In Hopeful Anticipation

I love Advent season and the celebration of the Christ Child.  Advent means “arrival,” and there is so much joy in arrivals.  My father was a pilot in the military.  He would be away for long periods of time when I was a little girl.  In the Christmas of 1993, he was in Bosnia during the war.  As a child I had no idea the dangers he might be in.  All I could think about was when he would come home.  And I’ll never forget that January we all crowded into the living room to welcome him home and celebrate Christmas a month late.  I even re-wrote the words to the “Battle Hymn of the Republic” as I waited for him to walk in the door.  It started out “Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of my Dad…” (Go ahead, sing it).  As a grown woman I can look back and remember how painful it was for everyone to wait for his arrival – the unknowns of his safety and the actual day he would come home.  But we waited and hoped with anticipation.  And today I experience this again as a mother – waiting in hopeful anticipation for my three children to arrive from Haiti.  It is painful with so many unknowns, yet I find comfort when I think about that day they will walk in our door. 

Advent ceremonies involve lighting candles.  I love the symbolism of lighting a candle. It has always been significant to me, but I had not always thought about how it honors an arrival.  I light candles when guests are coming over. I light a candle in my office for my clients.  I light a candle to be reminded I am never alone.  In each of these times, there is an arrival to be honored.  It’s as if the flame holds the space with hope as we wait with anticipation for the arrival of whatever or whoever is to come. 

So I lit my candle this morning as I write.  It has 3 wicks – one for each of my sons: Wilnes, Woody, and Wendy. I pray for their little hearts, and I cry with hopeful anticipation. 

If you choose to light a candle today or in the coming days of Advent season, I offer some questions for you to ponder on your own journey:

~Who or what are you waiting for?

~How do you spend your time “waiting?”

~Who or what comforts you in your wait?

~What do you need as you wait?

~Imagine the arrival of who/what you are waiting for.  Lean into this hope.

May Peace be with you this season.  

Thankful

Don’t you love watching award shows – when you wait with anticipation to see who wins and then you hear their victory speech and the gratitude they bestow on all those who supported them along the way?  This was especially fun for me last week watching the Country Music Association (CMA) awards.   I was so proud to hear my husband’s name mentioned in two of those victory speeches, because I know the hard work he has given this year.  Then I had texts and facebook messages coming in like crazy saying, “was that Todd’s name I just heard on the CMA’s?  How cool!”  Everyone wants to be appreciated. Everyone wants to be thanked.  Everyone wants their work acknowledged.  And even though we don’t all get to hear it on live television, it feels good no matter how we hear it.

In this season of Thanksgiving, I invite you to have your own “award show” of sorts.

First…

What have you accomplished this year? 

What are you proud of yourself for?   

Have you worked very hard for something specific this year?

Have you overcome a major hurdle or struggle?

Second…

Whatever your answer to the questions above, spend some time rewarding yourself for what you’ve accomplished.  Show YOURSELF gratitude for how hard you’ve worked and/or what you have overcome.  Maybe this means something simple like starting a gratitude journal.  Or maybe something bigger like finally taking that vacation you have needed.  Or maybe you treat yourself to a massage or a hike with a friend. What is your award ceremony? 

Third…

Thank those who have been with you on this journey.  You may not get to go on live television to do this, but I promise a phone call, email, or card still goes a long way when you are letting someone know how much you appreciate them.  There is such a gift for both the giver and receiver when we reach out in gratitude.  It is incredibly therapeutic to hear and say a simple, “thank you.” 

 

Grief

Five years ago on this day I gathered with friends and family to celebrate the life of my dear friend Emmie.  She went to Heaven just days before on Oct 21, 2008.  I remember that day so clearly – getting the call, rushing to the ER, hearing the news literally as I walked in the door, and then holding her still warm hand and feeling peace because I knew she was with Jesus. 

Five years later after saying goodbye to my friend, I had to say goodbye to my children for what felt like the millionth time – another trip of sweet hugs and laughs but without the joy of them accompanying us home. With every trip, my heart gets fuller yet more broken.  Goodbyes are just hard.  And although I said goodbye to them differently than I said goodbye to Emmie, I know the same Jesus holds them all while I can’t be with them.

Grief has a way of sometimes staying locked up in the body.  Every year on Oct 21, I feel the heaviness.  My sons will tell you they feel sick and tired on Jan 12 - the anniversary of the Haiti earthquake.  It’s amazing what our bodies go through and how they hold the burden of what they have suffered.  I have been fighting health problems for several months now.  I can hardly catch my breath sometimes when I walk up my stairs at home.   This baffles me, because I’ve always been so healthy and in shape.   I realized this week after saying goodbye to my boys and seeing them off to school, I had to climb the same flight of stairs from their orphanage back up to the car to go to the airport - the same routine with every goodbye.  And every time I climb those stairs I am bawling my eyes out and can hardly take the next step.  It was important for me to make this connection.  Stairs now remind my body of this long journey and the heaviness of goodbye. My body is tired – of goodbyes, of climbing those same stairs over and over, of keeping my head held high with hope.  And knowing this piece helps me honor my body and show it compassion.  For it has not failed me.  It is just loaded with sorrow.  And as I honor my grief, I also invite hope.  I hope for strength for the next step.  There will always be another “hello.” One day I’ll see Emmie again in Heaven.  One day I’ll bring my sons home.  One sweet day.  So I climb another step and grow stronger.  I take a deep breath and remind myself that sorrow does not last forever.  

Decisions

A common theme with my clients is the struggle to make decisions. I find myself in this conundrum lately as well.  Whether it’s related to relationships, jobs, health, where to go to church, or just what to eat for dinner, decisions can feel debilitating when there seems no clear direction.  For me I wonder, “what if it’s the wrong decision?”  So, what if it is? If it’s wrong, I can do or try something different.  But then the doing and trying something different can become exhausting and debilitating as well.  At least that’s been my experience in my most recent battle of making decisions.

On a day when I was just tired of trying to “figure it out,” I braided my hair, threw on my Willie Nelson t-shirt, turned on Avett Brothers tunes, and got out a canvas and paints.  I have never pained before – except in one of those paint along classes where you bring your friends and some wine and laugh at yourself trying to follow the teacher.  But I had no teacher, no wine, no friend there with me – just me.  I wanted to abandon decision-making and just be present with myself with no expectation of doing this "correctly."  So I started painting arrows in every direction – up, down, right, left – each a different shade of this fun metallic paint I had picked out.   They represent the choices by which I currently feel perplexed.  I did not like these arrows just hanging out there, because that’s how I feel right now – so many possible directions with no clear path to take.  So I painted Light in the center and all around them – to remind me that there will be Light at the source and around all these paths.  I do not have to be alone in my confusion – whatever is chosen I have Help along my journey.  I have a Guide so much bigger than me.  It is hard for me to choose a direction, because in my human nature I want to know it will be the “right” way.   But what I’m learning is that answers come when I try and experience different options and allow guidance from the Light of the Holy Spirit.  It is with me in every choice and will never leave me alone.  As I make decisions, it gives me a nudge of “yes, I have peace about that,” or the opposite, “something doesn’t seem right about this.”  And I take a deep breath and realize I am not failing if I have to turn around and try a new path – just learning something new.  Maybe decisions aren’t always about being right, but instead invite us to live more fully in curiosity and soak in the Light around us for help.  

Asking and Receiving

“Here are the two best prayers I know: 'Help me, help me, help me' and 'Thank you, thank you, thank you.’” (Anne Lamott, Traveling Mercies).

I recently bought myself a bouquet of red gerbera daisies.  They are my favorite!  They are usually packaged with a green tube around their stems that helps support their large beautiful buds.   I took the tubes off, cut the stems, and arranged them nicely in the vase.  Within hours, the heads were drooping – how I feel when my head feels so big and full of thoughts and worry that the rest of me just can’t hold it up anymore.  Instead of putting the tubes back on I decided to pull them all together with a rubber band toward the top of their stems so they could “lean” on each other and have the support of the band to keep their heads up.  I smiled and realized these flowers were not only an important gift to myself that day but a valuable message…

Earlier in the week I told myself I wanted to practice receiving help – to let others be present in my “mess.”  So I swallowed hard and reached out to others.  Throughout the week, one by one, the most beautiful women came into my home or entered my life in some way and offered a hug, an ear to listen, a shoulder to cry on, a compassionate heart, an encouraging word.  I realized my bouquet had exactly the number of flowers to represent me and each woman from whom I received support that week.  And along with their compassionate hearts, I also found within me the ability to give myself nurture and support - an equally important lesson in my journey - that we all have within ourselves the ability to be gentle, kind, and compassionate to our own weary hearts.   When we ask and receive, we can stand just a little taller again.

Tell the Story

As a little girl I remember singing the hymn in church, “I Love To Tell the Story.”  Stories are powerful.  There is much to gain in both the telling and hearing.  In the hymn it’s the story of Jesus and His love.  But other stories aren’t so joyful, are they?  When we hurt or grieve, others may get tired of hearing our “same old story,” and likewise we may get tired of telling it.  So why do we continue to tell it?  Recently I was telling my husband about a hurtful situation from my past, and he said to me, “I’ve heard you talk about this before.  Why do you continue to allow them to let you down?”  Valid question.  I’ve thought about that a lot.  Why do I keep telling the same story and feeling let down every time when the outcome never changes? 

From today’s reading of The Book of Awakening (Mark Nepo) it says, “Often we repeat stories, not because we are forgetful or indulgent, but because there is too much meaning to digest in one expression.  So we keep sharing the story that presses on our heart until we understand it all.”  (page 481).

This thought brought me so much comfort.  I’m not necessarily stuck in this past story – I’m just still making sense of it as it pertains to me today.  There is much still to learn in my story – in all our stories – and it is not always full of pain.  As our stories are honored there is much truth, clarity, and strength to be gained.  

What story replays in your mind or slips off your tongue frequently? What would it be like to just notice that story and not judge yourself for still telling it?  What new meaning lies in the story today?  Just as the old hymn proclaims the joy of knowing Jesus’ story and love each new day, what does this new day have to tell you about your own story? 

Lean Into It

There is a song by Little Big Town that has always meant so much to me – but never as much as it does now in this season of my life.  A few weekends ago my husband and I took a much needed trip to the beach.  After several weeks of health problems and 3.5 years of wondering when my boys will come home to us from Haiti, I’m exhausted.  I’m weak.  I’m frustrated.  I’m sad.  I’m powerless.

I walked out into the ocean.   Todd played around in it, just letting the waves hit him and roll over like they were high-fiving him.  He shouted, “Isn’t this great? I just want to give this whole ocean a hug!”  I laughed.  And then I just got angry.  How can he be so happy getting knocked over?  I can hardly stand here and not get bulldozed by these huge waves rolling in. I can’t get my footing – can’t get grounded.  And I certainly don’t want to wade any further out.  Why can’t I be more like him?
 
Then I decided I’m not supposed to be more like him.  He’s not supposed to be more like me.  We have our own experiences.  I just needed to stand there and look out over that big ocean and let my tears feel free to fall.  I needed to keep digging my heels into the sand and lean into those waves and feel their beautiful force and to feel the beautiful force within me pushing back.  It wasn’t my playground like it was for Todd, but it was my sanctuary.  It was my place to let every emotion just roll back out with the tide.  It was my place to be reminded I just gotta lean into it.
 
check out the song by clicking here

Chorus:
There’s a strong wind blowing
I push on
It pushes back

It’s a hard time
But I know I’ll get through it
Just gotta lean into it

from the album The Reason Why
Written by Kimberly Schlapman, Phillip Sweet, Karen Fairchild, Jimi Westbrook