3 Ways to Be a Christmas Blessing

As we gather to see friends and family this weekend, I wonder how we might be a true blessing.  I've spent too many holidays easily offended, moody, exhausted, irritable, judgmental, and negative.  I've spent too many holidays thinking of myself and my own needs.

Since action flows from belief, I've fashioned 3 tips to help me be a blessing. 

1.  Believe I'm on assignment from God to bless and encourage through words, gifts, and prayer.  Ask God to show me where, who, when, and how to bless. 

2.  Believe the best about everyone.  Assume pure motives.  Imagine the highest good about others instead of judging, criticizing, and complaining.  I forgive and release bitterness when I ask God to help me see the best in others. 

3.  Believe other people have extraordinary things to teach me. I ask God to make me humble, teachable, and amazed by others. 

We believe we have a Christmas mission.  We believe the best.  We believe in the capacity of every soul to teach us.

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Do you have a tip for being a Christmas blessing?

A Little Thing

I'm sitting by a woman, and we start talking about creativity and how God uses our creativity.

She tells me she's been baking. 

She enrolled in a cake decorating class with her family in order to make "occasion cakes" for children and teens who don't have anyone to make a cake for them.  For birthdays or graduations, local shelters and juvenile detention centers alert my friend about any cake needs. 

She'll bake and decorate a cake and then deliver it to a teenage who never once had somebody make a cake for them.  Never once had this teen been celebrated with something so simple as a birthday cake. 

I start to imagine all the recipients of my friend's cakes.  I see the looks on their faces as the beautiful birthday cakes arrive with their names on them.  I start to imagine how--for this one moment--they feel something start to bubble up inside.  Maybe, just maybe, I'm loved.  Maybe, just maybe, somebody sees me and cares. 

It's a little thing: a birthday cake decorated for someone who never had one before. 

Living with flair means using creativity to bless someone who needs it. 

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What can you make for someone who needs a blessing?   

I Wasn't Supposed to Have Even One

All year, I've waited for the raspberries.  Finally, we have a single ripe berry on the bush this morning. 

I complain to my husband about how unproductive the berries have been.  "Look at the neighbor's berries!  They have so many ripe berries! We have one!" 

"We weren't supposed to have any this year," my husband--the gardening expert--reminds me.  "The neighbor's plants are mature, and ours are young.  Next year, we'll have our berries."

I wasn't supposed to have any.  The truth of it resonates deep in my soul.  I expect and demand so much.  I look at all my worries on this Sunday:  my daughter's possible gluten allergy, news of a sick friend in the hospital, my deadlines, my students.  I place them all in the great lap of God.  I'm humbled before that lap; I do not demand or complain. 

His great blessing brought into my life the very things I now worry about.  His great blessing--when I did not deserve even one of these things--children, friends, work or whatever it is--means I cleanse my heart and rejoice in the very things about which I want to complain. 

That one bright berry--when I wasn't supposed to have any--tastes sweeter than you can imagine. 

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Journal:  Am I fretting over a blessing? 

My Whole House Smells Like This

Frying Donuts

Last night, at the weekly game night we host for graduate students, a friend of ours makes homemade donuts.  Give this man some flour, and he can make anything.  Last month, he invented the most amazing pizza crusts, and before that, he offered everyone crêpes that we dusted with powdered sugar and lemon.

While everyone else plays, he works diligently in my kitchen, telling jokes and commenting on the day's news.  I observe, discussing everything from photography to physics.  When the donuts finish frying in oil, he plates them and walks around like a waiter to deliver the treats to folks in the basement, in the living room, or anywhere they happen to be hanging out.

Stack of Crepes

My husband and I wake up to the lingering smell of fried food.  That deep frying permeates even the bedspread, even the pillows.  When the coffee's made, I feel like I'm in a southern grandma's warm kitchen.

The donuts are long-gone, but the kitchen still remembers.  

The donuts were simple pleasure, a blessing from a friend.  All morning, I think about what it means to be a blessing to someone.  I think about what I can offer to nourish another person--physically, emotionally, spiritually.  What simple pleasures might I bring?  May that blessing permeate deeply, leaving a pleasing aroma.   

 
(photo of crepes by David.Monniaux / Frying donuts: Wikimedia Commons)

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Journal:  What can I offer today?

The Real Teal and Strobe Light

I'm not a good traveler.  I have massive anxiety when it comes to travel, I get homesick, and I get all out of sorts with a change of routine.  For years, I've interviewed folks who love to travel in order to find out what I'm missing somehow.  They all say the same thing:  they love the adventure.

My friend wrote recently to encourage me about an upcoming trip. She wrote something like, "I pray God surprises you with little blessings on this trip."  Amazing how that one statement made me think differently.  If I anticipate that God might surprise me with some little blessing, something perfect and unexpected, then yeah, I can see travel as an adventure.

So to prepare for summer travel, I did something wacky (for me) to represent adventure.  I let my daughters pick out nail polish for my toes--The Real Teal and Strobe Light--and we painted our toenails in this outrageously mermaid-ish teal and a top coat of strobe-like sparkles.

Every time I look down at my toes, I'm thinking about surprises and adventure.  I've got Real Teal and Strobe Light leading the way (literally).

My Tantrum in the Parking Lot

Well, let's just say that I threw a little tantrum in the parking lot yesterday.  But in my defense, I'll set the scene:

I'm in the minivan with the girls.  I'd been sick for a few days.  It's a hot, sticky day, and we are circling and circling to find parking so we can go use our coupons for free hot pretzels at the Pretzel Factory.  Everybody is arguing and complaining, especially me.  Not only does a man glare at me and try to claim the spot I was patiently waiting for, but as I finally pull into my rightful spot, I realize I left the coupons at home.  And then I  realize that the girls are already spilling out of the minivan with all my pocket change.  They are generously feeding the meter (they love "feeding" the meter's "mouth").

I'm in a bad mood, and all I want to do is go home, take a shower, and forget this hot, sticky day.  So I literally stomp while dragging the girls down the street.  "I am NOT happy!"  I said aloud (please tell me other mothers out there have acted this way!)  And then, God reminds me to go over my flair principles.   I start saying to myself, "Heather, you can find the flair in this.  You need to apologize to your children and start new." 

It's not working; everything is annoying me:  the man at the cash register, the incessant ringing of the bell on the shop door, the way my girls are hanging on me.  We get our pretzels and fight a crowd of equally moody parents and children back to our car (the whole world seems to have the same pretzel outing idea).  There's a line waiting for my spot in the parking lot.

I buckle my seat belt, ready to get out of there, and I glance at my meter.  Apparently, my children used every last dime and purchased tons of time for that spot.  I look over my shoulder at the other minivans waiting for my parking space.

I see another mother who just wanted to be somewhere else.

And then I imagine the simple moment of happiness she might experience when she realizes that somebody else left her ridiculous amounts of time on the meter.  Maybe it would be just the thing to get her out of a funk.

I think this counts as a flair moment--for that other driver!  Finding extra time on the meter always makes me feel good somehow, like the planets aligned for me, like the universe was tilting in my favor.  It always feels like a special nod of love.

I start to giggle.  Some other person was going to have some happiness, although just a tiny bit of it, in the form of dimes in a meter.  Maybe they'd feel a nod of love from a stranger.  I was suddenly happy and out of my funk just because of the thought of surprising some other woman. 

Living with flair means putting extra money in the meter for the next person.  It might just make you feel better.

7 Dreams for Your Future

Today I had an unusual writing task:  I was to write a blessing of sorts for the doctoral and master's students that were leaving our Christian graduate student community to launch their careers.  I imagined what I would tell my own children as they started careers.  I imagined all the things I would want for them.  Mostly, though, I remembered what seven dreams God shaped in my own heart that sustained me through graduate school, marriage, parenting, teaching, writing, and just. . . living.  Here's what came to mind (and what I will speak to them tonight). 

1. May you be a blessing to all those you encounter, living a life of love and service with the strength God provides.  Colossians 1:28 tells us that we labor with Christ’s energy.  May that energy enable you to do extraordinary work in the lives of people and in your daily tasks.  May you advance knowledge in your field in ways that build, help, and bring healing in various broad forms.

2.  May you depend on the unfailing love of God, described in Psalm 90, that gives you joy and gladness for all the days of your life. 

3.  May you be filled with wonder in your career as you discover the treasures of Christ as mentioned in Colossians 2 where we read that the mystery of God is Christ “in whom are hidden all the treasures of wisdom and knowledge.”  May you find the wonder of God in each endeavor whether science, literature, social work, law, business, engineering, social sciences, education, architecture, medicine, or the arts.  May that wonder sustain you through difficult days.

4.  May you live a life of enormous faith—trusting God for immeasurably more than you could ask or imagine as noted in Ephesians 3:20.  May you have no fear as you move into the adventure God has for you, but only a joyful expectation of God's power, provision, and purpose for your life. 

5.  May you be an agent of peace, love, and the presence of the Living God in your workplace and in your city. May you remember 2 Corinthians 5—that God loves and cares for others through you. 

6.  May you build authentic community wherever you go—loving deeply as noted in 1 Thessalonians 2:8—being delighted to share your life with others because they are so dear to you. 

7.  May you remember Psalm 16 and the truth that God sets the boundaries of your life—they are good and right.  Also, the psalmist tells us that when you trust in the Lord, you will not be shaken. 

With these 7 promises in scripture, I'm confident that those new professionals will live rich, satisfying lives.  It's my prayer for them and for myself, and, in the words of this blog, they represent 7 dreams for a future of flair.  

The Blessing We Need

A girl with a stuffed unicorn stood by the restrooms at church this morning. I've been seeing unicorns everywhere, and each time, I have a little flair moment. Here's why.

I learned recently that a gathering of unicorns is called a blessing. I just love that. Animal groups have some strange names. Alligators are a congregation; barracudas are batteries (did you know that?); sea birds are called wrecks; bullfinches are a bellowing; zebras are a crossing; rhinos are a crash, and owls are a parliament.

But a group of unicorns is a blessing.

The gathering of beautiful creatures, more divine than earthly, isn't just the stuff of lore and legend. As I left the bathroom, I walked into the worship gathering of our church. It suddenly occurred to me that I was in the presence of the divine, the holy--in the people.  

It suddenly stuck me how much I loved the people.  I knew all those people, and all those people knew me.  I could probably raise my hand and ask anybody for anything and the answer would be, "no problem."   

One man had broken his ankle and, on crutches, rose to the applause of the rest of us as we cheered in hope of his full recovery.

 And those people--those creatures more divine than earthly--were my blessing.  They were my group and my joy both.  

People go crazy in isolation. People die in isolation; they can lose their vitality and their strength. But in groups, they thrive, they enhance one another, and they accomplish more together than they could alone.   They bring forth the glory of God.  

In the Scriptures, Satan drives people to solitary places. In fact, his best work is accomplished when we are alone.  For example, Jesus encounters a demon-possessed man who “drives the man into solitary places” (Luke 8: 29). And we learn in the book of Peter that the enemy of our souls "prowls around like a roaring lion waiting to devour" (1 Peter 5:8).   He must search for the loner.  When I watch nature shows, I'm always struck by the skill of the lion. He preys on the lone gazelle, the one that gets away from his group.  The isolated, the ones separate from their group, are the ones in the most danger. 

If only we could see that left-out person as part of ourselves.   If only we could boldly move forward, extend a hand, and invite a stranger into our blessing.  Our story has many more characters to include.   

If only we could see the divine calling to participate in each others' lives. 

We are interdependent at our best, much like tiny streams that, when we link up, become mighty rivers that nourish entire landscapes.

I need to join my blessing. Whatever it takes, I need to. Living with flair means seeing my community as more divine than earthly and part of my own self. Within my blessing, I gather in the stray gazelles when I'm strong. And when I'm weak, I look to the others to circle around me and bring me to safety.