Contemplative Holiday

This year, because my brother the pilot is flying on Christmas, our family will celebrate three days late. I still have the day off work, though, which means I get a rare, cherished day by myself in the Hobbit Hole. A list of thoughts I am having throughout this holy day:

-- I can drink before breakfast!

-- I could eat a banana and then make pancakes. Or, wait, I could put the banana IN THE FUCKING PANCAKES!

-- What happens if I put this nectarine on this radiator?

-- Probably gonna poop soon.

-- Whoops, dropseat on the footie pajamas got caught on the doorknob.

-- Hey, look how my tummy's flatter after pooping. Neato.

-- Let's rotate that nectarine.

-- I'll eat a banana, then drink, then put another banana in the pancakes. Fruit.

-- I like that it's cold outside,

-- The sackbut/trombone players on this Renaissance Christmas album are outstanding. Little bit jealous.

-- Radiator burn. Ow.

-- Would Monteverdi have had female sopranos?

-- This shampoo makes my head feel minty. Minty is a feeling.

-- Gah, lotion is cold! Can I microwave it? No, don't do it.

-- Can you put Kahlua in pancakes?

-- I can wear Christmas socks today!

-- Ugh, I don't wanna wear my good underwear. Do laundry.

-- Of all the trees that are in the wood, the holly bears the crown. Indeed.

-- Let's play with hair gel.

-- Misread that line from Psalm 92, "They are full of sap," as, "They are full of crap."

-- I should ask the dermatologist about this.

-- The milk is frozen. Should not have messed with the fridge temperature just because the Polaner All Fruit went moldy.

-- Let's play it safe and remove that tangerine.

-- OK, enough Facebook. Time for yoga/nap on the floor. Remove the Smurf hat first.

-- It's not perfect, and it's OK.

-- Based on the impressions on this mat, my heels are surprisingly spherical.

-- The jazz flute on this prophetic worship album reminds me of Ron Burgundy.

-- "No diggity, just back it up..."

-- Let this day be what it is.

This Christmas Eve

Last week was awful.

There were a couple of profound disappointments, in a week that was supposed to be enjoyable; it contained a huge event at work, our office holiday party, and my birthday. It all ended up being pretty difficult, and I spent a fair amount of time trying not to cry in front of other people. Perhaps worse than feeling let down by others was the way it left me (as it always does) questioning and frustrated with myself. If I were braver, surely I'd be able to face these issues head-on and find resolution! But I'm not braver than I am.

It felt like Christmas was already over, and I was enjoying the lead-up to the holiday even less than usual.

Until tonight. I wasn't feeling Christmassy, but I was doing a reading in the Christmas Eve service at church, so I had to be there. And somewhere in the midst of the stories and carols that I'd heard a gazillion times, I realized that all this imperfection is, in a way, the whole point. God came to a messed-up Earth full of messed-up people who didn't miraculously un-mess up when He arrived. And every year, everything is still messed up. But Christmas still happens. That's actually what's great about it. I can be as weak and afraid and dysfunctional and sad as I need to be, but all that's true about Christmas holds true anyway. It holds true precisely because imperfect people like me needed it two thousand years ago and we need it now.


Have a wonderfully imperfect Christmas, friends. May you sleep in heavenly peace, because peace isn't based on your worthiness, or your ability to talk yourself down from a crisis, or whether you got all the cookies baked and the presents wrapped. It comes down to meet us.

God bless you, my fellow screw-ups!

Christmas Spirit

As a kid, "Christmas spirit" to me meant feeling like the season was special and exciting, and enjoying the specifics of it as special -- the music, the goodies, the decorations, the stories, the TV specials. You look forward to them, and you get a kick out of counting down the days till Christmas itself.

The transition to adulthood brings a wider view, where the rest of your life and the rest of the world creep in and affect your moments. Instead of Christmas having the power to make you happy, the rest of your life has the power to make Christmas sad. Add my own personal predisposition towards melancholy, and by seventh grade I was disappointed with everything that failed to live up to my childhood ideals. It wouldn't be cold enough to snow, or the whole season would just feel so normal, so not special.

That frustration and disappointment has stayed with me. I want to enjoy the music and the lights, and I now suspect that the trying makes it worse. Two days ago, it was gray and damp outside. I was working indoors (not always the case), with Christmas music playing and the smell of yummy foods surrounding me. In that setting, I decided I'd like to take a different approach: letting this season be what it is, rather than trying to force it to be anything. Is it too warm to snow? Let it be. Do I not feel like listening to a certain style of Christmas music, even though I'd felt like it earlier? Let myself listen to what I want in that moment. Do I not feel like shopping for a gift I need to get? Wait until the mood strikes me (within reason). Just let it be. Don't wish for what Christmas was when I was six. Let it be what it is now.

Let it be enough.

Soliloquy: Miss Chestnut

I gave a performance based on my decision to let go on 11/22/13, and there is a video of it now on YouTube. I call it "Miss Chestnut." Here is a link, if you're interested:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=H9y04qYou48

Hope you enjoy it :-).