'Tis the Season

Even though the world as a whole tends to take a collective breath around Thanksgiving and Christmas, what with days off and such, my life tends to get a little busier than usual. Once I hit Thanksgiving I know finals are just around the corner. My schedule changes at school, so that throws me off; things at the store start getting crazy right after Halloween and continue to be crazy until mid-January. 
Needless to say, by the time Christmas comes around I'm ready to beg, borrow or steal just to get some time off to rest. Oh, but then there is shopping. And cleaning. And wrapping presents. And did you remember to do office gifts? Are you out of coffee? For like a week? Do you remember the last time you did laundry?
I've written about it before and I'm sure I will do it again next year. I feel totally out of spirits and almost like I need to turn my Christian card in, but Christmas is hard for me as an adult. 
 
Growing up, I LOVED Christmas. So much. I would start listening to Christmas music in July. JULY, people. I mean I see it now, that's a little crazy. But I couldn't get enough of Christmas carols and the warm memories that Christmas would bring for me. Twinkle lights and candy canes, sugar cookies and Christmas trees-- these were things I loved. I don't know if it the stress of finals and end of term papers and grades that I suffer vicariously through my students or the whole retail mess (that I promise I am still thankful for) but somewhere in there, I get so downtrodden. Could I please just have a break?!
I had my annual "Christmas is overwhelming me and I know it shouldn't be!" meltdown on Friday (sorry Jen) and after some hugs and love from mom (thanks Mom), I think I started to calm down. 

 Saturday saw another busy day at the store, which is par for the course, especially as it was the last Saturday before Christmas. But since it was Saturday, it also meant that I could cross one more thing off my to-do list: stop at Jo-Ann's for the needles I needed to finish a Christmas present. They had exactly what I needed and I think I found myself skipping back to the break room for the second half of my break. I got a lot of odd looks from my co-workers and one even commented, "Wow. You are really REALLY happy." And then I realized. I was happy. I was excited about SOMETHING. And I liked it. 

So even though I really was half-asleep this morning getting ready for church (I guess that is what happens when you spent 1.5 hours finishing a knitting project and feeling so pleased that you just.can't.fall.asleep...) I was excited to get to church. And even though I didn't drink enough coffee and got there a tad late, I was glad to be there. And even though I had to leave to go to work (to sit in a very QUIET library), I got to sing some Christmas carols with my people. And like the giant nerd that I am, found myself crying. THIS is where my heart longed to be. Not at work or running around getting stressed out, but with my church family, with my actual family. Making time to sit and sing and learn. And maybe that's the key: MAKING time. I kind of expect Christmas spirit and joy to just happen. In the crazy traffic and cranky customers, I just expect joy to be sprinkled on my like fairy dust. 

But that can't be right, can it? In today's sermon, Pastor Tim made a very interesting point. We hear it every year: In those days Caesar Augustus issued a decree that a census should be taken of the entire Roman world...and everyone went to their own town to register. We read and think, "Yes, okay. This needed to happen because of prophecy and we know that God keeps his word. Of course this makes sense." But stop for a moment and consider: taking a census takes TIME. It wasn't a whim. Caesar didn't just wake up one day and decide, "Census! Great idea!" God gave him the idea IN ENOUGH TIME for him to think it was his own idea (probably. God is sneaky like that sometimes.), talk to his advisers, and get the word out. And then enough time for word to go out to the entire Roman world. And enough time for everyone to hear it. Enough time, now that people know, to pack and make arrangements to go home. AND, of course, it all has to coincide with Mary's pregnancy so that Jesus will be born in the right place at the right time. This isn't magic, ya'll. This is a carefully planned historical event. If you want to have a good party, let God plan it. 
Anyway. I digress. The thing is, if the first Christmas took planning and lots of preparing, what makes us think that every other Christmas won't require the same amount of planning? 

So with that in mind, I'm going to prayerfully and mindfully prepare for Christmas. Not just by putting up the tree and lighting my Jack Frost candle (plus, I've already done that), but by choosing joy and choosing to make time to focus on the sacrifice that Jesus made by leaving Heaven to come to earth.
And right now, choosing joy looks like making a cup of tea to warm my fingers and my heart. Nothing speaks comfort like a cup of tea! 
I hope you remember to choose joy this week! 

But the angel said to them, "Do not be afraid. I bring you good news that will cause GREAT JOY for all the people. Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; he is the Messiah, the Lord."

Luke 2:10-11

Not My Lesson to Learn

The other week was good. It was full of family and catching up and coffee. Always coffee. (I started drinking Cafe Bustello coffee about maybe two weeks ago and I absolutely LOVE it! I even got my picky papa to try it. Anyone else??)

I got to hold my nephew (who, when he starts stretching in his swaddle blanket right before he really starts crying, looks like a turtle). I got to go on a walk with my niece (who has the biggest heart I've ever seen on an almost three year old and a memory that is slightly better than mine). I got to hang out with my sister and her husband, who thankfully got/had the day off. I love when that happens. And then of course, my baby sister and her husband were there. At one point, we were all basically around the same table and I just looked out at my crazy family and thought, "You know, even with our flaws and struggles, I'm so glad these people are my people."

And because life happens, there was some not so great stuff mixed in there, too. We had some of the hottest days of the summer that week. Not such a terrible thing if you are indoors with the air conditioner on high...except we didn't have an air conditioner. And mowing grass in that heat? Forget about it! It took me twice as long to finish because I was always stopping for water and sunscreen.

But while I was baking under the sun and dying for a breeze, I was thinking about the things that go wrong in our lives. Very "up" thoughts to be having on a beautiful sunny day, right? I thought about how we learn through life that whatever happens is a consequence of our actions, for good or bad. I mean look at Newton's third law of motion; he sees it too. I think I spent most of my life thinking that some good things that happened to me were miracles and I could only attribute them to God working in my life. Some other good things (good grades, as one example) happened because of the work I put into them. And of course, bad things were because I messed something up or was being punished for something.

I think I've been accident prone all my life, but the last few weeks I've had a few more accidents than I care to admit. Some of them were my fault, some of them were not. My gut reaction to the things that weren't my fault? WHY GOD?! I mean really, what did I do to deserve this?!?

Um..? Maybe nothing? Life happens.

In the "why me?" scenario, everything that happens is about me. I am the center of that universe. But guess what? We interact with so many people throughout the day, and I forget that maybe some of the things that happen to me are part of other people's lives and lessons to learn. We might not understand the reason behind them, but like Aslan says in The Horse and His Boy, "Child, I am telling you your story, not hers. I tell no one any story but his own."

Maybe, sometimes, the things that happen to us are just things.

It might not be something we need to work through in order to learn something about ourselves or to see where we are lacking. Maybe it isn't because we were rude to the cashier 6 weeks ago (but you know, please be nice to your cashiers. They have long days on their feet and really underneath it all, they are people too.) or we forgot to have quiet time with Jesus today.

I think how we deal with whatever happens, of course, is important. It says a lot about the times the lesson was for us and what we've learned from those times. And sometimes, maybe the experience isn't ever for us. Maybe it is for someone in the future who comes to us distraught because they don't know what to do. We can share our experiences and the lessons we've learned. And isn't that what community is all about?

A Different Kind of Tired

This past week was a totally different kind of tired than the kind I wrote about last week. It's been a wake-up-early and party-all-night, hang with friends and eat too much food kind of week. And yes, it was totally worth it. 

It did make returning to work a little bit harder than usually after the weekend I had. I spent a few days with friends visiting from California and spent the rest of the time prepping for this week. Oh, haven't I mentioned? 

My sister and her husband are visiting!! They are finally back in the States after being away for a whole year and I cannot wait to spend time with them. 

And hey, while I'm at it, I'll get to spend some time with my older sister and her family which has grown by one this last month. My nephew was born July 3 and is officially three weeks today! (I tried to call him "three weeks old" early this week and my sister said, "No he isn't!! Not yet! Slow down, man.") 

Even though things have been pretty quiet over the last week, it's probably going to stay pretty quiet this week too. I have a couple of new posts over on my book blog and am working on a few more. Of course, I might have a totally slow day and write about how my green smoothie exploded all over my white sweater on my way to work the other day. That was ... exciting. 

That's about it for me. Off to finish the coffee and cleaning! 

A Tired Faith & Dusty Offerings

There have been at least two times in my life (in recent history) when I knowingly used my gifts when I didn't want to. Both times, I ended up being surprised and amazed by the grace I was rewarded with.
It shouldn't surprise me any more, but it does.

Recently I was asked to sign a song for a good friend of mine. Of course I said yes, but when I first listened to the song I had more misgivings than this song had repeats. And boy, did it have a lot.
The list was long: it wasn't the style I usually signed, the words were so modern, the repeats, etc. I put off looking at it until it was far too late and I spent a week practically kicking and screaming, complaining to anyone who would listen, but begrudgingly learning this song.

I ended up learning all the signs and by Saturday I felt rather confident that things would go well. I mean, as confident as I could be given the amount of time I had left to study (zero) and number of days until the performance (um, again, zero). I ran through it a couple of times before bed and then decided it would have to be enough. I sent at least five alarms, got ready for bed early (for me, of course) and tried to sleep.

I was jolted awake sometime around 3 AM to the shouts and arguments of my downstairs neighbors. I tried to will myself back to sleep, knowing that if I got up to do anything, I would be unable to even think about sleeping. I couldn't tell you how long the noise went on but when my alarm went off at 6 a.m., I was sure I could afford a few more moments of sleep. However, the 4 other alarms I set didn't go off and I found myself waking up 15 minutes before I needed to leave. Things were just not going my way.

I aggressively ignored some of the speed limit signs on my way to church. I prayed that the cops would either all be asleep or at church already and that the people in front of me weren't going to my church. It wasn't just that I had overslept; I was late heading to my first practice and first performance of the song I really wish I hadn't agreed to sign.

Thankfully, I got to church with enough time to run through the song 1.5 times with the rest of the team. Unfortunately, most of the coffee I had hastily made that morning was still in my travel mug. I gulped furiously. As I gulped, our keyboardist prayed for us before the service started. His prayer quieted me and reminded my heart that this thing we were doing was simply enhancing the vocalist's gift. I needed to hear that.

I'm always nervous when I sign. Always. Even if it is a song I choose and like, I get nervous. But here I was, exhausted, under-caffeinated, wishing I was somewhere else. This was more than just normal nerves. 

I signed twice on Sunday, first service and second service. In between services, I talked with friends. I've written about these friends before, the ones who ask "How are you?" and "Are you safe?" and "Do you need anything?" and expect an honest and real answer. The ones who can see the tears in my eyes before I really know they are there. They could see I was exhausted on all levels and made sure to ask me about it. I started waking up. Not just in the way you do when the coffee kicks in, but in that way you do when your soul has been run down for so long that you think you are alone in the universe and you finally start seeing a way out.

It wasn't until I started signing in the second service that it all really hit me. I was signing about tired faith and a vast feeling of hopelessness and I didn't realize I was signing about me until that moment. I might have been asked to sign the song to help spread the message of God's love and grace to the congregation, but in that moment, the message of the song was for me.

I wasn't on my best form. It was the first song I've signed in ages, probably since Easter. My gift that morning was a halfhearted dusty offering. But in all of that, I left church that morning with a tear in my eye and the echoes of hope in my heart.

Movie Nights

I've been in my new place for well over a month now. Yay! 
And while everything looks basically moved in, I have boxes in every room that still have stuff in them that need to find a home. I'm getting better at ignoring it, but every now and then, in a quiet moment, when I'm sitting with my tea watching a movie or reading a book or just existing in my place, the boxes start to get loud. Insisting they need to be put away. 
They are extra loud recently because, as I am in my place longer, the more I realize its just me in this place. It isn't bad. Not at all. But when I was living at home I had built in community, if you will. Days could pass before I saw my mom, due to our schedules, but we would leave notes, things would be moved--something to let me know that another person inhabited the space with me. I don't have that any more and it sometimes makes me lonely. 
To combat that feeling, and cause I love her, my friend Rachel and I started a weekly movie night. Ish. She's in Massachusetts and I'm here. Using Skype makes the distance feel not so far. (I mean it still is, and nothing quite is the same as real person interaction, but I'll take what I can get right now...) We did it last week, and again last night. When we started, with cult classic Shaun of the Dead staring the hilarious Simon Pegg, I don't think we planned that it would become a thing. I hope I'm not jinxing it by writing about it here, but I love that we do it. This week it was Sliding Doors. It was a movie that she brought with her to London. I think her opinion of me went down a little when she found out I'd never seen it before. We fixed that and I now own it. And love it. For me, it is as much about London as it is about friendship and love. Rachel and I love the same bits, loathe the same bits and laugh at pretty much the whole movie. It would have been ten times better if she had actually been here, sitting on the couch with me, but ya know? Watching it with her, laughing with her, making sad faces at the not so happy parts? It felt like she was here. 
Now I'm off to get ready for work. There is an AED training today...I think those are the right initials. I have no idea, really. I do know that I have all kinds of feels from the latest Lizzie Bennet Diaries (can we just get those two crazy kids together?! Also, I need to see Darcy. Not just hear his voice...grr...) and the coffee is just starting to hit me in the best way possible. It's not spring yet, but I have the window cracked to let some fresh air in the place and it is making me feel kinda happy.