In Case You Didn't Get a Christmas Card

You must keep choosing truth or the rest of it is pointless…

I have a membership to the Art Institute of Chicago—going on two years now. A friend said I should, and a few months later, I did. It’s not because I love art or really old furniture. It’s because everyone needs a place. A place of refuge to sort out the truth from the lies. A place to read and journal in peace but not too much peace. A place to be inspired. In Seattle, it was Three Tree Point. In Chicago, it’s the Art Institute. Very different, but for me, very much the same.

I was there last week. The strangers wait in line, but I walk right in. They have a member lounge with free coffee and tea. During the months of November and December, there is also hot chocolate. I like to roam the floors before I head to lounge. I people watch and listen in on foreign tongues.  

Eventually I find my place at the bar sipping cocoa and staring at a wall. I read a bit to set the mood, and then I sit back and wonder about my life. This particular day, I review my past year. Highlights. Lowlights. Mostly lowlights. Mostly because I made them that way. I spend the rest of my time thinking about Earl Palmer and my week in Oxford studying C.S.Lewis. I’ve spent days thinking about this particular week. Something about it.

C.S. didn’t become a Christian until he was 32. He didn’t get married until he was 58. He didn’t fall in love until 59. He was frequently depressed and often poor—giving away most of his money. But, the man had friends. Good friends. And he was a good friend—the best I’ve ever heard of. He was patient in his life but always seeking. He was mellow.

I’ve been feeling that way a lot lately. Mellow. I think it’s because I know I’m going to keep changing, keep seeking, keep making decisions, and then keep changing my mind. I am not putting my weight down on any one place or job or person. I finally understand that the Gospel allows me to be free of that pressure. When I put my weight down on truth, it makes sense out of everything. It illuminates all the scenes I’ve already seen and pulls them together. It makes everything else settle down. It allows me to be mellow.

How thankful I am for this truth. It is where life begins and anxiety dissolves.

May you find a bit of truth this season in whatever form it’s delivered. You can never quite guess.

Lies my devil told me

I was sitting on a desk in a colleague’s classroom. Thursday afternoon. School was over, and I was probably complaining about something, as this seems to be my greatest feat this year. I complain really well.

I didn’t want to talk to any more students. Five more days and this school year will be over. 

A student waving in the hall caught my attention. She was waving at me. What does she want? Does she want to know how to bring her grade up with one more day of class left? Does she want an extra copy of something she lost? Am I going to have to get up and do something for her? I waved her in, as it was my duty.

“I was going to wait to give this to you tomorrow, but here.” She held out her hand to give me something. I reached out and cupped her gift. A Ferrero Rocher chocolate. I could tell she was really excited to give this to me, so much so, she couldn’t wait another day. She had this chocolate planned for me. Immediately I felt so undeserving of the hazelnut goodness. I had just been dreading her visit, and here, all she wanted to do was give me this gift.

Anger bought this year from me, and I gave it up for cheap. The idea of a location completely changing the person you are, I never thought that’d be me. I thought I knew God well enough—well enough to stay mellow. But as it is, I dread everything. Even gifts. And I aged. It’s noticeable. So many wrinkles, and it’s all my fault. You can go home again, but you can’t return to who you were 10 years ago, and you can’t remain who you’ve been the past six years. And so I end up tired and angry and lost. I end up falling short of many expectations, including my own, and 100 pounds heavier. I feel like everybody wants to tell me, I’m not who they expected. Everybody wants to tell me they thought I’d bring more joy or humor. But all I bring is dread. 

But I can’t stop thinking about Thursday. I can’t stop thinking about how much I dreaded the girl in the hallway. I can’t stop thinking about how I wanted to send her away. And I can’t stop thinking about what happened next.