Ever notice how October is a bit of a glory hound? It comes in with a blaze, still warm afternoons, pumpkin spiciness, grinning jack-o-lanterns, kids in costume, and we hungrily eat it up.
November feels a bit somber by comparison–especially if you’re Catholic. Bang! As soon as you turn the page on the calendar, we dedicate two marvelous days to honoring the dead: Saints to begin, and then our own litanies of loved ones who have passed. *I wrote on both of these days for Blessed Is She this month if you want to delve in. Then we turn the clocks back and all hell breaks loose in our internal rhythm–darkness moves in and ushers with it muted brown and gray leaves, if there are any left after the sleet and wind. Baking and comfort food are redeeming qualities, though, it can begin to feel like we’re trudging our way to Thanksgiving and Advent.
Yes?
My husband recently shared a quote from Teddy Roosevelt that feels appropriate to add to the conversation, seasonal or not: ‘Comparison is the thief of joy.’ A pretty pithy little phrase.
I’ll be honest, this is a skill I’m honing. I still roll my eyes at my neighbors’ ever-present Halloween decor that hasn’t come down in the years we’ve lived on this block. It’s easier on my eyes and my conscience when the things before me do not remind me of insufficiency, need, or apathy. When I can tidy things up and make them appear to be less broken and more lovely. I recognize this is broken thinking, that it is actually our brokenness that makes room for beauty to spring forth, and yet…
Because the atmosphere this time of year lends itself to comparison, and the fact that I’m not particularly good at avoiding it, here’s a couple of folks who are worth paying attention to, and can speak eloquently on ways we can also choose to see beauty in the small, imperfect, goodness that surrounds us:
Shannan Martin–I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, Shannan (The Ministry of Ordinary Places) is the queen of holding up the very good and usual, and proclaiming it, beautiful; lovable, even. Cook in a shelter by day, writer by night, married to a jail chaplain, she sees the world for what it is, and adores it. In many ways, she could be the patron saint of November’s ordinariness. And when she points it out, I see it too.
I try to channel Shannan when I need to re-frame the ordinary into the lovable.
My friend Cara of the Dorothy Exchange, who has the ability to cultivate children’s learning from nature, and grown-ups learning to do beautiful things by hand through her Skillshare–inspired by Dorothy Day (swoon!). What she notices and passes on to her children, and those around her is so encouraging to me in the ways I can also integrate simple beauty and wonder into each day.
I am listening for her words as I try to intentionally prepare our home for Advent.
Jack Jezreel, founder of JustFaith ministries and author of A New Way to Be Church. His words are lingering with me, along with his deep love for the Catholic Church which seems to fuel his innovation in the very places parishes have run out of creativity–by way of a new take on empowering parishioners to meet the needs of their local communities in new ways. To heed his words would challenge us to see just how much more we might do, and how we might be changed by re-imagining what it looks like to meet the needs of the marginalized and our role in it.
I hear these words lately as I enter our parish.
It turns out that paying any heed to their wise voices or practices is a true act of resistance to the culture of comparison as well as consumerism,which is a God-send this time of year. Not just theirs, of course. Any words that help us to see the goodness of what is, minus the analysis of how it may compare to anything else. I’m finding their voices echoing in my head as I begin the process of clearing out the clutter of my heart and making room for the Christ child this season.
Advent is near and we can feel it. There is an equally pithy little phrase that can help in times like these when we long for something more and maintain a testy relationship with what is: ‘Already and not yet.’ This is eschatology in a nutshell–or really great fuel for prayer life. In the same way we desire the perfection of what is to be, we are mired down right here in the present circumstances, playing whatever role we have been given to bring about the Kingdom on Earth–as imperfect and messy as that may be.
Happily, we are meant for both.
We crave beauty, we seek it, and we are nourished by it. All of this is good. However, I’m beginning to suspect (maybe late to the party) that we are culturally un-learning how to see beauty, and therefore struggle with gloomy times like these. Likely this is why hygge has caught on in such a big way–because we are simply over the disposable, glittery, insta-beauty, and craving something richer, more substantial. The bottom line is, the more substantial thing is not a thing at all.
Rather, the substance consists of unlikely friends, and unexpected glimpses of goodness for which we will never tire of searching;The days that were interrupted by persistent and compelling distractions. Now more than ever, would that we all be seekers of small and ordinary wonders.
Here’s to a sufficient & joyful Thanksgiving for you and yours!
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