And So This is Christmas

Last weekend, Nancy came out to visit me in Omaha. We went out to dinner that Friday night and started a list of things to do and people to shop for over the course of the weekend.

1. Restore Nicole's Christmas Joy.

Nancy's visit certainly helped usher in its return, but even with her around to cheer me up, my heart has stayed in an unusually dismal state for this season. It's very odd. No matter what the condition of my heart before Thanksgiving, the minute Advent hits I'm usually completely joyful and excited about the holidays. It's usually my favorite time of the year. But this year has been really different.

I've been praying for a renewed focus on the heart of it all. That's helped a little. But, all in all, I've just felt off.

A lot of it had to do with the fact that we weren't able to go to Ohio this year. We typically spend Christmas in Cleveland with the Palofs and the Prekops, my Aunt Linda's family. It's basically the only time I get to see them anymore. So I was bummed about that. So were they. I just talked to my cousin Hillary, who said she missed us so much yesterday. She wanted to play some get-together games (her specialty), but the rest of the family left by 7:00. "It was so lame," she said. "Instead, I had to do dishes. It was awful."

But for as sad as we've been to not be in Ohio, it was nice to be home and to go to my own church on Christmas. Last night, the Christmas Eve service was held up in Middle. It was nice to go to church at night. I don't know why. It was even nicer to be able to hug and visit with familiar faces. I really love the Amana Church. There's just something about sitting in that simple sanctuary, knowing that my mother grew up there, that my Oma grew up there, that her mother and the mother before her all spent their Sundays there. It was very beautiful to me to sing "Silent Night" in German, together as a community.

And then this morning at church, I was inspired. I had woken up in a sorry state. Still anxious, still bummed. Natalie and Kevin were getting ready to leave to go to his family's, and I was already getting sad about having to head back to Omaha tomorrow. I just felt like crap. I felt guilty for feeling so crappy on Christmas, but I couldn't help it. But then I went to church, this time in main Amana. We sat on the end of the pew, and I couldn't even see the elder preach. But I could hear him. I stared out the window in front of me, with the candle and the greenery in the ledge, and the sun shining through the shade. I listened to the choir, led by my dear Kristie, sing "I love to tell the story!/'Twill be my theme in glory/To tell the old, old story/Of Jesus and His love." And, slowly but surely, my Christmas joy came back to me. Halfway through the sermon, the elder preached, "Do you find yourself depressed at Christmas?" I started to tear up... Yes... He went on to encourage us to choose joy and to simply celebrate what God has done.

So that has been my focus today. I'm still really sad to have to leave tomorrow, I'm still stressed and anxious about a lot of the same junk, but I also have a renewed sense of joy...

Abstraction

Wednesday, December 5, 2007...

A girl looks out of the window from an airplane
20,000 feet up in the sky
She picks a rooftop in the center of the town
And wonders what is happening inside…
…The TV in the kitchen flashes faces,
A woman slowly pushes in the chairs.
Her neighbor’s son is fighting in the army.
She’s concentrating to remember where…

Who can know the pain, the joy, the regret, the satisfaction?
Who can know the love of one life, one heart, one soul?
At two you’re at abstraction…
-Sara Groves

I am writing this from that 20,000 feet up in the sky. I’m obviously not posting this from here, but I am writing. I’m somewhere past Milwaukee, en route to Baltimore. I’ve never been so excited to see Elaine in my life. She and her baby, Elizabeth, are my roommates for this conference, and they’re likely nestled in at the Marriott by now. I should be, too. It’s been a long day of travel, and there really hasn’t been that much actual movement involved. I got to the Omaha airport too early, and that flight was slightly delayed, so I found myself with two hours to kill there, and I hadn’t even left the city yet. I occupied myself with my latest issue of Relevant and a phone conversation with Tauna. The flight was quick, and I was in Milwaukee just in time to make my collecting flight. That flight, however, wasn’t in time for me, delayed in Raleigh.

And as I went to check the monitor for an update on my flight, I overheard something about Omaha on the news. And when I saw what it was, my heart stopped. I just kept saying, “Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God.”

This afternoon was one of the loneliest of my life. No one else at gate 51 seemed at all concerned with what had happened at Westroads Mall this afternoon. My phone has been having problems lately, so I couldn’t spend much time talking to the outside world. I just sat and waited for what turned out to be nearly three hours. Alone.

Ann called at one point, and was thankful to hear my voice. With all of her Omaha connections, she was audibly shaken on the other end of the line when we talked about the details. I’ve been trying not to think about it. It’s just too close to home. I go to that mall all the time. We were just there on Sunday. I just paid my Von Maur bill this morning. I can’t even imagine what a situation like this would be like. I don’t want to.

And so I’m in the sky now, and my heart is broken and afraid. Today is living proof that we never know what’s around the corner, good or bad. This solidifies my desperate need for a God who does know, a God who is already there. It’s so easy to doubt the presence of God when stories like this happen all over the globe. I have no answers to the “why, God?” questions. I’m as prone to doubt and as prone to fear as anyone.

But when I’m in the sky, looking at the sea of abstraction below me, I still can’t help but be in awe of the Story. Even in the midst of unspeakable evil, I sense the presence of God. The lights in Milwaukee were enough to make me tremble at the scope of it all. Each home, each car, each store and lamppost hold countless stories, stories that I will likely never encounter in my lifetime. And that’s just in one city alone. My small mind can’t begin to comprehend the millions and millions of stories—heartaches, joys, and fears—that are all being played out in this world at any given moment. Outside of myself, it’s all an abstraction. Sure, I have a sense of the pain, the joys, and the regrets of those who are close to me, but I will never know the feelings in their gut or the things they daydream about. In a way, we are very isolated beings. But yet we’re never truly alone. And for that I am thankful.

I have no idea what state I am flying over right now, or what city is lit up beneath me. I know that this world is a scary, scary place to be sometimes, and I often feel like the devil is winning… But somehow, from this vantage point, I still know, somehow, that God is good.

***

The Present

I had intended to post that last piece long before today. But since it cost $10 to use the Internet in our hotel room, Elaine and I both decided to do without. So, I apologize for this disconnected entry. It's the best I can offer.

I am now back from Baltimore. I had a better time there than I could've anticipated. The conference (the National Assembly of State Arts Agencies) was interesting and relevant, and I was able to make some good connections. Plus, I really had a lot of fun! I went on a historic tour of the Mount Vernon district, went to the Walters Art Museum, the Visionary Art Center, and the Baltimore Museum of Art, and even had the chance to visit the National Aquarium. When I first got to my hotel Wednesday night, I found myself in the elevator with some people from Tennessee, one of whom turned out to be my old buddy Keith, whom Kristin and I met three years ago at Pearl database training in Minneapolis. I was really glad to know someone at the conference (other than my Nebraska co-horts, of course), and when he mentioned he was going to the aquarium on Friday, I decided to tag along. Between all of that, the Midnight Edgar Allen Poe tour Suzanne, Kathy and I went on, and all of the baby time I had with Elaine's daughter Elizabeth, there was never a dull moment.

It was good to get away. I found that for the few days I was gone, I had stopped worrying about some of the things I've been worrying about lately. I was in a bit of a time warp. I forgot that Christmas is coming, forgot about my To-Do list, and forgot about the feelings of depression that have occassionally been creeping back into the picture.

This vacation reminded me- this time in a positive, hopeful sort of way- that it's true that you never know what's around the corner...