Rejoice! I shall say it again: rejoice!
{Gratutious Joyful Child Photo}
Bonnie Engstrom, whom I had the pleasure of working with and meeting last year at the Behold Conference, invited me to participate in an Advent series over at her blog, A Knotted Life. It’s one of the few writing “assignments” I said yes to, and I’m glad I did. She gave me Gaudete Sunday, which seemed providential since all Advent long I’ve been receiving messages on how to lead a more joyful life – even in the wake of suffering, hardship, horrific tragedies like what happened in Connecticut, and Poopcassos*. I’ve included a morsel of my post below, but I hope you’ll consider reading the whole thing over at Bonnie’s space.
*A Poopcasso is a baby who, during his naptime, breaks and enters into his poopy diaper and delights in using stinky finger paint all over the walls and crib.
Happiness is all fine and good, but it passes with more frequency than my baby’s bowel movements. And that’s saying a lot considering my little man pooped three times just yesterday. In other words, happiness, which becomes happenstance when translated in Latin, is fleeting and at the whim of life’s circumstances. I feel happy when my husband and I sneak away for a date night – or just share a glass of vino at home before passing out from exhaustion. I’m not so happy when I step on a rogue Lego in bare feet or when all four of my children become nocturnal and offer me anything but a silent night.
Joy, on the other hand, comes from within; it resonates in your soul. You carry it with you even as you stumble through the day like a total “mombie.” Joy remains your companion even as you carry heavy crosses like a cancer diagnosis, the death of a child, or chronic, debilitating pain. I know people who are dealing with these kinds of struggles; yet, they’re still able to laugh, to savor the smallest of blessings in life, and to give thanks for their faith and their life as it is with ickiness, disease, and all. They look beyond the hand life has dealt them – a lousy hand right about now (good luck makes us happy; God makes us joyful even in the face of bad luck), and they choose joy. They choose Him.
That’s what the third Sunday of Advent known as Gaudete Sunday is all about. (Gaudete is Latin for rejoice.) It’s about choosing Him, choosing joy, and rejoicing even when life has you down. It’s about seeing the babe in the manger as more than a sweet symbol but as a gift – the only gift that matters, a vessel of hope. Yes, what’s to come is bigger and better than our limited human intellect could ever imagine. It’s what St. Paul encourages us to do: To consider it all – even the heartache, the burnt cookies, and the nuclear diapers – as joy.
Hiatus
I’ve decided to take a brief blogging break because, well, it’s Advent (for a few more days anyway), and I’m trying to focus on seeking Him. We have just a few days left of this waiting season, and I don’t want to rush through it. There are no more hours to my day; yet, there’s so much more to do during this season. With the limited free time I have, I’d rather cozy up with the two men in my life than rack my brains for something to blog about (words have not been coming as easily to me lately):
And I plan on reading lots of Advent books and baking batches of cookies to share with neighbors and family with the little girls in my life:
There’s also a Christmas Eve tapas feast to prepare for since we’re hosting dinner at our home for the first time ever. I still have gifts to wrap and a few more cards to write out. There are hymns to be sung and prayers to be prayed.
Despite a looming, long list of to-dos, I don’t feel overwhelmed. I want to keep it that way.
I have a friend who lost her precious baby, Juliana, at 24 weeks last Wednesday. This was her fourth baby as well. I wept for all this grieving mother would miss, and then I wondered what all I could be missing by trying to squeeze in too much to days with a finite number of hours. I’ve known so many friends who have lost babies recently. I’ve had other friends struggle for infertility for years. I pray for them. I mourn for them. I hope for them. But I want to live for them, too. I want to make the most of these blessings in my home.
A few days later I heard the tragic news that one of God’s most faithful servants, Father Santan Pinto, had been suddenly called home when he died instantly in a car accident.
This life of ours is so tenuous.
God seems to use certain seasons to teach me the same old lessons that I, in my human weakness, ignore too often. This Advent has been all about taking a deep breath, taking it all in, and not taking anything – even the loudness, the chaos, the sugar highs followed by sugar comas, and the mountains of spilled sprinkles from a cookie-decorating-session-gone-wrong – for granted.
This week we have nothing planned other than one speech therapy appointment. My mom decided to come and visit, too. I can’t wait! I’m just giddy with excitement at the prospect of being home with my kids and their Gaba. Thomas won’t have to take his morning nap on the run. We’ll have quiet storytime afternoons. I’m sure Madeline, my industrious, little elf, will be eager to help me wrap gifts. The girls also want to make puppets to go along with Merry Christmas, Strega Nona
We’ll still be busy, but we don’t have much of a binding agenda.
It’s not only nice to press pause sometimes; it’s necessary. We all need a respite from the daily grind and the tyranny of to-dos. It’s in these unfilled, unplanned, and precious moments where we make real, lasting memories. It’s our homes where we discover in the rush-free, hushed mornings that what we’ve been seeking – peace, the Prince of Peace – has been with us all along.
So I’ll go ahead and prematurely wish all of you a happy Christmas. Peace and joy to you all!!!
An Advent Tea
Yesterday the girls and I hosted our inaugural Advent tea. We opened our home – and our hearts – to some of our good homeschooling friends, including one who traveled over an hour to be with us.
I could not have asked for a more perfect day. We ended up having 13 ladies join us, and there was nary a spill or shriek or anything chaotic in the least.
I didn’t get around to making the cheddar muffins I mentioned in my planning menu (posted at QT # 4 here) but with the ready help of Madeline, we made everything else. The spinach balls and chocolate pound cake courtesy of the Cake Doctor
Speaking of Madeline, not only was she a lovely hostess, but she woke up extra early all on her own the day of the tea and voluntarily vacuumed the entire house as well as wiped down all of our seats and the table. Rachel was a big help as well.
And Mary Elizabeth did not try to kill herself – not even once! (In the past week, I’ve caught her running with a knife, stuffing a ball from a magic trick kit into her mouth that was the perfect size for blocking her airway, and dancing along a narrow strip of wood that runs parallel to a flight of stairs down to our basement. I never thought the twos were so terrible until now. She’s full of spunk and deliciously cute, but she’s also terribly dangerous and defiant at times.)
Getting ready for our guests
