For a long time, 2015 will be remembered as the Christmas when we were barely hanging on, and the Advent of finding joy in unexpected places. I told my physician-brother a few months ago that if there were a clinical diagnosis for “too busy,” Seth and I would have met the criteria for it several months ago. It is just too easy for two over-achievers to keep doing and forget to rest, relax, and take a break. To focus on who really matters: God, each other, our daughters, and the family and friends we love dearly. And I guess I should speak for myself – Seth does a way better job of this taking a break than I do. My counseling heart and artistic impulse are gifts … but they have the dark side of my tendency to say “yes” to more people and projects than I can adequately follow through.
This fall has been the process of me taking a giant step back – a step out of leading our small group, teaching women’s Bible study, over-scheduling with extra-familial commitments and appointments, and a step back that culminated in a decision to take a sabbatical from my counseling practice starting January 1, 2016. There are many reasons for this particular timing – two of them being:
(1) My pastor-husband will be graciously receiving the gift of a sabbatical from our church from February through April (an every 7-years-rhythm they’ve established for the pastors) – and I want to join him for that.
(2) My first book is being released in June, and I needed/wanted space to devote to this venture.
In the stepping back, there is much that I already miss – chiefly among them, the courageous women and men I’ve had the privilege of sitting with and walking together through stories of love, loss, and hope despite the darkest of backgrounds. (I do find myself already counting down the months until I will reengage with this calling again!)
Yet this is the beauty of God’s gifts of realizing our limitations: the limitations form the boundaries of our truest calling.
Until I said no to over-scheduling, I couldn’t have known the joy of just being … of writing … of enjoying the gift of a quiet home the mornings our daughters are at preschool … of being present for their many unscheduled moments (highs & lows) that happen when I’m here to notice them. I couldn’t have known the frustrations that push me deeper into faith in a God who sees – the frustrations that come when I see how poorly I love my family for whom I profess undying love (and when I experience their imperfect love towards me, too).
And herein lies the beauty of this Christmas-Advent season: in slowing down (being forced to, might I add, due to a litany of never-ending illnesses), Joy still came. Despite what felt like barely hanging on in terms of health and the fullness of our days and the way we typically celebrate Christmas (lots of parties both hosted and attended, etc.) – Joy came in being still and quiet enough to notice The Greatest Gift, Jesus. Jesus ushered in the best gifts of this season:
- grace given and received in the midst of fraying emotions and harried tasks
- a beautiful painting by a dear friend
- a necklace for this season, reminding me to “be still and know”
- a bracelet from my beloved, and all the love that is patient that it represents
- words to speak to you and to God – expressing my heart and inviting us deeper still into the mystery that is Jesus
- many hot cups of tea sipped while editing the manuscript of a book I need more than anyone else possibly could
- gifts from neighbors for us and our girls – and the gift of having great neighbors!
- family and friends who continue to love us through our imperfect moments and to lavish us with their time, attention, and generosity
For all of these gifts … for the Greatest Gift to match my deepest need … all I can say is what’s been sung for generations (reminding you and me that “faithful” is not what we are in our own efforts, but what Jesus calls us who cling to him by faith):
5 thoughts on “the Christmas of unexpected Joy”
This is beautiful and the perfect message for me this morning as I stress that Grace’s first Christmas failed to live up to my grand expectations.
Oh that’s motherhood!! Isn’t it? Thankful my words could strike a chord of hope for you. Your Christmas letter was beautiful, by the way. Xo
Very encouraging. I am coming to understand the “quiet joy of being,” as you put. Not intentionally, but simply because we have a different lifestyle here. I’m rejoicing with you and the gift of unexpected joy!
Love it! What I need to hear.
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