Why do we renovate old buildings or redo our homes? Usually because we are ready for something new. Perhaps the space has fallen into disrepair, or we are just ready for change. Our spiritual life requires maintenance, as well. We are all subject to entropy. I think about this every time I clean my house. I pull out the vacuum, the dog freaks out and everyone suddenly needs to be in a different room. But I’m stuck sucking up all the dog hair. I loathe vacuuming and apparently so does the dog. The worst part about this chore is that I know more dog hair will appear (within minutes, if not seconds). This is entropy. It happens everywhere! It not only happens on our kitchen floors and in our gardens, but in our friendships and in our spiritual lives, as well.

Thus, the need for restoration. The longer we let things go the harder it is to recover. When we buy an old building, we know it’s going to be rough because nobody has been keeping it up. The paint is peeling, the pipes are leaking, the wood is rotting; it’s usually a gut job. Once we have gone through the demolition phase, which I wrote about in part two of this series (check it out here) or if you missed part one about soul restoration (check that out here), it’s time to start designing the new space.

When we are updating buildings, we usually look for ways the space can be better utilized. How can we use this area to the fullest? I feel this way spiritually. I’m tired of my old way of doing things. I want something new. I have tried my way for a long time. I’m more than ready to try God’s way. A place I really struggle personally is to find joy. I tend to look at everything wrong with any given situation to the point of overlooking anything good. Can you relate to this? This was the culture of my family. There are many, many great things about us, but finding the bright side? Not so much. My uncle once told my aunt that she was defined by the things she hates. Yup.

I have to work so hard not to complain. I honestly don’t even always know I’m doing it; it just feels like talking to me. Do you have something in your life like this? Maybe you always put yourself down or you have no patience for anyone who doesn’t do things right (i.e., your way). Maybe you don’t make time for people, or you deal with a jealous heart. Whatever it is, are you sick of it? Ready to change?

Sick of it was how I felt about a month ago when we were in the middle of our second move in less than a year. An unexpected move. We sold our house (that I loved, but we wanted more space). Intellectually, I knew at some point we were going to have to move if I ever wanted more said space, but I wanted to just move into the next “dream” house. Well, this move was a multi-tiered plan that involved going into a rental while we looked for said new place. Let’s just say I was not finding the “joy.”

As events unfolded, there were steps in there nobody saw coming (especially me). For instance, we bought an old school building to renovate into living spaces with the plan of going in ourselves. While a very cool idea, this was not in my plans. But surprise, the school wasn’t ready anyway before we had to be out of our rental. So (wait for it) we bought a tiny cottage to remodel and move into in nine days. People said it couldn’t be done. Turns out it really can’t be done, and we had to spend a couple of nights in one of our Airbnb rentals that was available only because we were waiting for the air conditioner to be repaired. So, place to stay. Check. Any chance of sleeping after a near 100-degree day. No check.

I am not really one to swing with the punches. Thus, all the complaining. If I were to swing into any mental illness it would probably be a hoarder. I love to save things. I keep clothes from college. Scones from last week. So, you can see being forced into a minimalist lifestyle might evoke some complaining or just talking (however you see it.) So, as you can imagine I needed to do some redesigning of my thought life. I had painted myself into a corner. I was living in a small closet of complaints when I could be living in a whole tiny cottage. One day I caught part of a sermon on the radio about not giving into our compulsions. Ever feel like a sermon or article is talking just to you?

The Holy Spirit convicted me through the audible voice on the radio. It hit me so hard, I forgot about the library books I needed to return and sat in the car listening and then had to go on a long walk just to process where I was spiritually. My complaining and unhappiness had become an ugly habit, a compulsion. It was time to knock down some walls and rearrange the rooms. I had locked myself into a dark little corner when there was so much space. So much to enjoy. So much to be thankful for. That night I went for another walk, this time in my new neighborhood, and it was nothing short of magical. How had I not seen it before? I caught a glimpse of the sunset over the lake across the street, families gathered at outdoor tables lit with twinkle lights and someone played old music from the 40s and I thought, wow!, I get to live here?

I was so focused on the dollhouse-sized washer and dryer and the lack of counter space in my tiny cottage that I had missed the beauty of living near the lake and the simplicity and joy, yes joy, of having a small place. I felt like a veil had been lifted. Wait! I’ve been using this space all wrong. I wanted to paint over the hideous colors of discontentment and bitterness and redecorate with thankfulness and peace. I opened all the windows and aired the place out; gone was the musty stench of ungratefulness and in came the fresh air of a new perspective. I could never do this on my own. I needed the conviction of the Holy Spirit to open my eyes and my heart to what God had for me and this time it came to me over the radio air waves.

Renovating our soul is not just getting rid of the old but planning for the new. The new creature you are in Christ. Therefore, if any man be in Christ, he is a new creature: old things are passed away; behold, all things are become new. (2 Cor 5:17) One that can change, that can grow, that can find joy (or contentment or peace or forgiveness). The Bible says joy cometh in the morning. (Ps 30:5) After a hard season of demolition, it’s time to rethink, update and rearrange our lives. What do we dwell on? What do we talk about? How do we spend our time?

What’s one of the first things we want to do when we renovate? Have people over! Come see the changes I have made in my house or more importantly the changes the Lord has made in my heart. Before in this area I was ugly and selfish (pull out old photos), but now the Lord has changed my outlook. I see things through His eyes. We want to share the renovations in our homes and in our lives. Come over, have a meal, a conversation in this new space. I want to tell you what the Lord did for me. How things have changed by His grace. What’s the best part of a makeover story? The after shots.

Although we want to make changes for ourselves, we also make changes for those around us. I want to be a place people find safe and comforting. Relatable, yes, but someone that can move past the challenges and provide shelter for those in my “neighborhood.” I want to be useful to the Lord. The prayer of my heart is that God can repurpose my hurt and struggles to further His kingdom. The Lord will always be doing maintenance on me, but I want to be a place people can come to get shelter from the rain, inviting and warm . . . even if there is a lot of dog hair.

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The Hitching Post

Fuzzy Hope

Christmas is such a unique time of year. As a kid it’s so intense, mostly about the gifts (let’s be real), but also, all the special things like decorating cookies and twinkling lights and watching favorite movies while snuggled up in red plaid pajama sets. Yet, as I entered my teens and young adult years, it lost some of its charm; I couldn’t quite get those old feelings back. The lights were not quite as bright and the wreath cookies not quite as sweet. The pressure to find the right gifts and fit in all the events started to feel like a chore. As a parent, I get to enjoy the wonder of it all again (but this time on the other side-the work side). The wonder isn’t going to put up its own lights or remember whose gift is in which identically wrapped box after the dog eats the tags off.

As a child of divorce, your lack of not being able to do it all and be everywhere is never felt as deeply as at Christmas; although in retrospect, it was good practice for marriage. The minute I told my Grandma I was engaged to my husband, she blurted out, “I get Christmas Eve” . . . it was July. We still talk about how smart that was. We were too distracted by wedding venues to realize we should probably add a disclaimer, but my husband congenially agreed. Guess where we go every Christmas Eve? (I’m taking notes.) No matter what your arrangement, you can never be in enough places or bring enough gifts or food. Because the thing with Christmas is, that it highlights what you are good at and what you are bad at. My mom can wrap a gift so that the wrapping is the gift, where I just gave a friend a gift with the price tag still on (it was on sale) so at least she knows I can find a good bargain.

While I’m beyond blessed with family and lavished in blessings, I am at the same time more keenly aware of the brokenness that many may feel during this season. The losses are felt in a more profound way this time of year. The strings of white lights reflect not only the awe and magic, but also the loss and heartache. The people that are missing, the fractured relationships, the pushed down depression or anger or bitterness that may surface in the cold air of December. Like Charles Dickens’ famous line “It was the best of times, it was the worst of times,” Christmas for many of us can be a tale of two Christmases The joy of eggnog by a fire with those we love and trying to smile while Aunt Claire asks you why you aren’t married, have children, or didn’t bring more dinner rolls or Uncle Clyde asks if you have been promoted, published your book or if you would like to hear about his eczema issues (just kidding he doesn’t ask).

Unlikely of Places

As the holidays approach, most likely you are being asked to contribute or attend an event, that although you will show up (with cookies) your heart isn’t right. Perhaps there are family members that are difficult (see eczema story), maybe you feel judged or unappreciated? Holiday gatherings can bring out old insecurities and emotions we thought long buried. We revert back to our childhood roles that are just not who we are anymore. Frustrations, jealousy and misunderstandings may float through our heads as we drive to parties and stay to dance around our conversations. The enemy wants us at our worst during these times. He wants us ineffective and distracted, and while it can be lovely to chat about the job and kids and how amazing the tree looks, maybe there is someone that needs to hear something deeper. Maybe a hot cocoa in a comfy corner by the fire can lead to healing words over a deep struggle. When our hearts are right, the Lord can use us, even in the most unlikely of places.

When we feel warm and fuzzy over Christmas, it’s easy to think everyone feels this same way. After all isn’t that what we see as the cards start to arrive, lining our windowsills—smiling faces looking back in holiday cheer. Isn’t everyone enjoying the parties and shopping and looking forward to the day of being reunited around a tree? What we don’t see in the cards are the sleepless nights over our jobs, anxiety over grades, the toll of finances and the health issues yet shared. We see the good, as it should be, but also not the whole truth. I’m trying not to be fooled into thinking everyone one else is problem-free this season.

I wrote an article years ago on what goes on behind a photoshoot; all the people at work to make that one picture look perfect. Fake hair, fake eyelashes, fake food and computer generated images make models and homes look flawless. I myself have modeled in these shoots and there is not only a small army of professionals styling each set, but also liberal airbrushing to catch any possible flaws. When I look at Christmas cards, I enjoy the adorable children and creative settings, but I try not to think that they have it all together; especially, as I look around my house, at tinsel waiting to get stuck in my vacuum and I still can’t find the O from my silver letters that spell NOEL. (My son keeps asking what NEL means!) I’m behind on shopping, decorating and baking (i.e. buying random things to bring to parties because I can’t remember what I signed up for). Quite obviously, I do not have a team of stylists working on my Christmas card setting (which I’m actually not sending for the third year in a row).

I’ve decided with the house lights off and the Christmas tree lights on, that it looks almost pretty—but those lights also cast shadows. I gathered with some of my best friends last week to celebrate, but one of us is missing (she went to heaven two years ago). I miss her so much and when we are all together, I feel like I’m always looking over my shoulder, wondering who is missing from the table. As we shared salted rosemary bread and warm cookies, we also shared our loss. While I gather with family and friends, I’m overwhelmed with my love for these people. The Lord has been healing my heart with hope of knowing this life isn’t all there is and I will see those who have gone ahead, especially, my sister (who has been in heaven far longer then she walked this earth). I have mostly known life without her, but I still feel her absence more keenly at these times of emphasized togetherness. I, also, long to sit again on my grandma’s bed and tell her all my problems or ride one more time with my grandpa on a sulky, training a young race horse.

For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord!

As I smile for pictures by the tree lights, know that I’m happy and blessed, that I love eating snowman-shaped cookies and watching you open my haphazardly wrapped gift. The Lord is filling my longings with promise and as I look at my nativity set, I know that He, the Christ Child, came to suffer & die for mankind. He is lit by the glow of my tree in this moment; however, He was not in a polished glass manger scene, but in a dirty, smelly stone cave. It was most likely not well-lit, or warm or comfortable, but yet He brought the gospel of peace (“He restoreth my soul”). He would start His life on the run from men that wanted to kill Him, yet would not be angry. He would be called out of Egypt to a humble life, strikingly void of any grandeur, yet He would not be bitter. He is a King, but came as a servant. He was born, so that He might die. He gave all, so that we might gain everything.

The tree lights pale in comparison to my Saviour’s light. He illuminates all my blessings and all my faults, all my efforts and all my failures. He promises to be the strength in my weakness, the grace in my failures, the joy in my soul and He uses everything for His purpose. He is no longer a helpless babe in a manger, but God come in the flesh. He has known hunger and betrayal and deep loss, He knew His purpose and never looked for the easy road, He did not seek an earthly treasure, but one that does not rust. This time of year as the twinkling lights dance in the darkness, I’m in awe that even the tiniest of lights can be seen. I can be a little light in someone’s struggle because His light shines though me and perhaps brightest through my pain. A string of lights during the day goes unnoticed; it is in the darkness that they really shine.

**update: The missing O from NOEL has been found and returned to its rightful place!

What do the tree lights illuminate for you this time of year?

How can you be a light in someone’s darkness?

Drafts on new perspectives (Soul Restoration part 3)