Lent Time

Lent time

by Mary Allgier

BCC Leadership Team

It’s almost Ash Wednesday, you know what that means? McDonald’s Filet O’ Fish returns.

Okay, yes, but it means Lent will have officially started and many of us will be giving something up.

Many choose chocolate, or some other food item. Some try to give up or limit technology or anything they think they use too much.

For me, Lent is a time to become a better person. What keeps me from God? What do I need to work on?

Last year I gave up swearing (Not afraid to admit I can be a potty mouth). It was good, but two years ago I decided to give up complaining. I realized after a day I didn’t know how to have a conversation without airing some sort of grievance. It’s too cold! It’s too early! I’m so hungry! My C-Club pizza is SOGGY (Yes. That happened).

So I tried to just put a positive spin on all my complaints.

At least I have food to eat. I have to get up early to go to school, but many people don’t get that chance. At least the snow is pretty.

And I think that’s my favorite thing I’ve ever done for Lent. I think I’ll do it again this year (along with Strawberry Pop tarts… seriously, it’s a problem) and I encourage you to join me. Instead of whining about what we don’t have or what we have to do, let’s try and focus on how blessed we are!

Here are some other idea too  http://www.examiner.com/article/ten-innovative-things-to-give-up-for-lent

A Quick Note on the Psalms

 “The Beloved Waiting in the Heart of Darkness” Part III

A Quick Note on the Psalms

by Kaitlyn Willy, Chaplain’s Apprentice

First of all, thank you to everyone who sent me supportive emails and texts after my last blog. I am still processing my grief. I appreciate continued prayers.

I wanted to talk about one more thing that happened at my retreat, a tool that I believe many of us forget about when it comes to praying through darkness: the psalms.

During my first Echo Summer, before I came to Butler, I took a class on the Psalms. Ever since, I have loved them. And really, why shouldn’t we love the psalms? They are the prayer, not only of Christians, but of our Jewish brothers and sisters as well. Jesus himself was taught and prayed the Psalms. If they’re good enough for Christ, they’re good enough for me.

Throughout the retreat, we kept coming back to the psalms. We talked about how the psalms can give words to our emotions. There are so many about so many different things. There are psalms of lament and psalms of praise. Some end happily, some are just angry all the way through. Our director of formation reminded us that when praying a psalm of lament, it’s always good to pair it with a psalm of hope. Or, you can do one that covers both. My personal favorites are 23 and 42. Then, rarely, when I’m really angry and refuse to be consoled, I go to 77.

Since the early church, it has been a tradition to sing the psalms daily. Monks used to have to memorize the psalter before they were allowed to officially join the monastery. St. Augustine says: “Singing is for the one who loves.” The Psalms were the most common songs of the early church and Augustine wrote hundreds of commentaries on them. I’m not certain, but I think that the only thing in scripture with more commentaries than the psalms is the Lord’s Prayer.

So, my invitation to you is to open up your Bible to the Psalms and give them a try. They’re good consolation in times of distress.

He waits in the Heart of Darkness

“The Beloved Waiting in the Heart of Darkness” Part II

He waits in the heart of darkness

by Kaitlyn Willy, Chaplain’s Apprentice

As I mentioned in my blog yesterday, the theme for the retreat that I just went on was “The Beloved Waiting in the Heart of Darkness.”

One of the things that occurred to me on this retreat was that if I take the beloved to be Christ, then Christ waits for me in the heart of the darkness. He doesn’t wait on the outskirts, he waits in the center of it. In order to get to him, I have to go through the dark and then he will help me through to the other side.

This revelation was truly a grace to me. My retreat director could not have chosen a better time to give me this piece of wisdom. I need it right now. I woke up this morning to find out that one of my dearest friends from high school had passed away. I haven’t processed the emotions from this yet; it’s only been a couple hours since I found out and right now, I am just trying to put one foot in front of the other. I don’t know yet how I feel, other than the obvious answer of sadness. I don’t know what I’m going to do, or how I am going to find consolation in this. What I do know, I know from experience. The sadness I feel now is nothing compared to the darkness that I might face in the next few days as I slowly come to know the reality of Jessica’s death. Thanks to this retreat, I also know this: I cannot sit on the outskirts of grief and avoid dealing with my emotions if I expect Christ to be with me. He is waiting for me in the heart of that darkness, and I will have to go there to find him. As much as I would like to just bury myself in my work and avoid thinking about it, I can’t. I have to go there.

During the retreat, it hit me that this is like the Paschal mystery. When we’re on the outskirts of the dark, it’s like Holy Thursday in the Garden of Gethsemane. It’s like when the soldiers came and took Christ. We’re scared, we’re sad, we’re confused. Darkness is threatening to overcome us. We want to run, like Peter ran when he denied knowing Christ. But the thing is, we can’t run if we want to get to the Resurrection. Only through the Passion can we come to the Resurrection.

In one of the texts I’m reading for comps (Athanasius’ On the  Incarnation) I was struck by a simple line, something that any kindergartener would think was obvious. But this statement must not have been too obvious, because Athanasius bothered to say it and, let’s be honest, paper and ink was not cheap back then (really, papyrus and ink). The line was this: “Death must precede resurrection.”

I think this is a fact that we all too often want to overlook. I would like the resurrection without the passion, thank you very much. I’ve seen a crucifix. The passion doesn’t look too fun. I would like to avoid that part, just like I would like to avoid recognizing the reality of grief. But consolation cannot come from avoidance. That’s not healthy. We have to go into the heart of darkness, where Christ, the Beloved, is waiting. He will bring us out the other side.

So, friends, have hope. Do not be afraid to know the dark. Instead, fear the unlived life—the one that is avoided by living in fear. And know that for every Good Friday, there is always an Easter Sunday. As my favorite poet, Wendell Berry, says: “Practice Resurrection.”

Please pray for Jessica and her family and friends. And friends, please know that whenever you feel alone in the darkness, Fr. Jeff and I are here and we will always be willing to sit with you and be with you. You are never alone.

The Joy of Waiting

The Beloved Waiting in the Heart of Darkness, Retreat Reflections part 1:

“The Joy of Waiting”

Kaitlyn Willy, Chaplain’s Apprentice

Last week, as many of you know, I was away on retreat for five days. It was a retreat with Echo (my graduate program) and in packing and preparing for the retreat, I was much more focused on the idea that I would soon see my friends than I was on spending five days with Christ. I am embarrassed, as a campus minister, to admit that. Yet, as I have spoken with my students so many times, friendship is in itself a form of prayer. Everyone in Echo is close, and it had been since August that I had seen my fellow Echo Apprentices, my dear friends. Perhaps it is fitting, given my attitude, that when my community (Pat, Amy, and Joe) was almost all the way to the retreat center, a four-hour drive for us, we started receiving text messages from our friends that their flight into South Bend was delayed.

We arrived at the retreat center thinking that perhaps our friends would be there later that night. As time passed and the plane was still not leaving, we all realized it was not going to happen. Instead, my community would wait with the Associate Director of Echo, Luke, and hang out at the retreat center and the retreat would start the next afternoon, when our friends would finally arrive. While twenty other Echo apprentices were stuck in the airport for almost an entire day (and later, stuck at a shabby hotel where Delta had put them up), my community and I were forced to entertain ourselves. Patrick, Amy, and I played soccer in the dining hall (or, more accurately, half-heartedly kicked the soccer ball back and forth) for an hour and then, joined by Joe and Luke, we ate pizza as a community. We were not in the highest spirits—we were waiting.

After dinner, we managed to raise our spirits a little. I confessed I had never played pool, so the men decided I needed to learn. Patrick and Luke patiently taught me. While I was frustrated at first, they coaxed me into having fun. We managed to enjoy ourselves and lose track of the time amid our laughter at my epically poor pool skills—all the while anticipating our friends’ arrival the next day. We tried to come up with stories to tell them when they arrived and, through the glory of technology, kept up with where they were and what they were up to, even though we were still apart.

It is interesting, given this incident at the beginning, that the theme chosen for our retreat was “The Beloved Waiting in the Heart of Darkness.” We spent a lot of time waiting that first night, waiting to hear if our friends would come. Once we knew they weren’t, we were waiting for the morning when they would be there and the retreat could begin in earnest. All the while, we reminded ourselves that we were not alone—we could wait together and in our companionship, find consolation for missing our dear friends.

I think that one of the great things about this retreat theme was that it was ambiguous—we weren’t really sure what or who the beloved is. Perhaps I am the beloved one, the beloved of God who is waiting amidst the darkness of my life—waiting for God, waiting for love, for hope, for light. Perhaps Christ himself is the beloved and he waits for me in the darkness. Or, perhaps it is the waiting itself that is beloved.

During one of the talks during the retreat, the last of these was suggested by our formation director, Jan. What if it is the waiting itself that is beloved? She told us a story she had heard about a grandmother. This grandmother was well loved by her children, grandchildren, and great grandchildren. On one of her birthdays, they threw her a surprise party. When the party came around and the grandmother walked in and they surprised her, she was disappointed. She asked them, “How could you rob me of the joy of anticipating being with you?”

The joy of anticipation… how beautiful is that? But you know, thinking about it, it is true. I know that before my students all come back at the beginning of the semester, when I’m sitting in my office, organizing for the upcoming events, I anticipate their arrival. And it’s a joy to anticipate. I know that soon, I will be busy and in the thick of it. At the beginning, I spend some time just anticipating, preparing, and readying myself… and, hopefully, doing so with love. Anticipating is part of the loving.

My community and I experienced this very clearly as we were anticipating our friends at the retreat center. When they arrived, the vans pulled up and they piled out. We raced out to the cars and hugged each of them almost before they were out of the car. And as we waited for the last two vans, I know that the anticipation was growing in my heart. My best girlfriend from my senior year of college, Meg, was in the last van to arrive. As much as I LOVED hugging each of my other 19 friends, I know that I kept anticipating her arrival even more after the others were there. Having friends like Matt, Sarah, Annie, and Kathy in my arms made me want to hug Meg all the more. The promise that she would arrive soon took away any anxiety of the waiting. The waiting was truly beloved, and it made the moment of reunion that much more beautiful. Had Meg arrived first, I might have lost track of that moment, or, worse, I might have been denied a moment of reunion with my other friends. Instead, the waiting was beloved and beautiful.

Perhaps this revelation for me, the beauty and beloved quality of waiting, should have come about before… like, at Advent, for example. I mean, it is the season of waiting ( and, as I have said before, my favorite liturgical season). Advent is dark—literally, as the days grow shorter; and figuratively, as many people face seasonal depression or sadness related to loss experienced during the holidays or simply from being alone. But even now, in ordinary time, we might face waiting. I wait anxiously for a final decision to be made about my plans for next year. Seniors wait for jobs or acceptance to grad school. Many sophomores wait for acceptance to the Pharmacy program. We are all waiting for something.

As for the anxiety associated with waiting, I found consolation in some of the reading we did on retreat. Thomas Merton wrote: “On all sides I am confronted by questions I cannot answer because the time for answering them has not yet come.” (from The Fire Watch)

We have to trust that God’s silence is not because He doesn’t know the answer or, an even worse thought, because He doesn’t care. It is simply because the time for answering has not yet come. There can be any number of reasons for this. In my experience, it is often because I am not yet the person who God intends to give an answer to.

My invitation for today is to remember that even in the heart of darkness, the waiting can be beloved. Let the joy of anticipation fill you. Trust in the Lord, do not be anxious. The time for answering will come. For now, we wait in joyful hope.

A Reminder of Good

A Reminder of Good

By Lauren Stark, BCC Leadership Team

(Written December 20)

It has been an emotional week for the nation. The Sandy Hook Elementary School shooting has impacted many Americans. The photos. The videos. The stories. In the midst of this tragedy, it’s hard to see God. It’s hard to find the good in the world that He promises. But on Monday, I caught a glimpse of it.

I met one of my closest Butler friends, Brett, in Chicago for a day of holiday fun. We went ice skating and window shopping, reminiscing about old memories and planning for future ones. Finally, we said our goodbyes, and I sat down on my train for the ride home. That’s when I realized my wallet was missing.

I panicked when I realized that I had left it on the bus I took to the train station. That wallet held everything—my license, car keys, cash, credit card. I was stuck in the city. On the verge of tears, I called home. My dad said he would call the bus company. Then I called Brett, who, without a second of hesitation, walked the five blocks to come wait with me and gave me money to buy another train ticket.

I have heard so many times of people whose wallets get stolen. And mine was just sitting there, free for the taking. That’s when I started crying. It was just a few material things—some paper and plastic and fabric—but I felt so helpless and lost.

Then I got the phone call from home. A man had found my wallet and had it at his apartment for me whenever I could get there to pick it up.

Tears kept flowing, and this time, they were out of pure relief.

By this point, my dad was already on the highway coming to pick me up, assuming as I had that the wallet was gone for good. When I told him the news, all he could say was “Wow.”

Two hours after I first realized the wallet was gone, I stood in the courtyard of a downtown apartment complex, waiting for this Mr. Napier who had my wallet. As soon as he walked out, I started crying again, getting out a few “thank you’s” amidst the tears.

My dad tried to give him some money, but the man refused. He said to me, “I don’t need any money. Why don’t you just give an extra five to your church this weekend?”

Tears seemed to be the theme of the day because as I sat down in my dad’s car for the ride home, my wallet sitting safely in my pocket again, I was crying again. Only this time, they were tears of sheer joy.

Now, I have heard the story of the Good Samaritan dozens of times. But that day, it finally made sense. There are people in this world who will do uncommon good, who will go out of their way to do what is right. Mr. Napier is my Good Samaritan.

As we hit the expressway, my dad turned to me and said, “Well, this goes to show that there are still good people in the world.”

Such true words. We see so much horror and tragedy all around us that the brightness and good become obscured. But God is always working to bring that good back into focus. I have no doubt that God put Mr. Napier on that bus, in that seat, to find my wallet. God gave me a model of goodness, a stranger who could show me the light.

And this year,  I’ll say a special prayer of blessing for that stranger…and a special prayer of thanks to God, for always giving me a light to hold on to.

Advent: Waiting and Preparing

by Kaitlyn Willy, BCC Chaplain’s Apprentice

I’ve been trying to find time to write since I got back from break, but like everyone at Butler, the end of the semester has me swamped. Between all the work I have to do, my community commitments, studying, and trying to finish my 100 book challenge by December 31, I really don’t have time to do much, including Advent. So, I took it as a sign from God at 2:30pm today when I sat down and finally looked at the Advent calendar on busted halo and it gave me this challenge: “Sit down today and finally begin that long-term project you’ve been meaning to start or pick it up again if you’ve stopped working on it.”  (By the way, you should totally check out the calendar! http://bustedhalo.com/features/advent-calendar-2012)

Okay, God, I’ll write the blog article.

Advent. I love Advent. And by that I mean I L-O-V-E Advent. It’s my favorite liturgical season. I get really excited every year on the first Sunday of Advent. We get to light the candles. We get to start a new liturgical year, start a new year in the lectionary. I get to wear LOTS of purple. Advent is THE BEST. My love for Advent is a little ironic; since it’s the season of waiting and waiting might be my single least favorite activity. In spite of my love for this season of lights, I’m not the best at “doing” Advent, at least not from a traditional perspective. I don’t have a Jesse tree in my home. I only rarely remember to open the door on my advent calendar and read the reading for the day (apparently most of you have advent calendars with chocolate? I guess then I’d remember… instead, mine has scripture). We’re four days into the season and I haven’t read a single page of my Advent prayer book for the year because it’s at home and I’m at work and rarely remember to bring it in or to read it at home—and I sincerely doubt I will get much better at remembering. Despite all of that, it’s still my favorite season.

Advent is a season of waiting, yes. But, look at what we’re waiting for! At Advent, we remind ourselves that not only are we soon to celebrate the birthday of our Savior, Christmas, but also that we are anticipating, every moment and every day, the second coming of our Lord, Jesus Christ. Is that exciting, or what?

This week, I had a great experience with the BCC where we invited other faith groups to come for an Advent Information session. Our friends from Hillel who came asked us what this second coming thing was anyways, and we had the opportunity to explain it, or at least to try to explain what we believe about it. As I reminded the BCC students, the idea of the Second Coming is not something to meet with fear, but rather with joy. Christ is coming!! ALLELUIA!! He is coming to take away the things that come between us, to let us be as we were meant to be.

I recently read the book Perelandra by C.S. Lewis. If you haven’t read the space trilogy, you should. Something that Lewis said in this book really struck me and is appropriate to think about as we are experiencing Advent. In Perelandra, the main character, Ransom, is having a conversation with the Queen and King of an unfallen world (aka, Adam and Eve, only an Adam and Eve who withstood the serpent’s temptations and did not give in). They are discussing what we call the end of time. Ransom tries to explain that because the world will change drastically when Christ comes again, we believe it will be the end of the world. Instead of agreeing, the Queen says that it is really the beginning. If we believe that we are a fallen world, that this is not how the world was meant to be, and that when Christ comes the world will be as it was meant to be, then we have to accept that in preparing for Christ’s coming, for the coming of the kingdom, we are not preparing for an end, but rather a new beginning. While we certainly need to take a good look at ourselves and address our sinfulness and repent, the thought of the new beginning should bring us joy and consolation, not fear.

So, Advent is about preparing to welcome Christ into our hearts and preparing for the second coming—big tasks, for sure, but exciting. The next question that our Hillel friends asked us was how do we do this?

Advent is three dimensional, and the part we’ve talked about above covers only two of the dimensions. The third dimension is recognizing that we not only welcome Christ into our hearts and await the second coming, but that to do so and prepare, we must greet Christ in every person we encounter. Every person we meet has a divine soul and is, on some level, a divine being. We are all made in God’s image and likeness. C.S. Lewis says something of this as well:

“It is a serious thing to live in a society of possible gods and goddesses, to remember that the dullest most uninteresting person you talk to may one day be a creature which, if you saw it now, you would be strongly tempted to worship, or else a horror and a corruption such as you now meet, if at all, only in a nightmare. All day long we are, in some degree helping each other to one or the other of these destinations. It is in the light of these overwhelming possibilities, it is with the awe and the circumspection proper to them, that we should conduct all of our dealings with one another, all friendships, all loves, all play, all politics. There are no ordinary people. You have never talked to a mere mortal. Nations, cultures, arts, civilizations - These are mortal, and their life is to ours as the life of a gnat. But it is immortals whom we joke with, work with, marry, snub, and exploit - immortal horrors or everlasting splendors.” – C.S. Lewis in The Weight of Glory

And if we understand this, that these immortal souls who we meet every day are really so extraordinary, then how we treat them must by necessity change from how we act now. In his Rule (Chapter 53—Thanks, Pat, for sharing this), St. Benedict says this of greetings guests:

Let all guests who arrive be received like Christ, for He is going to say, "I came as a guest, and you received Me" (Matt. 25:35). And to all let due honor be shown, especially to the domestics of the faith and to pilgrims.

As soon as a guest is announced, therefore, let the Superior or the brethren meet him

with all charitable service. And first of all let them pray together,and then exchange the kiss of peace. For the kiss of peace should not be offered until after the prayers have been said, on account of the devil's deceptions.

In the salutation of all guests, whether arriving or departing, let all humility be shown. Let the head be bowed or the whole body prostrated on the ground in adoration of Christ, who indeed is received in their persons.

After the guests have been received and taken to prayer, let the Superior or someone appointed by him sit with them. Let the divine law be read before the guest for his edification, and then let all kindness be shown him. The Superior shall break his fast for the sake of a guest, unless it happens to be a principal fast day which may not be violated. The brethren, however, shall observe the customary fasts.

Let the Abbot give the guests water for their hands; and let both Abbot and community wash the feet of all guests. After the washing of the feet let them say this verse: "We have received Your mercy, O God, in the midst of Your temple" (Ps.47[48]:10).

In the reception of the poor and of pilgrims the greatest care and solicitude should be shown, because it is especially in them that Christ is received; for as far as the rich are concerned, the very fear which they inspire wins respect for them.

Now, I know that I cannot kiss or wash the feet of every guest who comes into my house (or every student that comes into my office)—if for no other reason, because they (and, probably, I) would feel very uncomfortable with it. Yet, as I am reminded by Lewis and St. Benedict, I often fail to do more than look up from my work or cooking or book when someone enters my office or my home. I greet them half-heartedly, then, unless something more is needed from me, I go back to my work.

Is that really a way to welcome a human being, made in the image and likeness of God, an immortal soul?

Advent is really a time when we try to remember this in a special way. It is not that we aren’t always supposed to love our neighbor—obviously, that is part of our daily life as Christians, even outside of Advent. The thing about Advent is that it is a reminder of how we should act, how we should love. As I said in my last post, the spirit of Christmas is love. If Advent is the preparation for Christmas and the spirit of Christmas is love, then Advent is a time to practice love—not only for our friends, but for strangers; not only for strangers, but our families and neighbors we don’t like as well as others.

So, during this wonderful season of Advent, I invite you to stand back and look at those around you. Remember Lewis’s reflections and St. Benedict’s Rule. As you wait to welcome Christ into the world at Christmas, lovingly welcome these humans made in the image of Christ into your life. I promise you, these preparations will it make Christmas mean so much more when the waiting is over and we welcome Christ in on December 25.

On Thanksgiving and Delight

Written by Kaitlyn Willy
BCC Chaplain's Apprentice
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I cannot believe it is November! November is a crazy month in college, I think. We just celebrated Halloween (with a super awesome Confused Holiday party—check out the BCC Facebook page for pictures) and now we’re getting ready for Thanksgiving Break.

I love Thanksgiving. It’s not about the food—with celiac, most of my family’s food choices make me sick—but rather, it’s about seeing my family for the first time in a long time, some of them for the first time since Christmas.

The worst thing about being so far from home in college, and now as a college grad, has always been what I am missing at home. I have baby cousins whose ages span from one year to six years. I have missed more of the important moments of their childhoods than I can bear. The only thing that really makes it bearable is the time I get to spend with them at the holidays. 

Last week, as I was thinking about how close Thanksgiving was, I kept thinking about these beautiful babies and how I couldn’t wait to see and hug each one. These cousins, really the sons and daughters of my cousins, Bailey, Trustin, Westin, Colton and Jarret Wayne are pretty much the highlight of every holiday (and the cause of much ruckus and chaos that it wouldn’t be a holiday without). Food is nice, presents are great, but these beautiful kids and the energy and love I get from them are at the top of my list when I think about what I’m thankful for at Thanksgiving; them and their mommies and daddies, their grandmas and grandpas, aunts and uncles who have loved me from the moment that I was born. I come from a big, crazy, hillbilly family in the Missouri Ozarks that makes the family in My Big Fat Greek Wedding look tame. Both sides of my family live in the same town and together, we make up about half of Rolla (or at least, that’s how it seems). Words are inadequate to express how much I love them and how hard it is to be so far away.

Just as I was beginning to look forward to this Thanksgiving and getting to see my family, I found out that one of these precious little ones, Jarret, was sick. Jarret is my cousin Travis’ son and has always been the one who was more likely to be sick. This time, he had had an emergency appendectomy (extremely rare for a five year old) that caused an infection. They have had to do two more surgeries (one major, one minor) since and Jarret is still in the hospital. Every day, I wait for a text message from my aunt or a phone call from my mother to see how he is doing. I am scared at how sick he seems to be and bothered that I’m not there to do anything (as if I could do anything anyway). I believe with all my heart that with prayers and love, he will be okay. But I can’t help but think about how this experience reminds me of my junior year.

As many of you know, I spent the second semester of my sophomore year in Rome. While I was there, two of my cousins passed away, one from cancer and another from a blood clot. The week I got back, another cousin died, this time in a car accident. It was a horrible, difficult, painful year for our family and when my cousin, Travis, was in a serious car accident five days before the start of my junior year, I wasn’t sure how to keep moving. It felt like I was trying to move under water, everything was sluggish, everything was slow. Even though Trav and I have never been extremely close, I couldn’t imagine my life without his snarky personality or beautiful smile or wonderful laugh. For several months, I started my day by checking facebook to see what updates his mom or sisters had posted, called my Mom to check in, texted my aunts. It was not until Thanksgiving that I got to see him, safe, alive, and getting healthier every day. That Thanksgiving, even in light of the losses we had suffered, we truly had a reason to be thankful.

 Travis and Jarret Wayne (I think JW is two in this picture), my two miracles!

I believe with my whole heart that Travis recovered as a result of the numerous prayers that were being offered for him. Our whole hometown seemed to rise up and embrace our family with love and support and give their prayers. My university community and the high school students I worked with prayed for us, my priest offered many masses for Travis, and friends would sit with me and pray and hold me and let me cry. That’s what healed Travis, and I believe that with those same prayers, Jarret will be okay, too.

Of course, now I have even more desire to be home with my family this Thanksgiving. I want to support my cousin Chris, Jarret’s grandma, who has spent far too much time in the hospital as a caregiver these last few years. I want to be able to show my love for this family whose love gives me life. And I want to be able to be there, to look at and count my blessings, and to thank God for the gifts He has given me.

As Thanksgiving approaches, we talk a lot about what we are thankful for, perhaps more often than we do all the rest of the year combined. But I want to introduce a new word to you, a word that I have been meditating on a lot lately: delight. Delight is something that wells up inside you, that brings you joy even when there is also sadness.

Take delight in those you love. Something I enjoy immensely is to stand apart for a moment and look at a group of people whom I love deeply and just delight in this gift of having them, having them so near to me, being given the opportunity to love them. When I go home next week, I will spend a lot of time delighting. I will delight in holding Audrey Cecilia, the two-month-old daughter of one of my best friends who I haven’t gotten to meet yet. I will delight in seeing Travis healthy and hopefully, I can delight in Jarret being healthy too. I will delight in the little ones and all my cousins, my aunts, uncles, and my parents without whom I could not be me. In this delighting, I grow more grateful and also grow closer to the God who stands and looks at and delights in me. And I will thank God that I have this chance to be with them, that I can delight in them and love them in person, and that He has made me in His image, made me His own delight.

So, please pray for Jarret and our family and be safe as you go home to delight in your own family. Happy Thanksgiving!