The Work of Christmas

When the song of the angels is stilled,

when the star in the sky is gone,

when the kings and princes are home,

when the shepherds are back with the flocks,

then the work of Christmas begins:

... to find the lost,

to heal those broken in spirit,

to feed the hungry,

to release the oppressed,

to rebuild the nations,

to bring peace among all peoples,

to make a little music with the heart…

And to radiate the Light of Christ,

every day, in every way,

in all that we do and in all that we say.

Then the work of Christmas begins.

-- Howard Thurman, adapted

 

Wishing you the Merriest of Christmases and a blessed New Year.

May we do the work of Christmas all year long.

Welcome Winter

This morning I saw a moon sliver, framed by birch silhouettes, in the most stunningly clear, crisp, inky blue winter sky. We rounded the corner and the magic was lost, but the image is burned in my head. It echoed Silent Night to me and reminded me to slow down and bask in the wonder of the holiday.

To Do Now or Later: Traditions

I'm a sucker for traditions. Yours... mine... those of people I've never met, doesn't matter. I enjoy reading about traditions and then figuring out how to incorporate them into my own if it's feasible to do so.

For the last seven years, one of our traditions has been to alternate holidays with our families: Thanksgiving in Baker, Christmas in San Diego, then the following year Thanksgiving in San Diego, Christmas in Baker, repeat. This has worked out really well and we always know what to do, where we're going, and what to expect when we get there.

This year, however, the family unanimously decided it would be best if we stayed in Oregon for Christmas and come to visit later when flights are more reasonable. While it's nice to not have to make travel plans or cry over plane tickets and ridiculous surcharges, I am feeling a bit lost. This has led to many conversations about making our own traditions.

While we have incorporated some of our families' traditions - I am making the Bentley brisket for the Monday Night Posse Christmas party on Monday and always fill stockings to overflowing in true Henshaw fashion, for example - we have not really made our own as a couple.

That's not to say there aren't things we do every year - like get a tree as soon as our schedule and finances allow, watch ELF, and buy a picture frame ornament to mark a moment in the last year (something we've been doing since 2006, the year before we married). We just don't have anything that's really ours.

It's a little late this year, but we are talking about traditions we want to establish now and then can modify or add to when we have children. This came out of a conversation in which I said something to the effect of, "I have lots of traditions, we just can't do them until we have little people," and Jason replied, "Stop trying to write me out of this! I want to be part too!"

I was a bit convicted by that statement. I am one who gets quite annoyed when people say, "When we have kids we'll x, y, z," or, "We're not going to do that until we by a house..." (within reason, of course there are some things you can't do until an earlier requirement has been filled), meanwhile life is happening now and they are missing it waiting for the next thing.

When we have children, they'll be around for 20 years; the time we have now is ours and I want to spend it making beautiful memories with my husband. That'll make Christmases with babies all the more sweet.

What are your traditions?

As long as I'm at AMC, this may well become a tradition.

Winter Reflections

Look not mournfully into the past.

It comes not back again.

Wisely improve the present.

It is thine.

Go forth to meet the shadowy future, without fear. 

~ Henry Wadsworth Longfellow ~

The red, gold, green, and white has come out of their boxes. Christmas music has been my companion for three weeks and the chill is in the air. Amidst the joyous chaos that is the holiday season, I find myself reflecting more and more on this last year and all the changes in store for us in the coming year. As a culture, we tend to think of January 1 as a clean slate, though it's not really true: it's merely a continuation of whatever we set in motion the year before.

Two years have passed since I had my meltdown. A year ago I was a barely functioning exoskeleton. The contrast between this year and last at this time is stark and beautiful. I am overwhelmed by the love and encouragement I received from those dearest to me and my heart overpours with gratitude for those who came alongside us and helped bear the load - emotionally, physically, and financially. I am so blessed. We are so blessed.

I feel such hope for the next year. More intense than the hope I felt while surrounded by the Monday Night Posse on New Year's Eve and more real. Does that even make sense? I'm not paralyzed by fear - I'm excited!

As we spend time with our family and friends in the coming weeks, sharing meals, exchanging gifts, playing games, and generally enjoying each other's company I want to have in the forefront of my mind the central purpose of the holiday I celebrate - the simple, beautiful gift that was given to mankind - and the gift I was given this year that will not end when the clock strikes Midnight on January 1.

 

War Wounds

"And you know what the worst part was? He was one of the Army guys who just got back [from Iraq on Tuesday]." 

My brother's voice reverberated in my head as I drove through the back roads and geological wonders of central Oregon, racing towards my first home. My weekend plans for a run with my BFF in Bend, shopping, and picking up our anniversary project from the ceramic shop cut short by a 7 am phone call. A night in the ER, seven stitches total, missing teeth, possible jaw fracture. The Flag didn't drop to the ground and neither did he.

The story I had heard played over in my head, despite Safe Haven audiobook on level 15 volume trying to drown out my sobs. A night with friends, two beers, visiting with the bartender who used to be our neighbor, leaving at 1 am for home. Hearing a crack as he left, turning the corner to see what was going on. Then it happened.

My brother, full of righteous anger, grabbed the Flag from the ground, drenched in urine, started folding it, and asked the guy who the f *ck he thought he was pissing on the American flag. The "kid" rose to the challenge and asked Bobby what he knew about the damn flag. My brother told him he was a Marine for six years, fought for the flag, had friends that died for the flag, that he almost died for it, so who the hell was he. He was one of the Army guys, young, just returned from Iraq. Then the kid charged.

My heart caught in my throat again as I remembered that part of the story. "You know what the worst part was? He was one of the Army guys who just got back." My brother and I had started sobbing three hundred some miles apart. "I couldn't hit him. He was my brother. He was wrong, but he was my brother. I took three to the face like a champ, never hit the ground, and had a death grip on the flag. I should have killed him, and I would have gone to prison and I'd be okay with that, but I couldn't even hit him back."

At first, in the confusion, the crowd had held my brother back, but when the fourth punch landed they realized there was only one aggressor in that "fight." The kid walked away and Bobby went back inside to wash his hands. Then he caught his reflection.

Three missing teeth, one barely hanging on, seven stitches total, possible jaw fracture and oral surgery, liquid diet. And one heck of a swollen lip. He never raised a hand to the kid who obviously had war demons of his own. The Flag didn't hit the ground and neither did he.

***

Author's Note: I wrote this post a number of ways on my four hour drive on Sunday from Bend to Baker. I cried a lot and I cried more remembering the pain in my brother's voice as he told his story. In the end, I decided to leave out the commentary in my head on lack of veteran support and reintegration and tell the story simply as it played in my head. What struck me the most on the drive home was until this point my brother's war scars had been mental. Now, a civilian for a month, he received some very physical war wounds on the street of his hometown, from a fellow soldier and veteran. That is the part that hurts all of us the most.

Thankful Thursday: Present and Future

My very own cake wreck.
How many errors do you see?

Today is my last day as Development Assistant at LifeWorks NW. It doesn't seem real yet, but as the hours tick by I know I am getting closer to closing this three year chapter of my life.

This job was a blessing three years ago when I found myself 30 credits away from graduating with my Bachelor's, but my full-time job would not accommodate a full-time school schedule. I needed a job that would work with my school schedule. What I found was a surprisingly well-paying part-time job with flexible hours, PTO, and benefits. Life works when you get the help you need.

I continued my part-time schedule after graduation, with consistent encouragement full-time hours would become available, but unfortunately the agency was never able to deliver on this. During the three years as Development Assistant I honed my database skills, delved into the world of event planning, and expanded my knowledge of the intricacies of office work. Life works when you get the help you need.

Today is my last day. When I close down my computer and walk out the door it will be for the last time. I am thankful for the opportunities and skills LifeWorks NW provided me and I am excited for the future in store for me as a result of the lessons learned here. Life really does work when you get the help you need.

PS: Check out my guest blog at Rough and Rede.

Transitions & Things

There's been a lot of change and chaos in the Bentley household as of late. In short, our house has been in a constant state of recovery after the July rainstorm, all our office and kitchen things have been piled in our bedroom and living room, I've been working two part-time jobs, and we've been housing friends and family nearly every weekend since May.  My mantra this summer has been, "Two more weeks, you can survive anything for two more weeks."

Two weeks ago, I accepted the Campaign and Donor Records Coordinator position at Adventist Medical Center Foundation. This is the job I have been filling in at and was honored they invited me to interview and ecstatic when they called the next morning after my evening interview to offer me the position. For the first time since graduation I feel like I can breathe again. Our finances have been stressful and this is just the boost we needed.

During the last two weeks of transition, as I look at my piles of laundry and pile of things in the living room, I feel the chaos of my surroundings permeating my being. The more the stuff sits, the more I begin to wonder if I really need it. And really want it gone. I've been reading minimalist and simple living blogs trying to figure out how to go about downsizing and simplifying my life. I like peace and clean lines, but you'd never know it looking at my house (or desk) right now.

As part of our transition to a DINK household (double income, no kids), something we haven't been for a couple years, we are taking a hard look at our finances and our lifestyle. We want to expand our family in the next couple years and as a caveat to that we really want to ingrain healthy habits - both physical and financial - now by paying down our debts and making exercise a staple in our routine. 

One option we are looking at is leaving our 2 bed/1.5 bath townhouse in the suburbs for a 1 bed/1 bath apartment closer to my new job. It's easier for me to take public transit and the commute for Jason from the places we're looking at are shorter than what I will be driving starting next week. I love my townhouse and am both excited and terrified of downsizing. 

I want simplicity back in my life, I want those clean lines and a place for everything. I want to reach in a drawer and get exactly what I'm looking for. The difficult part is deciding what to let go of and what to hold on to. I'm starting small - a drawer here, a cupboard there, a closet - and slowly but surely freeing myself of things. You can do anything for a year, and if moving to a small house is what is best for us at this time I have no fear that we will be happy in our new little nest - wherever that may be.