Today I packed away the last few remnants of the holiday.  Christmas is over with all its parties, presents, lights, decorations and high caloric, coma-inducing food.  And, frankly, I could not be more relieved.  That's not a comment on Christmas, per se, but more on my need for a return to normalcy.  

Besides, this year never really felt like Christmas to me.  In fact, I would have been fine without a tree or any decorations. 

That is not like me.  

I love my Christmas house.  I love the smell of fresh pine needles, the warmth Christmas decorations add to our home, the external reminders something BIG is happening.  But this year was all 'bah humbug'!

I usually participate in some form of Advent observance and enjoy focusing my attention on the waiting.  The anticipation of  hope dawning on a weary world. But I never established a healthy groove.  I got carried along with the activity and programs and found myself easily annoyed with this disturbance in the calendar.   I lost my alone time when the kids entered winter break, my diet was horrendous and the shorter days gave me a significant case of the blues.   That is not a formula for Christmas joy.  

So now I enter the New Year without living into the excitement of anticipation or the wonder of the incarnation. Bummer.   

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Not only did this negatively affect my Christmas spirit, it also generated a total funk around my usual New Year's excitement.  I'm a sucker for new beginnings and ceremonial landmarks but this year it just wasn't coming together.  

No sense of where God was leading me in 2014.  No path. No verse.  No word.  Just silence.  Of course, there's nothing innately spiritual about proclaiming a new beginning on January 1.  I mean, the most dramatic changes often happen in the course of our ordinary lives, but I have come to enjoy this discipline in my life and was disappointed in its absence this year.  

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I tried out a couple of ideas to see if any of them resonated with me.  I knew God was inviting me into a different kind of prayer practice, but still I had no sense of a theme or focus for the year.  I read of someone else's word and I really, really liked it.  I mean, there's no saying two people can't focus on the same thing for a year, right? Unfortunately, it wasn't the word God had for me.  

On January 2 I sat down to pray and observed that I felt particularly happy; excited about what was ahead.  I had no idea what that might be, but I had a sense of anticipation.  

In an early December meeting with my Spiritual Director, I sensed God inviting me into a season of active waiting.  Waiting with a sense of hope and joy and expectancy.  Not waiting to act, but waiting for the fullness of what God has.  Not forcing my agenda or manipulating circumstances, but living fully into whatever God puts in front of me.  

And there it was...a year of Advent!  I don't actually have the word or a particular verse, but I am confident God is inviting me into a season of  expectant waiting.  The kind of waiting that Mary understood...or, more accurately--didn't understand.  Saying 'yes' to crazy things. Making preparations for the fruition of God's plan regardless of how people perceive me and whether or not it makes sense.  A year of hope and curiosity and wonder.  A year of questions and disappointment and abrupt changes of direction.  

Perhaps that's what I'll call it.  My year of Advent.  Makes sense.  I'm a very slow learner and I often require more time to grasp things than your average person.  So God is giving me my own remedial course.  How very thoughtful.  

Or, maybe, its not my word for the year.  Maybe its just for this next season--until God moves me to the next thing--however long that may be.  This really is new.  

I should probably wrap it up.  Things are getting crazy!  I'm winging it and there's no telling what could happen!  

I'll keep you posted.  

Last week I was talking with an acquaintance.  We are both mothers of Seniors and she commented that she just wanted her son to have a happy life.  I disagreed.  I let her know that I had much higher aspirations than happiness for my son (I'm nothing if not masochistically pious).  I went on to describe that I wanted him to thrive in both difficulty and success and to follow God wholeheartedly and to have the highest character and integrity.  

Dang, I'm spiritual!  

I've long feared that experiencing happiness made me selfish.  But I read this today:

Seize life! Eat bread with gusto,
Drink wine with a robust heart.
Oh yes—God takes pleasure in your pleasure!
Dress festively every morning.
Don’t skimp on colors and scarves.
Relish life with the spouse you love
Each and every day of your precarious life.
Each day is God’s gift. It’s all you get in exchange
For the hard work of staying alive.
Make the most of each one!
Whatever turns up, grab it and do it. And heartily!
Ecc. 9:7-9 (MSG)

Is it possible I've missed something?  Does God really enjoy it when I'm happy?  Trust me, I've analyzed this one quite thoroughly.  I am convinced that God's end goal for me is not happiness.  But does that make the converse true.  Is his end goal for me to be unhappy?  I think not. 

It's okay if you're way ahead of me on this one.  But bear with me as I process on paper.  

From the early days of my faith I've been hearing about the difference between happiness and joy.  Joy being the superior experience.  Frankly, I'm still a bit confused by the distinction at an emotional level, but I'm happy to spiritualize my happiness by calling it joy.  

In my twisted mind, I formed a connection between joy and suffering (see James 1).   The spiritual virtue of joy became the kind of happiness you had when life was falling apart.  So...obviously I would be more spiritual when my life was falling apart.  Do see how twisted I am?  

But what if God finds pleasure in my happiness? Even the fleeting happiness of temporal realities.  If that's true, I gave God a lot of pleasure this week.  

On Sunday I found myself nearly bursting with happiness.  I was biking home from the ocean with Caleb and we were discussing the amazing day we'd had.  I started it with a walk to the beach with Richard, then to church, lunch with friends, standup paddle boarding on the ocean, biking from our house to the lighthouse where about 7500 people were watching the best surfers in the world.  The weather was perfect, my family was happy, and my heart was full.  Later that night we headed to UC Berkeley with 40 college students to hear a brilliant follower of Jesus talk about how to live out our faith more responsibly.  

I felt guilty for so much happiness even as I thanked God over and over.  So undeserved.  So abundant.  So uniquely kind.  And something I don't take for granted.  As a woman who struggles with depression, I know that on any given day I could be experiencing these same circumstances and yet be unable to enjoy them.  

So what does this mean?  Here are a couple of thoughts:
1.  Yes, it's good to be able to give thanks in difficulty.  To experience joy in the midst of suffering.  But it is holy and right to fully enter into moments of happiness when they occur--because they are fleeting and precious and gifts from God.

2. And, since happiness is not the central value of the Christian life, we have to avoid making it such.  

3.  Lastly, we must recognize that fully entering into happiness means that future pain at its loss may be great.
“The pain I feel now is the happiness I had before. That's the deal.” C.S. Lewis