Christmas Light

I have several friends who have lost loved ones and for whom this season is not as joyful as it might be for others. Many of my homeschooling friends are mourning the loss of a sweet eleven-year-old girl who passed away the day before Christmas Eve. Though I do not know them personally, so very many of my close friends have grown up with her, taken care of her and watched her grow up. Her name? Faith.

She was a little girl of great faith, and so her name is fitting. Her family and her friends have been writing about how they find comfort in the knowledge that they will see her again.

Several of my friends mourn their mothers, some their wives, some their children.

And, yet, there is a Light. It might not shine as brightly, but it is there ~ the memories, the spirit of joy, the faith, the light … it lives on in those who are left behind.

We have been preparing for the birth of the infant Jesus. We have been traveling the road with Mary and Joseph. We have been opening our hearts to those in our family and those outside of our family. We have been seeking the Light. We see lights on houses, wrapped around branches and sitting on window ledges all across the continent.

Lights in our town.

Lights in the next town over.

On Christmas Eve my girls look forward to Mass, the lit candles and seeing baby Jesus lying in the manger. There is such an innocent wonder about that ~ an innocent and unwavering belief. It melts my heart that they get excited to put baby Jesus in our nativity on Christmas Eve. It is a great joy to light the white Christmas candle on our Advent wreath. But that joyous birth is intimately entwined with the crucifixion story, for, though this baby was born to teach us how to live, this baby also was born to die. As I think of so many friends and family who are hurting this day, I cannot help but think about the hope that Christmas brings.

There is a childlike innocence to faith. There is Light and there is happiness. As we get older, there is dirt along the road, the dust gets in our eyes. The Christmas story begins to be less about the joy and more about the painful road to the cross. Our faith may wane as we face trials. Our faith might suffer doubt.  We are in good company. Didn’t the Apostles have their doubts after the man who turned water into wine and who healed the sick and raised the dead allowed himself to die on the wood of the cross?

But the tomb was empty, and faith was stronger than doubt. 

This baby brings joy and happiness and light. 

The calm of Christmas Eve Mass.

The nativity story is integral to the crucifixion story ~ and, most importantly, the Resurrection story.

We are called to be the light for others as much as we are called *to* the light. Let your heart be still this day. Light a candle. Watch it flicker and feel the warmth radiate. God is close. He holds you near.

A neighborhood near my parents' home lights several hundred luminaries throughout their streets on Christmas Eve. What a beautiful way to work together to remind us that the Light is both physically and spiritually present. It doesn't matter where you are in this faith journey ... the light begs each and every passerby to stop and look at the wondrous undertaking. We stand in awe. And, for me, this light brings hope. 

Wishing you a blessed Christmas.

Our white candle for Christmas morning.

Speaking of the Light, my neighbor brought us this beautiful rose bouquet in the middle of the -6 degree (high for the day) weather. And a friend since childhood gave me these Lularoe leggings. There are candles and flames all over them! She was so thoughtful! They are perfect! I am so incredibly blessed by all of the many men, women and children who are a Light for me! 

I am so thankful for our neighbor who brought this gorgeous rose bouquet in the midst of subzero temperatures.

My friend was so thoughtful ~ she said she thought of me (obviously my Light posts), when she saw them!

Light, snow, confession

Light comes in different forms. Sometimes it burns brightly. Sometimes it is dim. Sometimes you can see it only with the help of the shadows. Sometimes you find your own light in the reflection of someone else’s.

As humans, we are full of fault. We make mistakes – we stretch ourselves too thin, we don’t make time for the things that matter and, as a result, it shows in the way we interact with those closest to us. Sometimes it shows in the way we look at ourselves.

I have a confession. Every Advent, we wrap up our semester the first week of December so that we can focus on baking cookies, making gifts, reading Christmas/Advent stories and just enjoying the time together.  This year I didn’t finish the semester on time. We still are reading stories and enjoying Advent, but school seems to be ever-looming overhead.

Still, we take the time to enjoy the little things.

These pictures are from the snowfall the other weekend.

Our Advent wreath, four candles lit, with the oil lamp we have added this year.

A family tradition: paper snowflakes ushering the new snow hang from our kitchen lighting.

My family getting ready to explore the woods after and during the snowfall.

The stream/river by our home.

On our way back from the woods.

The lovely bright berries on the snow-covered branches.

My youngest, making a snow angel ~ the joy of making things new again!

I was content with just shoveling our driveway and playing in our yard, but my husband wanted to go out exploring. We traipsed through the woods and looked at the wetland area with a completely new perspective.

I took the opportunity to talk with my children about the miraculous change: the fall brought beautiful, rustic colors, but when the leaves fell to the ground, the earth looked a little dirtier and the once glorious, lush branches then looked dull and barren. When God painted over the tress and brittle leaves with his impressive brush full of winter-white snow, the darkness was washed away. The blanket of white illuminates the world with a freshness that can only be obtained with that first snow.  It was beautiful and blessed.

As a Catholic, Confession does this for my soul. 

Spending time looking at our own faults is incredibly humbling. Reading an examination of conscience is sobering. Just when I think I might have a handle on life, I realize I still am so far away. Confession gives me the ability to recalibrate. My soul feels lighter the moment I walk out of the confessional. Saying the words out loud brings what once was hidden in darkness into the light.

At a recent event I photographed, a combat veteran whom I admire talked with me about unfathomable grace and the power of a strong prayer life. I admire this man in so many ways, but on those occasions where we start to have deep conversations of faith, he brings a light ~ that light both inspires me and reveals darkness. I am thankful for all of the many people who hold me accountable. I also am thankful when my soul feels fresh. I am thankful for the snow.

Thriving, a Focus on the Light, a Small Giveaway

Since I am focusing on the Light this Advent season (if you missed Filling the Empty Vessel, read it here), I was inspired by a segment on the Today Show.

Hoda Kotb pretended to be a meter maid and gave “tickets” to unsuspecting car owners. Inside the “ticket” envelope were tickets to concerts, ball games, orchestral events, etc.

Many unsuspecting people were understandably upset until they opened their “ticket” and discovered that they were, in fact, gifted with tickets.

What a great light in someone’s day!

Bringing that light can add some joy to someone’s life. Some may argue that it is only happiness for a moment, but I think it offers a little more. Perhaps that happiness might be fleeting, but a stronger component of happiness is hope. I recently was paid more, yes, *more*, for a photo shoot that I did. I didn’t expect it. It was an incredible blessing to our family, particularly around the holidays, and it made me smile. Opening the card brought me happiness, but that feeling of goodness and generosity continues to encourage me and inspire me. It begs me to do something for others, and it gives me hope that I am where I need to be.

I’ve been following Matthew Kelly’s Best Advent Ever through Dynamic Catholic. If you aren’t familiar with his writing, I’d encourage you to check it out. More on that later. I’ve followed him for years, and every time he comes out with a new book, I admit, I get a little giddy. They never fail to force me to evaluate the way I live my life.

Also, as I am working on thriving and focusing on the Light this Advent, Kelly’s new book, Resisting Happiness, fits right in. How often, during the hustle and bustle of the Advent and Christmas season, do we lose focus and become so consumed with all that we have to do instead of focusing on the true meaning of Christmas? How many times do we put up roadblocks to happiness? How many times do we push aside the things we know will truly make us happy, in favor of something that might make us happy for the moment?

I try to give my children opportunities to serve. I’ll be honest, I could do a lot better, but we try to focus on smaller things ~ making cookies for neighbors, crafting homemade presents for friends and family, donating toys for those less fortunate, the Advent giving tree at our church, being kind to those we pass on the street, handing a coffee or a meal to someone shivering with all of their possessions on the Square, inviting those whose families are distant to our home - especially around the holidays. As I am sure you know, the greatest gift is how strangers often become life-long friends after one small act of kindness.

I am working through Truth in the Tinsel this year and reading Ishtar’s Odyssey every night with my girls, and I truly hope that the connections we make in our family story time and Bible reading with the smaller things that we do throughout the year allow them to see that they are the light – no matter how small.

I’ve added some photos from our Truth in the Tinsel crafts because what brings a light to my life and happiness in my heart is watching my girls grow in their relationship with Jesus.

Making the Light of Baby Jesus stained glass project.

Creating a crown for our Baby Jesus.

Crafting materials surrounding our oil lamp.

This is one of my favorite ornaments, given to me by a mom in our homeschool group. I love putting it up in my window so I can enjoy the light coming through.

Zechariah's mouth being "closed" when he didn't believe that Elizabeth would give birth to a son.

The angel Gabriel.

Applying some "light" to her stable.

The finished product ~ love the light shining above Baby Jesus. Craft from Michael's, but I forgot to save the box, so I don't know where to point you for this foam craft.

OK, so as I think about what makes me truly happy, I am giving away a couple of copies of Resisting Happiness. On Wednesday, one lucky commenter will be chosen at random to receive the first book giveaway.

What do you need to do? Matthew Kelly asks us in chapter 2 of his book to think about what really makes you happy. I am not going to ask you to do anything crazy and soul-searching ~ but I do encourage you to take some time to do that. Comment below the post with one (or two or three) thing that makes you happy. That is it.

Happy Advent, friends ~ thrive, be the light, and find what truly makes you happy.

Filling the Empty Vessel With Light

A friend of mine was having an estate sale. It was sort of bittersweet to be there ~ knowing that her mom had passed away but that they were in need of people to help empty the home.

My girls found an oil lamp amongst some of the many treasures in that home. Harkening back to a time of Little House on the Prairie, I thought it might be a perfect fit for our family.

 Yesterday the tag in our Advent calendar read: Light the oil lamp for the first time.

Thus, an empty vessel was filled with red oil. A long cotton wick was dipped into the deep red liquid, and we waited until it was saturated before my husband lit the end.

Out of this empty vessel -- this see-through, dull and lifeless glass container -- shone a light that was brighter than all the lights on our Christmas tree.

The children were mesmerized. We had turned out the lights to be as “authentic” as we could be, and everyone was drawn to the lamp.

Many thanks to my friend who let her mother’s lamp come to our home to bring light to the darkness.

The Advent season and the season of Christmas can be joyous and also difficult. This year five of my husband’s cousins lost an incredible mother, our uncle lost his wife and another cousin lost his daughter. Several of my friends have lost their sweet mothers this year. Too many friends have lost babies. Too many veterans have lost their lives to invisible wounds. Too many friends are in a difficult place – financially, physically, personally, spiritually. One woman who went to school with my brother and I found out that her adorable little girl has incurable cancer. My heart aches for her, her parents, her sister, my friends, my family – everyone who has endured loss and faced uphill battles.

What always seems to hold everything together is the light. There is a light that radiates from our uncle and his children. There is a light that shines in the smiles of my friends as well as in the sparkles of even the most sorrowful of teardrops. There is a light that keeps a family rooted in love despite the unimaginable.

Sometimes, when life feels the darkest, I find my hope renewed in the light of others. I am drawn to those who find the goodness in every day. I am inspired by those who show compassion despite being downtrodden. I am awed by those who have been touched by God’s grace and who live fully in the light.

This Advent, during the anticipation of Christ’s humble birth, I am clinging fast to that light.

I’ve been busy. I am following Matthew Kelly’s Best Advent Ever program, and the message the other day left me wondering if I have been thriving or just surviving. I’ve vacillated between the two all my life. Haven't we all?  Isn’t that just the way of life? This Advent, during the four weeks before we celebrate the birth of a baby in swaddling clothes, I am working hard to thrive ~ to remember what really matters in life. I want to make this season a season of love, or, rather, a season of light.

Be the light, because somewhere, someone is looking to you to be that light. Bring the good news to those who need it. And if you are in the darkness, if you are just barely surviving, seek the light and, seek out a trustworthy person, because, no matter where you are, you were designed for the light.