Aj Schwanz

Holiday priorities certainly change over time.

As a small tyke holidays consisted of brightly colored classrooms, projects with glue and glitter that were supposed to be “pretty gifts” to others who made “oh my how … nice” faces, dressing up in new tights and a frilly dress for the church/school/piano recital, being plied with sugar and excitement and gifts and new events — all while being told to calm down.

As a high schooler the holidays were a time to start learning how to buy presents that weren’t made out of glue and glitter and complaining about the traditions you formerly loved OR complaining that the parents are tired of putting on the traditions you find utterly necessary.

As a college student the holidays were spent detwitching from cramming for finals, eating real food for the first time in forever, sleeping while the family’s awake and being awake while the family’s asleep, and running to the store on the 24th of December because apparently blessing the family with one’s presence isn’t a good enough gift.

As a single person the holidays were for trying to figure out how to live with others while you’re used to living by yourself and for overspending in an attempt to compensate for those years of glue and glitter or nothing.

As a young married person the holidays are a time of negotiation:  who to spend time with, where, what will be eaten, what will be worn, how will presents be wrapped, how will the days look, what traditions will carry over, what traditions will be left behind, and how many people are going to be unsatisfied (so says the melancholy personality type ).

Now, as a mother of three tykes, the holidays have a whole new meaning.  It feels like it’s all Up To Me:  to create traditions, to buy gifts, to make meals, to plan events, to do crafts, to sing songs, to visit all the family members:  to make Everyone Happy and Content with the Magic of the Season.

And it’s so.not.possible.

Now, this is a pressure I totally placed on myself.  It’s an attempt to fill a role I cannot, nor should not, nor have been asked, to fill.  At the root it’s about trying to measure up, mask insecurity.  And it’s about taking the focus off of Christ and onto the family, or more pointedly, myself.

And I don’t want to celebrate myself.  I do that on a daily basis by making choices that please or comfort me.

Advent Conspiracy has laid out four thoughts for helping bring the focus back to Christ, the meaning of His birth and life and death and life above and beyond, and to the body of Christ.

• Worship Fully
• Spend Less
• Give More
• Love All

And so this holiday season, for this month of December, I hope to use these phrases to refocus my attention, to orient myself towards my Savior, the one who came without glue and glitter and self-centered desires.

The other week I had to take my daughter to a hearing appointment.  She didn’t pass her newborn hearing screening, so we were told to schedule another exam, this time with a specialist who works in a hospital in another town.  I scheduled it when my husband happened to be gone.  I had to try to find childcare for the second born.  When I called to verify with insurance, they told me they didn’t cover hearing screenings.  The doctor called the day of the appointment to say that we hadn’t been sent the right paperwork, that she needed to be asleep for the exam, and could I keep her awake and not feed her until the appointment?  You know, for the 30 minute + drive I’d be taking just the two of us?  And what if she really had a hearing problem?  I started to meltdown.

And then I chose to breath.  I called the doctor back who gave me billing numbers to give to insurance people:  they said, “Oh, these tests mean there’s some concern!  They’re covered” (as though I like to schedule inconvenient and expensive tests on my two month old for kicks – geez).  I met my dad for lunch, and even though neither one of us brought maps (because we thought the other one was going to), my husband navigated us to the hospital (while he was in Kansas City getting ready to eat BBQ).  We got an amazing parking space, we were seen forty minutes early, Josephine slept through the whole test, and she passed with flying colors.

I told Jason, “I should’ve known today would go like this:  I read in Luke where Christ was talking about not worrying.”

One of my children is having anger outbursts, and we don’t know what to do other than ride them out.  Another is reading up a storm, and I’m beginning to think that my plans for his schooling are yet in limbo again.  My littlest one is just that:  little.  How does one get the car in to get a potentially hazardous part (according to the letter from the dealer we received two days ago) replaced when one only has one car?  And last night, during a night feed, I discovered the cat to be licking himself excessively — because he had an oozing wound.  So many things to worry about.

And then I attended Bible Study this morning where we heard an update on a sainted lady who is finishing her last trip around the sun.  We’ve known this for some time, but a sense of urgency and seriousness and grief has descended upon all of us.  One of my friends finds herself awake for two hours at a time at night, thinking about our friend, praying for her and her family, struggling with the anger of “why her?  why like this?  why not fix this?” and the presence of the anger at all (can we be angry at God?  what does that mean?  and what will happen?).

The phrase keeps coming to mind:  “God allows in His wisdom what He could easily prevent by His power.”

`Think about the flowers. See how they grow. They do not work or make cloth. I tell you, King Solomon was a great man. But he was not dressed as fine as one of these flowers.

God dresses the grass in the fields so it looks nice. It is in the field one day and the next day it is burned. If God dresses the grass like that, he cares much more that you have clothes to wear. You do not believe in God very much!

`Do not keep asking, “What shall we eat?” and, “What shall we drink?” Do not be troubled about that.

All the people who are not Jews work for these things. Your Father in heaven knows that you need them.

But work for God’s kingdom. Then you will have all these things also.’

`Do not fear, little family. Your Father wants to give the kingdom to you.’

Our sister’s life and situation seems SO much more important, so much more worthy of true worry.  And yet, Christ tells us not to worry – about *anything*.  True, He’s talking in reference to daily needs … but her daily needs are almost gone, so I think it still applies …

Choosing to live out of fear/worry, or out of love/the Kingdom.  I know how I want to live, but my head and my heart don’t seem to match up in how it looks.  Perhaps a clue lies in Christ’s words that follow:

‘Sell what you have and give it to poor people. Make for yourselves money bags that will not wear out. Keep the things you like in heaven. They will not be lost there. People cannot go in and steal them, and insects cannot spoil them.

The place where you keep the things you like is where your heart will be also.’

Lord, cast out our fear!  Transform our fears into love and light!  You are with our sister; You are with us; may we carry that Love and Light, transformed from our fears and worries, to others.

Since last writing, a little more joy has entered my life.

Our darling little girl is soon entering her second month out and about.  She’s growing, changing, sleeping (some), eating (some), and being smothered with love by her brothers.

I never thought I’d be a mother, much less to a daughter.  There’s something different about parenting your own gender:  so much more baggage that can be brought into the situation.  But, as I’m finding out, so much redemption as well.

Not that I’m placing the responsibility on her of bringing about healing or changing in my life, but that she’s a means of experiencing God’s grace in my life.  Or not.  Depends on if I choose to act on the offer:  and sometimes being cranky or impatient seems so much more satisfying … for the moment.

On Sunday someone asked about her name:  “Your boys have such Biblical names, and she doesn’t.”  But oh:  she does.

Josephine Annabelle.  Not the name we thought about, honestly.  I had a list of names at the hospital, Jason had pretty much no ideas but knew he didn’t resonate with mine, so we scrapped most everything, I pleaded a quick prayer because I knew I needed to call my mom and Boo *had* to have a name at that point, and this is what happened.  Really, it’s not the name I would’ve chosen for her:  but it’s *her* name.  How do I know?  Like when I tried on a certain wedding dress some seven years ago and burst into tears because it was the one, I got all weepy when thinking of her name.  And we all know:  when the Spirit moves around Aj, Aj cries.  At least it’s a fairly accurate barometer.  And I can blame God when she’s seventeen and having to fill out all those bubbles on the SAT score card (you know they’ll still have the bubbles).

Josephine:  Biblical – like Joseph in the Bible.  Also after my father and an incredibly influential woman in my life and one of my favorite literary characters.

Annabelle:  My mother, Jason’s mother, Jason, and I all have a variation of “Ann” in our middle names.  My middle name is  a combination of my parents, and now so is their granddaughter.  Anna is a character in the Bible who means a great deal to me:  instead of becoming a bitter widow, she used her position to worship and glorify God, and she got to see Christ.  Jason’s sister and her sister-in-law (a good friend) have had daughters within the past year – EllaMae and Stella – so the “belle” part goes with that.

And her initials are a combination of her brothers – JJ & AA.

As a child I was raised to “pray in Jesus’ name”, but I didn’t know what that meant for quite some time.  “Name” in the Bible is equal with character:  it seems to embody all of what a person stands for, their history, their story.  I figure her brothers will come up with the perfect nickname because Josephine Annabelle is an awfully long name for such a little person.  But I hope that she will feel we have named her character well.