The day the sun didn't rise

Today the sun did not rise over San Francisco. 

Murky gray-orange haze filtered through my bedroom window instead of the cheerful sun and I stirred, disoriented and confused.

I completed my morning routine sluggishly, stepping out onto the back porch with my coffee to take it all in. The birds were not chirping or eating the grass seed my husband planted the other day. Even they were confused. 

The day grew darker with each passing hour, reaching its darkest state by about 1 o’clock in the afternoon. I wanted to crawl back into bed. Every bit of my routine felt off from working, to eating, to lessons with the kids. I honestly didn’t want to do any of it. One of my clients was spot on when she said she felt claustrophobic. That’s EXACTLY how it felt! Uncomfortable, unnatural, squeezed, held down, confined, unsettled, choky, dread. 

I didn’t see the sun all day; not even a filtered ball of red. It was completely covered from my view, and what I realized is how much I rely on the sun to govern the comings and goings of my day. Naturally, the sun tells me when to rise and when to rest, but what I experienced today made me realize that it’s faithful presence and progression in the sky unconsciously guides my daily activities.  

Then I heard God whisper to me about his Son, Jesus. Aren’t you thankful you live your life guided by my Son?

I’m so grateful for Jesus. I pledged my allegiance to Him many years ago and have lived every day since then walking in the free gift of his redemption, won for me through His death and resurrection. 

Not seeing the sun today was disorienting. How much more would my life be without Jesus, the Son, orienting my beliefs, priorities, and actions? Indeed, my life before Him was a murky gray haze guided by my own selfish desires. How much do I need Jesus! How disoriented my life becomes when I do not regard God and thank Him for being a fountain of wisdom, peace, and grace for living each and every day.

I’ve been listening to hymns a lot lately and this one rose up in my heart as my prayer today, that I would live every day, every moment of my life oriented by the Son.  

I Need Thee

Written by Annie S. Hawks and Robert Lowry, 1872 

I need thee every hour, 

Most Gracious Lord;

No tender voice like Thine

Can peace afford

I need Thee every hour

Stay Thou near by;

Temptations lose their power

When Thou art nigh. 

I need Thee every hour, 

In joy or pain;

Come quickly and abide,

Or life is vain. 

I need Thee every hour, 

Teach me Thy will;

And Thy rich promises

In me fulfill. 

I need Thee every hour, 

Most Holy One;

Oh, make me Thine indeed,

Thou blessed Son. 

I need thee, Oh I need thee

Every hour I need thee

Oh, bless me now, my Savior!

I come to thee. 

Light

I was born on winter solstice, the darkest day of the year. The short days of winter aren’t so bad while everyone has their Christmas lights up and evenings are filled with events that warm body and spirit. But when the new year arrives with quiet evenings and cold temperatures, the short days become more difficult to bear.

Monday I noticed the light is beginning to change . The sky was a pastel palette of pink and orange and baby blue all blending into one another as I drove south on 280 at dinner time.

My spirit responded in humble praise:

Thank you for the light returning.

Every week the lightness of my soul,

lifted,

carried,

A little bit longer.

Type B (a poem)

I wrote this poem at the end of a long day. The words sprang up from my heart, and perfectly captured the inner wrestling I feel as a parent of young children.

They say I’m a Type A person,

And on the outside, that may well be.

But beyond the noise and the doing,

Type B beckons to me.

Type B is less inclined to talk,

She’d rather just observe.

She's content to sit by the side of a stream

while her little ones listen for birds.

Type B doesn’t worry about dinner,

or lists, or keeping things clean.

She’s fully engaged in the moment she’s in,

and it is there her eyes truly see.

The bluebird, darting back and forth,

to and from the enormous oak tree.

The creativity of her children,

as they turn mulch into lemonade-tea.

The scales are shed.

Type A put to bed,

for a moment I can finally breathe.

How I long for Type B to be constant.

My alter-ego to stay for a while.

And then it strikes me,

perhaps Type B IS my true self.

And all this “A” stuff is just a disguise…

Off with it!

Away!

Shed these layers!

Say good-bye!

Farewell to you, once and for all.

No more competing, achieving,

aching and bleeding.

I’m ready to be done with it all.

Now, hideout, and listen,

Come away, hear My whisper

and emerge, restored from The Fall.

I don’t need to perform to gain His approval,

He loves me just as I am.

Just me.

Type B.

Still heart.

Set free.

Finally free to be me.

Anticipating Advent

It is the eve of Advent. My home and my heart are ready. I laid out the decorations today and not just the Christmas decorations, mind you.

No.

The Advent items that serve as a reminder to my soul of what this season is really about. How is it that I forgot them for so many years?

I’ve been a Jesus follower since I was four years old, but it wasn’t until a few years ago that my heart began to long for a way to escape the materialism of Christmas and go back to the roots of a faith-filled holiday. 

Coming.

Yes.

That is what it means after all. Advent is the time when we remember His coming, as Ann Voskamp says so beautifully,

“He who carved the edges of the cosmos curved Himself into a fetal ball in the dark, tethered Himself to the uterine wall of a virgin, and lets his cells divide, light splitting all white… The mystery so large becomes the Baby so small, and infinite God becomes infant.”

A few years ago I picked up her Advent devotional: The Greatest Gift. I’ll be reading it again, but this time using the family version with my children.

Last night, I started telling Maddie the story using a peg doll nativity that she can safely hold and play with. I told her about Mary and the angel, using the dolls to illustrate the scene. It was special. My heart radiates with joy when I think about getting to share the most important story in the world with my young daughter.

We will hang ornaments each day on our Jesse Tree, creating a visual reminder of the story of Christ’s coming from Adam to Jesus.

It used to be when I read the gospel of Matthew, I would skip over the boring genealogy in chapter 1. Now I am awestruck when I read it, amazed at God’s divine intention all the way from the beginning.

He gets his way and Christ comes from the lineage of broken humanity: liars, cheaters, adulterers, prostitutes, and foreigners. Each one grafted in to His great redemption story.

We’ll light a candle, too, each night on our Advent wreath as a reminder that we are drawing closer to His coming, or as I told Maddie today, “the best birthday ever.”

Observing Advent is a step I am taking away from the commercialization of Christian holidays and toward creating a meaningful liturgy for my family that recognizes the holy seasons of Christianity. For too long I've celebrated the most holy days of my faith following the traditions of our culture - Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny, egg hunts, and cinnamon rolls - while leaving behind the observances that have been a part of the Christian story for generations.

 Not anymore.

I'm longing for something more for my family and I'm hopeful it will change the Christmas experience for me and my kids forever.