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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I’ve tried to have a good attitude about the necessary sacrifices of living during a pandemic. I considered mask-wearing a clever and inexpensive way to hide wrinkles, with the added benefit of no longer worrying about whether bits of salad were caught in my teeth. I pretended my stint at homeschooling was like a long (albeit dysfunctional) episode of 𝘓𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘏𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘗𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘦. I put away the Pinterest worthy tchotchkes on the desk so my now work-from-home husband can actually use it. I’ve done the FaceTime happy hour, the social distanced visits in the sweltering back yard, and the scavenger hunt for mundanities like toilet paper, disinfectant, and flour. But when I went through the McDonalds drive-thru and was told that they are currently not serving ice cream cones because of COVID-19, I was done. I tried to keep the hysteria out of my voice when I asked the cashier what the who-ha she was talking about. 𝘕𝘰 𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘮 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘴?
I don’t want to get off on a tangent of how I am not sure if I want to live in a world without ice cream cones. And, I don’t want to debate anyone about the COVID germs lurking on the paper-wrapped cone that McDonald's altruistically saved me from (or how I typically remove the paper before consuming the cone). I get it. Everyone is doing their best in this madness. We are all trying to be tolerant, make lemonade with this bushel of lemons, find the joy in the simple things, remember what’s important, and otherwise paint sunshine and roses over the choked vines of 2020.
But sometimes all of the ‘𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘣𝘪𝘨 𝘰𝘧 𝘢 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘭 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘦 𝘴𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘮𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴’ concessions we make leave me melting like ice cream on a hot summer day. Only now, I have to melt in a cup. I know if Jesus is reading this post he’s likely to put his head in his hands while wondering how he is going to save my whiny soul. And while a vat of self-serve ice cream seems like an obvious solution, I know that what will save me is the same thing that leaves me grateful despite the wonky and worrisome year it has been – his mercy.
One of the reasons that I write about mercy is because I know it’s the small things that we do for one another that often mean the most. It’s easy to think life is about the right job, the fancy house, or the latest trends. But those things don't mean much when we are going through a difficult time. Instead, it’s the mercy of someone holding the door for you when your hands are full; giving you the benefit of the doubt when you’ve said something that would be easy to misconstrue; receiving forgiveness for something hurtful, and being listened to compassionately when you share your worries with others. Those are the kinds of things that make a difference – that remind us how important it is that we love our neighbor. Small mercies offer relief when we are tired, overwhelmed, overburdened, and over all the wonky and weird that has become our new reality. The simple mercy of remembering that we belong to each other is a light no matter how dark the times. So, let your light shine with warm and radiant acts of kindness towards others. They are even better than ice cream.
𝙃𝙞 𝙖𝙡𝙡~ 𝙄𝙩 𝙝𝙖𝙨 𝙗𝙚𝙚𝙣 𝙖 𝙙𝙞𝙛𝙛𝙞𝙘𝙪𝙡𝙩 𝙮𝙚𝙖𝙧 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙢𝙤𝙨𝙩 𝙤𝙛 𝙪𝙨. 𝙒𝙚'𝙫𝙚 𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙗𝙚𝙚𝙣 𝙖𝙨𝙠𝙚𝙙 𝙩𝙤 𝙨𝙖𝙘𝙧𝙞𝙛𝙞𝙘𝙚 𝙖 𝙜𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙩 𝙢𝙖𝙣𝙮 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 -- 𝙢𝙤𝙨𝙩𝙡𝙮 𝙘𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙞𝙨𝙝𝙚𝙙 𝙩𝙞𝙢𝙚 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙥𝙚𝙤𝙥𝙡𝙚 𝙬𝙚 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚. 𝙒𝙚 𝙘𝙖𝙣 𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝙖 𝙡𝙞𝙩𝙩𝙡𝙚 𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚 𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙙𝙣𝙚𝙨𝙨 𝙧𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩 𝙣𝙤𝙬. 𝙄 𝙖𝙢 𝙩𝙧𝙮𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙤 𝙗𝙚 𝙢𝙞𝙣𝙙𝙛𝙪𝙡 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙙𝙪𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙝𝙪𝙨𝙩𝙡𝙚 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙗𝙪𝙨𝙩𝙡𝙚 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙨𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙤𝙣. 𝘼𝙘𝙩𝙨 𝙤𝙛 𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙥𝙖𝙨𝙨𝙞𝙤𝙣 𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙗𝙚𝙨𝙩 𝙜𝙞𝙛𝙩𝙨 𝙩𝙤 𝙜𝙞𝙫𝙚 -- 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙩𝙤 𝙜𝙚𝙩. 𝙃𝙤𝙬 𝙬𝙞𝙡𝙡 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙨𝙝𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙢𝙚𝙧𝙘𝙮 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙖𝙙𝙫𝙚𝙣𝙩? ~ 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚, 𝙇𝙖𝙧𝙖 ... See MoreSee Less
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