Celebrating Palm Sunday At Home

The hardest part of self-isolating during this strange time of our lives is that it is encroaching on the holiest of weeks. I can’t tell you how many times over the last week I’ve wanted to just cancel Holy Week and pretend it will happen later in the year. I miss my church. I miss singing with the organ. I miss sitting in the Sanctuary and simply feeling the presence of God.

My church, like many others, has been live-streaming worship on Sunday mornings, but it doesn’t really feel like worship when I sit on my couch and watch a screen. There’s no standing and sitting as one big group of people. There are no pews to sit in (or crawl under if you’re my youngest daughter). There are no hugs. There’s no sitting around tables talking about your week as your kids go back for more and more cookies and cupcakes. I’ve found that the addition of technology to church has been more of a damper on this time of stay-at-home than it has been uplifting, so we’ve just been pretending that we’re choosing to miss church these last few weeks.

But ya’ll … this Sunday is Palm Sunday. The Sunday where we remember Jesus’ triumphant entry to Jerusalem and begin our remembrance of his last days. I can’t just pretend to not go to Palm Sunday worship. I’m not sure I’ve ever, in my entire life, missed worship during Holy Week. The last thing I really want to do is create my own Palm Sunday celebration - but if my only choices are to pretend it’s not happening or make a meaningful celebration at home, I’ll chose the latter.

If you - like me - are finding yourself in this place of mourning and sadness, I encourage you to take a few steps to make your Palm Sunday a meaningful one. I thought I’d share with you the things we’re going to do together as a family. I’m keeping it simple, because the last thing I need is anxiety over making meaningful experiences. Remember - the most meaningful part of the day will be the connections and the memories that you make.

Wear Purple! 

Purple is the color of royalty and power. One of the most profound parts of Palm Sunday is the realization that Jesus - the King - rides into town on a donkey. It’s the story of a royal parade - so dress for the occasion!

Start with a Parade!

Remember Jesus’ procession with your own parade around your house or neighborhood. If you don’t have palms, collect pine boughs from your backyard. Or make paper palms - there’s a great tutorial here and a cool printable here.

There are several songs you can use for this procession - one of my favorites is “Prepare Ye the Way of the Lord.”  True story - I had no idea until today that this song was in Godspell. We used to sing it at church camp and it’s always one of my favorite Call to Worship songs. Thanks to my good friend DHawk for pointing out the connection. Another option that we often use in church is All Glory Laud and Honor.

Read the Bible Together

After you’ve had your parade, sit down and read aloud the story of Jesus’ procession into Jerusalem. We’ll be reading the account from Matthew, because it’s what our church will be using. You can find it in Matthew 21:1-11. After you’ve read the story together, talk about what it may have felt like to be there, on the streets of Jerusalem, as Jesus passed you by. What parts of the passage stuck out to you as you heard it? Did you notice something new?

When you feel like your discussion is complete, say a prayer together, thanking God for the words. Pray for people and situations on your heart, and just allow each other a brief moment of silence and reflection.

Create Something Together

Being creative is one of the best ways to make powerful memories together - and is one way that you can make your Palm Sunday extra special in the absence of a regular worship service.

If you were able to get palms, consider turning them into palm crosses to hang up around your house. You could hang them in your windows, or on a mantel, or you can save them and use them on your Holy Week altar (more about that coming soon!)

Or, maybe you want to do a simple painting of palms to hang on your wall, or in your window, or on your family altar. You can use this same tutorial to draw palms with sidewalk chalk on your driveway or neighborhood sidewalks (but remember to stay away from other people!)

If you’re feeling really crafty and have lots of arts supplies, consider making a hosanna banner. Cut out a piece of white fabric - or you can use a big piece of white paper. Use craft paint or felt letters to put the word “hosanna” on your fabric or paper. Then hang it on your front door for the whole neighborhood to see!

Whatever you choose to do, you will always look back and remember “that time when the churches were closed and we had to remember our faith at home.” My prayer for you this weekend is that you find a way to make those memories powerful ones. May God bless you and sustain you in your journey this week.

Photo by Grant Whitty on Unsplash.

On Giving Thanks in a Time Such As This

Yesterday I granted myself - and you - permission to grieve. Permission to feel anger and sadness. Permission to wonder all the terrible wonders that are rolling around in your head. Permission to admit that this is not normal. This is not our new normal. Don’t think of it like that … and ignore those people who do. Life will change after this, but I’m confident that the changes are going to be for the better in the long run.

So today, I’m turning the coin. I am - in true Pollyanna fashion - finding the good in the midst of this struggle. Because there’s always good. I’m looking at the ways in which our life might look different at the end of this - and giving thanks for the so many positives in my life.

I’m giving thanks for my husband’s job. A job where he can do all of his work remotely. A job that is secure and important and isn’t going anywhere in the midst of an economic downturn. A job where he is not on the frontlines. A job where he is allowed and encouraged to be safe, at home.

And because he’s not doing his usual commute, we have time every day to explore the hundreds of hiking trails around us. I’m giving so much thanks for the early Spring weather that has been gifted to us this year. Weather that’s allowing us to get outdoors and enjoy sunshine.

I’m celebrating the empty calendar. I made a list of all the things I’d do if I had no other obligations, and I’m crossing a few off each day. Yesterday I made homemade sourdough bread, preserved Meyer lemons, and Strawberry Lemon Marmalade. Today I have peach butter on the stove.

My heart is beyond full for my family - who taught me from a very early age how to store food during peak harvest seasons. My grandma and aunts taught me how to garden. My mom taught me how to can jams and jellies and peppers and salsa. I’ve been living this life of food preservation all my life - and now I know just how important it is.

I’m giving thanks for my local farms who provide good food for my family. CSAs who take such good care of us in peak harvest seasons that we have plenty of food in the freezer to get us through at least a month without buying much of anything at all. Farms who believe in the importance of serving their communities, operate year round, and are doing what they can to provide food for their people in the midst of this time of uncertainty.

I’m singing praises to God through virtual worship services and evening prayers and hymn sings in a way that I haven’t done in a really long time. I’m able to “attend” worship services at churches that are so near and dear to me - yet are hundreds of miles away - and it’s making my heart break right open into this mess of joy and sadness all at the same time. Isn’t that what faith is all about after all? Sadness for the world as it is, while at the same time this immense feeling of joy that God loves us and we belong to God. The many church communities that have sustained me throughout my almost-40-years of life are now sustaining me from afar.

I’m ever so thankful for a craft room full of yarn and sewing supplies. For a basement full of scrap wood and building tools. For an extended family who - although they are super far away - can walk me through just about any craft or building project I could ever want to attempt.

I continue to be amazed at how we ended up in this place we now call home and just how much it fills us up. We’re surrounded by woods and trails and it just feels like a safe haven in the middle of a storm. We can climb trees, explore nature, lay in the hammock, swing in the swing, plant a garden, or just bring a blanket and read a book outside. The vast space that belongs to us is not lost on me in this time of “staying at home.”

I’m grateful for the hard work I’ve done over the last two years in really understanding what a good homeschool life looks like for us. We have a library full of books right in our own home. We have puzzles and games and toys to spark creativity and imagination. We have an entire room of craft and art supplies. We have thousands of ideas that we’ve been too busy to work on, and now we actually have time to dig in to some of those things. I know that my kids are learning even when we aren’t doing “lessons” and I’m not afraid of days full of free play.

These are just a few of the things I’m giving thanks for today. The list goes on and on, and as I write this, my privilege is not lost on me. But just as yesterday was for feeling sad, today is for giving thanks. For filling up my cup with praise and thanksgiving so that I can look forward to how I can use these gifts that I’m given - this privilege that I’m living - to help those people around me that aren’t in the same place.

Tell me …. what are you giving thanks for today?

Photo by Rajiv Bajaj on Unsplash.

Where Were the Children? [A Good Friday Reflection]

This post was originally published on Good Friday in 2016. We attended a similar Maundy Thursday service last night, at a new congregation, and I was again struck by their incredible ability to really understand what was happening. They both left worship with questions and reflections about how much Jesus loved his friends. I’m republishing this as it was originally written, because it’s been in the archives for far too long, and because sometimes the original says it better than anything new I could come up with.

But why are they taking the candles away Mama? she asks, with tears in her eyes. I like the candles. Will they bring them back?

This is the first Maundy Thursday service we’ve been to in several years. The last one I can remember going to, we left early – because A was just a year old and staying out past 7pm just wasn’t in our cards. But this year, I didn’t care how late we were out … I didn’t want to miss it. I wanted to experience the remembrance of those last days. The last meal. The foot washing. The prayers in the garden. That last night with his friends, his disciples, his family.

I wanted my children to experience it. As difficult as it is to watch … as difficult as it is to understand … the majesty of Easter just isn’t as glorious without experiencing the loss. I wanted them to experience that loss …. so that when we walk in to Easter service and we see the flowers, the candles, the white paraments … when we hear the loud bells and trumpets sounding, it truly is majestic and glorious.

But man did it tear me up inside when my 20-month old asked to go up to have her feet washed. And man did it break my heart to watch my 4-year-old begin to comprehend what was going on.

We’ve dealt with a lot of loss in our family over the last 6 months. The loss of favorite toys that were too big to make the move with us. The loss of a house that was home. The loss of a neighborhood that was so very good to us, and will never be replaceable. The loss of a community of friends that we could call on at any time – whenever we needed them. The loss of two sweet kitties who still have a forever home in our hearts. The loss of a yard where we spent hours of our time – playing, planting, praying. The loss of a church that was far from perfect, but was still home. The loss of family being close by. This watching of the alter being stripped – it was just one more loss for her. For all of us.

And it got me thinking … where were all the children that night that Jesus was arrested and taken away? It was late in the evening, so I imagine they were safe at home with their parents – maybe eating dinner, maybe getting ready for bed, maybe already sleeping. What was it like for them when they awoke the next day and were told that Jesus – the man that welcomed them with open arms when the rest of society pushed them to the side – the man that they loved so dearly – was gone? How did their parents explain it to them? What did they say when the questions started rolling in?

My response went something like this:

They are taking them away so we remember what it was like the night Jesus died. People were sad. They were scared. It was dark and quiet and lonely. But when we come back for Easter service on Sunday, it will all be back.

Because as hard as it is for me to answer the questions, at least I know the loss isn’t forever. At least my response can include the hope that those things we love about worship – the candles, the paraments, the music, the flowers – they will be back. I can’t imagine Maundy Thursday and Good Friday without knowing Easter was coming. And the last several years – those years that I have experienced Easter without experiencing the loss of Maundy Thursday and Good Friday – Easter just didn’t have the same amount of majesty.

So today, on this Holy Good Friday, here’s a blessing for you – a blessing for all of us …

May you take the time to remember the loss, may you remember the quiet of those dark three days, and may you forever rest in the hope that Easter is coming.

how to make a local difference

This post was originally published at Bibledude.net in 2011. Although the Barna study and statitstics are old, I believe the information is incredibly relevant today. Now more than ever, we need our churches to be positive influences in their communities. I hope this post gives you an idea of how you can get started.

Last week, the Barna Group released a new report revealing that 75% of adults believe that churches have a positive effect on their local communities. This sounds like good news, right? So why is it that church membership is dwindling? It seems that people would want to take part in this positive influence of the community around them.

Here’s the thing … the next question asked was:

Many churches and faith leaders want to contribute positively to the common good of their community. What does your community need, if anything, that you feel churches could provide?

Many adults had no idea how churches could contribute – even though they had previously said the presence of a church was a positive addition to the community. Here were the other results:

• Addressing poverty 29%

• Teaching the Bible and giving spiritual direction 12%

• Serving youth, families, & the elderly 13%

• Cultivating biblical values 14%

• Assist those in recovery 10%

• Assist with financial or career education 7%

• Be inclusive and accepting 3%

• Be engaged politically 1%

What this report really reveals is that although people are not hostile toward churches, they really don’t see how the local church plays an active role in its community. This is particularly true when churches are located in an area with very little poverty.

But the gospel message is about transformation … that in Christ we are a new creation, full of hope and joy. We live full and abundant lives because of a greater purpose. So if the gospel message is about transforming lives, then shouldn’t our churches be transforming their local communities?

It seems there are a couple of things church leaders can learn from this report. Just what can we do to make sure our churches have a positive impact on their local communities?

Have a public face.
Show up at community events. All too often our church leaders do most of their work inside the church building with church members. They don’t see the need to attend the local parade, community fair, chamber of commerce, town meetings. Because the church has largely been absent from these community events, it’s difficult to understand how the church and community connect.

If the church is part of the community, then the church should be active in the community. Church leaders should be the human face of the church. When people think of the church, there should be people that come to mind.

Build relationships outside the church.
I think a lot of people in the community have misconceptions about the church. Although most people think the church is a positive thing, many don’t see the need to be personally committed to a church. There could be many reasons for this. Maybe they are too busy. Or maybe they aren’t sure the church has anything to offer them – after all, the church is there for the poor and the downtrodden, not the mainstream, right? Or maybe they’ve had a bad experience at a church – felt unwelcome, judged, kicked out.

Regardless of the reason, it’s unlikely that they have a real relationship with someone who is active in a church community. When we build relationships with people outside of the church, we begin to walk in their shoes – and they in ours. They begin to see how church has a positive effect on our lives – and maybe how it could have a positive effect in theirs.

Is your church active in the local community? How do the churches around you contribute positively?

Photo by Tom Skarbek-Wazynski on Unsplash.

the land of no birthdays

Happy birthday to you.
Happy birthday to you.
Happy birthday to you all ….
Happy birthday to you!

As we sang these familiar words, tears formed in the woman’s eyes.

But it’s not my birthday, she said.

I gently responded to her, That’s okay. Today we’re celebrating all of your birthdays!

She couldn’t remember the last time anyone wished her a happy birthday. She had forgotten what birthday cake tasted like. When we asked what her favorite birthday memory was, she couldn’t remember a good birthday. Ever. In her 46 years of life.

We ate cupcakes and played games. Shared stories and laughs. And as I walked away from the incredible celebration, I couldn’t help but realize how important our birthdays are.

Birthdays have always been big celebrations in my family. I don’t really know the reasons why my mom made such a big deal of birthdays, but I haven’t stopped the tradition as I’ve gotten older. When I hear someone has a birthday coming up, I’m the first one to ask what their plans are. What kind of cake are they going to have? Are they going to have a party? A special dinner? A celebration of any kind?

Affectionately known as The Birthday Girl, I know how to plan a birthday celebration. And no birthday is really a birthday without a cake. If you’re ever in my neck of the woods for your birthday and have no plans, just give me a call and we’ll celebrate your big day in style!

So what’s so important about a birthday anyway?

When we celebrate a person’s birthday, we celebrate the day they came into the world. For just a single day each year, the world really is all about me. It’s all about the incredible gift of life God has given us. On that day, we remember just how special we are. We remember how much people love us. How much God loves us.

Can you imagine not knowing what birthday cake tastes like?

Can you imagine not having one day where you feel like you are the most important person in the world?

I can’t.

Our simple act of recognizing the importance of birthdays changed a single woman’s life. She felt special. She felt loved. Maybe, for the first time in her life, she saw herself as a beloved child of God. As someone that mattered.

So remember your birthday. Remember the birthdays of those around you. And every once in a while, celebrate a random person’s birthday. Just because you can. You never know what kind of an impact it will make.

This post was originally published at Bibledude.net.

i walked away

I said my final goodbyes and began to walk out the door. As I walked through the double glass doors, tears rolled down my face. I wanted to collapse on the cement and never leave. But I pushed forward, vowing to never look back. To move on to the new life I was beginning and to put the past behind me.

As I started the engine and drove away, the tears came harder. It was much harder than I ever imagined it could be. It may have been the hardest thing I’ve ever done. You see, this place I was leaving … the place I was walking away away from … it had become my God place.

It was the place where my community lived. It was more than work. It was a way of life. It was a calling. And even though I was confident that in walking away I was answering a new call, I still felt a pain that was beyond imaginable. I guess freedom isn’t always easy.

That day was a dark one. A day full of anger and hurt. Tears and prayers. Unanswered questions.

What will my future look like? Will I be able to achieve my dreams? What if I just made a huge mistake?

But I did my best to trust and believe that Facebook status I had posted just months earlier:

Sometimes God calls us to the unknown … and doesn’t promise it will be easy, but does promise to be faithful.

I woke the next morning with tear-stained cheeks, vowing once again that I wouldn’t look back. The words to Matt Maher’s Hold Us Together were the first out of my mouth that morning when my sweet husband asked, “How are you?”

This is the first day of the rest of your life.
This is the first day of the rest of your life.
‘Cause even in the dark, you can still see the light.
It’s gonna be alright. It’s gonna be alright.

This became my theme song. The darkness got a little bit brighter. And I began to realize that I can’t leave the past behind me. The past is a part of me. It has made me who I am. I can’t walk away and never look back.

The old will never disappear. The relationships will still exist. They may look different, but they will be there. And it will be alright. God will remain faithful.

I will find a new God place. I will find a community of believers that I can thrive in. A community that will accept me for who I am and encourage me to celebrate God’s calling in my life.

But I will never forget that place or the people in that place. The place that made me who I am. The place that helped me believe in myself. The people that cheered me on and pushed me forward.

And I won’t forget how I felt the day I walked away.

This post was originally published at Bibledude.net. Photo by Mike Wilson on Unsplash.

Celebrating Candlemas

Today marks the midway point between the Winter Solstice and the Spring Equinox.  You guys ... that means we're halfway through Winter!!! When doing some lesson planning last week, I discovered that there's a real name for this celebratory day - Candlemas! It's mostly celebrated in Europe, but let me tell you ... I'm a huge fan and am determined to make it an annual celebration in this New England household. Although the end of Winter is misleading here in Massachusetts and we tend to have snow into the Spring, this day helps me remember that Summer WILL come - no matter how cold and snowy it might be today.

But there's an even more special thing about today ... it's the 40th day of Christmas. I know ... I know ... it's technically Epiphany and not Christmas anymore, but there's something significant about this 40 day mark. 40 days after Jesus was born, Mary & Joseph took him to the temple, where they met Simeon. Simeon had been promised that he would not die before he met the Lord's Messiah. He had waited his entire life for this day ... and upon the presentation of Jesus he knew without a doubt that this baby was the Messiah the world had been promised. 

Now, Lord you let your servant go in peace: your word has been fulfilled. My own eyes have seen the salvation which you have prepared in the sight of every people; a light to reveal you to the nations and the glory of your people Israel. ~Luke 2: 29-32

There's something so significant to me that we celebrate this Feast of Simeon right smack dab in the middle of Winter. Right when we are all waiting for the light to return. Right when we think we can't press on any further in these dark, cold days of winter ... we are reminded that the Light has come. That more light is on its way. That God has fulfilled ... and continues to fulfill ... his promises to us.

I mean ... how can we NOT celebrate a day like today?! When I discovered all these wonderful things about this 2nd day of February, I decided we'd make today a special day. Here's what we're up to today:

Morning Light - this is what I call our Morning Time together. This is the start of our homeschool day together and usually includes a reading from the Bible, singing our monthly hymn, talking about the weather, the calendar, and the season we are in, poetry readings, and usually a picture book of some kind. Today we lit candles all around us, learned about how people celebrate Candlemas in Europe, read the Presentation of Jesus at the Temple in Luke 2, watched a video of the Song of Simeon (which, by the way, gave me chills and brought tears to my eyes), talked about what we're waiting for (Me - Warmth! A - Gramma to come visit! E - someone to give us new kittens), and then I had them cozy up under blankets by the fire while I told them the fairy tale of the Snowdrop.

Art - We then moved to the kitchen counter, armed ourselves with paper and oil pastels, to create a piece of art that represented how we heard the story. I love doing this with the girls - especially with stories that have very few pictures - because it really encourages them to think about what they've read and be creative about what they imagine. After we finished our pictures and talked about what we drew, I showed them illustrations from a Kindle version of the story.

Crepes - One of the traditional ways people celebrate Candlemas is by eating crepes or pancakes - the round shape symbolizes the long days of sunshine that are up ahead; so we'll be including crepes in our dinner plan for the evening. We'll have breakfast for dinner with savory crepes full of eggs and bacon and sweet crepes full of jelly or Nutella. We love any excuse for crepes - and it's been a while since we've made them, so the girls are quite excited for tonight's dinner. And of course we'll eat by candlelight - because today is the day we celebrate light after all!!

Singing - For a week now I've had the Song of Simeon from my Lutheran youth days in my head but I've been unable to find music for it anywhere. Today a good friend came to my rescue and send me a picture of what I had been singing - and I'm so excited to share it with my girls tonight after dinner. I dearly miss good Lutheran liturgy, so I love being able to incorporate it into our family life as much as possible.

Nature Journal - Later this afternoon we'll grab our nature journals and add an entry about Snowdrops. They aren't sprouting here yet - it's still a little early for that - but it's fun to anticipate their arrival. We're hopeful that there are some in our yard ... and if not, they'll be the first bulbs we plant in the Fall!

Decorating Candles - I had great intentions to make candles today, but I never got my act together to buy wicks, so instead, we may decorate some tapered candles from Trader Joes that I have stashed in a drawer. Honestly - whether or not we get to this project is yet to be determined ... it just depends on how well my girls can get along the rest of the day. At the moment, things aren't looking so promising ;-)

Planning Seeds - This is more my activity than one that I'll share with anyone else - but hey, every Mom needs some self-care, right?! It's the time of year when we start to plant seeds for our Spring and Summer garden. Although our garden will be very small this year, as our yard is mostly shade, I do want a few plants to tend and nurture throughout the harvest months. I pulled my box of seeds out and can't wait to buy some potting soil this weekend and get our little babies under the grow lights.

It's such a joyful day ... Spring is on it's way! We've made it halfway through Winter! The days are getting longer! The light is drawing near! Before we know it we'll be playing on the beach all day! And until then, we'll remember the story of the Snowdrop. And find strength to hope for the summer we know will arrive.

It was bitingly cold, and the days that followed didn't bring a sunbeam. It was weather to freeze such a delicate little flower to bits. But there was more strength in it than even it realized. That strength was in its happy faith that summer must come, and this had been imparted by its own deep desire and confirmed by the warm sunlight. And so with patient hope it stood there in its white dress, in the white snow, bowing its head when the snowflakes fell thick and heavy or while the icy winds swept over it.

Thoughts on Christmas Eve

When we got on that plane in Atlanta just over two years ago, I had no idea how much our life would change. I can remember a late night conversation with D that went something a little like this ...

We've struggled for so long - even in this neighborhood that we love so dearly - at finding the kind of community we really want. If we can find community there ... if we can find a church there that really fills us up ... one that really challenges us ... one that helps us go deep. We can make life there work.

I dare say that two years and four moves later, we've finally found it. It wasn't until we find our little neighborhood in Beverly, and our church in Salem, that we became really confident that this move - away from everything and everyone we've ever known - wasn't just one big disaster.

It's not perfect - no church is - but we finally found a place that helps merge our love for tradition and liturgy with our love for creative worship. A place that challenges us to go deep in our faith, and to put that faith into action. A place that instantly connected us with other people, who have very quickly become the exact kind of community we've been searching for. We may have only been there for a couple of months, but we have already become deeply committed. It is so so good to find a place that feels like home.

So you can imagine I was quite excited when an all-church meeting was announced for mid-November. I couldn't wait to hear about what was coming up in the next few months. A thousand questions crossed my mind ... 

Will they celebrate Advent? Or will they jump right in to celebrating Christmas?

Will there be mid-week services?

Will there be a candlelight service? What will Christmas Eve look like?

Will there be a Christmas Pageant?

And as the Pastor told us how we would have a very short Christmas Eve service in the middle of the afternoon, and then we would be invited to go out into the community to bring worship to other places, I found tears streaming down my face.

I was heart-broken. I was angry. I was terrified.

As I got in the car, I turned to D and said - through tears - I have to give up Christmas Eve this year. And I don't want to. Why is it that God always calls me to do something I don't want to do?!

His reply revealed just how much he knows me ... I couldn't help but think of you as he talked about Christmas Eve. I thought, Well This isn't going to go over well. I wonder what we'll decide to do."

I grew up in a very traditional, very liturgical church. We went to church every single Sunday, where worship was the same week after week. My favorite services as a child were the big ones. They called them "Festival services." There were trumpets, a loud organ, a procession ... have you ever watched the Vatican Christmas Eve mass on TV? It was kind of like that. And I LOVED it.

Christmas Eve was my favorite worship service of all. I have incredible memories holding a burning candle as the lights were dimmed while everyone around me sang Silent Night. It sounded like what I think an angel choir might. And I remember a very similar Christmas Eve service, when my oldest was 2. She held her candle so tight, and sang the words she knew so loudly, that it brought tears to my eyes.

And now ... now I was being asked to do something very different. There would be no candlelight service with Communion and all of my favorite songs. Instead we were going to bring worship to people who we had never met before.

I was heart-broken. I was angry. I was terrified.

But not once did I ever think we’d skip that part of Christmas Eve worship. Because I heard God loud and clear in the words that the pastor spoke over and over again. Christmas is about the day God came to us. It only made sense that we would bring Jesus to the ones who might be lonely and forgotten on Christmas Day. And that they might bring Jesus to us.

So we signed up for the morning shift and were assigned to a group home for senior women. On Christmas Eve morning, my sweet A looked at me and said,

But Mama. I don’t want to go. I just want to go to church.

I sat down next to her and gave her a big hug, and I said,

You know what? I don’t really want to go either. I hate going to new places to meet new people. But how do you think we would feel if we couldn’t go to church? Especially on Christmas Eve?

I’d be sad Mama.

Me too. And how would you feel if someone said they would bring church to you?

I think I’d be excited to have church at my home.

Me too. So today, that’s what we’re going to do. We’re going to bring church to people who haven’t been able to go to church in a really long time. Because sometimes God calls us to do hard things.

I’m not really sure if I was talking to her or if God was using my words to her to speak to me … but in that moment, I caught a glimpse of what the Kingdom of God is all about.

And as we walked in to the home that morning, I think we were all a little terrified. No one really knew where to go, or what to do. But we finally got settled in, around tables with some of the residents, and as I saw my husband begin to play guitar, and my girls begin to sing, I was overcome with a wave of emotion. As I talked to the women at my table, I began to understand why going out of my comfort zone was so important for me this year. I needed to see Jesus. I needed to experience him in a very different way.

That night, at our Christmas Eve feast of potato soup and bread, we did a little debrief of the day. A said, I was brave today. And I had to agree.

You were so brave today Autumn. Are you glad we went?

Yes Mama. Those ladies were so happy to see us!

Christmas Eve was different for me this year. It was calmer. Quieter. More still. I missed my family - I missed the bigness that used to surround Christmas Eve. Both at Church and at home.

But this year we began a new tradition - that of showing our children what Christmas really means. This year we remembered that Christmas isn’t really about the fanfare or pizazz. This year, we experienced firsthand how God didn’t wait for us to come find Him, but instead - he came to us.

Maybe my kids won’t grow up with memories of trumpets or candlelight services on Christmas Eve. But they will grow up with memories of doing hard things because Christ did hard things for us. They will grow up with memories of visiting the ones who are often forgotten and neglected on the most special days of the year. They will grow up seeing glimpses of the Kingdom of God. And for that, I am so thankful.

This was originally written as a spoken reflection for a worship service at High Rock North Shore where several of us reflected on our Christmas Eve experiences. I have very gently edited it to try to make it relevant to all readers - whether you attended worship with us this morning or not.

Photo by Gareth Harper on Unsplash

Dare

What a difference a year or two can make. Just two years ago we celebrated our first Christmas in New England. It was full of wonder - and not around the birth of Jesus. We were full of hesitation. Full of fear. We did a lot of pretending. Pretending that things were okay. Pretending that we liked it here. Pretending that we were in it for the long haul. We did a lot of crying that Advent. A lot of reflecting. A lot of wondering.

This Post was originally published on December 10, 2015. Life looks so different today than it did then. So much better. So much more full of life. And love. And happiness. And yet I know if we hadn't walked the journey that we've walked, we wouldn't we feel as grateful as we feel to now be on the other side.

Tomorrow I'll share with you a reflection on the journey from the other side - but for tonight, I bring you an oldie, but a goodie. Because sometimes you can't see just how far you've come without looking back to see where you started. And because maybe ... just maybe ... you find yourself in a place where you're feeling a little more darkness and despair than happiness and light. Maybe you don't know what's next for you. If that's you, I pray these words bring you a little sense of peace in the midst of your despair. 

Dare
What a bold word for this Advent season. One that I’ve been meditating on all day. It’s pretty appropriate for what I’m feeling these days. These days have been so dark and so lonely.

We had been gone just three nights when I got a text from my sister that said, “Are you loving Boston?!”

I refrained from bursting into tears as I simply replied, “We are tired and weary from traveling, but we are trying our hardest to have a good attitude.”

Dare
I didn’t know how sad I would be to make the move. We had talked about it our entire life together – I knew D wanted to explore some place other than Atlanta. He had lived there his entire life. When the job offer came, I’m the one who said “Let’s do it! It’ll be an adventure. If we hate it, we can move back.” It seemed like such an easy decision. It is Harvard after all – who can really turn that down?

But in our final days there … and in our beginning days here … the sadness began to set in. I feel like I left my whole world … for the unknown. It wasn’t perfect – but it was home. And I truly did love it. And when it became time to go … I just didn’t want to leave. I wanted to chain myself to the front door and tell the new owner – I’m sorry … we’ve changed our mind … take your money and find a different house. This one isn’t for sale.

I didn’t know how hard it would be for my sweet A. She’s such an old soul, that kid. She feels such big emotions, and at the tender young age of 3, she just isn’t sure how to process them. No one slept much our first night away. I think we all felt a little homeless … and I guess in some ways that’s what we were. In between homes – all our stuff on a truck – it was no wonder we all felt a little out of sorts. After being in a hotel a few days, even a very nice one, we were all just ready to be home.

Dare
When our stuff arrived a few days ago, we all began to feel a little more settled. We are now all in our own beds, with our own sheets, and we are even using our old ratty towels that I almost threw away but packed up at the last minute. We were all craving some sense of familiarity – some sense of being home.

We’ve started to hang a few things on the wall – and that helps a bit too – but when it comes right down to it, I’m simply feeling homesick. I miss my house … my neighbors … my church(es) … my family. I miss the Beltline. The Botanical Gardens. Zoo Atlanta. Piedmont Park. The High. Ponce City Market. Walks around Grant Park – my own backyard. The Barred Owl that hung out in the trees across the street.

Dare
So I’m trying … I’m trying to be courageous and dare to have faith! I know God has called us here for some reason – and although I have no idea what that reason is, I’m trying to have faith that it will be revealed to me soon. I’ve been thinking a lot about how our journey is happening right in the midst of Advent. I think about how the shepherds, the wise men, all of us … all expecting the light of God to shine on something grand and glorious – but instead it shines on a lowly manger. Something about that manger should be comforting to me in this time of transition … right?

And while I know in my gut we made the right decision for our little family … these days have been too short, too dark, and too lonely. I find myself praying for peace, for comfort, for connections. For strength to make this adventure a good one and for courage to continue stepping out on this limb in faith that God will provide everything that we need.

Photo by Sven Scheuermeier on Unsplash

Every Ending is a New Beginning

As I left the courthouse, I went straight to my car and called my mom. As soon as I heard her voice, tears started streaming down my face. I was sobbing so hard I could hardly get the words out. Breathe, she said. Take a deep breath. What happened?

She told me to go back to being a lawyer. She said it didn't matter that I felt called to ministry - if I can't afford my obligations, I should do the very thing that I went to school for. After all, it will pay a lot more, and I won't leave him footing the bill. MOM - IT'S NOT FAIR! I don't deserve this! I thought this would make things better ... but how am I going to survive on my own?? Did I make a terrible mistake??

Some memories are so vivid, you know? If there was ever a time in my life when I thought I had it all figured out, it was then. I was certain God was calling me out of this marriage - a marriage that was destructive to both of us - a marriage that wasn't fulfilling either of us. A marriage that was broken - and one that, when it came right down to it, I just didn't have the energy to try to fix. I was so certain God was calling me out of this little mountain town and into the big city. Calling me out of the lawyering world and into the world of professional staff ministry. Certain that God had provided me with a church community that would sustain and support me through this darkest time of my life.

So, I left the marriage. I moved to the city. I accepted a full-time ministry position. I had it all sorted out.

And then it was over.

Although it was a no-fault divorce, it felt like the judge declared me to be the one solely at fault. The selfish one. The one who didn't care about my marriage, or about the person I was married to. And although they claimed to be neutral, it felt like most of our mutual friends took his side. And to top it all off, not long after, that ministry position I picked up and moved to the city for was eliminated - a mere 6 weeks after I accepted it and began work.

Fast forward 7 years. I'm in a second marriage - a marriage that is incredibly healthy, wholesome, fulfilling. A marriage that builds up our confidence rather than destroys our souls. A marriage that is faith-filled and oh-so-happy. We are a couple that strives for faith-based community. A couple that takes church seriously. A couple, with two children, who is determined to find a faithful place that fulfills the needs of everyone in the family. A family who had it all sorted out.

And then we didn't. A few months ago, we found ourselves in limbo once again - searching for that perfect church home - the one that would offer us everything we hoped for - a place for each one of us in our family to worship, to learn, to grow. Not because we didn't love that new place we found, because we did ... but our tinies didn't. So we found ourselves swallowing our pride, acknowledging that sometimes the voice of God comes in the form of a child's request to return to a place she loved - a place she cherished - a place she considered home.

In the first chapter of her new book, Out of Sorts, Sarah Bessey says this book is

About Jesus and why I love him and follow him. It's about church and church people and why both make me crazy but why I can't seem to quit either.
...

It's a book about not being afraid.
...

A book about how feeling out of sorts leads us to sorting it out.

Amen, sister ... Amen.

Here's to not being afraid. To sorting it out. To embracing church and church people and following Jesus - even when it all makes us crazy.

This post was originally written in 2015, in response to Chapter One of Sarah Bessey's book, Out of Sorts.  

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