Monthly Archives: December 2015

I saw the sunset over the Pacific on Christmas Day, as I reached out for the heart of God in this, one of my “thin places.” In case you’re wondering, His arms caught me, held me, and did not let go.

So, this morning, once the marine layer had burned from the sky- thankfully early, as often happens in December- this thin-blooded Arizona girl, pulled on her running tights, two long sleeved running shirts, running jacket, running hat, and gloves, laced up her shoes, plugged one ear with an iPod earbud (because both ears would be dangerous), and dragged Jug out for a morning run along the coast. I trusted I would find Him waiting for me, visible in ways perceptible and comprehensible to me, and I was not disappointed.

Along Ocean Boulevard, the sky shone cloudlessly azure, and the sea winds pleasantly chilled my face and tingled my nose. Past the Hotel del Coronado, all along the shoreline I listened (with the free ear) as the surf rolled onto the beach. And my heart, I’m sure gleamed. Down we ran past couples, families, other runners, and other dogs, and with every foot strike I could hear His voice calling to me, “Do you feel me? Do you see me? Do you hear me? I AM RIGHT HERE.”

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Christmas Eve found me in the front pew of a charming California stone church with clerestory stained glass windows and an actual nave dominated by  a majestic stained glass depiction of Emmanuel as shepherd, the One for whom we’ve made this pilgrimage at all. The pews behind me were filled with those also seeking Him, and the social halls received live streaming for the church’s parishioners who were unfortunate enough to arrive less than an hour before schedule.  My row was filled not with my biological family but instead one of my chosen families with whom I have shared life for more than 20 years – heartaches and heartbeats, tears and laughter, hopes and desolation, and all surviving multiple continents. This was not my home church, not even my hometown, but this was where I had chosen to be.

I had driven 6 hours almost on a whim. I had come because I felt the need for a thin place. Do you know the concept? The Catholic priest, Fr. Richard Rohr, ascribes the idea of a “thin place,” a place where God is close enough to touch, close enough to feel, to the Celts. “The edge is a holy place, or as the Celts called it, ‘a thin place’ and you have to be taught how to live there.” (Richard Rohr, Life on the Edge: Understanding the Prophetic Position, 2011.) But there is some debate about whether the concept predates the Celts; I’m not about to argue. My only care is that I needed my “thin place.” I needed to touch God. Continue reading →

In the South we have levels of “tacky.” I can’t speak for other parts of the country; I’m just sharing my personal knowledge. Take it for what it’s worth. The lowest and, therefore, semi-acceptable level, allowing for discreet display is “fun.”

No where else in the country is the word “fun” nuanced in such a way, but if you have ever attended any gift-giving occasion in the land of true Southerners, you, my friend, know exactly that of which I speak.  Gift opened, and you watch as the receivers eyes glazed slightly, lips pursed a tad, and after the slightest of pauses exclaimed in the sugary sweetest of voices, “Oh, how FUN!”

The second level of “tacky,” is just that – “tacky.” Acceptability at this level and appropriateness of display of “tacky” vary widely unless, of course, you belong to the DAR, Junior League, or Daughters of the Confederacy. I’m pretty sure it’s in the by-laws of these organizations that displays of tacky are barred for all members, and are, in fact, cause for immediate dismissal. Continue reading →

I wasn’t going to decorate for Christmas at all this year – no tree, no lights, no huge stocking on the front door. I was boycotting the holiday, and this from a girl who loves her Christmas – tacky bows and all. Frankly, I feel like I’ve been on a treadmill that runs the full length of I-10 from Phoenix to Tucson, my little Volkswagen sucked under the belly of the machine then spit back on top only to repeat less than a week later. I was bone-weary tired, and, really, what was the point of dragging all of those boxes of ornaments and such out anyway? I wouldn’t be in my house any single stretch of time long enough to enjoy them fully. If you’re thinking of any version of Dickens’ Christmas Carol, even the one with Mickey Mouse, feel free to visualize because that was exactly how I was feeling.

Then today, as I sat in my completely non-festive living room, staring at my options for viewing choices on Netflix and Hulu, the holiday movies started popping up. (Has anyone noticed that all the contemporary holiday movies are taking on a decidedly romantic vibe? Please explain that to me. Did someone hire my nemesis, N. Sparks, to write Christmas movies???) Suddenly my front window devoid of its seasonal Charlie Brown tree seemed incredibly sad to me, and I just couldn’t stand another moment of the thought of canceling my own Christmas. Continue reading →

A few weeks ago, a lovely little envelope arrived in snail mail that was actually real mail. I don’t know about you, but my heart just thrills anytime I receive actual, personal mail. (There would be a few qualifiers, but I won’t go into that.). When I open the mailbox and find a gem of a letter or card snuggled in among the catalogs, credit card solicitations, and coupons, I do my own little version of a touchdown victory dance standing right there beside the bank of mailboxes. (It’s okay; laugh if you must.)

I waited to open the little envelope until I had reached the kitchen counter and dispensed with the rest of the mail (trash compactor). Then, of course, because I’m Southern, I carefully cut a horizontal line straight across the top of the top of the envelope with my Sterling silver, monogrammed letter-opener. (No, not really. I tore into it with my veritably non-existent fingernails. I believe I own a letter-opener, possibly two, not silver and certainly not monogrammed. I have no idea where I put them.) My fingers liberated the card.  Then, my eyes quickly scanned it, and I smiled. Then, I reread it. Huh, but still smiling. Continue reading →