...and to all a good night!

Ahhh.  It is over and it is beginning. 

What a whirlwind this short Advent has been this year.  I am so grateful you were able to join in the journey, whenever it is that you find yourself reading this final entry for 2012 and all of the posts before it. 

The kids are in bed, the gifts are wrapped...tomorrow is our "around the town" family tour.  Distant family members are home, close family members are ready.  We've celebrated some and we'll celebrate some more.

I hope the blog helped you slow down and remember.  Hopefully, a short pause each day was either an antidote to "Holiday super cheer: yay!" or a way to consider the year behind and the year ahead.  For me, it has also been a great time of spiritual renewal.

To all of you who contributed, or commented, or sent notes or ideas, I thank you. 

I want to end with a flourish, a bang, a zoom...but I think ending with this short excerpt from a favorite book of mine is appropriate.

Here's what I knew at the beginning of Advent, and what I know now:  I fail every day at things, but I also succeed.  And I will never know why the failures loom before me like giant floats in the Macy's Day parade and the successes seem to shine brightly then fly away.  But I can only be myself -- and that's all any of us really need to be anyway.  The blog helps bring me back to that.  And I hope the same for you too. 

“Real isn't how you are made,' said the Skin Horse. 'It's a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become Real.'

'Does it hurt?' asked the Rabbit.

'Sometimes,' said the Skin Horse, for he was always truthful. 'When you are Real you don't mind being hurt.'

'Does it happen all at once, like being wound up,' he asked, 'or bit by bit?'

'It doesn't happen all at once,' said the Skin Horse. 'You become. It takes a long time. That's why it doesn't happen often to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don't matter at all, because once you are Real you can't be ugly, except to people who don't understand.”
― Margery Williams, The Velveteen Rabbit


Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!

My love to you all.

-Amy

For Unto Us...

by Charlotte Flowers

I gave up.

10 centimeters and 22 hours of labor into the birth of my third child, I knew there was no way I was going to be able to push that child out into the world. My image of myself as an experienced third-time mother and powerful birther of babies and all the memories of my second son's easy natural birth on the summer solstice four years earlier vanished, and I could not summon the mental strength to make my body do what it needed to do. The exhaustion of a long day's painful work that had begun in the dark hours of the previous morning buckled the knees of my spirit and I was left staring bewildered at my companions on this journey - my husband, the midwife, and the nurse. I had nothing left to give and yet somehow had to see this through to completion anyway.

I will always remember this moment as the first time in my life that I really had to acknowledge the limits of my own strength. Up until this point I fully believed that I could use my will to accomplish anything. The surrender of this belief was humbling.

I gave up.

But I was not alone. My husband saw it in my eyes, a thing he'd never seen in me before, and, though it scared him, he was able to help me to communicate. The midwife, when she finally understood what I was saying, assured me that if I rested, my body would continue the work of pushing, just slower than if I actively helped it. The doctors were there, too, to help me figure out what to do next, and to take the pain away enough so that I could regain my center and finish the work for me and my baby.

And most of all there was Isaac, before he even had his name. It was Isaac who worked with my muscles to push himself down while I took a moment to sleep and let the medication kick in. In the same moment that I acknowledged the limits of my own strength, Isaac came into his own and was an active participant in his own birth. My understanding of my own mortality met Isaac's will to be, and I knew that with his help I could go on. I pushed, and the midwife gasped as she saw Isaac's hand reach out beside his head, grasping forward, pulling himself into life.

Since that moment, I have been trying to accept my vulnerability and not fear the coming of my diminished capacities. The human paradox is that we are programmed to survive at the same time we designed to fall apart, and we live in the tension of those two truths. I learned, through Isaac's birth, that strength and determination are not qualities that I should try to hold onto permanently. These qualities exist in the collective and we borrow them as we need them. Sometimes, they do not even come to us directly, but appear in those around us, and we need to learn to lean into others to balance our weakness.

And when it is time to give up on an individual level, we must take comfort in the fact that strength endures beyond the fading of our light. We should never be surprised that a baby can be a savior.

 

 

 

(The amazing Charlotte Flowers blogs at http://thehometowntourist.blogspot.com/.  Thank you Charlotte for sharing your story!)

Mr. Henderson's Story - a Cosmic Convulsion

(This story is an excerpt from a sermon by the pastor at our church, David Van Dyke.  The full sermon is titled The Longing.)

I am aware that this holiday season is not easy for everyone. In fact it is very difficult and lonely for many. But I also know that in whatever you face, no matter how bleak the situation seems, in spite of the lack of hope you possess or in how badly your world seems to be arranged—I know that it is possible for the word of God to come to you. In a moment.  In an instant and in ways you never before imagined.

And it usually surprises us when it happens.  Fred Craddock once put it this way,

God’s coming in Jesus is an event which shatters our time sequences and we find ourselves remembering tomorrow and looking forward to yesterday. Advent assures us God will continue to come to us, and in surprising ways; sometimes in cosmic convulsions, sometimes in a child at its mother’s breast (Living Pulpit, vol.6, no.4).

About six years ago, during Advent, I went to visit Jerome Henderson, who was on Death Row in Ohio and about to be executed. Another Death Row inmate with whom I’d become acquainted, told me about Mr. Henderson’s pending execution and asked if I would go visit him saying, “He has no one. In all the years he’s been on The Row he’s never had one visitor.” So I agreed to go.

And this is how it was supposed to unfold. I would meet Mr. Henderson the night before his execution, and we’d talk for an hour or two. The next morning I would return to the prison, have a final prayer with him and then witness his execution. As he would tell me when we met, “I want someone there representing me and to witness what the State is doing to me, and I’d like you to write about it some day.”

So I arrived at the prison in Lucasville, Ohio, where executions in Ohio take place. I was led by a guard to building called the Death House. It was like something out of a movie. In the middle of a large round room with a high ceiling, sat Jerome Henderson, shackled and chained to the floor, seated at a metal table and chair,also bolted to the floor. Around the wall of the room where about six armed guards watching us. I took a seat across from Mr. Henderson, who thanked me for coming.

I had a Bible and a pad of paper with me and I asked him what he’d like me to know about himself. He told me about his family and some of his childhood friends. He told me about the trouble he’d gotten into. He asked me to call his sister when it was all over to tell her that he loved her. I can’t remember all of it anymore but I did a lot of listening and note taking. When he was a bit talked out, I asked if I could read some scripture. He said he’d like that so I read a few passages.

Then he told me that the previous Sunday, before he was transferred to the Death House, the prison chaplain conducted a worship service where he led the inmates in singing a song Jerome Henderson had never before heard but which he thought was beautiful. He wondered if I knew it and started humming the tune to O Come, O Come, Emmanuel. I nodded and said, “I know it.” I then repeated the words.

O come, O come, Emmanuel, and ransom captive Israel
that mourns in lowly exile here, until the Son of God appear.
Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel shall come to thee, O Israel.

 

O come desire of nations bind, all peoples in one heart and mind,
bid envy, strife and discourse cease; fill the whole world with heaven’s peace.
Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel shall come to thee O Israel.

Jerome Henderson, having eaten his last meal, chained to the floor and hours away from his execution said, “Man, that’s a beautiful song.”

As our visit was ending, I suggested we pray together. We bowed our heads and he took my hands in his. We prayed for strength. We prayed for courage. We prayed for forgiveness and for all families whose lives have been shattered by violence. And I prayed that somehow, in some way, and into that bleak setting, light would shine in the darkness. As we prayed I could hear Jerome whispering, “Yes Lord, yes Lord.”

I closed the prayer saying something like, “In the name of the One who came and who’s coming again we anticipate, Jesus Christ our Lord…” and as I was concluding the prayer, I heard footsteps coming toward us.

We opened our eyes and looked up. Standing next to us was the Warden and a security guard. I was sure the Warden was there to tell me it was time to leave. Instead, the Warden said this,

Mr. Henderson, The United States Supreme Court has issued a stay in your case pending further appeal.  There will be no execution tonight. I’m sorry for this inconvenience and we are making arrangements to move you to a comfortable room in the infirmary for tonight before transferring you back to Youngstown in the morning.

We were stunned. I was speechless. Jerome Henderson, on the other hand, started praising the name of Jesus with such gusto and volume that I’m sure the other inmates all over that prison that night heard the shouts of joy coming from deep inside the Death House.

The universal longing is real and resides in each of us whether we’re in the Death House or our own house. Each of us longs for the mountains before us to be made low and for the valleys in our way to rise up and for the rough places to be made smooth. We long for the crooked places to be made straight and for the deserts to break forth into blossom. And we long to see a light, shining in the darkness for us.

And every once in a while, when we least expect it or think it’s possible, God comes to us.

Amen.

A picture of a cosmic convulsion from Google Images

 

 



 

Moments That Take Our Breath Away

I remember reading this a few years ago, but recently saw it going around Facebook again, and thought it was worth posting.  It's not necessarily joyful, but I am thinking about the last lines much as I approach the many family celebrations coming up:  "Remember, to give a warm hug to the one next to you, because that is the only treasure you can give with your heart and it doesn't cost a cent."

A Message by George Carlin:

The paradox of our time in history is that we have taller buildings but ...shorter tempers, wider Freeways ,but narrower viewpoints. We spend more, but have less, we buy more, but enjoy less. We have bigger houses and smaller families, more conveniences, but less time. We have more degrees but less sense, more knowledge, but less judgment, more experts, yet more problems, more medicine, but less wellness.

We drink too much, smoke too much, spend too recklessly, laugh too little, drive too fast, get too angry, stay up too late, get up too tired, read too little, watch TV too much, and pray too seldom.

We have multiplied our possessions, but reduced our values. We talk too much, love too seldom, and hate too often.

We've learned how to make a living, but not a life. We've added years to life not life to years. We've been all the way to the moon and back, but have trouble crossing the street to meet a new neighbor. We conquered outer space but not inner space. We've done larger things, but not better things.

We've cleaned up the air, but polluted the soul. We've conquered the atom, but not our prejudice. We write more, but learn less. We plan more, but accomplish less. We've learned to rush, but not to wait. We build more computers to hold more information, to produce more copies than ever, but we communicate less and less.

These are the times of fast foods and slow digestion, big men and small character, steep profits and shallow relationships. These are the days of two incomes but more divorce, fancier houses, but broken homes. These are days of quick trips, disposable diapers, throwaway morality, one night stands, overweight bodies, and pills that do everything from cheer, to quiet, to kill. It is a time when there is much in the showroom window and nothing in the stockroom. A time when technology can bring this letter to you, and a time when you can choose either to share this insight, or to just hit delete...

Remember; spend some time with your loved ones, because they are not going to be around forever.

Remember, say a kind word to someone who looks up to you in awe, because that little person soon will grow up and leave your side.

Remember, to give a warm hug to the one next to you, because that is the only treasure you can give with your heart and it doesn't cost a cent.

Remember, to say, 'I love you' to your partner and your loved ones, but most of all mean it. A kiss and an embrace will mend hurt when it comes from deep inside of you.

Remember to hold hands and cherish the moment for someday that person will not be there again.

Give time to love, give time to speak! And give time to share the precious thoughts in your mind.

AND ALWAYS REMEMBER:

Life is not measured by the number of breaths we take, but by the moments that take our breath away...

Joy!

Buzzfeed.com has assembled a really uplifting page, that I am sure many of you have seen.  It's 26 Moments that Restored Our Faith in Humanity from the last year.  This moment is my favorite of them all. 

Moment #19:  The famous rugby player who visited his biggest fan in the hospital



www.imgur.com

 

Is this a moment of joy or what?

 

May you find and live joy today and everyday.

 

 

Slow. Love. Glyph.

Alice just finished a report on Heiroglyphics.  While reading about it I learned a few things.  Heiroglyphic means "sacred inscription."  And one single character in the alphabet is called a "glyph."

This summer I began a quest to change my thinking and incorporate some new habits into how I live.  Writing S.M.A.R.T. goals or resolutions didn't appeal to me, but I found that as I was trying to think differently about things, sometimes a simple symbol would appear in my brain -- easy to draw, and something that would quickly "bump" me into one of my "new" ways of thinking. 

I have several glyphs, but one that has been front and center this week is this one: 

 

 

As a Christmas celebrator, I'm feeling a wee bit of pressure.  Will small and simple gifts suffice?  Will my idea of only consumables prevail?  Will I be paralyzed in holiday overwhelm?  Am I paralyzed in holiday overwhelm?  How many people are coming over on Monday?  Should we rearrange all of the furniture?  Will all of my work projects get done? 

 

Luckily, I have my glyph.  Think slow.  Think love.  Yes, you are going to have to wrap those gifts, but take as long as you want and think of it as a loving gift.  Quit driving like a maniac.  Don't rush.  You can be late.  (Honestly, will anyone be surprised?).  No frantic thoughts:  Just slow.  Just love. 

 

Maybe it will work for you, too.

These Small Silent Moments

(Another great quote from someone I don't know, courtesy of the quote section of Goodreads.  Cheers to Douglas Coupland.)

“My mind then wandered. I thought of this: I thought of how every day each of us experiences a few little moments that have just a bit more resonance than other moments—we hear a word that sticks in our mind—or maybe we have a small experience that pulls us out of ourselves, if only briefly—we share a hotel elevator with a bride in her veils, say, or a stranger gives us a piece of bread to feed to the mallard ducks in the lagoon; a small child starts a conversation with us in a Dairy Queen—or we have an episode like the one I had with the M&M cars back at the Husky station.

And if we were to collect these small moments in a notebook and save them over a period of months we would see certain trends emerge from our collection—certain voices would emerge that have been trying to speak through us. We would realize that we have been having another life altogether; one we didn’t even know was going on inside us. And maybe this other life is more important than the one we think of as being real—this clunky day-to-day world of furniture and noise and metal. So just maybe it is these small silent moments which are the true story-making events of our lives.”
― Douglas Coupland, Life After God

5 Steps for a Patient Advent

(Note: It's the third week of Advent -- the pink candle! -- hurrah!  This is the week of Joy -- so while I am busy seeking out some joyful entries for our last full week together, here is a cross post of an article that I think gives good advice not only for Advent, but for life itself.  Enjoy!)
 

by Andy Otto

We all know that Advent has become a counter-cultural time for patience and waiting, a virtue becoming less and less known to our fast-paced world. I recently ordered an iPad mini but was finding myself with growing impatience since I had to wait two weeks for its delivery. Such things can be testing for us. The holiday season is especially prone to these feelings and reactions.

Here are five steps for practicing true Advent patience using the example of standing in a long checkout line at a busy store: You notice a woman at the front of the line who has been at the cash register for 10 minutes already causing a bit of commotion. You don’t know precisely the cause of the slowdown.

1. Pause — You begin to notice a feeling of irritation and impatience arising in you. Without allowing yourself to react like you usually would, just pause and observe what is going on. The woman is taking a while and you’re not reaching the register as fast as you would have liked. Other customers are becoming noticeably irritated, even vocal. Just take in the situation.


2. Step Back – A great practice is taking a step back from the feeling arising in you. Instead of saying, “I am irritated,” say, “Irritation is happening to me.” This lets you detach yourself from the feeling. There is something happening outside of you that is causing a feeling to appear. It is beyond your control. You certainly have no control of the woman or the store management. And the feeling of impatience or irritation is a consequence of the circumstance. See the feeling for what it is without allowing it to control you. By “disidentifying” with it you no longer let the feeling of irritation dictate your reaction. It just is a feeling, and that’s it.


3. Plus Sign — Saint Ignatius of Loyola says that a good Christian should make a favorable interpretation of another’s statement or action, rather than jumping to a conclusion. This is often known as the Ignatian “plus sign.” You may not know the reason for the woman’s holding up the line but you can give her the benefit of the doubt. Perhaps she is buying a gift for her sick husband and wants to ensure she has the right size. Maybe her credit card failed to go through or perhaps her item is being gift-wrapped. Frustration in situations like this occurs due to mistrust of others. She is probably not intentionally holding up the line though for some reason we can tend to see others as out to get us. The truth is most people have good intentions, and plus signing is a recognition of this truth.


4. Relate — Can you place yourself in the woman’s shoes? There may have been times you’ve held up the line at the store for one reason or another. Indeed, the woman maybe frustrated herself. No one likes holding up a line. She may want to get home to get dinner on the table and would rather not be there any more than you. Putting yourself in her shoes, even identifying with her in some way, can help reduce any impatience you have.


5. Offer it up — When worst comes to worst, you can always exercise the old Christian practice of “offering up” your suffering and irritation to God, as a penance or simply as an opportunity to strengthen your patience and your spirit. This acknowledges that good can come from suffering. “Every test that you have experienced is the kind that normally comes to people,” Saint Paul says in his first letter to the Corinthians. “At the time you are put to the test, [God] will give you the strength to endure it, and so provide you with a way out.” (1 Corinthians 10:13)

Life presents so many things that test us, but these things build endurance and patience. If, through these steps, we can acknowledge that much is beyond our control, then there is hope! At the end of Advent the Emmanuel is revealed, an exciting time of new beginnings, hope, redemption and friendship. But we’re not there yet, and that’s okay. As Pierre Teilhard de Chardin says in his famous prayer: “Accept the anxiety of feeling yourself in suspense and incomplete.”

The Author : Andy Otto
Andy Otto was a Jesuit for two and a half years, studied communication, and currently works in programming for CatholicTV in Watertown, Massachusetts. He lives in Boston and blogs about Ignatian spirituality and finding God in all things at his website, GodInAllThings.com.
See more articles by Andy Otto (11).

Fall Moment: 52nd Run

(Note: I did have to look up the reference to the "many worlds" theory you'll see below. I knew it somewhat, but didn't know who to credit...except the amazing Nick Herbert and his book Quantum Reality, where I first learned about quantum physics [in a writing class, of all places.])

 

 

I had so many ideas of what I would do when I finally got to my 52nd weekend of running. 

-I would run my usual weekend route with a small group of friends.  All who would whoop it up with me as we approached my porch, where Matt and the kids would be cheering. 

-No, I would have a huge party with everyone I knew and combine it with my birthday. I would get runners rolls from Bonnie, I would have Matt prepare a Bloody Mary bar.  I would have baskets of bananas, apples and gogurts to share.  My running mix would provide the background music. 

-No, I would wake up at dawn and run in the woods somewhere, then meditate.  Then get a fancy hot stone massage at Estetica -- sparing no expense.

-No, I would meet JoJo in Des Moines (half way between St. Paul and Columbia, MO) and we would run a 5k together.

-No, I would run the marathon the weekend before. 

-No, I would just quietly go on a run and then have a huge feast of a meal that night with friends and family.  I would basque in the glow of candlelight and a Babette's Feast-like evening.

Ahhhh, you may say I'm a dreamer...

So here is how it really went.  It was Saturday, October 6, 2012.  I woke up and packed my running bag and I went to a board retreat, figuring I would stop somewhere after for a run.  In my sustained effort to come up with the perfect plan for this run, I had planned nothing.

On the way home from the board retreat, I almost didn't stop to run.  But I called Matt, and he encouraged me.  I yelled at him.  He patiently kept trying to encourage but not encourage me. 

So I stopped off to run at Como, feeling off, feeling tired, feeling like I wanted to put it off.  Feeling like I just didn't want to run.  But there I was, in my running gear and at Como.  I figured I must. 

I started running, and -- ugh -- a bad run.  There are days out there where it doesn't feel like running to me, it feels like a great, wonderful, energizing and exciting thing.  But on this day there were aches, pains and panting.  Once started though, one might as well keep running, and I did that twice around the lake.  When I was finally done, I snapped a picture to commemorate the "festive" occasion:

So I had one year of running in the bag.  More muscle, less fat.  More determination, less fear.  More distance, less duffing.

And I guess I had already celebrated that moment, to tell you the truth.  In all of my hoping and planning for that day and that run, there was a bit of wonder: would I really do it?  (I am not what one would call a "champion of consistency" so when I can sustain anything, it's usually by the skin of my teeth.)  I kept a log of every weekend run -- where I went, if I went with someone.  Seeing that log fill up was quite exciting.

In this incredible moment, I was exhausted and maybe even somewhat deflated...but somehow that harder moment was also part of all of the "lead up" moments: thinking about what it would be like to get to 52 weeks kept me running in all of the weeks ahead of it.  I am also reminded of the quantum physics "many worlds" theory of Hugh Everett-- which in essence says that there are multiple realities occurring all the time, and as human beings we are limited to understanding just one of these realities.  This theory basically says that in this moment right now, there are actually an infinite amount of other moments occurring.  So then, in every run - there is the best run ever, and the worst run ever.  Time spirals, it doesn't lineate.

(I know, I know -- good Lord, where is the wine?  Am I really going on about quantum physics?!)

I guess this is all just to say:  Sometimes, incredible moments don't look like what  you might expect, but they are incredible just the same. 

Find Light

On my way to work this morning I was thinking that it had been a long week.  All around me I could feel deadlines looming, things needing to get done before people went off for end of year vacations.  And the combined pleasure and panic of gatherings, holiday special treats, etc., was just heavy upon me.

I got to my desk and did a quick check on my phone.  I noticed my niece Val had written a note to me and my sisters and she included how she was going to make a point today to spend 20 minutes in the light.  I thought that small goal was such an important thing for all of us:  find some daylight.  These are the shortest, darkest days of the year...we are -- or at least I am -- low on Vitamin D and subsequently energy -- yet the end of the year pace only quickens.  We have to get out there, even for just a few minutes, and find daylight.

Then, later on in the afternoon, I heard the tragic news out of Conneticut.  It is so unfair and so wrong on so many levels -- it's really hard to take it in.  I found myself exasperated:  What is with our country?  What is wrong with us that over and over again people can just go on these shooting sprees?  What is wrong with us???

So here, too, I am at a place where I must "find light."  I cannot turn away from tragedy, but I also cannot be conquered by it.  I have to find my moments of light - from the last year and even from this week:  Andy so cutely reading his new book in bed; Alice laughing with her friends; Finn and Millie competing for space on the bed.

I must know what has gone on and follow the story -- but I won't stay by the radio and TV all night watching. 

If ever there was a moment to find the light in this Advent and winter season of darkness, that moment is now. 

Advent Music

And now, a little musical interlude.  Celebrate the Advent season with Minnesota Public Radio.  Here's a beautiful Advent celebration to tune into...I think this is a repeat of last year, but I do enjoy the mixed medium approach:

Enjoy!   http://minnesota.publicradio.org/display/web/2011/11/29/advent-voices

Dan's Incredible Moment

(My lovely friend Dan shares another story this year.  Thanks, Dan for sharing this moment around your grandmother's passing.  The arrival and departure of loved ones, and the moments around these occasions, certainly become knitted into the fabric of who we are.  Grateful for your reflection!)

We had been in the hospital for over 24 hours. We wondered what would happen, but we never left her side. No one doubted the fact that Grandma Evelyn would not recover from the massive stroke that afflicted her at the age of 93, but we also had no idea at which point she would feel she could leave us. Because, as it was something we learned as a family, no one leaves this world, seemingly takes that last breath, until that one precise moment. That one moment when they feel they can say goodbye and leave us in peace.

This is not for those ripped from this world through accidents or violence. This is for those that have the opportunity to have those final moments of joy, forgiveness, peace, and understanding. For my grandmother, though, it was a final moment of laughter – a moment when she knew we would be okay without her.

It was a sunny day in late August. My mother was with her mother when the stroke hit. I was over an hour away and got there as quickly as possible. The family gathered; my sister, her husband and daughter, my brother, his wife and kids, my grandmother’s sister and husband. We knew there was no way she would survive; we could only keep her company as the end neared.

We stayed with her. Some of us read her passages from the bible; John 13 and Psalms were her favorite. Others talked with her about what was new in our lives and the memories we had. While each of us spent our time with her, the others stayed in the waiting area; waiting, wondering, praying.

Then, for some reason we were all there. We surrounded her bed and were reminiscing on her blessed 93 plus years on this Earth. Someone remembered that at age 56 she decided to learn to ride a snowmobile. She had a black and yellow snowsuit, the one I use to wear to work on the farm when I was a kid. Her sister recalled her tales of trails. We laughed together.

My sister is the one that turned and noticed, “She’s gone.”

We were all there, together, and that is what my grandmother was waiting for. We had each held her hand, we had each visited with her, we had each had our chance to say goodbye. But the moment she wanted, the moment she held on for, was the moment we were together, as a family, remembering the good times.

 

The Serious Heart

Picture by my beautiful niece Ruby Kramer; taken during this summer's kid photo contest at the cabin.

"There is so little the serious heart requires:  friends, faith, a window open to the world, pride in work well done, and strength to live in a world at war and still maintain the heart's own private peace..." ~Helen Deutsch

25 Ways to Find Joy and Balance During the Holidays

(I love these tips for finding joy and balance -- struggling with depression is not an easy road, and as one who really "works on my issues" especially during these short dark days, I found this article useful.  I hope you do, too.)

ByR. Morgan Griffin
WebMD Feature

Reviewed byLouise Chang, MD

 

Feeling down during the holidays can be tough, especially since you seem so out of step with the world. Everyone else seems to be beaming, ruddy-cheeked, bursting with holiday spirit. You’re feeling wretched and exhausted. But here’s something to cheer you up the next time you’re stuck in a room of revelers at a holiday party: Plenty of them are probably unhappy, too.

 

“I think a lot of people would say that the holidays are the worst time of the year,” says Ken Duckworth, MD, medical director of the National Alliance on Mental Illness. “They’re just straight up miserable, and that’s not only for people with clinical depression.”

So if the family gatherings, the endless parties, and the shopping get you down, you’re hardly alone. But people with depression -- or who have had depression in the past -- need to be especially careful when coping with holiday stress. While it might take some conscious effort on your part, you can reduce stress -- and maybe even find some holiday joy, too. Here are some tips.

 

Finding the Holiday Spirit: Emotions

1. Keep your expectations modest. Don’t get hung up on what the holidays are supposed to be like and how you’re supposed to feel. If you’re comparing your holidays to some abstract greeting card ideal, they’ll always come up short. So don’t worry about holiday spirit and take the holidays as they come.

2. Do something different. This year, does the prospect of the usual routine fill you with holiday dread rather than holiday joy? If so, don’t surrender to it. Try something different. Have Thanksgiving at a restaurant. Spend Christmas day at the movie theater. Get your family to agree to skip gifts and instead donate the money to a charity.

3. Lean on your support system. If you’ve been depressed, you need a network of close friends and family to turn to when things get tough, says David Shern, PhD, president and CEO of Mental Health America in Alexandria, Va. So during the holidays, take time to get together with your support team regularly -- or at least keep in touch by phone to keep yourself centered.

4. Don’t assume the worst. “I think some people go into the holidays with expectations so low that it makes them more depressed,” says Duckworth. So don’t start the holiday season anticipating disaster. If you try to take the holidays as they come and limit your expectations -- both good and bad -- you may enjoy them more.

5. Forget the unimportant stuff. Don’t run yourself ragged just to live up to holiday tradition. So what if you don’t get the lights on the roof this year? So what if you don’t get the special Christmas mugs from the crawl space? Give yourself a break. Worrying about such trivial stuff will not add to your holiday spirit.

6. Volunteer. Sure, you may feel stressed out and booked up already. But consider taking time to help people who have less than you. Try volunteering at a soup kitchen or working for a toy drive. “You could really find some comfort from it,” says Duckworth, “knowing that you’re making a small dent in the lives of people who have so little.”

 

Finding the Holiday Spirit: Family

7. Head off problems. Think about what people or situations trigger your holiday stress and figure out ways to avoid them. If seeing your uncle stresses you out, skip his New Year’s party and just stop by for a quick hello on New Year’s Day. Instead of staying in your bleak, childhood bedroom at your stepfather’s house, check into a nearby hotel. You really have more control than you think.

 

8. Ask for help -- but be specific. See if your spouse will lug out the decorations. Ask your sister to help you cook -- or host the holiday dinner itself. Invite a friend along on shopping trips. People may be more willing to help out than you expect; they just need some guidance from you on what to do.

9. Don’t worry about things beyond your control. So your uncle and your dad get into a fight every holiday dinner and it makes you miserable. But remember your limits. You can’t control them. But you can control your own reaction to the situation.

10. Make new family traditions. People often feel compelled to keep family holiday traditions alive long past the point that anyone’s actually enjoying them. Don’t keep them going for their own sake. “Start a new holiday tradition instead,” says Gloria Pope, Director of Advocacy and Public Policy at the Depression and Bipolar Support Alliance in Chicago. “Create one that’s more meaningful to you personally.”

11. Find positive ways to remember loved ones. Holidays may remind you of the loved ones who aren’t around anymore. But instead of just feeling glum, do something active to celebrate their memory. For instance, go out with your sisters to your mom’s favorite restaurant and give her a toast.

 

Finding the Holiday Spirit: Parties

12. Don’t overbook. “The holidays last for weeks and weeks,” says Pope. “People really need to pace themselves or they’ll get overwhelmed.” So don’t say yes to every invitation willy-nilly. Think about which parties and you can fit in -- and which ones you really want to attend.

13. Don’t stay longer than you want. Going to a party doesn’t obligate you to stay until the bitter end. Instead, just drop by for a few minutes, say hello, and explain you have other engagements. The hosts will understand that it’s a busy time of year and appreciate your effort. Knowing you have a plan to leave can really ease your anxiety.

14. Have a partner for the party. If the prospect of an office party is causing holiday stress, talk to a friend and arrange to arrive -- and leave-- together. You may feel much better knowing you have an ally and a plan of escape.

 

Finding the Holiday Spirit: Shopping

15. Forget about the perfect gift. If you’re already feeling overwhelmed, now is not the time to fret about finding the absolute best gift ever for your great aunt or your mailman. Remember: everybody likes a gift certificate.

 

16. Shop online. Save yourself the inconvenience, the crowds, and the horrors of the mall parking lot by doing the bulk of your shopping online.

17. Stick to a budget. The cost of holiday shopping mounts quickly and can make people feel out of control and anxious. So draw up a budget long before you actually start your shopping and stick to it.

 

Finding the Holiday Spirit: Self-Care

18. Stay on schedule. As much as you possibly can, try to stick with your normal routine during the holidays. Don’t stay too late at parties. Don’t pull an all-nighter wrapping presents. Disrupting your schedule and losing out on sleep can make your mood deteriorate.

19. Exercise. While you may not feel like you have the time to exercise during the holidays, the benefits are worth it. “We know that exercise has a pretty strong anti-anxiety, anti-depression effect,” says Duckworth. You can work physical activity into your errands. When you’re shopping, take a few extra laps around the mall. Walk your Christmas cards to the post office instead of driving.

20. Eat sensibly. When you’re facing a dozen holiday parties and family gatherings between now and New Year’s, it’s hard to stay committed to a sensible diet. But try. Eating healthy may keep you feeling better --physically and emotionally. On the other hand, don’t beat yourself up if you go overboard on the cookie platter in the break room. It’s not a big deal. Just get back on track the next day.

21. Don’t rely on holiday spirits (or other substances.) “The holidays are a time of heavy drinking,” says Duckworth. “It’s a common strategy for getting over anxiety about holiday parties or having the boss as your Secret Santa.” Remember that alcohol is itself a depressant and abusing it will leave you feeling worse. It also may not be safe for people taking antidepressant medication, says Pope.

22. Try a sun lamp. As the daylight grows shorter, lots of people find their mood gets gloomier. While some have diagnosed seasonal affective disorder (SAD), even people who don’t may still have a seasonal aspect to their depression. Talk to your doctor about trying a sun lamp. It could improve your mood.

23. If you take medication, don’t miss doses. In the hustle of the holidays, it’s easy to slack off and miss medication, says Pope. Don’t let that happen. Make sure that you’re up-to-date on your refills, too.

24. If you see a therapist, have extra meetings. To stay grounded, plan ahead and schedule some extra sessions during the holiday season. Or you could ask about the possibility of doing quick phone check-ins.

 

25. Give yourself a break. “The holidays can make some people dwell on their imperfections, their mistakes, the things they’re not proud of,”Duckworth tells WebMD. But try to cut yourself some slack. “This is not an easy time of year for a lot of people,” Duckworth says. “Be gentle with yourself.”It is the season of kindness and forgiveness, after all. Save some of it for yourself.

Heidi's Moments

(Heidi Staloch shares some incredible moments.  This entry also happens to include a nice tribute to our wonderful St. Paul.  We are so lucky to have you in our life, Heidi!)

My most incredible moments are the ones that truly take me by surprise. There are the times when you happen to wake up, rested, before everyone else...at the cabin...and have a cup of coffee and read looking at the lake. I love the cabin as you know. However, I often am so busy with the nothingness of cooking, going down to the lake, back up to the cabin, watching the kids, etc. - all of which is so extraordinary - that I don't pause. Pause for appreciation? Perhaps. I know I am blessed by my family, my friends, my husband, my kids, my people. And it isn't at all that I take it for granted. I don't. Well, most of the time I don't! But it is moments like that where God has given me an unexpected pause in my evermoving life to reflect and notice how all of those things refuel me to my core and make me so honored to share my blessings and be blessed by so many.

 

I think of that day, you may remember, when I begrudgingly went for a longish run from our house, down to the river, up to the lake street bridge, through St. Thomas, then back home on Summit (in the middle where I love to run on the grass and get lost between lights). I even hit the great poetry on the sidewalks on St. Clair Ave. down to the river and was completely uninspired. I turned onto the river and clodded along. It wasn't a bad run, mind you. Just a "nothing" run. Then I saw her. The girl who sailed by me in the knee highs. She had an athletic build and tall long legs...maybe as tall as me. She wasn't one of those runners who you envy for their ease of running and running fast. Rather, she was just gorgeous. She embodied hard work, effort, perseverance, joy, strength, patience...all things that so inspire me. She inspired me. She inspired me the rest of my run. I noticed all that was around me with such a different attitude. One of gratitude for where I live...I heard the crew down on the river cheering each other, ran by those walking around more than one college campus, ran up an amazing avenue, by churches, old trees, bikers, walkers, other runners. I felt touched by her grace...her graceful movement. I think of this so often and continue to feel that moment shifted me not just for that run, but forever. 

 

 

 On these days in late fall, and this year also post-election, where I still feel a bit aggravated by how differently we all react to experiences, to the divide in politics, to the poor, to the rich, to our neighbors, to our friends, to our family...I really try to reach for that moment where her grace brought such a clear sense of unity and peace. When I can touch it, I believe...and that is the most incredible moment for me...when I believe. That is why I love advent. It is a time when you so freely believe in so much.

 

 

 

Love at first sight?

This is a special moment shared by Jessica:  "This is our 3 year-old Foster meeting his baby sister Hudson for the first time. You can see both awe and trepidation in his face ... and this after asking nearly every day for 7 months when she would arrive!"

Certainly a moment to remember.  Congrats Jessica and family and welcome to the world, Hudson!

The Creak of Dawn

(Special thanks to Monica Fitzgerald, aka "Pep!" -- a dear and beloved friend and pseudo-sister.  Thanks for sharing this entry!  I hope today is one of the days you had a special coffee moment.)

 

The Crack (or is that the creak?) of Dawn...

 

I'm an early riser. Didn't always used to be that way, but for about 10 years now I have easily woken up at or before 6 am. There is not much I enjoy more than heading downstairs and as the sun gently rises, reading the paper from cover to cover with a hot cup of coffee.

In reality, this hardly ever happens.

Why you may ask? Exhibit A shown here.

Oh how I love them, but oh how they torment me with their keen hearing. You see, our house is well built and not too creaky, but when I dare to tempt the fates by QUIETLY opening our door, then QUIETLY going to the bathroom before attempting to navigate the steps, I find myself holding my breath waiting for one of them to cry out.

If I am lucky, I can survive this portion of the competition, but then it's on to the stairs. The dreaded stairs.

Should I try to dash quickly down them? Or slowly descend, stopping on each step, hoping beyond hope that I've not been discovered?

As it turns out, none of my strategies seem to matter much. One of the boys inevitably wakes up and calls out (which of course wakes up his brother). If it's Danny, he's up and running out of his room, excitedly telling me all about his latest dream (this morning it was that he lived in an aquarium and his best friend was scuba diving there with our fish.) If it's the little guy in his crib, he begins his loud and persistent demand for MOMMY! MAMA! Benji will not take no for an answer. There is no winning.

So when I wake up early if I have a book I try to read. If not, I daydream about the newspaper just waiting for me one flight down. Calling my name I swear. I will admit that sometimes I feel like a prisoner in my own home.

Then when my impulses get the best of me, although I know I shouldn't, I try once more to sneak downstairs. And every once in a great while I succeed. Then there are the other 99% of the times.

There's always tomorrow ;-) -Monica

Evolution -- My Winter Moment

A few weeks ago, Matt and I got to introduce Alice to one of our favorite places on earth: New York City.  We love New York and could go there once a month if only we could afford the extravagant life required of that city: excellent food, amazing theater, museums and perhaps most importantly, roasted almonds from a street vendor pretty much whenever you want them. Heaven.

Alice has been wanting to come with us to New York since she can remember. We first told her she could come when she turned nine. We weren’t quite ready that year.  But this summer, I looked at the calendar and saw that Veteran’s Day was on a Monday in November just after Alice’s 12th birthday weekend,  Plane fare was in the affordable range for the three of us, so plans were made.

We were pretty sure she would love it, but we wondered if she would like it the way we like it -- which is the “get up and go go go go go go because we’re only here four days” way. We had many back up plans set if needed, and when a hurricane paralyzed the city the week before, we knew this time things would be unique.  So we packed up, headed out and brought along a “what will be will be” mind set.

We arrived, took the train from the airport to Manhattan.  I'm not sure what we expected when we walked up from the subway, but suddenly -- there we were. N...Y...C!  Just as it always is. And here was our daughter right by our side!  Through the trip we saw she was old enough to walk along with us, to point out new things to us, to enjoy with us. To shop with me while Matt napped, to explore with Matt while I lingered over painting after painting after painting.

Alice had minimal requests for the trip beyond just doing whatever we did.  She did, however, request a day at the Museum of Natural History. And even though Matt and I had spent a day there on our last trip, we knew there was more to see and we looked forward to it.

That day and the weekend was glorious -- nearly sixty degrees and sunny. It was New York’s antidote to the hurricane -- a second summer. Once in the museum, Alice requested to see two things: the huge whale, and the Easter Island head replica. On our previous trip, we hadn’t seen either. I am not entirely sure how we missed the whale, as it hangs from a room about the size of a cathedral.

But I do know how we missed the Easter Island head. That one was located in a far corner of the museum...definitely off the beaten path (if there is such a thing at that museum). The walk there took us through a series of rooms we also hadn’t seen, one that included a stump from a gargantuan tree. And the final room also included several collections from the anthropologist Margaret Mead who I primarily know from her famous quote, "Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed citizens can change the world. Indeed, it is the only thing that ever has."  The artifacts and stories from her anthropology work were were wonderful, and I never would have seen them if we hadn’t been seeking out the Easter Island head.

This picture captured a special moment -- Alice just standing before the statue and taking it in through her own lens. What a moving experience for us: to see Alice, through her own eye, capturing that image. 

In that moment, I saw evolution. The older Alice was coming more keenly into focus, and the younger little Alice -- “Allie” -- was skipping away. I felt everything -- pride, happiness, mourning, anticipation, fear, gratitude -- but mostly love. What a gift it is to have this girl in my life, taking me new places, seeing things from her own point of view, and growing into a beautiful adult.

The day before we had been to the Guggenheim and I was captured by the exhibit of Picasso’s black and white paintings and sketches. I knew his cubist work came later in his career -- but what I didn’t know is that he went in and out of cubism.  I also know artists are keenly aware of the political and social realities of the world, but I didn’t realize how much Spain’s civil war had influenced Picasso how it was powerfully expressed in his work. He grew. He changed. And so did his world.

(The black and white sketch of this "Woman with Flower Writing" was at the Guggenheim)

When we arrived at the Natural History museum, we ducked into one of the small theaters and watched a short film about scientists in Antarctica, exploring the theory of inflation and using it to find signatures to new black holes...the universe continues to grow and change.

I am always amazed by how even in the physical world, nothing is permanent. At my beloved cabin, islands slowly morph and change over time as chunks of them detach from one island and float off to another.

And so then is my daughter growing and changing -- my skipping little girl in her pink flowered overall shorts with a perpetual stuffy nose -- that little one is fading away and this new long-haired, skinny-jeaned, smart, swimmy and funny young woman is emerging.

As a parent I think we never know how we'll feel as our kids enter each phase of life...and it's not just parenting,  Long-lasting love includes people growing and changing too. 

And I guess my job is to watch, learn and be there.  To be glad when I am there for the happy and learning moments, and be equally glad when I am there for the darker and more frightening moments that adolescence and life always bring. 

I'm glad for the moments.  I'm glad I'm there.

12.5.12

Every moment of light and dark is a miracle. ~Walt Whitman

 

 

May we live each one of them.

Glimpses and Flashes

(This is an entry I randomly found online.  I don't know Shauna Niequist nor have I read her book Cold Tangerines: Celebrating the Extraordinary Nature of Everyday Life, but I think you'll agree that her thoughts below are a good match for this year's Advent blog.  Enjoy.)

“I have always, essentially, been waiting. Waiting to become something else, waiting to be that person I always thought I was on the verge of becoming, waiting for that life I thought I would have. In my head, I was always one step away. In high school, I was biding my time until I could become the college version of myself, the one my mind could see so clearly. In college, the post-college “adult” person was always looming in front of me, smarter, stronger, more organized. Then the married person, then the person I’d become when we have kids. For twenty years, literally, I have waited to become the thin version of myself, because that’s when life will really begin.

And through all that waiting, here I am. My life is passing, day by day, and I am waiting for it to start. I am waiting for that time, that person, that event when my life will finally begin.

I love movies about “The Big Moment” – the game or the performance or the wedding day or the record deal, the stories that split time with that key event, and everything is reframed, before it and after it, because it has changed everything. I have always wanted this movie-worthy event, something that will change everything and grab me out of this waiting game into the whirlwind in front of me. I cry and cry at these movies, because I am still waiting for my own big moment. I had visions of life as an adventure, a thing to be celebrated and experienced, but all I was doing was going to work and coming home, and that wasn’t what it looked like in the movies.

John Lennon once said, “Life is what happens when you’re busy making other plans.” For me, life is what was happening while I was busy waiting for my big moment. I was ready for it and believed that the rest of my life would fade into the background, and that my big moment would carry me through life like a lifeboat.

The Big Moment, unfortunately, is an urban myth. Some people have them, in a sense, when they win the Heisman or become the next American Idol. But even that football player or that singer is living a life made up of more than that one moment. Life is a collection of a million, billion moments, tiny little moments and choices, like a handful of luminous, glowing pearls.  It takes so much time, and so much work, and those beads and moments are so small, and so much less fabulous and dramatic than the movies.

But this is what I’m finding, in glimpses and flashes: this is it. This is it, in the best possible way. That thing I’m waiting for, that adventure, that move-score-worthy experience unfolding gracefully. This is it. Normal, daily life ticking by on our streets and sidewalks, in our houses and apartments, in our beds and at our dinner tables, in our dreams and prayers and fights and secrets – this pedestrian life is the most precious thing any of us will ever experience.”
― Shauna Niequist, Cold Tangerines: Celebrating the Extraordinary Nature of Everyday Life

Midnight at the Oasis

Today in the twin cities Monday came gray and dreary.  A little laughter seems in order.

Perhaps a clip from a movie that celebrates the theme of this blog in the most unique of ways? Waiting for Guffman.  If you haven't seen this movie, may I humbly recommend it.  Particularly for fans of community theater, or fans of watching the State Fair Talent Show auditions...this scene may be familiar.  Throughout this show, I laughed until I cried.

The town is gearing up for a celebration of their sesquecentennial...and here is just one of the auditions for the show:

 

 

 

Enjoy some laughter tonight!

Littles and Bigs

To get the blog started in the easiest way, I present an incredible moment that just occurred in the last hour.  Tired after jogging, I heard the pitter pat of 9-year old Andy's feet skipping down the stairs.  Or, perhaps I should rephrase:  Tired after jogging, I nearly jumped out of my skin thinking several shelves of books had collapsed upstairs, then realized it was just Andy barreling down the stairs. 

"Hey!"  I called. 

He stopped, "Yeah?" 

"I left a Diet Coke on the coffee table, can you bring it up to me?" 

He agreed and even called out, "should I put it in a cup?"  I reassured him it was okay to just bring the can.  There was a lot of kitchen noise and things seemed to be taking a while...but in a few moments, he came into my room.  Not only was the Diet Coke in a cup, he had gone down to the basement freezer and filled the cup with ice.  And not only was it in ANY cup, he rummaged around and found my very special Coke cup in the cupboard. 

There are big monumental moments in life that you want to capture and remember forever -- and there are small and significant moments that bring joy.  For me, there are few things more wonderful than an icy coke, hand delivered, by my favorite little guy, in my favorite cup.  

This out of focus picture does not do it justice -- but you get the idea.  This small moment means a lot to me.  It means somehow in the midst of my missteps and failings as a parent, my kids are thoughtful and think of little things that make another person happy.  It means that my baby boy is growing up and can bring me an icy coke and then make a ramen noodle, cinnamon toast and cutie-orange lunch for himself and his sister.  (Honestly, he just started walking the other day, didn't he?). 

Small, but incredible to me.


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A few logisitic items on this first Sunday of Advent.

Some of you knew I was going to host another Advent blog, and have shared some great ideas or other Advent traditions with me.  There are so many cool things people are doing - and here are some that I offer today:

• Spiritual Seekers may really enjoy Jan Richardson's blog, The Advent Door.  Jan is also hosting an online advent retreat which may be of interest.  I found Jan's blog last Advent through a friend, and I so love the combination of art, poetry, and prayer.  Jan is a Presbyterian minister from ?Texas? I think.  Really beautiful work and thoughts.  www.theadventdoor.com

• I'm just learning how to knit, and my mom told me about a community knitting project that the most wonderful of yarn shops, Lila and Claudine's in Mahtomedi, is hosting on line via rivalry.com  It's an Advent scarf where you are emailed directions each day for knitting -- and then the scarf is done at the end of Advent.  I am new to the whole world of knitting and the best I can do is to keep trying to knit a line a day (not even close to the whole pearling thing yet), but some of you knitters may dig this.  www.lilaandclaudines.com

• Catholic friends who enjoy the structure of monastic and daily prayer may want to join in with the Ignatian and Jesuit communities who offer a modification on the "daily examen" for Advent via Loyola press -- pretty simply put you combine the daily reflection with a short "O Antiphon" The daily examen is a practice many use throughout the year.  Learn more about the advent version and the examen itself here:  http://www.ignatianspirituality.com/advent/

• I do like poetry.  This advent poetry blog includes a bunch of poetry by one of my favorite writers, Madeleine L'Engle.  It's from 2008 but can work any year:  www.adventpoetry.blogspot.com

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And finally, a note on tinsel and ribbons.

I know the holiday season isn't all joy for all people -- it's pain for many of us.  I understand that incredible moments are often moments of despair -- and nothing anyone wants to celebrate.  But for me, the message of hope in this season of darkness is one that says "Though we see, hear, feel and experience pain, we choose to hope."  I read this excerpt this morning from our prayer of confession at church:

"...bad things tend to affect us more than good things.  Fear often seems stronger than faith.  In our attempts to mask the dark corners in our world, we wrap them up in tinsel and ribbons and spend our time in forced holiday cheer..."

I don't want this blog to be forced holiday cheer.  I want this to be about joy.  Deep down joy, the kind that has fear, pain, and growth mixed in.  Joy from living in the present moment and finding delight in the small things, pausing in the moments of greatness because these moments are all the more precious when we consider painful times.  I want to find more joy in living each day. 

I'm glad we're in this together!  Thanks for reading along.

Eve of Advent: Welcome & "Incredible Moments"

Welcome Back! I’m so pleased you are along for the ride this Advent season in the year of 2012. This year, I am dancing with the theme of “incredible moments.” 

I'm learning that if I can just sit inside of waiting and not long for the wait to be over, I can sometimes experience incredible moments. I'm also learning that to be at peace with waiting is to be at peace with the present.  When I am living in the present moment, incredible moments appear more frequently - or perhaps I am just tuned in more readily.

An incredible moment, like the experience of waiting itself, is not universally defined. There are life-changing moments -- the loss of a loved one, welcoming new life... there are unexpected moments of joy -- seeing a first bloom, running into a dear friend just when you needed to see a friendly face. And moments of unexpected pain as well.

And for me and I know many of  you, when the list is long and the days are short, it feels like moments slip away as quickly as these short days.  Today is December 1st; yet I feel like I am just wrapping my arms around September.

My hope for me, for you, and for this blog is that amidst the busyness of end of the year work and celebrations, we can all slow, appreciate, and find some incredible moments. And perhaps reflecting back on some from the year behind will set the stage.

The blog is a work in progress -- I love your ideas and feedback, it shapes what is to come in the days ahead. I have a loose structure and there is space for growth and development in the next four weeks. Be in touch. Let me know what you are liking and what you are wanting more of.  I am grateful for your thoughts.

~Amy

 

"Write it on your heart that every day is the best day of the year." 

~Ralph Waldo Emerson