Do you sense the hope just over the horizon, too, friend?
I held my head in my hands, the non-physical pain consuming me, twisting my body to reflect my inner state. The mother placed the baby in my arms and spoke of WHEN I would take her home and envelop her in our family. This baby was the gift that came no less miraculously than a child that emerges, astonishingly, from one’s own womb.
Even for the most hardened of hearts, a brush with hope in an unopened present makes the soil of our hearts ready for the seed.
And what happens when we open the box and find nothing inside? We turn it over and examine it from another angle. Did we miss something? We take the box apart before finally setting it aside.
Disappointment.
Even for the happiest house with the most joyous children and (reasonably) healthy relationships, the best we can hope for on earth, this unrest arrives.
In the quiet, when the kids have disappeared upstairs to play, when the guests are quietly conversing, the emptiness arrives.
It appears as an ache, a heaviness that weighs us down a little. We mindlessly pick up the wrapping papers strewn around the room, our thoughts following us.
And then after we’ve had our fill of chocolate, and coffee, and cinnamon buns, and laughter, the sadness reawakens, the one that was slumbering within.
And so we pick up our sadness, gently. We scoop it up with our hands and lift our hands to God.
And this is our present, cherished as a pile of diamonds, that we offer our Father.
Come, come, child. Come away with me, He beckons our heart.
We follow Him, the tears not yet erupted from the geyser within as we smile at the others and follow Him to a lonely place.
And in that place, perhaps the quiet of a room downstairs, by ourselves, He holds us as we cry. He dances with us as we celebrate. He comforts us as we plead with Him for His kingdom to come over some area of brokenness in our lives or our loved one’s lives.
And when the tears have been shed, and the comfort received, we return to them, to the family and friends.
And our gift has been opened, the one we were waiting for, the one that fills our hearts.
The gift of Him.
Merry Christmas, He says to you.
Did you open your gift this Christmas?
Jesus, teach us to pour out our heart as a gift to You.
As you listen to this song, consider talking to Holy Spirit, like talking to a friend over coffee. What do you most long to ask Jesus?
Ask Him.
And wait in the quiet stillness for a bit.
And may Your life be touched by a glimmer of the divine, which is a gift that when opened, contains everything you’ve been longing for.
BEFORE YOU SLAM THIS POST CLOSED IN DISGUST… remember that I promised this post was based on peer-reviewed philosophy, which will be clarified in a moment.
These are my examples (admittedly not perfect) of four principles to becoming happy that have been recognized by philosophy!
The 4 Levels of Happiness, undiluted by my own examples and as proposed by Aristotle and later by modern philosophers, are the following:
Happiness Level 1- Happiness found in simple material pleasures. For example, eating a crisp apple while standing right next to the tree we picked it from.
Happiness Level 2 – Happiness found in delayed satisfaction. For example, setting aside other priorities to do the work of training for a race, and the happiness found in completing or wining the race.
Happiness Level 3 – Happiness found in serving others. For example the unexpected joy we feel when we help those less fortunate than us.
(Now, we better not talk about Happiness Level 4 because in order to be sophisticated moderns, we should never talk about spiritual needs. Here goes anyway.) Happiness Level 4 – Happiness found in the pursuit of, or an experience of God. Don’t shoot me! I’m just a messenger!
So now, if we compare my examples to the unfiltered levels of happiness proposed by real philosophers, you can see where I’m coming from.
Happiness Level 1 – Eating chocolate is obviously the ultimate fulfillment of material pleasures. (I’m sure you can think of others).
Happiness Level 2 – Now that I review the Levels of Happiness more thoroughly, I can see that the object of Happiness Level 2 is not entirely ego domination. But I was on the right track in the sense of receiving happiness from completing a race or something. Close enough.
Happiness Level 3 – To expound on my example of Happiness Level 3, put food in the food hamper VERY slowly so people notice. In my case, I tend to do it quickly and run away because I am putting in items that have almost expired. But in your case, if the food hasn’t expired, relish in the fact that you’re helping someone else! Let them exalt you! Wait -As I’m refreshing myself on the general principle of Happiness Level 3, I can see now that the point is actually serving people not having others SEE you serve people. Whatever. I guess we learn new things all the time, even as we’re writing blog posts!
Happiness Level 4 – The last level of happiness, of course, is found in hanging out with losers. I was right about that one. As mentioned here, people who call themselves Christians are losers! (People who don’t call themselves Christians are also losers, but they are too spiritually blind to see that at the moment.)
And of course, by seeking God I’m not talking about swallowing everything thrown at you at church hook, line, and sinker. (Yes, I realize these are mixed metaphors, but who has time to edit their writing these days?)
Ahem . . .
So don’t leave your brain at the door when you walk into a church. Rebuke them sometimes. That’s what you’re there for.
But we also pray that the scales will fall off your eyes and ears so that you can see and hear the real God who is speaking even though he is surrounded by so many weird-os that sometimes it’s hard to get in close enough to get his autograph or to touch the hem of his cloak, or whatever you’re hoping will fill your bucket of need as you draw closer to God.
He will turn everything in your life upside down if you get close enough to touch him. That is his way.
For example, God even talks about happiness coming from suffering.
We can rejoice, too, when we run into problems and trials, for we know that they help us develop endurance. And endurance develops strength of character, and character strengthens our confident hope of salvation.
Joy from problems seems a little crazy if you think about it.
Don’t think about it too much.
Just hold His hand and the hands of the other losers who love being near Him, and may you rise a little higher up the Levels of Happiness (maybe even to a Level 3 or Level 4?) this season.
I held my head in my hands, the non-physical pain consuming me, twisting my body to reflect my inner state.
The mother placed the baby in my arms and spoke of WHEN I took her home, enveloped her in our family. This baby was the gift that came no less miraculously than a child that emerges, astonishingly from one’s own womb. Except she traversed from God, through another’s womb, through the arms of another mother, into my arms.
And like a child ripped from her mother’s arms, she was taken from my arms and placed in another home.
We were pleased that the child would be taken care of, her needs met, thrive in a loving home.
And yet the pain in our hearts was only partially placated.
Every human soul carries its own pain within.
A loved one passes, an illness, a broken relationship, broken dreams, general ennui, desperation, hopelessness, despair. . . The waves of trouble that break over the human soul break us too, as our souls hit the rocks, making us bleed from the trials that have arrived on our doorstep, unbidden.
We open the door to today and the tidal wave of disappointment has arrived. We are left sitting on the floor alone in our world, unable to stand.
As we look around for a hand to help us up, something to hold onto, it seems hope is a long way away sometimes.
Can you see it?
I couldn’t either.
And then Christmas knocks on our door with the request to give to the needy, to distract ourselves with shallow merrymaking, to make ourselves sick with food that is sweet in the mouth and cancerous to the bones.
“Is this all there is?” we ask, our Santa hats adorning our heads in an effort to embrace the spirit of the season, our TV remote flipping from channel to channel, waxed chocolate at the fingertips.
Numb, again.
Another Christmas season has arrived, and we are numb.
That Christmas, the one when I could hardly breathe, I took off the old.
I crossed off the list of people that we were “supposed” to buy presents for. No more presents for friends, friend’s kids, extended family, parents, grandparents, my spouse. “And no presents for me,” I announced. We bought a few small gifts for a few children. And joy returned.
I crossed off the list the duty to make the Christmas treats I made every year, unthinkingly. I tried a few simple treats with a healthier spin. And joy returned.
I left the box of Christmas decorations in the basement unopened. When I finally gazed inside, I pulled out a few items that were handmade by friends or had sparked a particular delight, or a cherished memory. And joy returned.
I said no to every party, to the ones we were expected to attend that were too loud, had too much drinking, and too much shallow joy. We had a couple of quiet celebrations with a handful of friends or family, and good food. And joy returned.
No more expectations. The old has gone.
And the new life emerging?
And like the caterpillar that makes time for the quiet of the chrysalis, we too made time for the quiet.
– Time for Christmas church services, as we sought to awaken our senses to the awe of the season through the life of the babe in a manger
– Time for a hug or a smile or an understanding look, more, more often from those around me
I spent time every evening that season with our little toddler at the outdoor skating rink. The one that is free.
When we fell, we would laugh and then sit quietly together for a moment noticing how the lights rimmed the rink, peering through the darkness. I could almost discern the light of the season through those lights.
And like the lights shining in the darkness, at the skating rink that is free, His free gift of love burst through my heart a little more often in the quiet mornings, in the moments of quiet at the worship services, in the quiet smiles of those whose lives I stumbled across.
And each smile was like gazing into another’s soul because I took the extra moment to see them, to know that they too, being human, have heart wounds. Can my smile, my love, be a drop of healing ointment to them, as theirs is to me?
And it was the best Christmas of my life.
As the song plays, consider asking God: How can any anticipated pain of this Christmas season be transformed into joy?
I was looking around for something. It was dark. I grasped the floor trying to find some unseen object. I couldn’t remember what I was looking for, but I knew it was on the floor, not far away. If I could only pick it up! I was crying. “Where are you?” I wondered.
Then I brushed up against something, the finger of God. I tried to grasp it but went in the wrong direction by mistake and lost my sense of where it was again. But now my heart was beating with hope. The tears stopped flowing, just a riverbed of dry tears streaming down my face, now.
“Where are you, God?” I called out. Hope filled my heart. He was just here. I spent the rest of the morning on my hands and knees, groping at the floor, seeking the hand of Jesus. I know He’s close!
It is God’s privilege to conceal things and the king’s privilege to discover them.
Sunrise came and I hadn’t touched the hand of God again, yet hope buoyed my heart.
I had enough strength for the day, enough love to pour out on my children, enough forgiveness for the ones whose lives bumped against mine, their prickles and mine poking each other. Joy, tantalizingly close, but not grasped and put into my heart, lifted my spirits.
The hints of the divine are left for us, like the odd jewel on a stone path, covered in dust and scratched up, half hiding in the path, from the boots of so many who have trampled it. Will we notice it, wonder at the gleam of . . . is that a tinge of purple? Will we pick it up, polish it off, put it in our pocket to wonder at later?
If we do, the weight and purity of this jewel will begin to eat away at our pockets, at every impure thing it touches. It demands to be held up and admired. If we fail to do this, it burns away at the fabric of our pockets and drops back to the ground, awaiting the next traveller.
Do we give the divine the attention and the focus it demands? Or have we lost yet another opportunity, the hint of holiness falling back to earth – gone from our hearts?
“I think I found a jewel once,” we tell each other, but that seems so long ago, another lifetime ago. We inspect our pockets and they are singed where the jewel was, where we think we put it. Could it be?
“No. It must be a coincidence,” we think.
We will wait for another clue.
So we travel the dusty path of life, stepping on jewel after dusty jewel. Our hearts have grown harder and so our eyes have lost the spark of wonder that makes them truly able to see that which is not there, yet. The potential of a hidden jewel, on the ground, trampled, is not what we are looking for anymore. We have become blind.
And it is Christmas that awakens our hearts a little if we let it.
Christmas is the alarm clock in our hearts that rings and . . . will we answer the call, or press snooze, again?
Will we get out of bed, warm feet on cold floor, groggily seeking a coffee, and God?
Will we hope once more, that in the dark, early mornings of this advent season, as we cry out to God, the one we have forgotten, tears streaming our faces, we can find a glimmer of hope that we WILL see the shadow across His face, the brush of His finger, emanating so much love from His pinky finger that our entire hearts are strengthened for a week?
Will we find a glimmer of light, like a light switched on and then off again so that we wonder if there was even a light? Will this light give an unction to our souls to seek again, to get up early again, to look closely at the jewels in life that we almost trampled again?
Will we find the path that leads us to the heart of God, this season?
May your heart be soft friend, so that the seed of God will find a healthy place to grow. And may the tree that grows from within your heart produce fruit that nourishes your deepest longings, the ones you forgot you even had, so often had you pushed them back down to the depths of the soul, under distraction.
One of these days I’m going to write a book about how to have copious financial resources. The key premise:
To accumulate more money, simply buy less stuff!
Lori Lawe, TM*
I’m writing this blog post series about healthy weight, however, but a similar key premise applies:
If we want to stop carrying around all that extra jiggly stuff in the middle, at some point, we may have to talk about eating a bit less food.
Lori Lawe, TM*
Today’s blog post is about ENJOYING eating less.
I’m the kind of person that likes to have fun. So if we have to do something that’s not fun, let’s trick ourselves into thinking that we are having fun! So, as you are learning these helpful tips and habits, try to keep in the back of your mind the key lesson which is: Eating air is way more fun than eating tempting and delicious food!
Today we will learn to trick ourselves that we:
1. Are eating dessert when we are not, 2. Love God more than we love padding our belly fat, and 3. Are stuffing ourselves when we’re not eating anything at all.
No dessert anyone? Back when I remembered I was writing a series of posts about healthy habits, I wrote that one of the habits was to have camomile tea just before bed. This is a great tip I picked up on the internet that actually helped me! I guess there IS useful information out there somewhere! You put quite a bit of extra honey in your camomile tea after supper. Then you tell yourself “This is dessert!” You’re having extra honey so it is a bit of a treat. Then you drink your tea with the relish of eating an entire cheesecake, and wait until Sunday for real dessert. You can do it!
God or more belly fat? The next habit is kind of cool and it’s a way to develop the habit of fasting and seeking God, without having to do any work (Oh wait, did I say that out loud?) As you know, and I’ve discussed here, I found fasting for spiritual purposes, for even more than – oh – 10 minutes, to be a little challenging. So this is a compromise. I just try to delay my breakfast. We all have to start somewhere! Use that time of being a bit hungry to push yourself into God, to ask Him why you’re such a spaz most of the time, to pour out your heart, and you’ll realize that breakfast kind of loses its allure. Your deeper needs are emerging. And so, this habit has become one of my favorite habits, if I’m honest. Plus your body thanks you. There’s a lot of good research about intermittent fasting. And the way I’ve structured these habits, where you kind of trick yourself into thinking you’re eating dessert when you’re not after supper (so you’re not eating), and you just delay your breakfast for a bit turns into a temporary fast. But don’t tell your body that because your mind might not like it, and it’s all about keeping your mind happy, right? Even if you are deceiving your mind a bit. Who’s counting?
Top secret tip for tricking yourself into thinking you are eating copious amounts of food when you’re not eating anything at all. Don’t tell anyone I said this, or at least don’t link back to this site if you do. (I won’t admit I ever said this), but here’s an AMAZING tip. Shh…. Top secret. . . Lean your head over the food dish of choice, when no one is looking, of course. Close your eyes, inhale, enjoy the smells, and pretend you’re chewing. Say, “Yum!” A second plate without any calories, anyone? (Was anyone looking when I said that? Whew! No one heard!) Remember you didn’t hear it from me! Enjoy!
Whoever can figure out how to market the promise: How to enjoy whatever foods you want, whenever you want them, and not gain any weight, and then link to Point 3 above will be a millionaire! Cut me 10% of your profits, please! (I still won’t admit I had anything to do with you, however.)
Hey maybe you want to ghostwrite my financial book discussed in the first paragraph, come to think of it!
We could call it, “How to ENJOY Getting Rich And Thin!”
I was sipping a summer drink, my shoulders draped with a blanket. I can’t QUITE bring myself to wear a sweater yet, but the leaves of fall are dropping, reminding me with the cool breeze that the days of summer are ending.
I found myself pondering the successes and challenges of the past homeschooling year, hoping that the total number of wins outscored the total number of defeats.
Then I took a fresh page, another sip of my iced drink, and pondered the coming year.
There is a certain RHYTHM to homeschooling, as there is a RHYTHM to the best things of life: summer-fall-winter-spring, or sunrise-daytime-sunset.
What is the ULTIMATE homeschool rhythm?
After much strategic thinking, erasing, and pulling from my wisdom of X years (I will NEVER admit I homeschooled THAT LONG!) of homeschooling, I think the ultimate rhythm goes something like this:
1) Read good books aloud to our children.
2) Focus on the relationship with each child. Talk to and listen to them.
3) Spend a 1/2 hour yelling at them and watching them cry during “math”.
And that’s it!
The ULTIMATE life of a homeschooler!
Repeat tomorrow!
By the way, both of my kids made it to high school math (pat on the back for me please). I’m thinking there are a LOT of martinis I’ve earned and saved for getting them that far.
Well done, mom, dad! You made it through math today! (Don’t have a martini yet – I was just joking).
Or maybe it’s not math but insert-monster-of-choice-here: toilet training, setting limits on technology, grammar, drawing lessons. (True story. One of my friend’s kids cried every time the art supplies emerged).
We all have our own battles but you get it.
On reflecting a bit more after writing this out (I process my thoughts via writing – thank you for reading and therefore helping me to think more clearly) I think the conclusive ALL ENCOMPASSING homeschool rhythm is the following:
1. Kids are trying to drive us crazy, to lose our sanity. This is called “sanctification” to us. It’s good for you (albeit eventually).
2. Don’t let them.
3. Bake cookies with them, or declare Pajama Day and watch a movie and eat popcorn with them.
4. Repeat.
(5. My editor keeps trying to delete this next one – I don’t know why!) When your kids are about to leave home, drink all the martinis you didn’t have on every bad homeschooling day. (And let’s admit it, there were a lot of bad days).
OK! OK! I won’t include that one!
My editor reminds me that I am in a sort of grieving process as my oldest child is getting ready to leave the nest and fly off to University.
Whole can of crazy is down there in my heart, waiting to get stirred up.
Restoring Life 