Giving Thanks, Part 2

I have been cranky all week, and this makes me so, so thankful for grace.

I titled my last post “Giving Thanks, Part 1” so that I would be, in a sense, required to write a “Giving Thanks, Part 2” about my Thanksgiving weekend at home. It turns out that the holiday was pretty low-key, and there isn’t a whole lot to write about there. But the need for me to write about my personal "Thanksgiving" has transcended the holiday...

It was good to see Ann and Ben on Wednesday, as always. I enjoyed Turkey Day with Mom, Dad, Nancy, Uncle Bruce, and Audrey. I was able to spend some time with the Knox family Saturday morning, had lunch with Hollan at the Hacienda, and spent some quality time in Amana, visiting the Tannenbaum Forest with Nancy and doing some early Christmas shopping with Mom. Tauna even came to stay the night on Saturday en route from Illinois to Minnesota. Add Natalie, Kevin and their dog Izzie to the mix, and it was an eventful evening.

All in all, it was a great weekend in eastern Iowa. But now I’m back in Omaha, and, for a variety of reasons, I am cranky.

This morning I drove to work and started to cry, humbled by the old, old Story and the generosity of grace when I really, really don’t deserve one ounce of it. I worry too much. I regret too much. I agonize over every decision. I get homesick and I get lonely and I make a big stink out of both. I cry to God with a “woe is me” mentality far too often. I am spoiled. I have a guilt complex. I don’t pray enough, and then complain when my heart’s desires aren’t met.

My life is so, so good, and in the grand scheme of things I have nothing to complain about. The blessings are all gifts. The perceived lack thereof is just that: misperception. I cry and moan about missing my family or about being single or about being (temporarily) frustrated with my job. I’m cranky because I’m no good at sacrifice. I don’t truly know the meaning of the word, and I get bitter when I’m asked to do it. I’m a terribly selfish creature who is blessed far beyond I could ever deserve, and yet I throw fits (if only in my head) when things don’t go as I have planned. I’m a control freak. I get stressed too easily. I’m too sensitive.

I’m a broken woman.

But it is in these moments of complete and utter brokenness that I most see my need for redemption in Jesus. On Saturday, Aroea and I pored over an old box of photos she had found, and my heart cringed at the pictures of people I knew in high school and had forgotten about. Bitterness and insecurity flooded over me uncontrollably, and I don’t know why. Somewhere over the course of our expedition, Aroea looked at a photo of some CCA girls and simply stated, “That’s why we all need Jesus.” I can’t remember what prompted her to say that, but it was true. None of us are exempt.

Last night, I had the privilege to once again attend Andrew Peterson’s "Behold the Lamb of God" Christmas concert. It was, as always, amazing. Last night’s concert was even better than the two years before because one of his guests was none other than Sara Groves. The thing about these singer/songwriter types is that their concerts aren’t so much performances, but more like conversations with friends. I was blessed to hear the stories, in song, of Andrew, Sara, Andy Gullahorn, Jill Phillips, Bebo Norman, and Andrew Osenga. It reminded me of the sheer beauty of faith. Andrew Peterson reminded me of how we’re all broken, and all in need of love. Sara Groves told stories of courage that most of us in our American lives can’t even comprehend. Bebo Norman encouraged the church as a whole to lay it all down in the name of serving the broken. Jill Phillips shared about how God works through grief and Andy Gullahorn simply made us laugh with his honesty.

But the best part of all was the beautiful way they all told the Christmas Story, and I was reminded of the truth and beauty behind it. The mercy and grace came that came down in Bethlehem astounds me—a broken, tattered, cranky soul in desperate need for redemption. It is a privilege to have been invited into this old, old Story.

How can I be anything but thankful?

P.S. Andrew Peterson has been posting clips from the "Behold the Lamb of God" Live DVD on his blog. So, if you're interested in seeing what this show is all about, click here.

Giving Thanks, Part 1

Dear Tauna and Natalee,

Since you two are among my most faithful readers, I know this will reach you: I am sorry to both of you for not responding to your letters. Here I have these two friends who have decided to bring back the art of letter writing in the digital age, and I have royally dropped the ball. I humbly apologize, and promise to write to you both - on paper - soon.

My excuse is generic, but true: Life has been crazy busy these days.

Last weekend was filled with the Chris Tomlin concert, a visit from Hollan to see Tori Amos (we wound up with front row seats!), and a visit from my parents and Natalie to join Charlotte and Matt(hew) and I at Spamalot. And that was just last weekend alone.

This past week/end I had work-related events at the Rose and the Joslyn; a girls' night that involved Fazoli's, Princess crowns, a gerber daisy and falling asleep to Elf on Tabitha's couch; and Charlotte's parents and brother were in town from Colorado.

As if that weren't enough, our life group decided to have a Thanksgiving dinner Sunday night out at Jordan's Place. In the midst of all the activity, it was nice to just be, to sit around with good friends, good fun, and good foosball.

I know it's very cliche of me to write about being thankful at Thanksgiving time, but I am. Sunday night was absolutely lovely. It was fun to get dressed up, to share a meal, and to be in fellowship. The women were in charge of the food (congrats to Beth and Charlotte on an excellent turkey) and the guys were in charge of the entertainment. They orchestrated a game of biblical charades (you would've loved it, Tauna!) and brought a couple of gingerbread house kits for us to assemble. Charlotte, Tabitha and I worked on one together, and it was fun to get messy with the frosting! Our poor house had trouble staying together, but this was one case where the process was definitely more important than the product.

I've always felt there is something rather grown-up about celebrating holidays with friends. We are all now at an age when we can choose, in a sense, the family that we surround ourselves with. I always enjoyed the Sunday before Thanksgiving at Mount Mercy, when we would all dress up and head over to Hennessey for a communal dinner. I think of senior year, when Staci Mae, Emily, Tauna and I stayed in our apartment over Christmas break longer than most and ushered in Christmas together with movie marathons, a living nativity on Collins Road, and a big pot of spaghetti. Whether they're in Omaha, in Iowa, in Minnesota, or elsewhere, I am so thankful for the family of friends that God has given me.

And that's all there is to it.