I have been itching to get back here. My little fingers, burning to hit those keys in nonwork related matters. Typically, I am furiously plucking at my keyboard editing a motion while having a work Zoom meeting on in the background. I am also skilled at balancing my iPad on my lap while I type in court (the clerk shooting me dirty looks because I am efficient). And by the time all is said and done, I don’t want to sit in the glow of the computer screen any longer. Today, I finally felt up to it. My whole heart and brain are here.
‘Hello’ to my friends in the snowy Midwest. Earlier in the week, my grandfather sent me a video of the snow falling, an inch a minute. He told me then he was so sick of the snow already. I wonder how he feels now that there is a full blown bomb cyclone with more snowfall covering the area. The Midwest is white and slushy, apparently. Meanwhile, here in the Northeast, we can’t get enough of the rain. It was the same last week. I just went out to get water because, you know, when you get that little mental nudge and Alexa tells you a half dozen times that there are weather advisories, you listen. So, I am stocked up on water like the apocalpyse is coming. I will sip tea into any crisis.
When I saw all the snow falling in Michigan, I got nostalgic. I Google street viewed my grandfather’s house. Then, I couldn’t remember my old street in Michigan, so I googled an Arby’s in that town that arrived in 1999 (it is still there– when I would fake run away from home through my window, I liked going there), and I found my old street and house. I wondered where my old nice neighbors were and what became of them. I wondered if the grape vine was there on the fence still. Places shape us, and yet they are constantly changing and leaving us behind.
I then found my old house and street in another state. I couldn’t find the Air Force Base house because no street view goes in there, I assume, for security reasons. I wondered how my old teacher was and whether the golf course on base was still green as ever. I wondered what changed without me. I have, over the years, realized there is no place I can really go back to that feels just like my memory.
That’s the thing, when you move a lot– you are constantly leaving places and people behind and changing, but then, you realize the places change without you, too. The last time I went home, even Central Florida felt so different. Gainesville was an entirely different place from my college days. I felt like it had left me behind. I was a stranger. That’s the thing about change, we don’t realize how encompassing it is. It creeps up on us.
This week, as I wandered around Manhattan, I got the opposite feeling. I mean, don’t get me wrong, parts of the City are different from when I got here. There are different businesses and places that close and pop up. But this week, it felt strangely familiar. It felt like it used to. It felt festive and glitzy and extended its hand out to me. The island whispered softly, dream, with all of its sparkling lights glowing adoringly. That familiarity felt comforting. It was the first time I ever really did feel comforted by the City. I didn’t feel like I was leaving it behind or like it was leaving me behind. It felt like we were in sync, moving together.
She felt like a friend who, after a long crisis and stage of self-abandonment, puts on a party dress, blows out her hair and puts on her best makeup. She winked, she danced, and she greeted me with the warmest, most familiar, yet unexpected hug.
[Image via Pinterest, The Magician’s Nephew, by C.S. Lewis]
“And all the lives we ever lived and all the lives to be are full of trees and changing leaves.”
Virginia Woolf, To the Lighthouse
Trees stand like buildings, their branches like floors where little squirrels abide and munch on their snacks. In the summer, they are private buildings. In the autumn, the fallen leaves have left gaps in the levels of branches, making little window pockets between the yellow leafy remains that endure the wind.
Trees in the spring and autumn grow musical. In spring, you can hear the budding happening. Insects buzz around soft blossoms. In autumn, the rustle of the leaves is melodious as they cling and fall, a certain song. In the winter, the trees’ music stops. Silence grows like a pause in music. Rest.
Trees have their arms out, reaching toward one another, whispering sweet secrets to each other from the beginning of time, and they embrace and hold the little creatures who shelter themselves. Their hollow parts a little cove.
Trees, in every season, always welcome us. Their leaves change, like a change of clothes, their frame, steady, remains.
Sometimes, I think about the trees in Genesis. They held fruits of knowledge, good and evil, and fruit of life. Trees have always been present in our history. They held mysterious fruits that changed the course of the universe. They have always drawn us to them and will be steady fixture for the human race. Revelation tells us that when all is said and done, a tree’s leaves will be used for the healing of the nations. Their power remains. They have been our downfall, our company in death and decay, and will be our healing. Their melody and friendship never stops. They have witnessed and shared our history.
“Then the angel showed me the river of the water of life, bright as crystal, flowing from the throne of God and of the Lamb through the middle of the street of the city; also, on either side of the river, the tree of life with its twelve kinds of fruit, yielding its fruit each month. The leaves of the tree were for the healing of the nations. No longer will there be anything accursed, but the throne of God and of the Lamb will be in it, and his servants will worship him. They will see his face, and his name will be on their foreheads. And night will be no more. They will need no light of lamp or sun, for the Lord God will be their light, and they will reign forever and ever.”
This evening, I saw another tree lighting (I have been to four now!). The singers were amazing and actually harmonized unlike some of the shouting children I have seen at other tree lightings (the quality of music teachers has severely declined. Our old music teachers made us sound like a choir of angels by comparison…) I saw a holiday market (all of this was witnessed on the walk to the train), and I rode the train with a guy who called us all strippers and decidedly told us all we were trash. (Do you love it?)
As he yelled weird insults, I reflected on how autumn is coming to a close. This season, I didn’t eat a single apple. I suppose this isn’t weird for people who have braces or retainers. (Can you imagine not being able to bite into an apple?! I guess many of you can). Wild. I started to think about what I would miss from autumn and the rhythm of change. Winter is almost here. You can feel it in the damp chilly air. The way time has flown by has mesmerized me.
Was there something you missed this autumn? I mean, it isn’t too late. As for me, I think this weekend, I will buy myself one apple to calm the craving and fulfill that desire. Do you have a favorite kind?
There are some things that it feels like everyone has. This is mostly a humorous post, but you will agree with me on at least one, I am sure.
Gift Guide: Doesn’t it feel like everyone has one during this time of year? #affiliatelinks Time to unsubscribe from all of them (except the good ones).
Makeup/Skincare Brand: Everyone and their mother has one. Sephora doesn’t know how many more celebrity shelves it can fit in its store.
Website: Maybe it is because I interview people often, but I am shocked at the amount of people who have a full on website. The world is full of domains.
Cosmetic Procedures: Everyone who is famous (and now also nonfamous) has a before and after photo. No one looks the same. Some people have become entirely different humans. (See Adele)
Podcast: Everyone has a podcast these days. And everyone wants some kind of exclusive platform for it.
Streaming Service: We went from cable to a million different subscription services. Sigh.
BMW: I don’t get it, but they are everywhere in Brooklyn.
What ubiquitous item(s) have you spotted? #ACaseStudy
“Therefore, we do not wait for the promise in despair but in hope. Hope, this glorious hope, rests in Jesus. As we consider His humble entrance into the world as a baby this Advent season, may we also eagerly await the day He returns in glory as King (Revelation 21:1-8). Like the Israelites rested for centuries in the promise of the Messiah, may we rest in the hope of His second coming. We wait. We trust. We hope. This is Advent.” Hope has Come, pg. 24
Today, as I was reflecting on these words, I thought about how important it is to not grow weary or despondent. It was only those who decided to hope who recognized Jesus when He walked among them.
There was a JFK essay contest in high school. We learned about it through a newspaper we would read in English class. Those cute papers that had poems and featured other peer writing. I wanted in, and I read through his writings in my spare time. I read Profiles in Courage. I am not sure I processed it in the way I needed to, but I was amazed by some of the things our former president said. While I gave him some serious side-eye for the adulterous dalliances, I do remember quotes like:
“The cost of freedom is always high, but Americans have paid it. And one path we shall never choose and that is the path of surrender, or submission.”
John F. Kennedy
I lost the essay contest. (Don’t worry, this isn’t my second stab at it).
The other day, I watched a series that showed (what I have heard) is a very accurate portrayal of communism (I can only be told because I have never lived it in the flesh). In films like these, you see the poverty, the snitches and betrayal, the corrupted and farcical caricature of a “legal system”. You see the hunger. The plainness of it all. How you can be intelligent and smart and be stripped of every opportunity because someone doesn’t like you or you have refused to conform. An incredibly frustrating cluster-f of a world.
The series left me sad. Not because of the poverty and events– poverty isn’t new to me, neither were some of the dynamics, circumstances and events depicted. I mean, even Latin America has its heavy history of political turmoil, disappearances, and censorship. And if we are honest, even the U.S. has participated in these activities abroad. Coups and all. You don’t have to go far. In Puerto Rico, dissidents and people who were pro-independence were black listed and raided by the U.S. forces. Leaders were imprisoned and experimented on. No one’s hands are clean.
What did leave me with a pit in my stomach as I watched was the level of despair and hopelessness I saw in the people in the series. It was a mindset and way of life. In a communist country, there was no light people looked to. I didn’t see any hope. This was unfamiliar to me, culturally. People in this series just lived from one tragic downfall to the next, as if all they were awaiting was death. It disturbed me. I once heard Yeonmi Park say that in North Korea, there is no word for “love.” Language and other factors can very much shape our reality and emotional development.
While this country (the U.S.) has played a dark hand in incidents abroad (not gonna sugarcoat it and lie to you, here), when you live here, you have opportunity (that is a fact). So many stories. We can start at those young men who fought in the revolution (cue The Patriot music), Frederick Douglas, and move through history and look at the remarkable stories of Americans (even in pop culture). People like Ben Carson, Manny Khoshbin, Dolly Parton, Bobby Bones, Steve Harvey… The stories of great Americans may have meager beginnings but when people are infused with hope and divine favor, they achieved remarkable things. You see, in ‘Merica, we have a word for hope. We live it. We breathe it. We die by it. It is the American way. This country was and has been untouched by the old world despondency. This is not the land of Dickens; it is the world of the adventurous Mark Twain. It has sparkles and a coat of many colors others dream of.
The mixture of opportunity with the nurturing of hope and faith is something we must never lose. It has made us unique. Resilience makes us strong. It changes resignation and despair into courage and initiative. This is what also makes so many of the immigrant stories to the U.S. so great.
“Lives of great men all remind us, we can make our lives sublime, and, departing, leave behind us, footprints on the sands of time”
Longfellow
We live in this incredible country where the poorest person is rich in comparison to someone in a labor camp in China. I sometimes sit and read the more hidden news stories (the ones our government doesn’t want to acknowledge). The ones of people fighting for a better reality. You have courageous protestors in Iran, a genocide happening in China and the brave Chinese people protesting against a brutal tyrannical government some people in world government and officials in this very country have expressed that we should emulate. It disturbs me that the world is still fighting for freedom because it is what we desire as humans, yet others don’t see it and romanticize the oppressors of others. There is such a distorted view of what are actually corrupt iron grips on power, governments with no accountability. This grip threatens to smash what is in its reach to pieces, but hope is more powerful still.
Every night, I see those images. I see those faces being dragged away or smashed into the ground, and I pray for them. For the ones I see and for the ones I don’t see. I pray they somehow feel God’s presence with them in the dark as they strive for what God created them for– to be free. I want to acknowledge the countries I see on my stat board here on the blog. It has never been the U.S. only. I see you China, Iran, Yemen, Cuba… I see you. I see those closed countries in the Middle East. I see you.
[White paper protests in China, image via Yahoo]
Romans 15:13 says, Our hope comes from the Lord.
I’ve lived a very privileged life. I can’t begin to explain hope and the presence of God to someone who has endured the horrors of North Korea, Siberia, China or the Holocaust. I have only lived the life of an American girl, but I do know that God doesn’t just exist for one part of the world and not for another. No matter where you are, you were born for such a time as this. In some ways, I know I don’t have to explain hope. Many have already found more of it than I have ever held; they have ingested doses of it at levels that have kept them alive. I have heard too many stories of miracles, dreams and rays of light finding people in prisons, dark cells, on boats while being smuggled, in a desert under a sky that spells death. I lean on these stories and know that even in the darkest night, light has found a way.
There are mysteries I can’t unravel, and depths of wisdom I can’t swim in as I have never been thrown into those depths. But in this season, where we think of Christmas and the religious liberty this country offers us to know God deeply and experience Him, I can’t help but think that as we as a society move toward secularism and forms of government that celebrate that same secularism, we plunge ourselves deeper and deeper into a proven mire of despair, confusion and oppression. There is nothing for us there.
I mean have you read the latest in the Balenciaga scandal? That stylist tied to the brand who went viral for her disturbing images of children covered in blood– Lotta Volkova. One wonders how we have come to a place in American society where these disturbing notions are seen as art and not the depravity that they are (involving children, no less).
I sit here looking at slides of news slide past me, and I wonder. Will anything pump the brakes as we race toward our own pool of despair where nothing floats? Can we, in a day where we can’t even define a woman, hold onto opportunity and justice? The legal systems, the fairness, the consequences (you work hard, you pave your way) that made this country great– can we hold onto that? If you haven’t been paying attention, it is fading. The fact is it is unraveling quickly. And if we know Scripture, we know we hold onto these things with an open hand. None of this, in a world tarnished by sin, is made to last. It is by definition unsustainable. We are devouring ourselves. And yet– if an end brings a new beginning, and we trust our future in the hands of a good God who wants to rescue us, then what shall we fear?
My mind turns to the underground Christians in Rome who survived persecution. They communicated in hidden ways and kept spreading the hope they had found. They committed Scripture to memory. I remember them every time I recite a passage or verse from Scripture. I remember the power of hiding His Word in my mind and keeping a song in my heart. I heard recently that Christianity is a singing religion. This is how we have committed the truth of who God is to memory. I think of the underground Christians today.
I realize that people who grew up under other circumstances outside of this country look at me as a bit fantastical and no doubt an outrageous dreamer and believer. It’s true– I grew up with hope like oxygen. I am clinging to it always. Many of us have and are. You see, it hasn’t failed me yet, (so don’t fail me now).
This I know is true: Hope is not in circumstance. My hope is in God, who never fails, despite circumstance. I belong to a faith where a man who tragically lost every person he loved wrote a hymn that says, “It is well with my soul.” While observing no hope, I confirmed that there is something about living with hope that changes absolutely everything, on the inside and on the outside.
If you are reading this abroad, I pray I can share some of my hope with you. As I witness your stand, I am filled with courage and it confirms my hope that Jesus is coming soon. He is coming to flip this on its head.
Hope stands on what is not seen and believes in something beyond what is seen. Take it with you. Hold onto it. My prayers are with you.
Jesus promises to wipe every tear from our eyes. Perhaps there is something hidden in this Bible promise. Maybe this naturally means that those who have endured the most will be in God’s presence the longest. He will sit with them and make all things new.
For now, we cling to hope, we seize every opportunity and stand in resilience.
PS. Fun fact… there has been for years a category on this blog called “hope.” Stick around. We breathe that stuff here and we share.
Fire has always been familiar. As someone who grew up camping, I saw it often. We also used it a lot at church gatherings, so there is that. I saw how it would grow into a steady flame, how it warmed food and snacks. I heard stories in its glow. I felt its warmth on cold nights. The crackle was always a bit hypnotic. It was a place of gathering. Not always for friends, but definitely for those who were familiar. I remember moments of silence by a fire and moments where I extended my arms toward it to warm my hands; also moments of laughter and moments of worship (someone always had a guitar, the most portable instrument in the world, I suppose).
Its warmth was real. Its warning of danger was real. Its light was real. In recent years, I felt the yearning to go camping, stronger and stronger. I miss seeing the stars at night, the rustle of the trees, an occasional raccoon stealing sustenance, and the fleece cocoon of a sleeping bag. Mostly, I miss the bonfire moments, sparks flying up to the heavens.
God is described as an all-consuming fire in Scripture. Mostly, it is a description of His holiness. It is also not lost on me that anything that touches fire is radically transformed. God leaves nothing unchanged. These are the things that come to mind on the nights filled with stars, where I take my sticky marshmallow off the knobby stick and wedge it between two graham crackers and a tiny piece of chocolate gets goopy. These are the thoughts I ponder as the fire dies down and the night grows cold. There is a force in the world that doesn’t grow cold or stop burning. His warmth and light are inextinguishable.
Even when the fire has gone out, even when the campgrounds have been far– His warmth that I learned to feel in those moments has never departed.
“Elon is crashing Twitter, Kanye is exposing the illuminati, Ghislaine is drafting her memoir, Trump is back to causing mayhem, and Biden still doesn’t know he’s been elected. The drama level is so high.” Jessica Kraus (@houseinhabit)
That quote above basically sums it up. November felt like a short month with too much to do. The month started with the anticipation of election day. I was disappointed in the general apathy of the general public, as expected.
The World Cup is weirdly in winter– it just feels wrong. (Rooting for the motherland-Spain). I wrapped up Christmas shopping (I can’t do the anxiety-filled December shopping). The Chosen, as I write this, sits at #3 in the box office, and I am so excited to watch Season 3.
Balenciaga, who earlier cut ties with Kanye due to “antisemitism,” decided it would take the moral high ground and feature a holiday ad campaign that sexualizes children. No celebrities have expressed outrage, of course (also as expected). Jessica Kraus’ coverage of the Weinstein trial has been FIRE. Hulu is onto me and my hopes for a free trial, and every Christmas movie on the platform looks lame (so take that, Hulu!). Back to The Holiday.
Melissa Wood Health has redone its platform, and I am super excited about it. Congrats to Melissa! Been a member now for years and ready to have more fun working out.
We approach deep winter, now. We have had strange warmer weather, so far. Very mild. I hope we see some snow stick at some point. Wouldn’t that be magical? Has it snowed where you are? Buffalo was drowning in snow, just the other day…
Before December takes over with Christmas music full blast, I leave you with my November favorites.
“A truly elegant taste is generally accompanied by excellence of heart.” Fielding
“What is ahead of me is worth healing for.” Nakeia Homer
“Practice not freaking out as you watch the unexpected circumstances God brings unfolding in front of you.” Bob Goff
“Whenever you are fed up with life, start writing; ink is the great cure for all human ills, as I have found out long ago.” C.S. Lewis (On Writing)
“Surround yourself with relentless humans. People who plan in decades, but live in moments. Train like savages, but create like artists. Obsess in work, relax in life. People who know this is finite, and choose to play infinite games. Find people going up mountains. Climb together.” Zach Pogrob
“While the world changes, the cross stands firm.” St. Bruno
“You gotta start believing that your morning commute is cute and fun, that every cup of coffee is the best you’ve ever had. That even the smallest and most mundane things are exciting and new. You have to because that’s when you start truly living. That’s when you look forward to every day.” Gregg Braden
“Be careful what you learn for that is what you will know.” Annie Dillard
“If people are uncomfortable because of your boldness, you’re on the right track.” Bob Goff
“Following Jesus means being constantly misunderstood.” Bob Goff
“It’s time we stopped acting like our failures somehow disqualify us from God’s love, when in reality these setbacks might lead to a keener awareness of it.” (screenshot from my Kindle, I forgot the book).
“Until we believe that life is war, we will not know what prayer is for.” John Piper
“All get what they want; they do not always like it.” C.S. Lewis, The Magicians Nephew
“Ne jamais regretter d’avoir reve trop fort, se tromper est le seul risque– et alors? Demain matin sera un jour nouveau, un jour pour faire autrement s’il le faut, et vivre, vivre.” Charlotte Husson
“Let’s face it: most people who vote are not ‘well informed’. They have little interest even in debate because they’re already convinced that their duty is to vote up and down the entire ticket for one of two corrupted tribes. When it comes to measures that aren’t already designated to a party, all the average voter wants is for someone else to tell them what to do.” Rob Herring
“Yes, hurt people might hurt others. But fortunately, free people free others. Safe people shelter others. Enlightened people illuminate others. And love always wins.” Vex King
“Now more than ever we must pick ourselves up and rise to the occassion.” @therealrukshan
Listen, I can’t give you the exact information I read in the almanac, partly because I don’t know it by memory (and the book is across the studio, and I am too lazy to get up), and partly because I have only been reading an almanac for a year. I am dweeby like that, but slow to recall.
One thing I have found most fascinating is the section on planting and the moon. I know, I know. They say there is “no scientific evidence” for planting by the moon, but what people consider “science” is a bit suspect these days. Anecdotal evidence and experience is good enough for me. Isn’t that how the biggest scientific discoveries came to be? People paying attention to patterns emerging over time. And if the people from like Little House on the Prairie lived by it, who am I to argue with that? I mean, please, I get my produce from Gourmet Fresh.
In an almanac, you will find that there is a description of the fact that there are days in the month, where because of the moon, you plant above ground. Then, on other days, you plant below ground. And then, in another part of the monthly cycle, you let things be still, and you prune and clean.
Just like the moon, there are seasons that pull us out or they draw out our energy and talent in different ways. Some seasons, they pull us in. They are seasons of nurishment and preparation. And in other moments, we just need to be still and clear away any distractions, baggage and clutter.
The moon is an interesting friend. She is one thing we can all look up at, and we see the same moon. Her light connects us all; her pull is felt by all.
I saw the image that captures a scene from The Chosen (above), and I found it to be so profound.
We live in a world where we treasure certainty. When I speak to people in my age bracket, it seems to be the thing everyone wants. Everyone wants to be sure of something, maybe because it promises authority over another or it promises to remove the discomfort we fear.
I think this is why so many people went along with the pandemic policy disasters that were so heavily promulgated. This desire to have concrete answers (and the pretending to have them) is something one sees in many religious circles. We pride ourselves thinking we have all the answers. There is an arrogance to that.
And yet, to me, Jesus doesn’t ask us to be sure about all things and to have all the answers. When we look at the men who walked with God physically, they certainly didn’t. It was as James so truthfully tells John— he was convicted of who Jesus is, but that didn’t mean he understood all of His words or why He did things.
What if we simplified things and simply held onto the fact that we know who He is. What if we were humble enough to accept that there is so much that doesn’t make sense to us, but that is ok. Our role is to follow Him because we know who He is and where that ultimately leads, which is eternal life. Everything in between will be filled with uncertainty and be incomprehensible at times. And that is okay; we are mere mortals.
We just need to keep walking with Him. We listen. We observe, and we just keep following.
GABRIELA YARELIZ 