personal

Valentine’s Day. Bah Humbug.

so indulgent with my silliness

I don’t hate Valentine’s Day, but I’m pretty lukewarm about it.

I do, however, love love.

I grew up in the pre-PC days before teachers sent home class lists so no one would be excluded in the Valentine’s party and card exchange. I wasn’t the creepy kid with the greasy hair and the wrong kind of shoes, but I wasn’t the pretty little thing with the straight blonde hair and hordes of admirers, either.

I think that’s when I learned to be cynical and sarcastic. Right about the time the creepy kid got hundreds of valentines as a mean and hurtful prank. It was far worse than getting nothing at all.

By the time I was in high school, I was sufficiently annoyed by the whole process to never give it any mind. I usually had a little boyfriend or some poor dear pining after me (and I was surely pining after someone else) that sent a club-sponsored candygram to me in front of God and Country. It was more about being liked than being liked by the right person. How many of us are hurt by this ridiculous pressure today?

The single half-dead rose or cheap little stuffed animal that found its way into my hands, whether or not I liked the boy who mustered up the courage to send it, was a symbol of belonging to a status group I really didn’t want, but was pressured to belong to because the commercials and radio said I should.

Bah.

When Cupid’s aim finally found its true mark, I had already lost interest in Valentine’s Day altogether. Okay – mostly. Who needs a holiday to declare our unending love for one another? We celebrate that on the anniversary of when we actually did declare our love for one another before God and Country (okay, God and family and friends).

Valentine’s Day is barely on my radar these days. I hate to think my husband feels obligated to buy me chocolate (I love it, but don’t need it – and in fact, should stay away from it); send me flowers (I have a lovely garden that he provided); take me to dinner (he’s a fantastic cook); or give me diamonds (I’d rather go away for the weekend with him).

He shows me his love in myriad ways that are more expressive than being suckered into meaningless gifts.

Want to know the nicest thing he ever got me?

A 99-cent shaker of cinnamon and sugar because he noticed I ate cinnamon toast on cold mornings, and I was always making a mess trying to get the sugar/cinnamon ratio right. I know. This man has bought me houses, new cars, dream vacations, and diamonds, and the gift I loved most of all was a little bit of spice.

That’s right. He puts the spice in my life.

(Ha!)

I loved that gift because it came from a place of such sweet and affectionate love that I was absolutely undone in that moment.

He knew what I liked. He noticed what I did. He thought of me while on an errand and spontaneously did something that would bring me joy.

On this February 14th, and each subsequent day, without the bidding of a half-nekkid cherub, he continues to bring me joy.

groundhog day, huh?

I woke up to a number of faux-concerned Tweets about hearing Sonny and Cher’s I Got You, Babe. Thanks, Bill Murray, for this iconic film, but I could really care less about the little rodent…and his Southern counterpart, General Beauregard Lee. I just usually send the weather dog outside in the morning. If she comes back wet, it’s raining. If she won’t go out, it’s cold. I’m good with that.

But I do love the film. It’s funny, in that way that Bill Murray could issue a death sentence and it would sound funny. Maybe it’s the smirk. Delivery is everything in comedy, no?

Naturally there’s more to it than that. Murray’s character is a giant ball of ego. His arrogance is beyond off-putting; it clearly has made him a miserable person, disliked by his colleagues, and cause for his punishment to live groundhog day over and over again.

This punishment is really no punishment at all…it’s an opportunity for him to get the day right. He goes through a transformation, first, in anger and frustration at the crappy lot he has drawn in life, to relive this miserable day in a miserable town, then in an astonishing display of selfish hedonism, followed by a terrible period of despair when he attempts, over and over again, to kill himself.

Somewhere in that process he has an awakening when he glimpses the misery that lies outside of himself. He is moved by a homeless man that dies, in spite of his efforts to save him. It changes him in a profound way and he begins to live his day in the service of others.

I’m sure there are many well-written and thoughtful reviews of this film out there…a few, even, that would touch upon the religious themes inherent in the story. My contribution to the conversation is simple. It’s a story about intimacy. It’s about relationships.

Murray’s character, Phil, has no real interest in intimacy at the beginning, and while there are references to his desire for sexual encounters masking as intimacy, it is beyond that. It’s about making human connections. When the homeless man inspires compassion, we see a shift in the way he treats others, and it impacts the way he sees himself.

That’s one of my personal favorite themes, by the way, this struggle for authenticity and connection with others. I’ve sometimes thought that I live in my own Groundhog Day, entering the classroom day in and day out encountering the same condition, over and over again.

It’s depressing as hell. No wonder Phil takes a bath with a toaster — when conditions don’t change and I find myself doing the same things, saying the same things, getting the same outcomes, it can get me down.

And then there’s the moment of realization — that I am dealing with people. Human beings. It puts a new spin on claims to be pro-life. Easy to say when protecting a tiny, precious baby.  A little harder when facing what I could casually and cruelly call the unloveable in our society, passing through my classroom as a number, a statistic, just a letter in a gradebook. And yet, I’m afforded the opportunity to face them over and over again until I change, like Phil.

 

today is full of the unexpected

I just walked the dog and the night sky blew me away.

What is it about winter, even when it’s mild, that makes the night sky so sharp, so crisp? I could stare at the moon and the stars all night. I guess I’m not the only one…

I often think that the night is more alive and more richly colored than the day.  ~Vincent Van Gogh

There’s something so mysterious in the stars. Transcendent. Eternal.

When I was a kid I wanted to go into space. I’d eat up all the science fiction I could…and dream of galaxies far, far away. Sometimes I still pretend, but mostly, I forget that the stars are there. I get caught up in the business of boring grown-up chores and walking with my head down, careful of where I’m stepping.

I forget to live in the moment, and I don’t even mean to live in the moment in some carpe diem way… just, you know, to be present and look at what I’m looking at and see it.

Instead, I seem to be clenched, trying to move three steps ahead at a time, but getting nowhere.

It’s funny that the things that take my breath away…the amazing miracle of God’s creation, whether it’s in the translucent icy brilliance of a snow flake, or a perfectly formed shell on the beach, or the twinkly sparkle of a star…they catch my breath before I begin to breathe again. They stop me in my tracks, like God Himself puts his hand out and says, look.

Look. And see.

Of course, when I do, I see the order and harmony of His creation, and I can’t help but smile and wonder why I’m in such a hurry. Why I’m looking down instead of up. I breathe deeply and calmly and see that in that moment, however fleeting, I see the mystery that is God, revealed in the twinkling of a star, the flash of a meteor, perhaps in the glow of the moon.

 

what I loved in 2011

abundance * adoration * adventures * afgans * afternoons * ambition * applesauce * artichoke dip * astropops * balloons * bands * bankrolls * baseball caps * basketball * baubles * beaches * blackouts * blogs * blueberries * books * breakfasts on the go * brownies * bubble baths * bubbly * bunnies * cameras * candidness * cartoons * Catan * champions * cheese puffs * chili * chocolate * chocolate covered strawberries * Christy * church choirs * clean floors * clothes out of the dryer * cnmc! * coffee * coke floats * comforters * comfy shoes * cooking * cuban food * daiquiris * dancing * deadlines * deep conversations * dew on the grass * facebook * friends * family * fishing trips * friends * fuzzy socks * games of fetch * giggles * girls night * gizmos * glad tidings * glee clubs * goobers * good books * gummi bears * hand and foot * hand holding * his and hers and ours * hubby * hugs * ice cream * ice pops * icicles * imps * instagrams * ironed linen * John * Jonathan * kids * kisses * laughter * line dances * losing * loud music * manicures * martini lunches * massages * Mexican Train * milkshakes * Momma Mary * moonbeams *moonlight * movie nights * naps * patios * PB & J * sammiches * peaches *  peanuts * penpals * perfect jeans * phone calls *pictures * pie * pilgrimages * pillow talk * pizza * podcasts * poems * quiet dinners * rain * raucous lunches * reading * retreats * risks * road trips * rocket ships * rocks * rosaries * roses * sand * scotch * scripture * sea * seedless watermelons * shells * shenanigans * shit-eating grins * shooting stars * silence * silly trips * skype calls * smiles * snow * snowballs * snuggles *  sodas * soft music * stars * stone mountain daisies * sunbeams * sunrises * sunsets sunshine * tea * tears * tenderness * texts * the Lord * thunderstorms * tides *  toes wiggling in the sand * tom foolery * travel * trees * twitter peeps * umbrellas * understanding * values * veggies * Venus * Vicky * Waffle House * walks on the beach * waves * whispers * wine * winning * words with friends * writing * yellow roses * yes * yo-yo * zabaglione * zanyness * zest * zingers * zombies

ALL the things in 2011

There’s something about the human condition that begs for reflection. Just as we are wired to seek God…to love…to dream, we also ponder things deeply. Blogs will surely be full of these year-in-review posts, some trite, some profoundly and achingly raw, and others funny.

Mine have been all of the above, and to be sure, could easily fit any of those categories again. It’s that human condition thing.

An end of the year examination of conscience sends me running for the confessional, and well it should…but I’m not inclined to expose myself in such a way here. Not because I haven’t already done so in snippets throughout the year, but because I’ve had a fundamental shift in my attitude. As Robert Frost said, that has made all the difference.

It’s been a year like any other year, wrought with loss and filled with blessings. What I never considered was the blessing to be found within the hurt.

I can’t refuse to love for fear of loss. I can’t refuse to try for fear of failure. And I can’t refuse to take the kinds of leaps of faith I’ve taken this year precisely because it cuts me off from God’s plan for me. It took me more than a minute to get that.

To live is to risk. The alternative, as they say, is not terribly appealing at the moment.

To risk opens us to failure and disappointment, but it also opens us to opportunities for growth and beautiful experiences.

I found this illumination in a rather simple little exercise: the #gratefultweet.  I’ve written about it before, here, but in a nutshell, it’s all about predisposing ourselves to see God’s merciful hand in all we do.

In all circumstances give thanks, for this is the will of God for you in Christ Jesus.  ~ 1 Thess: 18

It’s not easy. In fact, it’s pretty hard when we face difficult things such as the death of a loved one or a disappointment so profound it temporarily takes us down.

And yet, those are the moments when we really test our mettle as Christians. Are we going to be children of the light, as that chapter of Thessalonians reminds us, or are we going to let the allure of the darkness hold us in its grasp?

I’ve much to be grateful for this year. Some of it is pretty heavy, and some of it is light and playful, but all of it, all the things for which I am grateful, have brought me closer to God, and that has been worth every tear and every smile.

ah, the day after

I love the day after Christmas. It’s kind of business as usual … and not.

There’s a little bit of cleaning up to do although I have to say that having a low-key Christmas made everything so, well, low-key around here that there’s very little in the actual clean-up department. Of course, four people can really make a mess around here.

Anyway, it’s a day for leftovers, and laundry, and putting away dishes.

It’s a day for hanging out with family with no agenda other than naps and coffee and puttering around.

It’s also a day for chocolate treats.

Merry Christmas!

Today is born our Savior, Christ the Lord

For today in the city of David a savior has been born for you who is Messiah and Lord.  And this will be a sign for you: you will find an infant wrapped in swaddling clothes and lying in a manger.

 

Merry Christmas!

 

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