(Originally written Christmas 2007)
I heard recently that Sears has, after many years, re-released its historic holiday “Wish Book”. As children, my sister and I would spend thousands of hours, at least, paging through the catalog, circling each item that we absolutely had to have lest our young lives be traumatized from toy neglect! My sister’s picks were always nauseating little baby dolls complete with layette, bassinette, and stroller; my choices were more artistic – the Barbie® sewing machine (those glue cartridges were great on draperies!), paint sets, and electronic piano keyboards. I never did score an Easy Bake Oven, but one year my parents hit the jackpot and bought me a miniature drafting table and tracing patterns for all the Super Friends®!
When I was a high school sophomore, I was still drafting my Christmas list from the hallowed pages of the Wish Book, but by this time, I had graduated from toys to clothes, makeup, and hair accessories. As always, I dreamed of stacks of presents under our tree, and as I started making the requisite circles around each item that I so desperately craved, I hoped against hope that I would find under that tree the pink taffeta dress on page 472.
Ten days before Thanksgiving, my father had a heart attack.
My mother took my sister and me to the hospital (my brother was too young to visit). Dad was more tubes than person, and what bit of flesh we could see through the oxygen tent and IVs, was a mottled, pasty grey. The doctor said he had only 22% of his heart left, and frankly, he didn’t know why he was still alive. Later that night, our pastor came by our home with an emergency food box and spent time counseling and praying with us. All of a sudden, the Wish Book didn’t seem so important. At week’s end, my mother announced that due to our sudden change in financial circumstances (it doesn’t take long for hospital bills to pile up) we could choose one thing from the Wish Book, $20.00 or less.
On Christmas Eve, there were three presents under the tree. I unwrapped the soft and snuggly, multi-colored plaid scarf I had chosen and snuggled up in it. Dad was home now, and as was our family way, he turned on the Christmas lights and read to us the Christmas story from the Gospel of Luke. We made hot cocoa with marshmallows and put “White Christmas” in the VCR to watch together. By whatever miracle, we were still a family.
I never circled anything in the Wish Book again. But I wore that scarf every winter; every time I wrapped it around my neck and shoulders I would think of how blessed I was to have my daddy, who wasn’t supposed to have lived.
Daddy died nine years after that fateful heart attack; my scarf was stolen not too long afterwards. Over the years, as I’ve grown into myself and have decided what my own values in life are, Christmas lists haven’t been much of a priority. I don’t hit the stores the day after Thanksgiving. I don’t count shopping days until Christmas. Memories with family and friends, and a faith in God's love that brings joy and peace even in the hardest of times – these are the things that make Christmas magical to me.
As I face my fifteenth Christmas without Daddy, and without my scarf, I wrap myself in the memory of his smell, his voice, his hugs and kisses that I miss so much. And I seek to make Christmas a time of building memories with family and friends, and faith, so that when I too am gone, my children and grandchildren can wrap themselves in my memory and be blessed – not because of mountains of presents on Christmas morning, but because, by whatever miracle, we are a family.
Friday, December 25, 2009
Saturday, December 5, 2009
The Blessing of Chaos
This year, I've been reading a devotional made up of various writings by Madeleine L'Engle (Glimpses of Grace, in case you're interested). A few days ago, I came across one of her poems that touched me so deeply, I just want to share it with you. It just seems so appropriate to remember that even though our world is full of absolute chaos, terror, and, dare I say, stupidity, it was into a world just like this that God incarnated Himself, so He could experience that same chaos, terror, and stupidity, and extend His healing, calm, and wisdom to it, thereby beginning the process of redeeming all things, bringing them all into one in Him. If you're feeling chaotic, afraid, or even stupid (one of my more frequent feelings), remember - it's in the middle of that mess that the Father is most at work. Happy Advent!
FIRST COMING
He did not wait till the world was ready,
till men and nations were at peace.
He came when the Heavens were unsteady,
and prisoners cried out for release.
He did not wait for the perfect time.
He came when the need was deep and great.
He dined with sinners in all their grime,
turned water into wine. He did not wait
till hearts were pure. In joy he came
to a tarnished world of sin and doubt.
To a world like ours, of anguished shame
he came, and his Light would not go out.
He came to a world which did not mesh,
to heal its tangles, shield its scorn.
In the mystery of the Word made Flesh
the Maker of the stars was born.
We cannot wait till the world is sane
to raise our songs with joyful voice,
for to share our grief, to touch our pain,
He came with Love: Rejoice! Rejoice!
Friday, December 4, 2009
What's This Supposed To Feel Like?
Today I am 40 years old. I think this is what people consider the beginning of middle age. I don't feel any different than I did yesterday, and I certainly don't look 40 (or so people tell me), so I'm really not sure what to think.
I remember when I turned 18. I was a freshman at the University of Puget Sound, and made an absolute ninny of myself as I went to each of my friends and asked what they had gotten me for the big day. What a rude awakening when I found out that no one really cared. I sat in my dorm room and cried, wondering why there weren't fireworks and strobe lights, not understanding yet that the world just wasn't going to revolve around me.
21 years old...I was a student in Bible college, and, quite frankly, the most concerning thing to me was that at my age, I was no closer to marriage than I was at 2. Not that preparing for full-time ministry wasn't important, but if I was going to have 4 children (a boy, a girl, then boy/girl twins - yes, I had all my ducks not only in a row, but all wearing appropriate name tags) and have them all out of the house by the time I was 50, well, I had to be married by 22. I felt a horrible sense of impending doom because my best laid plans just weren't coming together.
25 years old...my "midlife crisis." My best friend was engaged, the ministry career I'd prepared for had blown up in my face, leaving bits of me all over the place, and I was starting over as a restaurant hostess in a tiny Oregon town. Wonderful, just wonderful. No title, no direction, and no hope for me. Woe was me at 25. I remember then that I made a list: "Things I want to do for God before I die: 1) Record an album; 2) Write a book; 3) Be a retreat speaker; 4) Lead women's praise and worship."
27 years old...I stood up with my best friend as she married her Prince Charming, and I just knew that I was a washed up old maid. That is, until I met my Prince Charming that year and married him before he had time to think better of it. With marriage came three kids; alas, no twins. 27 years old and parenting a 14, 13, and 9 year old; one might consider that I was now a bit ahead of my timeline! Establishing my piano studio, along with adjusting to family life, kept me in the throes of busy-ness and slight insanity (ask the kids - they'll tell you).
At 31 I went back to school; at 33 I finished the bachelor's degree I started at 17. At 34 we adopted a fourth child, a high school boy and foster youth whom we'd grown to love through our youth ministry. Kid number four came a few years late, but he was half-baked already so that made up for it. At 35, I woke up and realized that all the things I'd wanted to do with my life at 25 were not only not even started, but that at 35 I was just barely capable of considering them. One foot in the grave and none of my goals were even in sight.
At 36 I was both a retreat speaker and a praise & worship leader at the same retreat...check 2 boxes "DONE!"
37 brought both my husband and I to unemployment and losing our home. I spent the first three months of that year in utter shock, some days unable to get out of bed. Reciting the Lord's Prayer over and over and over and over again got me through some incredibly difficult days. But after those three months, I found myself working for Child Welfare Services in our new community, where I experienced an incredible (and do I mean incredible!) degree of favor, we found a church that brought healing to deep wounds, I found new best friends and somehow, I felt that life just might get better.
Three years later, I find myself halfway through a Master of Social Work program, and am enjoying the benefits of increasing tenure in our agency. Our eldest son married a beautiful girl this year, and our eldest daughter is marrying a wonderful man next year. The other two kids are also discovering the freedom - and challenges - of life as adults. Hmmm, I wanted all the kids out of the house by 50. I'm 10 years ahead! My husband is discovering new passion in the field of and completing a degree in anthropology. We have nestled into our church community, we've been accepted into community life and service, and the sorrows and challenges of yesterday have faded into the distance.
So what is this 40th birthday supposed to feel like? I like how my slightly older, sometimes wiser friend put it: "Welcome to your 40s! You're old enough for people to take you seriously, but young enough to completely change your life direction if you want." I like that, although I don't foresee changing my life any time soon (did I just jinx it?). If I had to put a feeling to this culturally significant birthday, though, I would say "I feel blessed." I feel blessed because I know that I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be. The trials of yesterday have prepared me for the challenges of today, challenges that even I can see myself surmounting. No, I haven't written a book (although I'm writing my thesis - is that the same thing?), and I haven't recorded an album (but I did record a vaudeville piece last month; it was on a CD), and I'm not a famous retreat speaker or worship leader, but my best friend and I are putting together a band to lead worship at synod assemblies and have been invited to plan and conduct a number of retreats coming up in the next few years. I suppose I could finish checking off my list, but who knows? I'm only 40 - there may be more opportunities to fulfill those things.
This is a bit of a babble, I know. Maybe it's more of a processing for me than a blessing for you. But I can honestly say to myself, "Happy Birthday, Hannah! Welcome to the best of the rest of your life."
Now, it's time for cake.
I remember when I turned 18. I was a freshman at the University of Puget Sound, and made an absolute ninny of myself as I went to each of my friends and asked what they had gotten me for the big day. What a rude awakening when I found out that no one really cared. I sat in my dorm room and cried, wondering why there weren't fireworks and strobe lights, not understanding yet that the world just wasn't going to revolve around me.
21 years old...I was a student in Bible college, and, quite frankly, the most concerning thing to me was that at my age, I was no closer to marriage than I was at 2. Not that preparing for full-time ministry wasn't important, but if I was going to have 4 children (a boy, a girl, then boy/girl twins - yes, I had all my ducks not only in a row, but all wearing appropriate name tags) and have them all out of the house by the time I was 50, well, I had to be married by 22. I felt a horrible sense of impending doom because my best laid plans just weren't coming together.
25 years old...my "midlife crisis." My best friend was engaged, the ministry career I'd prepared for had blown up in my face, leaving bits of me all over the place, and I was starting over as a restaurant hostess in a tiny Oregon town. Wonderful, just wonderful. No title, no direction, and no hope for me. Woe was me at 25. I remember then that I made a list: "Things I want to do for God before I die: 1) Record an album; 2) Write a book; 3) Be a retreat speaker; 4) Lead women's praise and worship."
27 years old...I stood up with my best friend as she married her Prince Charming, and I just knew that I was a washed up old maid. That is, until I met my Prince Charming that year and married him before he had time to think better of it. With marriage came three kids; alas, no twins. 27 years old and parenting a 14, 13, and 9 year old; one might consider that I was now a bit ahead of my timeline! Establishing my piano studio, along with adjusting to family life, kept me in the throes of busy-ness and slight insanity (ask the kids - they'll tell you).
At 31 I went back to school; at 33 I finished the bachelor's degree I started at 17. At 34 we adopted a fourth child, a high school boy and foster youth whom we'd grown to love through our youth ministry. Kid number four came a few years late, but he was half-baked already so that made up for it. At 35, I woke up and realized that all the things I'd wanted to do with my life at 25 were not only not even started, but that at 35 I was just barely capable of considering them. One foot in the grave and none of my goals were even in sight.
At 36 I was both a retreat speaker and a praise & worship leader at the same retreat...check 2 boxes "DONE!"
37 brought both my husband and I to unemployment and losing our home. I spent the first three months of that year in utter shock, some days unable to get out of bed. Reciting the Lord's Prayer over and over and over and over again got me through some incredibly difficult days. But after those three months, I found myself working for Child Welfare Services in our new community, where I experienced an incredible (and do I mean incredible!) degree of favor, we found a church that brought healing to deep wounds, I found new best friends and somehow, I felt that life just might get better.
Three years later, I find myself halfway through a Master of Social Work program, and am enjoying the benefits of increasing tenure in our agency. Our eldest son married a beautiful girl this year, and our eldest daughter is marrying a wonderful man next year. The other two kids are also discovering the freedom - and challenges - of life as adults. Hmmm, I wanted all the kids out of the house by 50. I'm 10 years ahead! My husband is discovering new passion in the field of and completing a degree in anthropology. We have nestled into our church community, we've been accepted into community life and service, and the sorrows and challenges of yesterday have faded into the distance.
So what is this 40th birthday supposed to feel like? I like how my slightly older, sometimes wiser friend put it: "Welcome to your 40s! You're old enough for people to take you seriously, but young enough to completely change your life direction if you want." I like that, although I don't foresee changing my life any time soon (did I just jinx it?). If I had to put a feeling to this culturally significant birthday, though, I would say "I feel blessed." I feel blessed because I know that I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be. The trials of yesterday have prepared me for the challenges of today, challenges that even I can see myself surmounting. No, I haven't written a book (although I'm writing my thesis - is that the same thing?), and I haven't recorded an album (but I did record a vaudeville piece last month; it was on a CD), and I'm not a famous retreat speaker or worship leader, but my best friend and I are putting together a band to lead worship at synod assemblies and have been invited to plan and conduct a number of retreats coming up in the next few years. I suppose I could finish checking off my list, but who knows? I'm only 40 - there may be more opportunities to fulfill those things.
This is a bit of a babble, I know. Maybe it's more of a processing for me than a blessing for you. But I can honestly say to myself, "Happy Birthday, Hannah! Welcome to the best of the rest of your life."
Now, it's time for cake.
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