Christmas is coming: ready?

One week until Christmas Eve. Are you ready? That’s the question I was asked twice by clients yesterday and numerous times by friends over the last week. No, I’m not ready if by ready you mean all gifts purchased and wrapped, tree up and decorated, house decorated, cards sent, cookies made, menus planned, and stockings hung. In fact, the only way you’d know Christmas is coming by looking at my house is by the single string of lights (only half of which are working) hung on a 3-foot Norfolk Island Pine we bought last weekend and a 10-inch tall flat wooden tree from IKEA that we’ve had for several years. I see that my husband has brought up from the basement our Christmas coffee mugs but they’re still in a box on the kitchen floor. As of last night I’ve bought most of our gifts but some won’t have arrived by Christmas. Cards will likely not get sent.

I’m behind.

I’m telling you this not to underscore my failure to be ready, whether by lack of planning or simply because of busy-ness, but to come alongside you if you’re not ready also. A couple days ago I noticed there was a “home tour” happening online where bloggers were posting pictures of their decorated homes, room by room displays of swagged greenery and glittered trees. Lovely, all lovely, but honestly, it made me feel like there was a competition going that we all were in, even if we hadn’t signed up. No, I’m not in that competition.

You know that song by Alanis Morrisette, “That I Would be Good”? I’ve embedded the video below (if you’re reading via email you may need to click through to website version). The pattern of the song is that she identifies all kinds of “failures” and for each counters that she’d be good in spite of it. Here’s the first verse, but you can read the rest of the lyrics here:

that I would be good even if I did nothing
that I would be good even if I got the thumbs down
that I would be good if I got and stayed sick
that I would be good even if I gained ten pounds

I’ve been dreaming up my own lyrics related to Christmas:

that I would be good even if I baked no cookies
that I would be good even if I sent no cards
that I would be good if some presents were mailed late
that I would be good…

You get the idea. Maybe you’d like to sing along also with lyrics of your own.

The good news is that Christmas comes anyway to those of us not ready. I’m redefining ready. Jesus was born; God is with us; love is all around, even in my sparsely decorated home (and yes, even in “these” days). I’m here to celebrate. Bring it on.

~~~

[Photo: taken of the wooden tree from IKEA. Merry Christmas!]

God with Us: An Advent Interview with Emilie Griffin

New for this Christmas season, Paraclete Press has issued a “Reader’s Edition" of a modern Christmas classic: GOD WITH US: Rediscovering the Meaning of Christmas, edited by Greg Pennoyer and Gregory Wolfe. Last year, the first hardcover illustrated edition of this book was a #1 bestseller on Amazon for a couple weeks and sold more than 25,000 copies. This year, Paraclete has re-designed the book as a softcover to make it more affordable and accessible to readers.

The book includes 5  groups of readings, covering the time before and after Christmas. Eugene Peterson wrote the introduction, followed by the late Richard John Neuhaus, Scott Cairns, and Luci Shaw who wrote the readings for weeks one, two, and three, respectively. Kathleen Norris wrote the readings for the week before Christmas, and Emilie Griffin wrote about the days between Christmas and Epiphany. Interspersed with the readings are brief histories about the church season and feast days written by my friend Beth Bevis.

Earlier this year, I featured Emilie Griffin on this blog when she generously wrote an endorsement for my book Finding Livelihood. I’m thrilled to have her back on the blog, this time for an interview about GOD WITH US and her contribution to it as well as her insights on Christmas and the anticipatory time of Advent leading up to it. Emilie is the author of Small Surrenders: A Lenten Journey; The Reflective Executive: A Spirituality of Business and Enterprise; Clinging: The Experience of Prayer;Wilderness Time: A Guide for Spiritual Retreat; and Souls in Full Sail: A Christian Spirituality for the Later Years.

How does the title GOD WITH US apply to the four weeks before Christmas?

EG: I remember how in my childhood the anticipation of Christmas was in a sense the most important thing about the holiday. I still have a memory of childhood Christmas trees – spruce and pine, mostly – and the scent of needles on the floor. My grandmother who kept house for us, was not fond of the vacuuming but I thought the whole thing was wonderful.  Even though our tree was not as grand as others, it was the expression of an inner meaning, a promise.

How would you define the observance of Advent? Why is the observance of Advent spiritually necessary?

EG: One of the editors of our book, Greg Pennoyer, says in his introduction: "Like most adults I have a difficult time relating to Christmas." He describes how his encounter with the liturgical tradition changed his mind, changed his heart, in a sense made Christmas possible for him. My experience is not exactly the same, but in Advent we open ourselves up to that encounter.

Your section of the book is from Christmas to Epiphany. Can you give us a preview of what this week holds?

EG: My section actually starts on the day after Christmas. I conceived of these days as a way to experience the friendship of Jesus, to walk and talk with him as the disciples did. At the same time we must deal with such difficult feasts as the Feast of Stephen, with the martyrdom of Stephen, and the Feast of the Holy Innocents, with the slaughter of the holy innocents, who are also martyrs. Christmas doesn't seem quite so jolly when it includes these events. 

The contributors of GOD WITH US come from a variety of traditions within the Christian faith. How does the observance of Advent provide common ground among these traditions? How can the observance of Advent provide common ground between liturgical and nonliturgical traditions?

EG: Some of our writers emphasize the differences among the liturgical traditions, but I am very conscious of similarities. There are two Roman Catholics, two Anglicans/Episcopalians, and two Orthodox. Every one, with the exception of Richard Neuhaus, is a poet. A few are also playwrights. This highly charged creativity helps us to appreciate the beauty and wonder of the amazing experience of Christian faith.

Many readers of GOD WITH US have never "done" Advent before. They may have thought of Advent as something for the liturgical churches, if they thought of it at all. This book makes it possible to get ready for Christmas, no matter what church you belong to, even if you're not in any church. It helps us to deal with the yearning, the hope and anticipation, the waiting for a Savior, which is common to all. The Bible heralds this. But even those who are not in Bible churches report a longing, a need, a certain anxiety and a hope for the future.

Is Christmas just for the children? Just for the liturgical churches?  I don't think so. God is with all of us, all the time. But God wants us to come closer, to know him better, to know each other better as well. I'm glad if this book can have some small part in that conversation.

How would you recommend that a person who is already feeling stressed by too many work-, family-, and holiday-related expectations integrate the reading of GOD WITH US into his or her Advent schedule without considering it just one more thing he or she “should” do?

EG: I am aware of all the pre-Christmas stress because I  experience it myself. I mark the first day of Advent on my  calendar but sometimes the date slips past, with infections, travel, speaking engagements, visiting, shopping lists, Christmas card preparation, whatever. Even so I find myself choosing things that remind me of the inner meaning of the Holidays. Books like the latest one by the late Oliver Sacks, Gratitude. Advent cards that point me to the birth of Christ. The one we received this year reads, "O child of promise come/O come Emmanuel/come prince of peace/to David's throne/Come god with us to dwell." An Advent concert called "A Time for Hope and a Time for Joy", taking place at our local cathedral on Tuesday, December 15. After the attacks in Paris I bought a book by Jonathan Sacks, former Chief Rabbi of Britain, called Not in God's Name: Confronting Religious Violence. It is about attempts to reconcile Christianity, Judaism, and Islam, and the angels figure importantly, at least metaphorically, here. Eventually I let go and surrender to God's Word and work in me. Grace takes hold and a certain transformation begins. 

Is there a particular day of the year that is the most important to you in your own personal, spiritual life? If so, has it been the same day over the years or has the specific day changed over time?

EG: I know I should pick a day in the Advent or Christmas season but I have to choose September 29th, Feast of Michael and All Angels.  There is something about the loving presence of the angels in every major event of the liturgical year that I find deeply moving. Their love and guardianship at the Annunciation, the Epiphany, the great Marian feasts, not to mention the Easter season are worth mentioning.  Then there are the angelic visits in the Hebrew Scriptures: Abraham and his visitors at Mamre, Jacob wrestling with the angel, Elijah's encounter with God, Paul on the Damascus Road. 

~~~

You can order GOD WITH US directly from Paraclete Press or Amazon or wherever books are sold.

Happy birthday, dear blog: #11

Yesterday was this blog's 11th birthday. I made my first post on October 6, 2004. You can read it here: Day one. Rereading that post now, I think that while some things here have changed quite a bit, other things haven't. I'm pleased to see that the trajectory of the initial vision has stayed fairly true. Thank you so much to the readers who have been here for many years, for those who are more recent, and for those who dip in and out, come and go. Cheers to readers! I wish I could pass you all a piece of birthday cake.

~~~

[Photo: taken of an amazing blue door in the courtyard of one of my favorite little cafe and ice cream spots. A door means welcome; fitting for this post and this blog's initial beginning and now its start of another year.]

In praise of high school reunions

I went to a public high school in coastal Florida. It was early-to-mid 70s, and the cutting edge of education theory and practice looked different than it does now. I'd always heard – although I have no actual proof – that the state of Florida used my school as their experimental site. Try it there first.

We started the day at 7 something and ended at 12:30. Our dress code, as I remember it, prohibited only bathing suits and midriff exposure. We had modular scheduling and open campus, which means we could go to the beach or out for breakfast if we had a long enough open period between classes, which there often was. (We also could use the open periods to study, the model's initial hope.) We could be done for the day by mid-morning if we scheduled our classes tightly in the early hours. But we had good teachers with high academic expectations and lots of opportunity for civic involvement. An interesting combination of rigor and laxity.

I just returned from a weekend-long high school reunion. My fortieth. I've been gone a long time – we all have – so I didn't know what to expect. The points of commonality with old classmates fade with the years, after all, and forty years is substantial. I figured if I only spent time with a couple of my closer friends and some time on the beach, the trip would be worthwhile. I was wrong because the weekend was so much more.

When I was in high school I had a lack of imagination about who people were inside and about what people could become, about the ways we could succeed and the ways we could be broken, about the ways that many already had been broken, even at 16. I didn't yet comprehend the complexity of human life.

Maybe that's the nature of being a teenager. Thankfully the nature of being mid-to-late 50s is that we've all lived a lot of life by now. The complexity of human life is no longer hidden. We are each of us, all of us, making our way.

Old friends and new-old friends, we talked late into the night (OK, early morning). We laid on the beach. Joked about our middle-age bodies and swimsuits. Bobbed in the Gulf. Reminisced. Prayed. Spoke of the future. Confided. Laughed. Laughed. Laughed. We spoke into each other's lives. Maybe that last thing is what surprised me most: that people who have been apart for decades have the power to speak into each other's lives by virtue of the fact of knowing each other growing up.

It felt sheer privilege to be back among these men and women I came of age with, to see such sparkle and verve, to feel a crazy inexplicable bond and love, even with those I hadn't known well, to witness what people have become and overcome.

Being in the presence of people I knew at the age of 13 or 15 expanded me. My life feels longer than it did last week, as if a thread that had been twisted to a knot at its end was untwisted and laid out straight again to reflect its true length, end to end.

My gratitude for the good that came from a high school operating on a misguided educational model is deep. My imagination over what people can become and what we can overcome and the ways that God works in all our lives is bubbling.

~~~

[Photo: a yearbook picture taken of me senior year by Bobby Whitlatch, copied now with my cell phone; evidence that I studied – usually – during those open periods. I still remember what I was wearing in this picture; you can't see them, but I was wearing burgundy and white plaid pants, which I sewed myself. Yes, burgundy and white plaid.]

Celebrating in community – Finding Livelihood's book party

Last weekend we officially celebrated the launch of Finding Livelihood. We invited guests and rented a room at Open Book (home to The Loft Literary Center, Minnesota Center for Book Arts, and Milkweed Editions).

Inside those word-saturated walls, we ate cupcakes and drank Italian soda; we ate watermelon and raspberries, roasted vegetable antipasto and cheeses I don't even know the names of; all was prepared and served with beauty and skill by Blair Zafft and Nicholas Garding of JJ's Café Catering.

We played music. You can listen to the party soundtrack here on Spotify: http://sptfy.com/livelihood. We talked and laughed, maybe all of us a little giddy at the reminder that good things happen and new things are born.

While the congratulations about the book were flowing, inside I was secretly flooded with gratitude for the people who were there. Not only grateful that they chose to spend this Sunday afternoon in response to my invitation, but grateful, so grateful, that they have been in my life. They may not have contributed a word to the book, but they all have contributed to my life and the communities we share, out of which the writing of the book emerged. We all help shape each other, and I have been so fortunate to have these people in my life.

I said a few words before reading a couple sections from the book, and one of the things I said was that it is good and right to celebrate in community, that as I’ve gotten older I’ve learned more and more that nothing of value is created in isolation or in a vacuum.

In the room: my husband of 35 years; my sons and daughters-in-law (I burst from love and pride just thinking of them); my parents, to whom the book was dedicated; my sister and brother-in-law; my mother-in-law, sister-in-law, and nieces; dear close friends; neighbors and old friends; friends from college; my former pastor and current pastor; friends from church; friends from former Bible studies or book groups; friends I've met in classes; a teacher of a class I currently take; long-time family friends; new friends I'm just getting to know; writing friends; the man who cuts my hair; a friend from my graduate program; an uncle and a second cousin; the list goes on.

There were many who couldn't be there and who have been an important part of my life and this book, and I hope you know who you are if you're reading this.

So Finding Livelihood is launched and on its way in the world. Tons of love and good will sent it forward from that room, like a smash of champagne across its bow. My heart is full. Travel well, little book.

~~~

My thanks to David and Ben Vessel for taking and sharing their pictures.

What day is this? Finding Livelihood's release day!

Today is tax day and also book release day. I’m happier about the second than the first, particularly because I owe taxes and will be getting no refund. Interestingly, in The Geography of Bliss, Eric Weiner writes about an experiment in which researchers found that happy places in the brain fire off when we involuntarily write checks for things like taxes, just as they do when we voluntarily donate to a good cause of our choosing, a phenomenon I will watch for with skepticism as I write my federal and state checks today. But back to the book release. I so very much hope that those of you who pre-ordered the book and will be receiving it in the mail any day now will love the burst of spring green color on its cover as you take it out of the mailing envelope. And even more, I so very much hope that you will like what you find on its pages. And finally, today is also a happy day because it’s the birthday of a very good friend, Marleen, whom I’ve known since fourth grade, long before either of us thought at all about taxes, but even then were dreaming of who and what we’d be when we grew up.

~~~

You can order Finding Livelihood from: 1) the publisher, Kalos Press; 2) Amazon; 3) me (ask if you want it signed); or 4) any bookstore.

The person behind a book blurb: Bret Lott

Bret Lott is the next endorser I'll focus on in this series that I started last week with Luci Shaw. Bret is the author of 14 books, both literary fiction and nonfiction, the former editor of The Southern Review, and professor of English at The College of Charleston. While I've briefly met Bret a couple times, I don't personally know him. He started teaching in the SPU MFA program the year I graduated. Fortunately, though, I had the opportunity to hear him speak as a guest faculty lecturer and as the keynote speaker at a Glen Workshop. Since I don't know him, it speaks all the more highly of his generosity and kindness that he would read my manuscript, particularly over the busy Christmas season, and offer his good word about it.

My first reading of Lott's work was Jewel, the 1991 novel that became an Oprah Book Club selection. Actually, I didn't read it; I listened to it as an audiobook when driving alone one gray day from Minneapolis to Chicago. I remember sitting in my car at a rest stop, tears on my cheek, listening through to a chapter's end. Since that reading/listening experience, I've come to learn more about Bret Lott, and, importantly, to learn from him about writing and how to be a writer of faith. He cares passionately about writing with integrity: integrity in the use of words; integrity in the way words are used in the context of faith and art; integrity in terms of whether the end result of the words will be a blessing to the reader. Read his books on writing – Letters and Life: On Being A Writer, On Being a Christian and Before We Get Started – and it's not hard to feel the energy of that integrity.

It's interesting to find that Bret's writing rubs up so often against the topic of work, as in labor and jobs. It's one reason I reached out to him to consider endorsing Finding Livelihood. His father was a working man – worked "for Nehi, for RC Cola, for the food brokerage" – who always showed "his children, the importance of doing our best, and the proof of that labor: his provision for our family." In Letters and Life, Lott writes: "So is it at all a surprise that the first book I ever wrote, my first novel, was about an RC Cola salesman who finds a kind of solace in his work, and that throughout all I have written there runs a thread of salesmen, and cashiers at grocery stores, and firemen and plumbers and work and work and work?" As he makes clear, writing is the work given to him; I'll add that he does that work superbly.

Here are some passages I commend to you from Letters and Life and Before We Get Started:

"Here is our truest beginning point of an understanding of the creation of art by the Christian: the created world has a moral order to which we must submit, and through that submission and only through that submission will harmony and beauty and truth even begin to be approached by us who profess to practice art. Further, we do not commit art in a vacuum but are a part of society—of humanity—at large, and therefore we indeed have a role in that society, a role that can and will contribute to the harmonization of human activity at large. We have been blessed to be a blessing." (from Letters and Life)

"And then, in the writer’s answer to whatever has called him to write, and in his willingness to look at each word with fear and trepidation coupled with faith that speaking it will be an act in obedience to what has called him to speak it, those words will line up, will breathe, will become the vast army of sentences that will take up residence in the new Israel every story, novel, essay, and poem ought to be." (From Before We Get Started)

You can learn more about – and from – Bret in this video interview with John Wilson, editor of Books and Culture, filmed after the publication of Letters and Life. Towards the beginning of the interview, they talk about the theme of work that shows up in his writing.

 I hope you'll visit Bret's author page on Amazon and pick out something wonderful to read!

Finally, here's what Bret wrote about Finding Livelihood:

"This is an absolutely timely book, and an absolutely beautiful one too. Ms. Nordenson examines what it means to work, and does so in a lyrical, practical, moving, and spirit-filled way. In giving us her personal stories and universal observations, we are given as well the means by which, in these difficult days, to make sense of what it means to work. I like this book a lot for its voice and vision, and especially for its hope."

~~~

[Photo: Bret Lott, used with permission.]