Renewed and resolved

It's the new year and the world is flush with declarations of the gonna-dos ahead: gonna get healthy; gonna quit some terrible habit; gonna get a better job/house/car/partner; gonna get the finances in order.

Gonna do a lot of good things.

We're two weeks in the new year ... gonna keep that resolution? If you are a resolution maker, I wish you the best of luck.

I mentioned before that I don't usually make resolutions at the first of the year. I like to evaluate my life closer to my birthday in March.

Still, as we wrap up the celebration of Christ's arrival at Christmas, it does make sense to assess our lives. Christ brought with Him redemption. That second chance is the true gift of Christmas and one that should not go unappreciated.

I have to admit, my holiday season was hectic. I felt overwhelmed, overextended, overcommitted and, by the time Christmas arrived ... well, over it all.

It felt petty to have the blues when I know how very fortunate and truly blessed I am. But that's how I felt. It was my reality.

I also had the flu for the first time since 1996 and it was certainly not mood enhancing.

So, with New Year's Day, came renewed health (thanks, Tamiflu!) and a real desire to climb out of this unusual holiday funk.

We've just passed the darkest days of the year, and with each day, we step closer to greater light. Again, it makes sense to begin a new - or renewed - journey of self discovery as the days begin to slowly stretch longer. Those streaks of orange-pink-purple in the sky at 6:15 p.m. are a most welcome reminder that we need not remain in darkness for long.

I want to be ready to greet the light as it dawns with a renewed sense of hope and appreciation. Like all those yearly resolution-makers out there, I want to be a better version of me. The best way I know to do that is not by making a list of goals of questionable attainability, but by paring down.

I am resolved to listen.

That's right: listen.

Just listen.

Listen to God when He calls me.

Listen to what my heart tells me.

Listen to what others are telling me by their words or actions.

Too many times, I run on autopilot: do this, go here, be that, change this. I am pulled in a lot of different directions, trying to do a lot and be a lot for a lot of people. I get distracted and my priorities get jumbled. I lose myself.

I am resolved to be still. I will be quiet. I will listen.

My hope is to turn off autopilot and do, go, be, change - whatever is needed - with renewed focus and genuine intention.

So, how am I going to do this?

The only way I possibly can: prayer.

"Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and do not lean on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge him, and he will make straight your paths." - Proverbs 3:5-6

Cash gift idea

So, here you are on Christmas Eve and you have that last gift to snag for a young person on your list ... hmmm ... what to do?

Money, my friends.

Cash = freedom, especially for young people. Freedom to save, spend or just blow it. From the pre-teen years on up through their 20s (and beyond, if we're being honest), kids want cash. They just do.

As a gift giver, though, cash is ... eh, boring. It's no fun to give.

... hands a 20 to nephew ... "Here, go buy yourself something real nice."

Blah.

Recently, I was faced with this conundrum myself. My son was participating in a gift exchange among his cousins. He drew his awesome, wonderful 15-year-old male cousin's name. There was a $20 limit on the gift.

"What do you want to get him?" I asked my son.

"Cash. He's going to want cash, Mom."

Boring.

Not liking that answer, we consulted with the parents to really gauge his heart's desire (at the $20 level) and they said the same thing: he wants cash. He will be 16 soon and he is saving for a car and all the things to go with it - like gasoline and fountain drinks from fast food drive-thrus that you actually do the driving through.

Not satisfied with just having one 15-year-old boy hand another 15-year-old boy a crisp 20 (though both 15-year-olds would have been cool with that), I sought help from the highest authority on how to package said 20 with flair: Pinterest.

Pinterest was too hard.

For example, a simple money tree, you know, where you hang singles from the branches? I'd have to hand craft a tree - a freaking tree of sorts - and then you know, hang the money.

Um, no.

There are a lot of people who are far more creative than I with much more time than I. I love, admire and respect you people. But I am not one of you people.

But there was inspiration.

Here's what I came up with. It can be used for any gift-giving occasion: birthdays, holidays, graduation, new home, new job, etc.

It involved the following: A wooden rolling pin ($3 at Walmart), a small cookie sheet ($1 at Dollar Tree), clear packing tape and a 20 dollar bill. And the thought: rolling the dough.

I taped the rolling pin to the cookie sheet with the packing tape so it would not shift or move, typed up a little note and then lightly taped the money using regular Scotch tape.

Here it is:

It fit in a shirt box so I could even wrap it up and he would have something to open.

Detail showing where I used the clear tape to adhere the rolling pin and note. Don't use packing tape to adhere the money; it is lightly taped with regular tape rolled on the back.

"I hope you're rolling in the dough so you can save up for a sweet ride." Get it? ;)

What will a 15-year-old boy do with a wooden rolling pin? No idea. But it made him smile and got him $20 closer to whatever his heart desires this Christmas.

And that is what it's all about, my friends.

Merry Christmas!

PS - The photo at the top of this post is of my son's stocking, so, spoiler alert if you read this, Son: there's $20 in your stocking. You're welcome.

Ready for Christmas

So ... you done with your Christmas shopping yet?

How many times have you been asked that in the last few weeks? Before Thanksgiving it was probably phrased more along the lines of, "So ... have you started your Christmas shopping yet?" but it's been a conversation starter all season in one form or another.

It's a valid question this time of year. Knocking out that gift list is an endeavor, no matter how long - or short - the list. And let's face it, it's crunch time, people. Tick-tock.

Sure, asking about holiday shopping can just be small talk, just like innocuous conversations about the weather or the score of the game last night. The material aspect of the holidays is part of our culture. To ignore it, is to play dumb.

But asking someone a seemingly inoffensive question about his or her shopping progress can also feel like a measuring stick of sorts. It can  reveal more about our celebration than whether or not we scored a sweet parking spot at the mall, how long the checkout line was at Target, or if we'll redeem our Kohl's Cash on slippers for Dad.

It can feel like you're really asking things like:

• How much money do you have to spend?
• How organized are you?
• Do you have a lot of people in your life to buy for?
• Are you loved?
• How much do you care about the people in your life based on the amount you will spend?
• How much spirit do you have?

Those questions don't feel much like Christmas at all, do they?

A simple little question about shopping that I, myself, have asked about 100 times in the last few weeks, can leave some feeling anxious or judged. That's not Christmas at all.

I'm late to the game for this season, but am going to try something more along the lines of, Are you ready for Christmas?

• Are you ready for a fresh start?
• Are you ready for redemption?
• Are you ready for miracles?
• Are you ready to own your life?
• Are you ready to accept peace and love?

Because when it comes down to it, no matter how big the stack of garbage bags filled with torn wrapping paper and broken-down shirt boxes you have sitting curbside for trash pick-up Friday*, Christmas is more than a to-do list to be checked-off; more than a stash of receipts.

The best gifts of Christmas - love, acceptance, attention, friendship - are purchased in full with an open heart, and acts of loving kindness.

* Please recycle!

It's ok

Thanksgiving is gone. Was it ever really here? Seems it was just Halloween and then magically - commercially, at least - Christmas.

Still, there is much for which to be thankful. In fact, I always feel thankful, no matter what the season. When asked to describe myself in one word, I always respond with, "grateful." Thanksgiving is the official holiday of gratitude, but for me, my level of appreciation soars at Christmas.

So, as we make that transition from autumn toward winter, harvest to Advent, Thanksgiving to Christmas - I find myself feeling ... eh, kind of meh about it all.

That's not like me.

I love Christmas. It tickles my heart: the music, the cheery decor and the long, cozy nights. I like the challenge of finding gifts and treats for the special people in my life, and the thrill of making it happen within a reasonable budget. I feel good about sharing with others; reaching out to those who could use a hand.

I anticipate the Christmas season just like a child, counting down the days, savoring the wait. To me, Christmas is all the superficial things like twinkle lights and beautifully wrapped presents and 4,000 versions of Jingle Bell Rock on the radio - and it's also so much more. It becomes a manifestation of my grateful heart, truly a season of renewal and hope.

And as I get ready to flip the calendar to its last page, I find myself feeling ... empty.

Is it ok to not feel excited about the Christmas season yet?

Is it ok to feel that way and not understand why?

Is it ok to go through the motions - decorating, treat making, shopping - in hopes that joy will eventually bubble up and gush forth like it usually does much sooner than now?

Is it ok to be like this?

Yes. It's ok.

No matter what the calendar says, or how many poorly executed Hallmark Channel movies are on constant rotation, or how many tired standards the radio stations play ad nauseam, or how many better-than-Black-Friday sales the retailers push, the truth, for me at least, is that Christmas is a matter of heart.

And it's ok if my heart isn't feeling it yet.

At first, I felt a little worried - what's wrong with me? - that perhaps my lack of Christmas spirit meant a lack of gratitude. It's a slippery slope once we start taking the blessings in our lives for granted. Truth is, there's so much pressure from all around to love, love, love Christmas at the very first available moment. It's the freaking most wonderful time of the year, and that time of the year begins earlier and earlier ... and the weight of getting on board with that can leave a soul feeling hollow.

So I've decided it's ok. It's ok to not have the spirit yet. It's ok to be just be how I am in the moment because I know moments like these will pass.

And there's still time for the spirit to arrive, and it's ok to wait for it to come to me instead of me grasping for it.

Heck, it's not even December yet.

Beautiful

I am beautiful.

Does that sound bold to you? It is a bold thing to say about oneself. For a long time I would never have said it for fear of sounding conceited, egotistical, vain, self-important.

Delusional.

My trepidation doesn't change the fact I am beautiful.

I know mine is not a conventional beauty, the kind reflected in Barbie dolls, fashion mags, music videos or in leading ladies on the screen.

I am unique. Damaged. Vulnerable. Imperfect.

Yet, beautiful.

You might disagree with me and that's ok. What you think of me is really none of my business. You might be appalled at this straight-forward acknowledgement. I don't care.

You might only see the fullness of my face and think, "She's fat."

You're right; I am fat.

I am also tall, funny, intelligent, talented, sarcastic, generous, caring, impatient, over committed ... a lot of working, shifting parts.

None of which detracts from my beauty.

Mine is a life lived fully. I eat a slice of cake on birthdays, have a glass of wine with friends, indulge in Christmas cookies, share meals with my family at holidays, have a beer with my husband on a Friday night. I built this body with every bite, every choice. This body made a family.

It bears scars, visible proof of pain and survival. I am not ashamed of that.

I am beautiful because of it.

While I make the bold statement about my beauty, please understand I do not always feel it; don't always see it. I still have insecurities and some days feel more lovely than others.

Yet that doesn't change the fact that my beauty is true. Every day.

My journey to self-acceptance has been difficult. Maybe I haven't reached it quite yet. There have been many along the way who have sought - and still seek - to convince me that I am somehow inferior on the outside and inside. Those voices can ring quite loudly.

Sometimes the loudest voice has been my own.

More compelling, however, is love and acceptance. You see, my son deserves a mother who is confident and assured. He deserves a positive female role model who doesn't shrink from the challenges of this world, even if those challenges are her own insecurities. He needs to see real women as they are; not as society would have them be.

And I have a husband, a lifelong partner, whose opinion matters and deserves to be respected. He loves me just as I am. He neither wants nor merits a wife who wishes she were living in a different reality than the one we have created together. I don't pine for past youthful perfection or some future envisioned improvement. He gets the here and now, and it is wildly imperfect.

And beautiful.

On the flipside of conceit is how truly humble I feel. Regardless of what anyone thinks - positive or negative - is this ultimate fact: I am a child of God. I am beautiful by his grace and love. It is His voice that rings truer than all.

And it tells me I am beautiful.

It also tells me you are beautiful, too.

I don't even need to see you. Maybe I've never met you. I know in my heart you have beauty from within and without.

You don't need to post selfies in hopes others will validate you. Don't fish for assurances to the contrary when you sheepishly declare, "I'm so fat." Or, "I wish I still looked like I did when I was 28."

Just know it. Accept God's love and grace for you just as you are, right now at this very flawed, ridiculous moment. Live it; feel it.

It is a thing of beauty.

"I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made. Wonderful are your works; my soul knows it very well." - Psalm 129:14

... and then it was November

It's been well over a week since Halloween swept in and out in the whisk of a broom.

There were plenty of treats.

Oreo truffle eyeballs

Choc-dipped pretzel monster fingers

And tricks.

The weather proved to be the biggest trickster of all. There was rain. Then came the cold. Like, I-can't-feel-my-ass cold. Then blow-the-hat-off-a-witch's-head wind.

Then it snowed.

Snowed. In October. For the first time in 21 years.

And then it was November.

And apparently Christmas.

While we're not celebrating Christmas just yet at our house, it's on the radio, on TV and in all the stores already, well ensconced since Halloween or even before. Holiday lights twinkle from neighborhood homes.

Already.

Our garage is full of Halloween décor yet to be processed and put away. We are not even thinking about Christmas yet.

I don't want Christmas to totally slap me in the face the day after Thanksgiving, but this autumn has been fun, hectic and lovely and I am not ready to hand it over to jingling bells just yet.

Besides, it's still November. And we will do November-y things like mulch fallen leaves, put the gardens to bed, buy new long-sleeved shirts for an ever-growing teen, attend all sorts of band and church events, spend time with friends, enjoy the fleeting fall temps ...

And panic.

It's already November ... and Christmas is just a month away.

21 years and then some

 

Last week, my husband and I celebrated our 21st anniversary.

[That's 26 years together - total - in case you're keeping track]

As I mentioned in my last post, I've been busy lately, as has he, and we haven't really spent much time together as a couple.

It's ok; we're ok. After 21 years, we do not have to smother one another in order to know we love one another. It goes without saying, though we do a good job of saying it often.

Still, a girl needs some attention from her best fella from time to time, and an anniversary would seem like a given for date night.

It wasn't.

He had to work. So did I, actually, but our work schedules are opposite shifts. I barely saw him that morning as he came home and I headed out the door. And barely saw him that afternoon as I came home and he headed out the door.

I spent my 21st wedding anniversary on the couch eating Chinese take-out with my teen son.

Not terrible. But not at all romantic.

We don't give much in the way of gifts after all these years - except for last year, our 20th, when he totally surprised me - but in those passing moments last week, however, we did manage to make an impact.

He had a huge bouquet of sunflowers for me. Nearly a week later, their sunny, open faces still make me smile when I see them. Perfect.

He is more difficult to buy for than I am, especially when we agreed to skip gifts for each other anyway. Still, I couldn't let the day pass with some sort of sweet gesture for such a sweet guy.

I put together a little treat for him to take to the office with him, a box full of candy that he likes with the note, For my Sweetie.

In it, I placed bags of candy with handwritten notes:

• Hershey chocolate bars: Something rich ... because we are rich in blessings
• Snickers: Something nutty ... because I'm nuts about you
• Mint M&Ms: Something minty ... because we're so cool
• Dove chocolates: Something smooth ... because we still got it

Yes, that last one was intentionally dorky and it made him chuckle because we are the opposite of smooth. Actually, it was all dorky and made him smile. And tear right into the chocolate as we sat there, abandoning me for the evening in a pile of Snicker wrappers.

Two days later, we were able to get together for an afternoon stroll and dinner. We held hands. We talked about nothing important, just rambling conversation. We smiled at each other, genuinely glad to be together in that moment, for that moment.

And then my son texted, ready to be picked up from his band trip and we were slammed back in parent mode.

That's ok. Sometimes it only takes little time, a little attention to tide you over. Besides, marriage isn't about one special day a year. It's about all 365 days ... x 21, + lots more to come.

[x 26 + lots more to come - total - in case you're keeping track]