Flat Squirrels and Choices

This quote has been popping up all over my internet surfing in recent days.  It's a timely reminder, really, given my current situation in graduate school, and in life.  Every day I'm faced with decisions about what kind of models to write for analyzing my data, what kind of food to cook for dinner, when to do something to enrich my personal life vs. when to head back for a late night in the office, when to run off to another city vs. when to stay here in my town and work, whether or not to say that thing that's been on the tip of my tongue for months, whether or not to keep planning that walkabout across country, when to leave or when to stay, when to put down roots and when to close myself off from temporary places and people.

Ever since I was little I've been plagued with indecision.  Everyone who's ever been around me for long enough knows this to be true.  I agonize over every angle of a decision and it's outcome before coming to a conclusion, often to the chagrin of whoever asked me.  This includes everything from dinner plans to weekend plans to whether or not to buy that dress I love.

I imagine that everyone experiences indecision, particularly those with even the tiniest amount of self doubt.  I have a lot of that, especially when faced with choices that have unknown outcomes.  Who knows how far the ripples of this decision will go?  Who knows what will actually happen if I choose this option, or that option?

My mom calls it "fear of success," instead of "fear of failure."  She's right, I'm just as much afraid of it as the other.  What happens if we do this thing, and it is great?  Then what?  What do we do when we've accomplished that thing we've always dreamed of?  What happens if we accomplish it, then  we realize we're in over our heads?  The decision is already made, you're committed.  It makes me just as nervous as the potential of failing at whatever I decide to do.

***

I have to admit though, I don't exactly agree with the implied morality of this quote.  I don't know that it's advisable to go around being decisive without considering ramifications.  Sure, if after careful thought you make a decision you consider wise, and it turns out to be the worse of the two options...I understand that.  We all make mistakes.  But to say, "I'm going to do this regardless of the consequences," is a different story.  I've done that, and let me tell you, it can leave a swath of destruction in your path.  Perhaps that is part of what often paralyzes me prior to deciding upon a thing.  I've done the hasty decisions, the forgoing all consequences lifestyle, and I left a lot of damage behind, and within.  I can't, won't, do that again.  The hardest part of this kind of realization is that for me, it also comes with self doubt.  I've seen what my quick-decisions yield, and it's not the kind of person I want to be.  So...how can I trust myself to make the right decision, then?

While this is immediately applicable to personal lives, it is also present in work lives: I find it particularly present in graduate school.  Every day I make decisions about models, variables, scale, data formatting, literature to include in review, people to consult, edits, accuracy and power of analyses, and biological significance of all of it.  I often will decide upon a thing, consult 3 experts, and receive 3 different opinions from my own.  That make 4 options, all of which (well, 3, anyway) are sound and significant.  How do you pick?  I still hold to my hope that my Master's Thesis will be a document of which I am proud, a document that is useful and accurate, rather than a document that people will scoff and reanalyze for publication.  But...writing a perfect thesis means I'll be here forever, and no one--especially me--wants that.

***

So how, and when, do we compromise between a quick decision and the best decision?  Sometimes consulting experts, elders, more experienced individuals helps...sometimes it muddies the water.  Meditating on decisions helps, sometimes; sometimes it just keeps you in the holding pattern for longer.  Closing your eyes and throwing a dart works, sometimes.  Or you just end up stabbing yourself in the foot.

Sometimes, usually, a combination of all three works.  And a whole lot of prayer.  Sometimes, the right choice has a neon arrow pointing to it: we shouldn't be flat squirrels then.  But sometimes, it's a little fuzzier, our depth perception--like the squirrels'--is a little off, and we have less time than we think to dicker about which side of the road at which to jump.

Maybe one day decisions will come easier for me.  For now, though, by the grace of God, I'm grabbing my tail and narrowly avoiding life's tires...hopefully...for another day or two.

Forever Family

Aunt Mary Jane gives the best hugs.

You can ask anyone who knows her, family or not.  She gives you a big ol' squeeze that's long and heartfelt: one of those hugs where you immediately understand what it is to be truly loved, one of those you kind of wish you could pull out of your pocket anytime you need encouragement, one of those where you feel welcomed home, even if you're the one welcoming her into your house.

Good hugs are great, but great hugs can be life changing.  Every time I get the chance to see her, or any of the Ashley family, the reunion is full of hugs, kisses, and standing with our arms slung over each others' shoulders.  These are universal signs of acceptance, pride, protection, support, grace, and love.  Upon first observation, it might be assumed that we are just a touchy family: some people just are that way.  However, upon first-hand experience of the Ashley love, I'd bet money you'd change your mind about it being that simple.

***

We come from Quincy, FL, by way of Gadsden, AL and somewhere in Virginia.  Grandpa was one of 11 kids in Alabama, and Grandma was from a blended family--her step-sister we have always called Aunt Claire, and to all of us, she really is that.

Grandma and Grandpa raised 4 kids in Quincy, living in the same house for...ever...next to the Anderson's.  We shared meals with the Andersons often enough that I (and everyone who knew her) vividly remember Lulu's cookies and pound cake, and Mr. Anderson is kind of like a great uncle to me, even today, years after both Grandma and Grandpa are gone.

I'm the daughter of their youngest son, so my brother and I were always much younger than the rest of our 6 cousins.  However I can tell you that I always felt like an equal among my family, even though I was far smaller and younger than they.  We sat around the dinner table late into the night playing Cribbage: I on someone's lap, everyone else cracking jokes about terrible hands, amid shouts of "fifteen two, pair for four, ain't no more," and jovial threats of getting skunked.  As an adult, I've found a few friends who know this game, but none seem to have experienced the great joy we had playing as a family.  It's easy to turn Cribbage into a gambling, cutthroat game, but even Michelle, our star player, is the sweetest winner you'll ever meet; it's actually a joy to lose to her.

I could write pages on the memories I have of that house, this family, the experiences we had there: wallpapering the kitchen, playing in sun-catcher rainbows, building the backyard fence, playing tag, raking leaves to jump into them, eating muscadines out of the pool after throwing them at one another, collecting sweetgum balls for Grandma (and watching her actually put them into a vase and set them on the table), or hiding my stuffed animals for fear that Grandpa's threat of rabbit stew would come to fruition...but the undercurrent of all these is a fierce love for one another, a forever love for family born and family chosen.

Grandma and Grandpa weren't rich or powerful in the traditional senses, but you run into anyone in Quincy, even today, 18 years after he's gone, and they'll tell you how Grandpa always whistled when he delivered their mail, from where they knew him or Grandma, how he always helped the high school with homecoming floats, or what his nickname for them was.  Grandpa was famous for his nicknames...the good, the funny, and the loving.  

(Mine was Sweetpea, and to this day no one else calls me that.  If they did, there's a good chance I'd melt into a nostalgic puddle right in front of them.)  

I won't pretend that they were perfect: I've heard stories about the younger years.  But I can tell you that my and my cousins' memories of our grandparents were overwhelmingly beautiful.  I can tell you that if you ask anyone about them today, they are remembered as wonderful, giving, people.

They were both famous for their practical, kind, steady, servant-heart kind of love.

And I am so, SO grateful that this kind of love was not lost when we lost them.  It lives on in their children, grandchildren, and great grandchildren.  It lives on in our hearts and actions because they taught us how, and because we can honor them through serving and loving others.  It's an Ashley trait now, to welcome all and love people.  Yep, I have pride in my family.  But more than my feelings of pride are my feelings of gratefulness for being born into this, and humility to be called an Ashley next to these beautiful people who also share the name.  It's a blessing to be born into an family who's understanding of family is so broad it covers anyone we meet.  It's an honor, a privilege, and a gift to be part of a family who's collective mission is to love on one another and love on you with those fabulous hugs.  

***

But (my favorite word), it's not just because of the grandparents that we are this way.  It's because of what the grandparents, and we, believe.  Today, of all days, this resonates with me.  Today, we remember the Last Supper, but more importantly--for me, anyway--we acknowledge that Jesus was indeed a servant King.  He first gave us the example of what it means to humbly love others.  

He first.  We later, and poorly.  

It is astonishing to think that even my grandparents couldn't touch the servant love of Jesus, for even 18 years after the death of Grandpa, I still cry to think how much we loved him, and how much he loved...everyone.  What an honor that I have his likeness in my own father!  And what an honor that my own father has the likeness of Christ in him! 

Oh how wonderful to know that this gift is not reserved for the Ashleys, but for all who would see, and likewise humble themselves!

I am overcome.

***

"So, if there is any encouragement in Christ, any comfort from love, any participation in the Spirit, any affection and sympathy, complete my joy by being of the same mind, having the same love, being in full accord and of one mind.  Do nothing from selfish ambition or conceit, but in humility count others more significant than yourselves.  Let each of you look not only to his own interests, but also to the interests of others.  Have this mind among yourselves, which is yours in Christ Jesus, who, though he was in the form of God, did not count equality with God a thing to be grasped, but emptied himself, by taking the form of a servant, being born in the likeness of men.  And being found in human form, he humbled himself by becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross.  Therefore God has highly exalted him and bestowed on him the name that is above every name, so that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father.  

Therefore, my beloved, as you have always obeyed, so now, not only as in my presence but much more in my absence, work out your own salvation with fear and trembling, for it is God who works in you, both to will and to work for his good pleasure.  

Do all things without grumbling or disputing, that you may be blameless and innocent, children of God without blemish in the midst of a crooked and twisted generation, among whom you shine as lights in the world, holding fast to the word of life, so that in the day of Christ I may be proud that I did not run in vain or labor in vain.  Even if I am to be poured out as a drink offering upon the sacrificial offering of your faith, I am glad and rejoice with you all.  Likewise you should also be glad and rejoice with me." - Philippians 2:1-18.

The Valentine

Dear friends, let us love one another, for love comes from God. Everyone who loves has been born of God and knows God. Whoever does not love does not know God, because God is love. This is how God showed his love among us: He sent his one and only Son into the world that we might live through him. This is love: not that we loved God, but that he loved us and sent His Son as an atoning sacrifice for our sins.
Dear friends, since God so loved us, we also ought to love one another. No one has ever seen God; but if we love one another, God lives in us and his love is made complete in us.
We know that we live in him and he in us, because he has given us his Spirit. And we have seen and testify that the Father has sent his Son to be the Savior of the world. If anyone acknowledges that Jesus is the Son of God, God lives in him and he in God. And so we know and rely on the love God has for us.
God is love. Whoever lives in love lives in God, and God in him. In this way, love is made complete among us so that we will have confidence on the day of judgement, because in this world we are like him. There is no fear in love. But perfect love drives out fear, because fear has to do with punishment. The one who fears is not made perfect in love.
We love because he first loved us. If anyone says, "I love God," yet hates his brother, he is a liar. For anyone who did not love his brother, whom he has seen, cannot love God, whom he has not seen. And he has given us this command: Whoever loves God, must also love his brother. -1John 4

The whole world cries out.  Hear us: we need you. We love you. We long for a higher calling, a greater purpose, a perfect end.
The earth trembles with anticipation at each sunrise, each fresh breath of air.
People yearn for it. We look everywhere for it.
Look around. The earth is proof of your Valentine. The mountains, the valleys, they are here for you, for your heart. Look and see, his love is written in the stars, the sun, the moon. Open your eyes that you may see how great the Father's love for us.
On this day, the world celebrates love. Lord help me remember how I know true love. Lord you made it possible. You are love. And perfect love drives out fear. Oh Lord let me be your messenger of love and mercy, and let not my intentions stand between your message and the world.

Love Letter(s) to the World

Beloved,

There are times I wish that I didn't love so much.  There are times I wish it were easier to separate myself from the joy, hurt, heartbreak, fear, hope.  Yes, there are many times I am grumpy, unapproachable, and rude.  There are times when I do not want to interact with other humans, regardless of how joyous they are.  But mostly, I just love ya.  All o' ya.  

When I look at you, I see daughters, sons, cousins, parents, friends, aunts, godparents, godchildren, dog-moms and cat-dads, widows, and siblings.  

I see creators, thinkers, adventurers, teachers, artists, writers, singers, builders, and discoverers.  

I see no two alike.  

I see beauty in the blue eyes, the brown eyes, the green eyes, the grey eyes, and intelligence there, too.  

I see eyes that have seen nothing, for they are new.  I see faces that have seen much, for they are old--some in years, and some in life experiences.  There is beauty in both the hope in newness, and the careful skepticism in experience.  

There is beauty here, and there is much pain.  

I see the lines in faces of fights between friends or lovers, between parents and children.  I see lines in faces from a long weary road of hardships: suffering, trials, failures, and perseverance.  

I see clouded eyes from long days in the sun, or long hours of working for sustenance.  I see clear eyes, bright with the hopes of academia and a future full of promise.  

I see hands calloused from years of manual labor, speckled by the sun.  I see knobby, arthritic hands, that still strive to complete blankets, scarves, and hats for those in need.  I see baby soft hands, searching, learning, exploring the world which is still new and beautiful.

Every line in every face is beautiful.  Every line, every eye, every hand tells a story.  A story of who you are, where you've been, what you've done, how you've seen, what you know, and for what you still search.

Yes, a line is a symbol of a struggle, a trial, a pain.  But it is also a remembrance that you've come through it.  Some tattoo these remembrances on their bodies: a symbol of a past period of their life through which they've come.  But some trials are undeniably written on your body with an ink no laser will remove.  And it is beautiful, even if it is also painful.

It has taken me time to understand that paradox: beauty from pain.  I do not think one necessitates the other.  There is beauty in something brand new, that has not yet experienced failure.  There is also beauty in the face of someone who has lived through a great trial: a world war, persecution, starvation, illness, or broken relationships.  

I look at you, and I see myself.  I see things we struggle with together.  I see the things I will never understand, or that you will never understand in me.  

But most of all, I see hope.  Or more precisely, I see you through hope.  This is different than "rose-colored glasses."  I am frightfully aware of how much imperfection is in this world.  I choose to hope in spite of it.  It is because of this lens that I know there is beauty here: in pain, in trial, in success, and in ordinary life.  It is because of this lens that I have perseverance for tomorrow, despite how dark it looks out my window.  It is because of hope that I know, in my deepest heart, that it will be okay.  You.  We.  We will be okay.  And we are beautiful.

Love,

   Annaliese

. . . 

Beloved,

I would be remiss if I were to leave the letter above standing alone.

My hope in you, in us, does not stem from some whimsy, some ephemeral desire of things being better in the future.  No.  My hope is rooted, rather unshakably, in a bigger picture.  One in which there is Right, there is Perfection, and there is Hope that we can find it all.  

Why do I understand this to be true?  If I can quickly lay out my understandings, I will try:

  1. I believe in a perfect God, who is the epitome of good, love, justice.  Who is eternal, and all powerful.

  2.  I believe that #1 has allowed His character to be accurately portrayed in the Bible.

  3.  I believe the new testament's statement that the only way to perfection is through belief that Jesus has the power to wipe the record clean of my shortcomings.  

From this standpoint, I see a hope for the future.  I see hope for erasure of the pain in this world.  I see hope for an eventual understanding of why we all have lines on our faces and callouses on our hands.  From this standpoint, I see the pain as a sharpening, a refining process for myself--and I hope it is such for you.  

Am I not a wiser person for having experienced the cocktail of trials and successes in my life?  Are you not a more beautiful person for having triumphed through that decade of fear and self loathing?  Without a gauge, for me I cannot compare who I was prior, to who I am now.  

For me--and I recognize it is not so for all--I require this measuring stick.  For what am I hoping?  Something I have accomplished?  Something I have seen you accomplish?  No.  I hope for it all.  My eyes are open, I see the hurt and the mistakes--yes.  I have made them, Lord, I have made them--I see the world for what it is.  

But because of this lens, because of a hope for things not yet seen, I see beauty in it all.  For in everything, there is hope of achieving that for which you strive. (1) 

Because of this hope, I will never give up on loving you.  On telling you you're beautiful.  Ever.

Love,

   Annaliese

(1) Much of this is spurred by Romans 8, but that is not the only place in the Bible that speaks of this stuff.

Disagreement *Should* Not Presume Disdain

I consider myself to be a pretty calm individual.  It takes a lot to get me angry to the point of getting into a fight with another individual.  In fact, I can probably count on my hands the number of knock-down-drag-out fights I've had in my life.  However, that doesn't mean I have no opinions, or that my opinions shift to match whoever's opinions are being spoken.  No.  I have opinions, stances, and a belief system of what [I understand] is right and wrong.  I try not to shout it from the rooftops, expecting everyone to arrest their own thoughts so that they might hear mine, but I do have them.  I disagree with folks, more often than my fight-record would indicate.

But my disagreement doesn't presume disdain toward the other party.  Just because we don't understand a topic in the same way, or have drawn different conclusions, doesn't necessitate that the other is stupid.  It shouldn't necessitate to the other person that I am stupid.  (This, of course, assumes that both opinions are backed by something other than "because I said so.")  It merely is an indication that our thought patterns, belief systems, or interpretations of a thing are different.  It does not require that we immediately hate one another, or hold each other at arm's-length after this realization.  In fact, in my mind, your relationship with that person becomes more valuable: differing opinions or understandings to your own can create an opportunity for all sorts of conversation!  Aristotle purportedly said, "It is the mark of an educated mind to be able to entertain a thought without accepting it."  After a little digging, maybe he didn't say exactly that...but for my purposes, this serves.  The premise is still fine: discussion is possible without hatred or judgement, without a conclusion of one mind being altered forever.  Disagreement is possible without disdain.

How?  Why is it so polarizing to make your opinions known?  Make a comment on Facebook, only to be quickly defriended by someone who disagrees with you?  I've done it, I've also probably been defriended because if this, too.  There are a bunch of trite quotes I could include about what opinions are like, but you know them, and they are overused...so, consider them said.  However, some of my favorite conversations with people have arisen from fundamental disagreement on how a thing works.  What makes these conversations different than the inflammatory "conversations" that riddle social media today?

For starters, respect is present on both sides.  Long ago, I made a decision to (try to) respect everyone with whom I came in contact.  They are people like I am a person, their lives aren't any less important than mine.  I believe this includes everyone: those who are my superiors, those who are my peers, those who I disagree with, and those I don't understand.  By the same token, I would hope I conduct myself in a manner worthy of respect from others.

At any rate, respect is essential to having a discussion without a blow-up.  So is patience.  If you are too busy waiting to shoot someone down that you don't actually take the time to listen to the words coming out of their mouth...how do you expect them to give any more weight to your words than you do to theirs?  Makes sense to me.  Be patient, let them finish their sentence (or paragraph) before you jump in with a rebuttal.  Take a second to think about what they say after they say it, before thoughtfully responding.  To me, this comes easily.  I thank my parents for that: they raised me to always listen to what they were saying, or what my little brother was saying, before responding.  It's annoying when you're six, as everything you have to say is THE MOST IMPORTANT THING EVER, but that lesson stuck...a lesson for which I am exceedingly grateful, now.

And, the greatest of all: love.  If I speak in the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I am a noisy gong or clanging cymbal.  

If I walk into a conversation hating the person...what will I gain?  Proud indignation when they do not to agree with me?  Alienation of a person with differing thought?  Loss of that person's respect?  None of these things are things I desire, or aim for...ever.  Nothing positive is accomplished with these outcomes: not in my mind, anyway.  I'm not saying that you should automatically assume the other person is right, and I'm not saying you always assume that you're right: I'm simply offering the possibility that two individuals with differing opinions can walk away from a discussion on controversial topics still liking one another.

So what, Annaliese, why the self-help blog?

It did turn out that way, didn't it?  I could say that I didn't mean it to, but I'm not surprised.  These are things I've found to be useful when talking with people, I figured it couldn't hurt to share.

But what got me thinking about it?

The current sociopolitical climate is tricky to weather (pun intended...haw haw).  Tides are shifting from recent historical times: inclusion and acceptance are proclaimed much more fully here than they have been in the past.  Inclusion is awesome!  Acknowledgement of different types of people is cool!  There's a great line in Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves about that: "Allah loves wondrous variety."  People are different, period, end of story.  They look different, sound different, act different, and think different.

---I don't want to get into particular topics here, as I recognize that I have conservative, white, Christian privileges, and I'm not sure how much I want to bet on successfully maneuvering around them: failing success, I run the risk of losing some audience for this point.  (Sidenote: hopefully you'd respect/recognize my intent, regardless of success or failure in that...but that's an entire tome of topics, not for now.)---

My concern has, and always been, that in an attempt to include something previously excluded, that something previously included gets ostracized.  Please let me be clear here: this doesn't always happen, nor will it always continue to (sometimes) happen.  I have seen cases come out both ways, regarding a number of topics.  That's right, I read inflammatory comment sections and wall post threads: I want to know what makes people tick...or get ticked off.  What is it that a person finds so intolerable that he cannot abide to be facebook friends with someone who's opinions differ?  What is it that she finds so angering that she cannot follow someone's posts, or that he chooses to lecture an unknown individual on the internet?  Personally, it's hard for me to find something that elicits that reaction.  Probably because I hate to hate people.  It's hard, takes a lot of work, and it's draining.  Life is hard enough when you are trying to love everyone...I can't imagine life trying to hate some people and love other people.  It's confusing, and it's scary: do they hate me?  What about this person?  Is he going to hate me if I share my opinion?  Is she going to stop coming to my office if I speak my mind?

I can't hate.  I won't.  It's not worth it.  Besides, I very strongly agree with this:

Beloved, let us love one another, for love is from God, and whoever loves has been born of God and knows God.  Anyone who does not love dos not know God, because God is love.  In this the love of God was made manifest among us, that God sent his only Son into the world, so that we might live through him.  In this is love, not that we have loved God but that he loved us and sent his son to be the propitiation for our sins.  Beloved, if God so loved us, we also ought to love one another.  No one has ever seen God; if we love one another, God abides in us and his love is perfected in us...  
There is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out fear.  For fear has to do with punishment, and whoever fears has not been perfected in love.  We love because he first loved us.  If anyone says, "I love God," and hates his brother, he is a liar; for he who does not love his brother whom he has seen cannot love God whom he has not seen.  And this commandment we have from him: whoever loves God must also love his brother."  

Lays it out pretty simply (well, minus the repetitive words):  love each other.

It doesn't say: "love people who look like you," or "love people who sound like you," or "love people who vote for the same presidential candidate as you," or "love people who only like their grits the same way you do," or "love people who speak the same dialect as you," or "love people who 100% always agree with your opinions."

It says "love one another."

Please, let me love you.  I'm not asking you to love me back.  I'm just asking that you let me love you for who you are, because that is who I am.  And I'm not changing that because you think I'm crazy.

Prepare Ye the Way of the Lord

I've always been fascinated by the character John the Baptist.  He's the crazy dude at the beginning of Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John that ate bugs and honey and ran around in camelskin clothes.  He was born about 6 months before Jesus was born, by one of Jesus's parent's cousins.

In all 4 accounts, he is mentioned right at the beginning as the "voice of one crying out in the wilderness, 'Make straight the way of the Lord,'" a quote from the book of the prophet Isaiah.  He is the man sent to warn people of the coming of Jesus, his Messiah.

"Prepare the way of the Lord."

This command is very heavy in my thoughts during this time of the year...every year.

The Western Church celebrates this time of year as a season of Advent:  meaning a season of preparation and expectant waiting for the [memorial of the] birth of Jesus.  It is a celebration of the beginning of Jesus's journey...and thus, the beginning of ours [Christians'].  According to the church calendar, Advent began last Sunday, on the 29th, with the first candle lit on the advent wreath: hope.  Typically, bits of Scripture regarding the bloodline of Jesus are read during the lighting.  Because of this tradition, I do not allow myself to be actively grouchy about the excitement of Christmas once Advent has begun.

Well...not aloud, anyway.

I've gone to craft stores twice this week to find candles for an advent wreath in my home, and other simple decorations (a plain pine garland?  Impossible to find without glitter and fake cranberries and snow).  Both times, I nearly got into multiple wrecks, I had to maneuver around crazy parking jobs, and I had to fight crowds to get in the door and down the appropriate aisles.
Once I reached my destination, in both Hobby Lobby and Michael's, I was accosted with pop covers of already pop-y Christmas songs, people disagreeing over ornamentation, empty shelves, disheveled half-full shelves, flashy figurines and santas, reindeer lists painted craftily on canvas, and SO MUCH GLITTER.  So much.  I didn't speak to anyone--not that I'm normally in the habit of speaking to strangers in craft stores--and yet I still found it hard to maintain a neutral facial expression.

It doesn't matter what aspect of Christmas we talk about, I can usually find something about which to be disdainful:
It's about giving!  Do you ever give without expecting anything, not even thanks, in return?
It's about family!  Ever had a Christmas family gathering without failed expectations?
It's about the decorations!  Glitter. 'Nuff said.
It's about Jesus's birth!  He was probably born earlier.  Also most of our decorations are things we took from the Pagan celebration of the winter solstice/birthday of the unconquered sun.

This does not make for pleasant, kind, graceful, uplifting conversations with...well...anyone.  So I do my best to keep it to myself.

Why then, share it here on the interwebs, for everyone to see the ugly internal dialogue I have with myself every December?
Because I hate it.  I hate that there is this much hatred within my heart for a season that brings people back to what is important to them.  I hate that I am the downer at the dinner table that spreads vitriol instead of good cheer.  I hate that my face does not reflect love and mercy when I see someone clutching handfuls of sparkling ornamentation for her home.  The rest of the world literally is on their best behavior during this season (we'll ignore the US shootings for now...subject for another time), why am I on my worst?

I need an attitude adjustment.

"Prepare the way of the Lord."

The intent of Advent is to prepare yourself, your home, your life, and your heart for the (symbolic) reception of the gift that is the birth of Jesus.  There is much preparation occurring all over Athens...as is evidenced by the forever-empty shelves in stores across town, and the forever-clogged streets.  We prepare for the coming of family, the exchange of gifts, the (hopefully) colder weather, the end of the year, the end of the year sales, the huge amounts of food we'll cook and consume...the list goes on.

Everywhere I turn I am bombarded by loud, gaudy, and commercialized gifts, sales, songs, stores, buildings, and parties.  All of those things are already against my natural inclinations...no matter what month it is.  All of those things are exponentially compounded in the month of December.  All of those things appear to me to be focused on a show that is a product of Christmas becoming a business.  The fact that any holiday can be so cheapened by--paradoxically--pouring millions of dollars into it repulses me.  The fact that our culture as a whole spends so much time with the outward signs that shout "hey look at us preparing for Christmas!" breaks my heart, because it shouldn't be about your outside.  It should be about your inside.

Jesus made it pretty clear in Matthew 6 that we are supposed to give, pray, and fast quietly so that it is a secret, not shout it from the roof or trumpet it in the streets.  Obviously, he wasn't talking about Christmas, because he wasn't quite that meta, but I would pose that his stance would be the same on this: he was pretty consistent.  This time of preparation should be about your own heart, and the hearts of those you love.  John the Baptist, that crazy, homeless, bug eating hippie, asks the most poignant question for this time of year...and for any time of year: are you ready?  Are you ready to receive the only gift perfect you'll ever receive?  Here I am, a voice crying out in the wilderness: Prepare the way of the Lord, make his path straight.

Are you ready?  Am I ready?  Based on my grinchy attitude, I'd say "no, not yet."  So, I'm going to continue to sit in my decoration-less closet until I am.