Share a Holiday

Recently, I became aware of a concept that is both inspiring and intimate. As soon as my eyes were opened to it, I was very compelled to try it. I am still unsure of why this seems like such a good idea, but that is what I wish to explore in this post.
My best friend sat down with me on Friday and we started talking about Thanksgiving and how her family had spent the day with their childhood friends instead of extended family. She remarked on how special it felt to experience a holiday with someone else for a change. The conversation moved on, but her comment stayed with me. It seemed odd. The only time I've known people to spend holidays with anyone other than their families were couples. That is typically how I meet my cousins' girlfriends and boyfriends: they bring them to the family gatherings at Easter, Thanksgiving, and Christmas. My mind went immediately to the possibility of myself sharing the holidays with someone else. Unfortunately, I told myself, I would need a boyfriend for that. Though, maybe not.
Then I got to thinking, as one does when one encounters intriguing possibilities. Thinking then led to blogging, as it does, so please bear with me.

Why share a holiday?
What is it that makes these holy* days special? One significant feature of holidays is that working and/or schooling members of the family are usually able to come home and spend time with one another. Another is the element of rest that is very present in everyone (except those burdened with the task of feeding all the other family members). Yet another is the community spirit that arises in decorating, events, and general good feelings inspired by festivities.

Right about now you're thinking: that's all well and good but what about the actual day? Why is it important to experience that with someone other than family? If you grew up the way I did, your extended family are not strangers. Sure some of them live several states away and some of them really are strangers, but the majority (about 35 people last time I counted) make an effort to see one another anywhere from once to three or even four times a year. Suddenly, holidays are less special. The same thing happens every year for Thanksgiving: everyone piles into the car and drives an hour to an aunt and uncle's house so we can spend six hours eating, talking, petting cats, and watching the ball game. Sure the tradition is nice, but the same thing happens for Easter and Christmas, including egg-hunting and present-opening respectively. Having only celebrated holidays in this recipe all my life, I'm very curious as to how others celebrate. I've taken to asking my friends, "what are your family traditions for Christmas?" and "how do you keep from getting bored at the turkey table?" The responses I get only make me more inclined to sample their lives for a holiday.
What is this I discover? Not everyone eats a special breakfast that is only had on Christmas? Not everyone code-names the gifts around the tree so no one can peek? Other people travel across the world to celebrate holidays instead of staying home? I'm learning that some families are similar to mine in their festivities, but most are not. Who knows, learning about their traditions might help me decide new traditions for my own family!

Now let's dive a little into the intimate aspect of this concept. We've all heard the Christmas songs about loved ones snuggling up to each other by the fire, going on sleigh rides together, and giving each other gifts. This post is not a cuddling commercial, neither am I endorsing "Baby It's Cold Outside" as an appropriate means of celebrating Christmas. What I mean by intimate is the invasion of the comfortable atmosphere of a family gathering. A stranger in the midst can shake things up, but when approved of, that stranger gets an insider's peek at years worth of hard work in bringing a family peaceably together for meaningful days.
In other words, every family is different in how they celebrate holidays. One family's traditions might clash with another family's habits, but both sets should make an effort both to make the events special, and to share their ways with others.
Traditions are things that shape who we are, mark our childhoods, and impact our futures. They are significant, and sometimes sacred. There are some people who would not be particularly happy to unfold their traditions before an outsider's eyes. However, for the people who are open to that option, spreading successful holiday habits can be fun, even a sign of respect from peers who embrace those same traditions.

If you've shared a holiday with someone else's family, feel free to leave concise, constructive feedback in the comments area! Was it unique from your typical experience? Was it special and inspiring or did you simply miss your own family's ways? I'd love to hear from you!
If you haven't, I would encourage you to try it. Please don't invite yourself over to someone's house, announced or otherwise. However, if the opportunity/invitation comes along, seize it! It could be a good insight to something extraordinary! Or just a way to renew your appreciation of your own traditions. :)

*literally meaning "set apart"

Worth Writing

It's a blank page. What could possibly be important enough to mar it? What do you say to a blank page? Hello...

How do you begin to write something of such importance that it is worthy of putting black marks on a white sheet? What is the phrase that is worthy of being written, no matter the purity of the page?  

In the beginning...

Of everything that could be said, is it worth breaking the silence? What is more beautiful than peace? What can you say to improve the moment?  

Hope...

What is it that must be written? Why do I have the desire to write if the potential for failure and mistake is so prominent?  

Don't give up...

What justifies my use of words? How can I make an impact? Is someone waiting for me to speak?  

Good news...

Why do we read books? Why do we have conversation? What are we looking for in the words?  

There is someone who can save you...

Why do we place trust in one another? Why do we hurt when they betray us? What is worth breaking our hearts?  

Help is here...

Where can we find the answer written on a page, spoken in words? What are we trying to say? Has it been said before?  

A child is born...

Who got it right? Who inspired us to speak and write the only words that mean anything at all?  

The one who sets men free...

How can we know that we can trust him? Why are we sure it is him and not someone else?  

"You have the words of eternal life..."

It's a blank page. It has no flaws, but it's missing something. It's missing the message that each of us is yearning to know. But there is somewhere that the message is already written, where truth is spoken for us to hear.  

"...And they will call him Immanuel which means, 'God is with us.'"

We write and we speak for one purpose. To bring others to God. To tell them the good news of a Savior who loves them enough to die for them! To give them true peace and real hope! The one who made the world wants to have a personal relationship with each one of his beautiful creation. So write on every page! Speak to everyone you can! Share the good news and never stop.  
"For I am not ashamed of the gospel: it is the power of God for salvation to every one who has faith, to the Jew first and also to the Greek."

Dawn Run 10-26-13

Puffing lungs and pumping legs push me up the hill
Searching eyes and swinging arms spur me onward still
Tight lungs and tired legs extending to press on
Careful eyes and cold arms warm and are rewarded

Frost-covered grass snaps;
ground crunches below.
Ice-burdened wind moves;
my hair whips behind.

Light blue hues chase dark blues center-ward
Bright yellow reaches over green points
Pink stretches south as orange heads north
White frost melts from the tops of the tents

Standing still and staring
Sighing softly, smiling
Sunrise stands and sings,
"No night lasts too long"

To Me, There is Meaning

[this is a piece I did a while back to try and describe why little things affect us the way they do. Not sure if I nailed it, but these are things that I have done and felt. :) ]
To me, there is meaning in soaking up the sound of the lapping waves so I might hear it again when I am miles away. There is meaning in touching a wooden table in the hope of remembering how it felt. There is meaning in turning my head to catch one last glimpse of the place I am leaving so I'll have an imprint to study later.

To me, there is meaning in bringing the cup to my mouth before the drink has cooled so I might remember the taste of it when my tongue hurts. There is meaning in staring past the sun in the hope of seeing what it blocks. There is meaning in choosing to sit beside you so I can hear your words as the accompaniment to mine.

To me, there is meaning in smiling just a little wider in the hope it will brighten your day. There is meaning in studying the veins of a leaf so I might remember when I had no cares. There is meaning in pushing my feet ahead farther and faster so I can feel the wind against my cheek longer.

To me, there is meaning in anything that holds meaning for you. There is meaning in meaning alone when you need something to have meaning. There is meaning in temporary things for a temporary time and, if we're lucky, the meaning will last longer than the thing or action itself.
To me, there is meaning in believing that a moment is worth something beyond itself. There is meaning in what made the moment happen before we knew what meaning was. There is meaning in this life to reflect the meaning of the next life.

Missing Missions-Siblings

This one isn't exactly cheerful. It is very hard for me to write this, but I don't want it all trapped inside me. I want you to know one reason why it was hard for me to leave the mission-field. I didn't struggle as much with coming down off "Spiritual-High Mountain" into the "Plains of Boredom". I struggle most with missing the people I met on my missions trip. I'll expound on that missions trip later, but for now, here is a summary of those people and what it's like being away from them:

Earlier today, my mom and I talked for a bit about what it's like to miss the BWC Staff. "Why don't you miss Julia (my best friend who is now in college) like this?" My mom asked. I replied, "because I know I can see her again soon. It does something very different to your heart to realize that you may never see these people again in this life." They are not the people you politely ignore on the street. They are not the people with the cute kids or the cute puppy that you smile, wave, or coo at. They are not the people you spend your whole life with and never have to worry about leaving.
They are your missions-siblings. These are the people you grow incredibly close to in an incredibly short period of time. These are the people who pray for you every time they see you because they know you, and they know you need prayer. These are the people who will drop everything to talk to you. These are the people who can spend hours sitting with you on the beach doing nothing but breathing, soaking in the Spirit of the Lord in God's creation. These are the people who tease you when you mess up in rehearsal and bomb the performance. These are the people who will steal the last cookie from you to see the look on your face, and then make a new batch for you the next morning. These are the people who love you without needing to know everything about you. These are the people who will put up with you even if they don't agree with you. These are the people who you may never meet again in this life after the three months you spend together. These are the people who rip my heart to shreds every time I think of them. The ones who you share inside jokes with that the world will never understand. These are the people who you let become so close to you that you spend every possible moment with them, ignoring the fact that you are always one day closer to leaving them. These are the people who love you in a very different way from anyone else on this earth.
These are the people whose memories bring tears to my eyes even now. My heart leaps into my throat and I let it, because the memories are special.

A few weeks before I left, I considered why I was letting myself get so close with people I would have to leave. It seemed as though it wasn't worth the pain that I knew I would feel if I continued that way. The pain I'm feeling right now, and have felt all month long. The pain that might leave one day, but that is not this day. Back then, I pushed aside my shield and bore my heart on my sleeve. I never took it off. I let the love that each of them was willing to give, flood me. My heart is so full that it continues to spill over, causing tears to splash out frequently.

I didn't mean to, but I choked up even as I was talking to my mom. Every time I lose it, I think it will be the last time. Just how many tears can I cry for the loss of those special days? Those people are still out there somewhere, living the lives that they have always lived. But now I can't see them every day. I can't walk out of my room and see Isaiah cooking, Ross on his phone, Tara feeding Johnny, Drew and Steff debating about books, Caroline and Matt(the newly-weds) flirting, Ophelia ready with a "Good morning!", Zach reading his agriculture book, Lauren giggling or facebooking, Seth drinking his third cup of coffee of the morning, Erik and Luke chasing each other up the halls, Sarah planning music. It's all gone now. That house is empty. There are no Cummings's or Slacks or youth groups to meet.

Next year, when I go back, it will be different. None of those images in my head will ever be repeated that same way. And tears come just by thinking of it. Why is it gone? Why can it not last forever? I wept harder than I have ever wept on the day I left them.

God, it's hard. I don't understand. I want it all back the way it was, when I was content to just sit with them. It was so perfect. It is so hard to be content now. It's not impossible, but it's just not the same. I love them, God, and they know it. Why is it important that I hurt this much missing them? Will this pain improve me, make me more like You? Is so, then I gladly accept, but sobs are no fun. How many more tears, God? It's hard to breathe. Where are they? Are they ok? Do they hurt as much as I do? Will I ever see them again? God, thank you for making such wonderful people who can change my life like this. Please protect them and help them through the pain. I love you, God. Why else would it hurt this much? Help me, please. I trust you.

I do not post this to discourage you from going on a missions-trip. That is not my intention at all. I only wish to be honest with you that it might not be easy to come back home.

Stars and Prayer

I spent a good deal of time marveling at the stars on this beautiful, clear night.
Every time I see the night sky, it's like seeing it completely new. It's so vast and glorious, totally unique and simple in an alarmingly complex way! 

And then I realized, talking with God is kind of like that. He's huge and wonderful, but He has provided such a simple way of communicating with Him. Even if we cannot understand how it works, we know it does. As much joy as I take in observing the stars (on fire and burning out), I find so much more joy in talking to my Heavenly Father.
Because I could yell at the stars for hours and nothing would change, but God in Heaven listens to me. Jesus, the Son, intercedes on my behalf every day and then puts massive spheres of burning gas into the galaxy to remind me that He's there and that He loves me. 

Thank you, God.

'Ello, World!

'Ello, World! I hear it's "the thing to do" to write an introductory post, so here goes!

I'm Susie: a nerd, a writer, a runner, and a Christian. I am loved by the God of the Bible and I hope to use this blog to share the love that He has given me. 

This blog is a general conglomeration of thoughts, opinions, and personal works (hence the sketchings).

I chose the name of this blog for several reasons: 
1) I am an amateur artist, working best in pens. 
2) Sketches, in my mind, are synonymous with scripts in the sense that they are the outlines from which great works are born.
3) "I am, and always will be, the optimist. The hoper of far-flung hopes and the dreamer of improbable dreams." Thank you, Doctor Who.

I hope you enjoy this adventure with me. 

~SusieB