new year's hopes

photo © 2010 Leland Francisco | more info (via: Wylio)Another year ending, another beginning.

Like most years, I'm home tonight, quietly waiting for that mystical moment when the clock strikes 12 and another ride around the sun begins. Sometimes, I wish I did something celebratory, but truthfully, I can't think of a place I'd rather be than here, listening to music, reflecting on what's gone on and anticipating what's ahead.

And like most years (okay, all years), 2010 had good and bad. It ended with a profound loss in my family when my grandpa, the only one I've ever known, passed on just a few days before Christmas. I think it was part of the reason I could feel that cloud of nearly tangible darkness around the Advent season, and why Christmas felt a lot like turning on the lights after a really long night.

But there was plenty of good too. I made some truly meaningful friendships that I know will carry into 2011 and beyond. I finally found a church that feels like home. I saw some of the best concerts of my life and found music that stirred me deep down and put words to some of my most elusive feelings.* Sporadic as it was, I even did more writing here in 2010 than I have for the whole history of this little blog. (funny, since I consider myself in a state of writer's block right now. boo.)

More than anything -- and I never say this lightly -- I think 2010 was a year that God did some serious work on my heart, in ways that would take a whole series of essays to explain. I learned more about doubt, faith, hope, and love than I have in a great while. I still have a way to go, but I guess the word that could sum up the end of this year best is peace. Ultimately, I feel at peace.

That's a good place.

Oh, I'm rambling, as usual. :) I'm truly looking forward to 2011. I won't make resolutions, because that never works. New Year's Hopes are more like it. Here's to another year of beginnings!

I've had this song stuck in my head for the better part of the night, partly for it's singable melody that feels like celebrating a new beginning, partly for the hope and sadness in the words.

"Eat and drink for tomorrow we die
We will look our Maker in the eye
Raise a flagon and drink to your health
Who is he that can conquer himself?

We are wandering where the wild wind blows
We are happy here 'cause the wild wind knows
What we are
Orphans, kingdoms..." ~ Brooke Fraser

* I really did want to write a bit about my favorite books, music, and concerts of the year, but never quite got there. So look for that in the first week or so of 2010. Should be fun to reflect on that.

And PS: I started a photo blog this year! Photo a day experiment over at tumblr. This could either be an amazing experiment or a colossal failure, but you're welcome to follow along at 365:twenty-eleven

God is not dead, nor doth He sleep...

photo © 2008 Marta Garcia | more info (via: Wylio)Merry Christmas! This was hiding out in my inbox today, from the Poets.org Poem-a-Day mailing list. I always loved this as a song, but until now had no idea it was originally written by Longfellow. (English nerd fail.) Enjoy this poetic moment. Hope your Christmas was glorious. :)

Christmas Bells
by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

I heard the bells on Christmas Day
Their old, familiar carols play,
And wild and sweet
The words repeat
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

And thought how, as the day had come,
The belfries of all Christendom
Had rolled along
The unbroken song
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

Till ringing, singing on its way,
The world revolved from night to day,
A voice, a chime,
A chant sublime
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

Then from each black, accursed mouth
The cannon thundered in the South,
And with the sound
The carols drowned
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

It was as if an earthquake rent
The hearth-stones of a continent,
And made forlorn
The households born
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

And in despair I bowed my head;
"There is no peace on earth," I said;
"For hate is strong,
And mocks the song
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!"

Then pealed the bells more loud and deep:
"God is not dead, nor doth He sleep;
The Wrong shall fail,
The Right prevail,
With peace on earth, good-will to men."

sunday happiness*9

My last post was such a downer, it seems like an appropriate time for another edition of Sunday Happiness. (I only got 9 minutes of Sunday left, so it's probably more like Monday Happiness at this point.)

1. Being a part of an Engaging Life Christmas block party today. We played music, served food, and gave gifts to kids in a Mt. Dora neighborhood... such a fun and beautiful picture of community.
2. Getting to know a newer member of EL I hadn't previously met. A new believer sharing her story. It moved me.
   
3. Decorating the Christmas tree with Sherri last night (yeah, I know... you all had your trees up a month ago, right?) We listened to symphonic goth metal on Pandora while we were at it. I am not making this up.
4. This hilarious ornament we found in the process.
   
   
   No idea where it came from, but Sherri said, "Hey, it looks like Crookshanks!" So we have Crookshanks and Wonder Woman on our tree, and that makes me happy.
5. Experimental cooking tonight... I improvised my own version of this pasta with stuff I already had, and it was actually pretty tasty.
6. ELF. Smiling's my favorite.
   
7. Checking the mail is a lot more fun right now. Had a Christmas card from my cousin in MI and a free coffee sample from Starbucks. Win!
8. The weather is now cool enough to feel Christmassy, but not so much that I'm freezing. Yay Florida!
9. I don't have to get up early tomorrow. Yay vacation!
10. Have I mentioned Christmas is coming? Truly the most wonderful time of the year.
    

advent: grace in the dark

photo © 2006 Matt Reinbold | more info (via: Wylio)I'm starting to see the poetic beauty of Christmas at the end of the year, just before winter's darkness. How else would we appreciate the light?

I'm also learning just why this time of year is so hard for many, and why this season matters so much in the Great Story of Redemption, and why it's not just about joy and celebration but about waiting and heartache too.

Right now, my parents are in Georgia, my mom trying to figure out how to say goodbye to her daddy. Wednesday afternoon, we got the news nobody wants to hear, that he wasn't long for this world and there was nothing to be done. It hurts to stay behind, but I have this sense that being here at home, taking care of the stuff of life to keep that stress out of her mind and let her focus on simply being there with him, is the best way to serve my mom. And meanwhile, I'm trying to figure out how to let go, let the grief take its course, and deal with the fact that right now I miss their presence more than anything and am (somewhat selfishly) hoping they'll be home in time for Christmas.

I'm not sure how to put all this into words, and I don't know if I want to. It's still raw and personal, and confusing, because I've never lost anyone quite like this. There are people praying on our behalf for peace and hope, and I can feel it in the air around us, mingling with the tension and pain.

But there are little moments of grace too.... when I was feeling especially down at work yesterday morning, not really wanting to talk to anyone or be anywhere, Gisele called me into the lobby like she always does to sort the mail. Our nice mailman gave us both a little surprise...

(photo by Gisele)

I swear, I just about cried, and probably would have if we weren't laughing so hard at his unexpected kindness.

And then the day of the bad news, I had an adorable Christmas card in the mail from my friend Lindsay with one of the kindest letters I've ever received. Again, surprising grace.

Tomorrow is the final Sunday of Advent. We'll light the last candle in church; we'll complete the little Nativity scene and delight in the joy that morning is coming. I'm feeling like a little kid again, eager for Christmas Day to come. Quickly.

I'll close off with this, one of my new favorite Christmas songs "I Will Find a Way." This one was an artist's vision coming to life, a true labor of love, as you can see if you read this story at The Rabbit Room from the songwriters, Jason Gray and Andy Gullahorn. It takes a few listens to grasp the full beauty of the story, but it's worth the effort. (I recommend you listen before reading their blog post or the lyrics though, so not to spoil the "plot twist." :))



Amen. Emmanuel.

further thoughts on advent

Everything I know about the liturgical calendar I've learned from bloggers.

Okay, that's not entirely true, but it was the thoughtful words of writers that are helping me see the beauty in spiritual seasons, and so I thought I would share some links to a few that have helped me better understand the Advent season.

• Pastor and author Rob Bell's article "Why Should We Care About Advent" from Relevant Magazine explains the spirit of Advent through sound and time and why this season of waiting matters.
  
  
• Rachel Held Evans shares 28 practical ideas to make Advent more meaningful, from books to read to steps of action and traditions
  
  
• Kristin Tennant began her Advent series at Halfway to Normal with "Defining 'Near' and 'Close.'" (Don't miss the insightful comments at the end from her reader community.)
  
  
• Ryan Hamm wrote a guest post for The Search that says everything I was thinking, only way more eloquently. :)
  
  
• And finally, a sweet Advent confessional prayer shared by Micha Hohorst at Mama Monk.

Hoping these words will be helpful and speak to you the way they've taught me this past week.

advent: hope in the in-between

photo © 2007 Per Ola Wiberg | more info (via: Wylio)The day after Thanksgiving, and not a day sooner, we started playing Christmas music at Z. When I tell people this, I usually find one of two reactions. The first (and rarest) is excitement for that once a year switch in the music. The second is usually an embarrassed, cringy kind of expression, followed with, "Yeah, I know. I turned it off."

Yesterday, as I was sitting in the dentist chair waiting for my lip to go numb, my dentist's assistant (who happens to be a listener) asked how things were going at work. I told her about the Fundraiser, and how busy things had been, and when I mentioned Christmas music, she gave me a variation of Reaction #2 that stuck with me. "I know.... I love it, but I'm just not ready for it. Maybe in a couple weeks. But not now."

It stuck with me, mostly because I've been catching myself really looking forward to the Christmas season. I even pulled out a couple of Christmas CDs the week or two before Thanksgiving, just for a taste, and Monday I couldn't wait to put out my little desk decorations. I've never been more ready. And yet, for most of us, it's something to dread. Not the Day necessarily, but the stuff in between that gets in the way. There is movement and little time to feel the waiting.

After all, waiting is a foreign concept to a plugged-in, on-demand world. Could this be why the early signs of Christmas decorations and music cause us stress? That we know there are lists to check, gifts to buy, the constant blocks of time to push on through?

Somewhere along the way, we forgot how to wait. I forgot how to wait. And that's why Advent matters.

Until recently, I've known very little about whens and whys of the liturgical calendar, but I do remember Advent calendars with their 25 little doors to represent each day in December. As a kid, I thought this was the best idea for counting down to the big day... I remember the wait seemed so much longer, that endless, restless, eager anticipation that I'm sure had more to do with presents than piety. Even in "secular" Christmas songs, you hear it. "It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas," they say... "please Christmas, don't be late." You hear the world pining for something big, grand, joyous.

But this is bigger.

It's an entire creation groaning with the weight of captivity.

A nation waiting for prophecies made real.

Broken hearts crying for rescue.

A Messiah. Come to ransom the mourning in a mysterious, frail, all too human form.

This year, I'm trying to be still, to wait, to remember. I hear the silent longing in the strains of the music, see the first signs of decorated neighborhoods as if they're lighting the way. Christmas is not just about a day, but the days before, a great sadness and a greater joy, and this paradox of hope in the in-between is where it comes alive.

I just started reading a Fredrick Buechener devotional called Listening to Your Life. It's a daily reader (something I've always been terrible at sticking with), but I figured starting at the back of the book with December might yield some little pockets of peace in the Christmas season. So glad I did. Closing with some thoughts on Advent from the December 1st reading:

"'Advent' means 'coming' of course, and the promise of Advent is that what is coming is an unimaginable invasion... An invasion of holiness. That is what Advent is about...

"In the meantime, we are in the dark, and the dark, God knows, is also in us. We watch and wait for a holiness to heal and hallow us, to liberate us from the dark. Advent is like the hush in a theater just before the curtain rises. It is like the hazy ring around the winter moon that means the coming of snow which will turn the night to silver. Soon. But for the time being, our time, darkness is where we are."

This is the first of what I hope will be a series of posts on Advent, remembrance, and waiting throughout this month. I have so much more to say than will fit in a blog post short enough for people to actually read! :) But your turn: What does Advent mean to you? Do you observe the weeks before Christmas in any special way?