One of my biggest problems is that I tend to think too much. I think too much about what other's feel, think, expect, want, need, etc. I guess in many ways, I try to take up the slack just in case God is too busy answering important prayers. Kinda funny in a way, but that's just how I'm wired. I have spent most of my life trying to create picture perfect memories for others - during the Christmas season especially. Egg nog, check (even though I cringe at the thought of it), pumpkin pie (usually although I will admit to the occasional forgetting on purpose), check, Christmas cards meticulously signed with a personal note to each along with the Christmas newsletter, check, shopping done and presents wrapped for everybody and their brother that may have crossed my mind at some point during the year, check, the tree trimmed and re-trimmed until it's picture-perfect, check, all the items needed for the Christmas feast bought and ready to go, check. You name it, I made sure it was done. Martha Stewart - but with not nearly the same budget.
It was nine days before Christmas last year when I found myself being wheeled into surgery for an open lung biopsy. It had been a hard year for us. In April, Oliver had lost his job with the company he had been with for almost 20 years. They announced that he had taken and "early retirement" when the truth was, they were cleaning house. We reeled. Fortunately Oliver got a job fairly quickly with a competitor and that's how we ended up in Tennessee. He came down right away in July and I was left behind with our dog, Igloo, to sell the townhouse in a spiraling market. Not ideal circumstances, but we felt hopeful that we were on an upward trend. We love TN and it was getting us that much closer to our family in the panhandle of Florida.
It wasn't easy. For months I made sure the house was staged and looked like a page out of Better Homes and Gardens. Every time we got a call that someone was to look at it, my Martha Stewart genes kicked in and I had the music playing ever so softly, the throws folded just right to look like they had been tossed there haphazardly, the soft smell of whatever candle flavor I felt moved to light, the whole nine yards. Nothing. We had a few people through and the feedback was always that we were one of two they were considering and each time they went wtih the other one. It was discouraging but still we kept on. We had become wise in past years about staying connected by cell phone and not landlines. We'd laugh, we'd cry, we'd believe for a brighter future despite concerns about my health and the myriad of testing that I went through from Sept. through Dec.
Then came Christmas. Wtih every bit of strength that I had, I dragged the Christmas decorations out and had the house looking spectacular for the season. I knew I was going to be in the hospital for up to a week so I had to make sure everything was done. I didn't even have the extra strength to go Christmas shopping, which that in and of itself was hard on my psyche. So it was gift cards for the kids and homemade goodies for when Oliver came home - mostly because we weren't sure if and when he'd be able to come home for us to celebrate Christmas. Igloo got to spend the week I was in the hospital at Aunt Janie's and he was spoiled rotten and got to play with two other dogs. It was great for him.
It was while in ICU, alone, frightened, cold and at my wits end that I thought I had reached my lowest point. I remember crying out to God in the midst of all my pain - emotionally, physically and spiritually - wondering just what, exactly, had I done wrong? Why? It was in that low place that He met me and gave me a picture in my head of one of the men here at FatihPointe that I had met when I came for a visit in October. John is wheelchair bound and his testimony and attitude are something that will be the subject of a whole other blog. It was a turning point for me because He showed me that John was praying for me... a person I only met once, but he set all the cares that he had of his own aside to pray for me. Somehow in that moment I just knew that things would be alright and that by the next Christmas, things would be better. Within 24 hours, while still in ICU, someone came and looked at the townhouse and bought it. I got out of the hospital with the agenda of having to get ready to move within a couple of weeks. I was hurting but I was ecstatic. Brighter days were coming.
We settled in quickly and efficiently into our new home here in TN. We loved the house so much and Igloo adapted as well to the country life as we did. We were blissfully unaware of changes to come. We lived, we loved and we laughed. Then in an instant, Igloo was killed along with our neighbors' dog, Sadie. We were devastated. Somehow the same routes that had brought us such peace before now became overshadowed by tears of "what might have been." Still we plugged on. Just as we were beginning to get life back into our souls, Oliver lost his job - with no explanation. Again our lives were thrown into the realm of uncertainty. Oh Lord, what will we do?
Savings exhausted by having to pay extra for moving on a short schedule and having to hire packers, a $17K loss on the old house and having to get things like appliances and curtains for the new, we were ill-equipped to meet this latest storm head-on. And then came Thanksgiving and no prospects on the horizon for a new job. Even unemployment wasn't kicking in yet and in TN, that isn't much to begin with but when you're desperate, any amount helps. No "extras" for us. We're scrimping by for the necessities but somehow we're still managing to stay afloat with the storms raging all around us.
For the first time in our lives, neither one of us had packages under the tree. No buying for everybody and their brother either. That doesn't mean our Christmas has been awful, just different. We invited some friends over for a little get together to try and spark some Christmas cheer and that worked for a day or two. We had a lovely time and we truly are grateful for the friendships we have made this past year. I have to admit that on more than one occasion I had to wonder if we would have been better off if the house up in Chicagoland had never sold, but then I see that many of our friends who have had to move still have their houses up for sale or have rented them out. I think of the people we have gotten to know here and the close bonds we have forged with them and think, no, I wouldn't trade all of them for anything.
We've had our ups and downs, our tears and smiles, our high points and low, and still we're here. We don't know what tomorrow will bring or where we'll be. We wafflle between fear and knowing that things will be alright. In the end we really do believe that all will be just fine - someday. We just kinda wish someday would get here.
So it was on Christmas Eve that I checked the weather reports one last time before heading off to bed. The wind was blowing and it was pouring out. It was 1 am and the temperature was in the upper 40's. No chance for a white Christmas this year. Oh well, nothing else about Christmas seemed "normal" anyway so why should that be different? But still I had that hope that I have always had before going to bed on Christmas eve for as long as I can remember. As I laid down in bed, I said prayers for those who I know are in much more dire predicaments than we are. There are many families apart this year and many that have had unbelievable tragedies befall them recently. My heart ached for them and I prayed for God's peace to fall upon each of them. And then at the end of the prayer I added something that I have done every Christmas eve for all of my life. "and Lord, if it is Your will, can we please have a white Christmas?"
I admit that I argued with myself in my head. I had checked the weather reports, no chance. I reminded myself that weathermen had been wrong before, on many occasions. But it was with childlike belief that I smiled and drifted off into the most restful, peaceful sleep that I have had in a long time. No tossing, no turning, no waking up several times during the night, just sweet sleep. I was surprised to see the bedroom flooded with daylight when I woke up. I couldn't believe that I had slept all night. I got up and stretched and did what I do every morning - looked out the bedroom window. I honestly couldn't believe what I saw. At first I thought that maybe it was just a heavy case of frost, but as my eyes focused I saw the most beautiful sight - a soft, gentle blanket of white. I yelled "it snowed" and Oliver came in laughing and said that he and the dogs had already been out playing in it. I smiled brighter than I had in months.
Even in the absence of all the trimmings of the season, we managed to have a wonderful Christmas. We were invited to have Christmas dinner at the home of some friends with their family and had a wonderful meal. I got to see an emu for the first time in my life. We came home to entertain our houseguests (our pastor's dogs - Toby and Buckeye) who have been wonderful in helping us get over the loss of Igloo. And we were given the glimmer of hope in the soft blanket of snow. If God was not too busy to hear the prayer of my little ol' heart asking for a white Christmas and delivering it right on time, then surely He hears our prayers for all the rest of our needs. It may not have been a perfect Christmas in the eyes of most, but for us, we learned lessons that have changed our hearts forever. It is with childlike hearts that we believe and it's with Godlike answers that He delivers. Christmas doesn't get any better than that.
Saturday, December 26, 2009
Thursday, December 24, 2009
She still believes....
A single tear streams down her cheeks from the corner of her eye. A tear of sadness or a tear of happiness? Hard to tell, but a tear none-the-less. She stares into the fire raging in the fireplace and just takes in the crackling sounds and the snapping of the flames. As she looks around the room, she sees the tree brightly decorated with beautiful packaging underneath. She even knows that there is a special one or two there for her. Her children are fighting back the closing of their eyes and she knows it won't be long before sleep will overtake their excitement and they'll be carried off to bed. She looks over at ther husband who is fighting to keep his eyes awake as well and she imagines the boy he once was.
As she waits for slumber to finally come for the family she knows she will be up for a while yet. There is still work to be done and a past to reconcile in her mind. It's going to be a long night but one that she must face alone. She thinks back to the days when her biggest concern on Christmas Eve was trying to stay awake long enough to hear the gentle rap of reindeer hooves on the roof and the familiar Ho Ho Ho coming from downstairs. Sleep always won, and mercifully so.
She didn't grow up in the picture perfect settings that were portrayed on the cards of friends who sent their well wishes for the season. No, Christmas brought out an ugly side of the adults in her life. Egg nog with brandy, scotch on the rocks, hi balls, seven and sevens, champagne, Isabel rose wine, martini straight up with a lime twist - stirred, not shaken, Heineken beer... she could name all their drinks. What she couldn't know was what monster would emerge once the libations were consumed and what she would face for the next few days. Laying in her bed and hearing the fighting downstairs would reach something deep inside of her and rock her to her core. "Please Santa, remember that I am not my parents", she'd sigh into her pillow between the sobs she tried to stifle there. Many nights she lay there in fear, wondering if someone was going to come in and use her as a punching bag or worse.
Christmas Eve was always special though. That night she could have hope that Santa would come and certainly rescue her from the pit that she was caught in. She laid there and vowed that she would NEVER do this to her family and bless her heart, she hasn't. Every year she goes out of her way to make the memories special for those around her. It's become a sort of mission in her life. Santa still holds a special place in her heart. She is so very grateful that her children can just see him as a big ol' guy that comes to spread joy and good will. They don't have to go to sleep wondering if he will save them from unspeakable horrors.
Her husband has gotten used to her overstriving over the holidays and just has learned to accept it. He's not aware of the motivations, but he is astutely aware enough to know which battles to fight and trying to get his wife to sleep at a reasonable time on Christmas Eve is a battle he knows he can't win. So they've fallen into the routine of him carrying the children to bed as he kisses her on her cheek and she begins her work in earnest.
The cookies are made and set out with a glass of milk, just like she had done as a child. Sometimes she'll even take one of her husbands boots and put flour on the bottom to make tracks from the fireplace to the cookies, for visual effect. The packages from Santa have to have different paper from those that the family bought. The good presents are still from the family but there's always some special something from Santa, picked out perfectily for the recipient that they didn't even know they wanted or needed. The squeals of delight in the morning always confirm that the right gifts were picked... but that would be hours away.
This particular night, after everything had that picture-perfect look for the children to awake to in the morning, she poured herself a cup of hot cocoa and took a few minutes to just sit and stare at the fire once more before putting it out. After all, no one wants to be accused of burning Santa's rear as he descends down the chimney. A quick glance around confirmed that all was in place, except for one thing. There was still the matter of her past that she had to let go of.
As she sat there alone, in the dark of the night, she had to face the fear that if she'd have fallen asleep too soon, she would have awakened not to hoof beats but to the alcohol breath of an adult. Didn't matter which one, they all had abuses of their own. Sometimes it was physical and sometimes verbal but always it was scary. Those people are long gone in the physical world but somehow they still have a hold on the life that she has now. A life that is so vastly different from the one of her childhood. This was the night to put them all to rest once and for all.
As she sat there reminiscing, she didn't concentrate on just the negatives. There were good times too but somehow they got overshadowed by the trying times. Tonight, yes, tonight there was going to be a turning point. She no longer wanted to be a slave to a past that she didn't have any part of creating but was just a victim of.
Slowly she sipped her hot chocolate and one by one, she remembered all the hurt and pain inflicted on her through the years. She took those memories and as she finished with them, thew them in the fire and then turned to the person emblazened in her mind and forgave them. Some were easy and some took a little more time. But one by one she faced them all between the tears flowing down her face into her lap and the burning in the pit of her stomach. As she came to the end of the list of people, she felt a peace she hadn't known in a long time and she paused when she was overcome by it... somewhere off in the distance, she swore she heard bells and hoof beats and the faint sound of Ho Ho Ho and Merry Christmas to all. She smiled and she knew once and for all that she would be ok. Some say that Santa doesn't exist, but for a mother who has faced battle after battle all her life, she knows better. Oh he may not be the fat man that the cartoons portray that comes down the chimney, but there is a spirit of hope. A spirit that convinces the soul that all will be ok. A flicker of hope that is deep inside the recesses of your being. Yep, she still believes and that belief has treated her well. Without believing as a child, she would have been crushed under the weight of the circumstances.
Today, she has gotten closure and no longer needs to look to Santa as the one that will save her. She has since learned that there is a real Saviour that was born this day to save her and her tormenters from their sin. The same Saviour that has shown her that forgiveness is possible and is not about the other person. She believes with all her heart and there is still the little girl inside of her that remembers the days when Santa was the star of the day and was an anchor in a rough sea of life. So if anyone asks her if she believes in Santa, she smiles and replies, why yes, I still believe....
Merry Christmas and remember to have compassion and understanding for those who believe differently than you do. The real reason of the season is all about love, and that was sent to the earth in the form of a babe who came to rescue a hurt and dying and dark world. How can we do any less?
Merry Christmas!
As she waits for slumber to finally come for the family she knows she will be up for a while yet. There is still work to be done and a past to reconcile in her mind. It's going to be a long night but one that she must face alone. She thinks back to the days when her biggest concern on Christmas Eve was trying to stay awake long enough to hear the gentle rap of reindeer hooves on the roof and the familiar Ho Ho Ho coming from downstairs. Sleep always won, and mercifully so.
She didn't grow up in the picture perfect settings that were portrayed on the cards of friends who sent their well wishes for the season. No, Christmas brought out an ugly side of the adults in her life. Egg nog with brandy, scotch on the rocks, hi balls, seven and sevens, champagne, Isabel rose wine, martini straight up with a lime twist - stirred, not shaken, Heineken beer... she could name all their drinks. What she couldn't know was what monster would emerge once the libations were consumed and what she would face for the next few days. Laying in her bed and hearing the fighting downstairs would reach something deep inside of her and rock her to her core. "Please Santa, remember that I am not my parents", she'd sigh into her pillow between the sobs she tried to stifle there. Many nights she lay there in fear, wondering if someone was going to come in and use her as a punching bag or worse.
Christmas Eve was always special though. That night she could have hope that Santa would come and certainly rescue her from the pit that she was caught in. She laid there and vowed that she would NEVER do this to her family and bless her heart, she hasn't. Every year she goes out of her way to make the memories special for those around her. It's become a sort of mission in her life. Santa still holds a special place in her heart. She is so very grateful that her children can just see him as a big ol' guy that comes to spread joy and good will. They don't have to go to sleep wondering if he will save them from unspeakable horrors.
Her husband has gotten used to her overstriving over the holidays and just has learned to accept it. He's not aware of the motivations, but he is astutely aware enough to know which battles to fight and trying to get his wife to sleep at a reasonable time on Christmas Eve is a battle he knows he can't win. So they've fallen into the routine of him carrying the children to bed as he kisses her on her cheek and she begins her work in earnest.
The cookies are made and set out with a glass of milk, just like she had done as a child. Sometimes she'll even take one of her husbands boots and put flour on the bottom to make tracks from the fireplace to the cookies, for visual effect. The packages from Santa have to have different paper from those that the family bought. The good presents are still from the family but there's always some special something from Santa, picked out perfectily for the recipient that they didn't even know they wanted or needed. The squeals of delight in the morning always confirm that the right gifts were picked... but that would be hours away.
This particular night, after everything had that picture-perfect look for the children to awake to in the morning, she poured herself a cup of hot cocoa and took a few minutes to just sit and stare at the fire once more before putting it out. After all, no one wants to be accused of burning Santa's rear as he descends down the chimney. A quick glance around confirmed that all was in place, except for one thing. There was still the matter of her past that she had to let go of.
As she sat there alone, in the dark of the night, she had to face the fear that if she'd have fallen asleep too soon, she would have awakened not to hoof beats but to the alcohol breath of an adult. Didn't matter which one, they all had abuses of their own. Sometimes it was physical and sometimes verbal but always it was scary. Those people are long gone in the physical world but somehow they still have a hold on the life that she has now. A life that is so vastly different from the one of her childhood. This was the night to put them all to rest once and for all.
As she sat there reminiscing, she didn't concentrate on just the negatives. There were good times too but somehow they got overshadowed by the trying times. Tonight, yes, tonight there was going to be a turning point. She no longer wanted to be a slave to a past that she didn't have any part of creating but was just a victim of.
Slowly she sipped her hot chocolate and one by one, she remembered all the hurt and pain inflicted on her through the years. She took those memories and as she finished with them, thew them in the fire and then turned to the person emblazened in her mind and forgave them. Some were easy and some took a little more time. But one by one she faced them all between the tears flowing down her face into her lap and the burning in the pit of her stomach. As she came to the end of the list of people, she felt a peace she hadn't known in a long time and she paused when she was overcome by it... somewhere off in the distance, she swore she heard bells and hoof beats and the faint sound of Ho Ho Ho and Merry Christmas to all. She smiled and she knew once and for all that she would be ok. Some say that Santa doesn't exist, but for a mother who has faced battle after battle all her life, she knows better. Oh he may not be the fat man that the cartoons portray that comes down the chimney, but there is a spirit of hope. A spirit that convinces the soul that all will be ok. A flicker of hope that is deep inside the recesses of your being. Yep, she still believes and that belief has treated her well. Without believing as a child, she would have been crushed under the weight of the circumstances.
Today, she has gotten closure and no longer needs to look to Santa as the one that will save her. She has since learned that there is a real Saviour that was born this day to save her and her tormenters from their sin. The same Saviour that has shown her that forgiveness is possible and is not about the other person. She believes with all her heart and there is still the little girl inside of her that remembers the days when Santa was the star of the day and was an anchor in a rough sea of life. So if anyone asks her if she believes in Santa, she smiles and replies, why yes, I still believe....
Merry Christmas and remember to have compassion and understanding for those who believe differently than you do. The real reason of the season is all about love, and that was sent to the earth in the form of a babe who came to rescue a hurt and dying and dark world. How can we do any less?
Merry Christmas!
Monday, December 21, 2009
It's a few days before Christmas. Stores are bustling with people trying one last time to find that perfect gift for Christmas. Lists are being made, scratched off and made again. Preparations are being made for feasts from one end of the globe to another. Church services are being planned hoping to have just the right take on words to finally get through to some of the hardest of hearts. Clothes are being ironed and freshened so everyone can look their best. Beauty salons are trying to work their magic on young and old alike. Cookies are baking, trees are being decorated, children are wound up in anticipatioin, songs are being sung, etc. Ah, the week of Christmas....
Then there is the flip side. For some it's a lonely time, a sad time, a time of remembering Christmas' past when visions of sugarplums danced in heads and a time to cry. 'Tis the season to be jolly - unless of course, you're not. Some will be facing the holiday alone for the very first time. Some will be looking at an empty chair and wishing that there was "one more time". Some will be looking at empty chairs, wondering if their missing loved one is all alone in some far, distant land. Some will just drink the week away, as if to wipe it off the calendar in some sadistic ritual. Some have been alone so long that it just doesn't matter. Some are facing insurmountable obstacles this Christmas season. Some are in financial ruins, some are facing their last Christmas on earth, some are too sick to remember what day it is. There are even some who are lost in the vast recesses of their minds, hardly recognizable to themselves or their loved ones.
And then there are those stuck between the two worlds, with a foot on each side, not sure which one will pull them in as the clock ticks down to Christmas day. They're facing battles of their own and staring down the demons within that are tempting to choke the joy right out of their souls. Yet there is still that little glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe, there will be a miracle or two for them this year. Bravo for those who can still let that single tear drip down their cheeks and find that little bit of twinkle left in their eye. That is exactly what Jesus was born for. To give that little glimmer of hope to a lost world.
This has been a hard few years for us. Things are looking a bit bleak this year and I have found that the things that have brought me such happiness in the past, seem insignificant at best this year. It's hard to get into the Christmas swing of things when you just don't have the funds. We go to the store and it takes every bit of willpower I have not to cry as we stick closely to the preplanned grocery list, not daring to look towards the other side of the store. The thrill of finding that one truly unique gift is lost this year because, quite frankly, if we did find it, we couldn't do anything about it anyway, so in many ways, it's just easier not to look. With no job on the horizon and no certainty of what tomorrow will bring, we have to just hunker down and pray for better days - soon.
Healthwise this has been a roller coaster ride of a year for me. Oh, I'm in far better shape than I was last year. After all, last year at this time, I was laying in a hopsital bed with a fresh scar from an open lung biopsy. Alone, scared and not knowing what tomorrow would bring. Oliver in one state, me in another, and no idea of when that would change. It was while in that lowest point that our house finally sold and that glimmer of hope was reignited in our lives. And there was Igloo, sweet, sweet Igloo. Oh how that dog could make me laugh, in the pits of my despair and in the freezing cold of Chicago winters, I could find reason to giggle as he would just do his Igloo antics. We had a future and a hope.
This year, while not catastrophic in the grand scheme of things, is difficult still the same. It's been hard on us to have Oliver lose his job and not be able to get one response from the hundreds of resumes he's sent out and appllications he's put in. I have to admit that sometimes the battle in my mind has become overwhelming. This year was supposed to be better... and after very careful and difficult evaluation, in many ways it is. There are blessings to be found in the midst of our lack of Christmas chaos. We miss Igloo but yet, at least Oliver and I are in the same place at the same time. We have been spending time together (ok, maybe a bit too much time... lol) We have wonderful friends who have truly become our family. We have a great church and home that we love.
And then there is the stillness that I never knew existed this time of year and believe it or not, there has been a gift in it. Because of circumstances, we have had to re-evaluate our traditions and ways of "doing" Christmas. Not by choice, mind you, but merely by circumstance, we have been forced to set aside the trappings of the season and just "be." We don't know what tomorrow will bring, or the day after that. We don't know if we'll still be here in the home that we love so much, or if we'll lose this home or just have to move because Oliver gets a job in yet another place. With the market as unstable as it is, we don't even know if we'll be able to sell if it comes down to it. We don't know if this will be my last Christmas or not. The latest reports from the doctors were not promising and yet, they still aren't quite sure what we're dealing with. It becomes very frustrating. The medications are not working and they make me feel awful and I'm caught between trying to decide to keep on fighting with this course of treatment or just begging off of it all altogether. The struggle marches on daily.
There are days we're up and days we're down. There is no way of knowing how far things will spiral out of control before they take the anticipated upturn. I can't even say I have peace in the midst of this storm. Oh I know it will all be alright, I just can't define what "alright" is. And yet there is still this little flicker in the depths of my heart that remind me that this is the season of miracles. Just as miracles have been happening for so many, many years before us and will continue for many years after our demise, there are still miracles to be found in this day. That is what keeps us going. Knowing, without a doubt, that there is a future and a hope for us. A plan predestined long before we were born. I don't know what form that will take, but I do know on whose birth I can pin that hope... and that is what ultimately this time is all about. The birth of Jesus. Whether you believe or not the rest of the year, within all of us there is that glimmer that starts to flicker at the least little stimulus of airflow. Do you feel God blowing on your heart today? I know I do and it's that hope that will carry me on - no matter what the future holds.
So don't bother to wipe the tear off my cheek. I wear it as a badge of honor because it's proof that hope still springs eternal and that there are brighter days ahead, just as there have been in the past. And in many ways, that makes this the best Christmas ever... no package strings attached. Merry Christmas.
Then there is the flip side. For some it's a lonely time, a sad time, a time of remembering Christmas' past when visions of sugarplums danced in heads and a time to cry. 'Tis the season to be jolly - unless of course, you're not. Some will be facing the holiday alone for the very first time. Some will be looking at an empty chair and wishing that there was "one more time". Some will be looking at empty chairs, wondering if their missing loved one is all alone in some far, distant land. Some will just drink the week away, as if to wipe it off the calendar in some sadistic ritual. Some have been alone so long that it just doesn't matter. Some are facing insurmountable obstacles this Christmas season. Some are in financial ruins, some are facing their last Christmas on earth, some are too sick to remember what day it is. There are even some who are lost in the vast recesses of their minds, hardly recognizable to themselves or their loved ones.
And then there are those stuck between the two worlds, with a foot on each side, not sure which one will pull them in as the clock ticks down to Christmas day. They're facing battles of their own and staring down the demons within that are tempting to choke the joy right out of their souls. Yet there is still that little glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe, there will be a miracle or two for them this year. Bravo for those who can still let that single tear drip down their cheeks and find that little bit of twinkle left in their eye. That is exactly what Jesus was born for. To give that little glimmer of hope to a lost world.
This has been a hard few years for us. Things are looking a bit bleak this year and I have found that the things that have brought me such happiness in the past, seem insignificant at best this year. It's hard to get into the Christmas swing of things when you just don't have the funds. We go to the store and it takes every bit of willpower I have not to cry as we stick closely to the preplanned grocery list, not daring to look towards the other side of the store. The thrill of finding that one truly unique gift is lost this year because, quite frankly, if we did find it, we couldn't do anything about it anyway, so in many ways, it's just easier not to look. With no job on the horizon and no certainty of what tomorrow will bring, we have to just hunker down and pray for better days - soon.
Healthwise this has been a roller coaster ride of a year for me. Oh, I'm in far better shape than I was last year. After all, last year at this time, I was laying in a hopsital bed with a fresh scar from an open lung biopsy. Alone, scared and not knowing what tomorrow would bring. Oliver in one state, me in another, and no idea of when that would change. It was while in that lowest point that our house finally sold and that glimmer of hope was reignited in our lives. And there was Igloo, sweet, sweet Igloo. Oh how that dog could make me laugh, in the pits of my despair and in the freezing cold of Chicago winters, I could find reason to giggle as he would just do his Igloo antics. We had a future and a hope.
This year, while not catastrophic in the grand scheme of things, is difficult still the same. It's been hard on us to have Oliver lose his job and not be able to get one response from the hundreds of resumes he's sent out and appllications he's put in. I have to admit that sometimes the battle in my mind has become overwhelming. This year was supposed to be better... and after very careful and difficult evaluation, in many ways it is. There are blessings to be found in the midst of our lack of Christmas chaos. We miss Igloo but yet, at least Oliver and I are in the same place at the same time. We have been spending time together (ok, maybe a bit too much time... lol) We have wonderful friends who have truly become our family. We have a great church and home that we love.
And then there is the stillness that I never knew existed this time of year and believe it or not, there has been a gift in it. Because of circumstances, we have had to re-evaluate our traditions and ways of "doing" Christmas. Not by choice, mind you, but merely by circumstance, we have been forced to set aside the trappings of the season and just "be." We don't know what tomorrow will bring, or the day after that. We don't know if we'll still be here in the home that we love so much, or if we'll lose this home or just have to move because Oliver gets a job in yet another place. With the market as unstable as it is, we don't even know if we'll be able to sell if it comes down to it. We don't know if this will be my last Christmas or not. The latest reports from the doctors were not promising and yet, they still aren't quite sure what we're dealing with. It becomes very frustrating. The medications are not working and they make me feel awful and I'm caught between trying to decide to keep on fighting with this course of treatment or just begging off of it all altogether. The struggle marches on daily.
There are days we're up and days we're down. There is no way of knowing how far things will spiral out of control before they take the anticipated upturn. I can't even say I have peace in the midst of this storm. Oh I know it will all be alright, I just can't define what "alright" is. And yet there is still this little flicker in the depths of my heart that remind me that this is the season of miracles. Just as miracles have been happening for so many, many years before us and will continue for many years after our demise, there are still miracles to be found in this day. That is what keeps us going. Knowing, without a doubt, that there is a future and a hope for us. A plan predestined long before we were born. I don't know what form that will take, but I do know on whose birth I can pin that hope... and that is what ultimately this time is all about. The birth of Jesus. Whether you believe or not the rest of the year, within all of us there is that glimmer that starts to flicker at the least little stimulus of airflow. Do you feel God blowing on your heart today? I know I do and it's that hope that will carry me on - no matter what the future holds.
So don't bother to wipe the tear off my cheek. I wear it as a badge of honor because it's proof that hope still springs eternal and that there are brighter days ahead, just as there have been in the past. And in many ways, that makes this the best Christmas ever... no package strings attached. Merry Christmas.
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