prepare
It seems as though all we do this time of year is prepare.
For me, I have to prepare everything ahead of the rest of the world, it seems. My family lives several states away, so that means shopping early and preparing the gifts to ship in time for when Christmas actually starts.
I usually take off time to go see them, so that means preparing weeks in advance for all the volunteers and teachers at the church, making sure they have everything they need for when I’m gone.
I prepare my house, trying to make it all feel festive by putting up a tree and pulling out all my favorite decorations.
This year, my heart is heavy. Well, it’s pretty much been heavy all year I guess. But this Christmas is particularly painful. Which I guess is fitting for Advent, right?
[Did you know that if you google the word “advent” right now, the headline “Kris Jenner, 59, Flashes Her Ample Cleavage, Shakes It With a Candy Cane for Love’s Latest Advent Calendar Video” comes up as fourth? Keep it classy, Kardashians.]
Most who know about Advent understand that it is about waiting and preparing. And most people in the world don’t even “celebrate” it anyway. This time of Advent is seen as Christmas… and it comes as soon as Thanksgiving is over for the diehards who hold out. Others start celebrating in August when the stores first put out their Christmas decorations. But they celebrate Christmas. Not Advent.
The duality of Advent hurts my heart.
The waiting to celebrate the birth of the baby Jesus, who came to rescue me. [Joy]
The waiting for him to return and makes all things right. [Hope]
Joy in salvation.
Hope in what seems like will never come.
My heart hurts.
Come, Lord Jesus.
Prepare him room.
when I think about leaving
I think about the time I had you over to watch a movie with a bunch of others and you inspected my bookcase just to make sure we could be friends.
I think about that time I was at your house until 3am playing “Your Best Life Now” and you fell off your chair laughing.
I think about the time we sat at a table at a church potluck together and suddenly I thought it might actually work to stay.
I think about the time you showed up at my door with two other friends, with me expecting the two of us to go have breakfast, but instead you all plowed your way into my home with donuts and a puzzle.
I think about the time we sat for hours while I crocheted and you sewed something and we sang to The Sound of Music at the top of our lungs. (And I recorded it on my phone to use for blackmail later.)
I think about the time you collapsed onto my sofa and declared you were moving in because it was so much better than yours.
I think about the time you paid your son to take credit for one of your moments of, ahem, “flatulence” and we never laughed so hard together.
I think about the time you walked me to my car after watching that movie at Harkins, and we talked about life and culture and movies and Jesus. And you hugged me for the first time and I knew I loved you.
I think about that time I got a friend request from you and we hadn’t even met yet.
I think about the first time I told you I wanted to punch someone in the throat and somehow, that didn’t scare you. (Well, maybe it did a little.)
I think about wrestling with 2 Corinthians 5 together, with our bibles open and our assumptions set.
I think about that time when you called me because you saw something I posted on Instagram and you made me cry. I don’t like to cry in front of you.
I think about the time you licked the knee of a fellow small group member and they still haven’t recovered because of their germ phobia.
I think about the time you taught me how to make fondant from marshmallows and my hands turned pink.
I think about when you and I cried together over a loss and we were never the same after that.
I think about the first time you texted me a gif and our communication was altered forever. Still not sure if that’s a good thing, though.
I think about the first I had a martini at Bedillons and we all gathered together in the back room and celebrated being together.
I think about the time I gave you bacon and you hung it on your tree.
I think about the time you looked me in the eye and knew what I was feeling and all we could do was just hug and know that our hearts were very old friends.
I think about painting polka dots and chai tea.
I think about that time sitting on your back porch when it rained, while your dog snuggled up next to me and we ate frosted cinnamon rolls and drank coffee.
I think about that Christmas gift I gave you that I knew you would be the only one to get it. Because us.
I think about getting pedicures with hot stone treatments and giggling.
I think about Trump’s lips and Jesus take the wheel.
I think about hundreds of mini muffins and you with a timer.
I think about hundreds of mini muffins and you with a timer.
I think about the white buffalo. I think about music.
I think about phone calls… so many phone calls… and coffee and blankets and pillows and backyards and sweeping and laughter. So much laughter.
I think about phone calls… so many phone calls… and coffee and blankets and pillows and backyards and sweeping and laughter. So much laughter.
When I think about leaving I think of all this. I think about you. And I think about how I don’t want to go.
the hush of advent
On the Meyer’s Briggs personality test, I am an INFJ. When I first tested for this in seminary, I was borderline N/S and F/T. Then when I had to do my family genogram (http://www.genopro.com/genogram/) for my Marriage and Family Counseling class, I discovered something very interesting. I had my immediate family all take the Meyers Briggs and the rest of my family all tested as S’s and as T’s. My counseling professor (Dr. Zink) told me this is why I am on the borderline of both N and F, saying that I was probably naturally an N and F, but my environment (i.e. family) forced me into acting more like an S and a T. (Then, of course, I recall how Dr. Zink told me those were the two that are the hardest to be different from your family. Story of my life – once a black sheep, always a black sheep.)
What does this have to do with Advent? Weirdly enough, snow.
Those of you who’ve read my blog for a while know the love affair I have with snow. It’s God’s cruel joke that he called me to a church in southern Arizona, because of how much I love snow. I love that after the beautiful fall colors fade to brown, snow blankets the earth with sparkly white jewels than shine in the sun. Snow settles the earth down, because people don’t like to drive in the snow (it’s dangerous). They don’t go outside (because it’s too cold). Snow makes the word stop. So it should be with my heart and Advent.
I think there is some beauty with Advent being the start of the church calendar and it’s a season of waiting. “Be still before the LORD and wait patiently for him;” – Ps. 37:7
We are called to wait for the revealing of God’s will in our everyday life. The season of Advent is about celebrating the second coming of Jesus, which hasn’t come yet. So we wait. Advent is not part of Christmas. It’s preparation for Christmas. It’s preparation for his arrival. Because I’m introverted, I prepare in a “put my head down” kind of way. I’d much rather be in my head, think it all through, then carefully work through it outside myself. I don’t always get that luxury, but that is my preferred way of functioning.
This is where I am making the connection – the “S” side of me (the sensing side, which prefers experience over intuition, the concrete over the subjective.) In other words, the things which use our 5 senses: touch, smell, site, hear, taste. For me, seeing snow sends me inside… it makes me quit and reflective. Snow does, in many ways, represent a kind of death for me. The bugs die, the plants die, the grass dies. My environment of snow is a way the sensing side of me triggered my heart and mind to become reflective. Snow is a way the world is hushed.
But here in Arizona, the season of Advent is when you go outside. It’s 70 and beautiful. The sun shines, it’s finally comfortable weather after 6 months of 100 degree temps. This is not the time southern Arizonacalms down. This is the time it comes alive. Winter visitors come in droves, traffic picks up, tons of bicyclists hit the road. This is not a quiet time for Arizona. And my brain, after years of living in the snow in December, is wired to shut down this time of year. And I realized this is always helped me celebrate Advent properly.
This particular season of Advent is very much about unrest. Which should point me to hope. And, unfortunately, all it’s doing is helping me see just how big my lack of trust in Him is in the midst of this unrest. This time of waiting in about hope… and right now it’s hard for me to have hope. Which directly correlates to my lack of trust.
Needing a prayer for this season of Advent, that I would be strengthened in my ability to trust in him.
So I Was Nominated…
I’m honored to have received a nomination for the Liebster Award by Karen Brown over at Stooping for Manna. Karen is a dear person in my life, who God only placed into my life for a season, but our connection has long passed the time we had together in the same city and the same church. I am grateful for her encouragement and her amazing spirit and what it has brought to my life.
Here is her shout out: “Stephanie has a way of slowing down moments and inviting her readers into them- so that you must feel, think, and experience as a reader. She is an honest and brave writer, and beautiful friend.” Um… yeah. Speechless.
Liebster is a German word that encompasses the following meanings: dearest, sweetest, kindest, lovely, and valued. That’s a great word to name an award after.
Nominating someone for the Leibster is like giving credit to someone who has a blog that you would like to bring attention to. It’s a way that we, small-fry bloggers, can cheer each other on.
The rules are that I must give five fun facts about myself, answer the five questions posed to me by Karen, then… I get to nominate five others.
So here goes…
Five Fun Facts About Stephanie:
1. I knew God called me to lifelong ministry while in a van riding through the mountains of Colorado, with a friend’s feet in my lap, and Mere Christianity in my hand.
2. I got lost on the Metro in Paris when I was 19. It would have been terrifying if I wasn’t with three other girls who made me laugh during the whole experience.
3. One of the major events that changed my life involved a needing a locksmith, freezing cold weather and a neighbor who didn’t own a phone book. But seriously, who needed one anyway, with Al Gore’s internet invention?
4. Six months after I picked up the guitar, for my dad’s birthday present, I surprised him by playing a guitar solo for the first time during a communion service. I played his favorite song “Amazing Grace” and he cried. I won’t ever play that song for anyone else.
5. One of my favorite things is snow. I don’t enjoy driving in it, obviously. But I love how it takes a brown and dead and barren land and makes it shimmer and look beautiful again. I haven’t seen snow in two years. 😦
Questions (nominees, answer these as well):
1. Why do you blog?
Because I don’t know what I think and feel until I write it.
2. What are your spiritual gifts?
In a generic spiritual gift test, teaching, wisdom and leadership are my top three. My motivational spiritual gift is mercy. (i.e., my motivation for all other gifts is based in compassion for others.)
3. What was your favorite class in college?
Since seminary was more recent for me, I’m going to pick a class from that instead of college. And my favorite class was on the book of Joshua. Not because the book of Joshua is all that fascinating or that I loved the professor, but because it was there that I learned how to exegete a passage of scripture, which is an amazing skill to have been taught. It also opened up my eyes to both and beauty and the destruction of the Old Testament, God’s character, and human nature.
4. From where does your inspiration for your writing come?
My answer is identical to Karen’s: That’s easy. It comes from life. From what I read, what I experience, who I meet, and what I’m feeling. Organizing life into words on a page truly helps me process and make sense of it all.
5. If you had a warning label to wear, what would yours say?
“Warning: emotional baggage attached. This one is intense and serious. But if you can get past it, she’s not so bad.” (I think.)
And now it’s time for my own nominations. But first, here are the rules (if you can):
· post the award on your blog
· offer thanks and a link back to the blog/blogger who nominated you
· share five random facts about yourself
· nominate five other bloggers who you believe deserve the award and have less than 500 followers
· answer the questions and ask five of your own
I went through the list of bloggers I read on a regular bases, but all have more than 500 followers. So, sadly, I cannot fulfill all of the rules… Sorry!
leave
I find myself checking my phone a lot lately.
My email. My phone log, my text messages. Every few minutes. Just in case I missed it.
I have a hard time leaving those I love. I even tend to hang on and stay long past the expiration date. It’s funny, though, but I generally don’t see myself as a hopeful person. But hope is the only thing that keeps me from leaving.
Hope is holding me captive.
This seems like this should be a good thing, no?
Not if it’s false hope. Then my heart will just continue to break and I will waste my time, energy and most of, my love… on this “hope.”
Walking away is hard. Because when someone has crawled into your heart (and in my case, they normally fight like hell to get there) it’s very near impossible to let them go. There are very few people in my life who I consider close friends, and even fewer I count as those who get me. I don’t have the emotional energy to spend on frivolous small talk, because I seek deeper connections because that is what makes sense to me. I am picky with whom I invest my time, because I prefer to reserve my time for those who reflect sincerity and authenticity…
and who are not afraid of mine.
Do you have any idea how rare that is to come by? And it takes me a long time to trust others, so if you’ve made it this far with me it’s for a very intentional reason.
That’s why it’s so hard for me to leave. Because I don’t want to.
But sometimes I have to.
*this post was inspired by an old Five Minute Friday prompt word that I never got around to writing about.
Stephanie Nelson 