The Courage behind “Congratulations”

Sometimes even good things hurt.

My husband always reminds me “perception is reality.”  This is something I’ve thought about a lot.  It helps me remember the world doesn’t revolve around me. And it encourages me to not assume I understand how other people feel, or why they do and say the things they do.  But it also helps me find peace in my anxiety, as I over-analyze and try to apply my own experiences to someone else’s.  In the end, our experiences are our own, only our own- even when shared.  They are perceived through our own lens- our own perspective.  And they become our truth. 

I don’t know if you’re aware- but we’re in standing in the middle of a very large, very pregnant, “Baby Wave”. 

A “Baby Wave” is what many people call a period of time when it seems like everyone and their mother, (forgive me…I couldn’t resist) is pregnant and/or having babies.  It’s remarkable really. And it’s beautiful.  This phenomenon (I believe it’s phenomenal anyway) has the potential to create an instant bond between women, as they symptom-swap and exchange battle stories of past pregnancies.  Then one by one, they give birth to their beautiful little ones, and the cycle resets.  Then all is calm, until the next wave.

“Don’t drink the water!” is a joke commonly heard during these wave-times, exchanged between individuals who are not looking to join the preggo-club for a variety of reasons.  It’s a happy time full of wonder, swollen bellies, and hope. 

But there are some women- who aren’t making jokes.  Who quietly smile on the sidelines through the “Oh my gosh! When are you due?!” conversations.  The women who would give anything to drink the water, no matter how bitter the taste.

It’s uncomfortable to acknowledge that there can be pain even in the most beautiful times.  Especially when that pain is selfish, and that pain is our own.

So, in the interest of being transparent, here is my perception/reality: 

(hold on folks- it’s going to be a long, bumpy ride!  Go ahead and take your phone with you if you need to take a potty break. I won’t judge.)

I was naïve, 21 years old, and about to begin completing my three required internships to become an elementary school teacher. (spoiler alert: I never actually ended up teaching elementary school.) My husband and I didn’t have a real “plan”- but we’d been married two years and deeply desired to start a family.  Summer seemed ideal timing for a having a baby within my teaching schedule.  And so our journey began!

“Aunt Flo” was late that very first month- and I took a test. It was negative.  I cried.  A lot.

The next day I came home to flowers brightening our, tiny, dingy (seriously disgusting… but cheap) apartment; and my husband telling me he would love me no matter what.  My period still hadn’t arrived, and he convinced me to take another test. I did so grudgingly- and left it on the bathroom counter to process while I laid on the couch in despair.  (I wish I could say I became less dramatic with age, but it would taste like a lie.)

The next thing I knew- my husband was whooping and hollering for joy as he came bounding out of the bathroom to come shower me in kisses.  It was positive! We were having a baby!  For the next nine months, I felt like I was glowing.  I felt set-apart. I have never known as much joy as I did in then.  There were a lot of tears, but far more smiles, and I walked on clouds.  I was so proud- and so excited.

Pregnant with our first baby!

Four days past our due-date in June, we delivered our oldest- (a boy!) via Cesarean Section at 9lbs 3oz.  I hadn’t progressed, 0cm dilated 0% effaced- without a single “real” contraction.  He was “sunny side up” (meaning his face was out toward the front of my belly instead of back toward my spine) and his head was lodged in my pelvis making progression unattainable. 

I didn’t handle the C-section well.  I was still only first-learning how to cope with the anxiety/depression cocktail that is my mental health, and had an anxiety attack on the operating table.  Technically, the surgery still went flawlessly, but emotionally, it sent me spiraling into a depressive state.  Because of my sensitivities, I struggled with the juxtaposition of pain and numbness that followed, and to hold my baby.  At times everything was dark, and I felt angry.  I was so tired.  I was in so much pain. And I just wanted it to end. 

Eventually I began to heal, and feel like my old self- but I was terrified to experience that feeling again. 

The pain faded, and my desire for a baby outweighed my fears.  When I was 23 (working as a Middle School Science teacher) my husband and I found ourselves planning for another baby!  We were aiming for May to maximize the amount of time I would be able to spend with the baby.  That first month I found myself in familiar circumstances.  My period was late, the test was negative.  I tried not to worry, because this had happened before, but the next day instead of flowers and a dance for joy like my first pregnancy- I broke into a new box of feminine products.  I wasn’t pregnant.

I braced myself for the storm.  There were tears- but I tried to put my circumstances into perspective. I realized it wasn’t realistic to expect a positive pregnancy test right away.  It was amazing that it happened the first time with my oldest, but I needed to practice patience. I knew better than to assume things would always go 100% according to plan. That particular lesson however was short-lived, as the following month found us reading two pink lines and expecting another June baby! 

Pregnant with baby number two!

My second pregnancy was a little more difficult than the first. I felt cautious.  I was happy- but I was also scared.  Over the last two years I had many friends who experienced miscarriages, birth defects, or other complications.  I felt convinced something was going to go wrong.  As the due-date came closer, I began to feel a little more calm, but still anxious about what was going to happen.  I walked and walked and walked, and two days before his official “due date”- I delivered our second little boy, 7lbs 4 oz, with a flawless VBAC delivery.  (Vaginal birth after cesarean.) 

It seemed my fears were unconfirmed, and I allowed myself to cling tightly to this new little life.

Two years later- I was feeling empowered after my positive VBAC experience. I had been feeling strongly about having another baby, and secretly hoping for a “surprise” pregnancy ever since my youngest self-weaned at 8 months.  I was just SO sure we had another little one ready to join our family, and I couldn’t wait to meet them.  So at the comfortable age of 25, my husband and I decided to aim for an April baby.  We joked that was how we would get another summer baby to compliment my teaching schedule. (Since it took 1 month with our first baby, 2 months with our second baby- it would probably take 3 months with our third baby, and we’d get all three of them in June!)

We played it cool, but after the third month irrational worry started to creep in.  I kept my fears to myself, because I knew with my anxiety I wasn’t being logical.  But as time passed- I started to internally panic, and it became harder to keep to myself.  I asked a few close friends and family members to pray for us, but still no baby.  I felt guilty for mourning each month.  I felt I didn't have a real right to complain after having it "easy" with my first two.  After 6 months we decided to take a break.  My niece had be diagnosed with Morquio (MPS IV-A), and my husband was going to have some genetic testing done before we continued trying to conceive.  We couldn't afford IVF, so I was terrified a positive result would mean postponing having another baby indefinitely.  Thankfully- his tests came back clear- so we resumed our baby-trying.  Everything always seemed to work out just right for us. Except, no baby.  I couldn't wrap my head around it.

I went to the doctor who ran some standard blood work, but assured me I was young, and because we had two successful pregnancies before “the plumbing worked”.  I offered an uncomfortable courtesy-laugh at his joke, but I didn’t feel like it was very funny.  He told me I shouldn’t be concerned.  It had been a year since we started “trying” for baby #3, but because we had taken a short break- I didn’t qualify for additional fertility tests, and he was confident I didn’t need them.  In fact, I was told that pursuing unnecessary tests could actually hurt my chances of conceiving so it was best to just keep trying and waiting.  “Next time I see you, you’ll be pregnant!” he told me.  I smiled hesitantly in my paper gown and waited for the room to clear so I could get dressed.

I was 26 by now.

And then I was 27.

I was struggling.

I watched the baby waves ebb and flow.  I told myself to relax.

Everyone told me to relax.

• “You have two beautiful boys, be grateful for them.”
• “It will happen as soon as you stop trying.”
• “You haven’t been trying that long- just be patient.”
• “It will happen when you least expect it.”
• “I had real infertility, you’re not infertile.”
• “You’re so young, don’t rush it.”
• “It took us X amount of time to get pregnant, everyone is different.”
• “Two is a good number.”
• “So many people have it much harder, they never have a baby at all.”
• “Are you really trying? If you haven’t done XY&Z for ___ amount of time you’re not infertile, you’re just not trying hard enough.”

Truth blurred with doubt and I was miserable.  I began to spiral.  I hated my job.  I pushed my husband away.  I felt like an awful and unworthy mother, like I was neglecting the blessings I had been given by wishing for something more.  There was nothing physically wrong, so it had to all be in my head- which meant it was all my fault.  I became angry with myself, frustrated at the cycle of worry I had both created & become trapped in.  I tried to remind myself that my children needed me.  I told myself I was being selfish.  I pushed myself to wake-up, get dressed, and do the things I was supposed to do.  I all-but invested in stock for home pregnancy tests, as month after month I peed on those stupid plastic sticks.  I'd forgive them quickly though, always convinced I was just testing too early, or that next month would be different.

I went to the baby showers.  I sat on the theoretical shore as a supportive, smiling face, for the passing baby waves- but I quietly hid the feeds of my pregnant Facebook friends.  Especially the ones who “Oh my gosh- we weren’t even trying!” 

It wasn’t their fault.  After all- I’d been there.  Both our previous babies were meticulously planned, but they had come so easily.  It can be surprising (and even scary!) when you get the news.  Surprising, scary, & exciting!  They wanted to share- and that was their right.

But here’s what I realized. 

Here’s where I remember that “perception is reality.”

That same beautiful moment, from a single pregnancy announcement, has been shared, copied, and even tainted.  While the emotion of happiness surrounding that experience is genuine & overwhelming, the ripples through perception are not uniform.  My lens of unfulfilled dreams took my ripple of joy and welcoming for this new life, and laced it with pain.  The news was full of light, but also shadows of bitterness. 

These moments aren’t fair.  But they are real.  They are individual, and they are all valid.

In the beginning of 2016, I decided to quit my teaching job, and work from home as a LuLaRoe consultant.  I wanted something flexible & low-key so I could focus on myself, and my little family.  I joined a gym- and began making time for the things I enjoyed.   I was making peace.  At the time I was preoccupied with the life-changes I was making, and to my surprise- just as everyone suggested of course- I finally got pregnant! A year and a half since our journey’s start to baby #3, but only one month after deciding to take this crazy leap of faith, we were finally expecting! 

My third pregnancy.  My three year old was the photographer- hence the cropped head.

“Expecting” is such an appropriate word for pregnancy.  Hopes and dreams are immediately whirled into action as quickly as those two pink lines appeared on the home pregnancy test.  I had expectations, and these particular expectations had been under construction for a long time.

Unfortunately, the foundation wasn’t quite set.  Our baby girl was diagnosed with Trisomy 18 (also known as Edwards Syndrome) and after 17 long, heart-wrenching weeks of pregnancy filled with tests, fear, and unanswered questions, we lost the heartbeat.  I delivered her tiny unfinished body on my oldest son’s 5^th birthday.

They say when you can talk about something without crying, you’ve healed. 

I’m not quite there yet, but it's happening slowly.  I’d like to write a post someday about everything that miscarriage has taught me, but not today.

That Fall, after a couple of familiar disappointing months, we experienced a “chemical pregnancy”.  The pregnancy test was positive on a Monday, and I began bleeding on Saturday.  I had two  LuLaRoe “pop-up” boutiques that day.  In the morning I prayed it was some kind of harmless spotting.  I pushed through the party, unwilling to believe that I could really be miscarrying again.  But the bleeding didn't stop. I took a pregnancy test on my lunch break, and it was negative, so I knew the pregnancy had not been viable long.  I smiled, and laughed and complimented ladies as they tried on clothes that made them feel beautiful while I was falling apart from the inside out. 

Every loss is significant, but to me, it just felt like one long, painful blur.  This would have been another summer baby.

It’s been almost 3 years since we first started trying for baby number 3.  Many of the ladies I surfed the “baby waves” with during my first two pregnancies have since had another little one.  Many of them had the sweetest most beautiful little girls. It's so strange to feel so happy for someone else while still feeling so sad for yourself.  Sometimes I worry my sadness is blemishing their happiness, but I'd like to think it has the opposite effect.  Seeing those little ones reminds me of hope- and that good things happen.  It stings to watch with empty arms- but my heart still feels full. I scoop up my own little ones and hold them a little tighter.

This week I went to Walmart with my youngest to search for some coordinating clothing for my men-folk because we had family pictures coming up.  I decided to do some light grocery shopping while I was there, and I was in the bread aisle when the modern marvels of technology delivered the news that another one of my friends was pregnant by surprise, one of the friends who had two children the same ages as mine, but also already had a gorgeous little girl since. I kept my composure & continued shopping for about ten minutes before breaking down in front of the Oreos.

The right thing is to say “Congratulations!” when something good happens to someone else. 

But what do you say when your heart aches, and the words feel hollow?  What do you do when their something good is your nothing?

You sob in the middle of Walmart like a crazy person while an old man awkwardly tries to get to the Nilla Wafers behind you.  You take a deep breath and let yourself feel everything for just that moment.  You wipe your tears and realize that there’s an appropriate time and an inappropriate time to share your heart.  You remember the times when good things have happened to you too.  You remember life isn’t fair, and that’s ok.  You choose to make room for happiness right beside the sadness in your heart.  There’s room for both.  You acknowledge that this is their moment, and you will have your own turn in your own way to interpret those ripples and process your own residual experience.  Even if it isn’t when, or how you thought it would or “should” be.

You take courage, and find strength in the face of grief.

You say “Congratulations!”

My sweet boys playing at Grandma's house this weekend. 

Monogrammed Memories- A Christmas Tree Ornament Tutorial by Guest Author Cara

One of my most favorite memories growing up always started at the beginning of the holiday: decorating my step-mom’s house for Christmas. She is the type of woman that used to (and still does) go all out for Christmas. It always started the same way, every Saturday after Thanksgiving-by unpacking her Christmas closet… yes, closet. We were blessed to have a gorgeous home with very tall ceilings, so we always got a tree that was 9 or 10 feet tall. This, obviously, means that decorating said tree was a two, if not three person job. 

Every year, my step-mom would let my dad and I put on the lights while she unpacked the ornaments. And every year, she retold the same stories about who gave her each ornament, and when-sometimes down to the date. In my childhood years, I never understood her appreciation for her hand-made collections. And when it came time to put the ornaments on the tree, I always got the same speech: “Be careful with that one, so and so gave that to me,” with almost everything I picked up.

Now that I’m older, I have my own tree, and I am starting to understand what her mild obsession with these ornaments involve; a little bit of love, for those handmade from family and friends, a special memory, for those purchased on vacation or a trip somewhere special, and even a little place in her heart, from the ornaments given to her by relatives who are no longer with us. 

Before my biological mom passed, she made ornaments for her family and friends, and gave them away each year. In the 20 years since her passing, some of those friends and relatives have given these ornaments back to me. Since my mother died when I was so young, their value to me is increased tenfold-it’s almost like having a part of her with me each Christmas when I go to hang them on my tree.

So last year, I decided that I would carry on my mother’s DIY ornament tradition, and I set out to make a special ornament for everyone on my Christmas list. I, of course, took to Pinterest for some design inspiration, and that landed me here.

I loved the way these ornaments looked when finished, and the cool marbled effect it created. But I wanted to take it up a notch, and make the ornament personal to every family I gave it to. My solution?

Monogramming!

Monogramming is the best way to give a gift that is 100% original-it really tells the receiver that you thought about them specifically when making it. But if you’re blessed with a family large enough to fill a high school gymnasium, giving a monogrammed gift to every single person can get expensive. So rather than making one of these little babies for every person in the family, I gave one to the household, and used their last name for the monogram initial.

So here’s what you’ll need:

• Acrylic Paint
• Clear Ornament
• (you can use round or flat, I went with flat because I wanted the monogram to lie evenly)
• Sticker or Paint Pen (for monogram)

Start by dripping the lightest color paint into the top, leaning the opening of the paint lid against the inside of the ornament so you get as much on the side as possible.

Work your way from lightest to darkest, filling in the gaps around the top of the ornament. When you have covered the lip of it on the inside, cover the opening with paper or cellophane (or your fingers, just be prepared to get paint on them), and start shaking that baby. I turned this one on its side and tapped it on the table to get the paint to move where I wanted it.

This was the end result. You can continue tapping until you get more of a color combination like the original one, but I really loved the way this one looked.

Then, pick the side you like best, and add your monogram.

I highly recommend letting the excess paint that is inside drip out before you put the stopper back into the top of the ornament. I inverted mine into a Kleenex box with some paper towels in the bottom of it to catch the paint.

When it’s dry, carefully stick the metal top back into the ornament, and you have a beautiful gift under $5.00. I have already given some of these to family members we see before Christmas, and the looks on their faces when I told them I made them myself meant the world to me. This project is also easy enough to let the kiddos get involved! My 3 year old had a blast “helping” mommy swirl the paint around.

Now, when they hang this ornament on their tree each year, I know that they will think of me.
And isn’t that what this season is all about?

1,000 thanks to Jessica for letting me share this with you all! If you feel so inclined, feel free to visit me more often over at my blog (www.things-that-glitter.blogspot.com).

I hope you all have a very Merry Christmas and a fantastic New Year!

-Cara

How to have a very Merry Christmas:

Christmas is upon us.

Are your palms sweaty? Did your pulse quicken?  Because I know I'm pretty delirious- and it's NOT because Santa's coming to town.

Gone are the days when sugar plums danced in my head.  The days when I made green and red construction paper "countdown chains" and sang all the annoying extra lyrics to Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer at the top of my lungs until my parents went legally deaf.

Now it's all about number crunching- scheduling- and the looming EXPECTATIONS.

I'm not 100% sold that our parent's generation or their parent's generation had quite the same level of holiday pressure many of us are facing today.  Mom-bloggers and new reporters alike are finding themselves more and more drawn to the topic of minimizing the holiday-buzz, going "back to the basics", and the ever-popular "true meaning" of the holiday spirit.

We talk the talk: facebook rants, head-shaking at Christmas store displays in October, and telling our friends that we don't do a lot of presents for Christmas... but how many of us are actually walking the walk?

Before you hang your head in guilt- let me give you a little pat on the back.  You're probably doing the best you can.  It's not easy in the world of Mommy-wars/Pinterest show-offs/and facebook brags.  There's a lot of amazingly awesome spectacular ideas out there.  "New" family traditions (*cough* elf on the shelf *cough*) around every corner.  There's no way you can do it all.  You just...can't.

It becomes really easy really quick to start to absolutely hate "the most wonderful time of the year".

So before you bah-humbug it all and thrown in the as-seen-on-Pinterest-personalized-cross-stitched-holiday-themed- towel...

Here are my TOP TEN WAYS TO *let yourself* ENJOY THE HOLIDAYS.

{img credit: here}

1.) Pick and Choose.

When my husband and I got married (a late November wedding), Christmas was almost immediate.  And naturally, we found ourselves in conversation about our various family traditions and Christmas memories from over the years.  The next big question: what are OUR family traditions going to be?

Whether you're married or not- this is a question everyone is eventually faced with.  What parts of Christmas do I want to make a priority each year?  Whatever you decide needs to be a personal decision, and you should stick with it! (...that's the tough part about traditions- you've got to keep going!) But don't stress over the finality of it all- you can always introduce a *new* Christmas tradition later. ;)

{img credit: here }

2.) Reflect.
Most children look forward to the holidays. (I mean- what ISN'T exciting about a day of goodies, laughter, and overall happiness?)  For some reason- over time that magic may seem to flicker and fade.  I have been witness to the magic of having children- and I have been amazed at the precious re-kindling I have felt as I experience the joy of the holidays through the eyes of a little one.

The feeling is almost intoxicating- and I'm sure many parents can relate when I say I wanted to make Christmas for my sons the BEST CHRISTMAS EVER! But before I found myself neck-deep in toy-debt I took a minute to remember my own favorite Christmas memories.  Making Christmas goodies with my family, pulling out ornaments on our advent calendar, making Christmas crafts... these were the things I remembered.  And those are the things I need to make a priority now.

3.) Ditch the criticism.

I don't know anyone who wants to be considered materialistic.  I also don't know anyone who can't understand why someone may be excited about getting a gift.  (and if they claim so- they are lying.)  While getting *stuff* isn't a healthy main-focus for anyone- I want to take a step back and remind you of this little old book.

[Learn more about Love Languages here.]

Receiving and giving gifts is a legitimate love language people.  Not any more or less valid than the others.  Just like it wouldn't be healthy to focus on purely physical touch or only on words of affirmation- I can understand how only caring about gifts could be cause for concern.  But I think we can also agree that once or twice a year (I love birthdays!) is not completely unreasonable for some people to be excited about receiving gifts!  It feels good to know someone was thinking about you- so stop feeling guilty for counting those presents under the tree.  You get a free-pass.  Just don't shove your 11 presents in the face of cousin Tilda's 4.


4.) Know when to say NO.

Many of us can relate to the concept of a hectic holiday schedule. It's like my calendar throws-up between the months of October and January.  Holiday parties, family get-togethers, catching up with friends... it doesn't take much for some of us to get a little overwhelmed.  The holidays tend to have a sense of nostalgia and sentiment unique from the rest of the year.  And that can remind us of what who is most important.  Unfortunately, that also puts a fire under our butts to hurry and spend as much time as humanly possible with those people.

Something to remind yourself of this Christmas- those people aren't going to be any less important in January...February... or June.  There may be people traveling into town exclusively for the holidays- make them a priority and save visiting with your local friends and family for the rest of the year.  If you don't take the time to relax and enjoy the holidays- you could literally make yourself sick- and then you won't have any choice but to sit at home and relax (miserably) because no one is going to want to hang-out with your snot-nosed face.  (Sorry- that was mean...)

5.)  Remember those who aren't with us- and those they left behind.
It's heartbreaking to think that during this season of joy and wonder- suicide rates are actually on the rise.  I can't think of anything worse in this life than losing a loved-one and seeing everyone around you happy and celebrating with their loved ones can be a lot like rubbing salt in a fresh wound.  Even losses years-decades old can be brought fresh to the surface with the memories embedded deeply in this magical season.

When you're in pain- it can be easy to let that pain overtake you- and any joy and laughter can seem unattainable.  It's important to let yourself feel the peace that can come with Christmas and use that peace to uplift yourself and those around you.

Find ways to keep your loved ones alive in our hearts and memories.  My father in law passed-away just before I met my husband and while I never met him- I can definitely feel his spirit in the way my husband and his family talk about him and celebrate his memory.  My father in law's birthday is December 4th so my husband and I have made it a tradition to put our tree up on that day.  It's something simple- but it's also something special and meaningful that keeps him alive in our hearts and home.

{Img Credit: here }

Also, remember that not all loss is through death.  Individuals who have faced divorce, separation, military deployment, addictions and other struggles can also feel depressed and alone this time of year.  Make it a point to recognize and remember these people.  Invite them to low-key but meaningful events and include them in activities like caroling or cookie drop-offs.  These little things can sometimes mean the world to someone who feels like the world is against them.

6.) Indulge
I can't tell you how many people tell me every year how much weight they expect to gain over the holidays- and how they are dreading the consequences.  To them, I say- stop.  Just stop.  Of course, you shouldn't stuff yourself silly every day for two months.... but two or three big Christmas meals won't make you gain 50 pounds.

Plan ahead and be responsible.  If there are only two of you in your house- you probably don't need a gallon of eggnog in your fridge at all times.  Be reasonable and have things in moderation- but when you have them ENJOY THEM.  Don't spend the entire feast complaining and dreading- let yourself taste every pepperminty chocolate-dipped piece of heaven you can get your hands on... because you deserve it!

Just stop when you're full.

7.) Minimize expenses

There are about a thousand different budgeting ideas on the web- but for some reason, Christmas always seems exempt from reason when it comes to your bank account and your heartstrings suddenly have full control over your wallet.

Look up some Christmas-budgeting ideas via sites like Pinterest and come up with a plan that works for you so those holiday bills don't sneak up on you unexpectedly.  Few things can cause stress like money troubles- don't invite them to your home this Christmas by getting carried-away with gifts, parties, decorations, and dinners.  Keep it simple and classy.  Minimalism is in style! ;)

8.) Slow down and get enough sleep

Hustle and Bustle are synonymous with the holiday season.  I admit my husband and I actually enjoy going to the mall during the Christmas season just to let ourselves get caught up in the rush for a little while.  There's something exciting about it.  Although... we try to have our shopping 100% done by that point so we can just enjoy the atmosphere without actually rushing around ourselves.

It can be fun to get caught-up in the excitement... but not when you don't have any other option and you're pressed for time in finding that "perfect" gift for a steal of a price.  Along with knowing when to say no- you need to make it a point to slow down and take things easy.  Running on high for days on end with minimal sleep is not a recommended means of being your happiest most enjoyable self.  (Can I get an "Amen!" moms?)

Instead- budget your time with a full-nights worth of rest.  There will be a few nights where you may stay up late to look at Christmas lights or visit at a work party- but don't make them a daily habit or you'll wear yourself thin and end up falling asleep in the recliner in the living room while everyone else is gleefully tearing wrapping paper to shreds.


9.) Connect and Pray

For many of us- there really is a truer-deeper meaning to Christmas- and without recognizing it we wouldn't be able to honestly enjoy it in our heart of hearts.  It's important to recognize our spiritual well-being during this beautifully touching time of year.

Christmas is about love, joy, and peace.  You should seek out people and things that accentuate those feelings and avoid those that don't.  There's no need to flaunt your higher-purpose reason for the season- it should be a sacred, personal experience.  However, while you don't want to come off holier-than-thou, you also shouldn't be afraid to share your spiritual experiences with friends and family.  Invite neighbors to service projects, sing Christmas carols at a nursing home, donate an evening of your time or some cans to a homeless shelter or soup kitchen.  Joy in good deeds is a universal experience regardless of religion or spiritual beliefs.

Don't be afraid to offend- and even more importantly... don't be offended.  

{img credit: here}

10.)  Don't expect miracles.

I remember one year being incredibly disappointed in my Christmas presents.  I was a teenager after all- so I'm not sure anything short of a million dollars would have impressed me- but it was still a bummer feeling.

We spend a month working ourselves up for one day each year.  With all the hype- there's bound to be some let-down.  Try to prep yourself beforehand.  Lower your expectations and allow yourself to be surprised and happy with the little things.

Let yourself be amazed and remember the magic.

Have a very Merry Christmas!

My Painful Purpose

There was a time when I wished that I just didn’t care. I wished that I could put on a façade and smile my inner emotional instincts away. I wished that I could be decisively stoic and effortlessly composed. I wished so hard that I could look the other way and move on with my life. I wished I could be mean. I wished that I could manipulate my way in and out of situations,--with confidence and ease. I wished so hard. I hated how weak I was. I hated how affected I could be. I hated being an open-book. I hated that I so easily invested in people and ideas.

Even after years of living in a place with the power to shred a girl’s heart and hope to pieces, my stupid weak heart found a way to put itself in another dangerous situation. To be let down. To be ignored. To be forgotten. To be blindsided and left in a state of sheer pain. I wanted so badly to kick the lingering sting of hurt in the face and give it the cold shoulder. I wished to pound hard against my chest as strong as humanly possible to harden my heart. I didn’t understand why. Why wasn’t my heart hardening? I needed not to care… or I’d die of a broken heart and a trampled spirit. I felt utterly powerless in the face of adversity.

We belong to a world that pushes and pulls us in every way imaginable. We find ourselves in desperate situations with many questions: Why did I lose my baby? Why did my marriage fail? Why did I have to lose my job? Why was I raped? Why do I have this disability? Why wasn’t my baby born normal and healthy? Why did I have to get sick? Why should I have to feel this pain? Why me? This is so unfair.

Many of us, when faced with a negative life changing experience like this, find a little seed of darkness and bitterness growing in our hearts. A seed that threatens the very core of our souls. We shut off the world. We avoid social situations. We try to dispose of the memories and the ache as swiftly possible, to limit the suffering and collateral damage. Our objective is to preserve our hearts. We build an ever-growing fort around our core, to keep all the bad out.

A very special someone gave a short book that has helped me to see suffering in a different light. It is called Mee Speaks, by Mary Ellen Edmunds. It contains empowering short talks that could leave the sturdiest and thickest fort walls trembling. In her talk, Finding Purpose in Our Pain, Mary Ellen challenges us:

“I want you to think of an experience that was extremely difficult for you—one of the hardest you’ve ever had to face (Maybe you’re ogin through it right now.)

Now I want to ask you a question about your adversity, your suffering: What have you learned from your experiences? Have you learned compassion? Is your heart more tender? Do you judge others less quickly and harshly?”

Even as I quote her words to you, I am filled with a heavenly warmth and comfort. My tears run freely. Not because of sorrow, but because after years of trying to harden my heart to the world, I’ve found a sense of purpose amidst my pain. I am suddenly reminded of every soul crushing circumstance I’ve endured, every humiliating betrayal, and every bitter loss. And instead of hating myself for not “learning” from my mistakes or not “remembering” my pain and forgiving too easily, I’ve found new strength in my weakness. A purpose in my pain. I’ve now come to appreciate my “weakness.”

If we build a fort around our hearts every time the world deals a foul blow, we’re also incarcerating the experience and the potential to learn from it. The potential to love more sensitively. To have compassion for a hopeless mother. A rape victim. A jobless father. An orphaned child. A mother that so badly wants to conceive, but is left hopeless every month. A drug addict who feels worthless to the world. A child that feels abandoned, and wonders why his parents gave him away. A grandmother who feels embarrassed that she can no longer take care of herself. A cancer victim who fears she won’t be around to see her children grow up.

Everywhere we look, there is pain. BUT everywhere we look again, there is hope. We all have the power to turn our pain into purpose. Spencer W. Kimball warns that if we shut out sorrow and anguish from our lives “we might be evicting our greatest friends and benefactors.  Suffering can make saints of people as they learn patience, long-suffering, and self-mastery.” Through our suffering, we can become sweeter. We can be filled with more compassion for our friends, husbands, children, and family.

The way I see it, understanding someone’s predicament can be done in two ways. You either understand them with your mind or you understand them with your heart. Understanding someone with one’s heart, isn’t easy. When I’ve attempted to reach out to someone I could truly relate to because of my own past and tender experience, all of the scary and negative feelings swarmed in. It was uncomfortable. I’ve come to understand that active compassion isn’t attainable without being willing to revisit those raw feelings that once turned your world upside down and inside out. BUT this suffering we feel in the process is so special and different. As Mary Ellen describes it, “it is the most exquisite and painful.”

How exactly can we find purpose in our pain? How can we actively use the suffering we’ve undergone for a greater purpose? Here are some simple things you can do.

Love just one person.

You can’t solve all of the problems of the world, but we can “love on” one person. We can write one short and friendly note to someone who feels hopeless. We can visit one lonely person. We can make a call to someone in need of a rant. We can send a friendly text or a kind email. Just one person.

            Avoid saying things that aren’t really helpful.

Sometimes we tend to try to quickly talk each other out of our suffering. We assure one another “I know exactly how you feel.” With some honesty, patience, and genuine kindness, we might be more effective. Instead of “I know exactly how you feel” we can say “I’m not sure I really understand what you’re going through, but I am so sorry. What can I do to lighten your load?” If all you can offer is company and a listening ear, settle for that.

            Don’t push a quick cure.

Instead of a “Get well soon” card and a “There are better days ahead” reassurance, we should accept and recognize the true pain a friend might be enduring. Mary Ellen suggests comments like “May your deep water and fiery trials not be more than you can handle” or “I hope you’ll let me travel part of this journey with you.” Pain is a serious feeling, so we should treat it with the sensitivity it deserves.

            Avoid competing for a “worst” trial.

Sometimes, in an effort to relate to a friend, we find ourselves trying to top their suffering. Some funny ways as described by Mary Ellen:

“My kidney stone was a much nicer shape than yours!”

“My tonsils were a lot worse than that! Want to see the picture?”

“My root canal went clear through my collar bone!”

“I was in labor for forty days and forty nights!”

Here’s one I’ve encountered: “I had my baby without an epidural! Trust me, you had it easy!” Yikes! 

Learning from our pain isn’t easy. I think our instinct is to build our precious fort and keep our heart intact. If there’s at least one thing I’ve learned from my pain, is an appreciation for others. A sensitivity to their suffering. If we’ve been judged harshly before, then perhaps we may refrain from unfair judgment.

Amidst our suffering, we can find peace. We can find purpose. We can help heal an aching heart. We can make a friend.