Something Old & Something New

With the holidays approaching, I become nostalgic and reflective. Now more than any other time of the year, I value tradition.

Ok, now don't call me old-fashioned, judge me, and stop reading this post. Hear me out until the end.

In our 21st century western society, there is a delicate balance between the contemporary and the traditional. The word "traditional" can have a very negative connotation with meanings like old fashioned or out-of-date, especially when compared with something nouveau or vogue. Geez. Even those words sound infinitely more chic. Traditional could conjure images of plaid couches and dusty large-print black Bibles. But remember, I didn't say I value traditional.

I value tradition.

Traditions are beliefs or customs that are transferred from generation to generation. A tradition is something that is worthy of being upheld and passed on and bears the enduring qualities that are considered timeless.

Thanksgiving is one of those holidays where my ideas of tradition have been stretched. Growing up, I believed thanksgiving was a time when you are together with your family. Since my mother was a nurse, however, every other year she would have to work at the nursing home, caring for others, so even that idea of what was traditional had to change to fit our circumstances, with my father bearing the responsibility of the meal preparation and my mother being absent.

When I married and began my own holiday gathering, we first began to celebrate the day with our parents, assembling with siblings and cousins. Several years and several children later, we found ourselves somewhat far away from relatives, and we decided to have our own Thanksgiving. As we surveyed our co-workers and friends, we realized that there were multiple people who had nowhere to go on this special American holiday. Many of them were internationals, either traveling or on short assignment in the states. Some were college students who couldn't afford to go home to their own families. Suddenly we found ourselves with a new and expanding sense of "family." We found that as we opened our doors and invited guests to our table that we certainly had much more to give and much to be thankful for. Our tradition expanded. Some of our most vivid Thanksgiving memories are laughing with our international friends as they observed our traditions and feasted at our table.

How, then, does the tradition become the traditional?

Traditions can become the less attractive step sister called "traditional" when the meaning and life behind them gets lost. Jesus warned about this when he said that some were, "neglecting the commandment of God, and holding to the tradition of men." In other words, they were busy doing the things but they had forgotten why they were doing them. There was no life in their customs or traditions. These people were more concerned with the act than the heart of what was behind it.

I believe there is a balance. Repetitiveness can cause something to become boring and mundane. Routine traditions can run the risk of losing the life and meaning behind them. When a tradition becomes passé, it bears a look at what is at the heart of it and how it can be renewed.  An inability to adapt the outward expression of the tradition to the present reality can result in an outdated tradition. Re-energizing a tradition is like giving it a face lift or renovation. The core value remains the same. The presentation is merely updated to allow for endurance of the principle.

For our family, knowing the traditions that are coming provides a sense of consistency and comfort. Change has always been a large part of our lives, and our traditions provide the glue of familiarity and anticipation in what lies ahead. There are traditions that we are willing to adapt and change, and there are others that will always stay the same.

There are some traditions that have stayed consistent for us throughout the holidays. Here are some of my favorites that have stood the test of time.

1- Expression of Gratitude. As a tradition at our bountiful feast, we choose to give thanks. Giving thanks is the heart of the holiday, and it is primary on our agenda. In some format throughout the day, each person is given opportunity to express gratitude for something in his or her life. The implementation has changed from year to year, but the expression remains the same. We articulate appreciation to the One who has brought us all together and for health, for relationships, and for the most significant events of that year. This is a time set aside to reflect, remember, and express gratitude.

2- Enjoyment of Food. I enjoy the presentation, the aroma, the flavors, and the variety of food, and this is a holiday made for food! Turkey has always been the centerpiece of our table, but the surrounding dishes have evolved over the years. We have long since stopped serving green bean casseroles and creamed corn. Creativity and maturing tastes make this celebration of food an opportunity to add originality to a cornucopia of nourishment. When international guests join us, the menu adjusts to include their respective additions. I give my kids plenty of input into their favorites, involve them in the process, and vow every year not to overdo it. I'm hoping this year I can actually fulfill my vow. :)

3- Giving Love to Friends & Family. In addition to our table including friends and family, we take time to connect to those friends and family who can not be with us. Gratitude is also the foundation for of this purposeful connection. Phone calls, texts, and skype sessions provide the avenue for fostering relationship to those who are afar.

4- Launch into the Christmas season. Once the dishes are cleaned, the football games ended, and the leftovers stored, our focus turns to the next holiday. We take advantage of a long holiday weekend to begin the decorating festivities leading up to the Christmas season and the celebration of the birth of Jesus. My whole family joins in the kickoff to this next holiday. Lighting of lights, holiday music, and tree decorating are highlights for our family. Over the years, I have given each family member a unique tree ornament which represents something important in that person's life. Carefully removing these from their packaging unleashes a swell of memories from significant life events and bonds our family closer with love and a sense of remembrance.

Whatever you do this season, think about tradition and the role it plays in your home and family.

The proper mixture between the 'old' and the 'new' can enable traditions to have their rightful place of value, honor and therefore longevity in our hearts and in our homes.

On Perspective and the Nuthatch

With the recent Arctic weather, I've been thinking a lot about perspective. I think almost everyone can agree that it's cold. But what does that mean, really?

Last year, we moved to Denver, Colorado where winter snows and cold weather are frequent. Having previously lived in California where the summer temperatures could peak at 113° F, we were not exactly prepared for cold. Last week we experienced one of the most frigid days this year with a high of 6° and a low of -10°. Wind chills plunged the relative experience even more. Several days later, the temperatures rose to a high of 27°. That was still very chilly, just below the freezing point. As I picked up my daughter from school, however, she got into the car without her coat and exclaimed in classic middle school hyperbole, "Mom, it's so hot!"

Was it really hot? Of course not. But her perspective had changed in light of her comparative recent experience. I too had shed my wool sweater and scarf. Meanwhile my east coast friends who rarely see freezing temperatures were shivering in their 35° experience.

Experience can definitely affect your perspective.

As I prepared to leave the grocery store yesterday, the young man bagging my 2 carts of groceries offered to help me out. "Thanks, but I can manage," I answered and immediately recollected the days of pushing 2 grocery carts with 5 small children. In those days, I wasn't sure exactly what food made its way into my cart. I was too preoccupied making sure my toddlers did not do somersaults over the cart edge or whether I could make it out of the store without having to change a dirty diaper. Pushing the 2 full carts yesterday was effortless in light of those previous experiences.

For anyone who deals with significant tragedy, the minor irritations of everyday life are pale in comparison. I was made very aware of this a couple of years back when my sister-in-law was undergoing chemotherapy for breast cancer. On one particular day I was blow drying my hair and was slightly annoyed at the extreme time and effort that drying my thick hair required. When my thoughts turned to my sister-in-law and her loss of hair, my perspective changed. My annoyance turned to gratitude.

I observed a wonderful example of perspective by accident in my California home. I often sat outside in the CA sunshine and observed the birds that shared a feeder in my backyard. We were blessed to live on a large isolated track of land, and the wildlife was abundant. I noticed a curious bird one day that captured my attention. It was a species that I later came to discover was the Nuthatch.

Although it is a beautiful bird, there is nothing extremely striking about the appearance of the Nuthatch. The quality that stood out to me was this bird’s ability to travel down a tree headfirst, feet and legs strong enough to support it actually traversing down the tree trunk, vertical and upside down. With a seeming disregard for gravity, this bird is at ease with its mode of transport, descending the trunk while all the other birds are moving up. It is not uncommon to see them literally hanging upside down. The Nuthatch isn't looking upwards or even straight ahead; it is viewing its world from the top down.

I often desire to have this top down perspective, more of a heaven to earth outlook. If we could see things from above our circumstances instead of being deeply affected by them, I believe we could consciously choose to change our perspective. If you have ever looked out the window of an airplane, all of the things that seem so prodigious from the ground like trees, cars, and buildings are insignificant when you are distanced far enough from them.

In addition to its viewpoint, the Nuthatch also takes a different route than other birds. It gets to the same destination, only in a completely opposite way. Because of their approach, they are able to see insects hidden in the trunk that are obscured from the view of the other birds.  This bird is fashioned for a similar experience in life as the other birds.  It simply goes about its daily life and purpose in a unique way.

When we can become comfortable with our uniqueness, realizing that it’s a part of the Creator in us, we are free to fully engage in that aspect of our being, letting God be fully God in us and feeling his pleasure and the fullness of His expression in our earthly vessel. When we can step back and see our circumstances from a different perspective, we are empowered to see things as they really are. Understanding our individuality allows us to be who we really are.

One meaning of perspective is a true understanding of the relative importance of things.

I hope to have the eyes that see those things that are truly important, and to choose a perspective that recognizes and understands their value.

The Orange Blouse

A funny little thing happened to me the other day...

My daughter tells me that I should never say that, because despite my best efforts, things are never as funny when I retell them as they were when they actually happened.

Well, a funny thing did happen to me the other day. But it was also a convicting thing, and hopefully, a lesson that I won't soon forget. It came in the form or an orange blouse.

I attend a weekly study group, and at times, I fall behind in the reading 'assignments.' Each assignment consists of easy 10-15 minute passages of thought provoking material. Today, I was behind, but my early arrival afforded me the necessary 15 minutes to quickly get up to speed on my reading. As parking spaces quickly filled up in the small parking area nearby, I chose an unmarked spot on the outer circle of the parking lot, thinking I could make my getaway easily by leaving only a little space in front of my car.

I settled down with the dregs of my morning java, and opened my book.

Forgiveness.

"Oh this one will be a breeze," I thought. Being raised in the church, I had heard innumerable sermons on the topic, and knew that I was probably an expert on this one. I breezed quickly through the chapter, looking up only when a flash caught my eye. A car was coming towards me (the wrong way) into the parking lot. I looked behind to see that the lot was full, and she was probably going to have to back up in light of the other cars heading towards her.

Suddenly, to my dismay, she darted forward to edge her car towards my front bumper. Closer and closer she came until she finally stopped. There couldn't be more than 6 inches between my bumper and hers. Without attempting to attract attention, I looked behind to see that 4 other cars had solidly parked behind me. I was stuck. Trapped. Pinned in. Done for.

My irritation at traffic issues is probably not unlike many of you reading this post. I watched in stunned surprise as a beautiful, regal woman dressed in a bright orange blouse stepped from the sports car parked nearly touching my family car. She walked back several times, apparently wondering if she had hit my car. Except for the knowing that I would have felt a bump, I was thinking the same thing. Apparently her assessment satisfied her, and she hurriedly walked away.

What to do now? Leave a little note on her car? Take her license plate number? Roll the window down and offer my parking wisdom to her before she escaped? Memorize her clothes and have a few choice words with her inside the building? The chances were good that she was going to the same place I was, so conviction got the best of me, and I decided to wait it out. After all, I still had 2 pages left to read in my chapters on 'Forgiveness.'

The irony of the situation did not escape me. Surely forgiveness does not include traffic offenses, especially by beautiful women who drive sports cars! I walked into the building, trying my best to walk slowly and confidently, while my heart began to be pricked at the internal offense that was building.

The familiar chatter of women greeted me, and I turned to see none other than the woman in the orange blouse. Here's where I would really be slapped with my resolve (or lack of it) for forgiveness. Ok, it was a small thing, but completely blocking someone in? Really? Surely this was not a Christian woman.

The confrontation and internal struggle in my heart was quiet but unmistakable. By the time our meeting was called to order, I had resigned myself to waiting as long as needed until it was time for me to go. This was not that big of a deal, and surely I could be patient. I would know when she left the room. The orange blouse would be difficult to miss.

The usual preliminary announcements commenced, and after short order, our speaker was introduced. She was a prestigious community member with numerous accolades and an impressive list of accomplishments. I was excited to hear from this well of wisdom. We all turned to see her, and to my shock, the woman in the orange blouse gracefully took the microphone.

My internal dilemma grew deeper, and I was glad my secret was safe. No one will ever know, I thought, as I prayed my flushed face wasn't obvious. I settled my beating heart, and listened as she told her story.

During the next 30 minutes, the speaker with the orange blouse, contrary to her position and personality, exposed her own hurtful & embarrassing past, including mistreatment bordering on abuse from a step father. She continued through misty eyes and a shaky voice to confess her bitterness towards him, and finally to express the journey she took towards forgiving the man who had stolen her childhood and her innocence.

Afterward, the table discussions blurred in my ears, and I heard God gently speak to me the parable of the man who had been forgiven a great debt. After receiving this forgiveness, the man went out and demanded a few pennies he was owed by another man, and even had him thrown in jail when he couldn't pay. I did not want my life to be like that of the ungrateful man, forgiven of a great debt yet unwilling to forgive others. What a small thing the parking lot incident seemed to be now in light of the forgiveness this woman had released to her abuser and shared with a group of total strangers.

The pounding of my heart increased as I knew I had to expose my own experience and share my story. This personal exposure would solidify my own conviction and resolve, and perhaps my story could help others too. I had the grace that day when this 'funny confession' I had really was funny. And poignant. And convicting. And memorable.

I'm wearing an orange sweater today, and I think of the orange blouse that imprinted on my heart that day a message of forgiveness. It is not just the big things that need to be washed away, but more often for me, it's the little things. The last piece of gum taken from my purse the day before a big interview. The spilled juice on my freshly mopped floor. The car that parked way too close to me in a crowded lot.

God came to me that day in the form of a beautiful woman in an orange blouse, and spoke a message of forgiveness that I will not soon forget.

Mary, Mary Quite Contrary

Words have power.

It's amazing how much what others say about us can shape what we think about ourselves. I was surprised recently at the stories of grown women who could still remember negative things that had been said to them from as early as age 4. Things like "you'll never find someone to love you" or "you'll never be good at school" were not uncommon. Hearing these women say that they could still vividly remember those spoken words clearly illustrated their power.

I do believe in the power of words.

I also believe I can choose to use my words to positively impact those people around me.

Mary wore a pale gray, over sized Disney sweatshirt, which hung loosely on her in an attempt to hide her expanding midsection. Her round face bore the effects of teenage acne, and it was beginning to show the signs of the encroaching years. Her thinning white hair was pulled into a simple, high ponytail, devoid of any attempt to mask its sparsity.

I hadn't really noticed her name until that day at a weekly mom's gathering. On that day, Mary repeatedly interrupted and turned the conversation to herself and her own stories, mostly of offense and hurt. This was not a new occurrence, but it had been escalating each week. Though her shared thoughts were valuable, I could see the possibility of an ever increasing hijacking of future sessions. Mary began to dominate more and more of the discussion.

As the conversation continued and I pondered our dilemma, I happened to look down at her name tag. "Mary," it simply said. As soon as I saw it, I began to think of the most famous Mary that I knew. This Mary at my table didn't look or act like any image I had of that Mary from long ago. Then I realized that sometimes inspiration in not based on logical thought. One thing I have learned over the years is that at times my thoughts are interlaced with impressions which I interpret as God's voice, and I prayed a silent prayer, asking for help with this lady. I certainly did not have a good plan about how to guide her (and rescue our group). As the meeting drew to a close, my thoughts became more ordered, and I decided to make my way around the table to speak with her.

I told Mary that her name was not an accident. Mary, in the Bible, was chosen by God with a unique purpose and destiny. "The same is true for you," I told her. "You were also chosen by God for something very special." I spoke this to her, hoping that my words would be encouraging. I sincerely believe that there is a design for each of our lives. Knowing that and seeking to find and engage in purpose is vital.

Tears began to flow down Mary's cheeks as the reality that she was valuable began to wash over her. "Really?" she asked, incredulous that her life had meaning and importance. I shared a few other simple things with her, as well as some advice on finding the sense of acceptance she was seeking. She sat, pondering what I had just told her. As I walked away, I left with the belief that my words had power to break through some of her insecurity and discouragement and leave her with a new confidence that would minimize the need to continually look to others for affirmation about herself.

Just as negative words have power to shape and form our images, so do positive ones. Adding our belief to words gives them ultimately more power. The Bible says, "The power of life and death is in the tongue." I had several options that day. I could have engaged her during discussions and corrected her publicly for interrupting. I could have resigned myself to the idea that she fit the image of the nursery rhyme "Mary, Mary quite contrary" or that she embodied one of the meanings for her name which is "bitterness." I could have walked away, assuming it was not my responsibility. Instead of all these options, I decided to give life with my words. I took 5 minutes to make a difference, to speak words of encouragement that have the power to displace the negative ones that have obviously been sown into her life.

Weeds grow much more readily than planted seeds, but that day I planted a good seed. The Mary in the nursery rhyme had a garden. In a way, we all have a garden in our hearts, where many words and feelings are planted.

I pray that the good seeds of encouraging words will grow in Mary's heart, and that the reality of belonging, usefulness, and purpose will supplant the insecurity and failure. That is how I hope her garden will grow.