That first Christmas...

The other day I saw a meme on Facebook about grieving at Christmas with tips about that "first Christmas." I thought...I don't remember anything about that first Christmas without Dan. I had to sift hard through the memory bank to come up with anything.

...and then I remembered.

To take you back there, this is the Christmas letter I wrote on Christmas Eve.

What I remember most about that first year was exhaustion. I don't remember what I bought my family (other than some cool light-up stocking caps for the boys). What I remember most was feeling like living required every ounce of my energy. Just getting through the day required an immense amount of strength. I think every fiber of my being was clenched to keep myself together.

...and I remember sitting in the front pew of Immanuel Lutheran Church listening to O Holy Night - and I cried. I cried and cried and cried. My soul was weary. My heart heavy. My body tired. ...but, I didn't feel a thrill of hope. I didn't know if rejoicing could come.

...and that magical second line drew me into my the arms of my Savior, my Jesus.

"In all our trials born to be our friend. 

He knows our need - to our weakness, (He is) no stranger..."

 That first Christmas wasn't all sadness; no, I am determined to be able to rejoice with others. I determined to be strong, I suppose, to not be a wet blanket upon everyone's joy. ...but, I carried such sadness in my heart, still. I think I can only admit to that heaviness, sorrow, and exhaustion now; now that it is only in retrospect; now that I am not weighed by that burden. But, I don't know that I could have admitted to the depth of it then. It would have overwhelmed me too much. However, Jesus knew my need - my need to be sad, to cry, to be held; with Him, I could release.

In Him, I could find release (and have). For me, it is now my third Christmas without Dan. For my friends grieving this Christmas, know that it is okay to feel your feelings. It is better to feel your feelings than to "put on a happy face." Your body cannot hold onto the trauma you've felt - let it release the tension.

For me, this past year has been a slow maneuver of release. The day Dan died I was told that I had to let him go - which probably triggered a response in me to say: I will not. I will never. I will carry him. I cannot leave him behind. I cannot let go of Dan.

I don't know how else to explain this except that I have physically felt my body holding on. I have muscles that can't seem to unclench. Training for that half-marathon certainly didn't help my body release. I should have treated myself with some gentleness, but instead...I pushed it. This year, I started doing some morning stretches 4-5 days/week. My body is finally releasing - after 3 years of tension.

In October, I started attending a gentle yoga session 1-2 times a week. Through the addition of this practice, I can feel the tension (slowly) letting go. During one week, we were laying on our backs with our legs up the wall - a good stretch to release the hips, where most of my tension is. This pose was then used in our 'shivasana' - the resting pose.

 As I lay there, I could first feel parts of my body tense, and as I pressed into the ground - release. I had an epiphany: I don't have to be the one holding myself together. I don't have to hold myself together. I don't have to carry the tension. I was made to be supported. The world was created to support us...we were not created to be self-supporting or self-sustaining.  We were made one for the other.

In all our trials born to be our friend.

He knows our needs; our weakness no stranger. 

Behold, your king. Before him lowly bend.

Oh holy night, when the Light of the world put on flesh to be our friend. Oh holy night, when the God who created us became just like us - entering the world just like I did - exiting the world through death - He became like us in every way to form a new way to commune with God. He carried every burden so that we could know we are never alone - in any trial, in any weakness. He experienced frailty, humiliation, loneliness, desolation, hunger, grief - so that we would know there is always HOPE. That HOPE will always spring up even when the darkness seems to be closing in.

 Light cannot be overcome by darkness - and LIGHT can be within us. In Him, our burden can be LIGHT - not dark nor heavy. Through the miracle of Jesus, we can experience joy even in our mourning.

I am living it. Jesus has changed my life. I didn't think it was possible; I thought that I was "good with God" three years ago - but, the emptiness that Dan's death brought has been so consumed with the Light of Jesus Christ that joy is more the cadence of my life as a widow than sorrow. That is resurrection. ...and resurrection is one of those miracle that only exists because of Christmas.

Merry Christmas my friends! May God bless us, every one.

Assurance

Yesterday's Gospel reading (from Matthew 11) contained a line that caught me:

The kingdom of heaven suffers violence, and the violent are taking it by force. (verse 12)

Intrigued by that, I set off to read more of Matthew 11 to gain some insight and clarity.

The beginning of Matthew 11 sees John the Baptist's disciples acting as his proxy. He (John) is in prison (by Herod - awaiting his death, but he doesn't know that part yet, but maybe he can sense it). ...and John has a question. John needs ASSURANCE from Jesus that Jesus really is the guy - the One - the Messiah. Are you who you say you are?

"Are you the One who is to come - or should we be looking for another?"


True to form, Jesus doesn't just say, "Yes." Instead, he says:

Tell John what you see and hear: 

the blind see,
the lame walk -
lepers are cleansed (nobody had seen that before) -
the deaf hear -
the dead are raised -
the poor have the good news preached to them;
and blessed is the one who takes no offense at me. 

With this response, Jesus is actually honoring John's intelligence and intuition. How? you wonder. In that response, Jesus directly quotes Isaiah 26, 35, and 61 - all Messianic prophesies. These passages were well-known to the Jews as signs to recognize the coming, the arrival of - the Messiah.

John the Baptist was the first to recognize Jesus (in utero he leapt for joy at the sound of Mary's voice, she pregnant with the baby Messiah). From the womb, John was living his calling of 'preparing the way for the Lord'! His whole life was spent living out this calling. (wouldn't we love that assurance?)

Jesus knew that John knew the Truth - but he just needed some assurance. The cultural expectation was that the Messiah would usher in a time of VICTORY, power, vindication...that the kingdom of the Jews would be redeemed and rise up. (post-Hamilton I can't use this phrase and not think of RISE UP.)

...yet...John finds himself in prison...and Jesus has come. He's the Messiah, right? The Messiah is HERE - IN OUR MIDST - but...I'm in prison? I thought I was going to be his right-hand man? I thought my job was to help usher him in - that together, we would RISE UP... but I'm in prison - and my intuition is giving me a feeling that something foreboding is on my horizon. ...is this...the plan?

Trying to make sense of his current circumstance that seems to be defying all expectations of "the plan" - John sends his disciples. Jesus tells John (via his disciples) via Isaiah:

You know me. You know my mission. You know. You recognized rightly. Rest in your calling and your mission, my friend. You are blessed in my kingdom.

AND THEN - Jesus does something extra. Jesus tells us - the crowd - who John is.

"Amen, I say to you,
among those born of women
there has been none greater than John the Baptist;
yet the least in the Kingdom of heaven is greater than he. 
.....
All the prophets and the law prophesied up to the time of John. 
And if you are willing to accept it,
he is Elijah, the one who is to come. 
Whoever has ears ought to hear."

I find this part so beautiful - and so like God. Sometimes, our deep struggle isn't simply needing assurance about God's character or mission - we need assurance about ourselves, too. 

Have you seen me, God?

Do you see this burden? Is it from you, God?
Should I keep going - or put it down?
Am I who you say I am?
Are you here with me?
Will you continue with me? 

AND THEN - Jesus speaks to the heart of John's confusion:

From the days of John the Baptist until now,
the Kingdom of heaven suffers violence,
and the violent are taking it by force. 

John, my cousin:  My coming isn't like our forefathers' vision. It's not a physical, earthly reign. We aren't building a castle or overthrowing Rome - like that. It's one for the Spirit - the Spirit manifesting itself in humanity - and transforming the physical, earthly realm through all people upon whom my favor rests.

You, my cousin, have been taken by force. They may take your life, but they cannot claim your spirit - or your calling - and they cannot a quench this revolution by taking a life. 

You are Elijah - and you have prepared the way of the Lord! You have fulfilled your calling, done your part.

This is enough for John the Baptist. In John's Gospel - it is noted that the Baptist responds with:

No one can receive anything except what has been given him from heaven. You yourselves can testify that I said 'I am not the Messiah, but that I was sent before him.' 

The one who has the bride is the bridegroom; the best man, who stands and listens to him, rejoices greatly at the bridegroom's voice. So this joy of mine has been made complete. 

He must increase; I must decrease. 

Week 2 of Advent focuses on Peace. Let us take note of John the Baptist's response to confusion and fear: he simply asked Jesus for clarity. ...and Jesus answered. Today's gospel (also Matthew 11) ends with "Wisdom is vindicated by her works." When we are in need of assurance: true wisdom asks God to 'rise up' - and waits with open eyes and ears to recognize the answer through the messenger God chooses.

I love that this reflection ends with point us to joy. When John received Jesus' message, he received the PEACE of the Holy Spirit. That peace led him to JOY - and greater love. WOW. 

 

 

The art of accompaniment: Bringing Peace

Today's Lectio Divina reflection comes from yesterday's (Monday, December 10) gospel reading.
Luke 5:17 - 26

One day as Jesus was teaching, Pharisees and teachers of the law, who had come from every village of Galilee and Judea and Jerusalem, were sitting there, and the power of the Lord was with him for healing. 

And some men brought on a stretcher a man who was paralyzed;
they were trying to bring him in and set him in his presence. 
But not finding a way to bring him in because of the crowd,
they went up on the roof
and lowered him on the stretcher through the tiles
into the middle in front of Jesus. 
When Jesus saw their faith, he said,
"As for you, your sins are forgiven." 

Then the scribes and Pharisees began to ask themselves,
"Who is this who speaks blasphemies? 
Who but God alone can forgive sins?" 
Jesus knew their thoughts and said to them in reply,
"What are you thinking in your hearts? 
Which is easier, to say, 'Your sins are forgiven,'
or to say, 'Rise and walk'? 
But that you may know
that the Son of Man has authority on earth to forgive sins"–
he said to the one who was paralyzed,
"I say to you, rise, pick up your stretcher, and go home." 

He stood up immediately before them,
picked up what he had been lying on,
and went home, glorifying God. 
Then astonishment seized them all and they glorified God,
and, struck with awe, they said,
"We have seen incredible things today."

What struck me was the second paragraph: when Jesus saw their faith, he said: as for you, your sins are forgiven.

Their faith. 
     - not the paralyzed dude - 
     - his friends - 
                  the ones who brought him, picked him up off of whatever surface he was lying on (bed, street - we don't know) - but they definitely picked him up because he was paralyzed
                  the ones who dared to hope for him, to believe for him
                  the ones who refused to give up simply because there was a crowd and the entry was blocked - the ones who persevered and came up with a new way to get their friend to Jesus

Their faith. Their faith demonstrated true phileo love - the love that goes out of the way for another - the love that climbs over another - the love that tears tiles out of a roof - and then trusts that someone inside is going to catch their friend on the stretcher when they lower it...LOVE. Love that demonstrates itself in persevering accompaniment. Love that lifts another out of their current situation and brings them to Jesus. 

They brought their friend to Jesus for his healing - not for their own. As true friends they were not seeking anything for themselves...and so, Jesus speaks to them first.

Jesus immediately recognized their actions. The One who is Love recognizes love moving through faith. As for you, you who are acting as my disciples, I want you to know, your sins are forgiven. As he says to Zaccheus, Today the Lord has come to your house. 

[And then of course the Pharisees get all up in arms - who is this Jesus to forgive sins? Does he think he's GOD? "Uh, yes, actually. ...and I don't think it, I AM."]

I think it's because of that exchange that I've always connected the "your sins are forgiven" to the paralyzed man - and not to his friends. ...but yesterday while listening, immediately, the Holy Spirit keyed me into they and their.


Week 2 of Advent is the theme of Peace. When reading this Gospel, it's easier to see hope and joy to me than peace. ...Finding the peace requires a deeper reflection.

What is the purpose of forgiving sins? 
:removing the infinite barrier between us and God (done by Jesus' death on the cross) 
:removing the physical, emotional, spiritual barriers between us and God, and us and others
to make way for - the subsequent indwelling of the Holy Spirit - the peace of God

What is the purpose of [supernaturally] healing the body?
:demonstrating the love of God (Father) through the power of God (Holy Spirit) for the purpose of bringing about a movement of greater faith in the world
       ....and those of you who have ever experienced a life-altering illness know the frustration,  confusion, abandonment that can accompany those...what PEACE that man must have felt (in addition to the joy, obvi) when he stood up for the first time.


Who in my life does God want me to walk beside? Who in my life is feeling abandoned - and in need of friendship? Who is frustrated and confused? May I be a friend like these men...and may I be so full of love that I don't keep shouldering their burdens onto my own shoulders trying to fix them myself (guilty): may I love them so fiercely that I tear through a ceiling to get them to Jesus.

Come Holy Spirit, embodiment of Peace.

Planning for the future: Hope

On the first week of Advent may true love gave to me....


For those unaware, Advent is the 4(ish) week time period before Christmas. Advent (for Catholics) is a time for fasting and preparing our hearts (not just our homes) for the Christmas miracle: God becoming man. Divine nature becoming human. For me, I am embracing lectio divina of the daily Scripture readings.

This first week of Advent centers on the theme of HOPE. As I read through today's readings, I kept this theme of HOPE in mind. Of those words, what communicated HOPE to me? Today, what spoke to me is this verse from Psalm 122:

Because of the house of the LORD our God, I will pray for your good. 

What follows is my morning meditation on this line. (Everything that is indented and italicized represents God's voice; italics that are not intended represent my own thoughts in this dialogue.)

 Because of the house of the LORD our God, I will pray for your good. 

Behold, the plans I have for you:  

 plans to give you hope and a future, plans to prosper and not harm... 

(Jeremiah 29:11 - from memory - so may not be entirely accurate)

I always thought I wanted to know God's plan for my life.

Like, could you just show me the blueprint? It would sure make it a lot easier to trust, you God. 
Ok, then - what about just the big one? Will I get married? Will a boy *finally* love me? 

...and naturally, if I knew "the big one" then I'd *obviously* know I'd be a mom. ...and none of the other things in my future would matter.


Isn't that the beauty of a calling? God speaks a truth to our hearts - one just for us: "this is the way; walk in it." In response, we look over our shoulder for clarification, "Uh, this way? This way, God? Ya sure? ...ok, so this way..."

I know the plans I have for you. Plans for hope - plans for a future - for your good. Listen. I will tell you the way you should go, whether to the right or left. Just listen.

Um, ok God. But I really don't want to screw this up.

I know.

But I think it would be a lot easier if you'd just let me in on the plan. Dontcha think? Then I won't screw it up....

Jessica. (I raise my head, but don't make eye contact)

Jessica. Look at me. (I look up, and the drop my gaze)

Look at me. I know the plans I have for you. Plans for a future - of hope. You know the plan I want most for you, though? Besides the doing and the achieving and the rushing around ... I want  you to know you are loved. You have worth because of who you are; because you are mine. I want you to know how good I am; the hope I bring; the peace that settles into your bones from being in my presence; the security of a future where I am. 

What you will do - where you will live - who you will marry - who you will influence: those feel like the big things - I know - but, (look at me) they really are secondary.

Really.

I know. It's sort of mind blowing, isn't it?

Yeah, yeah. I know society makes your think blah-blah-blah...I know. I've been upending societal norms for a while now....

(I digress) Back to the reality: Seek me first.

Seek me first and all these other things, they will come. In time, in due course - in a way you won't expect - don't fix your eyes - or your hope - there. Just keep your gaze on me. Tune your ears to listen to my voice. You're in for the ride of your life, trust me. I am praying for your good. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Ghosts of Christmas Past

There was something else I wanted to write about today. ...but Feelings gotta feel. So, I'm going down this tunnel looking for some light.

Has anyone else felt the heaviness of the season lately? The heaviness of expectation.

It makes sense when you think about it. Advent: the coming. The preparation for the birth. The month that seems to last 1,331 days instead of the typical 30-31. ...except that with this particular time, it seems to go too fast for one to be adequately prepared, which just adds to the heaviness of expectation.

I have felt that heaviness...it feels like dread. Like this weight that you want to shake, but you can't. It's coming for you; it's here; the time is upon you and you're.just.not.ready. You're not ready, and here it is. ...like a thief in the night.

I've heard the passages about Christ coming "like a thief in the night" many times. ...but until writing the above paragraph...I didn't really realize that's exactly what grief is like. That's exactly what Dan's death felt like to me: a thief in the night. I wasn't ready...but it came anyway.

...it came anyway.

The last 24 hours, I've been quite sad. I was reminded that December 11, 2008 was a pretty significant date in the story of Dan and Jessica. A year ago, I wrote about the start of our relationship.

December 11, 2008: Dan and I attended Esmerelda, a Christmas production put on by my church. Because of this amazing work that God did in my heart from the time we broke up on October 6 (when I was too afraid of losing a potential relationship to invite him to something that was really important to me: afraid) to November 30 (when I wasn't concerned about a relationship, but just wanted to spend time with him), he was attending. For at least the month prior, I had been praying that God would do a miracle in Dan's heart. ...and I thought that night would be the night of the miraculous.

Prior to attending, Dan came over for dinner. Whatever I had made really didn't turn out well. We ate it anyway. The wine, Matchbox from Fireside Winery, was good - and the conversation was excellent. We talked about our families and traditions...and for some reason, I think we talked about Ohio...and it felt so natural, so much like home.

Then, we went to play. It was great. ...then, we went out for dessert at Perkins and I had triple berry pie. We talked a long time; I remember we talked about how Dan had been baptized twice...how his very life (existence) was a miracle.

It was...magical. It was perfect.

December 12, 2008: I was working on two, take-home finals at a local coffee shop (Cafe Diem). ...and, I talked to my dad about the evening...and I realized that I had no other reason to see Dan. I had just had this wonderful night, and now, I realized, I didn't know when I would see him again. The ball was in his court, and I could only wait.

...and I cried. I sat in my car and cried actual tears as I cried out to God in prayer. What my dad had said 2 months earlier when he said that I loved Dan - was right. I loved him and I didn't even know if he liked me back. I had put it all out there...and...what would be next?

I sobbed and sobbed as I asked God to make a way.

I came in to the coffee shop and opened up my email. There was an email from Dan...stating that he had a really nice time and that he would like to see me again. Would I be interested in going to a movie that weekend?

Of course.

That movie was Four Christmases, one of the many Christmas movies in our repertoire.

A couple of days later, we met for a drink to celebrate the end of finals. ...I finally worked up enough courage to invite him to my family Christmas (per my mother's urging). His response was, "...um.....well...." (which is like an eternity) "Well, to be honest, I was kind of hoping for a better offer."
Me: "A better offer? Seriously? Do you know how much courage that took for me to invite you? ...and you said you were waiting for a better offer?"
Dan: "Well, I mean - a closer offer. I mean, you live like an hour and a half away...and that's a long way to go..."
(I agree. It is - which is the whole reason I didn't want to invite him in the first place, Mom.) Instead, I just sit there.
Dan: "I'll go. I'll go."
Me: "ok...."

So, on Christmas Day, Dan drove an hour and a half (one way) to have dinner with the Rohrigs. I was so nervous. I'd never - NEVER - had a boy join me for a family anything - let alone Christmas dinner. It was just my parents, brother and girlfriend and me...but I'm not sure if that means more or less pressure.

It was a lovely dinner. We exchanged some small gifts. My dad gave Dan a hammer. (which we still have) We played A Christmas Story monopoly in couple-pairs which morphed into It's a Wonderful Life monopoly when my dad became the banker with all the money (Mr. Potter) and my brother the staunch hold-out against his take-over (George Bailey).

It was fabulous. ...and suddenly it was 6pm and Dan needed to drive an hour and a half back to Ames and do chores along the way for the Ritter family.


I still wasn't sure how Dan felt about me, but I was pretty sure he liked me. A few days later, we watched the.longest.movie.ever (The Curious Case of Benjamin Button) - but he held my hand for the first time. ...and it was magical. Seriously. It was electric - just like the say in Sleepless in Seattle.


That was my December 2008; nine years ago now. It was magical. It was everything those blasted Hallmark movies portray.

Our subsequent Decembers together were equally as beautiful - and dramatic. (like that one where he proposed) :)

...and that is what makes the present December hard.


I don't really remember what last year was like. I probably was very adament to not let grief ruin the season. I don't know. ...but as I think about when I will do all.the.things, I feel a bit like ghost of our Christmas past is tapping on my shoulder:
remember when Dan proposed? 
remember how Christmas cards were SO your thing?
remember when you received SO many cards the year you moved to Michigan? 
remember when you had someone to spend the day with - regardless of where you were?
remember when you could get a hug any time you wanted? 


The Ghost of Christmas Past is going to come anyway. Grief is going to come anyway. We have a choice: we can let them come or we can try to shut the curtains of our 4-post bed - but, they will still sit there. Conversely, we can sit with the memory - and though it pierces our present - our hearts are being made more tender in the process.

The present is bitter because the past was so sweet. ...and the fear is wondering how it's even possible for someone to experience magic again. Like, is that even fair? Is it fair for someone to get magic twice?


I don't know. What I do know is that this time of Advent is a time where I can allow myself to empty the pain and burden I carry...because a time is coming when the valley will be filled. If I choose to be emptied, I can be filled. I believe that God who promises is a God who does - and that his promise is Emmanuel: God with us. God present-to us. The God who fills us with His very presence. The God of the Impossible, the Inconceivable, the Incarnate.

I will wait for him. I welcome him. ...and though I walk through the valley of the shadow, I will not fear - for He is with me.

O Come, Come - a Christmas letter

Dear My Friends and Family,

I have wanted to write this letter for a few weeks now, but have struggled with the appropriateness, the timing, the desire to have it look just right...and so, it's now Christmas Eve, and I've written no letter.

It's hard, honestly, knowing what to write. Do I recap the year? Do I tell you about all the times that we enjoyed in the first 6 months of 2016? Do I share pictures of our anniversary weekend to Traverse City? Do I create a funny cat Christmas card of a series of pictures Dan took of Acadia? Or, do I write an honest letter about me now - and make you cry in the midst of the joyful family photos? It seems like anyway I'd do it...it wouldn't be entirely accurate. In the past six months, I have realized that there is an element of sadness with the happy now; a bit more bittersweet. ...a bit more...real.

The last few months have been long, and hard. I find that I have only so much focus to give and most of that focus has gone into work. We have experienced a shortage of teaching and advising staff this fall - and I was teaching 3 classes (two were sections of the same class). There were points that I felt like I had gone far past the breaking point. I was glad to just get.through this semester. Christmas was the farthest thing from my mind.

As long and hard as they have been, there is also a light in those days. By the grace of God and intercession of Mary, I have been brought much closer toward the heart of Jesus. I have found a family at St. Mary's (our church) from our small group this spring at Alpha to a group of women who welcomed me with open arms (literally) at 'Wild Goose' to an opportunity to praise God with others through singing.

When I wanted to write a letter to you, my family and friends, this advent season, it was because I don't want you to miss the beautiful invitation that is advent: O Come. 

O Come, Come Emmanuel: My birthday falls in mid-November...and the days leading up to it were hard. I missed Dan. He always missed my birthday due to it falling right when he was traveling to NAILE (the North American International Livestock Exposition aka Louisville). Saturday, November 12, I attended Mass. Father Mark invited us to imagine our heart as a castle and in the center, our throne room where God (should) reside.

As I imagined mine, I felt like I was so far from being ready to enter the throne room. As Mass continued with the Eucharistic rite, I was just overcome with sorrow. I was so sad, so grieved, so heartbroken; as we were praying the Eucharistic prayers, again I saw the castle. This time, I saw the throne room. There were two thrones. But, both were empty. I first thought this must be because Jesus has come out of the throne room to find me - lost in one of the rooms. Because, wouldn't that be just like Jesus? Leaving the throne room to find us? In his letter to the Philippians, St. Paul tells us that he (Jesus) considered equality with God not a thing to be grasped - and so he emptied himself of his right to divinity to come to us.

However, the Holy Spirit nudged me to look around - to realize that I was in the throne room. I was not far off; so if I was not far off, where was God? In my sadness, He left the throne to sit beside me. To comfort me in my sorrow, he came to me. He was embracing me. ...and this is the beauty of Christmas - that Emmanuel God has come to us; to be with us; to embrace us in our time of deepest sorrow (or joy).

Rejoice! Rejoice - Emmanuel shall come to you: this time of grieving, it will not be forever. Jesus, the promised Messiah, has come to bind up the brokenhearted. In this time, we will grieve; in this life, we will taste the bitter and the sweet. He has come so that he can be present to us - with us - and to bear the pain and burden we carry.

O Come All Ye Faithful - I wasn't planning on really decorating for Christmas. I'm in Iowa for almost two weeks, and I didn't really see the point. I also really didn't have the energy. ...and then in a burst of time and energy over a December weekend, I had a clean and decorated house. It was my own Christmas miracle! (But really, it was. I have had very little energy after work to do much) Honestly, it was a gift. And I decided to host a "cocktails and caroling party." I invited some friends - and we gathered at a local elder community. Just singing for someone else with others brought so much joy to my heart.

At one point, one of the residents asked how we were all connected. Those present included my brothers-and-sister-in-law, friends of Dan's, our friends from work, and my friend Leslie. We were connected because of Dan...because of me...because of God bringing us all together: The faithful.

[Friends with kids: teach them the hymns! ...and go sing for others - because as Buddy the Elf says: the best way to spread Christmas cheer is singing loud for all to hear!]


While worshiping to O Holy Night this Advent, these lines struck me in a new way:

Long lay the world in sin and error pining till he appeared, and the soul felt its worth. A thrill of hope, the weary world rejoices for yonder breaks a new and glorious morn! Fall on your knees - oh hear the angel voices! 

You guys, for the first time, Dan's soul has finally felt its worth; in the presence of Jesus and God the Father and God the Holy Spirit - Dan knows how much he is (and always has been) loved. For him, a new morning has broken, surrounded by glorious light, everlasting love and peace. ...and for him, he now hears the angel voices singing in exultation:

Sing choirs of angels - sing in exultation; O Sing, all ye citizens of heaven above: Glory to God - all glory in the highest - 
O Come - let us adore him;
O Come let us adore him;
O Come let us adore him Christ the Lord!

In whatever mood this Christmas spirit finds you - the bitter or the sweet - the mourning or the joy: our invitation remains the same: O come. We are all invited to come. Come. You can praise the Lord with loud singing or with tears; both are precious to Him - because you are sharing your heart with Him.

Come.

May we know how much our souls are worth to Jesus; how much we are loved and held. May we hear the angels voices as we raise our own in wonder, in worship, and in love.

Love,
Jessica

January 14: Christmas?

In the Church, Christmas starts on December 24 eve and lasts through the baptism of Jesus - which was celebrated this past Sunday. So, technically, I have through this past weekend to leave my décor up, right?

Yes, I say! Yes! My friend Paige calls it laziness...I think I'll call it liturgical. A rose by any other name still smells as sweet, right?

This year was a little weird for Christmas decorating. 1) We didn't spend Christmas eve/day/or Days 2 & 3 in our house. 2) We didn't spend Christmas Days 5 & 6 in our house. 3) We didn't spend Christmas Days 9, 10, 11, 12 and beyond in our house. So, we didn't see any reason to buy a real tree - and because we'd like to buy real Christmas trees now that we can - we really didn't see any reason to shell out $100 on a fake tree. So, all of that effort on Black Friday to make Christmas ornaments was just pre-planning for next year.

I did get our Advent wreath up on the first day of Advent. I didn't get candles until the next weekend...and who would've imagined that the Christian bookstore would be OUT of Advent candles? Not this girl. So, I made do with some lavender scented tea lights for this year. On December 22, I found Advent candles at JoAnn's for 70% off - I am so ready for you 2014!

I finally made stockings on...like...December 21? 22? I don't know. It was late in the year. I made them narrow - so they are really, truly St. Nicholas stockings (meaning only some nuts, oranges, chocolates, and enough gold pieces to pay for our daughter's dowry will fit). [See what my friend Lisa does with her family's stockings.] Whatev - they are cute, and they will work. We try not to go overly-gifty, so these really are great for our Christmas plans.

Also, on December 21, I busted out our Nativity scene. Our original set was in the trailer that got carted off on February 1, 2013. Our insurance replaced it! So, the Willow Tree set made it's way from Nazareth all the way to Tucson.

...and...all of that stuff is still up.

Maybe this week I'll put it away. It is, after all, back to Ordinary Time. I can no longer call my laziness, liturgical. :)