Christmas

Ahhh . . . Christmas.  That wonderful time of the year, where families gather, dreams are fulfilled, and magic happens.  The perfect gifts are exchanged, the memories are priceless, and every picture tells a beautiful story.

Whatever.

One thing I'm learning this Christmas, more than ever before?  It's a marketing ploy.  It's a fictional creation of Madison Avenue.  Most of what we do for Christmas, the traditions and important rituals, aren't meaningful to Christmas at all.  They've been derived from old movies, stories and Norman Rockwell pictures. 

We had a family Christmas today.  No chestnuts were roasted - I don't even know what chestnuts are!  There was no roaring fire - I don't have a fireplace.  I didn't bake a huge ham or turkey - we had lasagna.  We didn't sing carols or even read the Christmas story.  (Oops.  Good job, Pastor.)  

We talked.  We ate.  We played.  We ate.  We watched football.  We ate.  We talked again.  And oh yeah, we opened presents.  We watched each other open one gift each, and we ooo'ed and ahh'ed.  Then we just went for it.

And we laughed.  We laughed and laughed and laughed. 

We played jokes on each other, or tried to.  (Yes, I encouraged my child to draw with a Sharpie on his sleeping uncle's glasses.  What of it?  And yes, when the phone rang, I let this same child answer it, saying, "Buddy the Elf, what's your favorite color?)  We spent time with family we haven't seen for awhile.  And it was great.  I truly had a great time.

It didn't look like a Christmas postcard or a Hallmark special or "It's a Wonderful Life."  It looked like our life.  It was joyful.  And that's Christmas.  Joy began in a manger, in a new little family who had nothing but each other, and God. 

That's us.  And I like it. 

We still have two Christmases to go.  This year, Christmas Day is going to be just the three of us.  At first I was a little sad about that.  But now I'm thinking . . . if Christmas can begin with a family of three, I think I can be content with that. 

That's us.  And I like it.

Merry Christmas!

Today I Will Be Different

I go through stages in my life.  Cycles, if you will.  There is one stage that continues to rear its ugly head.  I never quite overcome it or get through it.  I can put it to the side, try to forget about it for awhile, but somehow, some way, it always comes back.  And I struggle through it again.

It's a stage of self-destruction.  Of self-loathing, almost.  It's a stage of thinking, thinking, thinking of myself.  Not in a big-headed way.  Actually, almost the opposite.  But still, it's a self-centered thing.  It is a stage where I wallow.  I think of myself, of my faults and weaknesses, incessantly.  I have a hard time getting to the other side of it.

Every morning, I wake up and I think, today I will be different.  Today I will think differently.  I will act differently.  I will BE different.

It's not long before I realize that today is just like every other day.  I still bit my kid's head off.  I still was lazy.  I still accomplished nothing.  I still ate too much.  Drank too much diet pop.  Spent too much time on Pinterest.

And I get so frustrated with myself.  I mean, SO frustrated.  That loathing I mentioned earlier?  Oh yeah.  That's the word.  And so I go to bed, and I think, tomorrow I will be different.  And in the morning I wake up and I think, today's the day.  Today I will be different.

And the cycle begins again.  Aristotle said, "We are what we continually do.  Excellence, then, is not an act, but a habit."  I read things like that, and I think, crap!  I have no hope!  Because my habits are horrible! 

So tonight I was thinking about all this (notice that I am clearly in that self-centered stage right now) and I wondered two things:  what would happen if I just quit trying to be different?  And, what if I'm just different right now?

As a Christian, what would happen if I just quit trying to be what I think I'm supposed to be, and literally, moment-by-moment, with a fervent zeal and all-encompassing passion - turn to God?  What if I ask him what to wear, what to eat, what to do?  What if I just admit that I am weak and stupid and honestly cannot handle my own life?  What if I just run to him like a little child, confessing my faults and weaknesses and self-loathing and self-hatred and just bawl like the stinking baby that I am?

Or . . .

What if I took the attitude that I'm not going to be different all day . . . but just for this moment.  What if I just go slowly, take a deep breath, realize that not every sensation has to be experienced right now.  What if I realized that I can stop myself from biting at my loved ones but I can't take it back once it's done?  Or how about if I realized that chocolate will still taste like chocolate tomorrow?  Or what if I remember that Pinterest, for all its inspiration, just makes me feel frustrated?  What if I take all of those individual moments and just respond differently . . . once?  By turning over my choices and my actions and my habits to God?  Moment by moment.

Clearly, either reaction to my life takes me in the same direction - to my maker and my creator.  But doing the same thing - going through this same self-destructive cycle - simply has me running in circles. 

So can I combine these two thoughts?  Can I resolve to stop trying, and at the same time, turn each moment into a God sighting? 

This is me being raw, completely transparent:  I don't know if I can do it.  I'm so deeply ingrained in the self cycle that I don't know if I can stop.  But I do know this:  putting it out there is a good first step.  Inviting God to be the impetus is good.  Narrowing my focus to Him and not to me - that works. 

But for how long?

Because that's the real thing, right?  We take on new habits, resolutions - especially this time of year.  We resolve to eat right, exercise, love our neighbor, give more.  But in a few weeks . . . here comes the old us again.

Maybe I am the only one who does this.   I have a feeling that I am not, but even if I am, that's ok.  I'm putting it out there.  I'm taking a step. 

Maybe the battle isn't won in big leaps and bounds, but in one small step.  One step at a time.

Breathing Room

Merry Christmas!  It seems like forever since I've posted.  Life has overwhelmed me with it's busyness.  Today, I had an unexpected break:  a breakfast I had planned had to be postponed due to the weather.  So ... I. Did. Nothing. 

Ahhhhh . . .

Ahhhhh . . .

Every year, I put myself through the same thing.  I can't just "decorate" for Christmas.  I have to DECORATE.  I don't have decorations that are already put together; a centerpiece for a table, a pre-made tree, etc.  No, no - I have to create it all.  It's different every year.

Every year I focus so much on the decorations I wonder if I'm wasting my time.
Every year I focus so much on the external that by the end of the season I have ... internal injuries.
Every year.  Every. Single. Year.

I usually begin planning my Christmas in September.  I write and rewrite lists, ideas, dreams.  I start bugging my husband about projects.  And none of this has anything to do with gifts - it's all about the house!

This year, I didn't have the time.  Taking two classes this fall, serving in ministry, being a wife and a mom - I just didn't have the time or energy to do the preparation.   Fast forward to Thanksgiving weekend.  My son, who usually loves all the decorating and tradition, dumped me for Grandma's house.  (Can you imagine??)  I pulled up my decorations from the basement, and I just couldn't make any decisions.  I couldn't make anything work.

Usually, after I get everything decorated, I will say something like, "It looks like Christmas threw up in here."  But this year, it doesn't.  This year, it looks kind of serene. 

This year, it looks kind of perfect.

I just came home a few minutes, say in my reclining chair in the living room, looked around, and exhaled.

Ahhhhh . . .

So this is it.  This is all that's going to happen.  Because you know what?  I'd rather decorate my heart than my home.  I realize I've taken pride - the wrong kind of pride - in how I decorate for Christmas.  I want my home to be a tool, a vehicle God can use to reach others.  And I'm pretty sure my great big God can do that whether it's perfectly decorated or not.  Even with some dust on the table and dirt on the floor.  

So I'm just going to keep exhaling.  Keep reveling in the moment, remembering that all this is about a tiny baby who was born to become a sacrifice, and a King.  My King.

I'm going to keep my heart pointed to Christ, my King.  And not pointed to my house.