Show Notes: Ep 2 When The Christmas You Plan Isn't The Christmas You Get

The people walking in darkness have seen a great light; on those living in the land of deep darkness, a light has dawned.--Isaiah 9:2

Looking around on social media and talking with friends, it seems to me that Christmas spirit is running a bit low this year. I think one reason Christmas feels so hard for some of us is because we want what we've been sold. And what we've been sold is the picture of a perfect, cozy holiday where all the hard things are shored up just in time for Christmas. In reality, hard things don't take off for the holidays. Stress, illness, divorce, brokenness can be deal with or overlooked for the sake of the day, but it isn't resolved. And we crave that resolution. We want what we've been promised and we want it with some twinkle lights and a red bow and some hot cocoa.

So what do we do? If you're me this year you complain. A lot. And then you have a breakthrough. What if all the hard is supposed to help us pare down? What if the struggle is designed to make us go slow?

In days gone by, when the church year organized daily life and the darkness of winter had greater impact, Advent was a time of reflection, resting, retreating before the big celebration. We've lost that over the centuries and I think something precious was stolen from us. The Christmas season now is so bustling full, there's no room for the real light to break through. And that's what we really need. That's what we were actually promised.

Humans haven't had perfection since Eden and the fall. Thought we've been duped with the image of it ever since. The false perfection only creates more anxiety, more isolation, more hunger. We must learn to let it go so we can hold the true perfection.

It came in the form of a baby boy. Helpless, wriggling, squishy, crying baby. The fullness of God, salvation, and the longed for perfection emerged from a woman's womb into a dark stable on a starlit night. It's a far cry from a Hallmark movie.

But in this breakthrough from Heaven, in this bold incredulous move by the Godhead, we humans can have what we truly crave. Restoration, peace hope, perhaps even joy. Oh, the hard doesn't go away. The hard came for Jesus and sent his family fleeing to Egypt. The hard found him thirty years later and nailed him to a tree. Yet in His suffering, he bought our freedom. And in our suffering, we learn to love and trust and live like he did.

It isn't easy. We don't have script writers, directors, editors, and make-up artists working out all the flaws. Instead, we have the Author and Perfecter of our faith. Indeed, we have the Word made flesh.

In Him was the life and the life was the light of mankind. The light shines in the darkness and the darkness has not overcome it. --John 1:4-5

Gather the Good

"Mary had several plans for her first Christmas at Appleshaw but none of them materialized. That, she thought, was the way of Christmas plans. There was something disruptive about Christmas and not only in the merely material way. The original Christmas had proved exceedingly disruptive to the entire world and the tremors of the original event vibrated through every life year by year.--The Scent of Water, by Elizabeth Goudge. 

This December hasn't gone according to plan. The vision I had for this season has fallen apart. The lists we joyfully checked off last year have been a hot mess this year. I've not handled it graciously. But there is still good to be gathered. As I'm learning--you take the best and you leave the rest.

So here is my best of December 2019:

I've already recommended Joel Clarkson but it bears repeating. We also love For King and Country's Christmas Album. It's been a favorite for a few years but we were blown away by their performance on CMA Country Christmas. I hear that's playing again on Christmas Eve so you might want to check it out, or you can always YouTube it [or read this post on Little Drummer Boy. Their clip is at the end.] I also recommend Rend Collective's Campfire Christmas. It's a really great album, super fun songs, and also some really poignant songs. Definitely check it out.

Also for your listening enjoyment, I recommend the podcast 'Speaking With Joy'. Hosted by Joy Clarkson, yes, that's Joel's sister, she delves into the themes of Advent and presents up with beautiful art, music, and literature. I know it's later in the season but turn it on while you drive or wrap gifts. You'll be glad you did. I absolutely love this podcast. I've learned a lot.

And last I'm ending with some clips of my kids. My seven year old learned to play a little bit of piano this December. He also wanted to recite his memory verse. And of course, my almost four year old couldn't be left out, so she sings her little remix of 'Jingle Bells'.

From my family to yours, have a happy, imperfect, joyous Christmas. Happy Holidays!

Show Notes: Ep1 Why Plotting Possibility?

"You see the world glittering with possibility."  --Once More, The Sayen Falls Series: Novel 1 

Glittering with possibility. This is a quote from my first full length novel, Once More. It's a little phrase I love because I used to be that way. I used to notice the sparkle in everyday things. I suppose adulthood and struggles eroded the glitter right out of my eyesight.

But I believe it's possible to learn to see the world glitter with possibility again. To see potential and magic and wonder, to imagine what could be or what once was. It's a work of the heart as well as the mind to have this type of second sight. But why bother? What's the value in it?

 It can't be measured or quantified. No one pays you to notice how hundreds of fireflies in a cornfield make it look like someone has put glitter in the crop-duster...or that perhaps fairies have come out in the twilight. Instead, we talk of imagination as a thing that's nice if you have the time, but who has time here in the 21st century? We're all SO busy!

However, the more I think on it, I listen to experts, and read beautiful books, I'm sure that imagination and creativity and wonder aren't optional add-on accessories for the modern life. They're essentials. It's not like power windows and bluetooth capability. It's more like the gas pedal. You gotta have it or you're not getting anywhere.

I spent many hours mulling over names for my brand before I finally alighted on Plotting Possibility. I liked the alteration of it, and it seemed easy enough to remember. And I absolutely adored what it means to me.

As a writer, I work in plots and possibilities. But there's so much more here to unpack. To go on a journey, one plots a course. A farmer works a plot of land. There's intention for the journeyer and space for the cultivator. We're all writers and journeyers and farmers, whether or not we know it. Each of us has a story to tell. Each of us has to chart our course through life. Each of us has to choose what to sow so we can truly bloom where we're planted.

The possibilities in your life are rich and vibrant. Glittering possibility doesn't require a big paycheck or trips around the world or being well-connected. It requires the self-discipline to pull out of the social media hamster wheel and the economic rat race to actually enjoy life. It requires lovely thoughts, as our magical friend Peter Pan tells us, if we want to fly. It's all to do with imagination, wonder, and noticing beautiful things in the world all around.

It's my intention for  Plotting Possibility to be a space where imagination reigns supreme. Hope is in the very air we breathe here in this space. Wonder, enthusiasm, passion....all those lovelies that can't be measured....that's what we're trafficking in. This isn't reserved for the "artsy" types or those "creatives". Possibility and wonder are for us all; the right brained and the left brained; the Type As and the Type Bs; the Marilla Cuthberts and the Anne Shirleys. After all, God created the wonders of the world for all to enjoy. He designed each of us with intentional purpose and made us in His image so we can imagine, create, and plan. There isn't one personality type that isn't fit for His grace and love and Kingdom cause. We're all welcome to the table of His goodness. So, all are welcome here.

In future episodes, we'll talk about books, movies, music, the arts, mental health, friendship, and anything else that celebrates wonder and light. The possibilities are endless and I hope you'll join me for the journey!

Gather the Good

It's time to Gather the Good. 

I'll try to end every episode with a few good things I'm enjoying currently. I have to tell you, the phrase Gather the Good isn't my brainchild. I'm adopting it from the Irish band We Banjo 3. Its the name of one of their albums and I've always loved it. And it's exactly what I want to do for you. I want to gather up good things to share and enjoy together. [In the show notes I will provide links to the artist's website, Spotify albums, Good Reads pages, and links to stream or purchase as I can.]

So let's get started. 

I've been reading books by the English author Elizabeth Goudge lately. She warrants an entire episode once I wrap my head around all I want to say. But for now, let me recommend to you the novels City of Bells, The Scent of Water, and The Dean's Watch. Goudge writes with a passion for beauty but with honesty that being a human is hard. I find myself in each of her books, and walk away much encouraged. [Added note: Check your local library for Goudge's books. Some are out of print here in the US, but I found a good number of them through my library.]

If you want the perfect music to accompany your reading, listen to Joel Clarkson's instrumental albums Midwinter Carol's volumes one and two. These are also perfect for adding to your holiday playlists. And paired with Elizabeth Goudge, pure beauty for your senses! 

I'm still working my way through my favorite Christmas movies. Is it just me or has this December been moving at warp speed? Anyway, it's absolutely not Christmas if I don't get to see Muppets Christmas Carol and White Christmas. If you've never seen them, stop whatever you're doing and change that now. You'll be glad you did. Two other favorites of mine that are less well known are Never Say Goodbye which is a hilarious comedy with Errol Flynn, The Man Who Came To Dinner another laugh out loud comedy with Monty Wooly and Bette Davis. And last but not least, It's A Wonderful Life. I started it with my husband the other night and we had to stop it just as George Bailey starts to get desperate. I've been a huge Jimmy Stewart fan all my life, but last year was the first time this movie made me cry. It was the one-two punch, when Harry Bailey toasts his big brother as the richest man in town and Clarence the angel leaves George the note which reads "remember, no man is a failure who has friends." [Again, check your local library for titles particularly if you don't subscribe to streaming services]

So grab a couple friends, and gather the good!

10 Things I've Learned from Les Miserables

(Fair Warning: There will be plot spoilers so if you're unfamiliar, go rent/stream the 10th Anniversary Concert, the 25th Anniversary Concert, or the Hugh Jackman film and come back. Or, if you'd rather, here's a great synopsis.)

July 1994
On top of the Empire State Building

My backstory: 

I first saw Les Mis in 1994 with my dad on a hot summer's day in New York City. We were vacationing in relatively nearby Ocean City, New Jersey, and Dad took me up to the Big Apple for a day. I was nine-and-a-half years old. I remember on our drive into the city my dad explained two things to me. One, don't look at anyone in a raincoat because they might be a flasher (this stayed with me for years ). Two, for the purposes of seeing Les Mis, he had to explain prostitution. Of the two, the flasher thing was more traumatizing. I was wary of trench raincoats for years. 

I'm sure I barely understood what was happening in the show and I certainly didn't grasp the  profound themes of human nature, but something magical happened to me. Magic always happens with Les Mis and me. And on that hot July day, a spell was cast on me that has lingered for the last twenty-five years and shows no signs of fading. 

May 1998
7th Grade Choir Concert

When my dad purchased the three-disc complete symphonic recording I commandeered it and made it mine. Sorry, not sorry. I read the liner notes cover to cover multiple times. I learned about where the cast members were from and how they did the recording. And I poured over the lyrics to soak them up. I must've been about eleven or twelve by then. The second disc was my favorite. It had all of Eponine's songs. And I really loved me some Eponine. When I was thirteen, I got to sing "On My Own" for my first real solo at the seventh grade choir concert. I remember our director raising an eyebrow when I asked if I could, but he humored me and it remains one of the proudest moments in my personal history. (Incidentally, it's been twenty-two years and I can still sing every word with as much feeling and gusto as I did then. Probably more.)  

April 2011
Playhouse Square

Les Mis has a way of surfacing when I need it. As a teenager it gave me music for my emotions. As a twenty-something it was a declaration of the triumph of grace and light. As a worn out mom in my mid-thirties, it refills my cup with the fullness of music, story, and magic. I got to see the 2019 staged production in a cinema showing on my thirty-fifth birthday the other night. It was everything I needed and more.

The deep connection I've had with this show for twenty-five years has proven to be rich and enriching. I've grown up, like a little Cosette, with the story and songs of Les Miserables as a sort of soundtrack running in the background of my life. I certainly had no idea as a wide-eyed nine-year-old little girl of the gift I was given that summer day in New York City, but it's one I now hold very dear indeed. 

The lessons: 

The themes of grace, redemption, love, mercy, justice, friendship, comradeship, sacrifice, light, and dark didn't become clear to me until I hit adulthood. There are about as many themes as there are characters and scene changes in Les Miserables (so a lot). Every time I do a deep dive back into it I resurface with some new truth uncovered. Reading the novel enhanced that by about a billion. It's a hefty tome, but I recommend reading it at least once. The character development alone is enough reason to power through the girth. In the rest of this post, I'll share with you just ten lyrics that have taught me something or resonated deeply with me over the years.

1. To love another person is to see the face of God: This is hands-down my favorite lyric from any show or any song ever. And my favorite book of the Bible is 1 John. What in the world do these two things have in common? This verse right here, which I'm sharing in the Amplified translation because I like how full it is. "No one has seen God at any time. But if we love one another [with unselfish concern], God abides in us, and His love [the love that is His essence abides in us and] is completed and perfected in us." (1 John 4:12) Because God is love and mankind is made in His image when we love, we are showing Him to others, and seeing Him in the object of our love. It's not easy to remember. Unselfish love is not the typical knee-jerk reaction when we're wronged or have our patience tested, but it is the manifestation of God within us. This kind of love changes both the giver and the recipient. This kind of love is actually divine.  

2. "Another story must begin!": Okay, so honestly, I used to gloss over the beginning because I was all about the students later on. But then, as I grew older, I realized that the most incredible thing happens in the prologue. After Valjean is released from prison, he's treated abominably by people in the villages where he tries to make a life. Then, the kind old Bishop of Digne invites him to stay for the night. This scene is even more powerful in the book as Hugo tells us what the Bishop's servants think (Bishop be crazy) and how precious the silver really is to the Bishop. In the musical, we see Valjean marvel at the foolishness of the Bishop in trusting him as he steals the silver. He's caught and arrested (as a kid, I always thought maybe he wouldn't have been caught if he didn't sing about it so loudly. *shrug*) and brought back to the Bishop. Valjean has told his captors that the silver was a gift from the Bishop, and shockingly, he corroborates the story. In an act of heaping mercy, the Bishop also gifts Valjean the silver candlesticks which he had left behind. As he does he tells him that he must use the profit from selling the precious silver to become an honest man, that in his act of forgiveness and mercy, he is showing him God's love, and it must change his life. This single act of radical kindness changes the trajectory of Valjean's life which then in turn saves the lives of Cosette and later Marius. Because Valjean experiences the sacrificial, radical love of God through the Bishop, he has to grapple with his own sin and hatred. He recognizes that this is a crossroads. Does he allow himself to be changed by this love? Or does he cling to what he knows? For Jean Valjean, he must literally create a new identity and begin again, but I find this a brilliant example of how we are all made new in Christ. Valjean becomes a new creation through redemptive love and mercy, and although we aren't convicts fresh off the chain gang, we too must be made new in Christ. And in that new identity, there is freedom to love and forgive generously.

3. "Even the darkest night will end and the sun will rise." : Darkness doesn't get to win; light is always the victor in the end. This line is taken from the epilogue, when all the characters who have died return as a somewhat ghostly chorus. It begins very softly and faintly, but it is "the music of a people who are climbing to the light." By the time the last notes ring out, it's a full fanfare about the victory that's promised "when tomorrow comes." I am one who often has to climb to the light. To put it as simply as I can, depression is hell. When I'm experiencing depression, it cuts off all that is good, healthy, and light from my experience. I know it's out there, but I can't reach it. I can't make it mine. Still, I climb for the light not just because I know it's there, but because I am a child of God. There's a fullness of life that is my birthright now. It is absolutely worth the struggle--I am worth the struggle--to fight the darkness of the night, and sing as the sun rises.

4."It is time for us all to decide who we are...": Very recently I realized how intensely devoted almost every character is to something or someone, and they each have a point at which they're willing to die for it. Fantine is desperately devoted to the well-being of her beloved child. Javert is devoted obsessed with justice; Enjorlas with equality and freedom. Grantaire is devoted to both wine and his friendship with Enjorlas (usually in that order). Eponine is devoted to Marius. Marius is devoted to both the cause of equality and to his new found love, Cosette, and ballads passionately about the conflict. Cosette is devoted to her father and to Marius. And Jean Valjean, the star, he's devoted to loving and protecting Cosette, and honoring God and using every bit of the redemptive grace he was given for the good of others. Devotion abounds, people, it's dripping off the walls. It's probably embarrassing it took me two and a half decades to really notice it. (continued in #5)

5. "We're the ones who make it in the end." : The exception to all this devotion is the Thernadiers who care only for themselves and self-preservation. The contrast, in fact, is startling. As they tell us, they're the ones who make it in the end.  And they're right. Spoiler: by the time the curtain falls, only four characters are still alive--the young lovers, Marius and Cosette, and the stinking Thernadiers. But what is the survival of the Thernadiers for? Their legacy is worthless. Utterly and entirely worthless because it only serves themselves and their good fortune is only ever temporary. On the other hand, the lives and sacrifices of (almost) all the others are beautiful. To love deeply and truly, and to be devoted sincerely to an ideal gives meaning to their lives and purpose in their legacy. The love, friendship, and devotion can carry Marius and Cosette into their future together infused with strength of those they've lost. Which prompts me to consider my convictions, my personal sacrifices, and the legacy I'm crafting. A legacy doesn't just pop up upon death, instead, it's the culmination of things cultivated in life. What do I believe in passionately? Who do I love unselfishly and sacrificially? What foundation am I crafting for those who will carry on when my time has passed? If my life is all about me, it's worthless. If my love stops just short of sacrificial, it's incomplete. If my convictions run dry when tested, they don't have much value

6. "My heart is stone and still it trembles.": There is one more exception to this devotion rule. Javert's obsession with justice ends up being the end of him. And try as I might, I can't find anything redemptive about it. Instead, what I learn is that mercy is a polarizing thing. It either changes you or it hardens you. Case in point? Inspector Javert. Over the years, I've come to see his suicide as one of the saddest parts in the show. Michael Ball's recent performance as the inspector definitely aided in that sympathy. But the heartbreaking thing about Javert is his deep misunderstanding of God, the law, and humanity. When he's offered mercy, it breaks him. The same act that set Valjean free to live a redeemed life, condemns Javert to suicide. His devotion to justice crowds out any room for mercy. His intense distrust for mankind pushes away any connection he might make. His legalistic understanding of salvation leaves him without any place for the love of Christ. He's a strong contender for the most tragic figure I've ever encountered in a musical.

7. "In my need, you have always been there.": If "Bring Him Home" isn't one of the most emotional songs in a musical, then I don't know what is. And here's the thing, in the musical, it sorta gets lost that Valjean marches his self to the barricade hell-bent on killing Marius after he intercepts the love letter to Cosette. Then, he's so impressed with Marius that he ends up saving his life. But in the musical, since this is the way musicals work, we get this incredible song. The whole thing is a prayer in which Valjean wholly recognizes that it's all in God's hands. I personally really love this lyric because I know that in my own life, God has always been there. Through heartaches and trauma and grief, God has never left me. That doesn't mean I've always gotten my way or that life is just sunshine and roses. Go back and re-read that line about heartache and trauma and grief. Life is life and sometimes it knocks the wind right out of you. And yet God remains steadfast, and I can always call on Him. I also like that God's way of answering Valjean's prayer is to make him an active participant in making it so. Marius isn't miraculously spared from any injury; instead Valjean carries him through sewers and pleads with Javert to give the boy a fighting chance to live. And, in my experience, God's answers to prayers usually require us to step up and do something too.

8. "This rain will wash away what's past...and rain will make the flowers grow.": Major spoiler: This is the heart wrenching moment between Marius and Eponine when she finally feels the warmth of his embrace and love as she dies in his arms. It's rough. Yet there is something so poignant and hopeful about Eponine. Unlike her parents, the Thernadiers, she's not bitter, covetous, and nasty. Eponine takes her hardships in stride, constantly imagining what could be and giving of herself to an absolute fault. In this song, she tells us that rain is really okay. That sorrow can lead to healing, that darkness precedes light. And rain is actually life-giving. Without it flowers don't bloom, trees wither, fields die from want of water. How too we humans blossom and grow with rain, even if we think all we really want is sunny days without the challenges of clouds and storms. The truth is, if we want beauty and strength, we must accept also what is bleak and hard. 

9. "I will never go away and we will be together every day.": Okay, full disclosure, I used to make fun of this line. Like, okay, Cosette, literally all of Marius' friends have just senselessly died, but it's alright because you exist. That's not narcissistic at all, sweetie. But I was terribly wrong about Cosette! What she's doing in this moment is drawing Marius from the edge of despair. He has survivor's guilt and is deeply grieving his friends. Grief is important. He must grieve, he should grieve. But he can not stay there, it will consume him. And Cosette knows this. With gentleness and hope, she helps him recall that his life has meaning, and that there is love in it. Love, as we have already seen, is a very powerful thing. Love and hope have the strength to pull us back from the edge of darkest despair.

10. "Take my hand, I'll lead you to salvation. Take my love for love is everlasting.": Les Mis shows us the vital importance of human connection, tenderness, and friendship. Without it we become narrow-minded, self-serving, and cruel. In the absence of love and mercy, only brutality and depravity can grow. Yet when love and mercy are given, hope is born. And out of hope, all manner of new life begins. Kindness, gentleness, sacrificial love, honor, and integrity blossom and take deep root. In friendship and camaraderie, there is strength to stand in the darkness and proclaim the light. It is love that lasts forever and ever. "And now there remain: faith [abiding trust in God and His promises], hope [confident expectation of eternal salvation], love [unselfish love for others growing out of God’s love for me], these three [the choicest graces]; but the greatest of these is love." (1 Corinthians 13:13)

And if you made it to the end....here's a special treat! I've been binge-watching this clip for about a week now. Michael Ball and Bradley Jaden singing a duet version of "Stars". It's pretty fantastic. 

The Season of Breaking Through (Gather the Good)

"Emmanuel has come to us. The Christ is born, Hallelujah! Our God made low to raise us up. Emmanuel, has come to us." ---God Made Low

Next Sunday is the start of Advent, December 1st. Whether you are religious or not, the Christmas season comes hard and heavy, at least in most parts of the Western World. We get bombarded with tinsel, gift wrapping, and Bing Crosby for at least twenty-five days straight. I think we all end up feeling rather Charlie Brown about it, that Christmas is too commercial, and can't we all just sing around a sad little tree in the spirit of love and friendship? Nope. We know we can't. Expectations and pressure and the burden of perfect, magical memories weight heavy. It's a lot.

To be quite honest, some years I feel Christmas, and some years I don't. This year, I've been feeling a decent amount of anxiety about it. I feel overwhelmed by the burden of expectations and wish lists. I'm tired and don't have any idea how to muster up the wherewithal to pull it off. I know I am not alone.

"As He sleeps upon the hay He holds the moon and stars in place. Though born an infant He remains the sovereign God of endless days."--God Made Low

We sang a brand new (to me) Christmas song this past week at church. There was something about hearing a totally new song on such a familiar subject that was able to chip away a bit of the rock formation around my heart. In that moment of clarity, in the respite from the weariness, I understood that this is the season of breaking through.

Breakthroughs are amazing things. Sometimes the breakthroughs seem small to us grown people, like the light bulb that finally went off for my son that unlocked the world of reading, or when my daughter figured out potty training. We did these things so long ago that we forget the independence and sense of pride that came with them. Some breakthroughs impact the world--like when Edison finally got his light bulb right. And some breakthroughs happen in inches and degrees and in the mundane everyday moments, like when I choose patience over anger, gratitude over entitlement, grace over bitterness.

"You didn't want Heaven without us, so, Jesus, you brought Heaven down..."--What a Beautiful Name

And for Christians,  Christmas is when we stop to remember the moment when Christ broke through. His breakthrough was like none other in all of history or mankind. He broke through the wall of darkness that separated the created from the Creator, the beloved from the lover, the children from their Father. His break through demanded the attention of all heaven and hell, even though most of the Earthlings slept right through it.

I don't really care if it's historically accurate to celebrate this moment in late December. I don't really care about Saturnalia and pagan roots. It's interesting conversation, but it's not exactly the point. The point is that Jesus came, he saw, he conquered (and he did it a lot better than Caesar), and it's worth remembering, it's worth celebrating. I realize that the victory came at Calvary, but without Bethlehem, we have no way to the cross. To rend the veil in the temple, a breach first had to be made into our world at all.

"For all our sins one day He'll die to make us sons of God on high. Let every heart prepare Him room. The promises have all come true."--God Made Low

Since I was in middle school, I read a book almost every year called The Birth by Gene Edwards. It's a short little book, probably a novella actually. And it's told from the perspective of Michael and Gabriel, the archangels. In this book, Michael actually has to bust a hole in an iron or steel wall that has come to separate Earth from Heaven so that Gabriel can get through to Mary. I don't know if that's a Biblically accurate idea or not, but it's a powerful one anyway. There had to be a literal breakthrough on the part of Heaven to penetrate the palpable darkness of sin and evil coating the entire world. And not just a message came through. Emmanuel. God with us. Jesus.

So. It's late November. Thanksgiving is just a few days away. We decorated our tree and my Amazon shopping cart is full. Christmas steadily approaches. The question is: will this be a season of breakthrough in my own heart? Will the coating of weariness, uncertainty, frustration be busted open in this season of light? God, I hope so, I pray so. Let it be so. Let the trappings and burdens fall away. They're not real. They don't matter in the end. What matters is the breakthrough. I know I need one this year. And I'm pretty sure I'm not alone.

I'll be sharing some of my favorite Christmas music, books, recipes, and so on here on the blog over the next weeks and days. It's a deliberate choice on my part to share beautiful things when I would rather just skip it and sleep. I had a realization the other day that beauty ingested but not shared will only ferment and rot inside. So, I'll be sharing and I hope it blesses you, and helps you find some light in a frazzled season.

"God rest ye, merry gentlemen, let nothing you dismay. Remember Christ our Savior was born on Christmas Day to save us all from Satan's pow'r when we were gone astray. O' tidings of comfort and joy, comfort and joy. O' tidings of comfort and joy!" --God Rest Ye Merry Gentlmen

Gathering the Good in a Fallow Year

 2019 has been an unusual year for me, personally and writingly. (Hey, Shakespeare made up words and everyone was okay with it). I've felt that this has been somewhat of a fallow year for me. A year of letting the fields go dormant and seeing what wild things grow, what nutrients need restored, and what can bloom in rest. I've picked away at writing here and there, but I've not made significant progress in anything. And that's okay. Believe me--it's taken a lot of work for me to get to the point where I can say that it is okay. When you self-identify as a writer and you stop writing, it's kind of an existential crisis.

Now, however, I want to start blogging again, because in this year I have discovered and cultivated so many beautiful things that bring me joy or catharsis or meaning. I've gobbled up fascinating books and practically brainwashed my family with music on repeat and brewed life-changing cups of tea and even sat awhile in passive entertainment with movies and shows. Off and on, I've thought to myself: I should blog about this! Book lists! Beauty! All the things! But then the words slip off of my fingers, like rings that need sized to fit, and I do not write.

Full disclosure: I'm a little nervous declaring some big return to writing or blogging or whatever. As if it matters terribly much to anyone other than me. But I have one of those personalities that craves all the things and has grand intentions, but then runs off to watch clouds change shape or to pick up another book full of someone else's words. In other words: I'm a creative with ADD.

And yet...it's a wonderful little phrase, isn't it? And yet....There's possibility in it that despite how things are, there may be something else. Ahem, anyway. And yet, I plan to share here some of the very beautiful things I have loved this year. Movies, shows, novels, picture books, non-fiction books, tea blends, music, bands, podcasts....I'm going to gather up this goodness and leave it for you here. So should you ever find yourself in need of something beautiful, or a simple joy, you can find some suggestions. After all, so many of the things I have enjoyed this year came on the recommendation of others. Isn't the internet a marvelous place that way? People I've never met in real life have led me to fountains of loveliness, and perhaps, I can leave a well for others.

One of the most important lessons I have learned in this fallow year is that beauty matters. Oh, it can feel like a waste of time, or that no one in all the world cares, but that simply isn't so. God himself revels in beauty. Look around at this colorful world! Outside my window right now is a tree turning the most remarkable shade of golden yellow. On Sunday I marveled with my children and my nieces at the bright pink of flamingos. And my son and my daughter and myself all have uniquely different shades of green eyes...my daughter's are so dark that the green can only be seen in the right light, my son's are rimmed with gold, and mine are bright like a polished emerald. And who among us has never cried at the intense beauty of a song? Who has never laid aside a book feeling full and satisfied, almost as if it was a feast? Beauty nourishes us! It moves us along and sustains us. And in the darkest times, or in years of existential crisis, beauty gives us purpose.

So, I think it's time that I share this treasure trove I've gathered. In fact, the tag for each of these posts will be: Gather the Good. It's the name of a We Banjo 3 album and I fell in love with the name on contact. And if you somehow still don't know who We Banjo 3 is, I suggest you go back and read this post. Then, hop on Spotify or wherever you listen to music, and listen to the Haven album. Or the song 'Happiness'. You can't go wrong. Trust me.

I will also try to do some stories on Instagram and Facebook with brief snippets of what I'm loving and some goodness for your day. And here on the blog I can provide links where you can buy, download, subscribe, listen, or otherwise enjoy it for yourself.

And please, always feel free to share with me any books, movies, songs, or anything else that has been a particular source of beauty or meaning for you. Or a simple pleasure, like brewing a cup of tea, or I don't know, sketching a wildflower. I'm always on the hunt for more good things to gather.

Kindness Carries the Light

The last few days have been utterly exhausting but God has been in each moment, boldly revealing himself. In family. In friends. In quiet moments. And sometimes in banjos.

Yes, banjos. Let me explain.

Three years ago my childhood best friend, Holly, happened to be watching a morning news program when an Irish band came on to play a couple songs and promote their summer tour. Knowing me and my love for anything Irish, she texted me the name of the band and told me to look them up.

I. Fell. In. Love.

David Howley, Martin Howley, Enda Scahill, and Fergal Scahill

The band is We Banjo 3 and their genre is 'celtgrass' which is

an amazing marriage of American bluegrass with traditional Irish folk music. Two sets of brothers, Martin and David Howley, and Enda and Fergal Scahill, make up this incredible quartet of unparalleled talent and awesomeness.

Last year, in 2018, Holly and I went to see them in concert at the GAR Hall in Peninsula. The GAR Hall was constructed during the Civil War, and as it houses many artifacts from the era, it retains all of its historic charm. It's an intimate little hall that was packed with people--most of whom had seen the band before. Holly and I had no idea what we were in for. A Scottish band, Talisk, opened for them and blew the lid off the old hall. Then We Banjo 3 absolutely blew us away with their talent, passion, storytelling, and kindness. We left that night (in a snow storm) committed to We Banjo 3 for life.

At that concert, they played a couple new songs from the album they went on to release in the summer of 2018. Songs about depression and hope and family and love. Songs that stuck with me for a long time. And when that album dropped, I played it on a loop for weeks. My kids know the words to every song, and I'm good with that. The messages on the Haven album are everything I need to hear and want my kids to internalize. I don't think I've ever heard an album as honest and hopeful as this one. It's a curious blend in this modern age of cynicism and, well, ugly. But it's what we so desperately need. Honest words that life isn't always easy and mental health is a messy business sometimes, yet tempered with the insistent message of hope and light. I've talked before about my obsession with light. At least four songs on Haven talk about light. No wonder this is my jam.

Mental health is a hard thing to talk about. At the risk of this backfiring on me....I've wrestled with depression off and on for over a decade. Probably closer to two decades, though it it wasn't diagnosed until 2008. After my son was born in 2012, I experienced post partum depression which made me afraid that someone was going to take him away from me if I made a mistake, and that anyone but me would be better at raising him. It took about six or eight weeks for that to pass. When my daughter was born in 2016, PPD actually presented as anxiety. I'd never experienced anxiety like that before. I couldn't explain how I felt to anyone. I just knew I wasn't me, and I wasn't right. And talking about it felt impossibly hard at times. This took six to eight months before I got my feet under me again. Over the years, I've endured some dark days and nights that keep me ever yearning for the light. 

The hard things are the things we need to talk about. Or write music about. Or write novels about. My Sayen Falls Series features many characters wrestling with mental health issues for a wide variety of reasons. Most notably are my main characters; Blythe Elwood who is prone to depression and Gracen Hall who battles anxiety daily. As the story progresses into future books, I'll explore other facets of mental health like trauma and PTSD. But there will always be a thread of light and hope to follow. I want to be brave enough to write about the hard things--to write boldly about hard things as Hemingway instructed--and also brave enough to claw for the light.

The first time I listened to the Haven album in its entirety, I was almost in shock. My characters could've written these songs. 'War of Love' is Jesse Beckwith in a three-minute-and-twenty-nine-second song. I mean, it's eerie. And 'Pack It Up' could easily be played by Silas Elwood at an open-mic at The Yellow Bowl. The title song 'Haven' is so fitting for Blythe and for Gracen that I'm starting to wonder if the banjo boys hacked my laptop.

"Lay down your weapons, lay down with me. We will stare at the stars and think what life could be. Island of memories we'll leave them where they lie. Can we make the choice for love and joy? The moon lights a path we can travel down. River runs wild with what has gone before. Cast aside for new and more and more and more and more and more and more. Let me be your haven. Let me be your light. Sail with me across the ocean deep. And find a place for love and joy."

I was supposed to attend the We Banjo 3 concert in Peninsula this past weekend. Then we had a medical emergency. Everything planned was immediately canceled and I shifted all my attention to my husband.

Holly still went to the concert. She sent me some pictures, and told me that Martin compared Peninsula to Narnia or Hogwarts because no one has ever heard of it and you can't find it unless you know about it. I mean, he's not wrong. In fact, I think he's spot-on. 

Then, after the show she sought out David. She told him how our plans were derailed and my husband was in the hospital. The next thing I knew I was on the phone with him. It wasn't riveting conversation on my end because I was rather astonished. (I gave the play by play to my husband and he said it sounded like when he'd call girls in 7th grade. Again, he's not wrong. Pretty spot-on). 

And yet that brief conversation carried the light. Kindness always carries the light, and often small actions can carry more than we'd ever expect. This perhaps is the underlying message in Haven, and it is without a doubt an underlying message of Sayen Falls.

My family has been blessed with so many acts of kindness over the last few days. Our family and friends have been invaluable. I told my mom that I can tell so many people are praying because I can practically see it dripping down the walls. We are saturated in love right now. Even a wee bit of banjo love. And we're all back home under one roof! As I write this, everyone is sleeping soundly except me. As usual and as it should be. I'm heading off to dreamland soon myself. I will likely dream of kindness because I'm just so in awe of the Lord's mercies and the actions of kind souls. 

If We Banjo 3 plays a show anywhere even remotely near you--go. Even if you think celtgrass is not your thing. It will become your thing. It will be fun and entertaining, and it will be hopeful. And if you get to talk to the boys, they will be friendly and kind. And if you can manage to not be tongue-tied like me, they'll even listen to your stories.

And if you can't get to a show, download the album, grab a couple friends, and share your stories. Build community, find your tribe, make connections. As the boys in the band say, "we all need more kindness in this world....we all need more banjos in this world." And trust me, when something comes up and knocks your feet out from under you, having a real community to catch your fall is priceless.

Fantastic Light

I sorta have a love affair with light. It's been a lifelong thing. Perhaps it started because I was afraid of the dark and nightlights were such faithful little electric companions. Maybe it's because I went to the planetarium once as a kid and fell in love with starlight. Or it might be because I know what it is to stumble about in proverbial darkness and need a great light to give warmth, direction, and well, light. 

In him was life, and the life was the light of men. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.
-- John 1:4‭-‬5 ESV

In the summer of 2016 I was struggling with post-partum depression, grieving the passing of my beloved grandmother (I lost 3 grandparents in 7 months time), trying to put down roots in a still new area, and working through long days and longer nights as a worn out mother of two. It was a dark time. I won't lie about that and I'll try to not exaggerate. A friend who met with me each week for bible study and encouragement described me as "clawing for the light." It was a very apt description. I knew I desperately needed the Light. I asked God to show me the light.

That summer there were hundreds and hundreds, maybe a thousand, fireflies who came out to dance in our yard each night. I'd never seen so many in my life. I couldn't walk without bumping into them. And oh, the hours I spent that summer walking in our yard. It was a large grassy yard with several tall, tall trees for shade. My husband would take our 4 year old son out to the family farm to pal around as he worked, and I would carry our six month old baby girl in my arms as I walked around the yard. I sang hymns and praise songs and trendy Christian tunes from the radio, whatever stirred in my heart and fell out of my mouth. And I prayed. And cried. Not always sad tears. Just sometimes because of exhaustion and hard mental-emotional-spiritual work often warrants crying. God led me through deep trust issues, with Him and humanity. He led me closer to His own heart. 

And every night the fireflies flickered in the trees and the grass and the fields all around. Lights blinking one to another. I'm here. I'm here. You're not alone. See my light? 

"You are the light of the world. A city set on a hill cannot be hidden.  Nor do people light a lamp and put it under a basket, but on a stand, and it gives light to all in the house.  In the same way, let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father who is in heaven.
--Matthew 5:14‭-‬16 ESV

One night it hit me. The Kindom of Heaven is like fireflies in a dark world. I light up so you can know you're not alone. You light up so I can know I'm not alone. We communicate in the light. We live and move and have our being in the Light. 

How far that little candle throws his beams! So shines a good deed in a naughty world. 
--William Shakespeare, Merchant of Venice

It's now January of 2019, almost three years later. I haven't seen a firefly in months. But the Light keeps coming to me. I just have to look. It's been a weird, warm, gray, dreary winter in Ohio (and elsewhere). Much too bleak, not enough sun. On Christmas there was sunshine. On my daughter's birthday just two weeks and two days later there was sunshine. Today it was warm and sunny and we had a trip to the park. My son, now six, picked me a sunny yellow dandelion. In January. 

I saw Mary Poppins Returns again tonight. I get a little bingey with beautiful things. I always have. It's an affliction but one I don't mind. And I've concluded that my favorite part is when Jack and the Lamplighters teach the new generation of Banks children to "trip a little light fantastic."

'Trip a Little Light Fantastic' is the big show-stopping number, similar to 'Chim-Chim-Cheree' in the original movie. Again, trying to avoid spoilers, I will reveal this much (since I think it's revealed in the trailers and elsewhere) Lin-Manuel Miranda leads the London Lamplighters in an exuberant song and dance about turning on the light. It's fun, it's toe-tapping, it's got a great dance break, and it's a catchy tune. 

And it's about light. It exhorts us to not give up when we're in a fog of confusion, when we're weary inside and out, when we just want to hide or lay down and be done. Don't quit. Look for the light. Shine for others to see.  

It's everything I've come to hold dear as God has been teaching me about light my entire life. From nightlights to starlight to fireflies to lamplight....He's used it all to point to Himself. The Light of the World. 

The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light; those who dwelt in a land of deep darkness, on them has light shone. -- Isaiah 9:2 ESV

I've found that if I just pay attention I can find God in the most unlikely places. He seems to favor that trick. After all, we've just celebrated the time He turned up in a manger as a newborn. And wherever I find Him, there's the light. Fantastic light.