from our family to yours

Merry Christmas! from Vineyard Lexington on Vimeo.

hope is alive

Hello.

How was your Christmas?

Mine looked like this:

December 23rd: Oh What Fun!, a Christmas service for the whole family @VCC. I was an elf, and I found baby Jesus at the end. (He was under the tinsel, garland, and Christmas ornaments.) I went to Wal-Mart afterward, still dressed as an elf, and even amidst all the people walking through the parking lot, the guy selling garland picked me out of the crowd to pester me. I may have pointy shoes, but I'm a person, too. And I don't want your garland.

December 24th: Two Christmas Eve services, six Lindor white chocolate truffles, a nap, and another Christmas Eve service. I loved the darkness of the auditorium and hearing 170 voices sing out, "For He alone is worthy." It was beautiful and intimate, and I fell asleep that night thinking about how blessed I am to be in this church, with these people, and a child of this amazing God.

December 25th: The people walking in darkness have seen a great light; on those living in the land of deep darkness a light has dawned (Isa 9:2). I watched White Christmas and ate Raisin Bran in bed before heading out to spend the day with some of my favorite people on this earth. So much to make me laugh, so much to make me full, so many bourbon balls. I will not say I did not miss my family & the traditions I missed having for the first time in 24 years. But I am one blessed cookie to have the people in my life who are in my life.

December 26th: Happy day after merry Christmas day! (To quote Mom.) I went to work for a couple of hours, thought about how practical gas cards are & how I wouldn't be sad to get one, and was surprised by a Speedway card at my desk! And when I pulled into the gas station, my empty light was glowing. It's little things like a full tank of gas that make my entire day glowier. And the fact that I've scrubbed my bathroom and kitchen floors and watched a few episodes of The King of Queens and wrote a poem.

I hope you had a wonderful Christmas of experiencing God with us, wherever you were and with whomever you were. I for one hope to continue to experience His nearness in new and dependable ways in the days after Christmas. For He alone is worthy.

my favorite Christmas hymn

there's no place like home for the holidays

I'm back in the great state of Wisconsin. Flying out of Baltimore into Milwaukee, the pilot ended his welcome speech with a pause, then a very mischievous, "Go Bears." I looked around for the big burly man I'd seen earlier, dressed head-to-toe in green and yellow. Luckily we had half the US Army on our flight, so I felt relatively safe. As long as they weren't Green Bay fans. In which case, who would fly the plane once the pilot was dead? So I turned on my iPod and went to sleep. I don't have the energy to worry about these kinds of things.

And who knew Wilmore was so famous in the Louisville airport? Walking through security, the man at the conveyor belt noticed my sweatshirt (it has blaring white letters spelling "ASBURY," made out of the same material as bycicle reflectors, I'm pretty sure) and said, "Ever read A Mighty Rushing Wind?"
What a random question. I'd been thinking about whether or not to take off my shoes and wasn't ready, so I simply answered, "No?" Instead, I wish I would've been more composed so I could've answered, "No. Ever read The Little Red Hen?"
But then he said, "It's about the revival at Asbury in the 70s. Are you familiar with it?"
Why, no! There was a revival at Asbury in the 70s? Instead I simply nodded my head and walked through the laser gate that searched my soul for evil thoughts. I am always terrified of those things, even though I have nothing to hide. I hate being tested. I even hate eye exams when I get my license renewed. I just never want to fail.

But then, the guy on the other side of the soul-reader glanced at my sweatshirt and asked, "Is it true there's no place in Wilmore to get a cigarette?"
WHAT the HECK. The people in the Wal-Mart in Lexington haven't even heard of Asbury. How do these people in the Louisville airport know all about our little university?
I replied, "Um, I don't think I ever tried."
"But you couldn't, if you did, right? And everything's closed on Sundays?"
I just want to put my shoes back on. I smiled and nodded and took my Sketchers to a nearby bench. Then I looked around and noticed I was the only one in line. Poor guys were probably just really bored and lonely. And who doesn't like talking about Wilmore to pass the time?

A picture of my first night home:

Dad and Brother decided to go to a college Christmas concert instead of be home for my first night (Dad tried to make up for it by taping a giant picture of his head in a Santa hat to the passenger seat for when my mom picked me up at the airport, but I was already struggling with abandonment issues), so, to retaliate, I finished Dad's carton of peppermint ice cream. He doesn't know yet.
Then, feeling more full and therefore more generous, I tried to figure out how to wrap Dad's four pounds of Lexington Coffee & Tea coffee so that he couldn't smell it through the wrapping paper. Which is impossible, and my entire room smells like Peruvian coffee beans right now. (One of the most pleasant problems I've ever had.)
Then, I laid down on the couch at eight o'clock while Mom was watching Psych (Mom: "Have you seen this episode before?" Me: "Mom, please." What episode of Psych have I not seen, at least 3 times?) in an attempt to wait for the boys to come home (Me: "It's only seven and I want to go to bed." Mom: "Well it's really eight your time." As if that makes it any less pathetic), and I fell asleep.
Then, Dad and Brother got home, I woke up, told them hello, and then went to bed.
Now they're all at church, and I'm getting ready to put a meatloaf in the oven before I head out to join them.

I want to replace the 1/4 cup milk with eggnog, to show them they can't escape Christmas cheer, or me.

Merry Christmas from Wisconsin.

emotional commotion

I have been crying a lot lately, and only sometimes for very legitimate reasons.

On Christmas Eve, with hundreds of candles lit in the darkness, and singing "Silent Night," I thought of my grandpa. I used to sit on his musty tan bedspread beside him and listen to him pluck out the notes and chords on his guitar. I wondered if heaven is any different on Christmas, and I imagined my grandpa in the very presence of Jesus, while we sang about Immanuel.

But sometimes my crying is not so legitimate. The other day I cried at an episode of "Say Yes to the Dress." (Her mom left her when she was very young, and she was just the sweetest and wanted to please her future mother-in-law, who was like a mother to her. You had to be there.) And on a completely different day I cried while watching "Super Nanny." (The father - who was a Navy Seal! - was just really supportive, okay?) And yesterday when I saw that the gas prices had risen, my eyes teared up. (I have no excuse.)

And that's when I knew I was getting ridiculous.

I don't know what's wrong with me. It used to be that I only cried in very extreme circumstances, like when Boromir died in The Fellowship of the Ring. Now I cry when people simply love each other. I cry when I think about sadness - it doesn't even have to be a sad thing in particular, just knowing someone is sad makes me cry. I even have dreams where I am crying.

Today I watched an episode of The Office and my chin quivered.

Possible reasons for this recent emotional outlet in tear-form:

My Christmas lights blew out on Christmas morning, as if to say, "It's over, buddy. Pack up the holiday cheer and move back to Normalville."

The snow is beginning to melt, and there is nothing more depressing than patches of dead grass flattened by weeks of snow, singing with sorrowful, muffled voices, "Where once was light, now darkness falls...."

I broke the 2 on my keyboard. Now it's just a little black stubby thing.

And if that demon cat attacks me one more time, I am going to shove it down an ice-fishing hole and then plug up the hole. Last time I checked, "Heather Flesh" was not on the market at Pet Smart.

I know none of these are the reasons, because I was crying a lot before Christmastime. I think the real reason is that I am going insane. And I'm okay with that, as long as I don't know I'm insane when I finally go insane. My mother's grandmother went insane and sang hymns non-stop, clapping and dancing up and down the halls. I would like to be that kind of insane. Actually, that kind of sounds like me, anyway. So...I guess that's it, then. Either that or I've been abducted by aliens. Either option sounds pretty probable.

reason to rejoice

Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ! In his great mercy he has given us new birth into a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead, and into an inheritance that can never perish, spoil or fade. This inheritance is kept in heaven for you, who through faith are shielded by God’s power until the coming of the salvation that is ready to be revealed in the last time. In all this you greatly rejoice, though now for a little while you may have had to suffer grief in all kinds of trials. These have come so that the proven genuineness of your faith—of greater worth than gold, which perishes even though refined by fire—may result in praise, glory and honor when Jesus Christ is revealed. Though you have not seen him, you love him; and even though you do not see him now, you believe in him and are filled with an inexpressible and glorious joy, for you are receiving the end result of your faith, the salvation of your souls. - 1 Peter 1:3-9

a man in a santa beard playing christmas carols on his saxophone.

snowflakes softly and coldly landing on my cheek.

the smell of cinnamon from german pretzel vendors.

i'm not capitalizing any of my words because that's what artsy creative people do.

and because my hair is short now i feel i should be more artsily creative.

therefore i'm going to start making up words.

like artsily.

my favorite picture of my family, because why is mom looking off into the distance?

Merry Christmas Eve to all.

welcome, welcome, fa hoo ray moos

Next week is going to be great.

Tuesday I'm getting my hair cut, short. To the guys who have told me that girls with short hair are unattractive, I say, just wait.

Wednesday are double brand new episodes of Psych. USA. 10/9c. Wait for iiiiiiiit.

Thursday I'm taking my parents into Chicago to see White Christmas on Broadway. HOW. STOKED. AM. I. Dad doesn't know yet. I told him to clear his schedule for Thursday, and sometimes I pretend to slip up and accidentally give away the surprise. "I hope the weather's nice for when we go skiing next week - oops!" He has no idea the stemming and the plotzing and the shushing that's in store.

Next weekend I'm taking my final trip to KY to pick up my car and move the rest of my stuff into my duplex, affectionately nicknamed Mab (shortened from Mabsoot Manor, "mabsoot" meaning "happy" in Hebrew), before the final move-in after New Year's. Sometimes I very much wish I were still eight and adulthood is a long way off. Then other times I remember times like these and I'm ready:



And on my way back from KY I'm stopping by someone I haven't seen in far too long, for some quality Christmas cheer and friendship. We're going to go ice skating, hold hands, build gingerbread houses, and then...we'll snuggle.

I cannot wait.

Christmas lists

Men I Would Marry

1. Alton Brown - Not only did he whip up a sweet potato pie in 60 seconds, but he dressed up like a pilgrim and sat on the giant turkey float at the Macy's Thanksgiving Day parade. I admire this about him, as well as the fact that he is brilliant and makes molecules out of Styrofoam and advocates grape juice. Plus he's hilarious.

2. Burton Guster - He plays pretend and goes on adventures for a living, and that is the kind of living I want to be doing. And he can tap dance. And he's hilarious.

I'm not inclined to resign to maturity.

3. Aaron Rodgers - Any man who can maintain his manliness with his face shrouded in yellow deserves a doting wife. Also, according to Sunday's commentator, he's cool like the other side of the pillow. I have no intimation of his current state of sense of humor.

I am manly, even in yellow.

Professions I'd Profess

1. Radio City Rockette - Because they are beautiful and smiley and everything Christmas is wrapped up in their synchronized kicking legs. I particularly loved this year's outfits.

I want legs like these.

2. Foot model - I have particularly lovely feet (once the scars from summer camp heal), and they are way underappreciated by being shoed and socked most of the year.

3. Cheerful tollbooth operator - I usually have to work up the nerve to roll down my window at a tollbooth, because I just know the person I am rolling down my window to is probably not going to make eye-contact with me, and will most likely mumble and take my money with as much joy as if they were taking my kidney stone. I want to be a cheerful tollbooth operator so I can smile at people and wish them a good day and make their long trip seem a little bit shorter.


Places I Would Be

1. Whoville - Because only when living in a snowflake can dressing like candy-canes be every-day attire.

 2. The Pie Hole - It's colorful, I love pie, it's probably snowing there, and I think the Pie Maker is a dreamboat.

I am a dreamboat.

 3. Wilmore Old Fashioned Christmas - I have spent the past 4 Christmases walking down shop-lined Main Street, watching the tree lighting in the cold, drinking hot chocolate and eating homemade cookies, and singing the Hallelujah Chorus in a giant stain-glass church. This year I will only be there in my heart.

every day is a resolution

Things I have quit:

1. Ballet (age 4)
2. Gymnastics (age 8)
3. Band (age 12)
4. Show choir (age 15)
5. Business Management minor (age 20)
   
6. All the King's Men (age 22)
   

I'm sitting in the silence of an empty house, in my sage-green chair my dad pulled from the end of someone's driveway two summers ago. I'm currently reading The Rise of Silas Lapham, because I've taken a break from AtKM. (I say "taking a break," though I'm not 42- or even 27-percent sure I'll finish it before break is over.) I've already read Housekeeping (another American Novel novel) in this break within Christmas break. Part II of AtKM to be continued....

The silence has been nice. No TV, no radio, just the occasional sigh from the cat sleeping on my bed or a car passing on the slushy street outside my window. I found my mind wandering, however, even amidst the enjoyment of my book. The string of large-bulbed Christmas lights strung haphazardly across my room (Dad thinks my room looks like a trashy Christmas tree lot) makes me think of the Christmasses past. And the red snowman mug of Earl Gray tea beside me smells like fruity pebbles. I can't drink it anymore.

But speaking of quitting, New Year's resolutions are a ridiculous concept to me. Much like cookie jars (like cookies even last that long) and the hooks my dad put on the inside of the bathroom door to hang our bathrobes on, when no one in my family has a bathrobe. I make resolutions all throughout the year and don't need an entirely new one to encourage them to stick. I wonder if January ever feels used, like it's just a month in which people acknowledge how to improve themselves?

So as we approach the front stoop of the new year, what do I have planned? My New Year's resolution is to stop resolving and to fall into the hands of God, because if there's anything I've learned in the past year of my life, it's that human plans never, ever, ever go the way you think they will.

"I am the LORD. Those who hope in me will not be disappointed." - Isaiah 49:23