"A Holly, Jolly Christmas"

 I was listening to one of my Christmas albums as I drove home from errands a couple of days ago. The lyrics to one of the songs made me stop and think a bit. 

"Have a holly, jolly Christmas, 

It's the best time of the year

Now I don't know if there'll be snow

But have a cup of cheer.

. . .

Have a holly, jolly Christmas

And in case you didn't hear

Oh, by golly

Have a holly, jolly Christmas this year."

It's a fun song. There's nothing wrong with it, in terms of what it says.

But, as I listened, I realized this was the first time in a few years that I hadn't skipped over the song as soon as it started. A "holly, jolly Christmas" was not something I felt was possible the last few years. I was still grieving the loss of my Grandma, and Christmas was full of things that reminded me of her. Christmas was hard, and while there were really good moments, it was definitely not a "holly, jolly Christmas."

As I kept listening to the song, I started to reflect on how many of our Christmas songs are all about having a great time, about laughter, about joy. There's nothing wrong with any of that. Those are good things and the songs are good.

And we argue about whether we should wish someone a "merry Christmas" or "happy holidays" or something along those lines. But, the sentiment of what we argue about saying is all the same thing to people. They're about joy and happiness and good times.

Except that's not the reality of a lot of people. Life isn't full of joy and happiness. It's hard. It's painful. It's messy. There's family conflict, and serious illness, and loss that are part of it. And, the Christmas season doesn't remove those things or suddenly make them easier. Often, it actually makes them more difficult.

And, as I reflect on the original Christmas story, I wonder if our focus on the joy and happiness to the exclusion of everything else, is a bit misplaced. Things were not easy for God's people at the time that Jesus came. They were living under the control of the Roman empire. They lived in poverty and oppression. This is what Jesus was born into.

Yes, Mary and Joseph trusted God and moved forward with the parts He had given them in His plan. Yes, the shepherds came and worshipped and shared the news as they left. Yes, the wise men came from the faraway land with gifts to worship Jesus the King.

But, Jesus coming didn't erase the other facts of their lives. Jesus coming didn't mean that they weren't still living under the rule of the Roman empire. 

Jesus entered into the pain of the people. He met them in it. We see that all through His ministry in the gospels. 

And, maybe we can being to do that. We can worship in the midst of the pain and the struggle. We can see all that Jesus coming brought, without having to pretend to be happy, or that our hard circumstances don't exist.

Alongside the songs about having "a holly, jolly Christmas" we can have the lament. The cries of pain. The cries of "Come Thou Long Expected Jesus." Neither one option or the other is adequate on it's own. We need them both alongside each other. 

And we need to allow both the joy and lament at this time of year. It's not a merry Christmas for everyone, and that's okay. We can and should allow for all that comes with this time of year.

We Need People

 I stood at the top of the driveway, golf clubs beside me, anxiously watching for you to turn your car onto my street. As I saw your car, I picked up my golf bag and walked over to put my clubs in the trunk. Looking forward to every minute of time with you the next few hours would bring.

Yes, I was looking forward to playing golf. The game you loved and patiently helped me learn to play.

But, it was so much more than that alone that made me look forward to this time. So much more that made a seventeen year old just a few days away from starting grade 12 look forward to a few hours with my grandparents.

For the last five years, I'd chosen to spend the hours with you. There was nothing unusual about the activities of this day for you and me. We'd probably done the same thing at least a hundred times before.

But, on this day, I was especially looking forward to this time. I was feeling the pressure of going into grade 12 and the decisions I'd have to start making right away. Decisions about college or university - would I stay local or go away, what I would study. I was already feeling overwhelmed by it all.

I knew that in the hours to come, I would have a safe place to spill that all out. That you would listen first - until I was done talking. And then you'd ask your questions and give me space to think and answer. Only after all that, would you join the chorus of voices telling me what I should or shouldn't do. Only after being sure you understood as much as you could, would you chime in with your perspective and advice.

As you dropped me off at home a few hours later, I felt a little less overwhelmed. I had a bit more clarity on things. It wasn't all figured out, but I felt heard. And I knew I had you support, love, prayers.

This came back to my mind the last few days, as I found myself feeling the same feelings. The overwhelm and not knowing what to do. I missed the way it was so easy growing up to share this with my grandparents.

And it made me realize the value I have in the friendships where I can talk about how I'm really doing. I know I have a handful of friends I could call in those moments and they would listen, care, love, support, pray.

This time I didn't call any of them, although looking back I wish I had. But, I was reminded of how we need these relationships in our lives.

And I was challenged in the independence our society tells us is a good thing. That very thing that kept me from making the call to a friend this time. We're told we shouldn't need anyone - that we should be able to figure out ourselves.

We're told we shouldn't need anyone, and, even though I know better, I bought the lie this time.

But, Scripture makes it pretty clear that we need each other. We weren't made to go through life alone. Over and over, we see encouragements to keep meeting together, to care for each other, to show up for each other.

Who are your people that you can call on when you can't do it on your own?

When was the last time you called one of them? Why?

Why do you hesitate to call them?

How can you challenge the tendency to try to go it alone and get better at reaching out to those around you when you need help?

Fix Your Eyes

 Sometimes life is hard and things we're going through feel like heavy burden to carry. It feels like we're just barely making it through with the weight of all that's going on.

We're looking for hope. For a way through. For a way out.

2 Corinthians 4:16-18 says:

"Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen, since what is seen s temporary, but what is unseen is eternal."

When I read these words a few days ago, I struggled with some of how it was written. I had to sit with it for a while to realize what Paul meant when he wrote these words.

The last couple months have been hard and heavy. Personal losses of an aunt and an uncle. Significant losses and hard times in my work family. It has just all seemed to pile up at one time. It has been a challenging and heavy time to walk through.

So reading words that called our troubles "light and momentary" didn't feel encouraging at first. My first thought was actually, you have no idea what's going on. When we're walking through hard times and loss, those things don't feel light or momentary. It feels like a weight on us that will never be lifted.

But, Paul, who wrote these words, knew what suffering and hard times were. He knew hardship. He knew the heaviness of loss. But, he still called our earthly troubles light and momentary.

How could he do this?

How can we do this in our troubles?

It's all about where we fix our eyes. That's what Paul tells us next in the passage from 2 Corinthians.

When our eyes are down, when they're focused on our circumstances, all we see is our troubles. That's when everything hard becomes overwhelming and never-ending.

The solution: to lift our eyes. To fix them on what is unseen and eternal. To fix our eyes on Jesus, as the writer of Hebrews tells us (Hebrews 12:2). This doesn't remove our troubles. It doesn't remove our loss. It doesn't take away the hard things.

But, it changes our focus.

When our eyes are fixed on Jesus, we see things differently. We see Him and then we see our circumstances through Him.

When our eyes are fixed on Jesus, we know we're not walking through whatever we're facing alone. We have a Companion who cares about us. Who wants to helps us and sometimes carry us through whatever we're facing.

That's the lesson I've learned that I'm trying to apply in my own circumstances right now. It's easy to look at the losses and struggles and be overwhelmed. That's where I was when I first read these verses. 

But, when I choose to fix my eyes on Jesus, something changes. Nothing about the circumstances has changed. The losses still exist. The hard times haven't disappeared. But, it's not as overwhelming because I'm paying attention to Jesus with me in the midst of them.

Once I saw all this, the words of 2 Corinthians 4:16-18 have become words of encouragement and hope.

"Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen, since what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal."

What troubles are you walking through that seem anything but light and momentary?

Where are your eyes fixed? On your troubles? Or on Jesus?

How can you fix your eyes on Jesus?

Letter to Grandma

Today's post is a letter to my Grandma. At this point, she is still alive - although in a care home and slowly being lost to disease. In the last year, everything has changed with COVID and it's been far too long since I have been able to see her. I hold on to hope that one day I will see her again - even though I know it won't be the same.

Tonight, I'm reflecting on things. Things from my Grandma that are some of the biggest blessings in my life. 

This time in our world has changed so much for so many. I know I'm not the only one who is dealing with things like this. I pray you might be encouraged to remember the good the blessings, even with the losses of this time. It doesn't change or remove the pain or the hard time, and we need to be honest about the emotions we're dealing with, but that doesn't mean we can't look for the good things too.

Dear Grandma, 

It's been a year now since I saw you and gave you a hug.

Not by my choice. Because of circumstances I can't control.

I drive past the place where you currently live regularly, each time wishing I could pull into the parking lot and head up to your room for a visit.

From what I'm told now, the next time I visit you (if that day comes), it won't be the same. You likely won't remember we. Or even talk anymore.

I hate that this pandemic has stolen a year from us. 

I wish I'd held on for one more minute the last time I gave you a hug.

I wish I'd just been there more.

Tonight, as I sit in your old rocking chair, the memories come back. The rocking chair that matched Grandpa's in the sitting area off your kitchen in your house by the lake. A chair that was a favourite place to sit then and still is today.

As I sit in the faded and worn rocking chair, I remember our conversations. The wisdom you freely shared. The encouragement that was always offered.

It's easy to be sad that I don't get the time near the end of your life's journey on earth that I wish I could have.

It's easy to be mad about what this pandemic has stolen from us.

It's easy to live in regret over what I did and didn't do in recent years in the time I had with you.

It's easy to be disappointed that I can't just pick up the phone and call you to ask a question about leading a Bible study or prayer or anything in life.

But, I hear your voice, reminding me that those aren't the places I really want to stay. Yes, feel the emotion. Don't push them away. Acknowledge and work through the pain and the sadness.

But, always look upward to Jesus. Keep my eyes focused on Him, whatever comes my way.

So, these days, I sit in your old rocking chair, now in my living room, and think back to all the things you would say as talked. Conversations in hours spent at your house, making buns or building train tracks. 

I sit in your old rocking chair and remember the hours spent on the golf course together. Not just teaching me to play golf, but also always pointing me to the truth of God's Word and His ways.

I sit in your old rocking chair and read the commentaries I got from your bookshelf when you could no longer read. Seeing what spoke to you from what you highlighted and noted in the margins. A glimpse into the walk with God I saw in you and always admired. A challenge to keep going and keep trusting God, no matter what comes my way.

I love you. I miss you. And I hope that there is still one more day when I can see you and hug you again.

Your oldest grand-daughter, Tamara

Letting the Faith of Others Carry you in the Struggle

 A couple days ago, I got a message asking why I hadn't posted anything here in just over a month. I knew it had been a while, but I didn't realize it had been that long.

If I look at the notebook where I start most of my posts, I can see a lot of started and unfinished posts. Things I started to write, but had no idea how to finish or turn into something I would share. Thoughts about things that I can't yet get to a conclusion of any kind.

The last post I wrote and shared here challenged me as I read it. I was writing about getting through when you don't think you can. About what we need to do.

I talked about our need to invite community into our struggle. To have people we can be honest with about where we're at. It was easy to write that, but the truth is, it was harder to live that out. I wrote those words for others, not even realizing how much I would struggle to do exactly that in the last few weeks.

It wasn't until I completely reached the end of myself that I realized just how important it is to invite people into our struggle. It's not just a good thing to talk about. It's something we need to actually do. It wasn't until I actually reached out to friends and let them into my struggle that things began to change. My faith may be weak right now, but that's what community is for. We carry each other when someone is struggling. We carry them to Jesus.

When the whole premise of what you've written about for years is living as Christ's disciple and what that looks like practically, when things get hard, it's hard to write about it. But maybe honesty about things is the best place to start writing again.

I don't know what my writing will look like in the coming weeks. I don't know if there will be more that make its way to here. Or if it will continue to be unfinished ideas that don't make it here.

But can I encourage you with this: No matter where you're at spiritually, keep holding on. Keep sharing honestly with people in your life. When you're faith is struggling, ask the people around you to pray for you. Let their faith carry you when yours is weak.

Done With Pretending

I was looking back over some of my posts here, and was reminded again of the importance of being who we are with people, of not pretending we have it all together, as I reread a post I wrote in April 2016.

As I read it, I realized that the idea of being done with pretending to be perfect is one of the reasons I've written some of the posts I've written in the last few months. When we live trying to hide things, it's tiring. We live with the "fear of being found out." It's exhausting to live with that.

When we learn to be honest about our struggles and our joys, it changes everything for us. I don't think we need to lay out all of the detail for every person we know or meet. But, we need to have people we're being completely honest with. That frees us from trying to be perfect for everyone we meet. We have people who know and still love us, so we can be free from the concern of trying to tell the whole world we have it all together.

I think the post I wrote that prompted these thoughts is worth posting again, so here it is:

Rain cascaded off the edge of the umbrella forming a stream around her as it soaked the ground. She stood un-moving as she debated stepping out from under the protection. Knowing she would be drenched the moment she did so, she wondered if it was worth it to step out.
Memories of the joy of running and playing in the rain as a little child filled her mind. The times she was unafraid to get a little messy and experience the joy of not worrying what she looked like to others.
When had she become do concerned with looking right to others? With people seeing her as someone who had it all together?
The more she thought about it, the more she realized how tired she was from the work it required. Hiding anything that might be even the slightest bit messy from the world around her took a lot of work. She always had to be paying careful attention, making sure there was no crack for what was underneath to show through for even a brief moment.
Who was she really trying to impress? Was it really worth the energy and the time?
She collapsed the umbrella and let the rain our down on her. Eventually she began to walk, then run, then dance. Laughter echoing with the raindrops hitting the ground.
She'd forgotten the freedom of it until now. Worries about looking right and impressing others vanished from her mind. Cares that had been holding her back released their hold. For those moments she was free to be who she was underneath the masks she usually wore.


I wonder if we're more like this than we really want to admit. Even as I wrote it, I realized how often that struggle is mine.

But, I also know there is freedom that comes with dropping the masks and letting what's underneath be seen. There's freedom in stepping into God's cleansing rain in our lives. In letting it wash away our perfectly manicured and presented selves, to show the broken and the mess we've hidden behind it.

Because when we allow God to wash away the facade we've put up, He can reveal a masterpiece that He has built behind. Out of the broken and the mess of our lives God creates something far more beautiful than our pretend perfection ever was.

Will you step out from under the umbrella? Will you allow the rain to wash away your pretend perfection to reveal God's beautiful work?

Carrying Burdens

"Carry each other's burdens and in this way you will fulfill the law of Christ." (Galatians 6:2)

". . . for everyone should carry their own load." (Galatians 6:5)

Two verses in the same passage that almost seem to be contradicting each other.

. . . Or maybe not . . .

How can both of these be true at the same time?

As I've wrestled with these ideas - carrying each other's burdens and carrying our own loads - I've realized Paul is actually talking about two different, although related, things here. English makes them look and sound the same at a glance.

In Galatians 6:5 when he talks about each person carrying their own load, Paul is talking about being responsible for your own life - for what you have. It's about living your life in such a way that you are looking after yourself, not choosing to be  unreasonably dependent on others because of laziness or unwillingness. This is a key part of living well in community with others.

When Paul talks about carrying each other's burdens in Galatians 6:2, he is talking about those times in life when it gets really hard and those things outside "normal" life burdens. These are the times when the storms come and we might be overwhelmed. It's in these times that we need other Christians in our community to come alongside and help us carry the extra burden.

Having people be able to help us carry the extra burden is only possible if we're each carrying our own load. If we've been refusing to carry our own load, we'll likely find that others are unable of unwilling to help us now.

Unable because they're already carrying something for us that we should be carrying. Unwilling because they've watched us refuse to carry what we should. Either way, if we've placed ourselves in this position, we're in trouble. That's why Paul is so clear that we need to carry our own load, so that we can also help carry each other's burdens when necessary.

No Room for Pride

In my Bible Galatians 6:1-6 has been given the heading "Doing Good to All." Paul seems to put together a series of verses that each stand alone in this section. They speak of different aspects of how we should do good to others.

"Brothers and sisters, if someone is caught in a sin, you who by the Spirit should restore that person gently. But watch yourselves, or you also may be tempted. Carry each other's burdens, and in this way you will fulfill the law of Christ. If anyone thinks they are something when they are not, they deceive themselves. Each one should test their own actions. Then they can take pride in themselves alone, without comparing themselves to someone else, for each one should carry their own load. Nevertheless, the one who receives instruction in the word should share all goo things with their instructor."

These verses are full of things we should do as the family of God.

As I was reflecting on this passage, I realized there is one key to doing any of these things . . .

Humility.

Without it, any attempt at these things will come across as wrong and could do more harm than good. There's no room for pride in these.

It take humility to gently restore someone caught in sin. In our pride, we might point out sin in someone's life. But we can only restore them if we come to them in  humility - with love and a desire to see them freed from that sin.

Our pride would keep us from admitting we could be tempted to sin as come alongside someone to restore them. It would cause us to see ourselves as better than that. Humility allows us to admit our own weakness and susceptibility to sin.

Pride says we have to carry our own burdens without help from anyone else. Humility gives us the ability to ask for help when it's too much for us alone. It gives us freedom to live in caring community with others.

Pride infaltes our view of ourselves. It deceives us. Our pride will compare us to others and see ourselves as better than. Humility looks at ourselves through God's eyes and see His view. Instead of comparing to others, we ourselves through God's eyes.

Our pride will limit who we are able to learn from. If we are teachers, our pride will interfere with our ability to learn from those we teach. Humility means we can learn from anyone God wants to use to teach us.

Pride will also keep up from sharing what we've learned in a way that blesses others. We will speak down to others when we explain it. When we share it with humility, we share our excitement and love for the truth with others, not just our knowledge.

If we're going to live the way God intended for His family on earth to operate, we have to learn to live in humility. There's no room for pride. We have to learn to identify those areas where pride has gotten in the way and confess them to God so He can free us from them. As we learn to live in humility with each other, we catch a glimpse of what God intended for us.

Five Minute Friday: Exhale

Exhale. It's something we do all the time. Every time we inhale, we exhale. Most of the time it happens without us even thinking about it.

We exhale physically, but we can also exhale spiritually. That moment when we give up something we've been carrying for far too long that we were never meant to carry in the first place.

We let it go - leave it at the cross. And when we get up to walk away something feels lighter. Like we've left something heavy there and walked away without it. We exhale, as the weight is lifted. And then we walk a little bit easier when we walk away.

We meet with God. We hear His truth. We confess our sin. We exhale spiritually as we leave behind the burdens we were never meant to carry. And we move forward in our walk with God - allowing Him into more places to lift more burdens we can no longer carry.



After a few months of not joining in, I decided it was time to jump back in with Five Minute Friday - joining the group over at Lisa-Jo Baker's blog, for five minutes of writing on a given word and then sharing it, no editing or overthinking.
This week's word is "exhale."

Free to Sing, Dance, Love, and Live

"Dance like no one is watching. Sing like no one is listening. Love like you've never been hurt; and live like it's heaven on Earth." (Mark Twain)

I love watching kids play. Before the world comes in and them they have to be serious about life. Before they are hurt or betrayed for being who they are. They have a freedom and an innocence about them that I often wish I still had.

A freedom because no one has told them they have to look or act or be a certain way. An innocence because no one has betrayed them or wounded them deeply yet.

They naturally do what Twain says in the quote I opened with. They dance, sing, love with nothing to hold them back.

When I see that, I want more of that in my life. I long to be able to go back to that time in my life. It seems like a much easier way to live.

Instead, I hesitate to dance because someone else is watching and I don't want them to judge me because of how I look when I dance. I sing softly and only when no one else is around, because I've compared myself to others and decided I'm not good enough. I struggle to love precisely because I've been hurt by people I've loved. I hold myself back from fully living because I know the pain of this world.

And I judge other adults who don't seem to be confined like I am. I long for the freedom and innocence of a child in my own life; while at the same time, I judge others who seem to have found it as adults.

The unfortunate reality of living in a fallen world. Of living in a world where things don't always go as they should. A world with pain, betrayal, shame, loneliness, fear.

The Good News in all of this is that we can get to living in freedom. God has provided a way for that to happen again. And it is what He desires for us to experience.

We can take the pain, betrayal, shame, loneliness, fear, and anything else we struggle with to Him and He will take from us if we let Him. In it's place, He offers us unconditional love, grace, and acceptance.

He lifts the heavy burdens we have been carrying. He breaks the chains that have held us back. He opens prison doors that have kept us contained. He speaks the truth to heal our woundedness.

Our part is to come to Him. We have to take those things to Him and let them go. To allow Him to touch those broken and hurting places so He can heal them.

It's not always easy to do this. But it's always worth it.

Then we can walk away with the freedom and innocence of a child again. We can begin to:

"Dance like no one is watching. Sing like no one is listening. Love like we've never been hurt; and live like heaven is on Earth." (Mark Twain)

Why do we Hide & Pretend?

In my post a few days ago I talked about the burdens of hiding and pretending that we do often carry. And about how we can lay down these burdens that take so much of our energy to carry.

It sounds so simple to say the way to lay down these burdens is to have people we're honest with about the good and the bad in our lives. In truth, it is as simple as it sounds, but there is something that makes living it more difficult.

"When it comes to living truthfully with others one of our primary struggles is that we seem to be of two minds: we long for the truth and we are afraid of the truth. Longing to be - and fear of being - known." (Stage 2: Community with Others, Vantage Point 3: A Way of Life)

At the same time as we long to be really known by other, we also fear it. And often this fear keeps us from living truthfully with others.

We fear being truthful with others for many reasons:

• we've been shamed for sharing things in the past
• we've been hurt for doing so in the past
• we don't know anyone who has done it before
• we're ashamed of our struggles
• we've been taught that sharing our struggles is a bad thing

I'm sure there are many more reasons that could be given. Each of us has our own reasons for fearing being known at the same time as we long for it.

The first step to overcoming this fear is to admit it. We have to start by acknowledging that it is a fear there. Confess it to God and to other carefully chosen people. As we choose to take steps to be transparent with others despite our fear of doing so, the fear loses its grips on our lives. And the next time becomes a bit easier than the last, until we're no longer bound by this fear.

We have to allow our longing to be known to be stronger than our fear of being known. It's not easy, but it is the most rewarding way to live.

The Burdens of Hiding & Pretending

"Confession is a discipline that functions within fellowship. In it we let trusted others know our deepest weaknesses and failures. This will nourish our faith in God's provision for our needs through His people, our sense of being loved and our humility before our brothers and sisters. This we let some friends in Christ know who we really are, not holding back anything important, but, ideally, allowing complete transparency. We lay down the burdens of hiding and pretending, which normally take up such a dreadful amount of human energy. We engage and are engaged by others in the profound depths of the soul." (Dallas Willard)


When I first read this quote, one phrase jumped off the page at me. It only makes sense within the context of the entire quote, but the words of the phrase are incredibly important for us to grasp.

We lay down the burdens of hiding and pretending . . ."

We don't usually talk about hiding and pretending as burdens - if we talk about them at all. For the most part, we don't admit we spend much of our lives hiding and pretending.

We live in a culture that encourages us to hide and pretend. We're taught that we need to look like we have it all together all that time. That it doesn't matter what is going on inside, on the outside everything should be fine.

Se, we pretend and we hide.

We pretend that things are going great even when they might not be. And we hide how we are truly feeling behind our answers of "fine" and "good."

But, if we're honest, even if only to ourselves, all of this hiding and pretending does get burdensome. It takes a lot of work to do it all the time. We've gotten so good at pretending and hiding, but deep down we want to stop doing it all the time. Deep down we want others to know what's really going on and how we really feel. We want to "lay down the burdens of hiding and pretending" that we've been carrying.

That's where the rest of the quote by Dallas Willard comes in. Willard is telling us how we can lay down the burdens of hiding and pretending. We can only lay that burden down by choosing to be honest with people and allowing them to know our weaknesses and our failures - by choosing transparency instead of hiding and pretending. We have to choose to be honest with each other about the good and the bad in our lives. Because it's only when we are really known by others that we stop carrying the tiresome burdens of hiding and pretending that have been stealing our energy.

It's not that we need to share every detail of the hard and the bad in our lives with every person we meet. But that, as Willard said, "we let some friends in Christ know who we really are." When we do this, things are different because we're not carrying the same burden anymore. It allows us to be more of who we really are with everyone, even if not everyone knows every detail.


"To confess our sins before others, though, helps let go of this exhausting need to keep up appearances. It frees us to live truthfully and humbly in the mercy of God." (Stage 2: Community with Others, Vantage Point 3: A Way of Life)