"A man may make a Remark- In itself- a quiet thing That may furnish the Fuse unto a Spark In dormant nature- lain- Let us divide- with skill- Let us discourse- with care- Powder exists in Charcoal- Before it exists in Fire-" - Emily Dickinson
Burn out. A word most of current culture relates to. Yet, we do not understand that our Gingerbread houses are spun out of what we also help create. Perhaps the initial ingredients are out of our hands, but the way we flourish our proverbial homes? We have some sway over the sugar and spice. Why would we choose to coat our doors in sticky ketchup (news outlets/ social media)? Why would we want our doors so stuck with information that we can barely open them up on our own? The home we make can become crumbled bits and pieces, when we try so hard to open the door we partially sealed with our own choices. We shake our own core. It can be tough to taste tantalizing sweet sugar underneath layers of tomato paste.
Let us discourse with care.
Evergreen. A word that expresses everlasting hope. A word that can sing beloved Christmas tunes or evoke the sparkling wonder that children are best at expressing."Welcome home," says the body that is nourished and grounded in BEING. The hand on the door, opening to a place of belonging and safety. The squished give of the mattress as it envelops at night. The light of a lamp reflecting the caring of friends, as the knots of isolation slowly become untied. The wreaths symbolizing the spiral of life. The cliches that bring us joy. The tiny, obscure miracles we forget to see, because we are too caught up in our cerebral worlds to honour the tangible Given. Yet, the breaks from ourselves are there, waiting to soothe our unbelief in the Beauty that IS, patiently waiting to give a little cheer with the words, "Welcome home."
Story. What binds us and breaks us. What heals or destroys. The words we choose can bring hope or disaster. The story we tell, no matter how dark or bright, is OURS to give. The calm inside our chaos is a promise of All that Is. "Sharing all our stories of our failures and our glories, even when our hopes got torn, We made it through the storm. And I couldn't ask for more. When I'm down, and I'm lost and I'm tired- When it feels like the whole world is on fire...Even when I feel like a mess, have to take a good look inside me Yes, In the hurts where I find the Holy I guess, I'll never be perfect but I try my best, to remember I'm blessed."- Kelly Clarkson
Charts. Can something so clinical be a balm? How does one reframe a moment? In emotion? In intellect? In spirit? In Body? One piece neglected takes from the whole. Can you smell joy? Can you feel a word? Can spirit be rooted? Can a body connect to other realms? Can we meet in the middle? ... A room that had housed a familiar mentor was now the territory of a complete stranger. Like clockwork, almost every month, for 16 years I had met a different set of eyes. Next to the seat was an emotions chart.* Inwardly I cringed. I dismissively thought, "Of course, he knows I have Aspergers Syndrome and gave me a feelings chart. Standard textbook." But I looked into his hope filled eyes that wished to help me, and I softened. I tried to be open. It wasn't his fault his eyes were new. As the session proceeded, that chart surprised, claimed, named and comforted. Feelings need direct expression without being in the driver's seat. They are the passengers of our voyages and as such need to be treated with care but not full control. Words are just words without intent or tone. But what if the tone is not the intent? It can get messy. Words are magic and pain. Language is our greatest weapon and healer. "I wrestled. But it wasn't with God; it was with the ideas that obscured him." Sarah Clarkson.
Sad: "Fatigued/ Tired. Miserable. Despair. heartbroken. Devastated. Discouraged, Disappointed. Hopeless. Pain and Hurt. Depressed. Grief and Sorrow. Unhappy." Joyful: "Delighted. Glad- Pleased. Elated. Thrilled. Enthusiastic. Passionate. Appreciation. Thankful. Grateful. Excited. Ecstatic. Happy." Gratitude partially counters sadness, but it is possible to hold both. BOTH/ AND "Do I contradict myself? Very well, I contradict myself. I am large. I contain multitudes."- Walt Whitman.
Snowfall. Flakes can be fluffy, gentle and comforting or a blizzard, sharp and dangerous. The Sparkling white magnifies other colours. Sometimes it blinds. Can you feel a memory? Can loss be amplified by surrounding rushes of joy? The fresh start of a blank canvas or the bleak ending of a previous season? Both/ And? Dancing with ghosts; a gift or a curse? Both/ And? The bough of the branch, heavy with snow, has it's own sort of knowing.
Rooted. Spirit working in the body. Nourishment below the surface. The re making power of love. There are no empty promises here. Roots are the friends of wounded hearts. We become so much muchier when we can rise rooted. Stumble into the light of Grace. Close your eyes and feel the ground beneath your feet, your foundation of Being is here.
Wounded Healer. "We are not created for disaster nor formed for destruction, and to lament our pain is to honour the beauty God intended and yearn toward it's restoration....The point of our struggle is not to gain some sort of spiritual grit or prove our endurance. We are not asked to become grim warriors in the face of pain; We are asked to be children who will not rest until they know themselves cradled in the arms of a father who begot them for joy...toward hope...onward..."- Sarah Clarkson. The impacting, insightful leaders know that to be a healer, one has to first know what wounds feel like. Grief comes to us all. Each of us has different gifts to give, different ways to interpret, different faith stances, different stories. But we CAN become wounded healers in the smaller sense of the words. "We would rather God be neatly culpable for the evil that comes upon us, would rather believe that cancer and infant death and abuse and tornadoes are explainable as necessary to the overarching story of the world, than face the kind of ancient, true drama in which God himself weeps at the sight of what he has made, now defiled and destroyed. We are afraid to sit in the wild presence of sorrow, allowing it to whisper to us..."- Sarah Clarkson. Perhaps sorrow is like the candy hearts on a Gingerbread home? Melted little red streaks on the pristine white snow. Grief should not be explained away or a segue into dissertations of hell. Grief is a broken state when God weeps too.
Grace. "When strivings Cease." Because we will never, even the best of us, feel like we are enough. Someone will be better. Someone will have more. Someone will outlast and outlive. You may feel broken, but that is not all that IS you. Think of the lovely practice of filling broken tea cups with gold. The teacup doesn't fill itself. But it is a vessel for the golden glue to set. Isn't that a relief? With that knowing we can rest a bit...
Tis' The Season. Maybe it's Solstice or Eid or Hanukkah or Christmas or a Stat or just another day... December / January holds many holidays. "Happy Solstice" and "Merry Christmas" and "Happy Holidays" are words that I still can not help but pass onward. I give those I love enough credit to be able to translate the sentiment, even if they do not celebrate that particular holiday. I love the Community episodes remarking on the complexities and ridiculousness of all this. Yes, we want to give others a listening ear and respect, but we can also love what we love and be what we are. In that we become full enough to learn to hear what others love and whom they are. It's pure beauty- hearing different variations of holiday goodwill.
Cheers to Christmas tunes and the feelings of childhood they evoke. Music can transcend. "Come December I confess. I want the tree full of toys and tinsel....I want the elves in the yard, each sentimental card dripping glitter on the floor, I want a roof full of plywood reindeer and a road full of horse drawn sleighs. All those Christmas cliches... I want the gulp and the tear the moment that I hear Andy Williams being played...Not to mention the snow, not to mention the choir. Not to mention the candles in the window and chestnuts roasting on a fire...along a street bathed in twinkling white..as for the songs you hear over and over, I hope you look this one up when it plays, all those Christmas cliches."- Darren Criss
May your Gingerbread homes reflect not only whom you want to be, but whom you already are. May you make the changes you can and apply Grace to the rest. May you find peppermint bliss and spun clouds of respite amongst any grief you may carry. But most of all, may you know, you are worthy because you exist.
Happy Holidays.
P.S. Song Choice: Normally I don't upload private family videos on my blog but I thought my readers may enjoy a clip of our Gingerbread ridiculousness. Sometimes we send out cheesy home made videos to our friends and family. Recently we had two hours to use- thus we gathered some thrown together outfits and did a quick frolic through the song Sweet Gingerbread Man by Sammy Davis Jr. which was on the last Hawkeye episode (excellent Tv series thus far!) We were purposefully ridiculous as usual and we hope it brings you a smile…what do you think…does my husband look like David Hasselhoff with bronzer?? (His words NOT mine!) It was our only way to make a sweet gingerbread man with his halloween monk suit - ha ha. I uploaded the first minute of the video (with a few tweaks to those who already saw it.) I could not upload the full video here (I know you want more.) but the little morsel is enough to get the lyrics" All tasty and tan sweet gingerbread man" into your head. I dare you not to hum that one incessantly...just hopefully it doesn't beget the image of my husband in tights...You're welcome. Ha. Anyway, Enjoy the cheese! Happy Holidays and Merry Christmas to you. May you find some sweet moments of joy and wonder where it is possible...
*The feelings chart:
