise she had made to her little girl.

Just before their daughter was born, this Mom heard a missionary speak about an orphanage he visited in Africa. In its nursery, were 100 cribs with 100 babies, but there were no sounds. No gurgles or coos. No crying. Just silence.  When he asked the host why it was so quiet, she explained that “after about a week of them being here, and crying out for countless hours, they eventually stop when they realize no one is coming for them”.

This breaks my heart.

I believe, at the heart of every person, is a deep need to have someone in their life who will say Hineni – Here I am!

Little Guy once asked me “How much do you love me?” and I answered him. I didn’t know at the time that I could have summed up my whole explanation in one word: Hineni – Here I am. Here I will always be. I am present. I am listening. I will comfort you. I will guide you. I will walk with you. I offer you my unconditional love and I am willing to sacrifice everything for you.

It’s how a parent should respond to their child. It’s how spouses should respond to one another. It’s how friends should respond too. I pray I have responded this way to my family and friends, thousands of times. And I pray that it will be thousands more.

 

 

 

 

A is for Adored

Tags

#atozchallenge, faith, humour, women of the Bible

I started planning for the A to Z Challenge in January. Now it’s April, all I have is a list of 5 topics, and I’m already 2 days behind. So I’ve decided, rather than worrying about it, I’m going to start late. I may not write every day. It may take 6 months. My posts may range from foolishness to faith to family, but it’s mostly foolishness anyway.  I’m going to persevere with the exercise & just do it! (Feel free to poke me if I don’t)! Here goes…

***

It’s no mistake that scripture records the transformation of a few “fallen women”. Satan likes to use lies that connect to our femininity, our sexuality and our self-esteem to keep us bound so that we won’t live a life free in Jesus. And we won’t be free to worship Him. It takes a mighty God to break the lies and transform our lives. Jesus was often a magnet to the weary, the thirsty and the broken. I think all of that is why I’m drawn to today’s woman. She knew she had nothing to lose and everything to gain…

Today’s lady appears in Luke 7, and is referred to as “the town harlot”, “a notorious sinner”, and an “immoral woman”. She knew what people thought of her, had heard the whispers and witnessed the rude stares.

Simon, the Pharisee, also had a reputation too. He was educated and pious, likely a well-respected member of “high” society.

This woman learns that Simon the Pharisee was hosting a dinner party at his house, and Jesus had been invited. We do not know what prompted her to come to Simon’s home but she came bringing her most prized possession in an alabaster jar.

Alabaster jars were common containers for perfumes and oils. It would have been made of soft stone, light and creamy in colour, and small. So small she could hold it in the palm of her hand. The jar itself was not expensive, but rather what was shielded inside. It likely contained all the perfume she owned – imported pure nard, all essence, no alcohol, extravagantly expensive. But she wasn’t wearing the perfume to draw attention to herself. Her attention was solely fixed on the guest of honour.

“…and as she stood behind him at his feet weeping, she began to wet his feet with her tears”. Perhaps from a well so deep inside her that it had never seen the light of day, tears pour out in an endless stream. Her dark shame, anger, disappointments, hurts…all the scalding words, looks, rejections…spilling out, leaving her vulnerable, exposed, and repentant…no longer caring who saw or what they thought. Caring only that Jesus saw her, knew her, forgave her, and loved her. Not only did Jesus not reject her, was not disgusted at her boldness or her tears, but He accepted her worship. His grace increased her devotion.

With her head bowed in reverence and submissions, she drops to her knees and unbinds her hair. According to social custom, doing so in public was so provocative, so abhorrent that it could be grounds for divorce. She used what may have been her greatest beauty, one of her “charms” to dry his feet. Jesus did not recoil from her touch but received her adoration. She performs one of the most intimate and innocent of acts – she kisses his bare, stone-bruised feet. Her unabashed affection and total humility are breath-taking.

“…she kisses them and she poured perfume on them”. It was too late for restraint. With purpose, she pours the contents of her jar over his feet, every priceless drop. You see, these jars of perfume had no lid. They were opened by breaking the box and then all the perfume had to be used. She didn’t just open it and use as little as possible, as we would do with expensive perfume. She used the whole thing and freely chose to do so.

Jesus was aware of the commentary and the looks all around Him, even from his host. Simon said to himself, “If this man were a prophet, he would know who is touching him and what kind of woman she is”. But Jesus knew Simon’s heart, so he tells Simon the story of two men. Both owed a money lender a sum but neither could repay it. The money lender cancels the debt of both. Which would be more grateful? “Simon replied, ‘I suppose the one who had the biggest debt cancelled.'”

“Do you see this woman?” Jesus asks Simon.  Simon saw her, but for what she was, not who she was…

“I came into your house. You did not give me any water for my feet, but she wet my feet with tears and wiped them with her hair.” It was customary for a host to offer water and a towel for guests to cool and clean their tired and dusty feet. In fact, providing water was a minimal gesture of hospitality.

Jesus continued, “You did not give me a kiss but this woman, from the time I entered, has not stopped kissing my feet”. A brotherly kiss on the cheek was a common greeting. Between host and the honoured guest it was a symbol of homage or submission. This sinful woman not only kissed Jesus’ feet, but kissed them repeatedly though she was neither a relative nor a close friend. Her kisses were not erotic but were a sign of devotion and repentance.

“You did not put oil on my head, but she has poured perfume on my feet”. She not only broke open her jar, she shattered the mold of how worship was to be done – passionately, personally, and with humble adoration.

By pointing out the things she did right and the things Simon should have done, Jesus managed to affirm her and admonish him at the same time, without stripping either of their dignity. The contrast of their actions spoke loudly for themselves. A woman, who embodied everything the Pharisee hated, earned a 4-star hospitality rating…in Simon’s home.

“Therefore, I tell you, her many sins have been forgiven – for she loved much”. Without a word she expressed repentance. Without a sound, she cried out for forgiveness. Without a syllable, she spelled out the desire of her heart: to love him. Perhaps she had already given up her life of sin. After all, the evidence of a changed heart knelt at his feet.

Then Jesus said to her, “Your sins are forgiven…Your faith has saved you…go in peace”. Forgiveness is always personal with Him. Jesus died for the sins of the whole world, but forgiveness comes to each of us, individually, when we demonstrate our readiness to accept it. We only need to ask.

We don’t learn any more about this woman, but I believe she left that house with her head held high, her heart and life changed forever. God’s most profound miracles are in our hearts and lives. I’m a living miracle. The only excuse I have for any victory or joy or hope in my life is the supernatural redeeming power of Christ. Moving a mountain is nothing to God compared to changing a destructive life.

Romans 8:1 says “therefore there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus”. God will not turn away from you.

You are loved. You are of infinite worth. God demonstrated the greatest love for us when he sent Jesus to die on a cross. It was personal. The apostle Paul wrote, “For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord). (Rom. 8:38-39).

In the book, The Scarlet Letter by Nathaniel Hawthorne, the main character, Hester, committed adultery and as part of her punishment, she had to wear a scarlet letter. By the end of the book, Hester’s actions displayed a transformed life, and everyone thought the scarlet letter meant “Able”. In a way, I have also worn a scarlet letter and some could look at me and say that my letter stands for “Able” or “Administrator”. But I know I am only able because God has transformed me and empowers me. My letter actually stands for something else – Adored by God.

Turn away from the noise of the world, renew the state of your heart at the feet of Jesus and worship the One whose opinion of us really matters.

References:
Bad Girls of the Bible by Liz Curtis Higgs
New International Version (NIV) Holy Bible, New International Version®, NIV® Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984, 2011 by Biblica, Inc.® Used by permission. All rights reserved worldwide.

Wordy Wednesday: Perfect Blend

Tags

faith, ministry, photography, Wordy Wednesday

I changed it from Wordless Wednesday to Wordy Wednesday because Hubby pointed out that I always add a quote…or a saga to my photos. I can’t help it – I love words!

But words are things, and a small drop of ink, Falling like dew, upon a thought, produces that which makes thousands, perhaps millions, think. – Lord Byron

Sometimes I want to communicate why I chose a picture from the hoards taking up space on my hard drive. Sometimes I love the way a quote married with a photo brings another layer to one or the other, or even both. Marriages are supposed to have layers of depth and intimacy, colour and texture, kind of like a photograph. And when I see two together that are a perfect blend, I smile.

Today signals the start another 9 week session of our Ladies’ Outreach ministry at the church, where I am both card & stamping teacher, master of ceremonies, Chair of the committee, and this week, speaker. A lot of hats for one little person. I start it feeling tired and I end it feeling tired, but when I imagine not being there, my heart aches. I love the creativity, and the laughter and fellowship of these women. I love these women! We are different ages and stages; we come from different backgrounds and different places of brokenness, but none of it matters. I see God working in them and through them, and I trust that He is working in and through me too. Fun, Food & Fellowship!

Creativity is intelligence having fun. – Albert Einstein

Happy Wednesday!

10 Minute Monday: The Maker of Noses

Tags

10 minutes mondays, faith, family

It’s hard to believe it’s been almost a year since Hubby & I started discussing the possibility of a move north, and by north, I mean, north to “cottage country” – where winter brings serious snows and summer brings, well, tourists. I’m not sure which I would dislike more.

Hubby had a job opportunity. Over the years, Hubby has had a number of job opportunities in Canada and the U.S., but convincing me was always the biggest obstacle. I didn’t want to move away far away from my parents (and now, my oldest son), I didn’t want to uproot our kids (both are shy and make friends slowly), I liked my job, my ministry, my 2 friends… I prayed about it too, but it never really felt “right”. Until this time. This time I sincerely wanted my words and my life to match. If I say I will trust God and go or do whatever or wherever He calls me, then I needed to be willing to do it. When I wavered or felt overwhelmed, I’d sing: “But the Father of hearts and the Maker of noses
And the Giver of dreams He’s the one I have chosen, and I will follow Him”.

So we prayed, and we talked, and Hubby went for his second meeting…up north.

And a part of me actually got a little excited. There are advantages and disadvantages to living in “cottage country”. While the commute to see family was further, it also meant realizing a dream to move out of the city. There were options as to which town or village we settled in. One had 2 rivers running through it, with plenty of hiking and biking trails with lush, tall evergreens and rugged gray rocks. There would be plenty of opportunities for fresh air and beautiful scenery to shoot year round. We could afford a bit bigger and much nicer home (I found a gorgeous all-season chalet nestled in the pines right on a lake – and it was in our price range…but sadly, not close enough to Hubby’s work). I might be unemployed for awhile, freeing me to pursue writing or photography, or something wonderful and not yet known. And yes, I could be free of bad drivers and cellphone addicts! At least in theory.

Last Summer, we “vacationed” there for 2 nights. We drove around, shopped at Wal-Mart (can you believe I only packed one outfit for a 2 day excursion?) and dined at Tim Horton’s. We did one big “tourist attraction” and nearly died of heat exhaustion. The “locals” were normal people, going about their normal days. It certainly wasn’t the idyllic scene I had envisioned, but there was potential, and I did my best to keep my heart and mind open to it.

But I still didn’t really know what to do, and as it turned out, I didn’t have to do anything. The company never contacted us again and we settled back into our “normal” lives. But I feel stronger somehow, as if I survived a test. And while I may have listened to the advice of those in our little “world”, I am happy with the choice I made…to simply rust the Maker of noses.

 

When I finally ask the world, they give me this advice
Say boy you just follow your heart, but my heart just led me into my chest
They said follow your nose; The direction changed every time I go and turn my head
They said boy you just follow your dreams, but my dreams were only misty notions
But the Father of hearts and the Maker of noses
And the Giver of dreams  – He’s the one I have chosen
And I will follow Him.
Rich Mullins, The Maker of Noses

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This has been a “10 Minute Monday” post (where I write about whatever I want for a minimum 10 minutes, no editing – mayhem, memories, maudlin mumblings, or  “mwa ha ha” moments.

 

10 Minute Monday: Made for Walking

Tags

children, faith, family

My boots were made for walking, and that’s just what I did…but not my sassy green boots, or even my black “hooker” boots. No, this past Saturday, I wore comfortable boots and layers of clothing because, along with our Church Jr. Youth Group, I was walking to raise money for a local organization that provides a “hands up” for those in our community. Not only was I raising money for charity, I was walking to be an example to these kids.

‘Do as I say, but not as I do’ is not an effective way of teaching anything.
– John A. Garrity

These kids are part of our future. They are also part of today!

We teach our kids to wait their turn, to make friends, to “play nice” in the sandbox. And even though the sandbox gets larger every year and they meet people who kick sand in their faces, we still expect them to be to consider others.  We tell them they can make a difference in their world by showing mercy and living heart to heart…but so often, we forget to show them the way.

I cannot believe what you say because I see what you do. – anonymous

We are blessed to have amazing youth leaders who give our kids opportunities to serve others. And while I recognize Little Guy’s need for time away from Mom and Dad, this time I felt the need to get involved too. 

I needed to show them that I supported what they are doing…and not just with my pocketbook

I need to show them I care about people too…enough to trade my comfortable couch on a Saturday night, for the frigid streets. 

I wasn’t satisfied with sending them off with someone else, I needed to be there too. 

We had a great time! I took lots of photos. We shared snacks. We went out for ice-cream after it was all over (right about the time it started snowing!) And on Sunday morning, we all wore our blue & yellow hats with pom-pom on top! (and you know how much I love hats!) 

All the ducks in a row…

Yes, we got cold! Our cheeks turned red and our noses ran. By the time we finished our 5K walk, our bodies were tired (and mine ached in weird places). Our walk didn’t “change the world”, but we may have helped make it better for someone. And maybe these kids’ boots will keep on walking for a lot of years to come …

The most powerful way to change the world is to live our lives in front of our children the way we would like the world to be. -Graham R. White

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This has been a “10 Minute Monday” post (where I write about whatever I want for a minimum 10 minutes, no editing – mayhem, memories, maudlin mumblings, or  “mwa ha ha” moments.

 

You Must Be This Tall to Ride

Tags

faith, family, life lessons, parenting

I remember the first time Big Guy rode a big coaster. We had taken him to an amusement park, warning him that he might not be tall enough to ride. The park had one of those “You must be this tall to ride” signs and your height determined just what rides you could go on. Big Guy was just (and I mean just) tall enough to have access to all the rides. And he knew exactly where he wanted to go first – the newest, biggest, fastest coaster in the park. Ugh!

We lined up for over an hour, Big Guy excitedly chattering away about how cool this was going to be. With every inch, my nerves grew. I’ve tried to like roller coasters but without success. So when Hubby and Big Guy sat down and strapped in, I kept right on going. I heard the rest of the story after the ride.  Halfway up the first hill, Big Guy told Hubby, “I want off”, but it was too late!

Becoming a parent can be like that. There’s the waiting and anticipation for this new life; the physical and mental preparation as the date gets closer. There’s a mix of  excitement and fear, and often one panicked moment when you want everything to stop and let you “off”. But it’s too late and the ride has already begun.  And when it’s all over, the elation.

As a parent, each  day, is it’s own ride…anticipation, excitement, fear and elation. Sometimes we scream and want off; other times, we settle in and enjoy the ride.  Or worse, some parents just “chicken out”.

Last week involved a few roller coaster rides for us – there were lows and highs, laughter and tears, and one sleepless night. I wondered if my heart could take it. I’ve already endured so many bumpy and painful rides watching Big Guy grow up – I was so young, blending a family so challengeing. The rides with Little Guy already seem so much less harrowing than with Big Guy, but a lot has changed. I’ve changed.

I’ve learned…how well I fare in the ride depends on one thing:

It has nothing to do with my height or my weight, or the number of years I’ve been a Mom. It has everything to do with where I place my knees at the beginning of the day (or the middle of the day, or the 27th time in a day when I start to feel nauseous and overwhelmed). If my knees are firmly on the ground at Jesus’ feet, I’m tall enough to ride. My heart is strong enough. And in the midst of the ride, I can find joy and grace, enough to last every ride until the end of my days.

Today is just another ride, and I’m learning to like this roller coaster.

“You know, it was just so interesting to me that a ride could make me so frightened, so scared, so sick, so excited, and so thrilled all together! Some didn’t like it. They went on the merry-go-round. That just goes around. Nothing. I like the roller coaster. You get more out of it…” – Grandma, Parenthood

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This has been a 10 minute post…where I write for 10 minutes with no editing on any topic…memories, mayhem or maw ha ha moments.

Straining for the Bells

Tags

Christmas, faith

Yesterday was the last day of school. Little Guy headed out the door in his pajamas, armed with a gift for a new student. His class was holding a “Secret Santa” exchange that afternoon. We’d spent time discussing and choosing a meaningful gift for not only a newcomer to the class, but a newcomer to the country – red “Canada” mittens.

When Little Guy returned from school, the car was packed and I was ready to hit the highway. We were both so excited to start our Christmas holiday. But when I asked Little Guy who was his “Secret Santa” and what did he receive as a gift, he simply smiled and said “nothing”.

“What do you mean ‘nothing’?” I asked.

“It means nothing,” he said, looking at me like “duh”. “But I’m ok with it!” Then he went on excitedly talking about how much his new friend liked his red mittens!

I was still stunned, my heart sinking further in my chest, picturing my little boy sitting at an empty desk, holding back tears, while everyone opened gifts around him.

“So what did you do while the others were opening gifts? Where was your teacher?”

“I was watching my friends; it was fun!”

“Oh sweetie…are you ok?”

Little Guy rolled his eyes. “I’m fine. I had fun!”

A positive attitude gives you power over your circumstances instead of your circumstances having power over you. – Joyce Meyer

He really did seem fine. I, on the other hand, was not fine. I spent the whole car ride flipping from heartbreak to anger.

***

I have found as this season progressed, experiencing a whole myriad of emotions in the midst of all shopping, baking, wrapping, packing…all the necessary (but also unnecessary) holiday preparations. And I allowed them to consume me this year, not wanting or even fearing, slowing down long enough to feel the depth of those emotions. Memories of Christmases past and the empty place settings at the dining room table. Thoughts of empty places at many dining room tables this year as a result of death and disease, the baseness of humans inflicting atrocities on one another. Such a broken and fallen world.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, overwhelmed by the despair and brokenness of his world during the American Civil War, penned a simple poem on Christmas Day, 1864: I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day.

And in despair I bowed my head, there is no peace on earth I said.
For hate is strong and mocks the song – of peace on earth, goodwill to men.

Longfellow chose not to remain in despair, but instead to turn his heart and his ear…

Then rang the bells more loud and deep, God is not dead, nor doth He sleep.
The wrong shall fail, the right prevail with peace on earth, good will to men.
Then ringing singing on its way. The world revolved from night to day.
A voice, a chime, a chant sublime – of peace on earth, goodwill to men.

So this Christmas, before the family festivities begin, I am taking a moment to say a prayer that God’s grace will pour into lives, and over our communities and our world.

And while I pray, my ears are straining for the bells.

Merry Christmas!