Christmas for one

Just re-thinking.  Do you moms ever do that?  Even as you could give the speech?  I know it’s enough.  I told you that.  And I have to be ok with it.  Because if it has to be for this Christmas, I’m noticing we’re running out of time.  But I couldn’t help but feel a little teary this morning.

My sister was just telling me about our other sister’s Christmas.  She felt they needed to do something for someone this season to feel the Christmas spirit, and so she found a little family who doesn’t speak any English through St. Vincent De Paul.  They delivered their Christmas packages and food yesterday.

I loved hearing the details of my sister’s experience with this family.  She is very private and so I don’t want to share her story in detail, but I was touched and very humbled.  They are like most of us, they have to stretch to make the most of their money.  But they wiggled things around in their budget and came up with the means to make Christmas for this sweet family.  All the 19 year old boy wanted was a pair of pants and a shirt.  And the 10 year old boy wanted was Legos.  In her typical way, she was more than generous.  As my sister relayed what our other sister was able to do, my love for her and her family grew.  She is my baby sister, but she teaches me so much.  I loved how she focused on just one small family.

Then my mom, in her Scottish story-telling voice, read us a story last night of another friend who had a similar experience.  Of a Christmas when they’d paid forward a generous Christmas they’d been given the previous year.  They found a humble home with a dirt floor not far from their own home in San Diego.*  I was touched by their story as much as I was my sister’s.

These two scenarios make me think of Christ.  And how he is all about the one.  Mother Teresa was that way too. As I've been reading a little book about her, I've been so impressed by her wisdom to not get overwhelmed but to focus locally and to pay attention to the needs of the individual.  I think that's why I’m crying, I can’t help asking myself if I’m missing the mark.  I’m like you, and even though we don’t do treats and little fun bags of anything, I still don’t want anyone to be forgotten.  Not so worried about our everyday friends… more the ones who don’t have much family or support.  And so we’ve tried.  But would it have been better for our kids to have focused on just one family and really thought about the individuals in that home?  I've wondered this morning if we've done it all wrong.  I recognize that we're all going to do things differently, and I honestly have felt a lot of peace this season.  But I still couldn't help but wonder if maybe these two stories have a lesson for me.

I loved how these friends and our sister went to the actual homes to deliver the gifts.  Their kids saw firsthand how desperate these families are.  My sister’s family only asked for corn meal and beans and rice for their Christmas dinner.  She said it made her three boys take note of what they had.  I can’t imagine it not changing them a little.  I’ve wished I’d done something just like that.

Because aren't you concerned about what we’re really teaching our kids?  Do you ever worry that they’re just not getting it?  Do you wonder if they know how lucky, how blessed, how over the moon rich they really are?  Simply because they have a warm home and beds and dinner?  Do they see it at all?  I’m desperate to teach them, to open their eyes, to shake them into recognizing how much we have and how grateful we should be and how we should use all we have to help others.  And I feel like, despite the good we try to do in tiny, tiny ways, it’s not sinking in.  They aren’t getting it.  They are sweet, I love our kids so much, of course I do.  And I don’t blame them for not knowing any different.  But yes, I’m teary that I may have missed a prime opportunity to do some good, to open their hearts in an impactful and personal way.  Please don’t lecture me and tell me that it’s all good, we all serve in our own ways.  I know.  I’ve given the talk a million times myself.  I just feel like maybe we should’ve taken one family and really focused on their needs like many of you are doing.  Maybe that’s a better way?

What I’ve really felt strongly this season, as I alluded to previously, is that we can serve beyond Christmas.  I can take what I’ve learned, seen, felt, and experienced through all of you and do better this year.  We are bad at serving as a family.  I’m not being any sort of humble, it’s the honest truth.  And I absolutely know why.  It scares me to death to lead my family into a nursing home.  I would have to be out in front.  I would have to lead us in the singing or talking.  How on earth would I ask a random grandpa if he’d like to play checkers?  It terrifies me to visualize it.  To be rejected.  My family would all hide behind me (if they’d agree to go at all), which is where I would want to be.  I’m scared to take us downtown to a homeless shelter. What would I say to them? I’m not sure I could be brave enough to take us to a cancer center. Would my look give it away that they scare me and then would we all just uncomfortably look at each other? What good would we even do?  It all comes down to my fears and insecurities as to why we don’t serve on a more personal level, it really is as simple as that. 

But as I've heard how quietly and intimately these two women have served with their families at Christmas, it inspires me.  To find the one, to focus on just a small corner of my little world, to help in more individual and thoughtful ways.  To not just send service from afar but to really get into the lives of people.  It's easy to send notes and treats and buy sweats and candy for people.  But I'm aware that we are lacking in personal connection, of seeing life up close, of noticing life through the eyes of those truly in need.

This is a gift I want more than any other this year, for my family to experience real giving. I feel keenly the need to introduce them and myself to real people. To notice the one. To get out of my scared box and link arms with my husband (and maybe another family to start with) and serve.  My family always accuses me of wanting to save the world.  And with a tender heart, it is frustrating to not know how to make any sort of difference.  But these two Christmas stories truly reiterated to me that the Spirit of Christmas is truly just the Spirit of Christ.  And that as we emulate his way of loving, we will notice the one, we will know that we are saving the world as we help one family and one person at a time, just like my sweet sisters and friends are doing.

*Christmas story

Enough

I was relaxing with Todd late (for us) just last night on our couch in front of our fire by our tree, caught in a stare as I reminisced over all our funny little ornaments, mesmerized by the tiny white lights that got sort of blurry the longer I looked at them.  And I wondered aloud if we’ve done Christmas right.

I think a girl would know exactly what I was saying.  But I spelled it out for him.  Did we remember everyone, did we hit the mark (whatever that is, I have no idea)?  Did we spoil the kids, or were we cheap?  Do we have any money left?  I still have donation slips and envelopes from all sorts of organizations, is what we’ve given enough? (Don’t throw them away yet.)  Did we forget anyone on our letter list? I tried to clean it up, but I don’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings.  We need to have some of them over.  Did the kids spend their giving-away money? What should we do about that? I saw big bags coming in the other day when Todd and our 12 year old daughter spent the day together.  Subway was somewhere in their day, who knows what else they came up with. Were the little things I got for Todd statement enough to let him know how much I appreciate what he does for us? We didn’t even get our missionary son a single tie.  I didn’t even think of it.  And I totally forgot about making him homemade anything.  Good grief.

But as we lounged lazily in the part-dark, I felt content.  At peace.  Of course I’ve forgotten people.  (But we remembered a couple last night; we’re on it.)  I didn’t buy everyone what I really wanted.  But at the same time, hundreds have flown out of our account.  Daily, it feels like.  I think the older we get, the wider our circle becomes is all.  So no, our gifts may seem chintzy.  I feel bad.  But we’re doing the best we can.  And no, no one’s getting any neighbor gifts.  I haven’t made my toffee or fun nuts or any other treats.  I’m already feeling fat from taking a week off for being sick.  That and I can see it.  I’m awed by how on the ball our friends are.  Completely taken aback by the treats they bring us.  I hope they know we love them.  So much.  We just don’t know how to really make sure they know.  I hope it’s not dependent on a fudge plate.

I know there are people at church we’ve missed.  The old people.  That’s something I still want to do something about.  We’ve full-on skipped the workers at school.  I just figure my time will have to be my gift for another year; it’s simply not on my list.  Maybe the kindergarten moms will come through; I never was one of those.  Even when I was.

We’ve been pretty lame at our efforts to do Light the World—one of my favorite initiatives ever.  Just a scripture about Jesus everyday with a short 20 second video and three suggestions to choose from to become a little more like him this season. We talk about it every night. Check.  We watch the video.  Check. We read the suggestions.  Check. We think they’re great ideas. Check. And then we nod our heads again in agreement, pray, and go to our separate beds.  Avery may have done one or two.  We’ve tried a couple.  But to be honest, we’re bad at this.  I started to think about our failure at the easiest opportunity for service and love ever, but then I stopped.  I told Todd these are great ideas. I think we should do some of them in February.  Or April.  It’s not that I don’t have a huge testimony of service.  Or that I’m lazy. (Well, partly probably.) It’s just that I refuse to allow this month to fuel my guilt.  So yes, we talked about praying for those who mourn.  And we have.  We talked about forgiving others, for looking at the good qualities of people who are hard (and I actually prayed quite a bit in my heart yesterday for someone), and for standing up for those who get made fun of.  We’ve written letters, we’ve spent time as a family, we’ve had friends over.  All suggestions from our service calendar I guess.  But more because we just wanted to. I know we can do more.  In January. Or harvest time.

I guess I can feel peace in spite of all we’ve missed and under-done because we know it doesn’t really matter.  There’s the day after Christmas.  And all the ones after that.  I already know we’re never getting a book written about us. There’s no way I should be writing a blog.  Our house is a bomb.  I’m making seven beds in the next day or two (which means washing every element of bedding including comforters first—I’m weird but I hate that stale storage smell). I’ve got company coming smack dab in the middle of a major commitment I need to oversee. I haven’t even really got to Christmas food, I have a vague cloud floating over my head—a thought bubble thing—about dinner I’m to make for 10-16.  I really should pull its string down and pin it to something sturdy.  But maybe not till tomorrow.  Bread’s raising for Todd’s work people. Check. First load of company sheets are in their rinse cycle. I think our friends know we love them. I haven’t cried a single tear.  At least not in relation to Christmas.  Only with my friends who are sad. And from happiness. I’m feeling the spirit of Christ, I’m feeling his love wrapped around me in spite of the craziness I’m in the middle of.  We’re doing things as a family that are simple and that fit us and our life. I’m in awe at how peaceful and calm I feel.  And that’s how I know it’s all enough.

The gift of love

Maybe I’m simply not mainstream (no surprise there), but I’m not always on the same page as the experts or even my friends when it comes to movies and books, for instance.  I guess I just want to see for myself, to go in without any ideas bumbling around in my head from anyone, I just want to form an opinion on my own.

I do this with books all the time.  In fact, I almost subconsciously have my guard up when it comes to books that are popular because I’ve had such bad luck with them.  One was a recent Pulitzer prize winner (A Spool of Blue Thread) and I read about 3/5 of it before I just had to call it.  Harry Potter was the same, I read about 1/3 of the first book and just couldn’t do it.  But I read all sorts of weird stuff that I can’t really even recommend to anyone I know (except my mom and sisters) that I absolutely love.  Regardless of what may be well-liked (or not), I’d rather just decide for myself.

And no where is this truer than when it comes to people. I just know I’ve been given the wrong information way too many times.  I can’t tell you how often I’ve heard negative stuff about someone I didn’t know, then I meet her and get to know her and totally love her.

I think we're all pretty good about teaching this to our kids. Be nice to everyone, keep an open mind, don’t judge people by what other people say about them, get to know them.  Read what appeals to you, find hobbies that look interesting to you that match your personality, form your own opinion on an issue or about a class or teacher or person, go see a movie and figure out for yourself if you liked it, fight for causes you believe in regardless of what anyone else says.  Don’t worry about what everyone else thinks.  Give people the benefit of the doubt.  Decide for yourself.

When it comes to people in particular, regardless of what background stories I’ve heard about someone or what kind of talk is going around, I want a fresh canvas, a chance for both of us to decide if we’ll like each other, if we’re compatible, and if we’re interested in a friendship.  And I want my kids to do the same.

Of course I’ve met some peculiar people over my lifetime, we all have.  In fact, aren’t we all a little quirky?  Some have been truly eccentric, a little off the beaten path, I’ll give you that; but I think they like standing out.  I’ve met some that I maintain a large circle around; they sort of scare me (not in a dark alley sort of way, but that I’ll end up offending them inadvertently and get on their bad side sort of way), I’m afraid to get too close.  I’ve met so many soul mates, kindred spirits; I love these women so much.  I’ve met women who are hard for a lot of people to get along with.  I’ve met women who like things done a certain way (isn’t that all of us in one way or another?). I’ve met women who worry and stress about so much in their lives and others who are as carefree as the wind.  I’ve met women who show me a different perspective, who open my eyes to another way of thinking.  I’ve met women who are hiding their insecurities behind a gruff exterior, a fake confidence.  I’ve met some gems, quietly hiding on the outskirts, waiting to be discovered.  I’ve met women who can do anything, who are competent and vocal, strong and almost intimidating.  I’ve met those who like to be in charge and those who like to be led.  I’m like you, we can’t help but have rubbed shoulders with all types.  They’re everywhere.  We’re in activities with our kids, we work, we help out at school and church, we mingle with our kids’ friends’ parents, we socialize with friends of friends, we belong to extended families.  We’re in the middle of it all as women.

But what I’m seeing is we women have so much more in common than we see at first.  For the most part, everyone I’ve met just wants to be known, appreciated, respected, and loved.  They’re just trying to make it through the day like the rest of us.  They love their families, and they have dreams, but it’s not easy.  They—like us—have been taken advantage of.  They get mixed up in misunderstandings.  They get tired.  They’re protective of their tender hearts that have been hurt so many times through the years.  They want to use their talents and abilities that are unique to them, they want to contribute meaningfully.  But they’ve failed and been let down.  They’ve had hard times financially or with their kids or with their extended families.  They’ve dealt with health issues.  Marriage hasn’t always been easy.  Some have built walls, others continue to open their hearts to get broken again.  They’re just like us.

I just think we can assume everyone has a story about why they’re the way they are, and if we could have just a moment’s look inside their hearts, we’d pull them close and embrace them like a mom with her sad child.  Like this young bishop (Elder Eyring).  A (new and drunk) member of his congregation had just driven through the glass and into the lobby of a bank.

“As I waited to speak to him in the bishop’s office, I planned what I would say to make him feel remorseful for the way he had broken his covenants and embarrassed the Church. But as I sat looking at him, I heard a voice in my mind say, just as clearly as if someone were speaking to me, “I’m going to let you see him as I see him.” And then, for a brief moment, his whole appearance changed to me. I saw not a dazed young man but a bright, noble son of God. I suddenly felt the Lord’s love for him. That vision changed our conversation. It also changed me.” Don’t you think?

I remember another women who told of when she was a young mother with a new baby.  She asked God who this baby was, to show her.  This experience impacted her deeply and I’m sure it changed the way she parented.  I know this is something we can all do.  We can ask Heavenly Father to help us see someone we’re struggling with as He does.  We can look past the rough parts and focus on what He surely loves about this person.  No where would this more helpful than in our own families.

In fact, I was just reading in my journal last night about a time I was annoyed with one of the kids.  Not an argument, but just in general because I didn’t see this child moving forward or progressing or even caring (at least in the way I thought he should).  So I prayed about my feelings; and, as so often happens, I opened to this scripture randomly one morning in the temple, “Beloved, let us love one another: for love is of God; and every one that loveth is born of God, and knoweth God.” I got no additional information, no insight, no other answer.  Just an overwhelming feeling of love for my son.

This message from God touched my heart profoundly and humbled me on the spot.  I’m usually so generous with women I meet and know, it’s not hard to love them deeply.  I think it’s because I’ve lived long enough to recognize everyone is struggling with something but that everyone is amazing in her own way, I’m ok with different, I know I’ll find something I love about her.  But I hadn’t been as kindhearted in my own family in this instance. How tragic, but what an incredible lesson and reminder that love—his kind of love—is always and forever the answer. I'd forgotten.  Or maybe felt so frustrated and hurt and discouraged that I let those feelings overtake the familiar unconditional love I have for my family. But that morning in the temple, reading words meant for me that day, changed the way I saw my role as a mom. As strongly as I believe it's to teach, my highest calling is to love.  As a mom and as a friend.

Usually in families that's a given because we know each other intimately; and, because we’re privy to the back story, it breaks our hearts when people misjudge our children or us or our parents.  We wish we could tell them the whole story.  The nights we’ve cried together.  The things we let go so that we can focus on the bigger things.  The talks we’ve had with our teenagers and the choices we allow them to make on their own.  All we’ve been through together.  What they’re really like inside.  That they’re doing their best. If that’s true in our families, don’t you think everyone has a similar story that maybe they just can’t share?  Maybe it’s all too tender or sensitive, or maybe they’re respecting a child’s privacy or trying to put it behind them, maybe they think they can’t trust us because we seem too judgmental or different or distant.  I just think we’re more similar than we appear, whether we're adults or kids, families or friends.  We’re all mostly just doing the best we can. 

I’ve noticed that when I’m quiet and thoughtful about a person I’m struggling with, when I humble myself enough to ask God about it, always a loving feeling comes to mind.  Not my natural inclination or what I’d like to say or do, but more along the lines of how God would respond.  Sometimes I’m irritated because I’m certain I understand the situation and I know exactly what response is warranted, I don’t want to be nice, she is mean just like everyone’s told me.  But if I can just quiet myself long enough to ask God what he thinks, he opens the curtains and shows me some things I wasn’t privy to before.  It might be as simple as an impression about something she may be worried about, it might be a question he sends to my mind, it might be a clue in a conversation within a short time, some new information.  Overwhelmingly, it’s a warmth, a feeling of love. He simply asks us to trust him with the details of his children’s lives and to try to see them and love them like he does.