Advent

It was as I sat watching the first Advent candle being lit in church, that I decided I wanted my own advent wreath. It’s not something I’ve ever really been into, and it’s not something we had in our family growing up. But suddenly, I wanted one.

Here’s the thing, though. With my ME/CFS diagnosis, my nervous system is hyper-sensitive, and prone to inflammation from things that other people’s bodies don’t even pay attention to.

Chemical sensitivities are almost always an issue for people with ME/CFS, and I noticed this in myself over the last few years. I am keenly aware of odours, and I can get overwhelmed by fragrances quickly, even if they’re natural, like essential oils.

Suffice it to say, my home has become a scent-free and paraffin-free household. I always purchase a couple beeswax candles wherever I find them, but it turns out the purple and pink of Advent are hard to come by—well, after Advent has already started, anyway.

So, while I knew I wanted an advent wreath with candles, I also knew that, like everything else, I was going to have to improvise and make my own.

The wreath was the easiest part. Then, I managed to find some plain votive holders at Michael’s — you’d think these would be ubiquitous this time of year, but no. And lastly, the candles. The DIY kit arrived from Amazon just a few days ago.

We are on the fourth Sunday of advent, and here I am, lighting my wreath for the first time.

But for now: hope, love, joy, and peace—I will take them all. And because it is also the first night of Chanukah, I used the shamesh to light the advent candles—because Chanukah reminds us of miracles, and I’ll take a few of those too 😉

#IAmGrateful 31

Happiness

“The moments of happiness we enjoy take us by surprise.

It is not that we seize them, but that they seize us.”

- Ashley Montagu

I am grateful for the moments of happiness that 'seize' my heart and my attention. Each of these moments strung together over time render deeper feelings of joy, peace, and belonging.

And while happiness is not an all-the-time feeling, it is the proof that uncomfortable feelings such as sorrow, frustration, grief, or disappointment are also not all-the-time feelings. As we come around the corner of anger or hurt, a moment of happiness may be waiting to seize us again.

339/365

Joy is... a sunshiny day!

That, and not having to Photoshop over a hundred dust specks out of this image. Yay for professional sensor cleaning!

329/365

Joy in the [very] little things!

325/365

SUMMER!!!

126/365

30 1/2

In the summer time, my schedule is not as packed with things to do. Often I find that each day kind of runs into the next, and my sense of time tends to disappear a little bit. So it was the other evening, as I was climbing into bed, that I thought of the fact that it was July 13.

When I was a kid, this was an important day in my mind. It marked the half way point between my previous birthday and my next birthday. It meant that I could officially refer to myself as whatever-and-a-half years old when asked my age. Somewhere in my early teens, I stopped referring to my age in terms of halves. And if someone asked, and we were well into fall or winter, I would just say, "well, I'm almost..." whatever age was coming up. But every July 13--in my head--I would quietly think, "I'm officially #-and-a-half." Every year. Including this one.

I am 30 1/2.

Doesn't even really roll off the tongue.

I wasn't sure about turning 30. I'm still not sure about being 30. Half way through the year already, and I feel like it's mostly been an uphill adventure. Tight budgets, long winter, challenging work, change and transition. Summer has arrived, and while the pace of things has slowed dramatically, the joy in things continues to be something I must make more of a conscious effort to find and embrace than usual.

It is there. In the taste of snap peas from my garden. In the warmth of the sunshine. In brisk walks and good talks with friends. ...I am ridiculously blessed, and I am thankful for that--otherwise, this would be a really long year! The Fruit of the Spirit nourishes when we are in a season of drought. The Armor of God protects when we are attacked by challenges and doubts. I just need to maintain perspective.

Still, I think I'm also a little bit thankful that I am now closer to 31 than 30. Not that I'm thankful to be getting older. But thankful of the reminder that time keeps moving forward. I know from past experience that the desert place is only temporary. And God can make a path for me through desert sand just as well as anywhere else.

Joy--There's An App For That!

I'm pretty sure that yesterday was an example of the way God designed community to be. And I got to be smack dab in the middle of of it all!

It started out with a birthday party. I have been working all year with a little guy, J, who just turned six, and I was invited to his birthday party at Galaxy Land. My respite family was also invited, having met J at our office's Winter Festival at the end of February. So I picked up S and we headed to the party. We met family. Ate pizza and birthday cake. And we enjoyed the rides (S took me on the Cosmic Bounce [read: miniature Drop of Doom] three times!). It was such a treat to be a part of the celebrations. J and his family looked like they were having a ton of fun, and it's nice to be able to chill with kids from work but not have to make them 'work'! I also love it when the families I work with can interact and connect with each other outside of office functions. AND it was so nice to be able to take S out for an aunty-and-niece afternoon. I have been working with N&S and the kids for almost four years, and the enthusiasm with which I took S to this party just reminded me how much they really are my second family. I could have gone on that Cosmic Bounce with S indefinitely, just for the joy of sharing the activity with her!

After J's party, I shifted gears for SC's birthday. Just a slightly different affair. But just as much fun! SC got a pasta-maker for her birthday, so we all had home-made pasta for supper. Four foodies and two non, and yet all six of us were fully and enthusiastically engaged in the pasta creation and production. I think at one point we were even cheering each other on! So fun! After the most yummiest of suppers, we continued to celebrate with dessert, drinks, gift-opening, and post-supper conversation. The atmosphere was light-hearted and peaceful. Added to the beauty, mind you, was the conversation itself.

A significant portion of the evening included stories of one person, or their friends or family, helping out someone else in the group in some way, or vice versa. The stories were so uplifting and positive. I thought, this is how community is supposed to be! Having the means to help friends in their circumstances; caring about the people and the things they care about; being purposefully engaged in the goings-on of their worlds; the fluid interaction and overlap of social circles. And all of it being so... valued! ...Like, "of course I can help you figure out that!" or "of course I want to be a part of that!"

"We don't accomplish anything in this world alone ... and whatever happens is the result of the whole tapestry of one's life and all the weavings of individual threads from one to another that creates something." -- Sandra Day O'Connor

Joy Comes!

So, as I mentioned in my last post, I was running the projector for the interface worship service that was held tonight at St. Paul's. Through art and liturgy and music, the worship service is meant to facilitate listening to the Holy Spirit. The theme of the Holy Saturday service is the Rending of the Veil, which refers to the veil that was torn at the time of Christ's death, symbolizing the direct relationship now available between man and God. A member of the congregation gave a small talk on suffering, touching on Christ's suffering, the suffering that happens to us today, etc. Following the talk was a meditative time. Often there is a slide show running during this time for those who prefer to meditate with visuals. Because I was running the projector, I also monitored the slide show.

The slides were portraits (photos, paintings, drawings) of both random people and Jesus (kind of alternating back and forth). It started out that in all the portraits, the facial expressions or poses portrayed suffering, pain, sadness--that sort of thing (similar to the photo below [not mine]).

I didn't much like the pictures, although many were very striking. And yet my strong interest in looking at pictures kept me watching each one. The thoughts running through my head were things like, we suffer, He suffered; our suffering doesn't compare to His; there is a time for suffering; suffering is universal. And I could totally appreciate those truths in my head. In my heart, however, was an underlying feeling I couldn't describe right away. There was a part of me that was keeping track of the number of slides viewed relative to the total number in the presentation, because as engaged as I was in the photos, I kinda just wanted to be at the end of them. Kind of like how a person watches the clock in a boring class. You know you have to be there, and that the information presented is important, but if it wasn't necessary, you'd totally be elsewhere.

About half way through the slide show, there was an image of Christ with His arms outstretched upwards, His face towards the sky, and His facial expression kind of neutral. The slide after that was a photo of a little girl with her arms outstretched, and with a silly, sticking-out-her-tongue facial expression. It caught my attention; this child was definitely not suffering! The images following still alternated between photos of people and portraits of Christ; however, in each image now, the facial expressions were happy, smiling, laughing. I quickly realized I had a subtle smile on my own face; the same kind I get when I watch my nieces and nephew play, or when I'm looking at photos of a past event I've shared with friends. I suddenly liked looking at the images a lot more!

After the slide show had ended, I realized that the process (on screen and in my head/heart) kinda mirrored the process that happens in real life. We know that suffering happens. We wouldn't ask for it, and given other options, I'm sure many of us would choose the out rather than the pain. We don't suffer all the time--we're not meant to. But because we live in a fallen world, we know that we will experience suffering, and that God sometimes places us in those circumstances to "grow us" in some respect. Still, I would have to say that I tend to move through times of hardship in a one-foot-in-front-of-the-other kind of manner. It's a time when I know God's truths in my head, but I don't really feel it so much in my heart. And I'm continually looking at the clock and wondering when it will just be over. ...And then there is a moment where it changes. A blessing; a healing; a realization. And I notice that the growing pains are gone, and the suffering has stopped. The blessing washes in and lightens the heart.

The disciples probably knew in their heads the promises Jesus had made right before His crucifixion. But how long those three days must have felt. Even Jesus had moments where He just wanted it to be over (Mark 14:36; Mark 15:34). Yet when we suffer, we grow by remaining engaged in Him, even though our heart doesn't like it and we feel like it's just our head that's keeping us going. But engagement heightens awareness, which heightens our relationship with God, and opens the door for His Spirit to work in us. And we then also become more acutely aware of when circumstances shift. And the next time we encounter suffering--whether in our lives or those of others--maybe we find ourselves looking at the clock just a little less often.

...It's almost Sunday. The suffering is done. Time to get your joy on.

Peace

"Joy is peace with its hat thrown high in the air, and peace is joy with its arms folded in serene assurance." -- Unknown

Living the Experience

"To experience community is to know the joy of belonging, the delight at being known and loved, the opportunity for giving and growing, the safety of finding a true home." -- John Ortberg