Happiness, I’ve decided, is a lie. It’s an unachievable goal. And let’s say, for argument’s sake, it is achievable. Why pursue something so stupidly fleeting?
I’ve made a choice in my life and in my heart lately, and it has changed everything about my everyday.
Even when I thought I wasn’t I was clearly pursuing happiness. Chasing after happiness. Ya know what I never caught? (I bet you do). Happiness. What a waste of time.
So peace. Peace sits in my heart and holds on tight and doesn’t let go. Even when fear is clutching at me peace is wrapped around me like a shield.
Happiness be damned. I’m embracing peace. Peace is lasting. With it comes an overwhelming wholeness. I’m over happiness. Come what may.
It’s probably nothing. It’s usually nothing. It’s always nothing.
Something is happening. In my heart. In my soul. Something is happening. I can feel it. I can feel it pulsing. Something in me is stirring in me in a palpable way. Everything in me is ready to scream, to run, to skip, to move. But I don’t know to what end, only that I can feel it. Only that it’s strong. Only that I won’t be able to contain it much longer, and I don’t want to waste it on something frivolous, when something remarkable may be coming. That isn’t to say I’m remarkable, please, understand me on this. I’m not. But something big is coming, that I may not even be a part of. I only know that it’s coming.
Something in my heart, in my spirit is bouncing, like Tigger through Rabbit’s vegetable patch. Or maybe more like Tigger after he’s promised to never bounce again. My spirit is begging to move, but it has no direction. Like wandering around a gorse bush following my own footsteps over and over. In motion, but never moving. I can feel it from the middle of my chest down through my arms, stopping short at my wrists. About to regenerate, but holding the energy back in my clenched fists. Waiting. Beating. Pulsing for just the right moment.
“It was an empty, sleepy, country station and there was hardly anyone on the platform except themselves. Suddenly Lucy gave a sharp little cry, like someone who has been stung by a wasp.
‘What’s up, Lu?’ said Edmund — and then suddenly broke off and made a noise like ‘Ow!’
‘What on earth –‘ began Peter, and then he too suddenly changed what he had been going to say. Instead, he said, ‘Sudan, let go! What are you doing? Where are you dragging me to?’
‘I’m not touching you,’ said Susan. ‘Someone is pulling me. Oh–Oh–oh–stop it!’
Everyone noticed that all the others’ faces had gone very white.
‘I felt just the same,’ said Edmund in a breathless voice. ‘As if I were being dragged along. A most frightful pulling — ugh! it’s beginning again.’
‘Me too,’ said Lucy. ‘Oh, I can’t bear it.’
‘Look sharp!’ shouted Edmund. ‘All catch hands and keep together. This is magic–I can tell by the feeling. Quick!'”
-Prince Caspian.
(this is a Justin Gerardot cameo)*
*this is all Justin had to say.
It’s important to know, straight off, that I love Christmas. Sacred and secular. I love Christmas. It stirs in my soul from the moment Halloween ends until well into January. I live alone, and my cat and I are the only ones who will ever see the lights tied to a tiny tree and spreading around my living room. We’re the only ones who take joy in the gold tinsel garland over our archway into the kitchen, and I think I’m the only one who truly takes joy in it. She feels taunted.
It’s winter in general. While the rest of the northern hemisphere slips into a quiet depression, I come to life. Each snowflake touching my cheek or window brings back a refreshing restart. Each whiff of icy chill in the air fills my lungs for rejuvenation. It always has.
As I’ve gotten older though, something about winter and Christmas has finally started to connect. Christmas carols and hymns have always been a part of the fun for me. When I was small they were the best thing to sing in church because I knew the words. Now they pull at me. They rip into me. Yesterday in service they made in cry in a way they never have before. I think they finally scratched into my understanding. I finally get it. And on a spiritual front they hit me, but secular songs are touching me too.
Sinners, wrung with true repentance,
Doomed for guilt to endless pains,
Justice now revokes the sentence,
Mercy calls you—break your chains:
Come and worship, come and worship
Worship Christ, the newborn King.
Though an infant now we view him,
He shall fill his Father’s throne,
Gather all the nations to him;
Every knee shall then bow down:
God rest you merry, Gentlemen,
Let nothing you dismay,
For Jesus Christ our Savior
Was born upon this Day.
To save poor souls from Satan’s power,
Which long time had gone astray.
Which brings tidings of comfort and joy.
The holly and the ivy, when they are both full grown,
Of all the trees that are in the wood, the holly bears the crown.
…
The holly bears a bark as bitter as any gall,
And Mary bore sweet Jesus Christ for to redeem us all.
In the bleak mid-winter
Frosty wind made moan,
Earth stood hard as iron,
Water like a stone;
Snow had fallen, snow on snow,
Snow on snow,
In the bleak mid-winter
Long ago.
What can I give Him,
Poor as I am?
If I were a shepherd
I would bring a lamb,
If I were a wise man
I would do my part,
Yet what I can I give Him,
Give my heart
The hope that has slumbered for 2000 years,
the promise that silenced 1000 fears.
A faith that can hobble an ocean of tears,
the peace of Christmas Day.
The branch that bears the bright holly,
the dove that rests in yonder tree.
The light that shines for all to see,
the peace of Christmas Day.
Add all the grief that people may bear,
total the strife, the troubles and care.
Put them in columns and leave them right there,
the peace of Christmas Day.
I need to be honest with you guys. I feel like in a big way I’ve been lying to you all, and it’s time for me to come clean. I’m sorry about all of this, but please forgive me.
*Deep Breath*
I think I have stronger feels about Chronicles of Narnia than I do about Harry Potter. Now, please, hold on. Stay with me. I was raised on the Chronicles of Narnia. Maybe it’s not that my feels are stronger. Maybe it’s this. Maybe in the summer and in the winter I’m in love with Narnia. And maybe in the spring and the autumn I’m in love with Hogwarts.
Because I can’t stop thinking about Narnia lately. It’s happened with Hogwarts before, but not in the winter. In the winter I want to be surrounded by fauns and lampposts and old professors. In the summer I want it too. And I want ships and adventures and handsome princes.
In the autumn I want pumpkin juice and knitting that takes care of itself and wooden things and wands. In the spring I want all of that and to stave off evil one more year.
The truth is, though, the hard truth is that when it comes down to it I feel stronger emotional connections to Lucy and Edmund, particularly Edmund, than I ever do to Harry, Ron, or Hermione. Or even Snape. Don’t get me wrong here, because I have strong feels, and as I get old the feels get stronger. But in my head Harry Potter is this puzzle I’m still discovering new pieces too. But Narnia is the beating of my heart. With each pulse my heart murmurs “Aslan is not a tame lion.” With each breath I sigh “Even a traitor may mend.” Each pass in front of the mirror I blink “I will say the spell. I don’t care!”
The mystery of Potter plays at my brain, but the connection and time I’ve spent growing with Narnia invades my thoughts. Daily.
Raise your children on good, strong, well-written books. Always.
A Broad Abroad 