on christmas miracles

Having access to a small child during Christmas is a Christmas miracle in and of itself.  The leap is short from bored to ecstatic, from tired to all-in for another cookie, from uncomfortable to totally delighted by the wonder of it all.  I treasure watching kids love all of it, and I am very lucky to have a 2 year old, who imitates our excitement while somehow showing us how to live during Advent.  She has no clue who Santa is, but she loves to steal Baby Jesus’ from every manger scene she can reach.  She has no idea why people keep offering her “tandies” and “tookties” (she is not what I would call “crushing it” in the speech department), but she greets each opportunity as if it is the first and maybe last time anyone will ever offer her a tasty treat again.  She enters each negotiation as if her life and joy depend on her ability to get that Christmas goodness into her mouth as soon as possible.

“This Christmas, look around and notice all the ways that God is, indeed, wonderfully, with us.”

My favorite part of parenting this Advent though, has been the way she has become my own personal Hark!-er.  Every time her eye glimpses anything that could be loosely associated with Christmas, she squeals and points and too loudly announces, “Isstmass!” Decorative lights, Christmas trees, large yard camels (where do they all come from?), presents, abundant plates of food, pianos, Santa hats, animated tv shows, sweaters (festive or just ugly), the smell of apple cider…she greets all of it with the cry of Isstmass!  Walking through the world with my own little angel intent on announcing the presence of joyful things has been utterly delightful this month.

It has also been a helpful reminder that there are signs of Christmas all around, and perhaps we would all do well to pay better attention.  In honor of my speech-impeded, cookie-hogging, Jesus-stealing daughter, this week I offer my own sightings of Isstmass, in hopes that you can also begin to notice the Christmas miracles around you.

A dear friend was diagnosed with breast cancer 3 months ago, and after 2 difficult surgeries, multiple drains, weeks isolated in bed, she is up again, the heart and soul of her family, a picture of compassion to so many others, celebrating Hanukkuh with deep gratitude for the everyday chaos of life.  A picture of Isstmass!

A young woman came over for dinner last week, struggling through a long day full of bad news. As she sat at our table and said she would be taking a break from college in order to get a job and work on her own mental health, she was full of hope.  She has worked so hard to stay in counseling and find the right meds, and last week I saw the foundation of hope and health she has been laying all these months.  Her bad day did not wreck her, and that looked an awful lot like Isstmass to me.

I saw a group of people, distinct in race, class, denomination, gender and zip code, come together to plan and host a conference on the injustices many marginalized folks of Nashville face.  The planning was slow and messy, and some walked away, but those of us who stayed got to see a picture of the Kingdom of God…what it is and what it could be if the people of God would commit to loving their neighbors with the same extravagant love they reserve for themselves.  Felt like Isstmass.

A friend took dinner to a family shelter serving homeless folks in Nashville.  She and her kids were thankful for the time they spent talking and playing with these kids and their parents.  In fact, she was so moved by the courage of the families there that she called me to say, “Let’s throw a Christmas party where people bring items for the apartments these families will one day have.”  She decided to use her sphere of influence to create joy and to surround vulnerable people with support.  She radiates Isstmass.

My college students prepared presentations on their time volunteering in various Nashville non-profits, and as they reflected on their own biases, they were able to see their privilege, the injustice of the status quo for so many others, and begin to ponder how they can be advocates and allies for others.  Isstmass.

I saw the people of Alabama refuse to give more power to a man known to manipulate young girls with his influence…even if it cost them politically and maybe financially.  Isstmass.

I saw a friend who does not have a job, but is busy doing the work of God’s kingdom in the meantime.  He is not consumed with worry for his future, but with a commitment to be a man who lives and talks and looks and acts like Jesus in his world.  Isstmass.

I saw families celebrating birthdays, laughing together and loving each other even amidst great differences in the way they see (and vote in) the world.  Isstmass.

I saw a couple who shared a deeply painful and exposing story with a group at church be met with empathy, gratitude, connection and love.  Isstmass.

I saw someone apologize for his behavior even though he was still shaking with anger and sadness at the situation which warranted his wrath.  Isstmass.

I saw my children “fight the greed!” that can creep in this time of year, when promises are made to grant their every desire.  Isstmass.

“We need helpful reminders that there are signs of Christmas all around, and perhaps we would do well to pay better attention.”

Advent is a time to reflect on the coming of a Messiah who will rescue and restore the world to God, justifying all, removing shame and bringing a life of flourishing.  The promised one was to be called Emmanuel, or “God with us.”  This Christmas, look around and notice all the ways that God is, indeed, wonderfully, with us.  With us in struggle and disappointment and fear and lack, and surely with us in lives saved, in mental health restored, in hope, in courage, in empathy, in compassion and in living a life where looks of “Wonder!” and cries of “Isstmasss!” are too many to count.

on thanksgiving

It is strange to think Americans have a holiday set aside for gratitude, as if we accidently still believe that saying thank you is so important we need some time off to do it properly.  I love it.  I love the fact that it is a 4 day holiday for many people, a holiday in which the stressful part happens on the first day, leaving 3 days to just be.  The first time my husband and I decided not to do the Thanksgiving Dash, where we tried to see our two families in two different states in five days, we felt like we had discovered the country’s best-kept secret.  It was like a Christmas Miracle to spend a day watching parades while we cooked scrumptious food for friends, followed by a 3-day pajama/football/leftover fest.  If you have never not travelled, I highly recommend it!  For this week set aside to give thanks, I offer a few moments of gratitude….

“ In my life I have found that the degree to which I recognize my own vulnerability—confessing it to God and others—is the degree to which I am able to create space for others to recognize their vulnerabilities.  ”

I’m grateful to know my need.  This year has shown me that I am vulnerable, and that I am privileged to live a life in which my vulnerability is not evident to all.  But it’s there, and my efforts to conceal it or expose it deeply shape the way I engage with others.  In my life I have found that the degree to which I recognize my own vulnerability—confessing it to God and others—is the degree to which I am able to create space for others to recognize their vulnerabilities.  When I hold my own desperation loosely, allowing it to shape my identity, I am better able to see and interact with people who struggle with their own insecurities by offering them dignifying compassion and empathetic companionship.  I am thankful for an increasing awareness of my need.

I am grateful for the circle of failure I am in.  (Let’s be honest, most days I am NOT grateful for failure in myself or others.)  I can’t deny that this year I have had to work relentlessly to battle despair, anger and cynicism, and yet I have often fundamentally failed at basic civil relationships.  I have been profoundly lonely, alienated from the people I grew up around, from fellow citizens, and from many people who claim the same Christ I love.  Being ticked all the time doesn’t work though.  I am grateful for a growing awareness that I cannot live reacting with anger and judgment.  I am working to find another way to appreciate others, even when they baffle me.  I am working to replace judgment with curiosity, cynicism with hope, and apathy with constructive engagement.  This work is miraculously beginning to change my instincts: If I believe all people are created in the image of God then I cannot dismiss anyone as ridiculous, bigoted or unworthy.  This awareness is forcing me to lean on grace, to rely consistently on a force outside myself to care well for others.  It requires me to realize that ‘there but by the grace of God go I’ into grudge-holding and finger-pointing meanness too.  I am grateful that I am constantly aware that I have a huge capacity to dismiss and judge others, and that it takes miraculous intervention to live differently.

“ Protesting unjust systems is not bad manners, but an acknowledgement of entrenched injustice and a belief that we the people can form a more perfect union together.”

Finally, I am thankful for discomfort.  Protests make me uncomfortable, because I instinctively think there must be another way.  A nicer way.  A less disruptive way.  A more mannerly way.  However, immediately questioning the motives or methods of every protest suggests that the status quo is always just.  The status quo is not just for all people.  I have discovered this year that my discomfort with protest is not about the disruption or the activism; I believe both are necessary when we live in a racial and socioeconomic hierarchy.  Our laws and habits and systems are wrong all the time, and we have to work together to improve them.  Protesting unjust systems is not bad manners, but an acknowledgement of entrenched injustice and a belief that we the people can form a more perfect union together.  My discomfort comes from the binary reaction to such protests.  If you support Black Lives Matter then you must loathe police.  If you kneel during the anthem then you have no respect for our military.  On the other hand, if you are pro law-and-order, you must be a bigot.  If you think it is disrespectful to kneel, then you are racist.  These reactions enflame our worst projections, and prevent nuanced conversation.  They are labels and positions that do not reflect the vast majority of us.  They ignore the possibility that we could listen to learn instead of blindly reacting to each other in anger.  They destroy the likely reality that most of us can find merit in the perspectives of both sides.  I am grateful this year for these lessons, lessons I only learned because so many brave officers, protestors, veterans and players decided to stand or kneel or march or listen or speak up for vulnerable others.  I am grateful to realize that each of these issues is not two-sided, but multifaceted and complicated, and require us to all work together.  I am thankful my discomfort with our reactions to protests taught me to find another way, to educate myself and others, and to get involved in legally changing unjust laws and practices. 

“This awareness is forcing me to lean on grace, to rely consistently on a force outside myself to care well for others.”

In short, need, failure and discomfort have been my greatest teachers this year, and I am profoundly thankful.  These experiences sometimes result in despair, blame and anger, but they are more often leading me to see how I have been part of the problem, and I can work to become a part of a way forward.  Perhaps we could all do well to shout fewer positions and instead ask more questions.  Maybe we could all do well to point fewer fingers and instead listen to our own unfair and angry inner voices?  Might we all do well to examine our need, our failure and our discomfort for the gifts hidden therein?

Happy Turkeys, all!  Next week, I will begin writing about Advent, a season of expectancy important to those in the Christian faith.