It's Christmas Again

Almost exactly a year ago, on Christmas Eve, I wrote these words in another blog post:

In the end, then, Christmas is about making much of small things. Christmas is about remembering that sometimes God's perspective is different than ours. Christmas is about commemorating the tiny, the tangible, and the real. And Christmas is about celebrating one lone event that, in the whole wide expanse of history, really did matter.

Now, twelve months later, these words seem more true than ever. Sometimes I plod along in the dark, only able to see the next task that lies directly in front of me. And even that next task is often too difficult and things don't turn out the way I plan or want or expect.

But sometimes, for a fleeting moment, I'm given a glimpse of the bigger picture, of the tapestry built from these fragmented pieces, those events that I didn't choose and the people that I couldn't control and the timing that I didn't like. Sometimes, and especially at this time of year, I'm reminded how very significant each of those shards really is.

And this season is perhaps the best time to stand back and admire, for just a moment, the bigger picture, as we celebrate the passing of this year and past years and look forward to the coming of the new. So, in the midst of the traveling and shopping and visiting and celebrating, as you sit among your family and friends, take a few minutes to savor the beauty that the last few months and years and decades have built.

Remember all of those pieces that seemed inconvenient or messy or troublesome. Acknowledge the pain and irritation and hurt and frustration. Then savor the abundance that emerged from the scraps. Because ultimately, Christmas is about celebrating the unexpected twist in the tale, about recognizing the beauty that comes from an overlooked corner, and about a miracle that happened in a manger.

Movie Review: Ides of March

Every now and then, I find a movie that eludes the standard categories and predictable plot lines, a movie that sticks with me for months, if not years.


Ides of March was such a movie. The phenomenal acting, intense plot, and captivating lines combined to create a memorable story, brilliantly directed by George Clooney. Stephen Meyers (played by Ryan Gosling) is a young idealist working on a presidential primary campaign for the driven, intelligent Mike Morris (George Clooney). Conflict in the movie arises as the personal, political, and professional ambitions of the characters collide and the Ohio presidential primary draws near.

*Photo Credit: http://www.imdb.com/title/tt1124035/

Although I won't give away the ending, I will warn any potential viewers that the movie was not light-hearted. The themes are heavy and the ending is dark. Some movies allow viewers to walk away with a bright vision of the world. Not so with Ides of March.

In a good story, the characters have choices. In Ides of March, the characters consistently make the wrong ones. Not once, not twice, but every time a character in this movie is faced with the choice between their welfare and the well-being of another, between ambition and compassion, between an easy lie and a hard truth, they take the wrong turn.

And the most terrifying part of this movie is that the bad choices, the wrong choices, even the inhumane choices, are never hard to make. It's easy to relate to the characters and sometimes it's even easy to justify their choices. And then when disaster strikes as the moral fall-out from their decisions ensues, viewers will feel awkwardly surprised because, like the characters, they didn't see the fall-out coming.

I walked away from Ides of March feeling uncomfortable, not because I was shocked by the behavior of the characters, but because I didn't feel shocked enough. In the world of Ides of March, betrayal was all too easy. Audiences will walk away uncomfortably uncertain that, faced with the same choices, we would behave any differently. And this discomfort is possibly the most redeeming feature of Clooney's movie.

A Year Ago...

A few evenings ago, as some friends and I sat in my living room talking, each of us reflected on the changes that had occurred over the past 12 months in our individual lives. This was the second time in just a few days that the topic had arisen, so I made a list.

Here are just a few things that have changed in my life in a brief year. One year ago, I:

• was planning (what I thought would be) my last semester of graduate classes.
• was expecting to finish my M.A. in English in May 2011.
• was spending a lot of time wondering what people with two English degrees did to produce income.
• had no idea that I was about to agree to move 500 miles away for a job entirely unrelated to my degree.
• was writing a lot of idiotic things in my journal.
• was writing a lot of true things in my journal.
• never dreamed I would agree to rappel off of a cliff.
• had never made bread.
• was a lot less brave.
• had never eaten crab-cakes.
• knew a lot less about grace.
• had never lived without a mental deadline.
• didn't know that I could successfully navigate a busy weekend without electricity.

So here's to another year filled with good books, coffee, friends, unplanned adventures, grace, and lots of good stories! What surprising changes has the past year held for you?

Friday Linkage

Enjoy these links while you're keeping warm on this brilliant cool autumn weekend!

• In a world of narcissism, this woman's tale of her birthday provided a refreshing contrast.
• One quote from Relevant's recent article on inevitable failure particularly resounded with me: "Because of my failures, I don’t deserve anything good. But good keeps coming my way. That’s not a reflection of my character or timing or anything else. But it is a reflection of the character of God."

• Andree Seu's recent post on rejecting emotional baggage was a gentle, yet convicting, reminder.
• I discovered some simple tips for eliminating excess spending.
• In a world cynical about relationships, this lovely tale of unlikely love was an encouragement.
• Between Blue Rocks offers a lovely reminder to acknowledge the beauty around us.
• The product of an idealistic liberal-arts education, I related to this author's experience.

A Cup of Chesterton

Sometimes rambling and venting and writing are soothing and useful. Words tumble frantically onto a page as I sort out the racing in my mind and the jumbling in my heart. But sometimes an empty cup needs to be filled.

Sometimes, when the words just won't sort themselves into sentences and the thoughts won't arrange themselves into paragraphs, the solution lies not in my pen but in my books.

And so, on this quiet fall evening, I hope these words of G.K. Chesterton, full of far more wisdom than I possess, bring you as much calm and insight as they have bestowed on me.

"You have not wasted your time; you have helped to save the world. We are not buffoons, but very desperate men at war with a vast conspiracy."

"To love means loving the unlovable. To forgive means pardoning the unpardonable. Faith means believing the unbelievable. Hope means hoping when everything seems hopeless."

“The most incredible thing about miracles is that they happen.” 

“Always be comic in a tragedy. What the deuce else can you do?” 

“What embitters the world is not excess of criticism, but an absence of self-criticism.” 

“Most modern freedom is at root fear. It is not so much that we are too bold to endure rules; it is rather that we are too timid to endure responsibilities.” 

“In the struggle for existence, it is only on those who hang on for ten minutes after all is hopeless, that hope begins to dawn.” 

“The one perfectly divine thing, the one glimpse of God's paradise given on earth, is to fight a losing battle - and not lose it.”

Destination: Unknown

"You don't get to know the ending."

This phrase is one of Mom's most frequent.

But I want to know the ending.

I was the girl who would skip to the end of the book so that I knew what was coming. 

I was the girl who endlessly harassed professors about test material so that I knew exactly what to study.

I was the girl who refused to watch anything labeled "Drama" because that was code for "Potentially Unhappy or Unsatisfying Ending."

No guesswork. No unknowns. No questions.

Clear answers. Clear endings. Clear directions.

But my plans have a way of being foiled.

"You don't get to know the ending."

The more answers I demanded, the fewer I received.

When I planned more, I enjoyed less.

When I insisted more, I appreciated less.

It was exhausting. And frankly, not a lot of fun.

So I gave up. 

I don't want to be the one in the corner, afraid that the story won't end the way she hopes it will. I want to be the one who lives fearlessly.

I don't want to compile a list of all possible pitfalls, dangers, and losses. I want to live without assessing the risk.

I don't want to have safety and comfort and predictability as my highest priorities. I want to live and love and give bravely.

"You don't get to know the ending."

I remind myself of this when I need to commit, when I'm asked to sign up, when I'm called to join. 

I remind myself of this goal when I catch myself compiling a list of "what-ifs?" and "why-nots".

I remind myself to take the scary steps, to agree to the unknown, to avoid the safe corner.

And I don't get to know where this journey will end.

Friday Linkage

Friday nights in October are for bonfires and friends, for hints of cozy winter evenings, and for piles of good books. And October Saturdays are for long hours in the golden sunlight. So this week's blog post wasn't published until Sunday night.

Here is a thought-provoking post on the difference between a hero and a celebrity.Which one are you aspiring to be?

New blog finds of the week include Keitharsis. There were so many wonderful posts that I could barely pick one to share. But this post on last moments is a good place to start.

It's been a while before I've shared an article by Seth Godin.  Read this post. And then decide: what are you going to do next?

Relevant Magazine recently published a thoughtful article on the wanderlust epidemic.

A recent article from Image Journal was a poignant reminder that grace resides in the everyday:

"But inside that little nothing is, of course, everything. Inside that smallness is an immensity beyond our ability to imagine. It is an offer of grace.Grace may be a gift, but the question we always have to ask is whether we are prepared to receive it."