Flame

The other day I was thinking about how when I was little, I treated Santa like he was God.
I didn't write Santa a list of the things I wanted...because I thought he must already know!
I would usually have some general idea in my head of what I wanted, but I thought that Santa must know me so well, that he would grant my every wish. I had such faith...that I believed he would give me gifts better than I could have dreamed up myself. So why write a list?
I'm sure my parents loved that. haha! Then their little girl, disappointed on Christmas Day without a new dollhouse and the wrong Mulan Barbie.
Cause the real Santa's were only human and people can't read your mind...and they let you down.

Now as an adult, thankfully, I have transferred this faith to the correct place...but still fail to actually verbalize what I want. God knows me better than I even know myself, and I believe he knows what will satisfy me...something greater than I could even dream of. Yet, like that blind beggar, He asks "what do you want?" Time alone has given me space to get to know myself better (as my Aunt Julie VM wisely told me recently)...and I'm starting to figure out how to answer his question more and more.

Christmastime.

A time of hope...and promise...and coming!

That song, I like Andrea Bocelli's version (and I can still hear my good friend David's imitation :)

"Who's coming? Who's coming?!"

 

But it's not Santa...it's the Christ Child.

And now...the hope of his return. I always forget that part. The second coming.

Come quickly Jesus...come back.

Pastor John's last sermon was about hope.

He said that when you are lonely you tend to lose hope more quickly.

You start reminiscing about what was good rather than what is good.

I've been realizing this. Seeing how my spiritual life has been crumbling and how I constantly think about the past or future instead of the present...

During Thanksgiving Break I saw Catching Fire in theaters with my brothers. 

After the movie we ate at Burger King and Dad sent us on a run to Wal-Mart to pick up blue Christmas lights for his magnificent tree. Andy drove and played his ipod on shuffle. A new song came on and he turned up the volume.

Kermit the Frog's voice came unexpectedly over the speakers, shock to my system

My brothers chuckled and jokingly sang along to it....but me? I bit my tongue hard and stared out the window. Tears welling...Andy and Adam would think I was being ridiculous if they knew...pull it together!

"The Rainbow Connection."

One of my songs. About wishes and dreams coming true and I've always clung tight to that stuff.

Just ask my mother. When I was little, my favorite thing to draw was rainbows! They were magical!

When I got older I discovered that, although there may not be a pot of gold...rainbows mean promise. 

God's promises...to come through for me. And I held tight to it.

But this time those doubts I've been denying flooded me, a couple unruly tears silently rolled down my cheeks and I hastened to pull it together. When Andy parked and turned to ask if we wanted to go in the store with him I tried to smile and say okay...but not before he saw my hand come up to sweep my cheeks clean. 

He half-jokingly asked "Did the rainbow connection get to you?" with a smile. I probably shocked him with my answer "...Yes!" and then couldn't hold the tears back any longer (gosh I cry a lot!). My two guys sprung into action: Andy's arm around me...Adam's face near my ear and hand on my shoulder. "What's wrong?!"

"I just...I just don't feel like wishes come true, not for me, not anymore..."

Andy: "Amy, wishes don't come true overnight. God knows what he's doing."

"Yeah...but I wish it didn't feel like hell during the waiting!"

Oh me of little faith. Hope in God.

Today, a weekend in the apt alone, I got Ann Voskamp's One Thousand Gifts back out.

I have two chapters left.

She wrote about the hard eucharisteo...giving thanks when you don't feel like it.

Thanksgiving is a verb, and not an easy action. Not something I do willingly most days.

But it precedes joy...what I've been yearning for all this time.

Ann: "Only self can kill joy."

Oh.

Shoot.

Guess I'm a murderer.

She used a visual that struck me hard...because it is a picture I recently drew on the board as an example for the 8th grade Egyptian project. Open hands holding a flame. Many of my students used the idea because they thought it looked cool.

Flame in open hands...joy flickering.

For joy, to receive the gifts God has for me, I have to be vulnerable and leave my hands open despite the winds that blow...because the oxygen will only fan the flame to burn brighter.

My tendency, though, is to try to protect that joy at all costs. So I clutch my fists...try to control circumstances...and end up with only darkness in my grip. When I focus so much on myself and frantically getting what I think I deserve, I am not vulnerable. I am selfish. And pride only snuffs out joy. If I really got what I deserve...well, I'm thankful for God's grace and mercy.

When I hold fists tight in fear...I am blind to the light.

I was thinking the other day about a lady that went through my checkout line, the short summer I was a cashier at WalMart. After scanning all her items I read her the total and she tried swiping her card. She complained how hard it was to read and swiped her card again. Looking closely at the screen, her nose wrinkled up as she squinted her eyes, she finally threw her hands up and asked if I could read the screen.

She was wearing sunglasses.

The screen was perfectly readable.

I wanted to laugh at how absurd she was, but didn't want to embarrass her.

Does she really not realize she still has her sunglasses on? haha!

Yet that's me. I know God must have gifts for me in the present, but it feels like I have dark lenses before my eyes made of my pride, anger, sadness, doubt....little hope. I cannot see them...I cannot find joy!

I must let go of myself...to receive joy. To see.

What do you want? To see.

I found this blog draft recently. I wrote it over the summer before school started and I never posted it:

"Here's the thing: art is creativity...and creativity is problem solving. For me a huge problem is learning to see Grace and Beauty in life situations that feel painful and just plain ugly. That's art. Art is learning to see...to REALLY see. 

And problem solving is decision making: spices to add to make it just right, the clothes we piece together to wear in the morning, smiling at a neighbor rather than brush them off, choosing to get out of bed in the morning and face the day, experiencing the richness of life. Art is choosing into Joy. Letting yourself laugh a little. Because Joy makes the world a little more Beautiful.

But more than that. We are made in the image of God. And God created...well...everything. He was faced with vast emptiness and "spoke" and it was. Wait what? Words...a mode of creation. The very utterances that escape our lips...Art. And the ultimate form..."PRAISE!" We were created to create...in the spitting-image of our Father. 

And What did Jesus do?

He spit in some dirt and made mud and healed this guys' eyes! Art.

He gave thanks and started passing out bread and it miraculously kept dishing out until 5 loaves had fed the thousands. Art

He washed His disciples feet. Art

Dying on the cross so we may have NEW life. Sacrifice...yes, even that, Art. Even through pain can come greater beauty and goodness.

God is Art. How Great Thou Art! 

See, I guess for me...I've gotten to the point were I can't really tell you one definition of Art because, just as God can be seen in all creation, so then is Art. Our creativity is inborn, we cannot shake it.

What will you choose to make of this life? That's art."

 I had forgotten even my own philosophy.

Last Wednesday I took my first day off. After all the little annoying headaches I'd been having, I woke with a migraine and finally called in sick. My first sick day. I spent the day reteaching myself what it means to rest and take care of myself.  All of this has been affecting me physically more than I like to say.

I crawled back into bed after writing up a sub plan and emailing it away...out of my hands and control.
Still...anxiety. Again...those things that are out of my control. I have a very hard time letting them go.
Yet I laid back in bed, head pounding, running through everything that could go wrong. Feeling like I was making excuses.... No, I need rest!
Then that reminder: Breathe.
I read it in Beautiful One over a year ago and my mom reminded me of it the other day. Inhale through the nose, filling the abdomen 5 seconds. Hold it 5 seconds. Exhale slowly. Repeat
That seemed to help.
Little did I realize, that when I get stressed out, I take shorter shallow breaths...my brain is getting less oxygen. Less oxygen, little flame. No joy.

Also: Water....and Food.
I thirst and have not been drinking near enough. Lately I've been trying to run this race on coffee and sugar...not good. Oh and did I mention I've lost all the weight I gained in all my years of college in the few months since I've been here...definitely not good. It seems like such a simple thing, but I think I've reasoned with myself over the past few months that I need to use my short lunch break (my only free time in the middle of the day) to keep working and prep for my afternoon.
Food. Water. Air. Jesus.
The essentials for life...and I've been neglecting them all.
I've had a lot of dreams lately of towers, castles, that are crumbling or toppling over...and I'm standing on the very top. Reading back to my "Where Feet May Fail" blog, when my theme was learning to let God be my rock and foundation, I realized how quickly I forgot! Because of my thirst for control I've been running the show instead of letting God be my firm foundation. No wonder I have felt so weak, so fragile!
But He...He should be my living water, bread of life, and the air I breathe....the oxygen to feed my joy flame.

"Only Self kills Joy."

I did this to me. And I need to relearn how to seek. It is a battle to search for joy.

To open my hands.

To really see.

If I open my hands, I'll be Catching Fire.