When the light of the season feels heavy

It keeps coming back to light and darkness, joy and pain, and I realize how both good and bad are linked, drawing us into this season of Advent.  We wait joyfully, expectantly, to celebrate (again) the birth of Jesus, but no birth is without pain, tears, or mess.  We long for rebirth and renewal because of the darkness, the brokeness we all feel.  We grieve, with empty spaces around the table and within our hearts. We carry the heavy burdens of packages we can't afford, years of regret, and the thoughts of those we know who are suffering.  We need to lighten our load.  We search for the light, but fear that the darkness might overcome us.

Christmas is in the dead of winter for a purpose.  When the days are short, dark, and cold, we needed a real reminder that what we see is just a surface reality.  Beyond the ordinary time we experience is the world of miracles, where a baby born to a poor young mother would be the Messiah, an event that called wise men to leave the familiar and journey to give precious gifts to a lowly one that would one day be called a King, a shepherd born among real and smelly sheep.

We sing songs of peace and joy, realizing that these are already within us, just as Christ is with us.  We light candles of hope, peace, joy, and love to remember the gifts that God gives us through Christ, the lights that reveal to us that the darkness will not win.  We light our candle from the Christ candle and go forth to be lights of the world.   We seek the light from a star that will draw us ever forward into the Kingdom of God, which is among us.  We celebrate what we have know, but what is also made new to us again each year.

So we hold our light higher, knowing that the darkness still lingers, but that the light pushes it back.  We celebrate in joy, knowing that love has already won and that we are held in its embrace.  Now that we remember that we are beloved, we are ready to face the world and be love.

Empowering the "Good Girl": a Disney Princess I Can Get Behind

I don't go to movies often as I would prefer to curl up with a book, but checking out the latest Disney movie, "Frozen", seemed like a nice family activity to wind down Thanksgiving.  I had heard positive reviews of both the movie's message and music, but I was still surprisingly blown away.  This may become my favorite Disney movie of all time.  While the animation was lovely and the characters were charming, I resonated with the themes of the story as they connected with a book I've been reading.  After savoring Emily P. Freeman's latest book A Million Little Ways, : Uncover the Art You Were Made to Live, I began reading her earlier work, Grace for the Good Girl: Letting Go of the Try-Hard Life.  

I'm a self-proclaimed "good girl", and was often derided as a "goody-two-shoes" in my younger days. Performing well at school and at church became a mask for me, a way of creating an image of having it all together.  The outer shell of "perfection" hid the fears and chaos I held inside.  Somehow I had received the message that if I did all the "right" things then I would find happiness.  It's still a battle I fight daily, balancing my Pinterest ideals with a lovely (but not perfect) reality.  I struggle with my inner critic and the voices of a culture that sells me the idea that I must buy more and do more to be more.  There are the societal norms that regulate what I "should" say and how I should act as a woman, and religious dogma that sometimes narrowly defines (and denies) my role and call as a woman in ministry. 

I've hidden behind my "good girl" persona, doing what I can to please others, be nice, and do what is expected of me.  I've hidden and apologized for my anger and have not spoken up when I should have.  I've relied too much on myself, as Emily Freeman describes the good girl in her book, "Hiding behind that good-looking mask, her arms are folded too tightly to give and receive grace, or to fall into an embrace from a God who sees beyond her good reputation" (Grace for the Good Girl, p. 45).  It has caused me to keep others (and sometimes God) at a distance, and has allowed fear to make too many of my decisions.

This is where I most connected with the movie "Frozen".  The story centers around two sisters, who being Disney main characters are, of course, princesses.  The elder sister, Elsa, has a special gift of creating snow and ice just from her touch.  This provides magical snowy playscape for the sisters until Elsa accidentally hurts Anna with her powers.  Elsa feels guilty and afraid and vows to hide what she now sees as a curse.  When she is unable to control it, she ends up hiding herself away, putting distance between the sisters.  After their parents die in a shipwreck (why do parents so often meet an unfortunate end in Disney movies??) and Elsa is preparing for her coronation as queen, her magic is unintentionally revealed.  In fear, and for others' protection, she runs away from her home, creating a new castle for herself out of ice (there's a strong metaphor).  She is alone, but finds freedom in finally being able to be who she truly is without hiding.  She is surprised by the beauty that results.

At this point in the movie, Elsa (voiced by Idina Menzel of Wicked fame), sings "Let it Go".  Here are some of the powerful lyrics:

Don't let them in, don't let them see,
Be the good girl you always had to be.
Conceal, don't feel, don't let them know.
Well now they know.

Let it go, let it go
Can't hold it back anymore
Let it go, let it go
Turn my back and slam the door
And here I stand and here I'll stay
Let it go, let it go
The cold never bothered me anyway

It's funny how some distance makes everything seem small
And the fears that once controlled me, can't get to me at all.
Up here in the cold thin air, I finally can breathe.

I know I left a life behind, but I'm too relieved to grieve.

There are twists in the plot that keep the movie from being a traditional Disney story. In fact, the movie pokes fun at the idea that the females need to be rescued, or that all is made right with "true love's kiss".  In the end, it's the bonds of sisterhood that are the evidence of true love, and the strength of the female characters save the day.  Love is the cure for the power that has become destructive, and it restores everything to wholeness and beauty.  Elsa learns that there is power and freedom in letting go of the walls she has built and seeking connection with others.  Her strength comes in learning to embrace and use her gift, viewing it through a lens of art instead of fear.

What if we could all do the same?  What if we could break through the places where fear has frozen us and find the empowerment to be who we were created to be? 

Perhaps I should take my tea bag wisdom seriously.

Check out the soundtrack version of "Let it Go" in the Demi Lovato video below: 

Art and Vulnerability

"Vulnerability" seems to be the buzz word these days.  Most notable in the work of Brené Brown, it's also popping up in many of the books and blogs I read.  Recently I enjoyed a getaway to an event hosted by Emily Freeman of Chatting at the Sky, based on her wonderful new book A Million Little Ways: Uncover the Art You Were Made to Live.  Emily shared that we are all made for art; after all, we were created in the image of the great Artist.  

Our art may take different forms (writing, music, parenting, or work in any field that springs from our passion), but we each have an unique artistry to offer the world.  Even though this art is at the foundation of who we are, creating it is not simple or easy.  It takes courage to offer our gifts, particularly as we deal with inner and outer critics.  Sharing our true selves and deepest desires is vulnerable stuff...what if others don't accept it?  What if we give all we have and find that it's not enough?  Do we have anything uniquely special to give?

Vulnerability comes with great risks, and yet, I'm learning that the ways we live without it can cause even more damage.  I believe that the swing we're seeing away from the "I'm just fine, thank you, and I can do this myself" mindset to the longing for authenticity and community comes from the pain of wearing masks for too long.  It's hard keeping up an image and pretending things are okay when we feel broken inside.  It's difficult managing appearances, controlling our situations, environment, and those around us so that we can have the semblance of perfection that we crave.  We can work so hard to keep it together and just feel empty inside.

I started this blog as a way to be vulnerable, to force myself to peel back the facade a little and come to terms with a life, that while beautiful and full of blessings, does not always match the picture I have in my head.  I spend far too much time bemoaning how my children won't listen and too much energy trying to force everyone into submission.  I grew up in a very loving but unstable household, and I developed controlling tendencies as a way to compensate.  I want to be the perfect mother and wife, and I have unrealistic expectations of what that means.  When I inevitably fail, I feel guilty and am convinced I will always be a failure.  I have a hard time expressing what I need, and then grumble when I don't get my unspoken wants.  It's been an exhausting way to live (for me, and my family, too, I'm sure).  I'm slowly learning, though, that through the power of sharing how I feel, I'm more likely to get what I need.  Others are accepting of the "real" me as it frees them to be authentic as well.  They are not looking for perfection in me, and they are relieved to know I'm not expecting it from them either.

This retreat weekend came about when I told my husband I wanted to attend, and that I wanted a night in a hotel to relax and process the experience.  He was happy to oblige as he is always encouraging me to take better care of myself (and stepping in to rescue me when I don't).  I'm still working on not feeling guilty as I know the time away makes me a happier mom and wife, and I'm even excited to return home and spend a few solo days with the kids as John leaves to go hunting, and then we enjoy the chaos of the holidays together with our extended families.  "At the Barn" was a lovely time of listening and connecting.  Many shared dreams from their heart, and shared their honest struggle through tears.  Others offered encouragement through their on journey of having been there before.  As an introvert, I sat and took it all in. 

As I listened and appreciated the openeness, I realized that it is often missing in the larger world.  While we live in a culture of oversharing (instagramming every meal, tweeting every thought), there is a fine line between authentic vulnerability and a plea for attention.  The former leads to empathy and intimacy (I feel with you, "me too"), while the latter screams "see me".  Do we reach out in connection and community, or as a way to market and promote ourselves?  I have struggled with that line due to my engagement with social media (Facebook, Tumblr, Twitter, Instagram, blog).  Am I sharing to join in with others or to create and maintain an image?  Will my "friends" feel encouraged or overshadowed?  As it's more difficult to generate true community these days, it's also harder to know how to reach out without oversharing  and without being pushy or disingenuous.    

It was a message for me to ponder, seeking how I share myself.  Am I sharing who I really am or crafting an image or brand?  What is my art and how will I offer it to others?  It forced me to confront the demon of comparison that often blocks me from sharing my art.  It's easy to give up and think that I will never be there, and maybe that's okay.  For now, I'm grateful for the time to explore these questions and tend to the seeds of dreams planted within me, and nurturing those who share the garden with me.