Something New Already...

2011 isn't ending the way in which I would choose. No parties, no friends, no frivolity. But, that really encapsulates some of the hard things of this year, so maybe it is only appropriate that this is the way in which the New Year is ushered in: with feeble quietness from the sick (in body and heart-weary).

I've had some time to reflect on this past year. And, there were many indescribable heartaches, but I can also say without a doubt, that there were many victories. And moreover, in it all, in the midst of the atrocious mire, was Jehovah-Nissi (The Lord is My Banner). And there isn't victory without struggle. But, as I look to step from 2011 to 2012, I recognize my place. I can do nothing on my own accord, in my own power.

And then, staring back at me from a Christmas Starbucks disposable cup that housed hot tea three days prior: When we're together I know I'll never fall. And there is truth in that. Just as Peter floated above the waves when he focused on Jesus, I, too, must fix my eyes on the Author and Perfecter of my faith. I, too, need to let go of the battles in my heart, for My Banner says that He will fight for me if I remain STILL (Ex. 14:14).

And some Roman philosopher (later used in a song by Semisonic) said, "Every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end." So, it is time (well past time in some areas that I have white-knuckled out of fear) for a beginning's end and a new beginning to come.

For me, on this New Year's Eve, I take comfort in knowing that all of my days are hemmed in. I know that I do not have to be afraid to trust an unknown future to a known God (Corrie Ten Boom). I know that I don't need to see the whole staircase to take the first step in faith (MLK Jr). And it's more than just nifty quotes that I adore because in my spirit, I feel the nudging to learn what it means to truly be still. What would that look like to truly live like I knew I couldn't fall? To live without fear because perfect love casts out fear (1 John 4:18)?

As long as I draw grace-breath, there is learning and a newness of each dawn that by miraculous mercy doesn't require the waiting for each new year before another beginning's end. Tomorrow just happens to be the start of a new day and new year! Shalom. xo.

Making room...

Tonight I sat on my couch, sipped hot cider from my favorite owl mug until it turned cold, and listened to Christmas hymns. And I listened to the words. I really listened, then I pleaded for them to abide in my heart, the truth of it all. The holy.

How many times have I sung of the Advent? Of God's ransom and every heart preparing him room only to inadequately prepare my own? Countless nights have past since a star shone high proclaiming with the angels that the Christ-child was born. And what of this Grace born for us and this season?

I think it is easy to get lost in it all. Honestly, whatever family traditions we hold onto, whatever church traditions we covet, whatever we choose to focus on will never replace or augment the miracle. With or without shiny decorations, with or without 50 different varieties of cookies, with or without a tree, with or without presents, with or without fellowship, with or without acknowledgement, Jesus still came. Please don't misinterpret my sentiment here. I don't think there is anything wrong with any of the aforementioned things. I adore all of the wonderful ways in which people celebrate christmastime, but they shouldn't become the main focus.

And in the midst of it all, I long for the real remembering. And I want to make more room for him. I want to live in the awe of the night that was hushed and holy. So, I will make time to be silent before him, and I will attempt to live a life that demonstrates my thankfulness for the only gift I will truly ever need and could never deserve.



Weekend Ponderings

“There is nothing I would not do for those who are really my friends. I have no notion of loving people by halves, it is not my nature.” ~Jane Austen

For those of you who know me, you know that I adore Jane Austen, I am sentimental to a fault, and I love people (even those who aren't so lovable). So, the above quote seemed apropos tonight.

It has been a very abnormal weekend for me. I haven't been feeling well, therefore, I didn't leave the house, Glenn was mostly gone, Jaden spent the night at a friend's house, and Gav was doing his own thing. It was quiet, which is sometimes welcome. But, this felt too quiet. Lonely.

I have a tendency to ponder things at length and become pensive. Don't get me wrong, I think taking time away from our busy schedules is a good thing. Sabbath rest and time for reflection is restorative in light of the hectic lives we lead; It is also completely necessary. But, this weekend I was grumpy. This weekend, I felt alone, disconnected.

I have felt differing degrees of disconnectedness ever since the schism. Trying to figure out relationships post-schism has been challenging to say the least. Some relationships ended abruptly, some faded away slowly, while others remain, although changed. And because I care so much about others (and those who are my friends - my brothers and sisters in Christ - my family), I wonder which ones will fade away. And, it has happened before, hasn't it? It is hard to keep up with people you no longer see consistently. I only have to peruse my Facebook friends to see the names of those I was once close to, but something happened, like a change of job, or church, or move, or whatever.

Earlier I googled "loss of fellowship" and I was caught off guard (convicted) by the results. Instead of showing pages about the loss of fellowship with believers, the results focused on the loss of fellowship with God. Indeed, how have I let all of this affect my relationship with God? Because deep down, although I hate to admit it, I know it has.

So, tonight, I give Him all of my nostalgia-infused heartache, and I remember everything is from Him, even all of the people He has given me to walk with for an appointed time. And, I learn once again to pry open my clenched hand, to not hold on too tightly, and to let go of everything preconceived that is weighing me down.

And, as I close out this quiet evening, I remember the scripture from yesterday from Psalm 68: A father to the fatherless, a defender of widows, is God in his holy dwelling. God sets the lonely in families, he leads forth the prisoners with singing...

Because, sometimes I feel like I'm fatherless, or a widower, or prisoner in this place (this side of his holy dwelling), but I take comfort in knowing that God cares enough to create these surrogate families for us all. And once family, always family, right?