Felix Nativitas

Merry Christmas - But it isn't only about the gifts.

When we think about Christmas, we usually think about presents, Christmas trees, Christmas music, holiday lights, cookies, family, and our various traditions. Traditions are a major part of the holiday season for my family. My Oma came from Germany, so we celebrate Saint Nicholas on December 6th by putting our shoes by the front door for him to fill. Other traditions include the advent candles and our singing. But the most beautiful and tender tradition we have is held on Christmas Eve, the holiest night of the year.

When I describe Christmas Eve to my friends, I always tell them how we dress up for the occasion, about the feast that my Oma always prepares, the carols that we all sing around Oma's piano, Opa's spiritual challenges, the gospel reading, and our loving gift exchange. That is the basic formula for each Christmas Eve, although each year seems to be a little bit different - and a little bit more tender.

The Christmas of 2010 is one that I hope will be forever engrained in my heart and soul.

During the months preceding Christmas, I found myself at school with a hip injury that would send me home early, with the semester uncompleted, and give me ample time to reflect upon my life. Considering the upcoming holiday, I spent a lot of energy looking back on past Christmas's, and anticipating the next few weeks. I worried a lot about how the holiday would be celebrated because I was afraid that my Oma would not be able to have Christmas at her home, and that families would not get along with each other.

I was almost sick with dread because of Christmas, so I decided to do something about it "with an eye for any fate." I put my energies into my gift giving; I spent many wonderful hours knitting for my mother, painting for my aunt, and thinking about each person in the family and why I loved them so much. I also fasted and prayed earnestly that we would be able to make it work.

By the time Christmas Eve came around, I saw that our family has never been more beautiful. Because I had slept over at my Oma and Opa's house the night before, and helped out wherever I could, I was able to see everyone as they came in. I have never seen my Opa so handsome in my life! I don't believe a man could look better in a tuxedo than he did. The evening seemed to be especially blessed because Opa invoked heaven's blessing on us all, before we sat down to eat the feast that Oma carefully and lovingly prepared for us. I cannot express to you how beautiful it was to listen as siblings, cousins, aunts, uncles, parents, and grandparents talked and laughed together!

I have never enjoyed caroling as much as I did that night, when everyone, with the possible exception of Hans, sang together. I honestly believe that music holds a definite power to invite the spirit and unite families in ways that are otherwise impossible. That Christmas we did something a little different - we divided parts to the Twelve Days of Christmas, and were very goofy while we sang. My heart was full to the bursting point watching Aunt Katherine's "eight maids a-milking, with hand gestures to indicate milking; Ryan's "four calling birds," as he stood on one leg and flapped his arms; and dear little Reed, standing in front of the fireplace, happily singing about the "partridge in a pear tree." We had so much fun together, but it wasn't just a goofy time for us. When we settled down to reverently sing Silent Night, I couldn't help being touched when listening to Oma sing in German, and watching the tears fill Lara's eyes as we looked on at the scene.

After we had all sat around the Christmas tree, Opa asked us wbout his challenge from the preceding year. Much to our shame, no one could answer him. For me, I couldn't answer because I didn't have the courage to reveal everything that I was feeling. I still don't know if I know how to articulate it, but at least I can try.

My answer to his query came as the following scene was etched into my heart. If ever Norman Rockwell had a scene to paint, this would have been it: Opa, in a tuxedo without the jacket, sitting on his armchair by the grand window, Christmas lights brightly twinkling from the outside, an old-fashioned lamp brightly shining to provide Opa with light as he read a depiction of Christ's birth, beautifully wrapped presents on the floor surrounding the tree, and little Spencer, with his bright red hair, lying on the floor at Opa's feet. I couldn't keep a few tears from falling as I looked at the scene, when I reflected about how Christmas is a time of gifts, without being about the gifts.

Opa wanted to know if we had tried to cultivate the spirit in our lives and our testimonies of Christ through the year. And while I couldn't speak, that was the culminating point of my realization that along with my family, I have. Christmas is the one blessed time of the year when we may sit with our families and report on what we are giving to that Child. "What shall we give to the babe in the manger?" That Christmas, my gift was a gift of love and gratitude. Although God took my father home from our family circle, He has helped sooth the tears and has brought additional people into our hearts and home.

"God bless this home - And all those who live and visit there." That blessing, written on the wall above our heads, surely came to pass that Christmas as I, with my family, enjoyed a sacred evening of love, testimony, and gift-giving: "these are the gifts for the king of us all."

Felix Nativitas - Merry Christmas!

Familia, Amor et Vita

Family, Love and Life

It is the middle of the night and I cannot sleep. Everything in my life seems to be perfect and falling apart. Why is that? I don't want to make it sound like I am complaining, but I am overwhelmed with the goodness and the sulkiness of life right now. I cannot even fathom how difficult these next few months will be for me. I am facing surgery in the next couple of weeks, recovery and more physical therapy, and months without many friends my age. I love my home so much, but I need to be out living my life - and I can't.

Family

I am happy about something wonderful though - this weekend has been one of the most beautiful that I can remember since dad died. I feel as though everyone is trying their very hardest to make the family work, which is bringing the spirit of Christmas deeply into our home. For the first time in years I feel like I have a complete family. I still miss my dad and nothing can change that, but what we still have is a beautiful thing.

Love

I want to be in love but I think that I might be too picky to ever be in love. I definitely have a very specific type that I am attracted to, but the men in that category put me in the friend zone, marry/date other women, or are younger and on missions. All three of those groups are problematic, so I am facing another single year. I need to stop complaining though, but I am overwhelmed. It is looking as though I am stuck here until next Fall, so I don't have a chance to find someone who will love me until then. I really hope that no one reads this post because I am so disgusted with myself for being upset about that... But I am so ready to be in love. I have a lot of love to give - but only to the right person. I am definitely not the type who will just kiss anyone. I believe that kissing is a beautiful and intimate expression of adoration for another person. Kisses lose their meaning when they are just given out to anyone who asks. It is funny that although I firmly believe this, I am frequently propositioned to make out. Do people really see me as though I were a floozy? Oh well.

Life

As for life, all I really have to say right now is that my labrum hurts a lot. I am shaky and exhausted, but the pain of it is keeping me awake. No one understands how it is, but I hurt all of the time. I miss walking and running around. I have many months ahead of me before I can even hope to do either of those easily. I just feel like I am caught in limbo. It is halfway exciting though to see how this will all turn out. Something good is bound to come from it. Something good always comes from hard times, the tricky part is trying to find it. But the search makes the adventure fun. It is also exhausting.

Que sera.

Familia, Amor et Vita

Vita et Mutatio

Life and Change.

When I began my college career, I didn't anticipate learning much beyond the necessary academics that would ensure my ability to graduate. At the time I believed that I would systematically pass through the conveyor-belt type education, follow the stereotypical pursuit of marriage, and settle down with my husband, my child-bearing hips, and multiply and replenish the world. Of course I knew that there would be bumps along the way, but what I didn't realize that I was going to hit the largest "bump" that every single person has to conquer:

Life.

You could laugh and say, with the typical vocal eloquence of our society, "no duh." While presuming that every person lives each and every single day of their life, one may even foolishly presume to say that I couldn't have just discovered that life exists when I reached college age. The very idea of it! Obviously I must have lived every day because my body has been in existence since the day that I was born. I used to believe that idea as well - until life hit.

For my friends birthdays, I typically like to leave each of them a little note to make them laugh on their special day. Usually they are simple and meaningless ("May your life be like toilet paper - long and useful." "Boogers are like Birthdays - the more you have, the harder it is to breathe."). However, some of them have meaning beyond a laugh:

"May you live all the days of your life." (I cannot remember who this quote has been attributed to).

Surely, living cannot simply mean waking up in the morning, going through the daily routine of life, and falling asleep at night. That is not to say that living cannot happen in the interim - but existing is not purely synonymous with living. Living entails so much more! It begins with opening your eyes, looking around you, acknowledging the unpleasant, relishing in the good, and trudging through both with the zeal of a conqueror!

When I initially embarked in my schooling, I couldn't possibly have dreamed about the adventures that life was about to hand me. In fact, I had assumed that I had had my bit with life when I spent years watching my dad die of cancer. Because of this assumption, I planned my life out in such a way that not only did I doom myself to fail all of my plans, but I had also set my appointment with Life.

And now here I am - I am a couple years older, and a lot more battered than I was when I began. Interestingly, I am indescribably happier as well. Perhaps I didn't marry my first tall, dark, and handsome, like I thought I was going to do. And maybe I didn't pass every semester with flying colors. But I haven't failed.

Like the wind, life merely has changed my course - and it will likely be doing it again and again.

However, there is another thing about this life and the change therein, which comes as surely as the rising sun, that plagues me. There is always a tinge of sadness that is as certain as the gray sky of dawn. I am trying to not dwell on it - but it is hard not to acknowledge it. I am worn out, battered, torn, twisted, inside-out, and sideways. What is with that? I'll admit that there are days that it seems like it would be nice to be able to just quit and go back to an "easy" life! But I know from my meager existence for the year and a half after Dad died that that is simply not an option. There is a stubbornness deeply embedded within my soul that won't let me give up my right to live. Longfellow perfectly articulated what I mean in "A Psalm of Life" that he wrote:

TELL me not, in mournful numbers,

Life is but an empty dream ! —

For the soul is dead that slumbers,

And things are not what they seem.

Life is real ! Life is earnest!

And the grave is not its goal ;

Dust thou art, to dust returnest,

Was not spoken of the soul.

Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,

Is our destined end or way ;

But to act, that each to-morrow

Find us farther than to-day.

Art is long, and Time is fleeting,

And our hearts, though stout and brave,

Still, like muffled drums, are beating

Funeral marches to the grave.

In the world's broad field of battle,

In the bivouac of Life,

Be not like dumb, driven cattle !

Be a hero in the strife !

Trust no Future, howe'er pleasant !

Let the dead Past bury its dead !

Act,— act in the living Present !

Heart within, and God o'erhead !

Lives of great men all remind us

We can make our lives sublime,

And, departing, leave behind us

Footprints on the sands of time ;

Footprints, that perhaps another,

Sailing o'er life's solemn main,

A forlorn and shipwrecked brother,

Seeing, shall take heart again.

Let us, then, be up and doing,

With a heart for any fate ;

Still achieving, still pursuing,

Learn to labor and to wait.

My goal now is to make my life sublime, wherever I may be. Maybe I am pseudo-discouraged that I am a year behind graduating because of life right now, because I had to come home to heal and am without the majority of my friends, and because (although I am embarrassed to acknowledge it - and won't confess to it on a dare) I am as single as the day I was born...

... But I'll live ;-)

Vita et Mutatio