Christmas Day

Well, Christmas was anti-climactic, as we reached a high of 84 today and I had to work. We're 21 degrees above normal average for the high, and 29 above for the normal low. It doesn't "feel" like Christmas. I didn't "feel" like Christmas at work today. What did I do? Took my laptop and my stack of Christmas movies to work and played them all day.

Point of conviction today: I really didn't want to work. The Lord was sweet to whisper to my soul, "You were put on this earth to SERVE those who don't celebrate My birth. Show them who I AM with your attitude." WOW. I couldn't really argue with that one.

We just returned from the Christmas Eve service at our church. We are a satellite campus without a building, and we usually meet in a school. As has been tradition since our campus started, our Christmas Eve service was held at Tin Hall, Texas's oldest reception hall. Upon walking into the building for the first time, I realized that it's really an old honky-tonk. (Jesus would have TOTALLY been in the honky-tonk with the folks who didn't think they were better than everyone else.) We were blessed to be a small part of the long (126-year) history of Tin Hall. It will be closing its doors for the last time on December 31.

The service, as all Christmas Eve services, included tradition -- Christmas Hymns, a childrens' presentation of the nativity, and the final carol, "Silent Night" with candles lit and lifted. As we sang, the emotion of the story got to me with the final verse of "Hark the Herald Angels Sing."

Hail the heav'n-born Prince of Peace!
Hail the Son of Righteousness!
Light and life to all He brings
Ris'n with healing in His wings
Mild He lays His glory by
Born that man no more may die
Born to raise the sons of earth
Born to give them second birth

Jesus was born so that I would not be a slave to death. He was born to give me birth of the Spirit (second birth). He came so that I might have a tiny part in the history of the world. For that, I am grateful, to know that I matter to someone because He made it so.

Right brain-Left brain

I have discovered that my right brain has been quelled by the fact that my husband doesn't have one. No, really. He had part of the right half of his brain removed because of a tumor. Almost 30 years ago.

I don't blame him -- not really. God was gracious to reveal to me over the events of the last couple of days (see previous post) that I quit music right before I met hubs. It's NOT HIS FAULT. He might have been a result of that. I love him to my core. I told him tonight that I could live without him, but I certainly didn't want to. I quit when I thought my voice wasn't worth being listened to anymore (AGAIN, NOT HIS FAULT). SERIOUSLY, right before I left for Brasil. I don't really want to get into that for the public right now, so I'll refrain from the full story, but I'm comforted that I didn't lose myself because I chose hubby over my right brain, or creativity.

My left brain and hubby's adapted left brain (logic) work amazingly well together, and we have exchanges that no one would ever get who didn't know us (and sometimes his family doesn't even get our exchanges). My right brain (creativity) has no counterpart in our marriage because he has none, and his left brain (logic) has adapted amazingly well. As a result, I have "settled" for the left brain logical exchanges (which are REALLY A LOT OF FUN) at the expense of the right brain creativity. I have realized that and talked it through (a little) with hubs.

By my own choice (and not knowing how to express it), I have focused on my left brain -- the math, order, logic, administrative part of my brain, and I have stressed a little at the fact that my mind can't stop thinking about the things I have to do. I can make a list, and I thrive on checking things off that list, but my mind still races. What to do to calm the mind but put order to it?

I have discovered another solution. Feel the feels, and write down the thoughts, and play the music and make the adjustments to the knitting patterns and be okay with the imperfect yarn spun from the pretty fiber. I'm a "process" person as opposed to an "execution" person, which stresses the corporate America "me" out. The real me loves it, except for the fact that the firstborn in me wants to finish the process. Or maybe I want to finish the process because of societal pressure to be "responsible." I'm not sure. But that's okay, because I know that there might be a difference. If I want to finish, I want to finish. If it's pressure from outside, I'm not sure I want to finish.

In a single word, the solution is CREATE. I have a guitar that I picked up for the first time in at least 4 years. I have yarn that I've impulsively bought (SO PRETTY!) so that I can create something with it. I have food in my freezer for 6 months that I can use for dinners and leftovers. I have yarn in bins that I can use to create things that I will never use. Before we move, I will finish the unfinished projects and donate them to a shelter, but I have become much more selective in my yarn choices. None of what I have is bad, but the LOGICAL me wins over the CREATIVE me to say that I need to buy what I will make for ME or for friends. I have 4 (soon to be 5) sweater quantities in my stash that are for ME, and ME ALONE. It soothes me to knit for me. That may seem selfish, but it's not. Those projects for me will be finished. That yarn that will not be knit for me will be a waste of money, unless I donate the project.

Hubster drove me clear across town yesterday so we could go to a sold-out concert (Behold the Lamb of God by Andrew Peterson and company) that we didn't even have tickets for because my planning abilities aren't the best. We walked in the door at will-call and begged for any extra tickets they had. They were technically sold out, but since the concert actually tells the story of the gospel, they didn't want to turn anyone away. I haven't seen the show in at least 7 years (not since I've been married) and hubster has never seen it.

I started listening to Andrew Peterson in college, when he first released Carried Along (now out of print but available on iTunes), or maybe when he started touring with Caedmon's Call (not a band anymore but still a band). His lyrics are approachable and deep at the same time, and they have resonated for me personally over the years. Take the song "Hosanna" from the album, "Resurrection Letters, Volume II". We tend to think that "Hosanna" is praises of jubilation to our Lord Jesus, but in other languages (and apparently in the original), it means  "Save us!" or "Savior!" and that is what he sings about in this song. It makes me think that we have no idea what those people in the street were begging for. I always thought that Hosanna in the highest was a phrase of praise to Christ as King, but they didn't know He was THE King. I didn't change my view until I lived in Brasil and read a Bible in Portuguese. The text says "Salvo!" which translates loosely to "Save." Christ came, and he humbled Himself to be a man. Philippians says that He didn't even view equality with God as something to be grasped. As a result, He was granted a name above every name, that every knee should bow, and every tongue confess, that Jesus is Lord. As in, He was the king that was foreshadowed in the Old Testament, who would be King of all Kings. In "Hosanna," Peterson has the verses speak of our struggles with lies and addiction and falling when we should stand. Save us from ourselves, Lord, because we are sinners. Save us from our own care, because Yours is better. Save us from the world, Lord, but do not let us ignore it, because it needs You as much as we do.

Year of Difficulty and Joy

This year has been a hard one. I've lost 30 pounds that I needed to lose, I've seen 2 nieces (one blood-related and one not) born, a brother married, a brother engaged, and I laugh as I realize that I followed the "hard year" with the good things that have happened.

It's been another year of living far away from family. It's been a year of juggling work and home and meds and emotions. It's been a year of numbness until about 2 months ago. There are things that have been hard that are in my control, and there are things that have been out of my control. I like to think I've been good about not stressing about the things that are out of my control, but I haven't been so good about changing those things that I'm in control of. Am I scared of succeeding? Am I resigned to be stagnant? Does the year look hard because I've had a hard week? Or a hard holiday season?

I'm reminding myself (especially lately) that writing is such an outlet for me. It puts thoughts into words and  helps me put things out there "into the universe." If I don't write, my thoughts stay in and stew in their own juices. Writing helps me make sense of things, or at least figure out what might be rational and what might not be. I'm trying to write a little each day, whether it be in my journal or here. Some of what gets into my journal makes it here, some not.

At the end of today, I'm thankful that I have a husband who loves me more than I know, a sturdy roof over my head, plenty of food to eat, and friends who love me if I'll only let them.

I've been listening lately to my favorite Christmas album ever. "Behold the Lamb of God" by Andrew Peterson and other artists. It's an amazing telling of the Christmas story from Creation to the birth of Christ. It includes the Israelites wandering in the wilderness and what Mary's night in the stable must have been like (probably not very silent).

The story itself moves me every time I hear it. Having been to Jerusalem and Bethlehem, the emotions I experience when I listen to the album are overwhelming, again and again. I've been "there." The place where Christ was born. The place where the shepherds saw the angel. The garden of Gethsemane. The Old City where the trial must have been held. The tomb. As they say in Jerusalem, "If it didn't happen exactly here, it was somewhere close." And that's true. Jerusalem and Bethlehem are only 5 miles apart. The wilderness (that Jesus spent 40 days in, right?) is just that. Wilderness. No trees, just grass, hills, and dirt.

God created. His creation sinned. He made a way to be made right with Himself in the Old Testament that foreshadowed the ultimate Way in the New Testament. The Israelites (His people) wandered and lived "without" Him, it seemed, for years. And then a baby came. Just like He said. One who would be the Savior of the world. God had planned this in eternity. And we as His creation are too short-sighted to see it. I am thankful today for the Holy Spirit who gives this insight. I do not know how; it is a mystery, as Paul says.

Ask, even if you don't receive

I have been reminded lately how important it is to simply (or not so simply) ask for what we need, whether it comes to pass or not.

Most days, I have no idea what I need or even want. Yesterday, I had a hard time at work. I was exhausted, on the verge of tears all day, and felt awful. I knew that I couldn't make it until close (it was my LONG day). I kept debating with myself about whether I should call the scheduler or whether I should try to make it until 9:00. At one point, my internal dialogue sounded like this:

"OMG, I can't believe I HAVE to make it until 9:00. I don't think I can, but I have to." (READ: IT'S THE ADULT THING TO DO AND IT'S YOUR JOB.)
"Ummmm, NO. Call H and see if she can find someone to cover."
"But what if she can't find someone?"

Yeah, I called her about 2:30 (after debating internally for HOURS, dang that introspection!), and the mere act of calling to make my need known was empowering. It's like telling her that I wasn't going to make it till 9 made me able to make it till 9 if she couldn't find someone. It's kind of crazy.

I was prompted to write this post not only because I'm proud of myself for stepping up to ask for something yesterday, but because almost 5 years ago, I was reminded by the Father that I could have prayed about something I was worried about. I so often ask for prayers and don't pray myself. I'd like to say it's because I'm in the middle of a crisis/panic attack/etc, but I can't say that in all honesty. I just don't come boldly to the throne of grace like I should, because I'm scared. I'm scared that I'll ask for the wrong things. Like being able to go home from work on a day that I just can't handle being an adult. But then I am blessed by God's grace of being able to do just that.

Father, You know our struggles and our inabilities. You know where we just can't. Sometimes you walk alongside us to give us strength. Sometimes you let us slide so that we can curl up in your lap and recover. Today, I am thankful for both.

Authenticity and comfort

I've been writing in my journal (who knew that journaling wasn't a real word?) a little this evening and came across the frustrating fact that most of what I do day to day feels un-authentic. Then I asked myself, what if I have equated authentic with comfortable? I am extremely uncomfortable in my job; it is WAY out of my comfort zone because I have to be organized, pay attention to detail, talk to people, deal with non-stop interruptions and stupid questions, and generally be nice. While the last one isn't such a far stretch, throw it in with all the others and it might or might not happen. There's a reason that I'm in the other room listening to "Behold the Lamb of God" (favorite Christmas album EVER) with my journal and computer even though hubby has been napping for a few hours (he works 6am-2:30pm). Being away is essential for my well-being, especially given all of the above daily job "duties."

I am uncomfortable with how much I love my husband. I am uncomfortable that salvation and grace are FREE. I am also uncomfortable that the process of refinement is uncomfortable. I am uncomfortable that I'm not good at everything I do.

"Life begins at the end of our comfort zone."  --Neale Donald Walsh

“Life begins at the edge of our comfort zone”

“Life begins at the edge of our comfort zone”

“Life begins at the edge of our comfort zone”