Pleasant Surprises and Great Expectations

Yes, everyone does a record of the past year and shares their hopes for the new year. This is my shameless attempt to do the same. :D

And for some reason, it is very link happy. I apologize in advance.

If I could describe my 2009, it would be that God never ceases to pleasantly surprise me.

I hope that continues in 2010.

For the most part, I had made my 2009 about a few things. (Yes, Kristin, Lost is one of them). In those things, I came across a few challenges, but for the most part, a lot of celebration and joy over how God has poured his blessings--even in midst of difficult trials. After coming out of 2008, I was unsure, and mostly anxious, over how 2009 would unfold. I am happy to report that this past year was better than I could have expected or planned.

I love the way you love me, Lord.

Like everyone else, when I look back over 2009, I am amazed at the number of things that have happened the past year. I won't share them all, but since this is a 2009 countdown, I will name a few of the notably pleasant surprises...

1. I rediscovered my love for music and my deeply rooted desire to make it a large part of my life. It started with my friend's choir concert last January, which paved the way for me to start leading worship for the 11am service for my church. I also found the beauty of other people enjoying their own love of music. To round out this return to music year, I also attended my high school choir reunion.

2. For the better part of the year, my faith and my choices on how I practice my faith has gone through some tough trials. I wrestled with my former Catholic faith, read a lot of Rob Bell, and listened to some sermons by Pastors Jon and Rob, and Mark Driscoll. But in the end, I came to realize how grateful I am for the choices I had made because in the end, it brought me closer to the God who loves me. I hope that what I had learned about grace would carry me through next year and for the rest of my life.

3. I am really grateful for my job and the organization for which I work. They provide me with so many opportunities to serve and projects that challenge me. But truly, it is the people that I work with that make all the difference. I absolutely enjoy them. You know who you are. And if you don't, I'll do better to show my deep gratitude.

4. Lost nights. Yes, I enjoy the show, but I truly love the company more. This show also helped me reconnect with my friend Kristin. And I wouldn't trade that for the world. It may be reason enough for me to appreciate Team Locke. Or not.

5. I finally went to Washington DC. I haven't had a chance to detail how it has inspired me, but I still carry the beauty of that city in my heart.

6. I was finally given permission to live the life I had always wanted. Now I'm just waiting for God to show me how that life will unfold.

7. My friends are the best.

True, I still hope for those things I had enjoyed this past year to continue and blossom in 2010. I look forward to the triumphs--and challenges (!)--I will face in music and the joys of relationships with those I love. I anticipate learning how to actually enjoy the life I'm trying to live instead of being afraid of it. I will be thankful for what I have instead of constantly wishing things were different. And I hope my days would not be characterized by my typical dark and broody but by my dance of joy.

Now, I am not foolish enough to believe that I will not experience pain next year. In fact, I expect it. But I also expect that in whatever I go through, my God is with me.

It's more than just a Christmas tradition: Emmanuel, God is with us.

Lord God, I believe you are good and sovereign over every detail of my life. And if I know anything, I know that I can wait in expectation of being pleasantly surprised by your great love.

I love the way you love me, Lord.

Delight yourself in the LORD and he will give you the desires of your heart.

--David, Psalm 37:4 (ESV)

Praise the LORD...who satisfies your desires with good things so that your youth is renewed like the eagle's.

--David, Psalm 103:1...5 (NIV)

Speak--and say the words no one else will ever say. Love--love like the world is over in a day. I'm gonna show you love like you never had before.

--Jars of Clay, "Show You Love"

oh...and Go Team Ben. I'm rooting for you in 2010. Sorry, Kristin, that Lost reference was for me.

Crushed

A joyful heart is good medicine, but a crushed spirit dries up the bones.

--Writer of Proverbs, Proverbs 17:22 (ESV)

I don't exactly remember when, but for at least several weeks now, I had run into a serious bout of depression.

I didn't realize it at first, but yesterday, when I was composing an entry for this blog (an entry, that obviously, I did not post) I came upon this surprising revelation. The list I had complied wasn't so much an inventory of warning signs; it was a blaring signal: Abby, you're depressed.

Yeesh.

I've had moments of being dark and broody, but this was different. I took no interest in anything about which I was passionate. It was coming to the point where it was debilitating. I slept for hours. I had little to no appetite. I was focused on busyness and work. I isolated myself and became disengaged from people.

Maybe now that I have had some time to think--or took the time to think--I was able to find out what had been bothering me. It wasn't easy, but to use a math analogy (!) I had to work the problem. Every problem has a solution; I just had to do the work.

Sidebar: I was a horrible math student, by the way. I wanted the answers to just appear. Logically, I could figure out what the answer should be, but I didn't do the work to actually produce the solution. And when it came to complex problems, I really did not--for the lack of a better term--do the math. There were many math tests that came back with the words, I know you know the answer. But you have to show the work. Sigh.

My heart was crushed. I told everyone I was fine, but really, I was heartbroken at the rush of critiques that came my way. I can live this life that I want to live, I can become this person I believe God wants me to be. My heart is a lot more resilient than I give it credit for.

Failure doesn't always mean defeat.

But first, I have to get out of this dreary cave I'm in and try again.

And that life that is laid out before us is filled with the glorious and the challenging.

--Hal Sparks, Thoughts on Summer

I think I can. I think I can.

--Watty Piper's The Little Engine That Could

Resolve

Dear Heart,

It's all right for you to feel every once in awhile. I promise.

I'll try not to hide in my work, cloak you in busyness, or needlessly avoid what ails you until you burst at the seams just to get my attention. I'll try not to let worry plague you. I wanted to have a life, and we should be able to live it.

I resolve to take better care of you. I resolve to not ignore you when you are broken, disappointed, or wounded. I resolve to feed you with joy, care, and thanksgiving.

There is a heart in this hollow tin chest. And you belong to me. Precious God, may you guard this heart with the presence of your peace.

Love,

Me

Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.

--Paul, Philippians 4:6-7 (ESV)

And reaching out my weary hand I pray that you understand You're the only one who's faithful to me. You're the only one who's faithful to me.

--Jennifer Knapp, Faithful To Me

Delight in Discipline

I'm a little unfocused. I'm easily distracted. I'm waving the procrastinator's banner.

The funny thing is, I'm not on deadline.

I've been trying to dust off my writing skills and give a good attempt at the story I've been trying to write. And all I have to show for what I have accomplished in the past hour is a blinking cursor and a smattering of nonsensical words.

Here's what I'm learning about a creative life: it requires more discipline than what people expect.

When I was in high school, (the good ol' days when I used to play the piano really well. Oh, Dear Talent, how I miss thee!) I had no problem sitting at the piano, going over difficult passages numerous times just to perfect the music piece. Granted, some of those ultra-disciplined practices had to do with the limited time I had to learn a piece ("Why yes, Giles, I can definitely learn this difficult piano accompaniment for the concert tomorrow...").

I'll admit, practicing piano wasn't always a joy. It was a loathsome chore, especially during the earlier years of piano lessons. I couldn't understand how hours of Hanon exercises could help me play the breathtaking classical piano pieces I loved. But if it weren't for those years of disciplined playing, I would not be able to love the piano the way that I do now.

I used to love writing as much as I used to love playing piano. I am a extremely rusty in writing, and it doesn't come as easily as the piano. I'm not as disciplined in this avenue of expression, and therefore, I am apt to swiftly succumb to distractions.

I suppose discipline is the same with a lot of things in life, creative or otherwise. Anything of true worth requires work. However, in my experience, discipline in the things we delight in rarely ever seem like work.

Gratitude

It has been a few years since I've written anything for Christmas Eve.

The last time I had written a play for Christmas Eve came around the time I started this blog. And as I look back at what I had shared on my blog then, I realize that my heart is full of that same gratitude today:

It is because of them, I had something offer that was of some significance. I have so much to share and these people were the ones who had lent their voices. Without them, I would be left with my voice full of silence, a heart full of love, and a head full of words.

Thank you, Denise, Bard, Kyle, and Skyler for lending your voices. You have no idea how much you have blessed me this Christmas. Thank you, Juli, for the opportunity to write something for my church family.

And to the wonderful Discovery Worship Team, thank you for letting me play piano with you. It is always a pleasure to be part of the team...you even let me get away with playing piano while hiding behind the curtain. :D

Points for Effort

Little darling, I feel that ice is slowly melting
Little darling, it seems like years since it's been clear
Here comes the sun, here comes the sun, and I say it's all right

--George Harrison, "Here Comes the Sun"

Keeping up with the theme for the past several days, the circumstances surrounding spending Christmas Eve with my family changed at the last minute.

My family ended up not going to Christmas Eve Mass.

However, I still wanted to make an effort to connect with my family on Christmas Eve. In some ways, it was harder, but I had to try a little. I was still late for dinner, but everyone seemed to understand. I played piano, I hugged them, I laughed out loud, and I played games.

Of course, it wasn't an idyllic moment every second. But when I looked at my family as they gathered in my grandparents' living room, I finally saw what I had been hoping to witness. We were trying. We were hardly perfect at expressing care, compassion, or comfort, but we were making some sort of effort to show love, to be engaged with each other, to connect.

It may not seem like much, but for me, it was enough.

My hope remains for my family that we would continue to make some sort of effort. Sometimes it's not about loving well, or enough, or perfectly. Even when we fail, even when things don't turn out the way that we had hoped or planned, even when the response is silence, in the end, it's still love when we try. One may never know how or when making that effort can make a world of a difference.

Even though I didn't have to endure what I had been preparing for all week, I will never regret that decision to go with them to Christmas Eve Mass.

The ice is slowly melting...and it's all right.

George, you were always my favorite Beatle.

Strength

I am blessed with amazing friends.

The last time I was this terrified, I stayed inside of my house and didn't talk to anyone. My heart was failing, pouring out in tears, and there wasn't anyone to talk to.

This time around, I can say that is definitely not the case.

Today I didn't want to get out of bed. Today I wanted to hide. Today I wanted to give up and choose the easier path.

Thankfully, God reminded me that I have a purpose that will not be thwarted by a memory that I am trying to overcome. I have friends who bring me great joy and I always have a great time with them (thanks for making me get out of the house tonight. Zoolights was cold, but it was worth it). But most of all, I have a God who is the strength of my heart, especially when I feel like my heart is going to give out.

I don't know how it will turn out. I don't know what to expect or how I will feel or react. But of all the things I know, I am holding onto the truth that I am in the tender care of my God.

Whom have I in heaven but you? And there is nothing on earth that I desire besides you. My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever.

--Asaph, Psalm 75:25-26 (ESV)

I love you, O LORD, my strength.

--David, Psalm 18:1 (ESV)

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 can stand on 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.