'Tis the Season: Part Two

Since today marks the first real snowfall of this winter, I figured today was a good day to continue my series on Christmas. We're just eleven days away, folks! This Sunday my father-in-law preached on Joseph. Interestingly, I had been thinking about Joseph for about a week before he preached that message. I've always applied Mary's story to my life, probably because as a teenage girl she was the most relatable character for me. Her lessons about accepting God's will and being a servant were always a pivotal part of the Christmas story to me. This year, however, it has been Joseph that has struck a bolder note for me. I think it has something to do with my position in life.

All the past years I've been learning from the Christmas story, I've been a young woman under my father's roof, looking forward to a future that had not quite arrived. I could relate more to Mary: still a young woman, still under or just barely out of her father's care, overwhelmed by the changes in her life. This year, however, I've moved past that stage. My future is here. I'm struggling to find my way, with a partner but independent from the authority of my parents. Just in my four months as a married woman I have seen multiple times how plans change at the moment I think I have them figured out.

I think that's why I feel drawn to Joseph's story this year. He was a young man stepping out into his future. His whole life was figured out and going well: he had been promised a beautiful, godly young wife, he had a career in carpentry, he was planning to take his place as a member of his religious and cultural community. He knew the challenges ahead. Caring for a wife, and eventually a family, was not an easy task. He would work hard, pray hard, and he would have a good life. He hoped to be respected, maybe even admired, for his faithfulness and dedication.

Then his wife-to-be showed up pregnant. In an instant, every plan he had made was thrown into chaos. On the surface, there was one explanation: Mary was not the godly, faithful girl he believed her to be. Her situation was disgraceful, shameful to herself and to him. Who could respect a man whose own wife would do such a disrespectful thing? He would have to divorce her, and his dream of a happy family life would be gone. It was a terrifying change of plans. But the other option was still more terrifying: Mary was telling the truth. The concept itself was hard enough to grasp: Mary was carrying the Messiah he had been waiting for all his life. That she was still faithful and pure was a relief, but what was he to do now? Could he be the earthly father to the Son of God? How would people look at him if he did not divorce the woman they thought was an adulteress? The quiet, moderately successful life he wanted was but a memory of a dream.

Joseph doesn't play as central a part in the Christmas story as does Mary or Christ the baby Himself. He is given guidance in dreams to keep his family safe, and then he fades into the back ground of the "silent night" picture of the mother and child. While Mary "treasured up all these things and pondered them", Joseph's reaction to the shepherds and their tales of singing angels, to the wise men and their precious gifts, to Simeon and Anna in the temple, is never recorded. I think, though, that he must have treasured those things, too. He must have been stunned by the direction his life had taken, how he was thrust from normalcy and mundanity onto an exciting, supernatural, and sometimes frightening new path. I wonder if he often thanked God for his life and all its trials. I wonder if, every now and then, he wished he had his old life back because of the stresses he faced.

I also wonder if I will ever have the strength, courage, and consistency that shine through in Joseph's limited scenes. What an intimidating challenge he faced; what a thrilling and frightening life he led! In my whole life I will never deal with anything close to the ordeals he did. I can only hope I will handle them with the same solidness and faith.

'Tis The Season (Part 1)

It's here: the holiday season. Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Year's; a season full of family, friends, and food. It's the season that every television show, newspaper, website, and yes, blog, has an obligatory holiday episode or entry. And who am I to disappoint? I am thoroughly in the Christmas spirit (probably part of the reason for my lack of entries here) and this is a bit of a landmark holiday season for me.

Wait: did I says "a bit"? This is a gigantic landmark for me! This is my first holiday living away from my parents' home. It's my first Christmas with my husband, the first time I've been in charge of decorations, and the longest gift list I've ever had! I was going to try to write one entry with my thoughts on this Christmas, but partway through I realized there was a little too much to cover in one entry. Therefore, I've planned a (possibly) short series on the different events of the Christmas season.

I have always loved Christmas. Whether it was family feasts at my grandfather's house, bringing out the decorations with my mom, or passing out gloves and hats at the rescue mission on Christmas morning, it's always been a magical time. This year, things have changed dramatically. Suddenly I'm in charge of engineering Christmas for Derrin and myself (the frivolous part of Christmas that comes from us humans, anyway). The decorations, the tree, the smells and sounds that make up the aura of the holiday season, will not happen on their own.

This realization led to an enthusiastic trip to Wal-Mart and a full cart. Then the budget element sank in, and that cart was pared down to what I saw as a few necessary elements of Christmas cheer. My New York parents furnished us with a cute little 4-foot tree, which I adorned with a few ornaments, including an "Our First Christmas" ornament that Derrin thoughtfully brought home.  Derrin did the honors of topping the tree with the quintessential newlywed topper: a gold, sequined, cardboard star from the dollar store. A couple stockings on the wall, some snowflake mirror clings, and a wreath for the front door completed my humble decorating. And then my oh-so-festive husband accused me of overkill! I think, for a new bride decorating her first apartment, I showed commendable restraint. I hate to think of what he'll say when I decorate our first home together!

Now, I certainly don't have the ill-conceived notion that Christmas will not come on December 25th if I don't decorate. My parents were wonderful role models in illustrating exactly what Christmas was all about: Christ the baby, the love He showed for us and our responsibility to pass that love on to other people. I get frustrated with the stores that put up the Christmas shop before the Halloween stuff has gone on clearance, and I don't really want to hear the Christmas music start until after Thanksgiving. But I firmly believe that Christ would have no problem with His people celebrating His birthday with a month or two of festivity, warmth, and just a little bit of a magical feeling.

I've been good at not stressing myself out over what I can or can't do to get ready for Christmas (like my limited decor budget) and whether or not it's going to be perfect. After all, like I said... Jesus was born whether I have one wreath or two, or fake snow on my windows or not. Instead, I'm thoroughly enjoying spending a few weeks multiplying my excitement. Some people might say that I'm getting a little too wrapped up in the "material" side of Christmas. Yet with every Kenny Rogers Christmas song I hear and every new decoration I put up, I remind myself again of the day--15 days from today--that Christ made His less than explosive yet spectacular entrance to the stage of the world.

Lesson: Keepin' It Real

Have you ever noticed how different people can be depending on the company they're in? I remember my sweet sixteen party. It was a surprise party at our church pavilion, and my mom had put together the guest list. She did a fantastic job corralling all of my friends--youth group, adults from church, friends from orchestra, and my whole family. Even at the time it occurred to me the challenge this demographic presented.

I, like everyone, have several different sides to my personality. While not to the extent of schizophrenia (though sometimes I wonder), it can be a dramatic difference. These aspects come out when the situation demands it. But when those personalities are forced to collide in one place, it can be quite a reality check! With the adults at my church, I mostly talked about my family and my plans for college. With my youth group friends, it was the youth events and the latest Sunday School lesson. At orchestra, I talked about music, school, and the boy in the orchestra I was head over heels for. Trying to figure out what to talk about, how to behave, when all those different social groups were present was awkward.

Sometimes, though, the way we behave in our social circles affects us more negatively than just a little bit of awkwardness when the circles overlap. Sometimes the way we behave in one group or another becomes not just a facet of our personality, but a behavior untrue to ourselves and our values. When I spent time talking to certain groups of friends, I tried too hard to be as "cool" as they were. They were older, more worldly, and I envied the popular, exciting lives they had. But trying to be like them meant compromising a lot of the standards I had set for myself, in speech if not in deed. That was typical teenage peer pressure, but it happens at every age in every circle.

Now, I have a few distinct social groups. I have my Maryland family, my New York family, my church friends, and my work friends, plus the friends I talk to from back home. I've found myself having to be very careful how I behave with each. I don't want to be a different person in each group I'm with. I may talk about different subjects at worship practice than I do at work, but I should be just as real in one as in the other.

So how does my company affect how I talk about God? About my husband? My parents? Am I changing my convictions based on who is listening? I forget that there is one common listener to every conversation I have. He doesn't care whom I'm trying to impress or what people will think of me depending on what I say. His concern is that I stick to the teachings He gave and the values I believe in. He just wants me to be real--the real woman He designed me to be.

Lesson: Happyness

I watched the Will Smith movie "The Pursuit of Happyness" on late/early television tonight. It was the second time I had seen the movie, so I got to enjoy it a little more deeply. It's a brilliant, heartbreaking film. Plus, his kid is so adorable! As I watched the movie, I got the unavoidable guilt trip that I really have it better than I think I do. A roof, food, a strong family support system--all of these are things I take for granted sometimes, especially in the midst of a stressful time. But what especially struck me this time around was the quote at the very end of the movie.

"This part of my life, this little part... is called happiness."

I have some hard stuff happening in my life. Nothing compared to the man and his son in the movie, nothing compared to some of the people I know. Still, it's hard enough to cause me some stress, some tears, some sleepless nights (nights that the lack of sleep is not because I'm working, that is). But tonight I curled up with my husband in bed. He made me laugh. He kissed my cheek and stroked my hair. He fell asleep with my head on his shoulder and mumbled "I love you" when I got up and left for work. And this part of my life, this little part... is called happiness.

Lesson: The Plotline Problem

I've been writing ever since I can remember. Hidden somewhere in my boxes of books, next to textbooks and journals, are composition books filled with stories going as far back as three years old. Mommy took dictation as I told my stories and I went back later and illustrated with my markers and crayons. I may not have a very talented imagination, but it is very active nonetheless.

Naturally, an imagination like mine has affected in no small way how I view the world. I see life like a story. Did you ever read the Choose Your Own Adventure books? I've read almost every one of them, at least the ones that were available in my early teens. Life looks like that in my head, a string of plot elements tied together by the choices I, as the main character, make. I think that mindset is part of my problem solving process. I can make a clearer decision when I view it as a story that I'm writing, when I can separate myself from the situation.

Here's the problem: I cheated on the Choose Your Own Adventure books. I would keep my last five choices marked with a finger. It would have been more, but I needed the fingers on the other hand to turn the page! If one of my choices ended badly--in death, defeat, or the compromise of something I had to protect--I would flip to the last choice and try again. If that didn't work, it was back to the one before that. Eventually I would get the outcome I was looking for. Hooray for me!

Needless to say... real life does not work like that. The adventures I choose stick. The plot changes I make to the ongoing story in my head are not something I can go back and revise at the end of the chapter. And the thing that is absolutely the most frustrating to me: I am not the only author of this story. Other things can make changes, too. It's maddening! Sometimes I just want to sit back and say, "No! This is my story! That's not how it's supposed to go!" I've actually tried that before. It didn't work.

Here are a few examples of things that didn't quite go according to the synopsis I had worked up for my autobiography: last year, one of my best friends decided she no longer wanted to be part of my life. Five months ago, I blew up my car engine on the side of the road, wrecking my carefully planned savings budget. And last week, my husband came home jobless. I'm sure this sounds like a very whiny paragraph, but I don't mean it that way. I'm just trying to illustrate some of the ways that I found out I'm not the one in charge of my own story.

So what am I supposed to do about it? I'm trying to craft a beautiful life story but I keep losing control of the pen. There comes a point (that point is now) when I have to realize I'm not supposed to be writing my own story. God is the one writing my story--all of our stories. He's been writing stories since the beginning of time--the Bible--and He's a lot better at it than I am. He is the master of subtle twists, continuous threads, dramatic climaxes and perfect endings. He knows how to use a negative plot element to thrust the glory of the resolution further into the light. How blessed I am to be a character in his literary masterpiece! Because
"God is not the author of confusion, but of peace" (1 Corinthians 14:33, KJV) I can rest assured that He has it under control.

That probably won't stop me from imagining my life as some epic saga, and it definitely won't eliminate my frustration and distress when things don't go my way. I'm only human after all, a human with the curse of pride and the gift of a vivid imagination. But it will certainly remind me when I need it most that I am but a character, a being formed of ink on paper, not the one holding the pen.

Lesson: The Communication Cycle

I've discovered that communication is not my strongest trait. Shocking, I know, from someone who chatters as much as I do. However, I've learned that there is a significant difference between talking and communicating, between acknowledging a problem and solving it.

All my life I've been the kind of person who avoids conflict.  For some reason, I'm scared to death of making other people angry, upset, or even mildly disappointed. Therefore, if something bothers or upsets me, I tend to just let it slide, tuck it down somewhere in my stomach until it dissipates. Depending on the offense, that might take a couple minutes or a few days. In most relationships, I forget about it and people think I'm agreeable, cheerful, or laid-back. In married life, however, it does anything but help me.

Almost every fight that Derrin and I have had has been caused by this issue. He says or does something minor that upsets me, but I try not to acknowledge it, thinking if I let it roll off then it will be fine. I shoot myself in the foot every time! The hurt builds, fueled by misconstrued remarks and gestures. Four hours later, I'm angry and in tears. He sits there stunned by my meltdown, the poor man thinking he married a crazy nutcase (he did).

Here's the kicker: Derrin is profoundly understanding and sensitive to my feelings. If I tell him something hurt me, he will calmly talk about it, tell me how he actually meant to come across, and apologize. He's not always perceptive enough to pick up that I'm upset if I don't tell him. (Really, who is? Women are infamously cryptic and I am no exception.) Yet I remain so paralyzed by my fear of upsetting him that I take a tiny issue and catapult it to new heights. It's not difficult to predict this happening. Proverbs 26:25-26 says, "Though their speech is charming, do not believe them, for seven abominations fill their hearts. Their malice may be concealed by deception, but their wickedness will be exposed in the assembly."

This is probably one of the most important lessons I have to learn, and as luck would have it, one of the most difficult. Without conflict resolution skills I'm setting myself up to spend the majority of my life in tense, hurtful situations. I have to learn to respect myself and my husband enough to recognize issues before they get out of hand.

Everything For a Reason

Life has a lot to teach us. Different stages in life come with unique challenges which yield individual lessons. Sometimes you learn one lesson after another; other times it seems you've learned all you can (it's usually these times that teach you the most).

My last few months have produced no shortage of lessons to learn. Marriage, moving away from home, starting my career, and learning the never-ending horrors of financial planning (or un-planning) have given me plenty of chances to learn things that can help me for the rest of my life.

However, just because they can help me with the rest of my life does not mean I will remember to use them. Some things we learn, we forget too easily. Then we have to learn the same, often painful lesson over and over again. So this blog is an effort not only to share my new found education in the field of life with someone who might profit from it, but also to try to retain my knowledge for as long as possible. I'm reminded of 1 Corinthians 10:11. Paul has just finished giving an account of the miracles and punishments that the Israelites experienced. He says, "Now these things happened to them as an example, and they were written for our instruction, upon whom the ends of the ages have come." If it was a good idea for Paul and the Corinthians, I think it's a good idea for me!

However, my first lesson is this: When you watch your clock creeping up on 4 a.m., it's about time to close the post, the laptop, and then your eyes. Sunrise is in two and a half hours, people!