TGIF: Precious Pixels + Handwritten Letter + Sun + Fine Art Print + The Help

By Tina Francis, with Danielle Hardy

Hiiii my beautiful SheLovers!

[cups your face in my hands and smushes cheeks]

I’ve missed you! *** (I, as in Tina}

Sorry for going MIA. I just got back from a two-week work trip to India. Writing TGIF from the road was near impossible while juggling jetlag, an intense travel itinerary and spotty access to the internet.

So, my friends Ashley and Trinity (and new SheLoves friend Laura), saved the day (as friends often do) and did an awesome job of bringing you TGIF while I was away. I loved getting a glimpse into the Top 5 things they hold precious. Reading their posts made me realize that there’s great value in having more women share their voices. Less is not always more.

It’s like my undying of love of popcorn. I chomp through fistfuls of the stuff like a rabid dog foaming kernel dust (salt) at the mouth. Now, I like classic movie popcorn without butter. But I also love: white cheddar, dill, kettle corn, ketchup, etc.

My friends bring their unique flavour to popcorn … errm … I mean TGIF! So you will be seeing many more guest posts in the future.

Coming back to the business of this week’s post, I’m technically back in town, but still recovering from a severe case of jetlag. I put makeup on in the shower, get into imaginary heated debates with Gingrich on the skytrain and speak a hybrid of English-Aramaic-Hindi-Spanglish.

To spare you the gory details of my current state of lunacy, this week’s TGIF is brought to you by my friend Danielle of “What One Girl and Her Decals Can Do” fame. You’re going to love her!
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5 Things I love …

By Danielle Hardy | Twitter: @hardydanielle

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Confession: It took me WAY too long to put together five things I love. I don’t know if it’s because I don’t love enough things or if I just love too many things to encapsulate into words. I hope it’s the latter, because I want to love in a B.I.G. way. So, after much thought, I would like to share five things  I love and invite you into my heart and see what makes it swoon.

Precious Pixels + Handwritten Letter + Sun + Fine Art Print + The Help

1. Precious Pixels: I think Will Smith said it best in his hit single “Just the two of us …”

Oh man, my mom would be SO mad at me for sharing this picture, but I just love it with all my heart and it’s not because of my amazing style sense that I had as a child (although that floral shirt and black stirrup combo is quite amazing), but because it just so perfectly captures the relationship between my mom and I.

Her beauty was breathtaking. She definitely was no fashion expert, as the majority of her days consisted of sporting purple sweat pants, a northern reflection sweater(wolfscape included), navy patent shoes and a floral dicky (you know, those amazing faux turtlenecks from the early 90’s?), but her heart was so stunning. She always made time for me, loved me unconditionally, fiercely protected me, prayed without seizing for my soul and let me sit on her lap as much as I wanted and whenever I wanted. I spent countless car rides to school fixated on her lap as she was driving (something that is heavily frowned upon now for whatever reason).

It’s been 15 years ago since my mommy went to Heaven. She passed away from a two- year battle with cancer when I was 15 years old–three months short of my sweet 16. I look at this picture and remember my life with her in it: Safe, loved, encouraged and believed in. I can’t explain how much I miss this woman.

There’s not a doubt in my mind that if I had one more day on earth with her that I wouldn’t climb back on her lap and soak up her love and affection.

2. Handwritten Letter: Hello, LOVE LANGUAGE!!!

You can imagine my delight over this little treasure I found under the Christmas tree this year.

My son, Mattias, had the sweetest idea to make a present of his own to give to me: A beautiful letter expressing his four-year-old thoughts and love for me. He brought a blank piece of paper and pen to Daddy and asked him to write down what he said. [ MELT.MY.LITTLE.BLACK.HEART!!] I realized how much he watches what I do, studies what I say, and pays attention to what I spend money on

This kid is going to make a great GREAT husband.

3. Sun: Where are you?

I love the sun. Doesn’t matter if it’s humid sun, dry sun, 46 degree sun. I JUST LOVE THE SUN. It means flip flops and walks to the park. Frappucino’s and sunglasses. Happy, smiling people. Colour. Health (No vitamin D in the form of a pill). The sound of my kids playing outside. Camping trips. Walks to the beach. Windows in my house wide open. Blowing bubbles, impromptu hop-scotch with the kids and the sun setting at 9pm.

Please hurry summer … please?!

4. Fine Art Print: Inspiration

As a person that thrives on huge amounts of creativity I found this little number and immediately scooped it up off the internet with my handy dandy visa.

Loved the colours, design, femininity and the words kind of leapt off the page at me. I feel this to be true in my life. I used to despise those yucky and sometimes endless “winter” seasons that came in and out of my life. I see now, though, that they have brought me to where and who I am and I can appreciate the ups and downs that come with living life … that there is a beautiful summer after every winter. #seasons Buy here. 

5. THE HELP: The power of one; The power of many

I received “The Help” as a present from my hubs (who must know me so well to get this for me) a few months ago and couldn’t wait to read it. I sometimes find it hard to finish books, but I devoured this within 48 hours.

I love this story because it represents a person and a people who were willing to stand up for justice and what was right. They counted the gigantic cost of speaking the truth and telling their stories and they did it anyway. They didn’t know if their efforts were going to make any sort of change, but their voices were heard and they made a difference.

I love the power of one person willing to fight to create change and I love the power of a group of people joining alongside and do what they have in their hands–to use their voice and stand up for what is right. People willing to fight injustice with their sphere of influence and their God-given talents. #empowered #worldchanging

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Okay, that picture of Danielle’s mom? [hand on chest] LOVE. See what I mean? It’s amazing hearing everyone’s stories.

So, we’d love to hear from you:

- Do you have a picture you treasure just about as much as your holy book?
- What’s melted your heart this month?
- When you reach for some inspiration glee, what’s in your special drawer?

If you would like to write a guest post for TGIF, write to our editor (Mama-bear) Idelette or leave a comment below.

Love you more than crunchy-chewy-gooey chocolate chip cookies.

xoxo,
Teen
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About Danielle:

Danielle Hardy lives in Surrey, BC (we’ll refer to it as Cloverdale). She is a wife to Paul and mommy to two of the cutest “Hardy Boys” around. She is owner and creator of Urbanwalls, Etsy seller, Graphic Designer, aspiring blogger and thrives in awkward moments. She blogs a uwdecals.com and tweets at @hardydanielle

About Tina:
My name is Tina. Loved ones call me: Teen.

Words are my chocolate. Music, my caramel. Photography, my bread. Girlfriends, my butter.

Confession: Some girls dream about Manolo Blahniks or their next Hermes bag. Not me. I dream of freshly baked bread, perfectly barbecued meat & steaming bowls of Pho. My dream lover *cue Mariah Carey song* is someone who would read out a menu to me in Barry White’s baritone voice.

I celebrate food, ask for help, interrupt conversations, laugh and cry hard, acknowledge the elephant in most rooms, fight for the underdog and believe in the power of storytelling.

My word for the year is “Enough.”

I was born and raised in Dubai and currently live in the beautiful city of Vancouver, known for some of the best sushi in the world.

Creating Meaningful Traditions and a Family Manifesto

RELATE with Helen: “Fiddler on the Roof,” belonging and memories that last down the generations.

By Helen Burns | Twitter: @helenburns

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Those who really, really know me, know that my favourite movie of all time is “Fiddler on the Roof.” I first saw it when I was 16 years old and I managed to drag my then-boyfriend, now-husband John to watch it at the theatre with me three times in a matter of weeks. It was pure sacrifice on John’s part as he was definitely not a fan of musicals, but desperate to spend time with me.

I, however, was desperate to connect with something the story was telling me. Everything about the story resonated with my young heart, and it still speaks to me today.

It’s a story that parallels some of my childhood experiences and family history.

In this movie, the lead character is Tevye–a husband, father and devout Jew. Things in his small rural community are changing and he is grappling with God, life and imminent change.

Tevye opens the movie with these words: “A fiddler on the roof? Sounds crazy, no? But in our little village of Anatevka, you may say everyone of us is a fiddler on the roof, trying to scratch out a pleasant, simple tune without breaking his neck. It isn’t easy, you know. You may ask, ‘Why do you stay up there if it is so dangerous? We stay because Anatevka is our home. And how do we keep our balance? That I can tell you in one word! TRADITION! Because of our traditions, we’ve kept our balance for many, many years. Because of our traditions, everyone knows who he is and what God expects him to do.”

I, too, strongly value the beauty of meaningful traditions. To me they are like the unwritten history of a family and they give us a way to define ourselves. Most families have some traditions, though many wouldn’t even be aware of them.

The dictionary defines “traditions” as:

- An inherited, established or customary pattern of thought, action or behavior

- A belief or story relating to the past that are commonly accepted as historical though not verifiable

- A time-honored practice or set of such practices.

I believe in conscientiously developing meaningful traditions in life … in family, marriage and friendships. I have discovered that through these traditions our values and “heart-culture” are passed on from generation to generation.

Why Traditions?

- Traditions provide stability – In a world of constant upheaval and chaos, we desperately need some constants in our life. Things that we can count on and things that can be an anchor that holds us no matter what storms may come.

- Traditions help us preserve strong values - Research has shown that if you grow up as a child with strong rituals, you will experience much more resiliency as an adult.

- Traditions provide identity – One of the most essential needs for every human being is the need to belong. Being a part of a family, a company, a tribe that has traditions gives you a true sense of ‘I belong here’.

- Traditions create safety and trust – they open up avenues of communication – they build foundations and confidence because of the past investments of time over and over again.

A few Burns family traditions include:

• Family Nights

Ever since our girls were young, we made “family night” a part of our lives … one night a week with no phone, no interruptions. Just us committed and invested into each other. We made them fun and memorable. We are still committed to this as a family, even though it may be every few weeks, instead of weekly. I know everyone really looks forward to being together, especially the grandies.

• Date Nights

When our three daughters were young, John began “dating” them individually once a month. It was one of the most foundational parts of their developing lives which I believe still carries them with strength in their lives as adults and mothers. He still takes them on dates, as well as the grandchildren now. The connection that began so long ago is still so vital and beautiful.

• Toasts

This began on a Christmas Eve a number of years ago. After we had dinner and opened the traditional matching pajamas gift (and then put them on), we gathered and filled up our glasses and began to share from the heart. It surprised us how tender and yet powerful the words were that flowed, often accompanied by many tears. This is a time when we deliberately choose to invest words of honour and gratitude into the lives of those we so dearly love. This tradition is still one of my faves.

Many more traditions have developed over time. They are precious and mean the world to us.

Family Manifesto

Recently I wrote a note to each of my daughters and told them there was something I wanted from them. You see every year at Christmas and birthdays they ask me what I want as a gift and they know the answer is usually the same : “I don’t need or want anything … let’s have a date, instead.” So that has become my birthday tradition with my girls–a really fun time out together to celebrate me ageing!

But this year for Christmas I asked for something. I asked for a Family Manifesto–one that would uniquely describe “us” as a family. So, on Christmas morning I was presented with an awesome piece of wall art that is the first thing you see when you enter my home and upon it is written our story, our traditions, our values and our love.

As they presented it to me, my six-year-old granddaughter, Shalom, read it out proudly as the tears streamed down my face. Here are the words:

FAMILY GATHERS HERE
WE VALUE ONE ANOTHER
WE CRAVE TOGETHERNESS
We exhale in each other’s presence
We are fiercely protective of each other
We’re about being real, not perfect
WE ARE RIDICULOUSLY LOUD
We laugh until it hurts
We give without expectation
WE ARE GRATEFUL
We say “I love you” without special occasion
We break dance to polka classics
We wear matching PJ’s
We’re forever loyal to the accordian
We serve astounding portions of dessert
We have notoriously clean floors
We feed the birds, share licks of ice cream, and treasure hunt on the beach
We do art, we hot tub, we play bingo
We love fluffies and floats and espresso
WE PRAY TOGETHER
AND WE PLAY TOGETHER.

I want to strongly encourage you to be deliberate about creating valuable and lasting traditions within your core relationships. As I’ve discovered, traditions bring clarity, strength, value and hope to your life and the lives of those you love.

Proverbs 4:18: The ways of right-living people glow with light; the longer they live, the brighter they shine.

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My dear SheLoves friends, I’d love to hear:

• What traditions have you created with family and friends?
• If you were to write one sentence of your Family Manifesto, what would it be?
• Any other thoughts or comments?

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About Helen:

Helen Burns and her husband, John, speak around the world on the topic of relationships. They host the popular TV show “Relate with John and Helen.”

When Presents Don’t Look Like Gifts

For me? Really? You shouldn’t have!

By Ashley Mandanici | Twitter: @ashleymandanici
Illustrations by Katelyn Szekeres
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“This is a joke, right?”

I shuffled around the bottom of the box, attempting to find the “real” gift.

“What are you talking about, sweetie?” my mom responded. She said it with so much sincerity, I realized it was no joke. This was actually what she and her husband had got me for Christmas.

I could feel all the manners my mother had spent years instilling in me, slipping from me, replaced by my shock, disgust and the fact that I was a hormonal 16-year-old girl.

“What inspired this purchase? Seriously? What made you both walk into a store, look at this and think, ‘Yes, Ashley would love this’?”

Now, I know that this sounds bad, but you need to understand my confusion. For all the Christmases of my life, my Mom and extended family had been great gift givers.

Every year my Auntie would get me a pretty new Christmas dress–each year a prettier one than the last!
Then of course there was the year of the colourful, light-up microphone. That microphone was treasured and loved until it could not take anymore treasuring–or loving. From then on, I would not say or sing anything unless my voice was somehow amplified.

After all those years of Christmas gift joy, imagine my astonishment when I opened my gift that year.

Yes, that is correct. This slightly emo teenager who only wore black received this beautiful tie-dyed shirt. But it was not just tie-dyed, oh no.

“This shirt looks like it was made for a five-year-old!” I cried.

“No, no! It is supposed to look like that,” my mom attempted to explain.

“It looks like egg cartons tied to each other. Tell me why it looks like a science project?”

“Well, you see, it starts out small and then when you put it on, it stretches to fit your body perfectly. Go try it on! It will fit, and it will be cute.”

It neither fit, nor was it cute. I stood in front of my full-length mirror in tears as my belly protruded between my new shirt and my pajama pants.

At this point, not only was I mad about my dumb gift, but I also felt bad about being a jerk. I placed the shirt back into the box, thanked my mom and her husband and spent the rest of Christmas locked in my room, listening to the Backstreet Boys.

After that year, I am unsure exactly how it happened, but things just went downhill.

- There was the bedazzled-light-up-jean-jacket year.

- The cat-kettle-and-matching-lightswitch-cover year.

- And I am on my third consecutive wrinkle-cream-year.

“I want a refund.”

I saw this video–I Gave My Kids a Terrible Present–floating around the other day and it’s what got me thinking about this whole “gifts” thing. Jimmy Kimmel (one of those late night show guys) put out a challenge to parents to let their kids open one present before Christmas, but to give them a terrible present and film their responses.

[*Disclaimer: There is one child at the very end of the video that has a much- less-than-polite response to his gift. Don't watch if you get offended easily.]

Some things don’t look like gifts.

I know that Christmas is not about presents, but about the presence of our Saviour Jesus coming to this earth to give us new life. I also know that when a gift is given, it is about the heart of the one who gave it. But let’s face it, whenever anyone opens a gift (Christmas, birthday or otherwise), we hope it’s something good!

“I appreciate her getting us a present, but I didn’t know it would be like this.”

That’s a true statement beyond just the little girl’s terrible Christmas gift, isn’t it? Some things in life just don’t look like gifts.

If I were to have a sitdown with God and discuss the past couple of years, I can imagine my response being similar to that of the little girl’s in the video:

“God, I appreciate that you’ve given me these presents, but I didn’t know it would be like this.”

James 1:2-4 “Dear brothers and sisters, when troubles come your way, consider it an opportunity for great joy. For you know that when your faith is tested, your endurance has a chance to grow. So let it grow, for when your endurance is fully developed, you will be perfect and complete, needing nothing.

Some of the things that happened to me over the past two years have not looked like gifts–the two primary events being losing my dad and the ending of a serious relationship which didn’t leave me high-fiving my friends about what I got that year. It left me frustrated, sad, and confused; probably the same way the kid who got the onion for Christmas felt.

Katelyn (the wonderful illustrator of all the pictures) sent me one last picture (that I hadn’t really asked for) along with the others. She kindly said, “I added one I thought you could add to the end of your article.” Unbeknownst to her, it actually wrapped up what I want to say quite beautifully.

Just as I have had to learn about accepting gifts–the good and the bad–graciously, I need to do the same with all that life gives me. As Sarah Kay articulates so beautifully in her “If I Should Have a Daughter” TED Talk, I want to:

” … walk through life with my hands open. Which means catching every misery and hurt but it also means when beautiful, amazing things just fall out of the sky, I’m ready to catch them.”

I need to learn how to embrace the troubles that come and consider them a great joy—seeing beyond the trouble to the endurance and faith these produce.

My dear SheLoves sistas, in the spirit of great Gratitude, but honesty:

• What are some of the more “special” presents you’ve received?
• What have you learned about receiving and giving gifts?]
• Any other thoughts?

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About Ashley:

My name is Ashley and I am the Children’s Ministry Coordinator at Relate Church in Surrey, B.C. My mission is to develop the God-given potential in every child who crosses my path *Insert Whitney Houston’s “Greatest Love of All” here*. I love all things jazzy, particularly music, and I tend to break into song throughout the day for no apparent reason. I blog here and tweet @AshleyMandanici

About Katelyn:

Katelyn Szekeres is the writer of the blog, oddbutnice.com where she details her neurotic childhood, marriage and sometimes-evil cat, Gizmo. When she’s not doing that, she works as a Mental Health Worker, makes weird crafts, takes lots of photos and plans where she will be traveling next!

In the Fullness of Time: A Poem

“… the forests rise/ for the Hallelujah chorus.”

By Stacy Wiebe

In the fullness of time
the Tree Maker
took on leafy flesh.

A tender shoot
green, unhaloed,
grew to be
condemned, cut down.

Barkless branches crossed
and rouge rain
trickled over groves of grime.

Gnarled no more
the forests rise
for the Hallelujah chorus.

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About Stacy:

Stacy Wiebe likes biriyani, books and things that grow. She’s lived in Chennai, India for the past three years, writing and speaking with WOW and other non-profits.

Tales from the Parenting Trenches: On Teaching Children to Hold Out for a Second Marshmallow

Delaying gratification and other benefits of waiting for Christmas.

By Sabrina Connell | Twitter: @sabrinaconnell
My husband and are at odds when it comes to our desires for celebrating Christmas in a way we each find meaningful. The sight of presents spilling out from under a tree is enough to nauseate him. He’d rather celebrate in as austere a manner as possible–reverently, of course–echoing the simplicity that surrounded the birth of Jesus.

I, on the other hand, find deep meaning in the presents. Not necessarily in the giving and receiving of presents, but, rather, in the waiting and anticipation of giving and receiving them. I love watching our children pace anxiously around the tree each morning, silently taking inventory of the treasures they eagerly wait to claim. I love listening to them strategize the order in which they’ll open them. Our daughter, nearly eight years old, describes the anticipation as an ache that fills her chest.

“Hold on to that feeling, sweetie. Embrace the wait. That anticipation is what you’re supposed to feel. It’s the same feeling the wise men felt as they followed the star. You’re in good company.”

Advent is a season of anticipation. Learning to wait and sit with anticipation are important skills for children to develop. Such skills are central to the discipline of self control.

Self-control

Throughout childhood and adolescence, temperament and parenting work together to jointly influence the extent to which self-control develops. Granted, some children are biologically more impulsive than others, but regardless of temperament, children who experience parental warmth and gentle encouragement are more likely to develop self-control, because such parenting models patient, non-impulsive behavior. When parents are highly power-assertive and exercise inconsistent discipline or structure, children’s abilities to manage their impulses develops poorly or may even fail to function. The more opportunities children have to wait with anticipation and the more their parents provide gentle coaching and strategies for managing the wait, the more likely they are to develop self-regulatory skills that can lead them successfully in the future.

Studies

Researchers who study the development of self-control typically create laboratory situations in which children are offered a treat of some kind and are given two options: 1. Eat the marshmallow when the researcher leaves the room or 2. Leave the marshmallow uneaten until the researcher returns and then earn an additional marshmallow for waiting. For a peek at how different children behave in this type of experiment, check out this adorable video:

Researchers found that preschoolers who were better able to delay gratification (wait for the second marshmallow rather than gobbling up the one) matured into adolescents that were more responsive to reason, better at concentrating and planning ahead, better at managing stress, and even scored higher on their SATs than their less-impulsive counterparts.

Pacing around a Christmas tree for 25 days and living with that chest-about-to-burst-with-excitement feeling for so long, helps to develop some measure of discipline. I’d like to think it helps exercise the mental and emotional muscles our kids would need to hold out for that second marshmallow. I love to think of our kids on Christmas morning, restless hearts pounding as they bound out of bed and race to our room, eager to enjoy the spoils of the holiday. I love to think how those same emotions can transfer to their own understanding of what it means to wait for and celebrate the arrival of Jesus. I love to think of how I can find more meaningful moments for them to experience a similar joyful anticipation beyond the holiday season.

I often look to Fred Rogers (beloved host of the show Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood) for parenting (or really just living) wisdom and came across this gem of a quote this week:

“I like to compare the holiday season with the way a child listens to a favorite story. The pleasure is in the familiar way the story begins, the anticipation of familiar turns it takes, the familiar moments of suspense, and the familiar climax and ending.” ― Fred Rogers

So, my SheLoves sisters, I’d love to hear:
- How do you rekindle that feeling of waiting and anticipation for your children throughout the year?
- What types of strategies to you use to help your children endure moments of waiting?
- How have you helped them delay their own gratification?

About Sabrina:

An artist-turned-academic, Sabrina spends her days navigating between a wide variety of roles including that of mother, wife, graduate student, researcher and daydreamer. She is currently a doctoral student in the Communication Studies program at Northwestern University where she researches the various ways in which children and parents engage media and technology and the potential effects these interactions might have on the development of children. Prior to her time at Northwestern, Sabrina earned a Master’s degree in child development from Tufts University, as well as a Master of Arts in puppetry from the University of Connecticut. She has a passion for all things involving play, whimsy and the art of nurturing.

ShePonders: Christmas

“He, and not the Caesars of this age, is the Light of the World, the Messiah, the Savior.”

By Kelley Johnson-Nikondeha
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Audio: ShePonders: Christmas

Click on the link above for an audio experience of Kelley’s post.

“Jesus is the reason for the season.”

Growing up in the church and a series of other concentric Christian circles over the years, this is an oft-quoted truism during this season. Jesus is the reason for Christmas; the reason we celebrate. He is the reason we carve out this holy time on our annual calendar. Christmas is about Jesus, not about lavish consumption and consumerism.

Absolutely true.

And yet … it rings incomplete for me. Jesus is the reason for what? Is He the reason for gift-giving, cookie-baking, stocking-hanging, tree-lighting and hall-decking? Is He the reason for family gatherings; the reason we give to the poor at home and abroad? While the commemoration of His advent provokes celebration and charity, I still feel the message of Christmas is a bit muddled.

What is the Christmas story really about? What did Matthew and Luke intend as they wrote down their distinctive birth narratives we now blend together seamlessly into Christmas pageants? Why did the wise men bring gifts?  Why did the angels fill the celestial amphitheatre with song? Why did the shepherds run to see the baby?  What did the words of Elizabeth, Simeon and Anna mean to the first hearers in the ancient world? What is the rhyme and reason behind these cherished stories we read our children during the 12 days of Christmas?

Poetic Genealogies

Matthew begins with a long genealogy that travels from Abraham through David and Solomon, arriving at Jesus. The lineage demonstrates that Jesus is the new Messiah, arriving on the scene at the appropriate time. Luke’s genealogy begins with Jesus tracing His line back through Nathan, David, Boaz and finally to Adam in the garden. We learn from Luke that Jesus is the new Adam. In the poetry of genealogy we learn that Jesus is Messiah, that He is our new beginning. But we discover something else as well. In the ancient world, genealogies were spun to showcase the lineage of Caesar, to make manifest that he is the Son of God descended from Heaven. Both Matthew and Luke use the rhetoric of the day to say something different–there is a new ruler and here are His credentials. These were both counter-genealogies announcing the bone fides of Jesus. He is the true Messiah, He is the true beginning of a new era … not Caesar.

Divine Conception

Next, both Matthew and Luke tell the story of the divine conception of Jesus. The Angel Gabriel had several conversations with Joseph, according to Matthew, about the nature of his wife’s pregnancy.  As Luke tells it, Gabriel spoke to Mary directly about the goodness she was gestating within.  We are told that she received these words with an open heart and, I imagine, an awareness that her life had just been set on an irreversible trajectory.

While these stories of God-breathed conception sound novel to our ears, we must re-frame our understanding. Such tales were commonplace in the days of the ancient Mediterranean. You would hear stories like this all the time–about the birth of Caesar. Everyone knew He descended from the gods and was genetically inclined to rule the empire. Now we are told there is Another on the scene … another divine Son with the capacity and mandate to reign. We learn that the birth stories have less to do with the biology of the mother and more to do with the destiny of the child–destined to rule.  Matthew and Luke tell us that Caesar has a challenger for the throne.  Jesus, the true child of God, is destined to rule the Kingdom.

Heavy Titles

Scattered within these birth narratives are many heavy titles. ”King of the Jews” was a title ascribed to Herod the Great, but applied to Jesus. ”Son of God,” “Lord,” “Savior of the world”–all used to speak exclusively of Caesar, the one who descends from the gods and saves the world. He brings the Pax Romana through victory, employing violence to suppress rivals. Included in his peace is an economic policy that rewards the elites and exploits the poor, but keeps the roads open and commerce flowing. When Matthew and Luke call Jesus the Son of God, Messiah, Savior, Lord … they are dancing on the edge of treason. But they are naming a new reality–the light of the world has come, and it is not the emperor seated in Rome, but the babe in the stable. The gospel writers are, in effect, advertizing a better Son of God. Jesus will bring peace through justice and His peace will come through non-violent means. His Kingdom will bring about prosperity for all–even those at the margins and on the underbelly of the economy–and it will have no end.

Once we read these poetic genealogies, divine conception stories loaded with heavy titles we should all be chanting:

Jesus, not Caesar! Jesus, not Caesar! Jesus, not Caesar!

What the stories of Christmas say, then and now, is that peace cannot come through Caesar. The gospel writers wanted us all to see that there is another way to govern the world–peace through justice, not violence. There is another way to administer the Kingdom–through justice, love and goodness. We have been entrusted with very subversive stories that invite us to see differently, believe differently and act differently. The way the world operates now is not the only way it can ever be. Jesus comes as a new kind of President, a different kind of Prime Minister, a better General Secretary of the United Nations and more skilled Managing Director of the International Monetary Fund … with another Way to bring about a lasting peace and an equitable economy for all.

Jesus is the reason for the season … a reason that upends the status quo of the world as we know it. He is the beginning of deep transformation the world over and the savior for all who suffer under current empires and economies. He offers another way forward, a rationale that confronts all we have come to know and believe about the way the world works.

- Jesus is the reason to rethink the status quo of our empires and economies.

- Jesus is the reason to imagine peace and prosperity without war.

- Jesus is the reason to live differently in this season and every other season–

Because He, and not the Caesars of this age, is the Light of the World, the Messiah, the Savior. This is why we sing: Glory to God in the Highest!

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About Kelley:

Kelley Johnson Nikondeha is co-director of Amahoro Africa and international staff member of Community of Faith with her husband Claude. She’s a thinker, connector, advocate, avid reader and mother of two beautiful children. Kelley lives between Arizona and Burundi. She loves handwritten letters, homemade pesto and anything written by Walter Brueggemann.

Image credit: Merry Christmas, by The Meadowbrook blog

Seeking Eve Monday: When Being is Enough

“Being with others is Gloria’s pastime and, I would argue, her calling.”

By Christina Crook
She said, “What I do is the least interesting thing about me.”

I thought, I wish we’d all have guts like that.

There Gloria Iu and I sat talking over sushi in the foyer of CBC Toronto asking each other the question that’s been nagging me for years.

Why is the first question we always ask each other: WHAT DO YOU DO?

Why are we …

DOERS. DOING. DO. DO. DO.

Why is the compulsion to accomplish so central to our culture? So core to our being? So tied to our identity? What about BEING? What about asking people what they LOVE? What they CARE about? What about asking people about their PASSION?

You could say that in a world of out-doing one another, Gloria is a professional BE-ER.

I visited her downtown Toronto apartment, dubbed “the kibbutz,” a few weeks ago for a knit/make stuff get together. There sat seven trendy Toronto chicks knitting and purling, and at the head of the coffee table sat Gloria, holding court.

“I like to hang out with people,” she explains. “I host a knitting club, but I don’t knit. I go to book club, but I don’t read the books.” Being with others is Gloria’s pastime and, I would argue, her calling.

By day, Gloria inputs data. She likes it because of the people, the fact that she can listen to things that interest her and that it gives her space to create outside of work. By night, Gloria is a court jester and full-time friend. She also loves architecture, rearranging furniture, and her collection of ten ergonomically sublime kitchen chairs. Her design aesthetic is: “Asian, Zen, Fun!”

Art-trained at the Ontario School of Art & Design, Iu finished her studies at British Columbia’s Trinity Western University.

“It was never my goal to be an artist,” she says. “I was floundering in art college and one day I passed by a homeless person and thought: ‘There’s more than this.’” She dropped out and headed West to study psychology, because someone told her she shouldn’t enter university undeclared.

After school she worked at a job finding centre in Toronto and, while she was good at it, was finding it stressful. Her dad suggested a job and she thought: “For once I am going to be the obedient daughter” and she applied.

On the brink of the financial crisis and with one dollar in her bank account, Gloria landed the job, promising God her first paycheck. Her prayer at the time was this:

“God, I am a bit of a gong show–I need some help.”

It was the only job she applied for, and after many lay-offs and a two-year hiring freeze, she has maintained her position. It was during that time that she listened to a series on faith and work at her church, Grace Toronto.

Work Ethic

“Those faith and work sermons by Dan (MacDonald) changed my life. They gave me a sense of gratitude. I realized God gave me this job and I should be grateful for it and work hard.”

“Dan said: “THE GRASS IS GREEN ENOUGH.”

Whoever we are. Whatever we do. Wherever we work. However we play.

THE GRASS IS GREEN ENOUGH.

Gloria’s perspective on work is inspiring. Data entry isn’t her dream job, but she cares about the people there.

Volunteer

In her spare time, Gloria volunteers with the Toronto City Mission, hanging out (of course!) with senior high immigrant teens. “It’s hard to engage these kids,” she shares during her lunch hour. “Beyond the trust issue, it’s the technology–they’re all on smartphones, regardless of their socio-economic situation.”

Some people would rather stand in the soup kitchen with a ladle. Sitting alongside strangers is hard, but it’s Gloria’s first choice.

When I first met Gloria she said that what she does is the least interesting thing about her. I would beg to disagree. In a world of compulsive doers, she is a breath of fresh air, and in this–the busiest season of the year–there is no greater reminder than to BE.

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Christmas is less than one week away.

Everywhere we see picture and icons of Jesus–God of the Universe–simply being. Lying, helpless in a manger.

There is only one way we can find ourselves face-to-face with the Christ child.

By BEING. Still.

Turning off the jingles, dimming down the lights, looking fast and hard into the story of the One who came close. The One who invaded human history to hang out with sinners, to remind us to be grateful, to throw open wide our arms and confess to the ears of an infant:

“Dear God, I am a bit of a gong show–I need some help.”

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About Christina:

“Like you, my faith is strengthened by the confession of others. The breath of release that comes when honesty flows and you exhale with the truth that I am not alone.”

Christina recently traded the seaside views of Bowen Island, BC for the banks of Toronto’s Humber River where she, her husband and two young children attend Grace Toronto Church. Her writing has recently appeared in UPPERCASE, Geez and the Literary Review of Canada. She is the founder of SeekingEve.ca and blogs at www.christinacrook.com.

Photo credit: Gloria Iu, by  Stephanie Hung

A Mixed-Culture Girl Goes “Home” This Christmas

“Seeing our families this Christmas involves crossing one ocean and two borders. It involves exchanging currency, bottling toiletries in travel-size vials, applying for a visa and buying gifts from Duty Free.”

By Winnie Lui | Twitter: @INTELsashimi

A meal with noodles, meat, veggies and a drink costs less than CDN$3.

Fresh fish costs about the same price, and you can choose a live one and watch it being halved, squirming for the last seconds of its life, right before your eyes.

Drivers stick to the left side of the road. Pedestrians pause before they cross because here, people yield to cars instead of the other way around.

Returning

It’s winter 2011 and I’m back in the place of my birth–Hong Kong.

When I was born, the area in Hong Kong in which I lived was a center of light industry, booming with textile factories–the kind in which my grandmother worked the night shift. Today, the same area is a forest of shopping malls and office and residential towers.

As a young child, I followed my grandmother to the fresh markets to find just-cut vegetables and choose our pick of chicken or fish to be butchered alive. This winter, I have the joy of reliving those moments as I mince around the wet market floor in my Converse sneakers, experiencing the same sights and sounds from childhood, but from a slightly taller viewpoint.

My husband is with me on this trip. After the visit to the market in the morning, we tunneled through the crowded halls of shopping centres.

Fitting in

My husband and I are both ethnically Chinese and fit in well in the sea of dark-haired heads. He, however, is from mainland China and speaks Mandarin instead of the Hong Kong dialect, Cantonese. I, on the other hand, am raised in Canada by Hong Kong parents; so I speak Cantonese but, culturally, I am still half a foreigner in Hong Kong.

In most of the stores we enter, we are approached by eager sales persons.

“有D乜嘢可以幫您呀?” (“Can I help you with anything?”)

“Sorry, I don’t do Cantonese,” replies my husband. The clerk quickly switches to English, and later changes to Mandarin, which is closer to Cantonese and more comfortable for her.

At a store selling suits, the clerk, my husband and I share a mixed dialogue of two languages and one dialect. That multi-lingual conversation reflects the city of Hong Kong and its mixed heritage of British and Chinese rule. That dialogue also reflects something about me.

Hong Kong and I

Hong Kong was a British colony from the mid-1800s until 1997 when it was ceded back to China. In its politics, economy and lifestyle, Hong Kong has been heavily shaped by the West. You can see this, for example, in its food culture: a typical Hong Kong-style breakfast can include toast, fried eggs and ham with milk tea. In its heritage, Hong Kong is a part of China; however, having been outside of Chinese rule for the better half of the past century, Hong Kong was excluded from the revolutionary cultural and political changes that re-shaped China, resulting in a distinct Hong Kong identity that sets it apart from its native China.

Raised by the British yet not British; from China yet not Chinese. Hong Kong is its own cultural species, as am I.

My own upbringing is a mixed conversation. I was born in Hong Kong and grew up in Canada, but frequently returned to Hong Kong throughout my childhood. After I entered university in Canada, my parents permanently relocated back to Hong Kong, while I later graduated and settled in Vancouver. My family and I cross oceans yearly to see one another.

I also dated and eventually married my now husband, who is from mainland China, bringing yet a third culture into the family.

Christmas across cultures

For my husband and I, seeing our families this Christmas involves crossing one ocean and two borders. It involves exchanging currency, bottling toiletries in travel-size vials, applying for a visa, and buying gifts from Duty Free. It involves changing worlds in less than 24 hours.

On Monday morning of this week, I left Canada. Seven back-to-back movies and three box-tray meals later, I arrived in Hong Kong. Upon landing, my iPhone greeted me with a series of commercial text messages. “Welcome!” my iPhone told me me. “You are now roaming.”

Over the next few weeks, I will be in at least three more Chinese cities. I will be roaming in stores and restaurants where people will assume I am local and then feel confused when I respond slowly or miss the standard protocols.

Someone from a mid-sized city will ask me, “Are you Korean?”

“I’m from Canada,” I’ll say.

“No, you’re not!” she’ll say, squinting at my skin colour.

“I’m from Hong Kong,” I’ll say, trying again.

She will look at me more believably, and politely lie, “Your Mandarin is good.”

This Christmas, I will re-learn the culture of my heritage: practicing Chinese dialogue with those who don’t speak enough English for me to get lazy and stop trying; making dumplings from scratch when the only things I’ve ever done with flour is bake cupcakes and cookies; waking up early to follow the ladies of the house to the markets when normally at that hour I would be checking email while drinking coffee.

I am looking forward to developing my Chinese side and carving yet another face to my mixed-culture identity.

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How about you?

• Do have a mixed-culture experience?
• How have your cultural experiences shaped your identity?
• What are your dreams about crossing or integrating cultures?

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About Winnie:

The wave of Asian immigration in the 1990s brought Winnie to Canada on a little red-mast junk. To fulfill her family’s dream of running a business in Hong Kong and giving the children a Western education, Winnie’s father commuted home to Canada during Christmas and Chinese New Year, and Winnie herself spent her childhood between the two continents and among many different schools and neighbourhoods. Her growing up experience has become a mosaic of cultures, languages, and perspectives. Winnie blogs at intellectualsashimi.com and tweets @intelSASHIMI

Photo credit: ixtlan, Esther Weng

My Christmas Miracle: On Friendship, Faith and Fertility

By Daniela Schwartz | Twitter: @dannyschwartz

Every Christmas I believe for a miracle. Sometimes it’s silly like the year we got an espresso machine. The miracle was the guy working at Starbucks offering me his staff discount, because we could not have afforded it otherwise. It has brought years of joy.

Another year it was a Wii when they were a hot item. Two years ago Disneyland. (That was truly magical). I try to create memories for my family–each Christmas a special memory, so that as time passes, it will not be forgotten.

Last year’s miracle changed my family forever. We welcomed Oliver. The biggest Christmas miracle ever.

My story:

A women’s cycle is on average 28 day. Here’s my CliffsNotes version:

Day One: Your period.

Day 7-14: Sanity Days. No PMS, cramping, bloating or irrational demands.

Day 14: Ovulation

Day 15 – 28: Varying degrees of craziness, moodiness, overheating, overeating and slow gradual transformation to your fat clothes. A.k.a. comfy pants and your husband’s old T-shirt with the grease stain from last month’s chips ‘n dip.

This is the natural course of a woman. OK, I am speaking for myself. Then there comes a time, where you decide to do something productive with these cycles, liiiike … for example, make a baby. When Ryan and I were first married we decided to try for Owen and two weeks later, the bun was in the oven.

Two years after Owen, we decided to add one more child to the mix. I decided I would get pregnant in August, so the baby could be born in the spring, I’d then have time to de-fat for summer and BAM I’d be lounging on the beach, my babe napping beside me–Ryan and Owen chasing each other around in the distance.

August passed. Negative. Oh, well, late spring is good too. Negative. Summer? Negative. Fall? Winter? Negative.

Two years passed.

Here ‘s what the cycle of a women with infertility looks like:

Day 25: Obsessing over every twinge your body makes. Am I nauseous? I feel sick, yes I am going to throw up! Oh joy, could this be it? My boobs? Definitely sore. And tired? Yes, exhausted. Thank God for those early response tests. Negative. OK, it’s too early.

Day 26: Negative. Still too early. Definitely feeling something, though.

Day 26 evening: Negative. Darn it. I should have waited til the morning; that’s when there’s the most hormones.

Day 27: Racing back to the house with pregnancy test still holding first morning urine. Negative. It’s OK. Tomorrow it will show up.

Day 28: I’m holding the pregnancy test up to the light. Maybe the line is so faint I can’t see it? (I did that a lot.)

Day 1: Oh.

Day 15: Cleansing breath. Maybe …

I was so glad the day I found pregnancy tests could be purchased in bulk online, since store-bought ones were costing a fortune. I literally ordered a hundred at a time. I think I felt that if I took enough tests, I could somehow stop my period from coming.

At year three we sought help at a fertility clinic. Tests, tests and more tests. Only to discover that Ryan and I had unexplained infertility. Factoring our age and the time we had gone without conceiving without medical intervention, our chances were five percent. Awesome. We began to discuss treatments and decided to try IUI’s and drugs. Night sweats, hormone-induced rages, awkward fertility treatment with a nurse (shouldn’t Ryan be here?) produced a Negative.

My twin sister became pregnant. My best friend became pregnant. I went for another IUI. Negative.

There was I moment with I was standing with my sister and friend in my kitchen one day, trying not to stare at their swollen bellies and I felt my uterus physically RECOIL. It took my breath away and I wanted to lay down and go to sleep forever.

Let’s pause here for a moment. Please don’t think that for one moment I wasn’t grateful for my Owen. I treasure that boy. This was something I was dealing with on the sidelines of being his mom.

We stopped our fertility treatments. We went back once to explore in vitro,  but because we had Owen already,  we decided we would use the money to adopt eventually. At that visit we discovered that due to time and increasing age, our chances were now 1.7 percent.

It had been 3.5 years. Every time I sat in church, I cried. Every time someone near to me conceived, I’d smile, shut down my heart so I could get through the next five minutes without screaming, WHY???? WHY???? And then say, I’m so happy for you. (If you are one those friends, I’m sorry.)

What changed?

We had been back to church for about a year, mostly to have Owen there. I had a wall around me, because I felt so fragile and broken in my disappointment and hurt. One month, my very close girlfriend told me she was expecting. For some reason I got it in my head, This is it. This is God’s timing for me. We were meant to have babies together and to boot, it’s Christmas! God knows how much I love Christmas. It is His perfect timing. I had been praying for this. I was smug in my confidence of knowing God’s will for my life.

Day 1: I felt the color leave my face. Ryan must have taken Owen to school that day. I was home by myself getting ready for work  and listening to music. Numb. “A Bridge Over Trouble Water” came on. It was being sung by a Christian singer. These words stopped me:

“Your time has come to shine

All your dreams are on their way.”

God speaks to us in so many different ways. In that moment I knew God knew my heart. There were a lot of tears that day. I gave my burden to Him (although for the next year and half, I tried to take it back a few times.)

I turned my heart back to God that day.  I took my eyes off what I didn’t have and put them on Him.

I went on birth control eventually to help my hormones. They were a mess from the fertility treatments and it felt good to close the door, to know that I did not have to have Day 1 that month. When a close friend (let’s call her Linda) approached me one day and asked if I would go off the pill and try again, I looked at her like she was insane. If she knew what she was asking me, she would not be asking me this. I was doing well, and I did not want to reopen that door.  She committed to praying for me for three months. I loved and trusted her, so I committed to having unprotected whoopy with my husband for three months.

Negative.

Negative.

Negative.

I did not hop back on the pill once the three months had passed. Partly cause I did not get to my doctor’s; partly because I knew Linda was still believing. At month four my hormones were raging and I told her I was done. I was turning into a hormonal lunatic. She was disappointed, but understood.

Day 29. No Day 1? Weird. I went to Walmart and bought the cheapest test possible. Peed on it and walked straight to the trash to chuck it. Hold the phone. What’s that? I took a picture and sent it to my friend.

“Is that two lines?”

I called Ryan and he said: “Why did you buy the cheapest test?” (To date, Ryan has NO idea just how many tests I took over the years and how much it cost.)

Please don’t be an illusion, I prayed. Please don’t let this be a mental break down. I drove straight from Walmart to my girlfriend’s. I needed an extra set of eyes. I went straight to her toilet. Instantly there were two bright pink lines. I flew out of the bathroom: *JOY*  “It’s positive! It’s positive!!!” My friend, her friend who I had never met and I started jumping up and down, hugging and shouting like lunatics.

I called my husband. Speechless.

Then I called Linda.

Me: “You don’t have to pray for me to get pregnant anymore.”

Linda: “Why?”

Me (giant lump in my throat):  “’Cause I’m pregnant.”

Linda cried for two days.

December 18th, 2010.

I’m in labour, and Oh-Martha-Something-Stewart it hurts. We are driving to the hospital and it starts to snow. In between the waves of contractions I know this is a gift from God. He knows how much I love the snow. This is God’s perfect timing. I soak in the sereneness of the star-kissed night, soft white flakes covering the earth in a blanket of white brilliance.

_______________________

One week before Christmas we welcomed Oliver. When I saw him, he took my breath away. When I saw his big brother holding him, it stopped my heart.

“Your time has come to shine

All your dreams are on their way.”

When God told me He knew my dreams, He did not answer MY dreams right away. He worked in my life, fixing things that needed fixing; healing where healing was needed. When I gave Him back my life, God transformed it and then He topped it off with Oliver.

He never forgot.

Linda and Oliver just recently.

For those of you who have a friend walking through infertility, here are four things never to say to her. EVER:

1. Stop trying so hard.
2. Stop thinking about it so much.
3. When you stop trying, it will happen. It happened to my friend.
4. If you decide to adopt, you’ll get pregnant. That happened to so and so.

[Insert applause from infertile women.)

Here's what you can say to her:

I am sorry you are here. It sucks. Big time.  You are doing everything right. Have faith and if you don’t right now, I have enough for you.

[Insert tears and hugs.]

“God answers in three ways: He says yes and gives you what you want, He says no and gives you something better and He says wait and gives you the best.”

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My dear SheLoves sisters, I’d love to hear your thoughts:

• Do you have a Christmas miracle?
• How has God met you in a special way at Christmas?
• Do you have an experience with infertility?
• Or a friend who has believed for you when you stopped having faith?

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About Daniela:
Daniela is stepping into the role of stay-at-home mom. She loves Jesus, her husband and kids and jumps feet first into opportunities to serve in her community. Daniela lives by this statement, “Preach the gospel always, use words when necessary.” She loves to live life big and laughs a lot. She blogs with her twin sister Trinity at Lime in the coconuts.

TGIF: On Plastic Trees, Fruitcake and Mothers Who Made Us Wear Poofy Dresses

Christmas isn’t a Hallmark card with smiling gingerbread men and festive peppermint sticks.

by Tina Francis | Twitter: @teenbug
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