They say honesty, openness, and transparency make for a good blog post. We shall see.
This is one of those written-from-the-heart-I'm-not-sure-what-people-will-think-but-I'm-going-to-risk-it-anyway blogs.
The humbling kind.
The kind that I will still include in my grandchildren's book someday, thankful that they can learn from my mistakes...probably glad that I will be gone by the time they read it. Grandchildren do seem to idolize their grandparents, don't they?
So, I've cancelled all my activities for the day. I've told my husband not to come home for lunch. I've nixed attending tonight's Bible study. All I want to do is cry. And think. And repent.
There are days you can run from what God is saying, and there are days you need to turn around and embrace it. This feels like one of those Jonah Days...when God allows you to slam into a wall and you realize that you have been running in the wrong direction...moving under your own power and understanding...
But now it's time to stop. Turn around. And repent.
Winter has a way of slowing me down. I'm not into winter sports...or any sports for that matter! Well, except hiking and walking if those are sports, but probably not as usually a sport involves competition...with someone else. It's just me and my camera and my binoculars competing with myself to see how far I can venture on my rambles and explorations. And that's the way I like it.
This slowing down during Winter is something I have learned to embrace. Our winters are milder in North Carolina than the ones of my childhood in the Northeast. I have learned to bear with our four short months of gray and clouds and cold. As they say, "If you can't beat it, join it." My gardens and all around me are at rest...any outside work has to wait until Spring whispers her invitation for the world to awaken.
Being forced to be inside has its benefits...one being more time to read my stash of books and work on photography and blogging and other interests that bring me joy. And I love sitting in the warmth of my home watching the variety of birds that flock in to our feeders for the daily smorgasbord I offer them. They are so much easier to spot without those pesky leaves on the trees!
Right now I'm working through the book, Magical Journey...An Apprenticeship in Contentment by Katrina Kenison. Most of the book has been underlined, which means it will take its place on a specific area of my bookshelf reserved for books that speak to me. Or, as I like to think, I could have written!
They are the handful of books that come to mind when someone I know is going through something I've already walked through...the books I want to buy them so they too can be blessed and encouraged by the truth within. True book lovers will understand this compulsion!
Today Katrina talked about the beauty of an ordinary life. Doesn't that sound lovely? After all, that's what most of us have...ordinary lives. And the idea that they can be beautiful...well, it just sounds so hopeful!
I don't know about you, but I have never desired to be famous. Well, maybe in my teens for some reason but I was delusional then. The idea of people watching me and following me and being in my face sounds nightmarish to me. I am an introvert who can be an extrovert for short sprints of time, but in the end am happiest when I can return, with a deep sigh of relief, to a hidden life. Please know that I'm not against people being famous...as long as it's them and not me!
So, the beauty of an ordinary life...what does it look like?
I know years go by fast for two reasons. First, it's always Thursday night and time to put out the garbage. And secondly, The-Great-Bluebird-House-Clean-out-Time is upon us...again.
The garbage thing is no big deal...it's Ted's job to drag the loaded can up the gravel driveway to the roadside. If he ever dies I will just leave it there.
But the birdhouse clean-out...that's a 2 person job...one to do the work, and one to write down the pertinent data. That be me.
Now, if you don't have 33 Bluebird houses to clean out you may struggle with understanding the breadth of this task. It started innocently enough with a few houses. And then the babies from those houses needed houses of their own. And every year this issue has grown exponentially until now it is akin to a nightmare. For us, not them.
So this weekend, if it doesn't rain, we'll drag out the ladders and heavy gloves, the screwdrivers and scraping tools, the drill and extra plastic entryway covers, and load them all into the car along with my trusty book and pen, and set out to see what the past year has wrought.
Don't get me wrong...I love Bluebirds and I love helping them. Not too long ago they were struggling to survive development and loss of habitat. Now the Nuthatches are feeling the same pain. Don't tell my husband, but this year I have plans to put up a few more Nuthatch dwellings just to lend a hand. I ask you...can I do any less?
Last week I was out birding with friends, and we were talking about I can't remember what and I shared how the Flying Squirrels have taken over some of the houses, and one of the women said, "Oh, how cool! I've always wanted to see them!" And I said, "Well, then feel free to come along because we've given up three of the houses to them and I'm sure they're there."
And I'm sure they are there. It's another case of "Aw, they're so cute (when they're not jumping out and flying in your face as you open the birdhouse door)...and look at their little tiny babies...even they need homes so let's leave them alone." Guess who said that? Hint...it wasn't Ted.
And that's what's got me thinking this morning...how things get into our lives that may seem good, but they aren't helping matters any.
There are mornings when I wonder what I'm doing...when I've just spent hours working on a blog and I walk away and come back to reread it and all I see is blah-blah-blah.
And painfully I realize I should have pressed the delete button hours ago.
Who was that person that took over my body and brought such rambling and non-sensibleness into being? Surely not moi?
I should know by now that when it feels like the words are stuck...when it's an effort to birth a thought...that maybe the baby's not ready to be born yet.
Seriously, I need to print this out and tape it to my computer: Unless the Lord builds the house...or the blog...they labor in vain to build it. Amen?
Yeah. So. Let's try again. Let's start at the very beginning as the song says...
This won't be a long blog. You're busy. I'm busy. The world is crazy busy, especially this time of year. And I need to get out and ring a bell.
In order for you to understand where I am going with this Merry Christmas? It's just not working blog thing, you need to know that this year I answered a cry from the Salvation Army for more bell-ringers. I had been asking God to show me where I could serve...I tend to get paralyzed like a deer in the headlights at all the opportunities to minister out there and I need Him to make is so clear that I couldn't miss it. And He willingly obliged. A call went out. I heard it. And now I ring. Simple!
One thing about the Salvation Army is that it gets the job done, providing shelter, food, clothing, whatever is necessary, freely, to those in need with little going into corporate pockets. I like that. I can stand in temperatures so cold that my mouth stops working and the bell tumbles from frozen fingers for a cause like that!
But yesterday I was struggling. I don't know how other people do the bell ringing. I've heard that some bell-ringers sing and dance and do all sorts of talented things to draw people in. But me of little talent, I just sit there and smile and wish everyone that comes in front of me a Merry Christmas!
And this is where the trouble started.
After about three days and hundreds of Merry Christmas! wishes, I began to struggle. At first I thought it was the cold, making my words slur together, But then my greeting began to sound shallow. Wrong. Out of place.
First there was the man who stopped, looked me straight in the eyes, and said, Happy Hanukah! I blinked and then replied the same to him.
Next came the sad-eyed woman that sidled up to me and stood there. She needed to tell me that her mother had died this year and the Merry just wasn't there anymore. Oh my dear, I know your pain!
And the multitude of others who had stories to tell of loss and sickness and a year that was anything but Merry. And after each story my heart grew heavier.
Between visitors I found myself singing the song, I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day...repeating over and over the one verse, "There is no peace on earth, I said."
Hour after hour a parade of broken humanity walked past me. My heart cry became, "Lord, how do I bring hope into these people's lives?" A Merry Christmas! wish is not working.
And that question has been hanging on to my heart throughout the night. And this morning it's still there.
Options have presented themselves like tidy schoolchildren for inspection...
Peace! No, they'll think I'm from the 60's and some may give me the peace sign back, and then what will I do?
The peace of the Lord be always with you! Which says more but has too many words to say over and over again to all those people. They'll think I'm drunk as my speech begins to tangle after the first hour.
Happy Holidays! Oh my, no. That's got all the makings of our secular culture.
Good Morning! Good Afternoon! Good Evening! Ugh. It not only sounds like The Truman Show, but I'm back to the same problem...Merry/Good...not going to work.
What I wish I could do is stop. And listen. And take time to meet each person where they are at...where their pain is making havoc of their lives...where their fears and questions hang them.
At times I have wanted to fold up my bucket stand and walk away. How's that for true confessions?
But I can't.
I love that so many give money, freely, to a worthy cause. And that's really why I'm there. It's the greeting that I'm struggling with.
So, this is what I've decided...
Today, I will give the gift of Presence...right there in front of that food store, next to the Sun City retirement community.
By His grace I will greet each person with a smile and a God bless you! because only God knows where each of those precious souls are in their earthly wandering and where they need a blessing. I sure don't.
You see, they know it's Christmas. I know it's Christmas. You couldn't miss it in our culture.
But what they may not know is the reason we celebrate Christmas...that it's not about gifts and parties and busyness. If that is the only star to follow, we will end up hopeless and exhausted and broke.
Instead, Christmas is a gift of relationship...from a God who cares so passionately for us that He left the glory of Heaven to come to earth as a vulnerable infant...Who, living a sinless life, was the only worthy sacrifice for our sins...ultimately dying on the cross for our salvation. This is the message we all need to hear...over and over and over again...not only at Christmas, but every day of every year.
The true meaning of Christmas is that God loves us so much He provided a way for us to be with Him forever...Christ Jesus, Emmanuel, God With Us.
And now, because of this Gift, we have hope every day, no matter what life throws at us.
And that is what I pray my smile and greeting will tell them.
So, on that note I leave you...it's time to get ready to ring. Thanks for listening.
And in expectation of ringing today, I say with a full heart, God Bless You!
May the joy and hope that Christ brings be yours in abundance during this season of celebration and throughout the New Year!
Have you ever heard the saying, "If you want to hear God laugh, tell Him your plans?"
Well, over a week ago someone said to me, "Send me your newest blog when it's ready."
And I, confident in my ability to foresee the future, replied, "Oh it will be up tomorrow! I'll make sure I send it on to you." Laugh. Laugh.
It is now nine days later. Like the pastor said during his talk on Sunday, "What makes you think you were ever in control?"
And that is really a very good question.
I come from a long line of controlees...people who were wired to "keep it together"...a direct descendent of William Bradford who took the ultimate control and left the Old World across the Pond to establish a colony in the New World....
A Swamp Yankee by heritage...born with a bootstrap in hand and an ingrained sense of how to pull oneself up by said bootstrap on a daily basis.
The thing about bootstraps is that the more you pull on them, the stronger your boot-strap-pulling-muscles grow. It becomes second nature to pull, pull, pull. After awhile, you don't even realize you are pulling anymore.
But eventually you do realize you are tired...very, very tired. And pulling gets more and more difficult. But you can't imagine ever letting go. Pulling is the only life you have ever known...how would life go on without your pulling?
And in that desperate moment God, in His infinite mercy, looks down upon you and plants in you a hunger for rest, which being the good controlee you are, only means you amp up your need to pull harder and make that rest-thing happen by golly!
Rest? Got it! Pull, pull, pull!
So God, in even greater mercy, steps up the trials and tribulations in your life. And you pull harder and harder...and the cycle goes on and on and on...
Until one day you can't pull anymore. And exhausted you let go, not seeing God in the midst of it, just believing that you must have failed. If you had held on just a little longer...pulled a little harder...all these trials and tribulations would not be happening.
Paul has a name for this merciful intervention by God..."The Gift of a Handicap"...
It's been a long time since I've gotten excited about God.
Or anything for that matter.
I have been living in what I have called "The Year of the Great Darkness"...a year when so much has been stripped away...taken away...denied.
I have been dancing around God...eyeing Him...watching Him...waiting for Heaven knows what.
Who was this God I had bet my life on? And where was He during the days, no months, of anguish and tears and depression?
My feeble cry, my simple prayer, became, "Please, please don't forget the work of Your hands." That was it.
Some call this The Dark Night of the Soul and I have come to believe that's a fitting name for it, for the path ahead is unclear...you've never traveled it before so you don't know how to get Home.
And you begin to wonder...
"Suppose the darkness never lifts?"
"Suppose you are left to wander in it forever?"
"Suppose this is the new normal and you're not sure you want to live anymore if it is?"
The verse about people in darkness seeing a great light...Isaiah 9:2...has always been one of my favorite Christmas verses. It sounded so good. So right. So Christmassy. But I never understood the horror of it until now.
"The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light. For those who lived in a land of deep shadows- light! Sunbursts of light!"
It's one thing to maneuver around your home in a power outage...it's another thing entirely to walk in a foreign place where you are completely unfamiliar with your surroundings.
It's frightening. I feel those people's pain.
Now I know you're thinking, "But wait! That verse doesn't end with darkness...there's light, too!"
Yes, yes there is.
But those people walking in darkness didn't flip on the light switch. God did.
And that's what's been one of the hardest things for me to understand...this God, my Heavenly Father, could switch on the light in a heartbeat. But He hasn't. Why?
Instead, He's allowed me to wander in the dark night...in the land of deep shadows. Why?
