I Heard the Bells

Oh, what a day.

Fear, excitement, panic, hope, dread...the list goes on and on and on.  Sitting at my computer (at work...shhh) I felt it all rise up within me.  I became suddenly overwhelmed.  How on earth will we go on after this election day?  No one can deny that this campaign process has incited and ignited passion within people.  And not just good passion.  No.  Anger...hatred...vitriol...

I wondered how our nation could move on after all this.  Surely we are more divided than ever before.

Except -

As I let my mind spiral downward a song came on my Dave Barnes (Holiday) Pandora station.  (Yes.  Holiday.  Judge not.)  As I listened I felt tears come to my eyes and peace wash over me.  The carol was a song based on a poem written by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow on Christmas Day, 1863.

Folks, 1863 was the middle of the American Civil War.  A time when our nation was more divided than ever before, a time in which it seemed we could only splinter apart.  Longfellow, the widowed father of six children, had recently learned his oldest child had been severely injured in the war.  So he did what the artists and dreamers do: He put his pain and hope on paper.

I think it applies now, just as surely as then.

Here is his poem (emphasis mine):

I heard the bells on Christmas Day
Their old, familiar carols play,
And wild and sweet
The words repeat
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

And thought how, as the day had come,
The belfries of all Christendom
Had rolled along
The unbroken song
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

Till, ringing, singing on its way,
The world revolved from night to day,
A voice, a chime,
A chant sublime
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

Then from each black, accursed mouth
The cannon thundered in the South,
And with the sound
The carols drowned
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

It was as if an earthquake rent
The hearth-stones of a continent,
And made forlorn
The households born
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

And in despair I bowed my head;
"There is no peace on earth," I said:
"For hate is strong,
And mocks the song
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!"

Then pealed the bells more loud and deep:
"God is not dead; nor doth he sleep!
The Wrong shall fail,
The Right prevail,
With peace on earth, good-will to men!"

On Fear

When I was young I made the Powers-That-Be turn on the lights inside the Haunted Mansion.

I know.  Cool, right?

Except it was my terror that made them do it.  Memory is faulty, and I was very, very, very young, so I don't remember much about it.  Here is what I can recall:

Sitting on someone's shoulders (my mind says my Grandpa's?  But that seems crazy....So maybe an uncle?) as we walked from the elevator to the Doom Buggies, clutching at his forehead in horror as I sobbed, "Turn on the lights!  Make them turn on the lights!" over and over and over again until suddenly the lights flickered on.  I remember my Grandpa saying, "Looks like you're in luck."  And I remember the relief.  That's it. I don't know if we all left the Haunted Mansion or if it was just a parent and me.

Just terror, searching for something to ground me to reality (in this case the feel of skin beneath my fingertips), and then relief.

A few years later I made them stop Star Tours mid-ride.  It was the same sort of thing, although this time just my mom and I left the ride, and I definitely recall that walk back to meet up with the rest of the family.

We've all been there, guys.  Don't deny it  (Love you, Mama!) 

I'm not bragging at the power I apparently hold over Disney ride operators.  (Not much, I mean.)  No, my point is this:  My fear is big, and loud, and demands to be heard.

Now, I have mixed feelings about fear.  I mean, if you look over the history of our species, fear has been a good thing.  Fear keeps you from stepping too close to the edge of a high cliff.  Fear redirects your steps when you hear a roar from out in the darkness, assuredly saving you from ending up in the belly of some great beast.

Or, if you're a small girl with a vivid imagination...

And impeccable fashion sense, clearly.

...Who has against her better judgement entered a Haunted Mansion, been herded into a secret elevator and then told - essentially - the only way out is to follow the choice of a hanging skeleton...

...Been plunged into a darkness filled by screaming people...

...And then suddenly finds herself in a dark hallway with pictures that only prove the house is, indeed, haunted...

It's waaaaay scarier with the lights out, folks.

Well...Fear steps up to the plate.  Fear reminds you there are GHOSTS INSIDE.

Fear is there to warn you when something may hurt you.

There are many who will tell you that fear is a liar.  I disagree.  I just think fear is really good at its job.  Seriously, Employee of the Month, time after time after time.  And let's be very real here - fear is good at its job because there is no way to be a human being and not be hurt.

One of my favorite quotes from Welcome to Night Vale

Fear has had a lot of practice.  Fear has been hardwired into our DNA as surely as joy, sorrow, delight, or anger have.  Fear may go even deeper, existing on the same level as thirst, hunger, the need to breathe.  Personally, I believe those who say they have no fear are either lying or foolish - or both.


Fear is not the voice to be shut up and ignored!  Fear is that friend who has your best interests at heart but just never quite hits the mark.  You know the one.  Maybe the Christmas gift is never right, but is given with a good spirit.

Maybe words are awkwardly phrased and the hug too tight/loose/long/whatever - but you can tell the intention is there.

Fear isn't out to get us, it's out to help us.  So instead of ignoring its voice, we instead need to turn and face it and say, "I hear you, fear, and you're not in charge here."

Boom.

That's it.  It is as simple and as difficult as that.

So whether I'm walking the sinister hallway toward the Doom Buggies and am feeling that familiar lick of terror along my spine (every time, guys), or I'm finally telling people that yeah, my agent has put the pitch out to a few editors and some have asked to read the complete manuscript - fear doesn't get to keep me from doing something I know is good.

Remember that time I said guilt could hand me the roadmap but didn't get to come along for the ride?  (No?  Let's change that.  Check it out here.)   It's kind of like that, except that fear has a seat in the car.  The backseat...and fear is an avid backseat driver.

Ideally fear will be passed out, though...just sleeping the drive away.

I just don't have to follow its direction.

Another winner from WTNV

Let's Talk About Guilt, Baby

I've been intending to post for...oh, about 2 weeks. I've had great experiences to draw on, too. Good things are happening with my writing. I just spent a long weekend at a conference in New Orleans. I'm currently in Nashville visiting my sister and her family.

Doin' the Nashville hipster photo pose

So, so much.

I actually wrote a little something about NOLA, but couldn't shake the feeling that it was off.  Not bad, but not the right post at the right time.

But really, how cool is NOLA?  I will write about it soon.  Promise.

And then - well, then something relatively minor happened and I became afraid that I had hurt someone I love dearly. Suddenly I felt guilty. Oh, so guilty.

You know the feeling: pressure in your chest, churning in your stomach, the inability to focus on anything else for long...that horrible assurance that you are truly the worst friend/daughter/sister/HUMAN in the history of the world.

You know. Guilt.

It's a crappy feeling.

However, I've learned Guilt is like any other uncomfortable feeling: it's kind of hinged in the middle.

Guilt lets us know when we've taken a misstep. It's our alert for when we act in ways that are incongruous with who we are. It lets us know when we are being selfish, careless, self-centered -- when we are in danger of wandering far and away from our Truth.

To understate it, Guilt can serve us well.

But Guilt has a much more sinister side. It often overstays its welcome.  It can keep us down. It can whisper dark lies in our ear, keeping us away from Good. It can call over its big brother, Shame, and convince us that we are not worthy.

To understate it, Guilt can serve us poorly.

There are some who would claim I feel guilt because of my religion, my faith. They state that I have been conditioned to feel this way anytime I step outside the accepted rules of the establishment. Keep 'em down, keep 'em in line.

I don't agree. In fact, to those who say my misguided guilt is put upon me by my church, I kindly and gently call BS.

Sure, sometimes people suck, and due to suckiness will try to impose harmful rules on us. But that's a people problem, not a God problem.

You see, my God straight up said that I don't need to be kept downtrodden by Guilt.
"It is finished."

That's what He said.
"It is finished."

Hanging on the cross, enduring the worst humanity could offer, being mocked and scorned for His sacrifice.

"It is finished."

There is no need to keep opening up the door to the past. No need to pick off the scab. No need to stay in the gutter of our mistakes. We are not too dirty, too broken, too ANYTHING to move on. We deserve forgiveness. We deserve love.

It is finished.

Thank you, Jon Acuff.  And Pinterest, for the photo.

So I know that when Guilt comes to visit, bringing along any of his family members - Shame, Fear, Despair - I can say hello, hear the lesson, and then let him know he is not welcome.

Guilt can drop off the road map, but he does not get to come on the journey back to myself.

Photo from crazytraveler.com

And that is totally okay.