Always found

After Christmas confession:

This has been the worst Christmas for me ever.  It's now over so I hope it's safe to say that.  My favorite part of the season was the  Shabba-Chanukah party we attended Friday night.  Does that tell you anything?

Christmas Eve day, I tried desperately to keep it together while taking care of my last minute wrapping and keeping the kids entertained but clean and ready for service.  I was painting a smile on my face but when I realized that six gifts had gone missing(?) I lost it. Not in front of the kids, but alone, the tears came.

And I started thinking.  Maybe, there were tears that Mary cried on the day before Jesus was born.  Or in the months leading up to.  She would have been hormonal, right?  And stressed even.  She was pregnant with God's son. Not Joseph's.  They were journeying far.  And they arrive at their destination only to find 'No room at the inns.'  Maybe she broke down a little.  So, perhaps, waiting for Jesus, it's okay to cry under the pressure, wanting so badly the relief of his arrival.

And then I thought some more.  I remembered the song 'The Little Drummer Boy'.  And I prayed that me letting the kids make gingerbread cookies and ornaments would be enough for Jesus. He knew my heart wasn't in it this year.  But I did what I could.  I gave what very little I possessed.

And then I found the presents.  And we made it to church.  And that was beautiful.  We ate Chinese food and read a Christmas story before bed and all in all it turned out okay.

Christmas morning, I tried to keep things jolly as well.  We opened presents, and messed the house royally with polly pocket shoes, puzzle pieces, and play-do and at noon when the kids left, I again let the tears come.

But it's okay.  Jesus is here.

We never did find the thumbnail Jesus from our nativity.  And the last few weeks, every store I've been in I've looked for a replacement nativity....with no luck.   I found one finally, on Saturday.  So I bought it.  It's still in its packaging to save it from the three year old's violent hands but I may just open it and take out baby Jesus.... to hold Him, to remind me that He can always be found.


submitting at Playdates with God

Dwell in the source

December has felt a little mooney, a bit blah.

In fact, I can't quite believe we're this close to Christmas.

Circumstances in my life have shifted considerably and I'm already feeling the 'after Christmas blues'.  Maybe, because November, in many ways was very special. In other ways it was very rough, but within that difficulty I could really hear God. And I'm not hearing Him as well this month.

Last night, a friend and I were talking and she said that she prays and she does her readings but one thing she just can't get is the meditation part.  Meaning, her mind continues to wander whenever she attempts. I almost had to laugh, because she said it as though, she were one of the only ones with this problem.  I told her that I was fairly certain most people had this problem. I'm reading Letters of the Scattered Brotherhood right now and it's a treasure of a book. It speaks quite a bit on going into the silence, hushing the outer man.  If the Desert Fathers recognized the difficulty in meditating, certainly, we in our busy lives will find it near impossible.  But I think that the more we practice, the more we discipline ourselves, we will find that God is waiting to meet with us in the silence.

This section really spoke to me.  This is something I am certainly in need of practicing:

"May I say here that the mind cannot remember easily when it is full of criticism; you cannot afford to take umbrage, to have prejudices, nor hold to yourself these violent human emotions which flare up in human contacts.  Let them go and dwell in the source of all love, infinite love"

The only way I have managed at all during this time is to pray for those I resent.  To try to stay above the human drama and enter instead into the drama of Christ's love for me.  The drama of His birth, His death, and  enter, too, into my own dying to self for Him.

".....Prepare yourselves to be sons of God, rise to your full height and live most of your life in spirit while in the material world....The discipline of the body and the spirit is an exercise as old as time.  The conflict of body and spirit, joy and sorrow, has been an accompanying mystery;"


I am practicing this picture of my inner man rising above. Staying above with the peace that surpasses all understanding.  I heard a suggestion recently to breathe in with the thought, 'I am' and out with the thought, 'Peace'.

"I will give you a talisman to use in times of pressure, of drabness, of temptation.  Say, 'There is no measured time at this place, no future, neither is there a past.  I am in the eternal moment, the limitless, infinite, now.'"


Furthermore, I am in today.  Today only.  Only God know what tomorrow holds, so here and now, I am able to trust.



submitting at Playdates with God

This Christmas

I'm not especially looking forward to Christmas this year.  In fact, the past few holiday seasons have lacked their usual sparkle.

It's the commercialism, the greed, the way that as an adult I'm forced to see how retailers have hijacked that which ought to be reverent, special and holy.

But climbing atop a soap box doesn't help.  All I can manage to do in any given day in any given situation is look inward.  Where do I fall on the spectrum of greed and buying into commercialism.  I'm sorry to say, I have a long way to go.  And maybe what I hate is what's inside of me.

I do know that over the years, I have been given a holy ache.  I have understood a little the word compassion.  I have felt urged to sacrifice because I have so much. And I feel it's not enough.  But I know God takes my little.  He sees it.

Last year, my husband and I bought chickens through the Compassion program rather than exchange gifts.  It was not much.  But it was a place to start.

This year, we chose to sponsor a child through Compassion.

And still....

Still, I find myself this month, shopping madly to fill all my American aches.  I fill not my Godly ache.  I justify my shopping sprees by telling myself that I so often go without. How is this true?  All my needs are met.  All.  And there are so many who lack basic necessities.

An Africa Drought Survival Kit costs $13.  Same price as a video game on sale.

Food Baskets for Survival are $40. Twenty dollars more will buy a holiday food basket from Amazon complete with Camembert cheese, crackers, sweet butter and cookies, decorated with poinsettias.

$100 through Compassion buys a cow to give milk and food,  things I take for granted, things which too often go to waste. This is half of what a leather jacket would cost.

I write these comparisons down to convict myself.  To remind myself of the luxury I live in, which I'm blessed to be able to afford.

But as God has blessed me, might I now bless others.

Yikes

This is a little pathetic.  It's a picture for Flashback Friday and it was taken Christmas 2007. First house in Boone, Iowa.  Only three children.  It feels like a lifetime ago.

It makes me chuckle, this picture.  How the tree is dwarfed by the presents.  The presents. How far we've come in so many ways.

I can assure you that our Christmas this year will not look like this.  For many reasons.

I have moved slowly but surely from the commercialism since that time in my life.  I don't want to teach my children that this is what Christmas is all about.

Funny how God moves us.  Forward.

Finding Jesus (Always)

I have a Nativity which I've had since I was a little girl. It is nothing special but I love it. It brings back childhood memories. Every year I display it somewhere accessible. I want the kids to be able to play with it, touch it like I did when I was young. Every year something gets broke and we have to super glue it back together. This year, it was one of the wise men. His hands holding his gift broke off and he is waiting repair in the kitchen. And every year Baby Jesus goes missing, sometimes more than once. He is small, smaller than my thumb. But he's always found.
I was thinking how metaphorical this feels for me right now. Every year, I have to consciously look for Jesus. It seems that though this holiday is supposed to be about Him, He is easily lost. It seems that each year, I feel less in the spirit. This year has been very hard. I've felt very convicted about the commercialism of the holiday. And the money spent on my family when we really don't need anything. Brett and I decided not to exchange gifts. We spent that money we would have used for ourselves to buy chickens and rabbits through the Gospel for Asia catalog. But still. I still feel empty. Shopping isn't as fun as it has been in years passed. I feel burdened and heavy with other's pain.
But I think this is where I'm supposed to be. Maybe Christmas isn't merry. Maybe it's an ache for Jesus and we feel it all the more this time of year. It becomes more evident, our need for Him when we're surrounded by the carols, the shopping, the giftwrap, that there's so much more. That we have drowned out his voice. Everyday I need to look for Him in the chaos. Remember that without Him there is not a Christmas or a nativity. Mary and Joseph, the remaining wise men, right now, on my piano, they are all looking off in different directions as if even they, ceramic, know there is something missing. They yearn. Why are they there if not for him?
He is somewhere here. I have to find him.

12/5/11

In response to Mama's Losin It Prompt: Blast from the past


Wow.  It's been quite the year.  Last Christmas we were still in cold country.  We were still.... a lot of things that we no longer seem to be.

And still, I am looking for Jesus.

Somewhere before our move to Phoenix, I found baby Jesus from that old nativity set.  I put him in my pocket.  Maybe not the smartest move but it seemed like a good idea at the time. I thought that from there, I had placed him in my jewelry box for safe keeping but alas, he is again not to be found. And so as we were setting up the nativity this year, I explained to my kids that the baby was missing once again.  Well, lo and behold, a few days later they found a replacement baby Jesus from a box with a different nativity.

So that one lasted a couple of hours.

The two little ones fought over him (yes, over Jesus) and he broke.  Baby Jesus is in two pieces. Wow, even that is symbolic isn't it? He is the bread, broken.

And, too, Joseph's head is off as are some of the wise men.  Thank the Lord for super glue.  But even that might mean something, as anyone involved in the birth of Christ had to be broken enough to receive him, to submit to His will, His glorious plan.

And this season, I am broken.  I am still searching for Jesus. Advent has a very personal meaning this year. This waiting on Him.   Maybe Christmas isn't merry. Maybe it's an ache for Jesus and we feel it all the more this time of year....Mary and Joseph, the remaining wise men, right now... they are all looking off in different directions as if even they, ceramic, know there is something missing. They yearn. Why are they there if not for him? 


This year I feel so much is missing.  Might I remember that Jesus is who I'm really looking for, who I'm to yearn for. The ache I feel can be relieved by Him alone.

Mary's Song:


 And Mary said:

   “My soul glorifies the Lord
 ⁴⁷ and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior,
⁴⁸ for he has been mindful
   of the humble state of his servant.
From now on all generations will call me blessed,
 ⁴⁹ for the Mighty One has done great things for me—
   holy is his name.
⁵⁰ His mercy extends to those who fear him,
   from generation to generation.
⁵¹ He has performed mighty deeds with his arm;
   he has scattered those who are proud in their inmost thoughts.
⁵² He has brought down rulers from their thrones
   but has lifted up the humble.
⁵³ He has filled the hungry with good things
   but has sent the rich away empty.
⁵⁴ He has helped his servant Israel,
   remembering to be merciful
⁵⁵ to Abraham and his descendants forever,
   even as he said to our fathers.” -Luke 1:46-55