I feel so guilty feeling blue right after a holiday full of blessings. But overwhelming emotions snuck up on me during the holidays and without having the time or energy to feel them, I ignored them and tried to tuck them away. But once the hype and hoopla were over, up to the surface they bubbled.
Is this the life sentence of a sensitive heart? Or simply the beauty of the human experience? Is it the vulnerability of aliveness or is it menopause? (it’s okay to laugh)
Unable to fully answer, I snatched my wristlet of prayer beads and squeezed until I felt the cross charm at the strand’s end poking into my palm. When my heart feels the most tender and vulnerable, it helps me to have a physical reminder of God’s presence. In a distracting and cluttered mind, home, and world, I use every help I can to keep my eyes and heart focused on the light.
If you come into my home, you’ll see verses, crosses, and photos of every season on walls and tucked in every corner. While I am certainly proud of my family and our life and faith, these mementos and words aren’t displayed for visitors. They are there for me and my children, to remind us of the gift we have in each other and the promise we share in our faith.
For years, we went each summer to a ranch in Texas that is home to Pine Cove, a camp for children and families. It was a special week for us when we detached from technology and distraction and plugged into our faith and family. At the end of each week, we selected a stone from the grounds of the ranch and with paint pens wrote reminders to ourselves using a single word or verse. This rock would serve as our Ebenezer for the year, a Hebrew phrase that means, “stone of help.”
After my divorce, we stopped going to Pine Cove, and the tradition of creating an Ebenezer was lost. A bowl of stones sits collected as reminders of God’s message and presence during those years. Those stones are one of the most treasured items in my home.
This morning amid my post-Christmas letdown, my childhood best friend, Anne, texted with a message that gave me chills.
Several weeks ago, we were shopping together for Christmas. We were lollygagging around one of our favorite stores, the Marketplace, close to our hometown in South Arkansas. She kept picking up this little blue devotional as a potential gift for her sister-in-law. In the end, she didn’t buy it with no real reason why. Distraction by all the other baubles and stuff, I suppose.
On Christmas morning, she opened the gift from her sister-in-law and there it was…the little blue devotional. The sister-in-law couldn’t explain why she chose it, other than when she saw it, my friend’s name immediately came to mind.
What are the chances?
You might say the store was small and there is something in their shared experience that caused them to both be drawn to the book. But the Marketplace is one of those enormous warehouse-style buildings with booths for individual sellers. It’s not a flea market, but rather a venue where small business owners can set up shop in a 20’x20’ space. There are thousands upon thousands of potential gifts and there was nothing remarkable about this little blue book.
But we knew the truth, it was divinely inspired.
“I’d pay real close attention to that devotional this year if I were you,” I texted back.
The idea that she has some pretty cool angels flying near her heartened both of us and immediately lifted my post-holiday spirit. The chills on my arms turned to the warm presence of Emmanuel, God with Us.
I believe, based on my life experiences, that the veil between here and “there” is as thin as a vapor, and when we fix our eyes just right, we can see straight through and receive messages in return. But often, I fix my eyes on other things, keeping me from seeing and hearing the divine all around.
I remind myself that I can choose my response to being overwhelmed, distracted, or things not going my way. I can build the stone wall of bitterness or avoidance, which blocks God’s light and divine communication or I can raise an Ebenezer of remembrance commemorating God’s faithfulness thus far.
I love the excitement and hope that a New Year brings and often use it as a time for vision-casting and focusing on the future. But perhaps this year, I will cast a vision of hope for the future AND resume the old Pine Cove tradition.
I remember the emotions I felt during those years when my Ebenezers were less about recognizing God’s faithfulness and more about pleading requests and prayers.
Perhaps I won’t use a ranch stone anymore, but I already know what will be written on it…
SURROUNDED
by love, friendship, family, and community
and by a God who has been patient, merciful, and enduring.
May your new year bring a beautiful vision, but in your year’s end may you raise an Ebenezer. Because as important as it is to look forward to the future, it is equally valuable to look back and remember just how far you’ve come.
