Gut Check for Lent

One thing I’ve felt called to this Lent is to write more and to share more of what God is stirring up in my heart. I’ll be sharing reflections taken from my daily scripture readings and personal journaling. I’m not going to focus on sharing at times that will suit the algorithm or gain the most likes/follows/comments. I’m just planning to share when the spirit moves me and trust that the folks who need these words will come to them. I’m excited to share with you all and see where this goes. As always, thank you for taking time to read and for being here. You are such a gift to me and so eternally loved, my friends. -Mary Susan

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They seek me day after day, and desire to know my ways, like a nation that has done what is just and not abandoned the judgement of their God; they ask of me just judgements, they desire to draw near to God.

“Why do we fast, but you do not see it? Afflict ourselves, but you take no note?”

See, on your fast day you carry out your own pursuits, and drive all your laborers. See you fast only to quarrel and fight and to strike with a wicked fist!

Isaiah 58:2-4

I’ve been spending time in Isaiah 58, pondering these words in ways I haven’t before, realizing that like most other things in life, I am guilty of making things about me. As we ease into the second week of Lent, many of us are refining our sacrifices, realizing the extent to which we’ll be challenged, reevaluating the offerings we’ve chosen, or maybe even still trying to finalize our “plan” for Lent. That’s all fine. It’s normal for Lent to begin with discomfort, frustration, doubt.

What I’m realizing is that, like many other unhealthy enneagram two’s/recovering codependents before me, my Lenten observances are often tainted by misguided motivations. And I think that’s what Isaiah is getting at here in chapter 58. Israel is seeking God, they genuinely want to know Him, to feel heard by Him, to have their sacrifice recognized by the Father…but they’re going about all of that on their terms alone. They’re checking off boxes, their fasting fueled by self-righteousness and judgement and God calls them out. It’s as if God says, “Okay, but why are you fasting? Is it to control others, to place judgement through your actions, to elevate yourself? Do you fast purely so your voice can be heard above your brother’s?”

And I have to ask myself the same questions. As I lean into this season of fasting, penance, and almsgiving, what are my motivations?

Do I sacrifice, offer myself, allow myself to be tread upon, take on the cloak of the martyr or victim as a way of making a point, drawing attention to how “good” I am while punishing everyone in my path with a bad attitude and critical demeanor? Am I loudly suffering, taking on guilt that is not my own so that I might publicly complain or lord it over others?

Is my sacrifice and fasting merely an outlet for my resentment or do I act in true humility and obedience to the Lord? Am I using my penance as a passive aggressive way to make a statement to someone in my life about behavior I don’t approve of or do I fast to achieve a specific “level” of holiness?

I must be careful that I am not using my sacrifice as a weapon, a measuring stick, a blinder that enables my pride and judgement. It’s a normal aspect of human nature to want to see where we measure up to the rest of the pack. But in that measurement, it’s easy to drift into the dangerous waters of comparison, to elevate ourselves above our brothers, to use our “holiness” as a way to make a statement about who we are rather than what God is doing in us.

So, what’s the answer here? Where can I find true communion with the Lord during this complicated season of Lent? What do I do if I realize that my motives are less than ideal?

It’s important to remember that Lent is not a contest. There is no Lent Police roaming about looking for people who aren’t “doing it right.” Each person’s Lenten observance is intimate and personal. We shouldn’t approach Lent like the Pharisees in the Bible, eager to look the part but stinted in our actual observance of God’s law. What we should do is offer grace to others. In my experience, the surest way to reorient myself to God is through service to others.

If you remove the yoke from among you, the accusing finger and malicious speech; If you lavish food on the hungry and satisfy the afflicted; Then your light shall rise in the darkness and your gloom shall become like midday; Then the Lord will guide you always and satisfy your thirst in parched places, will give strength to your bones and you shall be like a watered garden, like a flowing spring whose waters never fail.”

Isaiah 58:9b-11

Oh, my heart longs for that satisfaction from the Lord. When all of life feels like perpetual Lent and I’m asked to give more, offer more, sacrifice even more, I desperately desire my thirst to be satisfied, my bones strengthened. A watered garden sounds like paradise right now and that satisfaction only comes from a pure offering of myself to the other.

What am I yoked by? By comparison, by competition, by quick judgement, dehumanization of others. The media to which I am addicted is peppered with accusing fingers and malicious speech. Scrolling leaves me dissatisfied and disgruntled, horrified by “those” people and stuck deep in my own judgmental mire.

Who are the hungry I am called to lavishly feed? Who are these afflicted I am asked to satisfy? The poor, the lonely, the imprisoned, the children in my midst who just long to be listened to; the people in my life hungry for acceptance, not conditional on certain beliefs or behaviors, but acceptance just as they are.

I am not Christ. I cannot satisfy these needs on my own, but I can speak love to the widowed and the orphans of the Church. I can offer the lonely a seat at my table and set aside my own version of what’s best to allow the people in my life to be who God created them to be. I can sacrifice voicing my opinions and make space for the words of others. I can lay down my expectations and receive both complicated people and challenging circumstances as gift. I can give monetarily to people in need, regardless of whether or not they align perfectly with my worldview. So many are starving for affection. I can lavish love on them. I can.

It is only in that lavishing love that I will be able to see the light break through the gloom. It is only through making sacrifices that are not about me, but about loving Christ in others that I will have my own thirst quenched. It is only in recognizing the belovedness of my brother that I will gain eyes to see my own belovedness. I am strengthened by carrying the cross of Christ, a weight which nourishes my soul rather than weighing me down like so many yokes I habitually strap myself to.

Father, heal my wounded heart, reorient all of my being to your most holy Sacred Heart. Nestle me there, that my sacrifice might not be motivated by a sick attempt at administering my own form of justice, but by a desire to be healed of my own disordered affections. Help me to remember that I am responsible for myself, that before I seek to judge my brother I am called to reorient myself to You. Lord, help me to submit myself to your most holy and perfect will, that I might offer sacrifice not on my terms, but on Yours. Break down the things in me that rebel agains You. Jesus, meek and humble of heart, make my heart like unto Thine. Amen.

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The Gift That Keeps on Giving

Time to dust of Ye Olde Blogue and clear away the cobwebs because I was given the most gloriously amazing gift ever of all time and I’d like to rub it in your faces. Or at least brag a little. Or really just invite you to join me as I continue to revel in the joy that this gift has been/continues to be to me.

Whatever, just look at what my husband got me for Valentine’s Day.

Y’all we do not really “do” Valentine’s Day. But my husband is both a gentleman and a scholar and he’s also one of those people with gift giving as a love language, so I am usually taken by surprise by him showering me with something awesome when I least expect it. I’m thinking that maybe, just maybe, in the next 12 years of our marriage I’ll figure out that when we say we’re not exchanging gifts we don’t really mean it.

So aaaanyway, we’re still super social distancing over here for a myriad of reasons, not the least of which is I’ve got to stay clean for the family and all my doula clients. (Shameless plug, I’ve got availability for late spring/early summer, so I am here for all your pandemic baby needs. Hit me up on my other neglected website.)

I’ve been real lonely is what I’m saying. Homeschooling has kept me busy and we’re all still loving it, but I pine for adult interaction and Mondays are so hard when my husband goes back to work and I’m left at home as the marshal of the Lord of the Flies parade.

Knowing all this, my husband gave me this thoughtfully designed pillow for Valentine’s Day:

There aren’t words.

Y’all, I pulled it out of the bag and couldn’t get past the eyes. I literally cackled so hard it scared the children and I had to sit down on the floor because I was so overcome.

_{Conveniently, the shirt he is wearing in the pillow matches the sheets! Really helps it blend in, no?}

I laughed so hard I cried…which then turned into a real cry, like a full on half-sobbing ugly cry, which is exactly what my nonemotional husband was going for, I’m sure. While this is maybe the most bizarre gift ever, I really needed it and he knew that, which is so sweet in a really weird way. Shoot, half of the beauty of this gift was the emotional pressure release I got from laughing/crying so hard. Apparently I was at Instantpot emotional pressure levels, so it felt good to let it all out, you know? (Also, yeah. I’m at the point in life where I’m comparing my feelings to my pressure cooker. We have a very complex and intimate relationship, okay?)

I cannot tell you the immense pleasure it brings me to walk past my bedroom and see that dumb face staring back at me. I mean, some women like jewelry, I guess, but as for me and my house we appreciate a giant face pillow to remind us we’re loved.

So, basically, this pillow is the greatest gift of all time and I cannot wait to grow old with it. I also cannot wait to use it to scare my children. That will offer years and years of fun. But I’m most excited to hang onto it forever and always so that when we’re old grandparents, we can casually leave it out on the couch as a throw pillow to make all of our progeny uncomfortable. I am giggling just thinking about it. Can you imagine going to visit your grandparents and on the sofa is a giant pillow of your grandfather’s face forever preserved in his mid-thirties?? “Don’t talk about the pillow, kids, you’ll just set your grandmother off again and her heart can’t take that much cackling.” I can’t wait. Oh gosh, or even having it out when the kids bring their boyfriends/girlfriends over to meet us for the first time?? Or when they bring anyone over ever??? I mean, regardless, I’ll be in my 80’s when any of this plays out, but I’m excited by the endless possibilities is what I’m saying.

I also feel like, if for some reason my horrible children don’t want it once we pass away, it’ll make a phenomenal estate sale find for a stranger. Either way it’s a win/win.

Now, for the curious among you, you can order your own such pillow here. Do note that my pillow is the medium size, so there are smaller and larger options depending on what kind of space you’re working with. The photo resolution is top notch, I must say, so don’t hesitate to order yours in the largest, creepiest size possible. Do note, that it’s double sided, so if for any reason one side of your face pillow is maimed, you can just flip it over and you’re good to go! Also, they’re made in the USA, so this is also a very patriotic gift that will stimulate our economy. You need one. You know you do.

_{Even the dog is a fan!}

We’ve also had the thought that the face is only the beginning. Vinnie mentioned to me that he’s considering making this a collectible situation where I’ll receive a new body part every year. You know, like those collectible Christmas villages or Precious Moments figurines where there’s only one new piece released every year and you have to get ’em while they’re hot or your set will be incomplete. So, if I don’t get the kneecap in ’25, I’ll be out of luck forever, doomed to check Ebay for an overpriced auction, constantly worried that I’m getting a fake and not a true original. What a life that would be. Obviously some parts will be super limited edition, if you know what I mean. (I had to go there in order to beat you cretins to the punch since I am well aware of the maturity level of my audience.)

Alright, I’m signing off before this devolves any further. Y’all go sit in your pit of jealousy while I go cuddle my giant husband face. Love you wonderful fools who keep reading this stuff. You’re all magnificent and I’m so grateful to have you in my corner. Happy Valentine’s Weekend…You are loved!

On Giving, On Receiving

We’re almost there, gang. It’s Christmas Eve Eve (historically noted as the longest day ever in the history of long days, especially if you are a child or the parent of small children). We’re *this* close to the culmination of all of our Advent waiting and there’s much hustle and bustle to finish up last-minute preparations.

All of that looks different this year, of course. Added to the anticipation of the holiday is some extra heartache and anxiety…you know, just to keep things spicy. It’s always easy to get caught up and swept away by this time of year and to lose focus of the bigger picture but this year has added stress in places most of us haven’t previously navigated. The shadow of the pandemic has created an environment of panicked searching of tracking numbers and shipping notifications. Many of us won’t be seeing our family and friends this holiday, so more emphasis is placed on exchanging gifts in a different way, more stress is put on the fear that things won’t make it in time, or there are too many gifts for one kid and not enough for the other one so now we have to take our lives into our hands and go back to Target, and why are we even doing a secret Santa this year anyway, and what’s even the point, and on and on and on.

To which I say, “Woah Nelly.”

Be still. Take a breath.

Let’s take a minute to break it down together and consider our relationship to giving and receiving in general.

Here’s what my pal, Henri, has to say.

A lot of giving and receiving has a violent quality, because the givers and receivers act more out of need than out of trust. What looks like generosity is actually manipulation, and what looks like love is really a cry for affection or support. When you know yourself as fully loved, you will be able to give according to the other’s capacity to receive, and you will be able to receive according to the other’s capacity to give. You will be grateful for what is given to you without clinging to it, and joyful for what you can give without bragging about it. You will be a free person, free to love.

Henri Nouwen

Okay, so why are we giving gifts? The obvious answer is that gift giving is a way to communicate love to one another. Taking the time to curate and research a lovely gift for someone is tangible proof of our thoughtfulness and consideration for them. Gosh that’s beautiful. It is such a good and valuable thing.

And yet.

As with many good and valuable things in our world, giving and receiving can so easily be twisted. Somehow what was initially a physical act of love toward our father-in-law becomes a competition with our spouse’s siblings. What was a way to show our boss how much we appreciate her becomes an opportunity to advance our career. What was meant to be a helpful gift becomes a physical manifestation of the way we think someone ought to be living their life. Worse, we often give out of obligation not real generosity, a motive that is easily communicated to the recipient.

The same goes with receiving. What was meant as a helpful gift from our parents is received as commentary on our lifestyle. That gift that is not equivalent to the one we offered is a physical manifestation of our value in the eyes of the giver. Perhaps we receive an extravagant gift and feel somehow less than, unworthy, or worse exploited. Did they really want to give me that huge present or are they using me to show off?

What was meant to be a good and beautiful thing for the other becomes about us: If he likes this gift enough, I’ll know that he’s really into me. If their gift is better than mine, my gift was not enough. I am not enough. If I give them this cleaning system, maybe they’ll actually take care of their home the right way. If the kids love these toys, they’ll love me. If they gave me this huge gift it means I will owe them something. I can’t accept that expensive thing because I don’t deserve it.

Deep breath.

Remember what’s true.

No amount of gifts or any signs of generosity can define us the way Christ does. Gifts do not serve to be trophies or monuments that prove our belovedness. They are, rather, tools to communicate that we see and love others right where they are.

Receiving an extravagant gift has nothing to do with our inherent value. It is not a commentary on our financial or social status. It shouldn’t challenge our view of our own worthiness. It is, perhaps, an opportunity to receive and by receiving, bless the giver. Allowing others to love us in the way that they are able is a gift in and of itself.

When we don’t feel worthy to receive a gift or don’t feel deserving of extravagance from loved ones, we must consider what “deserving” even means. None of us is getting what we deserve…at least I pray that we aren’t! We are all sinners, all fall short of the glory of God. Christ never gives us what we actually deserve, praise God. The entire point of Christmas is that we are given exactly what we do not deserve, the ultimate extravagant gift: salvation. So “deserving” shouldn’t really play into receiving gifts. It can be a humbling thing to receive a gift that we don’t feel worthy of. Let’s use it as an opportunity to embrace humility, remembering our Savior who offers us His precious body and blood specifically because we are not deserving.

The reaction of the recipient to our gift is not about us. We should give, not out of an expectation of approval from the person to whom we are giving, but purely to bless them and love them no strings attached. It sounds silly, but we need to give to one another with open hands. We need to give without expectation. Generosity doesn’t follow up two months later to see if they’re using that new Roomba properly or scan their social media posts to see if they’re sporting that new scarf. Generosity is giving with open hands, trusting that our identity and value does not rest in whether or not someone appreciates what we have to offer.

Whatever the next few days look like for you, I pray that you will take Truth deep into your core and settle into it. Giving and receiving are not about you. No pile of presents, no number of lost packages, late arrivals, or any offering that doesn’t quite hit the mark can touch the truth of who you are in the eyes of the Creator. You are good. Full stop. You are lovely and loved. Period. You are valuable and worthy just as you are, just where you are. So are the people you’re giving to this Christmas. The gift of yourself in all your imperfect humanity is the most beautiful offering you can give. Receiving the ugly, imperfect, confusing, frustrating humans in your life and loving them despite all that is receiving Christ’s call to us all.

I pray that we’ll all be able to give and receive with open hands this Christmas. My prayer as we round out this year is that we’ll find Him. In the absences at the table and the disappointments and the anxious fears about being good enough or making the right choice to travel or anger over how that uncle voted or worry that these people we’re related to don’t actually really know us, I pray that we will feel His presence.

He’s there. He really is. In the piles of wrapping paper and the beat up boxes that arrive three days late. In the sibling arguments and the absolutely awful presents, He’s there. He’s waiting for us. The baby will be born and laid in a manger and He’s waiting. He will grow up to be beaten, bruised, mangled, and murdered for us. He’s here in the midst of the hurt and the mess, in the giving and receiving of gifts, deeply present in these presents we’ve chosen that try to hijack our worthiness. He’s there quietly repeating the foundational truth of our belovedness: He came specifically for us. He chose this. He chose us.

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Merriest Christmas, my beautiful friends. You are so, incredibly loved.

Mary Susan

Mood Rings and Magic

My daughter has been begging for a mood ring. An introvert caught between a social director of an older sister and a baby brother/class clown beloved by all, she holds space sixteen months apart from the other family introvert. They huddle together like two sensitive little peas in the middle of the pod of four. 

She’s highly perceptive. She takes in so much about her surroundings, is an empath consistently tuned in to the needs of those around her. She feels deeply and she believes deeply. She’s always struggled to communicate her emotions, finding it difficult to articulate what’s going on in that beautifully complex heart of hers. Some days she’s prickly and reminds me of a cat. The more you want her to love you the more she makes you work for it and I kind of love that about her. Every day she is tender-hearted and quick to defend the underdog. She frequently defers to others, doing her best to keep the peace which is a pretty monumental task around here.

Simply put, the girl is magic. 

So, she wanted a mood ring. Had her heart set on the glory that would come when she didn’t have to verbalize her mood, but could simply flash a ring, and the people around her would just know. 

She had it all planned out, already counting on the convenience, the time saved, the anxiety relieved from having the magical ability to just show a ring instead of having to grapple with her feelings and express them to the people around her. She was counting on the power of the mood ring, so when she got not one, but five, shiny new rings in her boot for St. Nicholas day, she was thrilled. 

She tried them on, reveled in the truth that it was blue proving that she was happy! She looked up all of the colors’ meanings, working hard to decipher the intricacies of the ring and plumb the depths it would reveal.

And then her helpful older sister told her how mood rings work. 

The spell was broken. She was crushed. She was angry and annoyed, but didn’t let it ruin her day. However the disappointment was still there, simmering under the surface, lying in wait until the tenderness of bedtime broke the dam. 

Gracious, it’s hard to be 8. It’s hard to believe in magic when the world is out to prove you wrong. It’s harsh and humiliating to have believed and to have the rug ripped right out from under you, to have put all your eggs in a basket of hope only to have them dashed by reality. 

First mood rings go and then fairies. Before you know it, it’s Santa Claus and humanity as a whole. 

We’ve been studying the catechism together, this sweetheart girl and I. We go over the questions and ponder the mysteries of our faith on the most fundamental levels.

As I work to teach her about our faith, I can’t help but see all the ways we humans long for easy. We’ve evolved to look for ways to expedite, to simplify, to cut corners, to avoid the work. But what we can do for assembly lines and long distance dissemination of information, we can’t do with our hearts. There’s no escape from the messiness of the human condition, no magic ring to make it easier to be a human being with a broken heart living in a broken world. Sometimes we just have to do the work. 

But still we cling to the hope that there’ll be a quick fix. And the world is only too happy to offer any number of potential solutions for us. And just like gullible children, we believe the promises the world offers every single time. We buy the magic pill because it’s so alluring. It seems easier to cover our pain with a better body, with new shoes, with the right fill-in-the-blank. If we eat these Oreos or drink this cocktail, if we purchase this workout system, or watch the porn we’ll feel better quick and then things will be fine. It’s easier to patch our pain up with a bandaid than to do the hard work of actually finding healing. We’ll be comfortable without having to delve into the ick of our humanity. Easy peasy.

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But God doesn’t want fine for us. He doesn’t want easy because he created us for more. And the mind boggling paradox is that while there’s no easy fix, there is magic. I don’t mean the cheap version of magic that the world tries to pass off in mood rings and quick fixes, or even the magic ball, cast-a-spell, witchy kind of magic that seems fun on the screen. I mean that deep kind of C.S. Lewis eternal magic that I believe pulses through the world: the magic of light and goodness and beauty and truth. Truth that outshines mood rings and empty promises. Truth that offers eternity. 

There is no simple way to be a human, but there’s magic to believe in if you want it, magic to hang your hopes on. Perhaps it’s not the glitzy magic the world promises but it’s magic nonetheless. It’s supernatural magic of the little when they’re chosen, of the Virgin when she delivers, of the baby come save us. It’s the bizarre ability to believe in a power that doesn’t operate on our timeline or within our understanding, but Who chooses to be Incarnate on our plane because. 

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If you’ve been burned by the treasonous nature of mood rings and betrayed by belief, I’ll tell you what I told my girl:

You are too intricate a creation to be summed up by rings or jobs or things or even your own body.

You were created by Love, for love, to love.

You were created to be loved. You were.

You in all your messy, inconvenient, uncommunicative glory, you are worthy and good and lovely.

Remember who you are.

Remember Whose you are. 

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After a good cry, and a pep talk, and a good night’s sleep, she slipped the mood ring on again. I can’t be certain, because I certainly have no power to decipher the mind of the 8 year old, but I’d venture a guess that she was able to see the truth that the magic doesn’t come from the ring or the emotional ease it offers, but from a deeper power within. The belief isn’t in the ring, but in the confidence that comes from knowing and trusting the one who made her, who gifted her with eyes to see his love for her and eyes to see the magic in the world, ring or no ring.

Advent Round Up

Hey, gang! It’s the most wonderful time of the year, when we get to dig into the excitement and anticipation, slap some glitter on the world, and snuggle close to twinkly lights while we watch movies with impossible plots that get tied up too neatly with bows. Gracious, we need this time now more than ever, am I right?

DISCLAIMER: If you’re not boobs deep in garland right now, you can just excuse yourself. As for me and my blog, we holiday hard, mmmkay? Kthanxbyeeee.

I recently posted about our Kindness Elves on Instagram and have gotten some questions about our Advent traditions, so I figured I’d do a quick round up of what we’ve got going on around here this season in case you’d like some ideas to make the season special!

Did I sound like a real life influencer there? I hope so because that’s the vibe I’m going for. The truth is I posted *a* post about our elves and exactly *one* person mentioned it to me, sooooo now I’mma do a whole post about it like Buddy the Elf and no one can stop me! The real real truth is that I’m getting lonely in this one room locked down schoolhouse and I thrive on words of affirmation, which I strangely do not receive from the pupils here at the Delagrange School of Witchcraft and Other Crafts But Please Don’t Make Us Do Math.

What I’m saying is, I’ve had two good days of homeschooling in a row and I need to brag about it.

Also our traditions make me happy and I’m very opinionated about Advent and Christmas and that’s what the internet is for: sharing unsolicited advice and opinions.

Read on if you enjoy casually looking at the goings on in other people’s homes but don’t plan to execute any of their plans in your own abode.

Read on if you’re looking for some ideas that make you look like you’ve got your shit together, when in reality your laundry mountain is less and mountain now and more of a clean clothes version of a gelatinous cube that’s taking over your living room. It’s legit kind of cube shaped over here because it’s been in the baskets for so long…rectangular prism shaped I guess if you want to get picky, but like I said, I don’t do math.

Please do not read on if you’re already feeling vulnerable or less than and watching me blather on about my stuff will make you feel like you’re not doing enough. I swear to you, you’re doing more than enough and also you’re a majestic man or woman beast with great legs and gorgeous hair, some of which is maybe on your legs. We are here to celebrate that and not compare ourselves because I guarantee you that you’re nailing a bunch of stuff I’m not. Like math. (Though this seems like the right moment to humble brag that Facebook alerted me the other day that thirteen years ago I scored a 97 on a math test, so booyah!)

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General Advent/Christmas Manifesto:

In this house we believe in Santa and magic and Santa Magic. I have a firm belief that if you stop believing in magic, then magical things stop happening to you. I will stand by that until my dying day. So, yes, we believe in Santa Claus, fairies, elves, Mickey Mouse, Dolly Parton, and all glorious magical beings. The end.

In this house we believe even more deeply in Jesus. So, while Santa brings us gifts, we do not subscribe to any belief or threat (however tempting it may be) that children who misbehave will not receive gifts. That’s bullslaw and we all know it.

Any time it comes up I remind my kids that we exchange gifts as a way to celebrate the gift of Christ…you know, the innocent baby who was God actively choosing to be born into poverty and who eventually grew up and died a horrible death for our sins because he wanted to be with us in eternity even though we most decidedly do not deserve that grace? Yeah, that’s the one. So yes children, you’ll still get a gift if you’re a punk, but please for the love of Baby Jesus stop being a punk.

We reinforce this by focusing on scripture, advent readings, celebrating St. Nicholas, San Juan Diego, Our Lady of Guadalupe and all of the other awesome feast days in December, etc. Read below for specific activities we do during Advent.

(No comparison, though, you cotton headed ninny muggins!)

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Kindness Elves: Because of my stance on Santa, I obv have a great snobbery against Ye Olde Elf on the Shelf. He’s a nark and snitches get stitches. I do, however, love elves who are not tattletales, so we have Kindness Elves who engage in general tomfoolery and also leave us little kindness challenges. They might bring us fun new holiday scented soaps and ask us to pray for those fighting Covid every time we wash our hands. Or the elves might ask us to memorize a scripture or read a particular book about the nativity story. They challenge us to offer a rosary, bake for our neighbors, and all sorts of other good things. Sometimes they call us out for not speaking respectfully to one another (I’m not above using magic to further my own agenda, duh) but other times they just do silly things because silly things are good and necessary.

The children were scandalized by this and I am still laughing about it.

Preparing a Place for the Christ Child: We have an empty manger (basket) that we prepare for the coming Baby with straw (yarn). You get to put in a piece of straw every time you make a sacrifice, do a good deed or an act of service. It’s a really great visual for kids to see us preparing a space for Christ…and it’s oddly motivating to kids of all ages. And also their mothers. It also gives parents a good reason to call out good behavior and praise kids. I don’t know about you guys, but I praise and encourage a lot less than I correct and criticize. I’m working on it and the manger helps.

Letters to Jesus: We got this tradition from Bobbi Rol and I just love it. You can use Bobbi’s form letter or tweak your own, but the basic premise is that the kids are writing to Jesus and taking time to thoughtfully consider how they’ll prepare their hearts for him during Advent. There’s space to specifically lay out what they’re taking on or abstaining from (remember, Advent is technically a mini-lent but don’t shoot the messenger), who they’re praying for, and what gifts they hope to receive Christmas morning. It’s a really fun activity that hits the sweet spot between emphasizing faith and embracing the fun of presents.

Jesse Tree: This is our first year to do a Jesse Tree and I can’t decide if it’ll be great or stressful. I’m totally fine dropping it if it doesn’t work out. I snagged the Ann Voskamp book Unwrapping the Greatest Gift: A Family Celebration of Christmas from the library. So far I really like it. But, I mean…it’s Ann, so prepare ye the way for lots of words. (I said it. She’s verbose. Wordy. Long-winded. I know, I know, I am the epitome of the pot calling the kettle black. It cannot be denied. How many more words will I write before I’ve sufficiently beat this horse? Three more words. Exactly three.)

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Recent Homeschool Fun: Here’s the section of this post where I tell you all about how much fun we’ve been having at our homeschool…please read that as: how much fun we’ve been having in the last two days because the days before that were decidedly un-fun. Because things had been so un-fun and because it’s Advent, I wanted to shake things up a bit and try something different. For the next few weeks, we’re stepping back from individual lessons in our textbooks and mainly doing group work with a few individual things thrown in. This has already changed my life and it’s only been two days. Praise the Lord and bless His Holy Name is what I say.

For example, today we read aloud two books (The Twenty-four Days Before Christmas by Madeleine L’Engle and The Snowman by Raymond Briggs). One is chapter book length and the other is a wordless book. The kids took turns narrating the wordless book, trying to use the most descriptive words they could think of. We covered parts of speech, figurative language, critical thinking, and then took a foray into art because they noticed that a painting within the book looked an awful lot like Van Gogh’s sunflowers.

The placement of this book strategically hides the mountain ‘o laundry. I’m no amateur.

Then we took a foray into crying under the table because someone got interrupted by someone else who allegedly gave up interrupting people for Advent.

After that, we created our own wordless story, practiced some poems we’re memorizing, and worked on some spelling words. Over tacos for dinner, we discussed which type of book we preferred and why (wordless picture book, or chapter book with few pictures). Throw in lots of playing in the snow, math games on the computer, prayers, Jesse Tree readings, and a viewing of The Snowy Day by Ezra Jack Keats on Amazon Prime (and a discussion of his art and influence) and I think it was a pretty stellar day in the ‘ole homeschool.

Also there were lots of video games played and we watched Frozen after dinner and I’m not sorry. Holla atcha mother.

Anyway, here’s the fun Advent-y homeschool-y activity that I think everyone should do regardless of whether or not you formally celebrate Advent or homeschool. It’s just real fun.

Stuffed Animal Census: Okay, gang. Buckle up because I am about to blow your minds. We did a math activity that took the entire day and I, the person who hates math, got so into it I was manipulating data like my life depended on it and then ended my night trying to learn Boolean algebra. I genuinely don’t know who I am any more, but I kind of love it and now I want everyone to do this project because it was such a joy!

We started by learning about what a census is since that’s the main reason Mary and Joseph were traveling at Christmas, you know? It was such a fun conversation about taxation and the Romans and tax collectors and then also about equal representation in government…I’m sure they soaked it all up like the little sponges they are.

Then we rounded up every single stuffed animal in the house and counted them. They were also sorted according to species, original owner, and current owner. Yes, some were classified as “disputed ownership.” It was so much fun to play with the data and make graphs to see how many of which type of toy we have most of and which kid has stolen inherited more toys than anyone else (spoiler: it’s the youngest). The kids all loved this activity and it was such a fun real-life connection to the nativity story.

It was real fun for everyone except this kid who was somehow convinced we were getting rid of all of his toys even though we assured him several times we were only counting them.

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So, that’s the Advent Round Up. I’m sure I’ll have hundreds of other thrilling ideas for you, but this is already longer than Ann Voskamp’s daily emails, so I must be stopped. If you’re one of the two people who made it this far then I say to you, “Hi, Mom and Dad! Yes, it’s still snowy, but we’re safe. At time of publication, we still have power despite the snow storm. Talk to you soon!”

To Be Useless, To Be Used

Next week we begin Advent, which is almost impossible to believe. This has been the longest shortest year I think I’ve ever lived. With so much lost and gained this year and Advent upon us, I’ve felt very introspective.

…if you come in touch with the experience of being used or the experience of being useless, you might in fact be close to a true Christian experience, or closer than you sought.

Henri Nouwen

I read this Henri Nouwen quote the other day and began to ponder being used.

As a mother, it’s easy to feel used. Used for sustenance from the moment of conception all the way up to the current demand for another snack. Used for entertainment and education. Used as a bandaid, comforter, referee, and umpire. Used as personal assistant, personal chef, personal trainer, laundry service, life coach, and living jungle gym. Much of motherhood and parenthood is thankless. I’m told that I’ll get my thanks later, when their own children give them a taste of their own medicine, but that’s certainly not guaranteed. I know I have plenty to thank my own parents for that I haven’t ever mentioned to them.

Regardless of promised future gratitude, parenthood is thankless and selfless in a way that I had never experienced before my first baby was placed at my breast to tear my nipple to shreds, to make me blister and bleed, all the while demanding more and more and more of me until I almost broke.

You don’t have to be a parent to understand this deep feeling of being used. I have a dear friend who has no children of her own due to infertility and life being stupidly unfair. She may not be a parent, but she knows the profound experience of being used in equally deep and nuanced ways. A recent employment experience in education has left her stripped the same way I’ve been stripped by mothering. Used by students, taken advantage of by faculty, abused by administration, dismissed and disrespected, she’s poured herself out over and over and over again for a mission she deeply loves, only to have her work labeled unnecessary or expendable by the higher ups who clearly have a different set of priorities. I cannot speak for my friend, but I think it’s safe to say her soul feels as raw and ripped as my breastfeeding nipples. I realize how weird a metaphor that is, but I stand by it.

I read that Henri Nouwen quote and began to ponder what it means to be useless.

Which of us has not deeply felt smallness this year? Who among us has not felt useless to some extent? Unable to affect change, weak, powerless, unable to understand or regulate our own emotions let alone those of others, we’ve all floundered a bit with uselessness. Perhaps we’ve lost jobs, lost elections, lost followers, lost hope that our little lives are able to make much difference in this big world of hunger, hurt, and hate.

I believe deeply in the power of the human soul, that each of us does truly matter, that little actions have huge repercussions…but these feelings of uselessness are real and valid. Part of the human experience, the feelings of uselessness are side effects of living in a society that values productivity over people. If we are not of some use to others, what good are we? If we have nothing of value to offer, do we even matter? This explains our willingness to ignore the unborn, the alien, the elderly, the ill. They cannot contribute in the world’s valuable currency of usefulness, so we turn away and leave them to fend for themselves.

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But what does Jesus tell us of being used? Of being useless?

Surely Christ was used by many. How many people were healed in scripture who never returned to offer their thanks? I can imagine that there were many more healings besides those mentioned in the gospels that went unnoticed by anyone other than the Lord and the one he healed.

And on the subject of uselessness, there’s nothing more “useless” in the view of the world than a baby. Babies have nothing to offer, no contributions to make. They just take what they need and scream when they’re uncomfortable. (Could it be that we are more like babies than we’d care to admit?)

Perhaps the only thing more quantifiably useless than a baby is having claimed to be God and then being unwilling to remove oneself from a cross. What use is being the Son of God if you refuse to use that power when it counts?

For Jesus, this uselessness is everything. For us, it should be everything.

Being useless in the presence of the Lord strips us of everything we think we bring to the table: all the skills, talents, gifts, all the accolades and lessons we’ve collected from the School of Hard Knocks that we think make us valuable, all empty. Being useless in our relationship with Jesus requires us to acknowledge that everything we’ve placed our hope and personhood in is nothing compared to the man clinging uselessly to the cross that costs him everything and grants us eternity.

Allowing ourselves to be emptied out, to become useless and used is the crux of the Christian experience. We must learn to accept that there is nothing we can do or bring forward, nothing we can lean on of our own creation that will make us more valuable. There is nothing we can make, do, or offer that will make us more lovable. Just like a baby who does nothing to earn the love offered it, we are cradled against the eternal breast of a God who willingly breaks himself open for us again, and again, and again.

When we recognize this inherent value in ourselves, we are better able to empty ourselves for the other. When we pour out from the truth of our identity, we are free to be used by others, not expecting anything in return, not requiring thanks, praise, affirmation, or acceptance to confirm our worthiness.

Let me be clear. I’m not advocating for us to stay in situations and relationships that are abusive or that don’t honor our innate dignity. Knowing our identity in Christ allows us to recognize those times when others don’t. Accepting our identity in Christ grants us the ability to set boundaries and walk away when necessary. The distinction I want to make is that so often we cling to the thanks, we cling to the affirmation, and the comments, and the likes holding them up to the light and admiring them as jewels that define our goodness, but they don’t define a thing. They turn to dust in our hands and leave us feeling emptier than before. We’ve twisted our identity so that we think we are useless without these jewels the world offers us, but in reality it is our uselessness that makes us worth loving.

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My friend and I both recently gained a new nephew and niece within days of each other. We’ve been sharing news of our sisters, showing off the new babies to one another. They are two of the most beautiful babies that have ever been born and we are not biased at all, thankyouverymuch.

As I’ve walked through days of heaviness and worry, these strings of baby texts have been a joy. Sharing pictures of new little humans smirking in their bassinets, speculating on their long term hair color, and which parent they favor most has been such a precious way for me to escape my own glum days and be overjoyed with new life.

As conversations usually go with this particular friend, our texts rambled through the agreement that gosh we’ve needed these babies: “babies are exactly what this world needs,” wandered through sharing our current struggles and worries about upcoming holidays, and ultimately circled back to Jesus.

At the end of our conversation about holiday worries and postponed family plans my friend said, “Jesus is born no matter what. What this world needs is babies, and one specific baby most of all.”

Babies are exactly what this world needs.

We need the weight of them against our chests to remind us of the heaviness of Love that leans into us, just longing to be close not because of what we can do but because of who we are.

We need babies screaming in the night, reminding us to cry out for our Father, reminding us to keep calling on him with persistence, screaming into the darkness until we are held in the strength of his embrace.

We need babies in our lives to remind us that we can love someone simply because they exist.

We need babies to remind us of our own uselessness, of our own dependence, our own frailty. We’re all just one diaper change away from sitting in our own mess again, aren’t we?

We need babies to remind us that time is irrelevant and, in the big scheme of things, schedules are unimportant. Degrees, trophies, books sold, career goals met, cakes baked, toilets cleaned, spreadsheets balanced…none of it impacts a baby.

You know what impacts a baby? Being held skin to skin against the heart of the one who protects them. That’s what impacts a baby. Babies gain security from being swaddled up and held tight by the ones who broke themselves open, body and soul, to deliver them into the world.

As we enter into Advent, we need babies.

We especially need one baby.

We need the baby to remind us of our uselessness, of what it means to be used. We need him to point us back to dependence and humility, to sacrifice and surrender. And in the great paradox of our faith, we need this baby to save us from ourselves.

We must become like the baby Savior in order to love and be loved in this wild and wicked world. We must find ourselves worthy in our uselessness, offering ourselves to be completely used up, wasted, and poured out for love of a King who comes to us as an impractical infant in a no-name town, born to an unassuming family that became little and lonely, unremarkable and undistinguished in order to change the world through far-reaching, radically humble love.

Used and useless is the space where we must dwell this Advent, swaddled in the paradoxical love of a weak and useless baby in a manger, resting there until he is completely used up for us all.

Deck the Halls

Welp. ‘Tis the season to haul out some seasonal decor and succumb to the power of twinkle lights. I think this year those in the “Don’t Decorate Before Thanksgiving” camp are finally allowing the rest of us the grace to just follow our little elfin hearts without judgement. Perhaps this is a silver lining of *all of this* going on?

For those of you in the “Decorate for Christmas Yesterday” camp, this post is for you. You know who you are. The moment the calendar rolled over into November and you immediately heard the siren song of Bing Crosby jing-jing-a-ling-ing in your ears. You’ve already planned where the tree will go, plotted the arrangement of lights and tinsel, and are just filled to the brim with holiday giddiness. Some of you may have already decorated the shiz out of your house, no looking back, you’re in love, you’re in love, and you don’t care who knows it!

But if you’re someone who has been feeling the nostalgia of the season swell but haven’t yet pulled the tinsel trigger, I need you to listen unto me. 

This weekend may be the weekend and you’re making great plans to deck the halls and twirl and frolic through your living room while you blare holiday tunes like Kevin McCalister. That is good and lovely and completely allowed. Go forth and garland, girls and boys! Lord knows we need some tinsel up in here to lighten the mood. 

But.

However.

Hang on there just a minute, you cotton-headed ninny muggins.

I don’t want to be a Debbie Downer because clearly we don’t need any more of those. What I do want to be is Rhonda Realistic and remind you that decorating your house will probably not be fun. Or at least it won’t be as fun as you think and wish and hope it will be in your sweet little heart of Hallmark hearts. 

Here’s the deal, y’all. Decorating for Christmas usually involves some rearranging of furniture and therefore deep cleaning. Or at minimum some sweeping up of cobwebs. If you’re like me and you don’t want your house to look like you slapped Christmas on the crypt from the Mummy you’re gonna have to do some light dusting and/or run the leaf blower through the house.

Also, you’ll be forced to relocate Mount Laundry to a different room to be dealt with later. (And yes, I plan to just use Mount Laundry as a decoration and put a star on top, thank you to all my sweet readers for giving me that idea. God bless you, every one.)

So anyway, none of that is necessarily fun. 

Around here, decorating for Christmas feels like one of those stupid plastic tile puzzles you get from the cardboard treasure chest at the dentist’s office that’s supposed to make a picture. You can get, like, two or three tiles in place but you have to move them all again to get the next one and before you know it it’s a complete cluster that’s best left jammed between some couch cushions. 

If you’ve got kids, decorating seems like it will be a fun family activity. I mean, it ought to be. However, much like mini golf, what seems a guaranteed joyful afternoon with the fam inevitability morphs into a cornucopia of complaining, quarreling, damaged property, and possibly assault. (Yes, a cornucopia because Thanksgiving.)

What I’m saying is decorating for the holidays is awesome and twinkle lights make everything better and I am 100% for it all. But also, don’t be surprised if the lights don’t work in just the middle of the tree, and the kids bicker, and the dog is underfoot, and you start your period, and someone “helpfully” sprays festive spruce Febreeze on the trees until they’re literally dripping with the scent of chemical conifers. 

You may have to fight and get scrappy and forgive each other seventy times seven times. I just want you to know that these things are probably coming. Plan for chaos, broken ornaments, and broken hearts.

Also, you may be wise to plan for a six hour long power outage. Because that’s a thing that happened over here. Day two of decorating dawned sunny and windy, I went out and purchased a new TV (merry early Christmas to the grown ups in our house…but really the kids…and they’ll still get whatever rainbow unicorn baby glitter surprise pet it is they asked for, let’s be honest). The husband and I got the new TV in, arranged, and fired up. It was finishing it’s reboot process and we were jazzed to try it out, which is when the wind knocked out the power for six plus hours. Because 2020.

The good/bad news is that I was forced to tackle Mount Laundry. I’m happy/sad to report that I’ll have to revisit the decorating plans on that one because I folded it all in my dimly lit bedroom where it had been relocated due to Christmas. Don’t worry, though, I’ve already started another Mountain. It’s more of a molehill at this point, but I have great faith in my ability to ignore it until it either takes over the house or is lovely enough to place a star upon.

So, guys, when the power goes out and everything is unfinished, and all the batteries have died, and all of your candles have melted into one giant mass of hot wax on a plate in the middle of your table, take my advice: breathe deeply, look around, and take it all in. Look deeply at all of souls that have been left to your care. Gaze at the little hearts who spent the afternoon loudly playing with the Little People Nativity set (the one that inexplicably has 3 baby Jesuses) whilst listening to their father play his harmonica, something he doesn’t usually have time to do. Take it all in, in the candle light and the mixed up smells of sickly spruce combined with at least three other candle scents. Maybe pray a Rosary together since you’ve got the time. Take it in and appreciate it in all its imperfection and grubby goodness. Because that’s where the real holiday magic is, isn’t it? The twinkle lights will come back on. The ornaments will be hung in due time (and swept up when they’re broken). The holiday joy will happen in spite of all of the irritation, the ugliness, the inconvenience, and disappointment.

Somehow that’s just the kind of nostalgia you’ll need to warm the cockles of your heart while you secretly eat chips in the pantry. 

PS. The way we got the lights on the tree to work was that my husband literally punched the tree. He batted it around like a tabby cat, swatted it, and then buffeted it some more and the lights came on. So, you know…when in doubt, just punch things is what I’m saying. Hang in there, team. We’re gonna make it even if we have to punch our way to holiday cheer!

Personal Litany of Truth

I stumbled upon an Instagram post the other day that was especially great, greater even than the posts of cats being scared by cucumbers or those people I watched doing a frantic mini trampoline workout, believe it or not.

The writer, Lauren De Witt, introduced the idea of writing your own litany of truths. Apparently she learned about it from a Moms in Peace workshop, which I know nothing about, but I’m determined to give credit where credit is due because girl power is a thing and I am here for it.

The basic premise is something that I preach to my doula clients all the time, but oooobviously neglect to practice in my own life. I’m real good at offering sage advice to others, but real sucky at taking it myself. C’est la vie.

Any time my clients are feeling worried, doubtful, or afraid I always tell them to remember what’s true. It’s so easy to let our worry and anxiety snowball until it gets bigger and bigger and buries us completely. But we can stop that shiz right in its tracks just by naming what’s true. Once you start naming what’s true, it’s amazing to see how many falsehoods you were starting to believe.

What reminded me of the idea of making a personal litany of truth is that yesterday I ill-advisedly watched an Insta-stories post by someone detailing their homeschool work load. Y’all, is there anything that’ll make you feel like crap more than accidentally stumbling upon someone who’s doing “life” better than you? (Clearly I need to take a break from Instagram, that’s what.)

Here’s the thing: the homeschooling mom I saw is doing an incredible job with her kids. She wasn’t even pretentious or ass-holey about her homeschooling success. She was really lovely and genuinely proud of herself for homeschooling for the first time ever during the time of Covid and ain’t nobody going to fault her for that!

But for some reason her post just hit me right in the most sensitive spot in my jealous gut, the place where I’m already predisposed to feeling like a failure or at least a fraud. Y’all, this woman could’ve chronicled her own clean laundry mountain and I’d have felt like mine wasn’t good enough (and we all know my mountain of clean laundry is the best, duh).

So, as I felt myself spiraling into a pit of comparison and negative self talk, I remembered the litany of truths! For once in my life, I genuinely took my own advice and that of wonderful Lauren from the internet and wrote down a list of solid truth.

I ended up breaking it down into sections because I can’t not be verbose. Here’s what it looks like:

Parenting/Home Relationships

• My children and my husband are not my report card.
• I am not responsible for making everyone happy, but rather I am responsible for loving well the souls left to my care.
• My parenting and homeschooling are mine alone. I am not competing or comparing, not better or less than, just walking my own path.
• I am not solely responsible for how my children turn out. I am a guardian and a guide on their way, but I am not ultimately in control of who they become.
• My children are not a product I am turning out. They are people with their own free will.
• I am not responsible for other people’s emotions. I can see their emotions and try to help them, but I am not responsible for the speed at which they process or whether or not they accept my offer of help.
• Most things are not about me anyway.
• I am one person. I cannot do it all. But I can ask for help and accept it.

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Mental/Emotional Health

• My body is the dwelling place of the eternal God. When I abuse it, I abuse His temple. When I protect and care for it, I am worshipping Him.
• My anger cannot overcome or overpower me because it comes from me. Like a labor contraction, I can see it coming and ride it until it ebbs. It will subside just as quickly as it rises.
• I do not have to give space to frantic, worried thoughts. When I feel them I can stop, be still, and know that He is God. I can do this through Christ who gives me strength.
• Being a good steward of my gifts means I am allowed to devote time to my talents without feeling guilty.
• Discipline is an act of faith.

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Fundamental Faith Truths:

• I need Jesus in the Sacraments to be whole.
• When I am weak, He is strong. My growth is found in humility.
• I am beloved, created by love, for love, with the mission to love while on this earth. Nothing I can do or accomplish can change that truth.
• The forces of Resistance cannot overpower the One who is in me.
• Every moment is an opportunity to choose love, to die to myself and my will, to step out in faith believing that while I am not in control, He is.

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So, that’s my personal litany of truths. I’m going to keep it and maybe put it on my white board and probably sleep with it and tattoo it to my face. If you see me looking like Post Malone, you’ll know I just really need to remember what’s true, mkay?

I’ll probably add to and take stuff away, but I’m pretty jazzed about how good it made me feel to just write all that out. I highly recommend it as a simple, concrete way to feel better about life. This has been my PSA, please go write true things down and be good to yourself.

You can find Lauren De Witt’s original post on Instagram @thecontemplativehomemaker…she’s a real good follow and her own litany is just beautiful.

As always, I hope you know how wonderful you are, my friends. You’re really important and even more loved. So go put that on your own list of truth. That’s an order!

May Auld 2020 be Forgot

We’re on the cusp of the holiday season.

Don’t shoot the messenger, y’all.

I’m thinking we’re divided into two camps here: those who are burying their heads in the sand and avoiding all thoughts of holiday celebrations because they’re certain to be decidedly not normal and those who are chomping at the bit to get to the new year.

“Just get through the year” has been the rallying cry for so many as 2020 has dumped load after load of challenge, pain, injustice, and illness on us all. I mean, obv it has been a doozy.

It is completely normal for us to want to embrace that feeling of “just get it over with” and wish the rest of the year away. But I worry that this mindset is misleading us.

While I think it’s important to find ways to mark the passage of time in a dismal year, I also think that we can’t delude ourselves into thinking that the moment the clock rolls over at midnight on January 1, 2021 everything is going to be fine. I mean, it’ll be fine, but it might be this kind of fine.

https://www.theverge.com/2016/5/5/11592622/this-is-fine-meme-comic

So, what’s the game plan then, team? How can we avoid putting all our eggs in the basket of the new year and transition into 2021 with better(ish) attitudes?

Obv I have *all* the answers so here’s my official 2020 Holiday and New Year Survival Guide Trademark Forthcoming.

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Acknowledge that we’re in now now.

It’s fine to look back and it’s fine to look ahead, but we’re in now now and that’s all we’ve got. Carpe diem, live laugh love, etc, etc, all we have is this moment and y’all should probably print that out and hang it on your bathroom wall.

Like it or not, this moment that we’re in is 2020 with all the trappings of chaos and craziness that come with it, but wishing our lives away will not change any of that. No new year is capable of providing the happily ever after we might be wishing for, so we’ve got to do our best with what we’ve got.

Decide how you want to handle the now that you’re in. 2020 has been hard. How do you want to spend the last months of it? How do you want to enter into 2021? Do you want to spend this time jumping into bitterness, envy, remorse, and fear like Scrooge McDuck jumping into his vault of gold? Or do you want to spend this last bit of the year cuddling up to gentleness for yourself and others? (I did a little exploring along this vein over at The Living Person if you’re interested in that little tangent.)

You’re not required to figure everything out, but I’d venture to suppose that the rest of the year won’t feel so empty and wasted if we circle the wagons and put forth the effort to guard our hearts. (Shout out to all my fellow bible college graduates who were told to guard your hearts in every chapel message ever of all time but kinda didn’t know what that meant.)

What this looks like is setting boundaries and identifying which things we want to give space to. I don’t weigh myself without checking in with myself first to make sure I can emotionally handle whatever that number says. (Haven’t weighed myself in months for this very reason.)

So, guard your heart. Check in with yourself before you look at the news. Are you willing to give head and heart space to the potential negativity you may find there? Check in with yourself before you read the comments, before you entertain that potentially intense conversation, before you head into that zoom call with that one person. Even if you can’t avoid the conversation or the meeting, you can set boundaries within it and make sure you’re giving space in your life to people and things that matter and respect you. It’s totally fine to say, “I’m sorry, I just can’t talk about (fill in the blank) right now. I’ll feel more peaceful if we stick to other topics,” and then you take a sip of your OceanSpray and move along down the road.

You’re not required to consume all of the media. Just because it’s there doesn’t mean you have to read it or watch it or engage with it in any way. You’re allowed to step back. Odds are you’ve already developed your opinions and your mind isn’t going to be changed by a stranger on the interwebs. Odds also are you’re not going to change anyone else’s mind. (Insert cringy face and also please keep not shooting the messenger.)

I’m not saying we shouldn’t engage in challenging conversations and discourse with people who think differently than we do. What I am saying is that we’re not required to do that if we’re not up for it emotionally. If you walk away from a conversation, account, news outlet feeling furious, depressed, or hopeless, maybe don’t engage with that shiz in the future.

Curate your social media feed to be a place that fills you up and reminds you of the decency of humanity. Mute, block, snooze, unfollow until you achieve a peaceful scrolling experience. I suggest anything having to do with the Hebrides and/or following this guy. You’re welcome.

Don’t fall victim to the pressure of turning lemons into lemonade. I predict that there will be a ton of reflecting on “what we’ve learned from 2020” and “what the year from hell has taught us.” While I think it’s great to look back and see how we’ve grown, it’s also important not to put too much pressure on ourselves. It’s okay if all we accomplished this year is survival. It’s okay if we look at 2020, take stock of how we’ve coped, and realize that we struggled hard and are still struggling. We’re not required to come out of this year battered, bruised, but carrying earth shattering self-knowledge and a kickass sourdough starter. We’re allowed to come out just plain battered and bruised. We just are. The sooner we give ourselves permission to welcome the uncomfortable truth of our own unique experience, the better able we’ll be to heal.

Also I threw my starter away because sourdough is too much work and I’m not sorry.

Send 2020 out with a bang. Do something drastic and fun you’ve been wanting to do for no other reason than you can and it’s 2020 and I’m bringing YOLO back. Dye the hair, get the tattoo (Mom, don’t comment on that or I’ll send you a video of how far my eyes are rolling), run the race even if you have to walk it. Decorate for Christmas whenever the hell you want to and wear an old bridesmaid’s dress to eat Papa John’s on the couch and maybe also paint your front door orange? Surprise yourself by having a stupid amount of fun just because life is short and you should. Spontaneity is fun and it’s still a thing we can do even if things are weird or kind of hard.

It’s not about you. 2020 has been a year of isolation which has led a lot of us to do some serious introspective thinking. A little self evaluation can be helpful at times but can also result in us becoming a little too preoccupied with ourselves. We can all agree that we have been personally victimized by 2020 and if this year had a name it would be Regina George. But it’s super important to remember that it’s not about us. Anything we can do to draw ourselves out of our own self-focus is a win.

Make New Year’s resolutions, but not shitty ones. One way to remember that things are not about me is to make some New Year’s resolutions. Now, I’m no fortune teller and I’m going out on a limb here, but I don’t think 2021 is going to be the year that I start drinking all the water, or lose the weight, or whatever. But, it can be the year that I make it a priority to love others more! Here are some fun resolutions I came up with to remind myself that it’s not about me.

• Adopt someone to love each month. Send them coffee money, mail a card, or text an inappropriate gif that will startle them into laughter when they’re hiding from their job in the bathroom.You don’t even have to know them! You could just pick a random residential address each month and send flowers to that house. Or send flowers to a nursing home with instructions that they be given to a resident who needs some happy. Whatever you decide to do, just pick one person each month to reach out to and remind that they matter.
• Donate to a different nonprofit each month. Doesn’t have to be a lot of money, fam. Even $5 is helpful and will make you feel a little less helpless in this big bad world. I suggest checking out Beauty 2 The Streetz and Abide Women’s Health Services as good places to start.
• Invest in a service industry professional. Maybe you feel guilty about getting a pedicure. Guess what? You’re allowing a person to provide for her family by paying for her services. That’s a gift. Maybe you feel weird about paying to have your house cleaned. Same thing. Perhaps you see the same cashier at WalMart every time you go. Guess what? Working there probably sucks some of the time (lots of the time) so do something nice for that person. Take donuts to the Aldi on a Monday morning. Bring coffee to the post office staff. Jump on public transportation just to pass out balloons to the driver. Challenge yourself to see the people who slip beneath the radar and show them some love.
• Participate in the new challenge I just invented. I’m calling it Random Acts of Silly and I we’re gonna have a hashtag (#randomactsofsilly) and go around spreading silliness. I’m starting by ordering a giant pack of googly eyes to keep in my purse so I can stick them on stuff when I’m out and about.
• Take up a new devotion. Set aside time to pray for others. This could look like making a list of intentions or just praying for general ones (local, national, and world leaders, those suffering in other countries, etc). I’ve recently been praying the Chaplet of Divine Mercy (a devotion I’ve avoided because I’m too hip to do the thing that everyone else is doing please roll your eyes at me) and it 100% lives up to the hype.

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That’s all I’ve got, gang. What would you add? How are you planning on handling the transition from 2020 to 2021? We didn’t really tackle the intricacies of holiday celebrations in this post, so if you’re at all interested in the ramblings of yours truly on the subject, just let me know and I’ll take a stab at it.

Either way, friends, you are loved. However you’re feeling about this last bit of the year and the idea of a new one approaching, you’re loved. You’re precious and important. You matter so much. We need you, just you remember that.

Nothing New Under the Sun

When I was a young student bright-eyed and optimistic, naively reading my bible on the quad at the Baptist university I attended Ecclesiastes never did much for me. It was too cynical a view of the world for my nineteen year old taste. But as I’ve aged and gathered a more full experience of life (particularly this year), the famous words of Ecclesiastes are an absolute vibe.

All things are wearisome, too wearisome for words. The eye is not satisfied with seeing nor has the ear enough of hearing.

Ecclesiastes 1:8

What my younger self deemed too depressing a sentiment, my mid-thirties self reads and thinks, “That’ll preach!”

All things are wearisome, too wearisome for words. Amen and amen. The eye is not satisfied with seeing nor has the ear enough of hearing. Like, did they have smartphones in the Old Testament? Because I swear this speaks directly to our plugged in culture.

Obsessive scrolling, consumption of media, furiously worrying thoughts, search bars, Twitter feeds, deep dives into subreddits. It’s never enough to quench our thirst for more information, more proof that we’re right, more evidence condemning the other side, more statistics, more people agreeing with us, more proof of approval, proof that acquits us of being in the wrong and places responsibility on others. We are weary, but we won’t stop. We are worn out and worn down, but we will not rest. An unceasing quest for justice is necessary, but I wonder if our collective search is actually for justice or for more compelling proof to throw in each other’s faces.

What has been, that will be; what has ben done, that will be done. Nothing is new under the sun! Even the thing of which we say, “See, this is new!” has already existed in the ages that preceded us. There is no remembrance of past generations; nor will future generations be remembered by those who come after them.

Ecclesiastes 1:9-11

Immaturity or lack of experience leaves us surprised when we repeat the sins of our fathers, whether those our forefathers or the fathers of our faith. It’s depressing to think that we’ve made so little progress as humans that we’re still struggling with the same garbage that they were wrestling with in the Old Testament. Though our world has changed and morphed through history, human nature remains unchanged. We have always struggled with jealousy, greed, pride, and envy. The powerful have always exploited the powerless. The Man has always kept the little ones down, there have always been struggling minorities, the least of these crying out for someone to step in and change things.

There is nothing new under the sun.

In the midst of these reflections, my house is being worked on. The basement walls in our hundred year old house are crumbling from water damage, the slow movement of time and water taking its toll on the structure holding us all up. So there’s a guy named Pee-wee down there scraping away the old and reinforcing it, cleaning away the debris and strengthening our walls. It’s all very metaphorical I’m sure, but for a guy who goes by Pee-wee, he’s seriously lacking a sense of humor and in its place is the most Ecclesiastical attitude I’ve ever seen. Upon meeting him, you can just tell that Pee-wee has seen some shit. There’s nothing new under the sun and literally nothing could surprise him.

I feel so heavy under all my observations about the world, that there’s nothing new, humanity and original sin will be wrapped up together embracing and struggling until the end of time. Plus, it’s hard to get excited about teaching children math facts and grammar rules in a house full of extra noise and chemical fumes.

And yet, I found out this morning that Pee-wee is a poet of all things. He wrote a book of poetry for his children in the 90’s, self published it, and signed over the rights to his sister who used all the profits to go to medical school.

Lord, you have been our refuge through all generations. Before the mountains were born, the earth and the world brought forth, from eternity to eternity you are God.

Psalm 90:2-1

To be fair, Pee-wee’s story has undeniably cynical undertones. He is a poet…and also he is apparently a former Army ranger who was shot by the drug cartel in Columbia and then discharged under strict command to never speak of what he saw (but that was over thirty years ago, so Pee-wee says what he wants). Pee-wee is estranged from most of his family, it seems, and he curses like a sailor, but not around the kids. I really like him.

And Tom, who is working on the upstairs bathroom, poked his head in to ask if the kids and I wanted to place the first tiles in the shower. He gave us his pencil and had us write our names on the backs of the tiles, each of us leaving our little invisible mark that I’m sure will go completely unseen when someone new rips it all out in the future.

There is nothing new under the sun. Humanity is still grappling, frustrated and angry that there is still injustice, still abuse of power, still hurt, and lies, and abuse.

There is nothing new under the sun. People are complicated and complex. Their stories still surprise us, there is still beauty in the most unexpected of people and the most unlikely of places. There is still kindness, still goodness, still the gentleness of men giving of their time and talent in microscopic ways that give us a glimmer of hope when everything else feels awful.

No trial has come to you but what is human. God is faithful and will not let you be tried beyond your strength; but with the trial he will also provide you a way out, so that you may be able to bear it.

1 Corinthians 10:13