i am not the amanda that i was a year and a half ago. something swiftly and soundly died in me about 17 months ago. sometimes that's what happens: death happens so that life can take shape.
i am not an "adult", graduated, married-- whole, healed and happy. i am not the amanda i thought i would be. i am also not the amanda that lived in a hospital 2 years ago. i am not the amanda that looked at twinkling christmas lights from the 8th floor of Childrens. i am the amanda that had to let a lot go, so that i could become an amanda i don't recognize.. so that i could be. and be.
i dropped my pen a while ago. i ushered myself into a life where i didn't control what happened next. (or at least i attempted failed, and attempted and failed some more not to control). i am glad i am not the amanda i was 17 months ago. but i am also not the amanda that i was 17 months before that: a student at VFCC and everything that accompanied that lifestyle.. the 17 months before that i was just beginning college-- just graduated, tentatively hopeful, heart given away.
hopeful. christmas is a season of hope. the birth of our long expected Savior signifies a hope, a people ransomed. as well as our continued hope for a second coming, His return.
i think there are a lot of earthly reminders of Christmas-- of our Christ hope-- even in some of secular Christmas practices. for kids, the month of December is a season of hoping, and a season of waiting. it's a season of expectations, and a time of wonder. everything seems "magical." christmas cookies, falling snow, twinkling lights, tree ornaments, jingling bells, joyful songs, wrapped packages, church productions. expectation. wonder… magic.
when 17 months adds to 17 months adds to 17 months somewhere you find along the years the marker where i stopped hoping. stopped. my expectations found their end in broken dreams. the flame of wonder went out. the magic.. the magic was gone. the month of december is not the only time i'm aware of it… it's just been the time the condition of my heart was most raw.
for a number of years i have silently hated Christmas. i am a holiday person. i am festive. i am easily excitable. i love to bring joy and share joy and experience joy. i think that's why my first inclination is to run (literally away) when Thanksgiving rolls around. i don't enjoy the way i feel nor do i want to share it-- but there is nothing more exhausting than hiding it.
the amanda i have been for the last number of years has let the emotions (and the lack of emotions), the memories, the struggles shape this month. and in a smaller way, my life. i have been challenged recently to take back those aspects of my life. and i am challenging myself to take it back right now.
here is where you come in. i invite you to journey with me through the next 25 days-- the first 25 of December-- as we lead up to Christmas Day. i will try my hardest to keep a daily update captured in words and through pictures on the ways i am taking back hope, taking back the magic… and in doing so, taking back a piece of my life.
i don't honestly know yet what this looks like: perhaps it's just a matter of finding the joy in the simpleness of making paper snowflakes, holiday cups, and seeing Christmas through the eyes of the children that have filled my life, perhaps it's surrounding myself with people and drinking eggnog rather than running, perhaps it's partially in reflection from others, i don't know. one of the things i love most in life is surprises, the last 17 months has been a surprise, i'm excited to see what surprises will come. i'm asking for your suggestions, for your encouragement, for your prayers. i'm asking you to walk this journey alongside me. if you want to.
maybe you need to heal, maybe you need to walk out of hate and into hope as well. i'm not sure where you're at, but i do know that complacency will leave us tethered to our frustrations and i'm frustrated enough to walk toward the something else i don't know.
come with me. 25 days till Christmas-- let the hoping begin. :)
