I started to post a few days ago about Christmas--about why I love it, about my traditions, about what I've learned in the last year or two about celebrating.
It wasn't quite working out. I almost gave up. But then I went back and looked closely.
I found that all I really wanted to do was tell you about my Grandma. Forget that other stuff.
It is probably too soon for me to write about this and it won't be tidy. It may not even make sense.
But I'm going to do it anyway.
I hope you don't mind.
* * * * *
Christmas was my grandma's favorite holiday and she celebrated it so well, she made it mine, too.
As a child, I remember waking
up Christmas Eve, frosting Mom's sugar cookies then counting down the hours, the
minutes, the seconds until Grandma's house. We'd eat lots of food (she always made too much) and then we'd open gifts.
If you watch one of our many home videos from such occasions, you will observe a sort of organized chaos.
Grandma always made the oldest grandkids pass out gifts, (which, as second-oldest, I secretly loved), so there are shouts of "Marie! Marie! This one's for you. This ONE'S FOR YOU!!!" and loud, inquisitive, slightly-panicked "Grandma! Grandma! What does this say?!" and impatient thrusting of gifts to aunts and uncles "Give this to Uncle Gene. UNCLE GENE."
Then we'd settle in with our packages and let 'er rip. In a cloud of tissue paper and paper boxes (which were to be carefully unwrapped and used again next year), you really can hear the squeals of excitement.
I know it sounds like we were spoiled--and we were--but none of our gifts were really that extravagant. We got the usual fare of skirts, sweatshirts, trucks and dolls.
But they were all for us, from Grandma (and Grandpa...but we all knew he spent shopping trips sipping coffee in the food court), and somehow that fact alone made them special. Even if they weren't the name brand (and they usually weren't).
One December, after a few years had passed, Grandma sat us all down and said, "Now, kids, you're all getting older and just too hard to buy for. There will be no more big gifts. But I have this idea..." and a new tradition was born. The
grab bag!
All year, Grandma would stalk the drug store aisles for little
items--batteries, socks, games, wallets, even underwear. She'd throw a party for
her friends and they'd help her wrap all the gifts ("...and then we'd play
chicken-foot," I can hear her say with a chuckle.).
On Christmas Eve, she'd haul out the bins of wrapped, unmarked gifts and
each grandkid would take turns digging around, feeling for anything lumpy (underwear), heavy (flashlight), or jingly (change taped to a pack of gum). Then we'd open one...and then another...and at the end
we'd barter our loot.
It was silly. It was the sort of thing that at face value may
sound weird. But it quickly became a much-anticipated tradition. Who would open
the underwear this year? Who would walk away with the most $2 bills? Who would
trade a pack of cards for a scarf?
She loved it. We loved it. We loved her. She somehow managed to keep the
excitement and anticipation alive in a bunch of teenagers. What a feat!
I have found myself thinking about her a lot this season--especially when passing those ridiculous singing toys that move and shake while blaring a warbly version of 'Jingle Bells'. She loved those things.
I've been thinking about her and tradition and loss and celebration. And how to celebrate in the midst of loss and how to hold on to tradition despite change in time and circumstance.
About how to rejoice in a time of "great joy" when you feel like crap. About how to find hope when things seem hard and big and ugly and a bit scarier then you'd like to admit.
I've been thinking about all of these things because Grandma isn't here to celebrate Christmas at all anymore...so now what?
I was driving home the other day and heard this song (last
track) and I guess for me--for reasons I can't quite articulate, can't really even understand--this year
especially, it is Christmas.
I can't tell you that next year your troubles will be miles away. I
won't ask you to rock around a Christmas tree. I don't expect you to belt
out joy to the world, especially if this is one of those hurting years.
Yet--
Still, still, still...
--despite the big things, the scary things, the disappointment, hurt,
bitterness, anger, hardship, struggle, strife--
...one can hear the falling snow.
And together, broken, perhaps knocked down even, but
not destroyed, we
...dream, dream, dream of the Joyous day to come.
Merry Christmas, friends.
12.22.2011
11.29.2011
These days:
...are memory-makers and as we squeezed around the borrowed table, elbow to elbow, it was a good kind of crowded. And I gave thanks in a knowing, deeper way that could not be said a year ago. And we made room for new traditions.
...are celebratory and I shamelessly turn my Christmas music up and sip eggnog and eat pecan pie for breakfast and watch Elf and start my days with this. And we get pine needles on our car seat and have a makeshift tree topper but who cares? And Adam strums the guitar and says, "We have a lot of fun together," and I enjoy that truth immensely.
...are a tug of war and it is hard to keep perspective in a world noisy of SALE! BUY NOW! and I get distracted. And it's difficult to strike a balance without feeling bitter or overwhelmed or judgmental or guilty and I read some timely words about giving thanks and consumption. And I'm still figuring it out.
...won't last and I think about Story and character and conflict and risk and hope and wonder how my perspective will change as the chapters progress. And I think about legacy and my delight at finding Grandma's handwriting in Mom's recipe box this weekend and I wonder what all of it means.
...are celebratory and I shamelessly turn my Christmas music up and sip eggnog and eat pecan pie for breakfast and watch Elf and start my days with this. And we get pine needles on our car seat and have a makeshift tree topper but who cares? And Adam strums the guitar and says, "We have a lot of fun together," and I enjoy that truth immensely.
...are a tug of war and it is hard to keep perspective in a world noisy of SALE! BUY NOW! and I get distracted. And it's difficult to strike a balance without feeling bitter or overwhelmed or judgmental or guilty and I read some timely words about giving thanks and consumption. And I'm still figuring it out.
...won't last and I think about Story and character and conflict and risk and hope and wonder how my perspective will change as the chapters progress. And I think about legacy and my delight at finding Grandma's handwriting in Mom's recipe box this weekend and I wonder what all of it means.
11.04.2011
Shrug.
Do you ever have weeks where you are just...off?
You try and try, but just can't get it together?
(Please say yes.)
In terms of seasons, this is one of learning. I would argue that each season is full of learning in some form or another, but this is one of actively trying to figure out how to live life with another human (oh, hi husband!) and learning What We Are About and What We Are Not About. It is also learning what I am About as a We and what He is About as a We. And how He can be He and I can be Me while We are being a We.
Something like that.
...Anyone still with me?
Anyway, I am learning a lot and I would be lying if I said we've got it all figured out.
(For some reason I just got a mental image of my parents reading this after almost 30 years together and laughing like little girl, if you think you'll ever have it all figured out, you've got another thing coming. --Not in a mean way, just in a let's-be-honest kind of way. And also in a you-have-always-been-such-a-perfectionist-just-relax kind of way. Point taken.)
Weeks like this try to teach me patience and maybe even a little bit of grace..over and over and over again.
You might be reading this and think that I mean patience and grace with my husband, and while I am learning that too, I'm really just talking about patience and grace with myself.
That's a hard thing to come by these days. I really mean that. I know so many people who feel they must be this or that and just canNOT be this or that...but what I am thinking the whole time they are talking is, "What?! You want to be like HER?! She is great! But you can do this and this and this...let's see HER do that!"
(These sentences are getting crazy. I better end this, and fast!)
((Drat! Too many parentheticals!!!))
The point is, I do not have it figured out.
I cannot do this or this or that...but I am doing this and this and that. And sometimes, I am really good at this or that. (But usually not both at the same time. Especially when I am busy comparing myself to you or you or you over there.)
I do not know what I am doing.
But I am trying.
And that is okay.
p.s. This Sunday is Daylight Savings. Fall BACK=get another hour! WOOHOO! Also it means I will stop calling my b-f-f- Katie who doesn't live in a Daylight Savings Time Zone and who has to every time say, "Yes, Sara, we are TWO HOURS apart. STILL." I mean really, who can remember that?!
You try and try, but just can't get it together?
(Please say yes.)
In terms of seasons, this is one of learning. I would argue that each season is full of learning in some form or another, but this is one of actively trying to figure out how to live life with another human (oh, hi husband!) and learning What We Are About and What We Are Not About. It is also learning what I am About as a We and what He is About as a We. And how He can be He and I can be Me while We are being a We.
Something like that.
...Anyone still with me?
Anyway, I am learning a lot and I would be lying if I said we've got it all figured out.
(For some reason I just got a mental image of my parents reading this after almost 30 years together and laughing like little girl, if you think you'll ever have it all figured out, you've got another thing coming. --Not in a mean way, just in a let's-be-honest kind of way. And also in a you-have-always-been-such-a-perfectionist-just-relax kind of way. Point taken.)
Weeks like this try to teach me patience and maybe even a little bit of grace..over and over and over again.
You might be reading this and think that I mean patience and grace with my husband, and while I am learning that too, I'm really just talking about patience and grace with myself.
That's a hard thing to come by these days. I really mean that. I know so many people who feel they must be this or that and just canNOT be this or that...but what I am thinking the whole time they are talking is, "What?! You want to be like HER?! She is great! But you can do this and this and this...let's see HER do that!"
(These sentences are getting crazy. I better end this, and fast!)
((Drat! Too many parentheticals!!!))
The point is, I do not have it figured out.
I cannot do this or this or that...but I am doing this and this and that. And sometimes, I am really good at this or that. (But usually not both at the same time. Especially when I am busy comparing myself to you or you or you over there.)
I do not know what I am doing.
But I am trying.
And that is okay.
p.s. This Sunday is Daylight Savings. Fall BACK=get another hour! WOOHOO! Also it means I will stop calling my b-f-f- Katie who doesn't live in a Daylight Savings Time Zone and who has to every time say, "Yes, Sara, we are TWO HOURS apart. STILL." I mean really, who can remember that?!
10.31.2011
Turn, turn, turn.
I got to hear from one of my favorite teachers yesterday. He is a Ugandan bishop who blesses our church with his presence now and then. He is able to speak challenging words while grinning ear to ear. My mother-in-law heard him for the first time yesterday and said, "There is just something about him...some light about him..." and I agreed wholeheartedly.
He does not know me by name (though I think he would know my husband by name so maybe it counts as proxy?). I have only heard him a few times in my life. And maybe it's just because it is fresh in my brain but yesterday, his words seemed especially meaningful to me personally.
He was speaking about the seasons of life--both seasons in the natural world (fall, spring, summer, winter, rain, drought, etc.) and of our own individual lives. Of course, he mentioned this passage which made me think of this song and thus, I have had The Byrds in my head all day (and because we have been watching The Wonder Years lately, I keep waiting for Kevin's narrating voice to pop in).
Anyway, he was talking about making the best of each season as it comes. It's not that hard to apply this idea of seasons changing to one's life in theory, especially when the weather is turning ever cooler.
But even at the most basic level, this change does not always come easy.
Take me, for example. I inherited a very deep burning hatred for cold weather (thanks Dad!). I do not like it. I am a warm weather person through and through.
And, more than that, I do not even allow myself to face the reality that the season has changed. Spring has passed. Summer is gone. It is fall. (And soon it will be winter.)
I had to laugh as Bishop Zac remarked on attitudes such as mine. "Take today, for example," he said, in reference to the (mercifully!) warmer temperatures outside as the sun shone in, "People are wearing flip-flips maybe and even shorts, saying, 'It feels like summer outside!'...but it is not! It is fall! It is not summer! It is fall!"
(I apologize for my inability to capture his charming accent.)
It is fall.
This is not news to us. Quite clearly the natural world is changing--the light fades quickly in evening. Our heater is on. I dress in layers. Starbucks is carrying Pumpkin Spice Lattes.
And some of us (like my husband) claim to appreciate the fact that we get (get!) to experience all four seasons. How awesome! he says. (I say "claim" because then I remind him of the summer heat that makes him fussy...but his selective memory can remember no such thing.)
This is not the first time I've heard this message, even, or at least this idea.
But can I be honest and say that it has been a hard year? It has. For me. And for many dear to me. And thus, this message of "making the most" of a season should ring a bit hollow. For who can "make the most" of a horrible season? A time to dance is easy...what happens when it is a time to mourn? What of the seasons of drought, of strife?
I am not one to advocate a "grin and bear it" life nor even a "fake it 'til you make it" because if anything, I have learned this year especially, that in hard times, I need honesty and I need a community in which to be honest (or as honest as we let ourselves be with one another).
And maybe that is it. Maybe that is "making the most" of these seasons that are not fun, that are not ideal, that are not good in many ways and that leave us a bit bruised for awhile...the ability to come through. To survive it. To at the end, blink and say That was hard. But I am here. And look at all these people who walked through it with me!
For me, that season has passed. And yes, hard times will come again, sure, but they are not now. And that gives me hope.
Maybe you are in a gut-wrenching season. Maybe it is your time to dance. Maybe your season seems unexceptional. Maybe yours is a smidge too cloudy for your taste.
Make the most of it! Bishop Zac would say.
...It is not the end of the story, I would like to add in a whisper.
For it is fall.
...and one day, it will be spring again.
He does not know me by name (though I think he would know my husband by name so maybe it counts as proxy?). I have only heard him a few times in my life. And maybe it's just because it is fresh in my brain but yesterday, his words seemed especially meaningful to me personally.
He was speaking about the seasons of life--both seasons in the natural world (fall, spring, summer, winter, rain, drought, etc.) and of our own individual lives. Of course, he mentioned this passage which made me think of this song and thus, I have had The Byrds in my head all day (and because we have been watching The Wonder Years lately, I keep waiting for Kevin's narrating voice to pop in).
Anyway, he was talking about making the best of each season as it comes. It's not that hard to apply this idea of seasons changing to one's life in theory, especially when the weather is turning ever cooler.
But even at the most basic level, this change does not always come easy.
Take me, for example. I inherited a very deep burning hatred for cold weather (thanks Dad!). I do not like it. I am a warm weather person through and through.
And, more than that, I do not even allow myself to face the reality that the season has changed. Spring has passed. Summer is gone. It is fall. (And soon it will be winter.)
I had to laugh as Bishop Zac remarked on attitudes such as mine. "Take today, for example," he said, in reference to the (mercifully!) warmer temperatures outside as the sun shone in, "People are wearing flip-flips maybe and even shorts, saying, 'It feels like summer outside!'...but it is not! It is fall! It is not summer! It is fall!"
(I apologize for my inability to capture his charming accent.)
It is fall.
This is not news to us. Quite clearly the natural world is changing--the light fades quickly in evening. Our heater is on. I dress in layers. Starbucks is carrying Pumpkin Spice Lattes.
And some of us (like my husband) claim to appreciate the fact that we get (get!) to experience all four seasons. How awesome! he says. (I say "claim" because then I remind him of the summer heat that makes him fussy...but his selective memory can remember no such thing.)
This is not the first time I've heard this message, even, or at least this idea.
But can I be honest and say that it has been a hard year? It has. For me. And for many dear to me. And thus, this message of "making the most" of a season should ring a bit hollow. For who can "make the most" of a horrible season? A time to dance is easy...what happens when it is a time to mourn? What of the seasons of drought, of strife?
I am not one to advocate a "grin and bear it" life nor even a "fake it 'til you make it" because if anything, I have learned this year especially, that in hard times, I need honesty and I need a community in which to be honest (or as honest as we let ourselves be with one another).
And maybe that is it. Maybe that is "making the most" of these seasons that are not fun, that are not ideal, that are not good in many ways and that leave us a bit bruised for awhile...the ability to come through. To survive it. To at the end, blink and say That was hard. But I am here. And look at all these people who walked through it with me!
For me, that season has passed. And yes, hard times will come again, sure, but they are not now. And that gives me hope.
Maybe you are in a gut-wrenching season. Maybe it is your time to dance. Maybe your season seems unexceptional. Maybe yours is a smidge too cloudy for your taste.
Make the most of it! Bishop Zac would say.
...It is not the end of the story, I would like to add in a whisper.
For it is fall.
...and one day, it will be spring again.
10.27.2011
Things you should know:
1. I am having a Very Good Day.
2. I PLUCKED A GRAY HAIR FROM MY HEAD THIS MORNING! (!!) ((!!!!!!!!))
3. I am trying not to let #2 trump #1.
4. I would like a good recipe that uses lentils, legumes, barley, quinoa...these sorts of things. Anyone?
5. I have one book, two Oprah magazines and two Cooking Light's on my desk. Overly ambitious/selfish? Maybe.
6. I made this on Monday and ate it with lots of friends. It was good. Time with friends was even better.
7. My husband used this word last night and I made him look it up. I was wrong. But seriously, who knew?! I think he got lucky.
8. We've been popping popcorn on the stove top for a snack. My favorite is adding butter + cinnamon + sugar. It is awesome. (It is not awesome when you think that you've closed the popcorn kernel bag and pick it up rather exuberantly only to discover that NOPE! Unopened! Kernel shower all over the kitchen floor!!! It was not awesome...but it was kind of funny.) Humor really makes life livable, you know?
9. We are watching a lot of this and while I love it, I have to confess that I've always kind of thought Winnie Cooper was super whiny/annoying. Also, did you know she is on book covers these days? True.
10. As I was zipping through the cafeteria at lunch today, I went to reach for a cup lid as a white-haired woman rounded the corner. She leaned in to me and said, shaking her head, "Everybody's in a hurry these days." "Yeah," I agreed with a smile. Funny how much Hurry you see when you look for it. Scary how much Hurry I have inside of me all the time...She made me miss my grandma.
2. I PLUCKED A GRAY HAIR FROM MY HEAD THIS MORNING! (!!) ((!!!!!!!!))
3. I am trying not to let #2 trump #1.
4. I would like a good recipe that uses lentils, legumes, barley, quinoa...these sorts of things. Anyone?
5. I have one book, two Oprah magazines and two Cooking Light's on my desk. Overly ambitious/selfish? Maybe.
6. I made this on Monday and ate it with lots of friends. It was good. Time with friends was even better.
7. My husband used this word last night and I made him look it up. I was wrong. But seriously, who knew?! I think he got lucky.
8. We've been popping popcorn on the stove top for a snack. My favorite is adding butter + cinnamon + sugar. It is awesome. (It is not awesome when you think that you've closed the popcorn kernel bag and pick it up rather exuberantly only to discover that NOPE! Unopened! Kernel shower all over the kitchen floor!!! It was not awesome...but it was kind of funny.) Humor really makes life livable, you know?
9. We are watching a lot of this and while I love it, I have to confess that I've always kind of thought Winnie Cooper was super whiny/annoying. Also, did you know she is on book covers these days? True.
10. As I was zipping through the cafeteria at lunch today, I went to reach for a cup lid as a white-haired woman rounded the corner. She leaned in to me and said, shaking her head, "Everybody's in a hurry these days." "Yeah," I agreed with a smile. Funny how much Hurry you see when you look for it. Scary how much Hurry I have inside of me all the time...She made me miss my grandma.
10.25.2011
No postponements.
I am flying through this book--almost too quickly, for I don't want it to end.
I am completely invested in the story she tells of her marriage. She writes after 40 years of being a "we"--an honest look back at the many seasons they weathered together and written the summer he is diagnosed with cancer.
I have dog-eared many pages, wanting to tuck away some of her wisdom for another day and at times, relating wholeheartedly with some truth she has woven into her heartfelt story.
The one that I want to share with you right now is a simple sentence--one that stuck out to me as I sipped my (very) early morning coffee and read greedily.
I hope one day it can describe this very season of our life as the Robertsons. I think that with continued intention (and maybe some purposeful weaving of spontaneity), it can.
We were living life as fully as possible. No postponements. -Madeleine L'Engle
(Of course, a similar sentiment was shared by this guy. Also, him. Couldn't help myself.)
I am completely invested in the story she tells of her marriage. She writes after 40 years of being a "we"--an honest look back at the many seasons they weathered together and written the summer he is diagnosed with cancer.
I have dog-eared many pages, wanting to tuck away some of her wisdom for another day and at times, relating wholeheartedly with some truth she has woven into her heartfelt story.
The one that I want to share with you right now is a simple sentence--one that stuck out to me as I sipped my (very) early morning coffee and read greedily.
I hope one day it can describe this very season of our life as the Robertsons. I think that with continued intention (and maybe some purposeful weaving of spontaneity), it can.
We were living life as fully as possible. No postponements. -Madeleine L'Engle
(Of course, a similar sentiment was shared by this guy. Also, him. Couldn't help myself.)
10.24.2011
Pause.
It's nice to get outta town now and then. Pack a bag (or five if you aren't sure what shoes you want to wear. I get it.). Hit the road. Breathe some new fresh air into your lungs and take it slow for a bit.
It was that kind of weekend for me--much anticipated, much needed. One of those that I'm not ready to let go of quite yet.
So if you'll excuse me, I think I'm going to let my mind linger a bit on the easy breezy life that was last weekend--Cinnamon roll for breakfast! Donuts for lunch! Free brewery tour (?!) Where to next? walks with my husband down sunny streets playing Remember when?...--and wrap myself in blissful oblivion so as not to see the chaos that inevitably finds us on that drive back home.
These times away can make life inconvenient, but man are they ever worth it.
It was that kind of weekend for me--much anticipated, much needed. One of those that I'm not ready to let go of quite yet.
So if you'll excuse me, I think I'm going to let my mind linger a bit on the easy breezy life that was last weekend--Cinnamon roll for breakfast! Donuts for lunch! Free brewery tour (?!) Where to next? walks with my husband down sunny streets playing Remember when?...--and wrap myself in blissful oblivion so as not to see the chaos that inevitably finds us on that drive back home.
These times away can make life inconvenient, but man are they ever worth it.
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