The Gifts of Christmas

When I was a little girl, I was always really excited about Christmas. On Christmas Eve, I would lay awake in bed listening closely to hear Santa’s sleigh bells. Living in south Texas, we didn’t have a fireplace, but I knew that Santa would come in to the house however he could. We left out milk and sugar cookies for him on the piano bench. In the morning, there would only be a bit of milk left in the glass and just crumbs on the plate, stockings full of fruit and candy along with a special gift from Santa for each of us.

When I was twelve, my grandparents were in a car accident on Christmas Day, while heading to our Christmas evening dinner. Granddaddy died. Ever after that, Christmas always had a bit of a sad touch to it as well. I tried to assuage that sadness by concentrating on the gifts—choosing just the perfect gifts for everyone, and anticipating the gifts I would receive. I found, however, that the feeling of emptiness grew.

As I have reflected on this over the years, I have realized that the gifts don’t really matter to me. I do enjoy seeing others open their gifts. I enjoy their delightedness when I open the ones they gave me. What I appreciate the most is being with those I love—family and close friends—and knowing that in an amazing gift of love God chose to come and live with us in order to bring us life.

So on Christmas morning this year, in the midst of the presents, I will give thanks for my family around me, for my family who lives in other states, for those who I will not see again until the Day of Resurrection, and for friends who fill my life with love. I pray that you may know joy from this gift of God whose love is so full that the Father and the Son and the Spirit all encompass us with ever-flowing grace and mercy.

When My Boat Rides Low

A mentor of mine had a really helpful image to me: I sit in a small boat in water that has mines under the surface. When my boat floats gently on the surface, it doesn’t bump into the mines and all is smooth, but sometimes for whatever reason my boat rides low in the water and tends to bump into the mines which rock my boat and increase the chance of bumping into more mines.

There are days I wake up and don’t know why I feel out of sorts, or maybe I at least vaguely know, but my ability to deal with stress and anxiety is reduced. I tend to be more snappish and pass on my anxiety to others, which increases the volatility in the relationship. Do you know that feeling?

So what do I do? What is my responsibility? I could say to others, “This is how I feel. I should be able to express my feelings. Just deal with it.” Or I could say to myself, “Oo, this is how I am feeling. I need to rein in my words and actions especially today so that I don’t add to the stress and anxiety going around.” And of course, that can be harder to do when my boat is riding low in the water.

Our society has encouraged us to “express ourselves,” not to hold back on giving voice to our emotions, but I don’t see that it has made us any better adjusted. I see anger, frustration and resentment increasing rather than the opposite. It is important to be aware of how we feel, but I don’t believe it is necessary to express all of those feelings aloud, or even silently with actions. I believe it is more important to decide what my guiding principle will be, and stick with it, even when it is difficult. I would say that a good guiding principle is what Jesus said is the second greatest commandment—the first being to love the Lord our God with all our heart, our soul, and our mind—is to love our neighbor as ourself. He didn’t say that this is easy; and it has little to do with feelings or emotions. It is a choice to make so that when my boat rides low and gets rocked by the mines, I have something else to lean on that is more steady and trustworthy than just my feelings and emotions.

What do you think?

The Desert Blooms

Can you imagine it? The desert—the wilderness. No life apparent as far as one can see. Don’t we know that wilderness at times? Haven’t we lived there—where everything is dry and barren? We look for life, for water, always walking to the edge of the next dune, only to find more dryness, more barrenness.

As I think of some of those times in my life, I know the smell of the dryness, the heat—or maybe, it’s that sense of eternal cold, when I will never feel warm again, the feeling that this is what will always be, that there is no way out.

I knew that feeling when I felt so completely alone my first semester in seminary. I knew that feeling during the years when our infertility seemed overwhelming. I have known that feeling during the years of dealing with a son’s rebellion. I know that feeling now in moments when hope seems to fail.

Where are or where have been places in your life that have been dry and barren, where there seems to be no way towards life?

 As you look at this picture, hold the images of those places in your life where hope seems to fail. As we sit or walk in the wilderness, we can hardly imagine anything else, where any hope can shine into the darkness.

And yet, we hear startling words of hope from Isaiah. The same prophet who has spent chapter after chapter telling of the devastation that is coming, painting images of barren wilderness, suddenly offers the people, and us, a new image—the dessert blooms--

a desert that rejoices with life. He tells us that the deaf will hear, the blind will see, the lame shall not just walk, but shall leap like a deer. The burning sand will become like a pool of refreshing water. The trackless wastes will be transformed into a highway, a holy way for God’s people.

We hear this not only from Isaiah, but also from Matthew. John the Baptist sits in prison, and hears of Jesus. He sends a question: are you he—the one for whom we wait, or do we have to keep waiting? Jesus sends this word back: "Go and tell John what you hear and see: the blind receive their sight, the lame walk, the lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the poor have good news brought to them.” Almost the very words of Isaiah. The desert shall be transformed. The dry barren wastes will blossom with hope and life.

And it is still happening today. As we move on through Advent, this season of preparation, we hear refrains of hope where there was none. Mary in anticipation sings:

“My soul magnifies the Lord, and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior, for he has looked with favor on the lowliness of his servant. Surely, from now on all generations will call me blessed; for the Mighty One has done great things for me, and holy is his name. His mercy is for those who fear him from generation to generation. He has shown strength with his arm; he has scattered the proud in the thoughts of their hearts. He has brought down the powerful from their thrones, and lifted up the lowly; he has filled the hungry with good things, and sent the rich away empty. He has helped his servant Israel, in remembrance of his mercy, according to the promise he made to our ancestors, to Abraham and to his descendants forever.”

The barrenness of the desert gives way as God turns everything upside down. Springs gush forth in the wilderness. The lowly are lifted up. The blind see. The lame walk. The hopeless dare to hope. The highway of our God becomes our way where we had seen none.

Can you imagine it? The desert—the wilderness—blossoming with life as far as we can see. Do we have eyes to see? Do we have ears to hear of the deeds of our God? Do we have hearts to expect it? Do we have lips to speak the good news?

Wait for it, James says. Be patient and wait so that we can see that the coming of the Lord is near. See… Do you see how God comes even into the desert? Do you see how the waters of our God flow in the wilderness? Look. Listen. 

Isaiah 35:1-10

Matthew 11:2-11

A Guiding Principle

  I have tended for years to act almost as a human pretzel, bending myself constantly in order to accommodate others. Now in terms of hospitality, and making room for the stranger, flexibility is a good thing, but I have learned that in other situations, especially chronic ones, it leads to anger.

  While saying "no" when in all actuality a "yes" is not impossible may feel bad, a little too self-centered, I have been developing a guiding principle along the lines of this: “your lack of planning does not become "my" emergency.”

  For years, I have stepped in to prevent failure by my boys, and others. I have discovered that this is not helpful, and in fact over time is actually harmful--to them, and to me. So this morning when my younger son was working to finish up a project for class today, I helped by making his lunch (his job), but when he realized that some things were not going to be finished in time, he said, "unless you could take me to school." And I said, "no." This is not an unwieldy project that cannot be carried on the bus. This was not something that he did not know about until the last minute. He has known and he has been working on it, but not as diligently as needed. So we rolled up the poster board and secured it with rubber bands for the bus trip. My guess is that he has done enough work to turn it in, and maybe will have the opportunity to fine-tune it during the day even. I will gladly take him to school when a project is larger than can be carried on the bus, especially with prior planning. Could I have taken him? Yes, it was not impossible, but this way he is learning that he needs to get his own work done in the proper time and not rely on others to carry him through.

  Yesterday morning, I gave my older son a ride to the Metro to get to his job. As we pulled up, he said, "oh, there goes my train." Unsaid, but still conveyed was a question about me taking him all the way to work. My answer was, "oh, too bad." In reality another train comes in 10 minutes. Could I have taken him to work? Well, it wasn't impossible though it was highly inconvenient, but if I continue to step into the gap, he is not going to learn to be responsible and accountable for his own actions.

  Believe it or not, this has been difficult work for me. It's not about only doing things when they are convenient for me, or don't cause me stress. It's about helping my boys and myself take responsibility for our own actions.

  What guiding principles help you when faced with difficult situations?

Irritations

Have you ever found yourself wondering why other people get so steamed so easily that they honk at the car in front of them right at the moment the light turns green? The other day Jen and I went to lunch to talk about planning for church. On the way, a driver (of a Honda Civic, I’m mortified to say) honked at everyone almost all the way. A van turned into the street to make a u-turn, another mini-van followed so closely that the u-turn could not be easily accomplished. Our lane was effectively blocked, and the Civic driver kept honking—as if that would really help the matter. As soon as the lane cleared, the driver zigged and zagged around cars—and actually made it to the light at Seven Corners just ahead of us, which made me smile in self-righteous piety.

It’s easy for me to scoff at the absurd behavior, until I get to see it in myself. Andrew drove my car last night for an errand. This morning, I opened the door to find my seat moved all the way back, and leaning as far possible. At first, I found it irritating because I would have to reset everything to be right for me, but then I heard a car horn honking at another driver at the light, I suddenly saw how even this small irritation is a part of the same continuum as those drivers. I remembered the childhood lesson that anytime I point my finger at someone, there are three other fingers pointing back at me.

Oh, to pause, take a deep breath, and let it out releasing the silly irritations that get to me so that I can find the joy that God finds in those who irritate me. And in this joy may I find expectant waiting this Advent season.

Romans 12:3

For by the grace given to me I say to everyone among you not to think of yourself more highly than you ought to think, but to think with sober judgment, each according to the measure of faith that God has assigned.