A reason to be grateful

Today was a great day. I got up early as usual. I took Max and Grace to school as usual. I spent most of my day babysitting, with a few hours of free time interspersed. As usual.

So, why was it a great day, might you ask? I went to Bible study. I went there and was struck with the single thought that, here in Seattle, I have finally found a community. A community of mature, 20-something women--plus our wonderful leader, Megan. A community where I can be open and honest and REAL. That said, I don't always feel comfortable being open and honest and real, but I'm working toward it. I want to be that way so very desperately. I'm realizing how deprived I've been in recent years without weekly fellowship with a specific group of people. And now I have it. What a blessing.

C.S. Lewis, Slippers, and Picture Frames

It's Christmas day, and I'm immersed in a book called The Problem of Pain. There's something wrong with this picture; or at least, it seems that way. Christmas is a day for celebration and joy and family time, and I'm reading a book about pain? Yikes.

Well, here's my reasoning:

1. It's written by C.S. Lewis. :P

This is yet another of those books that has been subjected to the enthusiastic markings of my pen. I can't help it. Nearly everything he writes resonates so deeply within me that I simply must underline for the sake of ingraining and, then, remembering later on.

Here's just a snippet:

"Everyone has noticed how hard it is to turn our thoughts to God when everything is going well with us. We 'have all we want' is a terrible saying when 'all' does not include God. We find God an interruption. As St. Augustine says somewhere, 'God wants to give us something, but cannot, because our hands are full--there's nowhere for Him to put it.' Or as a friend of mine said, 'We regard God as an airman regards his parachute; it's there for emergencies but he hopes he'll never have to use it.' Now God, who has made us, knows what we are and that our happiness lies in Him. Yet we will not seek it in Him as long as He leaves us any other resort where it can even plausibly be looked for. While what we call 'our own life' remains agreeable we will not surrender it to Him. What then can God do in our interests but make 'our own life' less agreeable to us, and take away the plausible source of false happiness? It is just here, where God's providence seems at first to be most cruel, that the Divine humility, the stooping down of the Highest, most deserves praise" (The Problem of Pain, 94).


I think that paragraphs speaks for itself. Read this book.

And now on to Christmas-ier stuff. Last night, my brothers and I opened a few gifts. All four of us received slippers/moccasins from our mom and dad. I love the style of mine, although the big fat bows made me want to gag, so my mom graciously helped me take them off with seam rippers. I put the slippers on and noticed that one slipper's opening is much larger than the other slipper's. Only I, the perfectionist to the umpteenth degree, would notice something like that. And only I would be bothered by it for the next two hours. I'm sitting here now, wearing them once again, and I still have to force myself not to look at them with that ever-present critical eye of mine. It doesn't have to look perfect, it doesn't have to look perfect...

As I write this, I realize that above paragraph probably makes me look terribly ungrateful. Let me clarify that I'm not ungrateful in the least. I just have to jump over the hurdle that is my perfectionism and learn to accept that unevenness and other such extremely important issues are facts of life. :P

This year, my brothers and I "went all out" for my parents' Christmas gift. We decided to put together a collage of pictures of us four kids. It took a lot of hours and our fair share of bickering before we could look at the picture frame with the 12 photos in it and declare it to be finished. But, you know what? This is by far the best Christmas gift we've given our parents. It took hard work, collaboration, and thought. Usually, we find a good book we think they'll like or a movie or something. But this one was special. After we had opened all our gifts, my mom hung the frame on the wall. She keeps staring at the pictures, as she passes by or as she cooks food, and that makes me happy. I know we've given her--and my dad--something they'll both be able to enjoy every day.

Without question, Christmas doesn't have the same feel it used to have. I don't lie sleepless in my bed on Christmas Eve, praying for morning to come. I don't anticipate the day itself for months in advance. I don't even listen to Christmas music nonstop like I used to. But it's still a special day. I primarily enjoy it now because I am reminded of Jesus' amazing arrival on earth and of my family's love for me.

Speaking of my family, it's time for me to go join them. I do believe a standing rib roast is calling my name. :D

Sometimes I wish I hadn't grown up in a Christian home

Since I was six years old, I've known the story of Jesus feeding the five thousand. Same with the story of Esther, the story of Jacob and Rachel, and even the story of Jesus' very death on the cross. I learned and relearned these stories a thousand times in Sunday School, at various Vacation Bible Schools, at youth group, at youth rallies, etc. I learned them until my heart became calloused to their messages, and I regarded them as stories from the Bible and not much more than that. I was so familiar with them that they no longer held much meaning for me.

But now, as I have been reading through the Bible with more purpose, understanding, and maturity, I have discovered that no modern-day storybook can compare to the Bible in its collection of amazing stories. And I wish that it hadn't taken me half of my lifetime to see it. I think, maybe if I hadn't been inundated with these stories from all directions I would have learned to appreciate them for what they are: remarkable testimonies--in all shapes and sizes, involving all different kinds of people--of God's enduring love, justice, and deliverance.

Maybe it took me so long because I was accustomed to the stripped down versions of Bible stories that hardly did justice to the story's true message. Queen Esther saved her people by appearing before her husband, the king, unsummoned. What a brave servant of God! The end.

Anyway, I suppose it doesn't really matter now, because I've finally started breaking out of that apathy I was experiencing. And I certainly am very grateful for the way my parents raised me, and I wouldn't trade my upbringing for any other upbringing in the world. But a small part of me occasionally wonders how my attitude toward the Bible would be different if I hadn't grown up in a Christian home. If the stories would be more real to me, more awe-inspiring.