So this is Christmas.

So this is Christmas

And what have you done

Another year over

And a new one just begun

And so this is Christmas

I hope you have fun

The near and the dear one

The old and the young

A very Merry Christmas

And a happy New Year

Let's hope it's a good one

Without any fear

I've always liked this Christmas song, but with a different sentiment than most of my other holiday music selections. Rather than being spiritually moving, or dripping with cheesy holiday cheer, I've found that there is truth in these words that reflects a reality of Christmas as we get older. Wish hard as I might, in my "old age" Christmas is no longer all mistletoe and holly, presents under the tree, and snuggling by the fire while it snows outside. Mixed with the usual excitement of returning home for the holidays to a beautiful white Chicago Christmas to visit old friends and catch up with my crazy cousins was a bit of loneliness and sadness which I know from my extensive knowledge of Christmas movies and music is commonly associated with the holiday season.

The nostalgia of the holiday season gets to me pretty deeply. I put up my tree early and listen to Christmas music almost exclusively. I think of good memories of Christmas seasons that are long gone with Brad and Grandma who I miss dearly-especially at this time of year. I think about how my cousins are growing so fast that I can't keep up, and how much I am missing by being across the country from them. I welcome their funny stories and little laughs and sweet hugs, trying to take in their little personalities which have changed so much since last time I was home. I feel the tension of returning home as an adult yet still feeling sometimes like a child. I try to keep my head and heart from spinning in circles as more and more of my friends are getting engaged, married, having their first babies. I try to enjoy the current holiday season for what it is, rather than hoping and wishing and dreaming about starting traditions of my own with a future family that seems, at this time of year, painfully out of reach. And I work hard to hold my head high and ignore the feelings of being left out as friends are splitting holidays with new families and experiencing the increased amounts of sentimental moments that like it or not we are all hard wired to desire at Christmastime. I try to push all of these heartaches aside and sit quietly with God, appreciating the spiritual significance of the season, only to grow increasingly frustrated with my lack of patience and discipline. I reflect on the year that has passed, all I am grateful for, and I hope and dream and pray about the new year.

So, this is Christmas. Truly, the most wonderful time of the year. I do love it. But, for now, I'm glad the new year has begun.

You Might Understand Me Better After this Post.

Alright. Picture the world's most adorable three-ish year old (see photo above). I was, if I do say so myself, quite cute back then. This very picture actually graced the cover of our town newspaper, The Glenview Announcements, in the mid eighties because they felt the need to display my cuteness to the whole town, apparently. It now hangs in the stairway at my parents' house in Chicago.

So, one day little Maggie was busy coloring, one of the things I always have done best (ask my college roommates), and decided to color a picture of an elephant. I must pause to let you know that this is one of my mom's top five all time favorite stories about me. One of a select few of those go-to "tell your friends/future husband/me-when-I-need-to-hear-it" stories in which my true colors were shining even as a three year old. I was sitting at the table, coloring like usual, being all quiet and angelic while the boys were probably running around, making my mom crazy racing and crashing and breaking stuff or whatever it was that they did while I tried to mind my own business. So I started picking out colors for a simple elephant picture and began to panic. From Sue's recollection of the story, it went something like this:


Little Mags: "Ummm, Mom? I don't know what color to color the elephant."
Mom: "Well, honey, what color do you want the elephant to be?"
Little Mags: "I don't know! I can't color it grey, because that's too boring. And I'd like to color it pink, but there are too many pink elephants!"
Mom: (probably trying not to laugh at her daughter) "Okay, maybe blue?"
Little Mags: (at this point my mom swears I was becoming increasingly worked up, on the verge of tears) "Well, blue might be nice. Or green. Or, maybe I could make him a lot of colors, like plaid, or polka dotted, or some other pattern. But maybe he would like to be yellow, or dark red, or orange..."


I kid you not. I have heard this story more times than I can count, and at this point she says I totally broke down. Freaked out. Got so overwhelmed with my options that I could not possibly come to terms with sticking to any one of my fine options. She didn't know what to do with little anxious OCD color conscious, incapable of making a decision Maggie. I, at the idea of having to choose just one color for the elephant, came entirely unglued.

I tell you this because my mom reminded me of the story the other day. Apparently, fight it as I do in my adult life, this is the way that I am wired. I may, at times, seem to know what I want and confidently and independantly make good decisions for myself. Sometimes I do. But, the majority of the time, I am more like this image of little Maggie. Paralyzed to the point of near inaction in the face of a decision, big or small. Afraid of missed opportunities, hurting someone else's feelings, or hurting myself. Afraid of failing, or maybe afraid of succeeding. Afraid of change, and afraid of always staying the same. I'm afraid of missing out, ordering the wrong menu item, getting tired, saying the wrong thing, or picking the wrong color.

So I deliberate. And I waver. And I call Emily. I make lists. And I talk to whoever will listen, not for their advice really, but because it helps me to talk it out. I make myself crazy mulling over options. Then I wait. And I get stuck and frustrated in the waiting.

I know that we are each uniquely, fearfully and wonderfully made; but this is something about myself that I think could use a little refining. So in 2009 I'll be trying to work on my decision making abilities, I think. It's a cute story, yes. But I would like it to be a little less true of my adult self today. I know that my optimistic and active imagination will probably always consider every angle of every situation, and that many times there isn't a simple solution- so thoroughly working through the options is healthy. But I need, more often than not, to be better at the decision making process.

Although, I admit. There is definitely something beautiful and maybe poetic about a little kid coloring a patchwork multicolored elephant and being satisfied with weaving together the best of all the options and making it work; which I'm told by the way, was the result of the little tantrum.

Decking the Halls

Have you decked your halls yet? You'd better believe I have. And no, I didn't even wait until December 1st, the date that universally marks the social appropriateness of decorating for Christmas. I was one day early, and I don't regret it at all. Right now I am sitting at Peet's, attempting to study for a final in an hour and a half, complete the papers due this afternoon (which I still haven't started...) and finish out the quarter with a bang, but I am distracted by Christmas.

And all thanks goes to Karli, who is always looking out for my being on top of current events, flooding my inbox with "Karli saw this on CNN and thought you should see it" emails (which I love) for this morning's little nugget of awesomeness. I mean, I love Christmas and everything, I'm a full supporter of almost all things holiday related but seriously? What would you do if these people were your neighbors??!?! (click this link, you won't be disappointed)

Hope and Renewal

This morning I went to the Westmont chapel service of Hope and Renewal, celebrating the first day back to school after the Tea Fires. It was a beautiful service, full of humility, gratitude, and wisdom, and I am so glad that I made the time to go.

I loved being back in chapel and on campus at Westmont. I was admittedly quite a joiner during my years as a student there. I rarely missed chapel, spent too long at every meal in the D.C., went to every home soccer game... so, for me, it was nice to be back. Walking on campus and into the gym, thankful that it was all saved from what could have been devastating fire damage, I had one of those moments where I was transported nostalgically into a moment where my soul was joyful and at rest. Time stood still for a second and I felt full and safe, solid, rooted; connected to the past, present, and future best versions of myself.

As I was listening to Ben Patterson speak, it was like coming home. I guess, in a sense, returning to Westmont is coming home, as it was my home for four years; but gathering with that community, singing together and listening to Ben's voice is familiar and comforting. His prayers are prayers that I feel and know after so many years. Sitting on those familiar bleachers in my gym-which had become my sanctuary, the place where God more often than not met me right where I was, was a good feeling. A feeling I was at some point used to, but recently have not been able to replicate elsewhere.

The basic gist of his message, and of the service (which you can download and listen to here), was of how we as Christians are at times to be in grief and hard times; a point which comes hand in hand with the Biblical desire for us to find hope in all circumstances. As Christians, we are not to be stoics. We are to remember that we are all called, at times, to grieve. Sometimes, life is just plain hard. But Ben also reminded us that "our faith is not a designer drug that lifts us up out of the mess of life. Rather our faith gives us courage to live in the mess." And sometimes, I dare say, I make a bit of a mess for myself. And more often than not, I find the courage to live in that mess to be somewhat lacking.

So courage has been on my mind and on my heart recently. Sometimes, I have plenty of it. But there are times, more often than I'd like to admit, that courage is something I can't find, and something that I want. I want to, as Dr. Spencer would say to us in rhetoric "live boldly." I think those ideas are woven together for me. I'm rarely lacking for the hope part, but I'm still working on living and moving forward with courage, with boldness, and with gumption. But I've been reminded a lot these days of how beautiful it is when we do- when we move forward in faith, trusting and leaning into God's best plan for us.