we clean up alright!

the fab five went to the nutcracker the other night… amazing. here are the pics… j and I, dave getting harrassed, Jules and Amanda trying not to laugh… and dave & amanda being cute, as usual.

what matters most

I think that it hit me sometime Wednesday afternoon: the holiday rush is officially here. It may have been when Chatty-Cathy-on-her-Cellphone nonchalantly pulled into a parking spot I’d been patiently waiting on for about five minutes (as a family loaded up all thirteen of their children and all the groceries necessary to feed thirteen children into their truck). Chatty then looked at me like I was the crazy one when I held up my hands in protest. (I wanted to go yell at her like a good Irish girl should, but figured if I did so, she would show up at NewLife the following Sunday, so me and my righteous indignation kept silent). Or perhaps it was when it took me about twenty minutes to reach my parents’ house, normally five minutes from that same grocery store. I was feeling more than a little Ebenezer-ish by the time I finally tromped into the kitchen, where my sweet, loving mother took one look at me and ended up doubled-over in (quite mocking) laughter: “When I asked you to go pick up milk and bread on your way over, I never actually figured you’d do it… it is the day before Thanksgiving… I thought, ‘Man, she’s gullible today.’” Ah, the love.

(Some have been heralding the onset of this insanity for several weeks, and are thinking to themselves as they read this: “She’s just NOW feeling it?” Myles and Carly and others who find themselves working retail through the holidays, you have my deepest sympathy and respect. It’s been a while, but I still remember how kind and understanding customers can be as they descend en masse toward your poor register. Hang in there. And don’t let the repetitive droning of “Santa, Baby” from the overhead speakers make you too crazy.)

I love the holidays. I love being with my family and friends. I love the music and the beauty and the chill and the Christmas trees. I hate the stress and the rush and the crowds and the busyness and the battle that I typically find myself fighting to keep what’s most important, most important. It’s easy to simply let the wave of frenetic activity overtake us; to let cynicism creep in and poison what is supposed to be a season of joy and love; to let ourselves get a bit guilty about the fact that we often feel quite a bit less of that joy and love than we think we should…

In life, making what truly matters a true priority is a constant, conscious decision. During the months of November and December, for me at least, it’s more of a constant struggle than anything. It’s funny, really. Most years, I spend so much time stressing and running around from here to there, this store to that, and back again, trying to find perfect gifts… when what my friends and family really want more is for me to slow down long enough to look them in the eyes and enjoy their company… sharing some laughs (at my expense, typically!) and making memories.

I can’t really tell you what I received for Christmas last year (other than a bookshelf, which I love), but I can tell you how much fun it was to kick my mom’s tail last year in a snowball fight… how much I laughed til I cried as Abby (my old roommate) and I tried to set up our Christmas tree (several times, as it kept falling over at random moments, much to the detriment of our ornament collection)… listening to Frank Sinatra’s Christmas CD with my dad, the person I most love savoring music with… piling into a crowded living room to watch cheesy Christmas movies with all 20-something interns in a bittersweet combination of Christmas party and goodbye party…

Yeah, stuff’s nice (don’t worry, I still hope to come up with some cool gifts). But people are what really matter. I always have been one to roll my eyes a bit at all the cheesy reminders to remember the reason for the season; what Christmas is really all about, all those Hallmark-worthy types of sentiments. But honestly, I need them just as much as anyone.

I have a reminder, my favorite Christmas gift this year, arriving in just a few short weeks. In a 5′2″, blonde-curly-haired, sweet-hearted package. I haven’t had a Christmas with my grandma in fifteen years, but this year, we’ll be together. My grandpa passed away in August and she’s moving up from California to live with my parents. At grandpa’s funeral (my first loss of a close family member), I walked away with a new awareness of how much time matters. Although it seems like people will always be around, although it seems like there’ll always be ample time for being together (not just existing in the same proximity, but really, truly being together)… the truth is, it’s not so. People move on, people move away, people pass away. Opportunities are given; sometimes they are enjoyed, sometimes they are missed… but there is always an end to them. Maybe it’s a little more tangible with our older loved ones, but life offers no guarantees…

All the people we love, all the moments we get to share with them… they are precious. As Frederick Buechner says, “if you were aware of how precious [today] is, you could scarcely live through it. Unless you are aware of how precious it is, you can hardly be said to be living at all.”

I am going to slow down and enjoy people this year (and do a lot of my shopping online). In all the hectic rush and stresses that often accompany this next few weeks, my prayer for you would be that, more than anything, you are rich in moments and memories and people. May your heart be full, and may the people you love know it. (Long before the gifts are opened, and long after).

vulnerable

In our small groups we’ve just begun our Courageous Conversations series. I’m probably a little biased, 1) because I am (was) a communication major, and absolutely love this sort of thing; and 2) because I was a part of putting these materials together (just one of many people who put their hearts into making this happen)… but I think this is going to really help people to grow. It’s going to challenge people to be braver in their relationships; more authentic, more honest. But it will also teach people how to be more loving; more gracious; more humble in the way they approach other people. I can’t wait to hear the stories of healing in relationships… restored friendships… healthier families. (Will make the sleepless nights completely worth it).

One thing I’m discovering as I learn this stuff, however: honest & authentic relationships don’t come naturally. They take work. They take guts. They require vulnerability. Which, quite frankly, most of us aren’t very good at.

We humans prefer safety. We prefer to keep up pretense, assuming that other people only want to see us at our best. This works great, for a while, because all of us have moments when we shine. But then, of course, life happens. We face situations that stretch us beyond our capacity for perfection… we face circumstances that strip us of our ability to have it all together. We hate it. We fight so hard to keep our illusions, if not for the sake of others, certainly for ourselves. Just below the surface, however, we’re fully aware that we’re sometimes annoyed, sometimes frustrated, sometimes scared half out of our wits. Sometimes we mess up.

Admitting this, however, would mean admitting weakness. It would mean admitting that we’re human. Vulnerable. Wound-able. These kinds of admissions take more courage than most of us realize. We get so used to being loved for our successes, for all our doing… sometimes we wonder what response we’ll get in those moments when we fail. When we’re struggling, and far from our best.

It’s really no wonder we try so hard to keep up appearances. It’s so much safer.

If you’re me, you make nice little speeches from your safe little corner about how relationships and friendships are worth taking risks, and how you have to put yourself out there and be willing to be hurt sometimes… and all that. It all makes all kinds of sense from safe solid ground. Then, the moment you find yourself taking a itsy bitsy step away from your safe little corner, you’re quaking in your boots and trying not to chide yourself for your silly, naive bravado.

And then, and then. As you take those faltering steps, you find warm and friendly hearts in a small group that care about little things like whether or not you’ve found a roommate yet. You find that you can really say what you’re thinking… and the shrieks of horror at the fact that you’re flawed, and imperfect, and sometimes do dumb things — well, you never actually hear a single one, despite your certainty that folks would die of a coronary if they knew what you really think sometimes. (What you’re more likely to hear are sighs of relief. “Thank God, I’m not the only one!“) You meet friends who actually, genuinely, seem to enjoy you as you are. When you’re not even trying to be anything special. You find that there’s a gracious, patient heart that finds you cute when you were afraid the more apt term would be… not so cute. You find that it’s really and truly possible that people enjoy you… even when you’re just your plain-jane, goofy, normal self. Even in little-to-no makeup.

The risks are certainly present. Sometimes you make yourself vulnerable, and the world is fully the cold and cruel place it’s capable of being. But other times – and these are the times worth savoring – you allow yourself to be yourself, imperfections and all… and you find acceptance. Love. Grace. Based not on a pretend version of who you’d like to be if you could just get it together, but based on who you truly are – based on who God made you to be in the first place. This discovery brings about an amazing freedom… one that no amount of “pretend” can fake into being.

To my amazing family, to my dear friends – who have granted me the freedom to be my flawed and slightly goofy self… who have allowed me to be imperfect and still be loved more than I could ever imagine… thank you. This long-winded writer doesn’t have enough words… but thank you.

they have faces

This past Thursday morning found me in a van headed over to the Veteran’s Home in Retsil with Jeremy and some of the guys from his boat. We went to basically hang out with some of the residents, play cards, share stories, whatever the moment called for. It seemed a fitting thing, on Veteran’s Day, to show appreciation and honor in what small ways we could.
***
OK, pause for just a second: This is just too good not to share. One of the X.O.’s (yeah, I’m learning the lingo) who had ridden separately, walked up to the group as we stood around waiting to go inside. Jeremy, ever the gent, started to introduce me. Jim, ever the, um, not-so-much gent, busts out with this: “Ah, so you’re the flavor of the month?” I cocked my head, laughed, and said, “I just might be… I’m Stacey, nice to meetcha,” as I shook his hand. More laughter, as I catch the embarrassed look of slight horror on J’s face. Awesome.

Ding-ding. End, round one. Stacey: 10 points. Jeremy: in the negative by just a bit. Poor guy…

***
So, we went inside, and got to meet some of the residents. Got to listen to stories from Joe and John and David… where they served, where they’ve lived, what they’ve seen. All these guys need are a few good questions and a listening ear, and they’re off and running. I thoroughly enjoyed myself. And, maybe it’s just the fact that I’m a young blonde thing, but they for sure still know how to treat a lady. They were so sweet… I couldn’t stop smiling.

After this, we went to a Veteran’s Day service in the Home’s chapel. Two memorable moments: our entire pew attempting not to laugh as we enjoyed the ridiculously overdramatic vocal stylings of one of the singers (I would attempt a description, but alas, words fail me). The second memory struck a more serious note. An older general was our main speaker for the service. It was obvious fairly quickly that he was skilled more as a leader than an orator, but there was an emotion beneath his words that made me take notice of what he was trying to share up there at the podium.

As he spoke, his frustration (and perhaps, bitterness) was apparent. His main issue was this: many of the sacrifices that have been made for our country and its people have been forgotten, have been tossed aside. Worse, in all the rhetoric surrounding war, especially this war, some have vilified those in uniform, have dishonored them, rather than being grateful for the sacrifices they make. He maintained his composure as he went on to paint a picture of heroism and bravery, but I couldn’t help but be moved by those few passionate words.

Even amidst all the ugliness splattered across the Nation & World section of our paper, I know I’m not as sensitive as I should be to what’s happening in the desert, half a world away. I can’t see things in the same light as this general; I haven’t said a casual goodbye to buddies only to have them killed before I saw them next. I know I should feel it; but sometimes it’s just easier to clamp my hands over my ears and close my eyes tight. Sometimes it’s just easier to grow calloused and numb and get on with the everyday rhythms that fill my life. People don’t forget because they want to be cold or cruel; they forget because, well, it’s just easier that way.

And then somehow, the ugliness, the heartbreak of it – hits home. Over the past three days, the paper has been running articles about three local women who lost their husbands over in Iraq. One of them I remember particularly well, because I followed the story closely and found myself praying often – her husband was missing for three weeks before they found him – I read an update on Michelle and her children and thought, has it really been eight months already? My eyes filled with tears here at my desk as I asked God to continue to be near them in these moments, when the fanfare and noise is starting to die down, and all they’re left with is the quiet pain of their loss.

Part of being human, part of being a citizen of the world, is allowing yourself to care about what happens within it. Allowing your eyes to linger, even just for a moment, on painfilled people and places, rather than skimming right over them in favor of a shallow ignorance born of convenience. This past week, these faces – old guys with stories, an embittered general, a young grieving wife struggling to move on – helped me appreciate once again what has been given, what is being given, for my sake. The reminder hurts, as it should, but I’m grateful for it. I needed to be reminded that these numbers have faces. They have families. They have hearts.

Lord, be with our troops. Bring them home soon. Be with their families. Be especially near to the brokenhearted, who find themselves waiting for someone who isn’t coming home. God, I know it’s a lot to ask, but bring peace. Amen.

just in case it wasn’t completely obvious what a total and complete helpless romantic I am…

So Carly is in a wedding this weekend and was asked to read something. So Carly hadn’t really figured out what to read. So Carly asked her good ole pal Stacey to find or write something. I figured writing something couldn’t be as bad as googling for hours… so I sat down tonight and here’s what I ended up with. I wonder how many people I can make cry? Yeah, it’s sentimental, yeah, it’s idealistic… but those are two things you want at a wedding, of all things. Here goes. And if you think it sucks, I don’t want to hear it. Because it’s all I got. And, consequently, all Carly’s got.

I PROMISE

Today two hearts have spoken a promise; one that, among all promises, is the most precious and amazing promise we can know in this life. Precious, because it says this: “Of all the people with whom I could choose to share a life, I choose you.” Amazing, because it says, “Even though I can’t see what this life will bring our way, even though I have no idea what joys and trials lie ahead… I will continue to choose you. I will choose you – I will choose this promise -every day of our lives.”

“In moments when your heart is alive with joy, I will be the one thrilled to be sharing them with you. When cruel circumstances or even your own failures have bowed your head and heart low, I will be the one who believes in you… who sees not only what you are in this moment, but also what you will become. When your successes are celebrated, and all the world around you applauds, please know that I will be the one cheering the loudest. When your path seems dark and unclear, when you feel lost and without hope, I will be the one who takes your hand and walks with you, no matter how rough the terrain may become. Even when frustrations and doubts creep in, in moments when we may both wonder what kind of craziness led us to this promise – even then, I will still be there, choosing you, choosing our love. In quiet and peaceful moments, when we’re doing nothing in particular, I will be the one to catch your gaze and smile, fully amazed at how on earth I got so lucky.”

Today two hearts have spoken a promise, for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer. As these two hearts continue to repeat this promise – in both moments of sheer happiness, and in moments of deep sorrow, they will make an awe-inspiring, astounding discovery: They will realize that, regardless of circumstance, they’ve already found the best this life has to offer. They will find that, no matter how large or small their pile of treasures becomes, they already possess all the riches worth having. They will know that in this precious and amazing promise, they have given and received the best gift of all – a love that lasts a lifetime. A love that is truly worth giving and receiving, better and worse, richer and poorer, in all the moments, days and years to come.

big surprise… ha ha

I am the Girl Next Door Take the ‘What Kind of Girl Are You?’ quiz here. Yeah, I know… dumb random quiz… but it was fun and I was bored… thanks to Krista’s blog where I saw this…

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Happy Birthday, Myles Philip Werntz!!! Have a great day!

time to fly

It’s been a bit of a strange season this last little bit. I’ve gotten so used to sharing so much of my heart here… and now I find myself faced with a situation where, although my heart is quite alive and full, there’s no way I would or should share it all, at least not right now. Suffice it to say, I’m smiling a lot more lately than I really have any justification for. And, for some reason, watching football of all things. I’ll leave it at that.
***
In other news, I finished my NewLife project on Sunday afternoon. Basically what I did is put together eight weeks of written materials for our small groups… compiling the teaching materials and then writing (hopefully) intelligent discussion questions to get people talking. (And, because I’m a font snob, etc., trying to make it visually appealing). The Courageous Conversations series begins this coming week… focusing on Jesus’ conversations with people throughout the book of John during the Sunday message, and then focusing on practical communication skills (based on Jesus’ example of truth and grace) in the weekly small group Bible study. You know, it’s really just a small thing… but I’m excited to have been a part of equipping people in the body to grow and become more like Jesus. My small gift was needed and used, and I couldn’t ask for more than that.

Wes and I had our last official meeting yesterday. We’ve been meeting once a week (for both assignments and mentoring) for at least six months. As the church has been growing so rapidly, his time has become more and more squeezed. I sent him an email just letting him know that I was open to adjusting when and how often we meet, that I understand, that I wouldn’t be upset or hurt if he couldn’t take the same kind of time he did when I was first finding my feet.

As I was writing the email, a realization hit me that a quiet confidence – one I’ve never known before, not ever – has steadily been growing in me over the past year. A consummate people pleaser all my life, I’ve been finding more and more that I don’t need the same kind of cheerleading I once did. Doing what I know I’m good at, what I know I’ve been uniquely created to do… puts a confidence in my gut that remains steady, regardless of whether I hear any “good job!” or not. I am fulfilled in the work God has placed in my hands to do. It’s work, it’s hard work; but it fuels me rather than draining me. I need no one else to say what my heart wholly recognizes: I have come alive.

It was a bittersweet moment, really. I got the sense that I was being pushed out of the nest a little. And while I wanted to exude an “I’m ok with this” attitude, I also didn’t want to seem to say to Wes, “Hey, no big deal. I won’t miss this.” I mean, come on. The guy’s been my youth pastor since I was seventeen, he and Kari basically watched me (and helped me) grow up. It’s weird, it’s not like I won’t still see him and work with him all the time (and, as long as there are babysitters needed, I’ll be hanging out with the Davises)… but I recognize that this is a new place, a fundamental change from “intern” to… whatever the heck you’d call me now.

The cool thing is that I’m now going to be working with Dan, our group life pastor, one of the coolest human beings I’ve ever had the privilege of knowing. If there’s a pastor other than Wes who has just made it his mission to encourage me in all this, it’s him. It’s a great fit.

All this change – all these new steps. All in God’s hands. All I can say is, I’m amazed.

welcome to the jungle

In other news, Jules & I watched five kids last night, all of them but Klara (the sixmonthold) hyped up on cake and large amounts of candy, thanks to the pinata. (Austin just turned six). Hyper they were, but it was still a fun night. Dang, they’re cute.
(Dogpiling miss Stacey)

early calm

Ah… almost done. There are times in life you just feel a sense of accomplishment that, dang it, you finished something! I am about two hours from that feeling, as my NL small group materials are almost finished. Proof indeed that miracles still happen! But I needed a quick break, so here I am.

I’m drinking some hot chocolate, listening to Norah Jones… and I have no intentions of changing out of my pajamas any time soon. This, my friends, is a glorious morning. It’s foggy and freezing outside, and the realization is starting to sink in that indeed, my favorite time of year is just around the corner. In about twenty days, I’m justified in playing Christmas music 24/7, and going out and cutting down my very own tree, which will fill my apartment with what can only be described as the best smell ever. (Although I hope I don’t set it up on my own this year. This one time, two hours into attempting to set my tree up, only to have it fall down a seventeenth time… let’s just say I wasn’t so much into the Christmas spirit, as I found myself glad not to have anyone around to hear my, um, exclamations.)

My heart comes alive just a little more during this season, as songs of joy and love and Christ fill the air, and as my family and I spend precious, laughter-filled moments together. And let’s not forget… THE FOOD. Things will be even more special (although a little painful) because we’ll have Grandma with us. Special because she’ll be able to be with us, sad because, for the first time, he won’t be. God will be with us in that moment, I know it.

Anyway, sometimes you just catch yourself in a moment when your heart is full – not only with what is, in this very moment, but also, full of what will be. I caught myself this morning, and just wanted to share it.

Be blessed today. God is with us.