Unlike most of my peers, I did not grow up believing in Santa Claus. He was never a real or magical character in our house. I have never mailed Santa a letter (although as an assignment during elementary school, I had to write Santa a letter and felt very silly writing to a make-believe person). I've never sat on a kindly old bearded stranger's lap and told him of my wish list. Never have I ever feared receiving coal in my stocking.
As I've been pondering what I want holiday traditions in my own house to look like, I default, as I think many of us do, to what is familiar. I have assumed, without giving a tremendous amount of thought as to why, I wouldn't teach my children about Santa. Until this week, the passing reasons for this were that, 1) I don't want to lie to my children-- not even about whimsical fictitious characters (Santa, Easter Bunny, Tooth Fairy, and certainly not that creepy ol' Elf on the Shelf), and 2) I didn't grow up believing in any of them.
But recently, I've evaluated why I am uncomfortable with the idea of instilling in my children a belief about Santa Claus. I do not judge or snub my nose at parents who choose differently. I don't have the "right" way. I do think, however, that it's important to challenge our own ways of thinking. Tradition for tradition's sake isn't a good enough reason TO do something... or to NOT do something.
Here's what I've come up with: I don't want to bring Santa into my children's Christmas traditions because the commercial ideas surrounding this jolly old soul are completely opposite of the real, true focus of Christmas. No, I don't think Santa is evil and I'm not a "all things secular are synonymous with raging war on Christmas" individual. Slow down. Hear me out.
With Santa, you gain access to him once a year;
with Christ, His presence is always with us.
With Santa, you tell him what fleeting thing you want each year;
with Christ, He knows your greatest need before you even ask.
With Santa, if you behave, you are entitled to presents;
with Jesus, there is nothing you can do to earn the gift of salvation.
With Santa, you act nicely in order to receive;
with Jesus, you receive and then respond in overflowing grateful devotion and obedience.
With Santa, you receive gifts if you're good;
with Jesus, you receive the ultimate gift because you aren't good. .
With Santa, he comes to bring presents;
with Christ, His life was the present.
Isn't one of these two characters infinitely much more magnificent? I don't want to spend precious moments of the few advent seasons I have with my little one focusing on a fable... when Christ's birth and life is so much richer.
As we progress through this month, I challenge you (and myself) to consider meaning and purpose in your celebrations rather than going through the rote motions. Our enjoyment of this season will be deeper and richer for it.
11.19.2018
You Don't Need a Party Hat to Eat Cheesecake (Recipe Included)
It annoys me to no end when it takes me 10 minutes to scrolls past a food blogger's life story to get to the stupid recipe, so I'm not going to do that to you. If you care to hear me carry on about the silly thing, I shall do so after the recipe.
For the rest of you who have better things to do with your day... you're welcome.
Crust:
2 C fine crumbs Pumpkin Spice Frosted Flakes (roughly 5 C whole), or regular plus and a bit of Pumpkin Pie Spice
1 C fine crumbs Crispix
3+ T unsalted butter, melted
Preheat oven to 350. Pulverize the cereal in a food processor until very fine. Mix in the butter (If the mixture doesn't stick together when you pinch it, add a T more of melted butter). Press into bottom 8x8 square pan and slightly up the sides. Pop that baby in the oven for 5 minutes. Cool.
Caramel:
1 C sugar
5 T unsalted butter, room temperature
1/2 C sour cream, room temperature
In saucepan, melt the sugar over lowish heat. Stir frequently. After a while, it will start to melt. Keep stirring until all of the sugar clumps are liquidy and it's a gorgeous amber color. Cut the butter into about 8 small clumps and gradually add them in. Keep stirring and adding until all the butter has been incorporated. Remove the pan from the heat and gradually add the sour cream. Voila! Caramel sauce! Let it cool for a few minutes in a glass bowl.
Apples:
2 large apples (I used gala because that's basically all I buy), or 3 medium/smallish apples
1 1/2 T brown sugar
1 T unsalted butter
Heat cast iron skillet on low heat. While it's warming, peel your apples and cut into small chunks (bigger than a dice). Toss the apples, sugar, and butter into the skillet and stir. Stir occasionally and cook until apples are slightly darker, soft, and smell radiant.
Walnuts:
1/3 C walnut pieces
1 T sugar
2 t unsalted butter
In skillet, heat ingredients together, stirring constantly, until sugar has melted and coated the walnuts. Spread out on sheet of wax paper and let cool. Resist urge to just eat them all.
Filling:
18 oz cream cheese, room temperature
1 T sour cream
2 large eggs (or 3 egg yolks if you've got 'em lying around)
2ish T brown sugar
1 t vanilla
1/4 t cinnamon
Beat cream cheese and sour cream in mixer until smooth and creamy. Add eggs and beat until incorporated. Add brown sugar (more to taste if you like it sweeter), vanilla, and cinnamon.
Cheesecake, assemble!! On top of cooled crust, pour thin layer of caramel and spread with the back of a spoon-- just enough to cover all of the crust. Tilt and turn to make sure it gets to all edges and corner. Sprinkle some of apple chunks over the caramel. Add about 1 T of caramel into the cream cheese and pour 2/3 filling evenly over top (you may need to spread around into pan with spatula. Reserve 1 T of caramel, but pour the rest into the remaining 1/3 filling and mix (do not scrape out caramel container yet). Add remaining apples to mixture and spread onto pan.
Take reserved T of caramel and drizzle over filling. In the bowl that held the caramel, toss the walnuts in and stir to coat in what's left of the caramel. Sprinkle around pan. Put cheesecake in the over until set, about 45-50 minutes. Cool completely and refrigerate for several hours until chilled.
For the rest of you who have better things to do with your day... you're welcome.
Caramel Apple Cheesecake
 |
| Behold. The No-Special-Occasion Caramel Apple Cheesecake. |
Crust:
2 C fine crumbs Pumpkin Spice Frosted Flakes (roughly 5 C whole), or regular plus and a bit of Pumpkin Pie Spice
1 C fine crumbs Crispix
3+ T unsalted butter, melted
Preheat oven to 350. Pulverize the cereal in a food processor until very fine. Mix in the butter (If the mixture doesn't stick together when you pinch it, add a T more of melted butter). Press into bottom 8x8 square pan and slightly up the sides. Pop that baby in the oven for 5 minutes. Cool.
Caramel:
1 C sugar
5 T unsalted butter, room temperature
1/2 C sour cream, room temperature
In saucepan, melt the sugar over lowish heat. Stir frequently. After a while, it will start to melt. Keep stirring until all of the sugar clumps are liquidy and it's a gorgeous amber color. Cut the butter into about 8 small clumps and gradually add them in. Keep stirring and adding until all the butter has been incorporated. Remove the pan from the heat and gradually add the sour cream. Voila! Caramel sauce! Let it cool for a few minutes in a glass bowl.
Apples:
2 large apples (I used gala because that's basically all I buy), or 3 medium/smallish apples
1 1/2 T brown sugar
1 T unsalted butter
Heat cast iron skillet on low heat. While it's warming, peel your apples and cut into small chunks (bigger than a dice). Toss the apples, sugar, and butter into the skillet and stir. Stir occasionally and cook until apples are slightly darker, soft, and smell radiant.
Walnuts:
1/3 C walnut pieces
1 T sugar
2 t unsalted butter
In skillet, heat ingredients together, stirring constantly, until sugar has melted and coated the walnuts. Spread out on sheet of wax paper and let cool. Resist urge to just eat them all.
Filling:
18 oz cream cheese, room temperature
1 T sour cream
2 large eggs (or 3 egg yolks if you've got 'em lying around)
2ish T brown sugar
1 t vanilla
1/4 t cinnamon
Beat cream cheese and sour cream in mixer until smooth and creamy. Add eggs and beat until incorporated. Add brown sugar (more to taste if you like it sweeter), vanilla, and cinnamon.
Cheesecake, assemble!! On top of cooled crust, pour thin layer of caramel and spread with the back of a spoon-- just enough to cover all of the crust. Tilt and turn to make sure it gets to all edges and corner. Sprinkle some of apple chunks over the caramel. Add about 1 T of caramel into the cream cheese and pour 2/3 filling evenly over top (you may need to spread around into pan with spatula. Reserve 1 T of caramel, but pour the rest into the remaining 1/3 filling and mix (do not scrape out caramel container yet). Add remaining apples to mixture and spread onto pan. Take reserved T of caramel and drizzle over filling. In the bowl that held the caramel, toss the walnuts in and stir to coat in what's left of the caramel. Sprinkle around pan. Put cheesecake in the over until set, about 45-50 minutes. Cool completely and refrigerate for several hours until chilled.
* * *
You made it! Hopefully, by now you're enjoying the fruits of your labor and the kitchen fairy has taken care of the mountain of dirty dishes that this recipe amassed. (Sorry about that). Cheesecake is a funny thing. It's one of those desserts that seems to carry with it this ridiculous notion that you need a special occasion to partake in one. That's nonsense. Side note: It's also one of those things that some dessert snobs tend to think a plain New York Style Cheesecake is the best there is. Those people are wrong. I'd take one banging Pumpkin Cheesecake with a Paula Dean-amount of butter in the crust any day. Key Lime Cheesecake? Praise Jesus. And I'd give my fourth toe for Chocolate Raspberry Truffle Cheesecake.
Anyway, this recipe came about because I happened to find a box of Pumpkin Spice Frosted Flakes on clearance for $1.25, heard my weight's worth in apples calling to me from the crisper drawer, had leftover spiced walnuts from the week's salad lunches (if you're going to eat salad for lunch, why not throw on nuts cooked in sugar and butter, amiright?), was pondering how to use those three lonely yolks left over from an egg-whites only recipe, and had exactly 1/2 C + 1 T of sour cream (and no cream, which is usually what is used in making caramel) left that was about to go bad.
And I needed something to bake something that was gluten free.
And for the love of all that is Fall, apples and caramel and walnuts are a fantastic combination.
And cheesecake is amazing and life is too short to wait until you're dressed all fancy or wearing a party hat to eat cheesecake.
So if you have looked at this recipe and said to yourself, "I love a good cheesecake, but this recipe is about 12 miles long," fear not. Change the silly thing. By all means, alter it to your heart's delight! Don't layer it if you prefer not to! Use graham crackers instead of cereal! Go crazy and add more cinnamon! Use more apples! Use store-bought caramel!
(Actually, no, don't do that. Homemade caramel is easy, cheap, and SO MUCH MORE FREAKING DELICIOUS).
Ultimately, I jotted this down so I can remember what I created and do it again in the future. But hopefully you're able to make some ordinary day more extraordinary.
2.16.2018
Why I Will See 3 O'Clock Twice Today
It is presently 5:16am and I have been awake for several hours. This time, I can't blame the baby or the insomnia. My soul is troubled. My soul is troubled in a way that glossy-eyed scrolling through social media, dominoes on my cell phone, and watching one more cute corgi video will not distract.
In April 1999, I was a 14-year old freshman whose naive bubble got a little bit deflated when I saw headlines of a horrific school shooting that took place several states away. I devoured two books about lives of two 17-year old Christian girls whose lives were taken in hopes of wrapping my head around any possible good that might have come out of the tragedy.
In April 2007, I was a month away from being a college graduate when Facebook notifications began rolling in from long-time friends who attended a university expressing confusion, fear, anger, and pain over their classmates' lives who were either confirmed dead by gun-shot or not yet accounted for. A week later, my university went on lock-down when two armed suspects were spotted near the student union building.
In April 2011, I was an elementary school music teacher who had just taped construction paper over the door windows and was frantically trying to keep my 27 sixth graders quiet during the excruciatingly long intruder drill. As police and their K-9 unit ran through the halls, shaking door handles and shouting, I found myself conflicted in reassuring the obviously fearful students that this was "just a drill" and whisper-scolding the ones whose fear masqueraded in thinly-veiled bravado and sarcasm.
It is now February 2018. I have a daughter who is the most precious, beautiful child I have ever laid eyes on. One day far too soon, I am going to have to have a discussion with her about the bad things that happen in the world. Yes, we will talk about sin and the heart. Yes, we will talk about alerting the authorities if she sees something potentially harmful. Yes, we will talk about recognizing and taking care of your needs-- physical, emotional, and mental. Yes, we will talk about doing the right thing and trying to protect others within your abilities. Yes, we will talk about how it's the job of parents to raise their children to be kind and respectful toward others. Yes, we will talk about mourning with others who are hurting. Then, we will not only talk about praying, but we will actually pray for and with people those who are in pain. If she wants to learn how to hunt or skeet shoot, I will absolutely educate her on gun safety.
But we will also talk about how we live in a country with elected government officials who we choose because we hope that they will help our city, state, and country be a safer place to live. And we will talk about the fact that sometimes we have to give up things that we want or desire to do because it isn't good or safe for us or others. And we will talk about how tradition and the excuse that "it has always been done this way" is not a good enough reason not to seek new, creative solutions to challenging problems. And we will talk about having courage to recognize when talking is no longer enough, but action is required.
I am not ready to have those conversations and I am grateful that I do not have to yet. For those of you who have and are currently, I will covet your knowledge and experience when that time comes. But right now, I am going to go hold my tiny 14-pound human and watch puppy YouTube videos.
In April 1999, I was a 14-year old freshman whose naive bubble got a little bit deflated when I saw headlines of a horrific school shooting that took place several states away. I devoured two books about lives of two 17-year old Christian girls whose lives were taken in hopes of wrapping my head around any possible good that might have come out of the tragedy.
In April 2007, I was a month away from being a college graduate when Facebook notifications began rolling in from long-time friends who attended a university expressing confusion, fear, anger, and pain over their classmates' lives who were either confirmed dead by gun-shot or not yet accounted for. A week later, my university went on lock-down when two armed suspects were spotted near the student union building.
In April 2011, I was an elementary school music teacher who had just taped construction paper over the door windows and was frantically trying to keep my 27 sixth graders quiet during the excruciatingly long intruder drill. As police and their K-9 unit ran through the halls, shaking door handles and shouting, I found myself conflicted in reassuring the obviously fearful students that this was "just a drill" and whisper-scolding the ones whose fear masqueraded in thinly-veiled bravado and sarcasm.
It is now February 2018. I have a daughter who is the most precious, beautiful child I have ever laid eyes on. One day far too soon, I am going to have to have a discussion with her about the bad things that happen in the world. Yes, we will talk about sin and the heart. Yes, we will talk about alerting the authorities if she sees something potentially harmful. Yes, we will talk about recognizing and taking care of your needs-- physical, emotional, and mental. Yes, we will talk about doing the right thing and trying to protect others within your abilities. Yes, we will talk about how it's the job of parents to raise their children to be kind and respectful toward others. Yes, we will talk about mourning with others who are hurting. Then, we will not only talk about praying, but we will actually pray for and with people those who are in pain. If she wants to learn how to hunt or skeet shoot, I will absolutely educate her on gun safety.
But we will also talk about how we live in a country with elected government officials who we choose because we hope that they will help our city, state, and country be a safer place to live. And we will talk about the fact that sometimes we have to give up things that we want or desire to do because it isn't good or safe for us or others. And we will talk about how tradition and the excuse that "it has always been done this way" is not a good enough reason not to seek new, creative solutions to challenging problems. And we will talk about having courage to recognize when talking is no longer enough, but action is required.
I am not ready to have those conversations and I am grateful that I do not have to yet. For those of you who have and are currently, I will covet your knowledge and experience when that time comes. But right now, I am going to go hold my tiny 14-pound human and watch puppy YouTube videos.
10.19.2016
An Unsexy and Unpolitical Post About an Unsexy and Unpolitical Discussion
Dust off those imaginations with me for a moment. I promise, it won't hurt. Now let's pretend, just for a minute-- are you ready?-- that we don't all know everything.
Whew. Still with me? Good. Moving on.
Unless you have been hibernating under a moon rock, the fact that a growing list of individuals claiming that the current Republican Presidential nominee sexually assaulted them has been all over everything, everywhere, should not come as news to you. I've heard everyone from television personalities to the couple selecting chips in the grocery store to the second graders in children's church talking about it. At the risk of adding white noise to an already extremely contentious discussion, I'd like to suggest that the present discourse is lacking two key elements: humility and compassion.
First up, humility. This election is unlike any other in history and media sensationalism is unlike I've ever seen. So, too, is the seeming wide-spread assumption that we all possess secret knowledge about these politicians' and women's motives. "Isn't the timing of these allegations surfacing obviously just a publicity stunt?" "Are they embellishing their account for shock factor?" "Why would any rational human being wait so many years before publicly facing their abuser?" Listen. I have no idea if these accounts are true or not. I don't know what motivated each woman to step into the spotlight at this particular time. Countless speculations are out there and that's not what I intend to address.
Humility matters because it admits our inability to know these women's motives for remaining silent and, also, for stepping up to speak. It is much easier to denounce these individuals as frauds and liars and attention-seekers when they are just names in an article or unfamiliar faces on a screen. (I'm going to assume that anyone reading this probably doesn't personally know any of these women). But what if that face on the screen belonged to daughter? Your sister? Your best friend? Your significant other?
Can I get a bit personal for a minute? The past weekish has been pretty uncomfortable for a lot of us who have personally been sexually assaulted. Yes, I am sure the language repeated throughout the media rattles some, but for most of us, it goes much deeper. Regardless of the form of sexual assault, its potential to heap fear, shame, guilt, and hopelessness onto a person is extremely real and affecting. Fear, for instance, that you will share something deeply personal only to have your experience dismissed, downplayed, or disbelieved. Fear that the aggressor, if confronted, will only get a slap on the wrist and continue, or worse yet, turn the tables against you, the victim (as is very possible with a charismatic person or someone with power) and slander your reputation. Fear that reporting what should be reported will mean having to recount the details of your very personal trauma to strangers and acquaintances alike. Shame that your physical person has been violated and that violation transcends beyond the physical to the emotional, mental, and possibly, spiritual as well. Shame that taunts, "You are weak and cannot protect yourself." Shame that belittles, "You belong to someone else and shall be treated as they see fit." Shame that stares back in the mirror at the bruises or marks and mocks, "You are tainted and everyone else can see it just as plainly as you do in the mirror now." Guilt that weighs down each day with the accusation that you brought this upon yourself somehow. Guilt that sneeringly suggests, "By doing or wearing such and such, you were basically begging for it." Guilt that maybe you could have stopped or prevented it if you had responded differently. Guilt that can paralyze from seeking comfort in religious circles for fear of appearing less pure or "less Christian." Hopelessness that publicly recounting your nightmare will only serve as a more constant reminder of an instance you would prefer forget happened. Hopelessness that the only result of ever saying anything will be pity. Hopelessness that it often comes down to one person's word against another and the law will fail you. Hopelessness that hints that maybe it's just easier to attempt to numb or repress the pain than face it.
So please. Do me and every other woman or man who has been sexually assaulted a favor and consider these public allegations with a strong dose of humility. To you, it may seem implausible that legitimate victims would have chosen to go public with their stories of harassment or assault until this particular moment in time. But without bearing in mind that you do not know their motives, however unintentional, the strong doubt cast upon these possible victims may confirm the feelings of fear, shame, guilt, and hopelessness that your daughter or sister or best friend or significant other may be plagued with.
While many applauded the First Lady's passionate speech fervently, many others responded with trite memes, cries of hypocrisy for inviting rap artists to the White House, comparisons of how what was dismissed as "locker room talk" is no worse than what is consumed as mass entertainment, or pointing back at a former President, in the same manner that a child might, and saying, "Oh yeeeeah? Well look at what HE did!" None of these responses, or the myriad of others like it, move the discussion forward in a helpful manner.
Can I suggest that a little compassion added to this discussion of sexual assault is long overdue? We are completely missing the point if, before resuming our political mudslinging, we neglect to stop and consider the very real fact that women and men (because, let's be honest, men are victimized too) are experiencing sexual assault every single day in ways that can define a person's view of self-worth. And these individuals aren't just faceless victims. They are your loved ones: friends or co-workers who may be watching to see how these conversations about traumatic sexual experiences unfold. Family members who may be watching YOUR response to these public allegations to gauge whether they can trust you with their private burdens.
So please, dear reader, before assuming you know why these women stepped into the spotlight to confront the Republican nominee when they did, proceed with caution and-- most importantly-- with humility and compassion.
Whew. Still with me? Good. Moving on.
Unless you have been hibernating under a moon rock, the fact that a growing list of individuals claiming that the current Republican Presidential nominee sexually assaulted them has been all over everything, everywhere, should not come as news to you. I've heard everyone from television personalities to the couple selecting chips in the grocery store to the second graders in children's church talking about it. At the risk of adding white noise to an already extremely contentious discussion, I'd like to suggest that the present discourse is lacking two key elements: humility and compassion.
First up, humility. This election is unlike any other in history and media sensationalism is unlike I've ever seen. So, too, is the seeming wide-spread assumption that we all possess secret knowledge about these politicians' and women's motives. "Isn't the timing of these allegations surfacing obviously just a publicity stunt?" "Are they embellishing their account for shock factor?" "Why would any rational human being wait so many years before publicly facing their abuser?" Listen. I have no idea if these accounts are true or not. I don't know what motivated each woman to step into the spotlight at this particular time. Countless speculations are out there and that's not what I intend to address.
Humility matters because it admits our inability to know these women's motives for remaining silent and, also, for stepping up to speak. It is much easier to denounce these individuals as frauds and liars and attention-seekers when they are just names in an article or unfamiliar faces on a screen. (I'm going to assume that anyone reading this probably doesn't personally know any of these women). But what if that face on the screen belonged to daughter? Your sister? Your best friend? Your significant other?
Can I get a bit personal for a minute? The past weekish has been pretty uncomfortable for a lot of us who have personally been sexually assaulted. Yes, I am sure the language repeated throughout the media rattles some, but for most of us, it goes much deeper. Regardless of the form of sexual assault, its potential to heap fear, shame, guilt, and hopelessness onto a person is extremely real and affecting. Fear, for instance, that you will share something deeply personal only to have your experience dismissed, downplayed, or disbelieved. Fear that the aggressor, if confronted, will only get a slap on the wrist and continue, or worse yet, turn the tables against you, the victim (as is very possible with a charismatic person or someone with power) and slander your reputation. Fear that reporting what should be reported will mean having to recount the details of your very personal trauma to strangers and acquaintances alike. Shame that your physical person has been violated and that violation transcends beyond the physical to the emotional, mental, and possibly, spiritual as well. Shame that taunts, "You are weak and cannot protect yourself." Shame that belittles, "You belong to someone else and shall be treated as they see fit." Shame that stares back in the mirror at the bruises or marks and mocks, "You are tainted and everyone else can see it just as plainly as you do in the mirror now." Guilt that weighs down each day with the accusation that you brought this upon yourself somehow. Guilt that sneeringly suggests, "By doing or wearing such and such, you were basically begging for it." Guilt that maybe you could have stopped or prevented it if you had responded differently. Guilt that can paralyze from seeking comfort in religious circles for fear of appearing less pure or "less Christian." Hopelessness that publicly recounting your nightmare will only serve as a more constant reminder of an instance you would prefer forget happened. Hopelessness that the only result of ever saying anything will be pity. Hopelessness that it often comes down to one person's word against another and the law will fail you. Hopelessness that hints that maybe it's just easier to attempt to numb or repress the pain than face it.
So please. Do me and every other woman or man who has been sexually assaulted a favor and consider these public allegations with a strong dose of humility. To you, it may seem implausible that legitimate victims would have chosen to go public with their stories of harassment or assault until this particular moment in time. But without bearing in mind that you do not know their motives, however unintentional, the strong doubt cast upon these possible victims may confirm the feelings of fear, shame, guilt, and hopelessness that your daughter or sister or best friend or significant other may be plagued with.
While many applauded the First Lady's passionate speech fervently, many others responded with trite memes, cries of hypocrisy for inviting rap artists to the White House, comparisons of how what was dismissed as "locker room talk" is no worse than what is consumed as mass entertainment, or pointing back at a former President, in the same manner that a child might, and saying, "Oh yeeeeah? Well look at what HE did!" None of these responses, or the myriad of others like it, move the discussion forward in a helpful manner.
Can I suggest that a little compassion added to this discussion of sexual assault is long overdue? We are completely missing the point if, before resuming our political mudslinging, we neglect to stop and consider the very real fact that women and men (because, let's be honest, men are victimized too) are experiencing sexual assault every single day in ways that can define a person's view of self-worth. And these individuals aren't just faceless victims. They are your loved ones: friends or co-workers who may be watching to see how these conversations about traumatic sexual experiences unfold. Family members who may be watching YOUR response to these public allegations to gauge whether they can trust you with their private burdens.
So please, dear reader, before assuming you know why these women stepped into the spotlight to confront the Republican nominee when they did, proceed with caution and-- most importantly-- with humility and compassion.
12.03.2015
It's [Not] the Most Wonderful Time of the Year
Christmas music has officially replaced the smooth soulfulness of Adele's "Hello" as the soundtrack of the season. The reminder that "the most wonderful time of the year" has arrived is jingled everywhere you go, from parking lots to the grocery store to the radio scan in the car. And to many, this rings true. The abundance of memories "of Christmases long, long ago" still holds a magical spell over the calendar-packing insanity that this month has become. While it may be true for you that the festive music, the scents of pine needles and sugar cookies, the big bows and striped wrapping, or the celebration of Christ's birth rekindle a spark of joy unlike any other month of the year, friend, can we be real together for a few minutes?
Behind many of those plastered on smiles you see bustling through the aisles is deep, wounded brokenness. Brokenness that barely musters the strength to acquiesce to "everyone telling you be of good cheer" with a smile, but that is still frantically attempting to patch up holes left by the recent loss of beloved grandparents. Brokenness that feels compelled to give an upbeat, optimistic answer to "how are things?" for fear that no one really wants to know how depressed the unfair, vindictive, forced resignation has made her because right now it does not feel like the "hap-happiest season of all." Brokenness that has made the office a second home because of the pain that he's not invited to those "gay, happy meetings" and no "friends come to call." Brokenness that has learned the safety of isolation after years of being torn down by the soul-crushing tongue of a resentful spouse, but who publicly goes through the rote motions of "much mistletoeing" though the heart isn't glowing since loved ones aren't near.
To the joyful friend who does believe this is the most wonderful time of the year, have you looked beyond her grin? Dear friend, have you noticed him? Are you too frantic "preparing Him room" that you neglect time to see those who need Him the most?
And to you, dear one, who tries to shove that brokenness in the closet because you feel you need to BE something else right now, know this: It's okay to not be okay.
I am pretty sure more of us fit into this second category than we'd like to admit. Will you allow me the honor to encourage you today? Trust one person enough to express that you're not okay; that this does NOT feel like the most wonderful time of the year. Allow someone else to bear your burden in love. If you don't know who you can trust with that, send me a message.
Behind many of those plastered on smiles you see bustling through the aisles is deep, wounded brokenness. Brokenness that barely musters the strength to acquiesce to "everyone telling you be of good cheer" with a smile, but that is still frantically attempting to patch up holes left by the recent loss of beloved grandparents. Brokenness that feels compelled to give an upbeat, optimistic answer to "how are things?" for fear that no one really wants to know how depressed the unfair, vindictive, forced resignation has made her because right now it does not feel like the "hap-happiest season of all." Brokenness that has made the office a second home because of the pain that he's not invited to those "gay, happy meetings" and no "friends come to call." Brokenness that has learned the safety of isolation after years of being torn down by the soul-crushing tongue of a resentful spouse, but who publicly goes through the rote motions of "much mistletoeing" though the heart isn't glowing since loved ones aren't near.
To the joyful friend who does believe this is the most wonderful time of the year, have you looked beyond her grin? Dear friend, have you noticed him? Are you too frantic "preparing Him room" that you neglect time to see those who need Him the most?
And to you, dear one, who tries to shove that brokenness in the closet because you feel you need to BE something else right now, know this: It's okay to not be okay.
I am pretty sure more of us fit into this second category than we'd like to admit. Will you allow me the honor to encourage you today? Trust one person enough to express that you're not okay; that this does NOT feel like the most wonderful time of the year. Allow someone else to bear your burden in love. If you don't know who you can trust with that, send me a message.
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