.... Wednesday Morning.

The time came this morning to take down all of the Christmas decorations in my room.  In a strange burst of energy I jumped up and began to tear all of the ornaments off of my miniature Christmas tree, and I began running around my room gathering up all the excess lights and nativity sets and jingle bells and music boxes.  It only took me about ten whole minutes to finish the whole project.

Now my room looks slightly stark and unfestive but I like it that way.  I need stark.  Stark has an unfortunate connotation, rather negative, and I'm not so sure why.  All it means is that something is a blank canvas.  I like blank canvases.  I like filling them.

It's the 28th of December.  I'm leaving on the 7th of January for Ecola.   You do the math.

My bookshelves are still stinkingly full of books and trinkets, my cds and dvds are all bursting out of my closet with an catalystic force, there's half a pile of clothes set out on my floor and the rest of my wardrobe is scattered between my chaos-reigned dresser drawers, closet, and laundry basket.  I have a small reusable grocery bag full of absent-minded possessions I want to take with me (including the 1989 original LP vinyl soundtrack to Say Anything), and in the guest room is a desk lamp, a twin comforter, an easily-portable laundry bag, and a costco set of two flashlights and a headlamp, in case of power outages.

And that's my life.  I can't even see past those piles right now.

What books am I going to take with me?  What are the possessions I can live without?  Who will keep my typewriter keys from getting dusty while I'm gone?  What about my goldfish?  I can't take a guitar and a banjo with me, can I??????

Stark,  Hannah.  

Minimize the chaos.

Don't forget to breathe.  Take your Bible, a few notebooks, your laptop, your banjo, and 5 of your absolute favorite books.  Only 5.

Wish me luck,  this could prove fatal for me.

Chocolate chips and bottomless cups of coffee,

Xx,
Hannah

Tuesday Morning

Some things I guess  I'll never understand.  Like quantum mechanics, and why the sky is blue instead of purple.  I'll never understand what makes people react the way they do,  and when it comes to family troubles, I will never understand how people can change so suddenly.

I'm never going to understand computers, and I'll probably never understand rocket science.  I may never even fully understand how to drive a stick shift.

Sometimes you take for granted the things that you will be able to understand.  You think that you'll always be able to understand people, for instance.  People you've known since the day you were born,  people you've weathered storms with,  people you've fought with,and made up with, people you've laughed so hard with that you peed a little on yourself on several different occasions.

Here's the ironic part, though.  People are the one thing that we take for granted the most, fooling ourselves into thinking that they're familiar territory and they stand on solid ground.  They don't.  And they're never truly familiar territory.  People are the one part of this life that we understand the absolute least, because nobody can predict the human heart and what it feels so deeply on the inside.  Nobody can forge this territory into submission.  The ground is mobile.

Though I fight so hard against it,  this is a part of life I need to accept.

Today I have my yoga, and my Soul Family.  I have coffee in my immediate future, and books, and writing, and long conversations.  I wish I could throw myself into it without hesitation, but there is a shadow on my thoughts this morning.  A shadow with a history tying it to a part of my life that runs deeper than water underneath earth's surface.

This is the way it's meant to be, though.  I validate the pain, and I validate the reservations even though I don't understand them.

Forgive me for my heartache and the tears threatening to fall at every passing thought.

I know my heartache is minimal compared to yours, but its still real, and I need you to respect that.


With love always,
Hannah

And Mary Said

Quiet time, finally.

Today has been emotional, as Christmas Eves are wont to be every now and then.

Everyone else is asleep in their beds, the world is quiet.  Cinnamon rolls are prepped in the fridge, all the remaining presents and stockings have been wrapped and stuffed.  Burning low in the window is one white candle, guiding Mary in her journey tonight as she searches for shelter to deliver Jesus unto the world.

"Do not be afraid, Mary, for you have found favor with God."

This Christmas Eve I sit with my Bible on my lap, and my eyes wander to the rose-scented Rosary on my bookshelf.  Tonight,  I reflect on Mary.

I reflect on the girl she appeared as.
The woman no one knew her to be.
The fervent servant of God.
The one who found favor with the Lord of Heaven.

I'm sorry to say I've never thought much about Joseph or Mary when it comes to be Christmastime, and that's okay, because the focus should be on the birth of Jesus.  Glory to God in the highest, and on Earth peace toward Men.

Tonight, however, I was struck by the words, "You have found favor with God," at the reading of Luke during a candlelit Christmas Eve service.

Oh,  that I could find that sort of reverent favor with God.

My study Bible has a few things to say about Mary's character:

"Mary is the recipient of God's grace."

"Mary exhibits true discipleship: submission to God's word and promise."

"Mary is blessed for her faith, but she is most blessed for the privilege of bearing the Son of God."

"Mary's entire being is caught up in praise to God."

"Mary herself is not free from sin, but is in need of a savior."

My favorite reference to Mary is found in Luke 2:19,  after the shepherds share what they have been told by Gabriel's host of angels.  "But Mary treasured up all these things,  pondering them in her heart."

My prayer tonight, and from now on,  is that God will open my heart to the strength of faith that Mary had.

That I would be good,  and full of faith,  and God-given grace.  That I would be strong, and unwavering in my trust of the Lord.  Humble and obedient, that I too will find favor with the Lord this blessed Christmas season.

"Blessed is she who believed that there would be a fulfillment of what was spoken to her from the Lord." -Luke 1:45

"And Mary said:
My soul magnifies the Lord, and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior,
For He has looked on the humble estate of His servant.
For behold from now on, all generations will call me blessed,
For He who is mighty has done great things for me, and Holy is His name.
And His mercy is for those who fear Him from generation to generation.
He has shown strength with His arm; He has scattered the proud in the thoughts of their hearts.
He has brought down the mighty from their thrones and exalted those of humble estate;
He has filled the hungry with good things, and the rich He has sent away empty.
He has helped His servant Israel, in remembrance of His mercy,
as He spoke to our fathers,
to Abraham and his offspring forever."

Amen and Amen,

Merry Christmas.

Some Thoughts

Sunday Evening Brain Exercisin'.   I just realized reading that out loud would sound strangely similar to Sunday Evening Brain Exorcisin'.  Typical.

-I wish I was a better writer.

-I wish I had as much diligence towards writing as I do towards keeping my sister's kitchen clean, something at which I am quite professional.

-Nothing says crazy quite like black pants covered in smelly pet hair.

-I wish I wasn't covered in smelly pet hair.

-I wish my sister's dog wasn't so smelly.

-Did I say I wished I was a better writer?

-I wish my niece didn't have nightmares about me leaving without saying goodbye to her.

-I wish I didn't cry so easily.

-I wish I could remember all the words to Songbird so that when I sing them to my nephew,  I don't repeat "For you, there'll be no crying," over and over and over again.

-I wish I could remember what time my flight gets into Portland on Tuesday.

-I can't believe I'm going to see Celine Dion live in concert on January 4th.

-I wish I could make cupcakes without actually having to make them because I am lazy and gluttonous.

-Sometimes I wish I still had an 8:30 bedtime.

Children's Crusade

Then she turned to me, let me see how angry she was, and that the anger was for me.  She had been talking to herself, so what she said was a fragment of a much larger conversation.  "You were just babies then!" She said.
  "What?"  I said.
  "You were just babies in the war- like the ones upstairs!"
       I nodded that this was true.  We  had been foolish virgins in the war, right at the end of childhood.
  "But you're not going to write it that way, are you." This wasn't a question.  It was an accusation.
  "I-I don't know," I said.
  "Well, I know," she said.  "You'll pretend you were men instead of babies, and you'll be played in the movies by Frank Sinatra and John Wayne or some of those other, glamorous, war-loving, dirty old men.  And war will look just wonderful, so we'll have a lot more of them.  And they'll be fought by babies like the babies upstairs."
    So then I understood.  It was war that made her so angry.  She didn't want her babies or anybody else's babies killed in wars.


Kurt Vonnegut.  Slaughterhouse Five.