Every January we are inundated with messages of losing weight to prepare our bodies for summer -- as if it's as complicated as training for an Olympic sport instead of simply shedding coats and slipping on shorts. To be considered “ready” we are encouraged to lose weight, pump iron, and color ourselves caramel.
The message is clear. The preparation is all-important. Where you are now is clearly not good enough. You aren’t worthy of summer vacay 𝘶𝘯𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴, 𝘶𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘭, all that urgent striving sculpts you into the picturesque airbrushed model on the magazine cover who hasn’t eaten in three years and works out five hours a day.
I don’t know if it’s more demoralizing or depraved, but many of us buy into this if-then mentality. We do it in an array of scenarios: organizing our house before we can host friends, getting the promotion before we can pride ourselves on a job well done, or securing the relationship before we cement our self-worth. The perception that our arrival is more important than our pursuit is most damaging in our relationships with God. We often think where we are in our spiritual journey defines how much we please him, how much he loves us, and how worthy we are of his mercy.
Like the cover-girl clad in a bikini, we create a Christian ideal of what our faith life is supposed to look like. While intended to inspire us, it can become a deterrent in our relationship with God when we fail to measure up. We think because we don’t participate in bible study, attend daily mass, or volunteer weekly, then God thinks we are the equivalent of a pale slacker who needs to hide under her cover-up. Yet God isn’t about the perfect but the persistent. He loves our trying. He loves that 𝘸𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 even if it doesn’t always translate into, 𝘸𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘥 𝘪𝘵. He loves it when we stay on our spiritual journeys even when we keep taking the wrong path. Too often, we hesitate in our relationships with God because we aren’t where we know we ought to be – where we want to be. We get so focused on getting 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 that we forget that we are loved right 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦. We forget his mercy that covers the gaps. We forget the way he delights in our desire for him. Thomas Merton wrote, in 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘚𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘚𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘺 𝘔𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵𝘢𝘪𝘯, “My Lord God, I have no idea where I am going…But I believe my desire to please you does, in fact, please you…I trust you always though I may seem to be lost…I will not fear for you are ever with me….”
We don’t need to fear that we aren’t where we desire to be in our relationships with God. It is wasted energy that distracts us from the pursuit of our longing. When we get caught up in the idealized version of Christianity, it’s easy to think it’s too hard, life’s too short, and we will never get “there.” We forget that in our humanity, none of us get anywhere without the mercy and grace God gifts us along the path. Our spiritual journeys will no doubt meander, but our willingness to put one foot in front of the other despite the season of our lives is paramount. It won’t always be a day at the beach but it isn’t required to look a certain way either. There is no getting ready, only our getting going -- knowing that every step of the way we are right where we are supposed to be -- pasty skin and all.
𝑯𝒊 𝒂𝒍𝒍~ 𝑰'𝒗𝒆 𝒃𝒆𝒆𝒏 𝒇𝒐𝒄𝒖𝒔𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒚𝒆𝒂𝒓 𝒐𝒏"𝒈𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒎𝒚 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒌 𝒅𝒐𝒏𝒆." 𝑾𝒉𝒊𝒍𝒆 𝑰 𝒂𝒎 𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒅 𝒐𝒇 𝒎𝒚𝒔𝒆𝒍𝒇 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒎𝒚 𝒆𝒇𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒕𝒔 𝒘𝒉𝒊𝒄𝒉 𝒔𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒆𝒔 𝒓𝒆𝒒𝒖𝒊𝒓𝒆 𝒆𝒙𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒔𝒊𝒗𝒆 𝒅𝒊𝒔𝒄𝒊𝒑𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒆𝒙𝒕𝒓𝒂 𝒉𝒆𝒍𝒑𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝒄𝒉𝒐𝒄𝒐𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒆, 𝑰'𝒗𝒆 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒊𝒄𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒚 𝒈𝒆𝒕𝒔 𝒅𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒔𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒆𝒍𝒔𝒆 𝒑𝒐𝒑𝒑𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒖𝒑 𝒊𝒏 𝒊𝒕𝒔 𝒑𝒍𝒂𝒄𝒆. 𝑰𝒕'𝒔 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒂 𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒅 𝑱𝒂𝒄𝒌-𝒊𝒏-𝒕𝒉𝒆-𝒃𝒐𝒙. 𝑺𝒐, 𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒔, 𝑰 𝒏𝒆𝒆𝒅𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒑𝒐𝒔𝒕 𝒂𝒔 𝒎𝒖𝒄𝒉 𝒂𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒚𝒐𝒏𝒆 -- 𝒂 𝒓𝒆𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒍𝒊𝒇𝒆'𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒂𝒃𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒄𝒉𝒆𝒄𝒌𝒆𝒅 𝒃𝒐𝒙𝒆𝒔 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝒂𝒃𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝒎𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕. 𝑬𝒗𝒆𝒏 𝒊𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒎𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝒊𝒔𝒏'𝒕 𝒇𝒆𝒆𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒔𝒐 𝒈𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒕, 𝑰 𝒉𝒐𝒑𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒄𝒂𝒏 𝒇𝒆𝒆𝒍 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝑮𝒐𝒅 𝒊𝒏 𝒊𝒕 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒇𝒊𝒏𝒅 𝒂 𝒘𝒂𝒚 𝒕𝒐 𝒔𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒊𝒕 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒔. 𝑰𝒕 𝒘𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒎𝒂𝒌𝒆 𝒂 𝒅𝒊𝒇𝒇𝒆𝒓𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝒐𝒏 𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒕𝒐-𝒅𝒐 𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝒊𝒕 𝒘𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒎𝒂𝒌𝒆 𝒂 𝒅𝒊𝒇𝒇𝒆𝒓𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒘𝒉𝒐𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒔𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒊𝒕 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉. 𝑰𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒆𝒏𝒅, 𝑰 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒌 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒘𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒎𝒂𝒌𝒆 𝒖𝒔 𝒇𝒆𝒆𝒍 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒂𝒄𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒑𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒉𝒆𝒅. ~𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆, 𝑳𝒂𝒓𝒂 ... See MoreSee Less
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I can’t help but shake that feeling a new year brings that I’m supposed to “do better,” “improve,” or “make it count.” Bold directives that remind me of the anxious anticipation of waiting for my turn in a grade school relay race. Messages that don’t make me want to run as much as they make me want to run away.
In these heady days of a new year, I feel uber-aware of every action, or worse, every inaction. It’s a similar feeling to the relief of confession. I love the clean slate but I also want to lock myself in the house or duct tape my mouth closed so I won’t risk sinning again. Once we delve into the grit and grind of life, both a new year and a clean soul can easily tarnish like the best of intentions.
Only, I’m not a new person despite the change on the calendar. I sat down to work and immediately googled Lab Rescues of Florida. I am not planning on getting another dog in 2021, but somehow the urge to read the personality traits and health history of every adoptable dog was a pressing priority. Likewise, while I intended to work at my desk with ergonomically correct posture this year, I slouched on the couch hovering over the keyboard, spine twisted like a buttery breadstick. By mid-afternoon, I passed my water cup in lieu of the curdle of reheated coffee. None of it felt very ‘new.’
Every year, each family member picks a word to guide or inspire them for the next 365 days. (Last year, my word was 𝘣𝘳𝘢𝘷𝘦. I learned that was like praying for patience and I spent the year facing all kinds of situations that terrified me.) When my husband asked me about my word for this year, I was hesitant. We debated the merits of the words “freedom,” and “embrace.” I was afraid if I chose “freedom,” I would have a slew of rescue dogs living with me by the year’s end.
“Embrace” felt like a better choice. 𝘌𝘮𝘣𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘰𝘱𝘱𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘶𝘯𝘪𝘵𝘺. 𝘌𝘮𝘣𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦. 𝘌𝘮𝘣𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘎𝘰𝘥. 𝘌𝘮𝘣𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦.The possibilities were endless. Yet, somehow all of that 𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘪𝘯𝘨 made me want to curl up into the fetal position and embrace being alone. Finally, I read something out of the Diary of Saint Faustina. It said, “Whatever Jesus did, He did well.” At first, this sounded like one of those emblazoned motivational New Year’s messages that make me feel defeated before I even try. I read on: “He went along, doing good. His manner was full of goodness and mercy. His steps were guided by compassion. Toward his enemies, he showed goodness, kindness, and understanding, and to those in need of help and consolation” (Diary, 1175).
Jesus didn’t aspire to become the “best of,” the “greatest at,” or the “most amazing.” His life wasn’t one of superlatives or self-improvement. It was one of service, of the simplicity, of just “doing good.” He wasn’t trying to outshine anyone. He wanted to let the love of our heavenly father shine 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 him. It is true that whatever Jesus did, he did well. But what is more important is what he prioritized as worth doing well. This was simply 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦. Jesus loved well so we could see how to love well too. That’s an idea that regardless of what intention you make for the year, or what word you choose to guide you, is worth considering. Or, if you are like me, it’s one you’ll want to embrace.
𝑯𝒊 𝒂𝒍𝒍~ 𝑾𝒆 𝒎𝒂𝒅𝒆 𝒊𝒕 𝒕𝒐 2021(𝑰’𝒎 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒗𝒊𝒏𝒄𝒆𝒅 𝒊𝒕’𝒔 𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚 𝒅𝒊𝒇𝒇𝒆𝒓𝒆𝒏𝒕!) 𝑺𝒕𝒊𝒍𝒍, 𝒘𝒆 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒉𝒐𝒑𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝑮𝒐𝒅 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒂𝒍𝒎𝒐𝒔𝒕 𝒂𝒏 𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒓𝒆 𝒚𝒆𝒂𝒓 𝒍𝒆𝒇𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒔𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒍𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒔. 𝑰 𝒑𝒓𝒂𝒚 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒘𝒆 𝒘𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒃𝒆 𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒐𝒍𝒖𝒕𝒆 𝒊𝒏 𝒔𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝑮𝒐𝒅’𝒔 𝒎𝒆𝒓𝒄𝒚 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒘𝒆 𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒚𝒆𝒂𝒓. 𝑰𝒕 𝒊𝒔 𝒔𝒖𝒄𝒉 𝒂 𝒈𝒂𝒎𝒆-𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒓! 𝒘𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘 𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔, 𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒐𝒍𝒖𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔, 𝒐𝒓 𝒉𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒔 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑵𝒆𝒘 𝒀𝒆𝒂𝒓? ~ 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆, 𝑳𝒂𝒓𝒂 ... See MoreSee Less
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I spent my 23rd wedding anniversary golfing (I was actually the cheerleader in the cart listening to an audiobook), bass fishing (freezing in the boat trying to understand why one tries to catch fish they aren't going to eat,) and hiking (which was a solid two hours of listening to my son lie and tell me we were almost back to the car while I whinnied and grunted up steep inclines).
I know it's still early in 2021, but I am going to go ahead and crown myself as wife of the year! ... See MoreSee Less
As a teenager, I often went on long walks at the beach with my best friend. I can’t tell you what we talked about because I’m sure it was inappropriate and since I am of a certain age, I don’t really remember anyway. Going on walks meant we could scout the locations of cute lifeguards we knew or wanted to know. While we had no intention of actually speaking to the bronze boys on the towering orange chairs, or even so much as making eye contact with them, just knowing they were there gave our journey a purposeful feel. Years later, I had no idea I would be walking on that same stretch of sand with my husband while participating in a three-day, thirty-mile pilgrimage from Jacksonville Beach to the Our Lady of La Leche Shrine in St. Augustine.
I had never done a pilgrimage so when I heard about the Baby Steps Camino put on by the Order of Malta, a Catholic lay religious order, I thought that my experiences as a teenager walking past miles of strategically spaced lifeguard chairs gave me the necessary foundation for the 10-mile daily walk.
It felt decadent to cast aside adult responsibilities for a day in the sun. My husband and I prayed the rosary, walked in silence, and talked about all kinds of appropriate things (although I can’t remember what they were.) We allowed ourselves to look for the occasional shark’s tooth and other treasures in the sand. We paused for a picnic lunch under the glory of the December sun. Most importantly, we pressed on. When we were hot, tired, and when my feet got wet and my toe got bloody, we just kept putting one foot in front of the other. It’s a lot like what we do in life when we remember that our final destination isn’t of this world.
Friends joined us on our second day walking, reminding me of how important it is to have good companions on our journeys – people who inspire us and make us laugh. While I was grateful for the joy of their company, seeing the fellow pilgrims dotting the beach each day with their tell-tale backpacks, reminded me that none of us ever really travel alone anyway. I never thought about that when I was walking with my best friend in high school. So often, then, it just felt like her and me. Yet, speaking to people who I had never met along the pilgrimage reminded me that no matter what walk of life we come from or where our paths diverge, we are united in Christ. None of us are strangers.
Walking so far from where we started, at our own pace and in our own time, felt like we were traveling towards the kind of peace that isn’t at a particular destination but is in the journey itself. On the last day of the pilgrimage, my husband and I woke early to complete the final 10 miles of our journey – only to stay at home instead. I could give you a litany of reasons for this, but if you are like me, you will just forget them anyway. Besides, the reasons don’t matter as much as realizing that even if I had walked another 10 miles, my journey still wouldn’t be complete. Not the one that matters, anyway. Not the one where at our life’s end, we walk straight into the loving arms of Jesus. That’s the real journey each of us is on. And, no matter where we walk, that’s all we really need to remember.
𝑯𝒊, 𝒂𝒍𝒍~ 𝑰 𝒉𝒐𝒑𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝑪𝒉𝒓𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒎𝒂𝒔 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒎𝒆𝒓𝒓𝒚 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒃𝒓𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒆𝒏𝒋𝒐𝒚𝒆𝒅 𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒚 𝒎𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒔 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒇𝒂𝒎𝒊𝒍𝒚. 𝑰𝒕’𝒔 𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒘𝒉𝒊𝒛𝒛𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒃𝒚 𝒇𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒏 𝑰 𝒘𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝑰 𝒂𝒎 𝒅𝒆𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒉𝒐𝒍𝒅 𝒐𝒏 𝒕𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒔𝒆 𝒍𝒂𝒔𝒕 𝒇𝒆𝒘 𝒅𝒂𝒚𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒐𝒈𝒆𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒏𝒆𝒔𝒔 𝒃𝒆𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒎𝒚 𝒌𝒊𝒅𝒔 𝒓𝒆𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒏 𝒕𝒐 𝒔𝒄𝒉𝒐𝒐𝒍. 𝑰 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒘𝒆 𝒄𝒂𝒏’𝒕 𝒎𝒂𝒌𝒆 𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒆 𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒑 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 𝑰 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒊𝒄𝒆𝒅 𝒐𝒏 𝒎𝒚 𝒕𝒘𝒐-𝒅𝒂𝒚 𝒑𝒊𝒍𝒈𝒓𝒊𝒎𝒂𝒈𝒆 𝒊𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒃𝒚 𝒕𝒂𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒂 𝒃𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒌 𝒇𝒓𝒐𝒎 𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒖𝒔𝒖𝒂𝒍 𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒆, 𝒘𝒆 𝒄𝒂𝒏 𝒈𝒂𝒊𝒏 𝒂 𝒏𝒆𝒘 𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒑𝒆𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒗𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒇𝒆𝒆𝒍𝒔 𝒓𝒆𝒇𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒍𝒚 𝒔𝒍𝒐𝒘𝒆𝒓. 𝑺𝒑𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒔 𝒘𝒂𝒍𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒐𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒃𝒆𝒂𝒄𝒉 𝒎𝒂𝒅𝒆 𝒎𝒆 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒍𝒊𝒛𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒃𝒚 𝒊𝒎𝒎𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒎𝒚𝒔𝒆𝒍𝒇 𝒊𝒏 𝒑𝒓𝒂𝒚𝒆𝒓, 𝒊𝒏 𝒒𝒖𝒊𝒆𝒕, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒏𝒂𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒂𝒍 𝒃𝒆𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒚 𝒐𝒇 𝒄𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏, 𝑰 𝒄𝒂𝒏 𝒆𝒙𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒅 𝒐𝒇 𝒑𝒆𝒂𝒄𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒎𝒂𝒅𝒏𝒆𝒔𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝑫𝒆𝒄𝒆𝒎𝒃𝒆𝒓 𝒄𝒂𝒏𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒓𝒊𝒑𝒑𝒍𝒆. 𝑰𝒕 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒂 𝒔𝒑𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒖𝒂𝒍 𝒔𝒑𝒂 𝒅𝒂𝒚 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏 𝒂𝒇𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒘𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒚 𝒎𝒊𝒍𝒆𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝒘𝒂𝒍𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒎𝒂𝒅𝒆 𝒎𝒆 𝒇𝒆𝒆𝒍 𝒓𝒆-𝒆𝒏𝒆𝒓𝒈𝒊𝒛𝒆𝒅. 𝑰𝒇 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒅𝒐 𝒂 𝒔𝒑𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒖𝒂𝒍 𝒔𝒑𝒂 𝒅𝒂𝒚 (𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒄𝒂𝒏!) 𝒉𝒐𝒘 𝒘𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒄𝒉𝒐𝒐𝒔𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒔𝒑𝒆𝒏𝒅 𝒊𝒕?
Orderofmalta.int Jennifer Jeffries Schoening ... See MoreSee Less
While most people fret over not knowing what to buy someone for Christmas, I have a different sort of problem. I love what I buy for others so much, I inevitably want to keep it.
I recognize that my propensity to want to hoard other people’s Christmas presents makes me like Dr. Seuss’s mean-spirited character, the Grinch. In fact, I’m afraid if I took one of those mail-in DNA tests, I might discover that my ancestry doesn’t descend from royalty like one hopes but from a tribe of hairy, pot-bellied, avocado-colored men whose hearts are two sizes too small.
Besides worrying about this fundamental flaw in my genetics, it’s a terrible nuisance to realize you still have more Christmas shopping to do because you kept many of the things you bought for others. My husband, who is a gifted enabler, lovingly wraps the gifts I hoard and puts them under the tree for me. I think it’s a relief for him because he doesn’t have to work as hard at trying to figure out what to give me for Christmas. So, maybe on some level what I’m doing is altruistic.
I know this behavior hardly conjures scenes from the nativity. I suppose I wouldn’t have made a very good wise woman anyhow. I would meet sweet baby Jesus with the gold I bought for him forged into a stylish bracelet around my wrist while explaining to him that his gift would arrive on the next camel.
The truth is it’s easy to get caught up in the commercialism of Christmas. We are conditioned to think that the best gifts we give are ones we purchase. Yet, in the words of my great Uncle Grinch twice removed, “What if Christmas, he thought, doesn’t come from a store. What if Christmas, perhaps means a little bit more?” Even the Grinch evolved enough to know that Christmas isn’t about the gifts we buy. Christmas is about the year-round gift we can be in each other’s lives by emulating the life of our Savior born during this holy season.
Every day, we have gifts to share with others. These are God-given gifts unique to each of us. Gifts that the world needs. Nothing I could ever buy for anyone could come close to symbolizing my love for them. Yet, by sharing laughter, patience, and compassion, they get a truer idea of what they mean to me. In the kaleidoscope of shiny red paper, gold ribbons, velvet boxes, and decadent desires, I sometimes forget that it’s not just giving that’s better than receiving. It’s giving of ourselves that is the very best of all. (And, I am not just saying that to justify keeping all the other presents). Instead, it’s because I know that no matter what I open on Christmas morning, or my birthday, or any other time of the year, it never compares to the person who gave it to me. They are the real gift. Nothing that comes from a store could ever outshine the way people in life show up for us. It could never be more precious than the love we receive from our neighbors. Remembering that is the gift we should all keep for ourselves.
𝑯𝒊 𝒂𝒍𝒍~ 𝑰 𝒘𝒊𝒔𝒉 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝑰 𝒉𝒂𝒅 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒘𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒆 𝒅𝒖𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒂𝒅𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝒔𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒐𝒏 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝒊𝒕 𝒉𝒂𝒔 𝒃𝒆𝒆𝒏 𝒂 𝒅𝒊𝒇𝒇𝒊𝒄𝒖𝒍𝒕 𝒎𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒉 𝒊𝒏 𝒂 𝒅𝒊𝒇𝒇𝒊𝒄𝒖𝒍𝒕 𝒚𝒆𝒂𝒓. 𝑰 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒃𝒆𝒆𝒏 𝒃𝒖𝒔𝒚 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒑𝒍𝒆𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒆𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒅 𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒅 𝒐𝒇 𝒆𝒅𝒊𝒕𝒔 𝒐𝒏 𝒎𝒚 𝒃𝒐𝒐𝒌 𝒘𝒉𝒊𝒄𝒉 𝒊𝒔 𝒆𝒙𝒄𝒊𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒖𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒍 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒆𝒚𝒆𝒃𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒔 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒂𝒃𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒑𝒐𝒑 𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒇𝒓𝒐𝒎 𝒆𝒙𝒉𝒂𝒖𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏. 𝑰 𝒂𝒍𝒔𝒐 𝒉𝒂𝒅 𝒂𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒃𝒊𝒐𝒑𝒔𝒚 𝒐𝒇 𝒎𝒚 𝒕𝒉𝒚𝒓𝒐𝒊𝒅 𝒘𝒉𝒊𝒄𝒉 𝒊𝒔 𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒕𝒓𝒖𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒐𝒇 𝒎𝒚 𝒕𝒉𝒓𝒐𝒂𝒕 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒂 𝒃𝒊𝒓𝒅 𝒘𝒉𝒐𝒔𝒆 𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒚 𝒊𝒔 𝒔𝒕𝒖𝒄𝒌 𝒊𝒏 𝒊𝒕𝒔 𝒈𝒖𝒍𝒍𝒆𝒕. 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒖𝒍𝒕𝒔 𝒘𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒊𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝒔𝒐 𝑰 𝒉𝒂𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒘𝒂𝒊𝒕 𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒇𝒆𝒍𝒕 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒂𝒏 𝒆𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒕𝒚 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒈𝒐𝒐𝒅 𝒏𝒆𝒘𝒔 𝒓𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒂𝒍𝒆𝒅 𝒃𝒚 𝒎𝒐𝒍𝒆𝒄𝒖𝒍𝒂𝒓 𝒕𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 (𝒍𝒐𝒘-𝒄𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒆𝒓 𝒓𝒊𝒔𝒌).
𝑺𝒐, 𝒂𝒍𝒂𝒔, 𝒕𝒉𝒓𝒆𝒆 𝒅𝒂𝒚𝒔 𝒃𝒆𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝑪𝒉𝒓𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒎𝒂𝒔, 𝑰 𝒇𝒆𝒆𝒍 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒚 𝒕𝒐 𝒊𝒎𝒎𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒆 𝒎𝒚𝒔𝒆𝒍𝒇 𝒊𝒏 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒔𝒆𝒍 𝒐𝒇 𝒋𝒐𝒚 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒔𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒐𝒏. 𝑰 𝒉𝒐𝒑𝒆 𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒈𝒐𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒐𝒏 𝒊𝒏 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒍𝒊𝒇𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒘𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒂𝒍𝒔𝒐 𝒊𝒎𝒎𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒔𝒆𝒍𝒇 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒋𝒐𝒚. 𝑷𝒆𝒓𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒔 𝒃𝒆𝒄𝒂𝒖𝒔𝒆 𝒊𝒕 𝒉𝒂𝒔 𝒃𝒆𝒆𝒏 𝒔𝒖𝒄𝒉 𝒂 𝒅𝒂𝒓𝒌 𝒚𝒆𝒂𝒓, 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒍𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒐𝒇 𝒉𝒐𝒑𝒆 𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒖𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝒃𝒚 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒃𝒊𝒓𝒕𝒉 𝒐𝒇 𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝑺𝒂𝒗𝒊𝒐𝒓 𝒔𝒆𝒆𝒎𝒔 𝒃𝒓𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒏 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓. 𝑴𝒂𝒚 𝒊𝒕 𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒆 𝒐𝒏 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒔𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝑪𝒉𝒓𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒎𝒂𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒌 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒃𝒆𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒈𝒊𝒇𝒕 𝒊𝒏 𝒎𝒚 𝒍𝒊𝒇𝒆. ~𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆, 𝑳𝒂𝒓𝒂 ... See MoreSee Less
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Do you ever just want to tell someone they are messing up? “Hey, you! There is a train coming towards you at 100 mph and I am thinking you may want to get off the tracks?” Presumably, we would all say something if someone was in physical danger, but when it comes to spiritual divergence it’s easy to stand idle and watch people get smushed.
All of the hoopla of a new year — a new decade can feel overwhelming like the throngs of crowds who enthusiastically greet it in celebration when the clock strikes midnight. This year I slept right through it. Partly because it makes more sense to start anew with a proper night’s sleep and mostly because I am just not that into the hype of a new year. I’m not interested in goal-setting or resolutions or crushing it (whatever “it” may be.) It’s not because I’m complacent or lack ambition or betterment. It’s just that for me, resolutions never seem to be the way to affect genuine life change.
I never understood the advice on public speaking about imagining your audience in their underwear. Maybe it’s because I don’t multitask well but I can’t imagine talking about God’s mercy while also trying to focus on an array of undergarments. Besides, it’s just creepy. While the intent may be to make the speaker more comfortable, I can’t think of anything more uncomfortable than a room full of people wearing only bras and briefs.
Virginia Slims cigarettes used to have an empowering ad campaign directed at women, “You’ve come a long way, baby.” If we ladies had come a little farther they would have left off “baby,” but it was the seventies and that’s as far as we had come: an anorexic cigarette, marketed specifically to our gender, empowering us to “bring home the bacon and fry it up in a pan.” (That was another ad campaign for Enjoli perfume).
Sometimes I feel like a tiny bird with an injured leg from an encounter with the claws of a crazed cat. I know how lucky I am to be here and how much worse things could be; yet, still, I carry a limp from my wounds that sometimes keeps me tethered to the ground. (I might start telling people that when they ask me how I am doing.)
Often, I feel like Queen Elsa in the 2013 Disney film, Frozen, with let it go repeating in my head like a scratched record or a warped mix tape warbling words of what has got to be the greatest three-word sentences in the history of ice queens.
In a reporting class, I took in college, if a student’s article had any factual errors, the instructor automatically took 50 points off their grade. It didn’t matter how insignificant the mistake was it resulted in an inevitable failure on the assignment. Fact checking was more important than your lead, punctuation, or your inverted pyramid. The paramount significance of accuracy in news reporting was underscored.
Last year, seventh-grade parents were given the assignment to write their children a letter explaining the meaning of life. Seriously? Why not just write the cure for cancer? Or, solve the problem of world peace? Or do ninth-grade algebra? The meaning of life?! 
I spend a lot of time with the devil I know. A lot of us do. We are stuck in careers, relationships, routines, and ruts that we long to change, but don’t. There is a litany of reasons for this: fear, laziness, uncertainty, and lack of confidence. It boils down to the notion that the devil we know is better than the devil we don’t.
In grade school, at the beginning of the school year, students are often asked to write about their summer vacation. However, as the sun begins to set on the season, I am contemplating how to live like its summer all year long.