Jobless at Christmas {guest post}

By Stephanie Thompson | Twitter

I don’t like surprises.

Actually, let me clarify-I like surprising other people, but unexpected interruptions in the rhythms of my life make me uncomfortable.

I’m the one who likes to sit in the front seat of the rollercoaster so I can anticipate what’s coming next. Chalk it up to birth order, personality, life experiences … I like to have a sense of what lies ahead.

I’ve been learning to trust God more in this area. But, as you know, you don’t recognize progress until you encounter circumstances that test it.

Several years ago, my husband found out he was going to lose his job. Right before Christmas.

How do you prepare for that kind of news? We prayed, talked, and waited. And just as he thought, it happened.

My mind had not forgotten the prophetic nudge I had received randomly at a stoplight a year earlier. The Target sign advertising seasonal hiring had drawn my eyes and, for some reason, it resonated with me. As the light turned to green, the thought was packed into the back of my mind and I proceeded down the road and onto my day.

Until a year later, when we faced with my husband’s job loss. Questions loomed. Working at Target would entail nights at work and sleep during the day. How does one do that with a two year old? What about getting my older kids off to school? Would I have to work on Christmas?

God spoke into our lives in a way we had hoped but could not have imagined.

My husband’s company did not have a current space for him to work, so they gave him the opportunity to work from home until January, which was something he had always longed to do. I did end up working on Christmas, but the blessings in that season of waiting came packaged in ways I never anticipated.

Scriptural narratives consistently bear witness to a God of surprises. The packaging of the Messiah was no exception.

Of course, the Jews were well familiar with the prophecies including:

Isaiah 9 :6-7: For a child has been born for us,
a son given to us;
authority rests upon his shoulders;
and he is named
Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God,
Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.
His authority shall grow continually,
and there shall be endless peace
for the throne of David and his kingdom.
He will establish and uphold it
with justice and with righteousness
from this time onward and forevermore.

Micah 5:2 But you, O Bethlehem of Ephrathah,
who are one of the little clans of Judah,
from you shall come forth for me
one who is to rule in Israel,
whose origin is from of old,
from ancient days.

The anticipation of his arrival was passed down through generations. Hope wove through the retelling of how God’s hand guided, intervened and never abandoned them. The Torah spoke of the repeated acts of redemption on behalf of the Israelites. And now, as a fractured people, the promise of permanent restoration appeared to be close to reality.

But how do you reconcile all that was hoped for in a Messiah with the reality that he arrived as an infant? Not a seemingly powerful king. Not a savvy political figure. Not even an adult.

God spoke into their lives in a way they had hoped, but could not have imagined.

Yet, truthfully, what had been pictured was not what transpired … at least not from a human perspective. Since fear and despair can quickly clutch us as we wait, how can we let hope and joy liberate us in the midst?

We remember the narratives which speak of God’s character throughout history. We, like, the Israelites, cling to the ancient truths which speak to present circumstances.

“and again Isaiah says,
“The root of Jesse shall come,
the one who rises to rule the Gentiles;
in him the Gentiles shall hope.” Romans 15:12

God speaks into our lives in ways we hope, but cannot imagine-even when our blessings look differently than expected.

About Stephanie:


Stephanie is an ordained pastor, speaker, writer and mental health advocate. She writes about sensing the voice of God and encountering the Holy Spirit in the midst of our everyday routines. In addition, the themes of parenting and mental illness find themselves woven into some of her posts. She is a member of the Redbud Writers’ Guild, and her pieces have appeared at Altarwork, Amity Coalition, Her View From Home, The Mighty, and The Mudroom blog. Stephanie lives in the suburbs of Chicago with her husband and three teens. She blogs at stephaniejthompson.com. Follow her on Twitter and Facebook.

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St. Ignatius, Mary & the Great Advent “Yes” {guest post}

By Kimberly Baldwin

While in grad school I spent some time in India with fellow students. After dinner one night, our host led us through some of the city’s streets until we ended up in Dharavi, which I would later learn was one of the largest slums in Asia, covering more than five acres in the heart of the city and home to as many as100,000 people. Dharavi was like nothing I had ever seen or experienced. We walked single file down the narrow alleys, the streets of Dharavi, following our guide closely, minding his instruction to keep close.

It was getting dark and it was a busy time of night. There were people everywhere. It felt as though I was pushing my way through a crowded train car. Our guide told us to avoid stepping in the water. With no proper waste system, the water running down the walkways was sewage. There were slabs of meat hanging from open windows. There were tiny shops. There was corrugated metal, cardboard and wood, all pieced together to build homes and businesses, a community. I was overwhelmed in every sense of the word. How do they all fit? How do they not get sick?  How do children not get lost? When we finally emerged from the narrow alleys of Dharavi we were led up five flights of stairs to the roof of a neighboring building and told to look down.

Below was Dharavi, the community we had just walked through. All I could see were rooftops pieced together, the alleyways not visible from the view above. Then looked up and out. The rooftops kept going. Dharavi kept going. It was bigger than I could have ever imagined. We had only covered a block. There was so much more. Stretching out before me were the lives of thousands of people … women, men and children living and breathing, working and cleaning, preparing food for their families, bathing their babies, caring for those who were sick. Suffering and celebrating. Laughing and crying. Dying and being born.

In Ignatian Spirituality, St. Ignatius of Loyola invites us to contemplate the incarnation in two parts. In the first part we are asked to imagine what the Trinity sees when looking out upon the earth before making the decision to enter into it in human form.  

For me, when I pray this first part of the contemplation I always see Dharavi.

I see the expanse of metal rooftops going on for miles, seemingly without end, and it astounds me every time that somehow God sees all of this and is, at the same time, still acutely aware of the individual moaning and exultation of each person. We don’t just get lost in the mix and that to me is astonishing. God can both see the broad view of the whole world (the rooftops of Dharavi view) and at the same time can see, feel, and hear the inner workings of each and every single person … all 7.5 billion of us. God sees all of this and then decides to enter into it, right into the middle of all our pain and all of our mess.

But first, Mary had to say yes.

For the second part of the contemplation on the incarnation, Ignatius invites us to imagine what that moment must have been like for Mary. However we might describe what Mary’s life was like in her time and day, it’s safe to assume it wasn’t easy. She most assuredly had dirt under her fingernails on the regular. But when presented with what must have seemed a crazy proposition, she said yes, and in doing so, made a very clear statement about her life’s orientation. Advent invites us to orient our lives just the same.

This is what Advent boils down to for me.

Advent … a time of hopeful anticipation, a time of inviting God in, a time of recognizing where we need God, and a time of re-orienting our lifetowards that which matters most.

My family and friends know that I love Christmas. I love all the cheesy romanticmovies. I love the lights and the photo cards that come in the mail. I treasure buying presents for the people I love. But I don’t think I could love Christmas the way I do without Advent.

Advent is when I am reminded that, just as Mary had to say yes, I too have to say yes. Not a one time yes but an ongoing, day-by-day and year-by-year yes. I have to make a decision about the direction I want my life to be heading. I have to open myself up to the God who wants to make a home in me. Advent gives us time to decide (maybe for the first time or maybe again), towards what or whom is our life oriented. 

Then we might see more clearly the incarnation. We might more joyously participate in the lights, and music and gifts of Christmas because Advent will have prepared us well.

The seemingly secular Christmas hype won’t concern us because instead it will serve as a reminder that the Trinity looked at the world and upon seeing the destruction and the suffering, responded out of compassion and mercy, deciding to incarnate God’s very self into the world in order to heal it. But that’s not all (as if that wasn’t enough). Advent reminds us that God gazes at each one of us in the very same way, with compassion and mercy, wanting to heal us, wanting to re-orient our lives. We just have to make the space. We just have to say yes.

About Kim:

As a wife and mom to four young children, Kim Baldwin is happiest when spending time with family and friends, enjoying the gorgeous Arizona sunshine, watching a little HGTV and volunteering with organizations doing good in the world. Professionally, she spends her days working with awesome undergrads in the Next Generation Service Corps at Arizona State University who are committed to creating change. This is where her passions lie and where her heart is most drawn. Kim looks forward to connecting with you as you too discover and share how you have been called to love and to impact change as you carve out estuary moments in your everyday life. Read more from her at http://www.ignatianmama.com.

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For December, the theme on the blog is “The Other Side of Advent.” Let me know if you’re still interested in guest posting (I’m usually willing to extend deadlines)! Check submission guidelines here.

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Advent in Spite of Christmas (Christmas with Littles Edition)

Christmas is meant to be magical, right? Starry nights, mistletoe, crackling fireplaces and soft snow falling outside while we are snuggled up under blankets with tea inside, watching It’s a Wonderful Life for the 80th time. And it still is—magical, that is– except that for this “brief” (10 year) blip in time, we have a child in our home under five years old. As a mom, perhaps this is what Christmas looks like for you:

1. Pull out the decorations. Unload and figure out where to them put so the kids can’t pull them down and smash every one. Wish you had cleaned the house before decorating on top of the clutter.

2. Set up the nativity set, Advent wreath, Advent calendar, and Advent book and wonder if you are over-doing it in an attempt to be a Good Christian Mother.

3. Give the kids the Little People nativity set to keep them busy while you put brightly colored lights on the tree (you like white lights, but your five year old won the battle this year). You glance over and see that Mary is in the back of a dump truck with the angels in hot pursuit.

4. Day 3 of decorating: allow the kids to “help” you put ornaments on the tree. Eighty percent of the ornaments end up on the bottom fourth of the tree, though you know that by December 23rd, there will be NO ornaments there.

5. Curse whoever thought it was a good idea to decorate trees with toys that kids aren’t supposed to touch.

6. Advent day 1. Begin the Advent ritual: light a candle, read page one of the Advent Book, move the first figure out of a felt envelope and Velcro precariously onto the manger scene at the top (swatting at hands that try to grab all the other figures tucked into other day’s pockets). Tell kids to stop picking their noses, hitting each other and grab the one year old who is throwing ornaments down the stairs because he likes the sound.

7. Figure out how to answer a tiny person who has no concept of time when they ask you, “When is Christmas?”

8. Do all shopping online from the comfort of your own home while drinking a glass of Merlot in the evenings. You forget about the steep shipping and handling fees, but decide it is still worth it not to schlep three children to stores to shop. Your brothers will get one less candle because of this.

9. Advent day 2 : You try and untangle the theology that mashes up Santa, Bethlehem, the North Pole and frosty the snowman, yet this doesn’t stop you from showing your kids the Christmas cartoons you loved as a kid.

10. You decide not to send Christmas cards this year and feel like a Bad Person. You wonder if you should ask people for their address when they ask you for yours, making them believe they’ll get a card in return.

You reflect on how nutty Christmas with small children is. And yet you remember loving being around kids at Christmas time when you were single. The excitement, energy and wonder is beyond what most adults are capable of exuding. And kids take this ridiculous Christmas story of a young woman getting pregnant with God and they BELIEVE it. They dig into the darker parts of the story we hadn’t thought of excavating. And they draw magic out of the dust, the grit and the grime.

So, yes, this is exhausting, but seeing this season through the prism of small people gives you a unique perspective on a familiar story. It forces you to audibly speak what you believe and why you believe it.

Children escort us through the story of Christmas straight back to Jesus.

 Because after another year of appointments and disappointments, moves, job changes, politics, personal and world tragedies, decisions, new friends, old friends and ordinary life, we are ready for a reset.

Advent whets the appetites of our souls for the Jesus who was born in squalor and later turned water to wine, then thundered from the grave. Advent is the pixie dust we sprinkle on our normal lives to remind us that God was there all along.

Life is not as it seems: a teenage girl isn’t a teenage girl, a star isn’t a star and a baby isn’t a baby. Something within us aches for more and Advent reminds us our ache is not for nothing. There is more–and Advent uses the most childlike among us to bring us back to the sacred ordinary of God-as- squealing-baby lying in a stable.

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