Christmas Letters

I love Christmas letters. At least, I love the one that has come from the same family every year for as long as I can remember. I think it may be the only one that we have gotten. Though my parents know them, I only know the family members through their letters, but I look forward to it every year.

This year's letter contained an announcement that the oldest son of the gentleman writing the letter was doing a "superlative job" at working for his dad. It really doesn't matter what job the guy was doing. What matters is that this son's dad has a job like my dad and his dad had just called him "superlative." This terminology quickly prompted the desire for such to be used in reference to me and my siblings. A short discussion ensued which determined that a Christmas letter for our family should be written tonight and I should write it (especially if I wanted any such praises as "superlative" to go in it.)

Most of it is now written, though not approved, as my parents are a sleep in their respective recliner or couch. Armed with my computer, a list of 2011 highlights for each family member, and a large mug of hot tea with honey, I began my trek into the unknown of the Christmas letter world. I typed in the twinkle of the tree lights as I listened to the fire crepitate (first chance to use dictionary.com's word of the day from a month ago) in the wood stove. That last sentence almost makes it sound sort of romantic like the kind of night only story book characters have which is really cool because it kind of is like that except for the parents asleep part. I made it through and actually had a few laughs prior in coming up with that list.

I don't know if the letter will pass approval or if it will be sent out after that as we are terrible about such things, but somehow I feel accomplished at something. Whether my daddy thinks so or not, I feel superlative. Maybe I am superlative at being me. I don't know if this is part of the whole acceptance thing, which I will explain later, but I feel very accepted.

So write a Christmas letter. You can send it to me if you want. Drink some hot tea while you write it. Bask in the love of Jesus if you do nothing else.

Bethany Dillon Inspiration

This morning, while I was driving to work, I realized this song represents all that I was trying to say in yesterday's post. It continues to ring true for me.

Beautiful

Performed by Bethany Dillon

I was so unique
Now I feel skin deep
I count on the make-up to cover it all
Crying myself to sleep cause I cannot keep their attention
I thought I could be strong
But it's killing me

Does someone hear my cry?
I'm dying for new life

[Chorus]
I want to be beautiful
Make you stand in awe
Look inside my heart,
and be amazed
I want to hear you say
Who I am is quite enough
Just want to be worthy of love
And beautiful

Sometimes I wish I was someone other than me
Fighting to make the mirror happy
Trying to find whatever is missing
Won't you help me back to glory

[Chorus]

You make me beautiful
You make me stand in awe
You step inside my heart, and I am amazed
I love to hear You say
Who I am is quite enough
You make me worthy of love and beautiful

"Who could love a girl with a name like Beezus?"

"Who could love a girl with a name like Beezus?" quipped a frustrated Beezus Quimby from her bunk bed in the movie Ramona and Beezus to which came her younger sister's hesitant reply, "Jesus?"

Ramona may not have been sure if her answer was correct and, though it didn't seem to help Beezus at that moment, I think it was a perfect answer. This led me to think how many times I have asked similar questions and how many times I have rejected that answer as well.

I love the world "beautiful". I am immediately attracted to it when I see it written somewhere. It is in the title of the song that I felt best described me when I was in highschool (Beautiful Somehow). It is my daddy's nick name for me. It is the name of my perfume. A form of it is part of the title of my favorite fairy tale, "Beauty and the Beast."

As a child I refused to dress up at Halloween as something ugly; it was my one time of year to be "beautiful." I could barely wait to wear makeup so I could be "beautiful," while as an adult I rarely go without makeup. I long for beauty and am on an endless search to find it. So, for years I have continued to ask and He has continued to answer:

"Who could love a girl with a face like mine?" "Jesus"

"Who could love a girl that acts as silly as I do?" "Jesus"

"Who could love a girl who messes up as much as I do?" "Jesus"

"Who could love a girl that weighs this much?" "Jesus"

"Who could love a girl ______________________?" (fill in the blank) "JESUS"

And still so very often...so very, very often, my response has been the same as Beezus's... as if He isn't enough.

Yet, I am learning.

I am learning that no matter what I do, beauty is still in the eye of the beholder and therefore some will behold me as beautiful and some will behold me as far less. I am learning that no matter how much I work out or how I fix my make up, I will never be the world's standard of beautiful. I am learning that it is only the Beholder who made me that counts. I am learning that He is not only absolutely and completely enough, but He is Beauty itself.

Ann Voskamp chases the moon and then reflects, "I kneel here, needing to know how a hung rock radiates -- ethereal? This beauty is not natural, not of nature. This beauty is not merely form and color but God's 'shining garment's hem.' Beauty is the voice endlessly calling and so we see, so we reach. Doubt the philosophies, doubt the prophecies, doubt the Pharisees (especially the ones seen in mirrors), but who can doubt this, Beauty? Beauty requires no justification, no explanation; it simply is and transcends. See beauty and we know it in the marrow, even if we have no words for it: Someone is behind it, in it. Beauty Himself completes" (One Thousand Gifts, chapter 7).

She continues on to explain that she worships the God that is present within all of these things she finds beautiful, but does not deify those things themselves. It is very different for one to consider the natural world divine, as a pantheist would, than for one to see divine God present in all things. Yet, is that not what I do when I look at the world around me, deciding that I am not enough and Jesus couldn't love me? Do I not unintentionally deify the objects and people around me by whom I measure others? I believe I do.

My endless search for beauty has been erroneously driven by the notion that beauty could be found somewhere around or inside of me when all the time beauty has only been found in the One who deems me beautiful as He dwells within me. My search, therefore, continues, but this time I know what my object of beauty is. I seek Beauty Himself. For He is "infinite and without end, without jaw or sockets, everywhere eye. The face of the moon, the face of the doe, the face of derelict, the face of pain. His the countenance that seeps up the world, face without limitation...All beauty is only reflection. And whether I am conscious of it or not, any created thing of which I am amazed, it is the glimpse of His face to which I bow down...True, authentic Beauty requires of us, lays claim to us, and it is this, the knees bent, the body offered in obedience. A pantheist's god is a passive god, but omnipresent God is Beauty who demands worship, passion, and the sacrifice of a life, for He owns it" (One Thousand Gifts, chapter 7).

Beezus's question sort of reminded me of Paul in Romans, chapter 7 as he exclaimed, "Wretched man that I am! Who will set me free from the body of this death?" With him, I now reply to my own previous questions, "Thanks be to God, through Jesus Christ our Lord!"

Oranges with Faces

I was sick about two weeks ago with strep and the flu which rendered me unable to attend school for four days per doctors orders. As much as I hated all of my symptoms and being out of school, the Lord really used that time for me to be able to bond with my equally sick family. He also used it to point out some important truths I might not have stopped to notice otherwise...

"One Thousand Gifts" is the title of the book and Ann Voskamp is the author, of whom I only know a little from reading the forwards my mother sends me from her blog's. I'm on the third chapter and it has already begun to change my life. Her challenge, that I've now made mine, is to write a list of one thousand things of which she is thankful. Since starting, I've found I am not a "naturally" thankful person. Since starting I've become a person who takes pictures of oranges with faces left on my piano by my eighth grade students, brightly painted toenails and wedges. . Francesca Battistelli sings, "in the middle of my little mess, I forget how big I'm blessed." Amused, my co-workers smile at my silly pictures, but I am finding I need those pictures of oranges, those reminders of how blessed I am. In this world, where doom and failure lurks around every corner, particularly my own sinful human nature, I need to bask in these little rays of light so that I might also bask in the Joy and Light that conquered death so long ago...