Holiday Spirit

If you are gaga about Christmas, you might not want to read this. You've been warned. But then, if you are gaga about Christmas, you might have some words of wisdom for me.

I'm not big on Christmas. No, I don't think that makes me Scrooge. Actually, I'm fine with everyone else being all Christmas. Generally, I try not to tear it down. I listen to people who are all excited, but I generally try to refrain from commenting. (Yes, this is an exception!)

I just think that the holidays are hard for a lot of people:

• Maybe there is a loss associated with the holiday
• Maybe they are lonely
• Maybe it causes a lot of financial stress
• Maybe they work retail where the holiday spirit is really more like a feeding frenzy and you ask someone if they want to donate to the holiday book drive and you get snarled at. (Not that anything like that has ever happened to me!)
• Maybe people are far away from family
• Maybe 100% Christmas music (30 different renditions of Jingle Bells in one day) just grates.
• Maybe all the activity makes someone dizzy
• Maybe things get lost in the shuffle
• It could be any number of things
  

I wish I loved the holiday season. I really do. I'd love to be swept away by it. But then, I don't really get swept away by much.

I struggle with the holiday season, but I do love the meaning of it. I love the word Emmanuel, God with us. I learned once that literally it means that God pitched His tent among us. I love that idea. He made His home with us.

And I love that Jesus came in the dark of night. I love that His birth ended 400 years of relative silence from when the Old Testament ends and Jesus is born. I love that Jesus was born in a manger. Some of it is nostalgia from my horse riding days. I know that stables are smelly places, but there is a warmth there too. In terms of the big picture, a stable was a place where even shepherds could go unimpeded. Jesus came to the common man, not just the rich or the kings.

Mostly, I love what I imagine would have been a pause among all creation, when Jesus struggled into the world, and let out that first cry, and then was snuggled close. I love that Jesus knew comfort that way. I love that in the prodigal son, the father ran to hug his son. And though the cross was cruel, I love that Jesus chose to throw open his arms for all eternity because he wants to gather us close and never let go.

I struggle with the holidays for lots of reasons. But I love the meaning behind it. So, I'm praying that the peace of being held close to Jesus would prevail over the chaos and even the anxiety I am already beginning to feel.

Not the Why but the Who

Katy, my older cat, loves to sleep next to me. I lie on my side and hold the blanket up and she curls up next to my tummy as I let the blankets gently cover her. Often, I can't hear her purr, but as I rub her belly I can feel the vibrations, the contentment. It's a soothing ritual the two of us have developed.

Often times I have difficulty finding that kind of contentment. I think it is because I am driven to know the why of things. I like to know why it works and why you don't do it this other way. I like to know why things need to be this way rather than that way. I don't know that I actually pestered my parents so much with the questions. (I would have gotten immediate consequences if I had not had immediate obedience.) But, to the extent I was able, there was a quest for "Why?"

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If I Had Only Known

Sometimes, others have already said it so much better than we ever could that it seems necessary to borrow their words. Carolyn Arends is a Christian singer/song writer. This song sums up the end of things with Bill for me. Here is a snippet of it:

If I had known only known

That you'd be leaving here so soon

I would not have been so flippant

When I offered you the moon.

I would pull my chair up closer

To the railing of your bed

Chosen much more carefully

The words I said

I would ask you for your stories

I would tell you mine

I would give you much more credit

I would take more of your time

There's so much I left unspoken

If you were here right now

Oh, I would love you out loud

Carolyn Arends

Love You Out Loud

Album: This Much I Understand

If I had only known:

• I would have held your hand more often
• I would have called you more just to say "Hello" even if we would be seeing each other in just a few hours.
• I would have laughed when you tried to tame my crazy kitty Katy into coming to you no matter how late it made us for dinner
• I would have pressed to meet your family sooner
• I would have let you help me with more things instead of trying to be independent
• I would have snuggled more
• I would have told you more about my thoughts and feelings. Oh, it wasn't that you didn't it ask but just that I am not a natural talker.
• I would have made you more cookies and peanut butter pie.

If I had only known that you'd be leaving here so soon, I would not have been so shy. I would have loved you out loud.

If you were here right now:

• I'd let you help with flowers for the yard
• I'd actually cook for you
• I'd tell you how hard it was to have you go so suddenly
• I'd laugh with you about Mali's antics. She would have you wrapped around that tiny paw.
• I'd let you comfort me on some of the strange turns my life has taken
• I'd tell you about the book I hope to write
• I'd drive you crazy holding your hand
• I'd laugh more
• I'd smile more
• I'd be the one to try and sneak the kiss
• I'd count every second as a treasure

And, yes, I would love you out loud . . . .

---

Bill died April 23, 2007 from an aortic aneurysm. We had met at church. Our first date almost turned into a group outing. I was standing with Emily when he approached me and asked about a concert in Peoria that night. Assuming he meant a group outing, I turned to Emily and asked her if that sounded like fun. He graciously said that more people would be fine. But Emily caught on more quickly than I did and she declined.

When he picked me up he noticed that I didn't put the garage door down. I explained that it was broken and I had no clue what to do with it. The next day he came by to fix it for me. I was making cookies, so he stayed for some . . . .

He fixed that sill garage door 3 times! Third time was the charm. It hasn't broken since.

But I suppose instead, it's my heart that got broken to have him leave so suddenly. It's been a year and I still remember. It's been a year that was really hard in places, but my heart is healing. I'm making it through.

Bill brought me laughter and a feeling of connection that before I had only ever dreamed could happen. Without Bill I might have given up that the connection even really existed. While it hurt to say a sudden "Goodbye," there is hope in knowing that mystical connection is fact not fiction and even I can dare to reach out for it.

On Finding Flowers

It's just begun to get warm in central Illinois -- just jacket kind of weather. The grass is still mostly that dead brownish-yellow of winter. So, a few days ago I was surprised to notice what looked like a couple purple flowers in the middle of my yard. I didn't have time to go investigate, but I've noticed them the last few days as I've whizzed this way and that.



It's also been a rocky week emotionally. Mostly, it is because I took a risk earlier in the week in a family relationship. I had actually gone back and forth for over a month about if asking this particular thing of this person was "wise" or not. On one hand, I knew it would sting emotionally if it didn't turn out the way I hoped. On the other hand, I thought that if I didn't try, didn't ask, I would always wonder. In reality, I would be shutting the door as surely as the "No" I feared.



With a prayer, I sent my request via email. I tried to think through all the things that might be a hindrance and addressed them upfront. That was Monday. I waited all day and then on Tuesday and Wednesday. Finally, I got the response Thursday late afternoon. It was what I had feared -- a "No."



Part of me says, "At least I tried." The other part of me says, "But it hurts!" I've batted it all back and forth all weekend. And as I drove home from church, I found it creeping in again.



As I came out of the garage, my attention turned back to those flowers. I went over to have a peek. They were indeed purple flowers, but to my dismay, they were plastic. Fakes. Finding flowers when you least expect it seems fun. Finding fake flowers, well it's just a bit of a bummer!



This afternoon I had a shift at the bookstore. A woman walked up. She was wearing glasses. The skin above her glasses and eyes was all red. I was about to comment, "It looks like you got a bit of sun on your face." Luckily, God stilled my tongue. And she began, "I know you probably don't take returns, . . ." I tried to say that we did, but she pressed on. "But there are extenuating circumstances." I pulled a book on multiple pregnancies from the crumpled sack. "I miscarried yesterday," she said. The redness was not from sun but tears.



My manager was standing right there at the time. We both assured her we would take it back. But she wanted to look at something else perhaps about miscarriage but she hesitated too. My manager took her to the right section and helped her find a book, . . . .



It just puts it all in perspective. Does the response I got still hurt? Yes. But I cannot imagine losing a child or perhaps more than one at once.



And as for the flowers I took as an affront upon finding they were fake . . . . Well, no one put those there to fool me. In fact, the idea of there being purple flowers there was kind of fun and an encouraging sign of spring -- of things yet to come. They added a dash of color to a dreary landscape. Even if they were not real, I can be thankful for that and the reminder that spring and summer and real purple flowers are coming.