Twelve Days of Christmas

For once, I won't blame my emotional state on being tired and exhausted.

Vulnerability, at times, has its merits.

My family is a Christmas Eve family. In a string of circumstances and various levels of risk-taking, I found myself agreeing to attend Catholic mass with my family on Christmas Eve.

Surprisingly enough, I do not regret this decision. I had been told that the 12 year standoff I had with my family regarding Christmas Eve services was ridiculous. If I could make it to Mass, why wouldn't I go? This is family. And this is Christmas.

And so, I decided to join my immediate family for Christmas Eve Mass, and extend the invitation to the rest of my family. In talking about it with my sister, we came to a few conclusions:

1. We hadn't gone as a family (including my aunts, uncles and cousins) to Christmas Eve Mass in a long time. She had felt the disconnection, too. It just hasn't been the same since we left St. Stephen's.

2. Regarding my time constraints and other external circumstances, it just makes sense to attend St. Stephen's this Christmas.

I was faced with this choice: do I back down on my promise because I am too afraid or do I find the strength to attend Christmas Eve Mass with my family because this is the way I can show them love this year?

My sister asked me if it would be weird. I didn't lie. I told her it would be. I hadn't stepped foot on St. Stephen's ground for 12 Christmases. But maybe it wouldn't be so bad. Maybe enough time had passed where no one will remember who I am and what had happened that it would be possible that I could slip in unnoticed.

I left that conversation with my sister feeling confident and hopeful in my decision. This is family. This is Christmas.

I had admitted earlier in the week that I was tired of feeling isolated and disconnected from my family every Christmas. I want to love them again. I want to experience Christmas with them again. I want to be engaged with them again. And if showing up to Catholic Mass this Christmas Eve is a way to show love and communion with my family, I will do it.

But I must confess, I am afraid.

This overwhelming sense of fear didn't hit me until I was driving back to Tacoma to attend a Christmas party. I am scared to go back to St. Stephen's. I have avoided it for so long--why would I jump back in? I am terrified of this place and what it means to me. And not everyone in my family knows that, let alone understand it.

And yet, I still have hope that in going back, I will be able to reconnect with my family in a way that I have longed and prayed for. Perhaps in the place where I had experienced the deepest moments of betrayal, I would find the strength I never thought I had. Perhaps, this time when I leave, I will not become overwhelmed with grief and pain, but rather, grace and forgiveness.

It has been a long 12 years of being afraid, and I understand it will not wash away in one night. But, if I had learned anything in those 12 years, I stand in the promise that I am not alone.

Emmanuel, God is with us.

A Half Step Away

Sometimes I just get lost.

I'll admit--I've been a bit dark and broody the past couple weeks. I've been sad, heartbroken, discouraged. I've hidden behind my busyness that I've forgotten who I am and why I do the things I do. I've failed in so many ways that I've become afraid of trying. And it's amazing how we can get lost in our misery and lose sight of the hope that will never disappoint us.

Last night, I decided to make an effort to climb out of isolation and make an effort to spend time with my friends. They were baking cookies for our church, so I decided there wouldn't be any harm in spending an hour with them. I planned not to stay very long.

Sometimes the road back is just a half step away.

Just because I had my keyboard in the trunk of my car, I agreed to an impromptu worship time. We sang the songs from the 9 AM set list, some new and old favorites, some hymns. We also learned new songs. And, of course, we sang some Christmas songs.

I've been afraid to play piano and sing as of late, but this was different. This wasn't a prepared set list or just another typical Sunday morning. This was just a group of people who love God, who love spending time with each other, singing songs that mean so much to them because it drew them closer to the God they love and worship.

It's moments like this when I am reminded of who I am and why I do the things I do. It's moments like this that spurs me to try to be more than what I've become. It's moments like this that heal my heart.

Sometimes I get lost.

And sometimes the smallest of steps can turn into a leap of faith.

Anticipating a Major Key

O Come, O Come, Emmanuel and ransom captive Israel.

--Latin Translation by John Mason Neale, 1851.

Lyrically and musically, this is one of my favorite Christmas songs.

Typically, the majority of this music piece is sung in a minor key. However, there is one change at the chorus when "Rejoice!" is sung with a major chord. The true beauty is found in the whole; in the tension between the two parts. The beauty would be lost if either of the parts were missing. The song needs both the mournful anticipation and the joyful resolution.

In midst of darkness, there is hope. While waiting during an seemingly endless time of sorrow, joy is found in a promise that the wait will be over.

Today is the first Sunday of the season of Advent. A few stories came across my path that broke my heart. Some of it was personal, some of it from those close to me, and some came from those I don't know but call the town I share with them "home." It breaks my heart to hear these stories, especially at the beginning of the Christmas season.

My heart is broken over the events of this specific day. There are some things I can't understand. There is despair and pain and sorrow. I can't make sense of it in my mind; I can't make it fit in my heart.

My hope for those going through such hard times is that they find comfort in their family and friends; that they find hope in a promise that it will not always be this way. There will come a time when we will reach the end of this, and we will sing in a different key.

Rejoice with those who rejoice, weep with those who weep.

--Paul, Romans 12:15 (ESV)

Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel shall come to thee, O Israel.

Choosing Tradition

I'm not sure if I am characteristically a traditional person, but as of late, I am fascinated with tradition.

The sociologist part of me could not stop the flooding questions: How do traditions begin? How does one integrate people into their family traditions? What is the process of changing traditions? Why do some traditions stand the test of time and others fade away?

And the very personal part of me had questions of her own, surrounding one basic question: If and when I have a family of my own, how will my holiday and family traditions change?

It's been ten years since I moved to Tacoma. In that process, I have developed my own traditions, a melding of my church family and my own family. I try to honor both families, doing my best to participate and connect with the people that mean the most to me. However, that process has been a long and hard one. I have hurt some feelings whenever I chose one group over the other.

Sometimes those choices don't exclude the other. Thanksgiving, in particular, is one that I am lucky enough to participate with both families--Turkey Bowl with Kristin in the morning, dinner with the Colliers in the afternoon; Thanksgiving dinner with the family in the evening.

My mind has been awhirl over what I think and feel about my life; what is really important to me--including these holiday and family traditions. In whatever way my life changes, one of the things I am looking forward to experiencing is creating family traditions of my own.

Love Like an Ocean

A list could not contain everything for which I am thankful.

But that doesn't mean I won't try. My heart is still an overflow of praise for my God.

O to grace, how great a debtor...

1. Friends. I learn so much from them. They bring me silly joy and peaceful comfort. They remind me of what is truly important. I am not well-versed in expressing affection and gratitude, but truly, I have nothing but pure love for the group of people I am honored to have as friends.

2. Work. Sometimes I can't believe how blessed I am to have my job. I have been given so many opportunities that I am humbled by how much they trust me. I hope that I am a blessing to those I work with. I always wish to serve them well.

3. Family. They are a unique brand of crazy. But I belong to them. They say you can't choose the family you are born into. Even so, for everything I have been through with them, I will always choose to love them. They mean so much to me.

4. Music. I love that it is back in my life again. It took me awhile, but because of a few people who reminded me how much I love it, and for those who give me the opportunity to try, I have an ongoing song in my heart.

5. Grace. There are so many things that have happened this year that would not have happened if not for the grace of God. And when I look at what I have and joyfully anticipate for what is to come, I know that I truly do not deserve any of it. The only reason why I have any of these things I listed above and the things I have treasured in my heart is because God graciously calls me His.

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone. Be blessed.

O my words could not tell, not even in part, of the debt of love that is owed by this thankful heart.

--Matt Redman, "I Will Offer Up My Life"

On Peut Toujours Espérer

In the day of prosperity be joyful, and in the day of adversity consider: God has made the one as well as the other...

--Writer of Ecclesiastes, Ecclesiastes 7:14 (ESV)

Today was difficult. I had a very rough beginning, my mind was plagued with needless worry, and I wasted too much time dwelling on my wounded pride. But those circumstances shouldn't squelch hope. It took me awhile, but when I finally took my lunch hour, I realized that I just needed to stop thinking and I just needed to trust God. Granted, that's not a new perspective, but it's probably going to take me a lifetime to learn.

My plan for today's list was supposed to be hope. However, in light of my day, I thought it would be apropos to make this list about challenges. It would be foolish to try to live life without pain; pain has a purpose. Pain, as much as peace, teaches us to hold onto the hope we have.

1. Change. I feel like this year has been full of changes. My role at church changed this year. I fulfilled a lot of roles at work and I am still transitioning into a new position full of different responsibilities. My friendships have grown in beautiful ways that both humble and bless me. Merely because it is full of the unknown, change terrifies me. And yet, the challenges of change only provided further proof that I can stop worrying because I can trust God. Whatever changes are in the horizon (which may be sooner than I may think) I know it will be good because I have a sovereign God who knows and cares about the details of my life.

2. Family. A year ago, my father was in the hospital for congestive heart failure. Today, he is still alive, and I believe that is by the grace of God. And the grace that sustains him is the same grace that allowed me to look upon who my father is and offer him the grace I had been given. A lot of healing still needs to take place in my heart regarding who my father was, but I've got hope. My sister and brother-in-law will be having a baby, which I hope will bring us closer together. My mom and I finally have an understanding of who we are. Thankfully, we are no longer at odds, and it appears that we are at peace with each other. The rest of my family may not understand or know me, but I believe that the ice is finally melting. I am learning to not hide from them, and as a result, they are starting to see me. And yes, I will always love my grandpa. It took us awhile to get to this place, but it's slowly getting better. I've still got hope.

3. Boundaries. Let's face it: I've got poor boundaries. Sometimes they're too high. Sometimes they're not existent. This year, I've run myself ragged because I had too many things on my proverbial plate. On the same token, I also learned some healthy boundaries and my adherence to those boundaries might have very well saved my life. I may not be good at setting or keeping boundaries, but I'm confident that I'll learn once I remember to keep what is truly important.

Here's what I'm learning about hope. Life isn't always what we had planned. Sometimes it's better. And yes, sometimes it's not. Hoping our circumstances would turn out in a certain way or different than what they are is the surefire way to be unhappy. Regardless of the circumstances, if I believe I can trust God...there is always hope.

On peut toujours esperer.

Why are you cast down, O my soul; and why are you in turmoil within me? Hope in God; for I shall again praise him, my salvation and my God.

--David, Psalm 42:5-6 (ESV)

Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up.

--Paul, Galatians 6:9 (NIV)

Peace Like a River

Considering my recent desire to find rest, I thought it may be appropriate for today's offering for the Thanksgiving List to be...

What Calms Me...

1. A cup of hot chocolate and a rainy day. Sometimes a rainy day is what it takes for me to slow down and take stock of what is really important. I also must admit, hot chocolate is delicious and beats a cup of coffee on certain days.

2. Long car rides. You can find out a lot about yourself. And if you're lucky enough to have someone to drive with you, you can find out a lot about someone else. It is always worth it.

3. Beethoven and Chopin. One is dark and broody. The other is lyrical and expressive. Both write music that is just beautiful.

4. Yo-Yo Ma. He rocks.

5. Laughing. Sharing silly stories, retelling an inside joke, and breaking into fits of uncontrollable laughter over nothing provides proof that peace doesn't always have to be experienced with silent solemnity. I cherish the people who make me laugh. Especially the ones that make me laugh over the things that I would typically take too seriously.

Peace and joy, my friends.