He is the image of the invisible God, the firstborn of all creation; for in him all things in heaven and on earth were created, things visible and invisible, whether thrones or dominions or rulers or powers—all things have been created through him and for him. He himself is before all things, and in him all things hold together. He is the head of the body, the church; he is the beginning, the firstborn from the dead, so that he might come to have first place in everything. For in him all the fullness of God was pleased to dwell, and through him God was pleased to reconcile to himself all things, whether on earth or in heaven, by making peace through the blood of his cross.
Recently, I saw perhaps the weirdest video I’ve ever seen. It begins with a woman preparing fresh fish for supper. On the screen we see her hands: one holding a kitchen knife, the other holding a raw fish fillet on a cutting board over a sink. All she has left to do is cleaning off a few more scales and the fish will be ready to cook. But (here’s the weird thing), every time she touches her knife to the headless fillet, it spontaneously bends up towards her. She shrieks, “This fish is trying to bite me and it doesn’t even have a head!” Crazy, right?
You know what’s even crazier, though? The fact that fish aren’t the only ones guilty of acting as if they can operate without a rightful head in place. Too often we followers of Christ do the same thing. We flop around and can’t figure out why we feel distant from God. In our churches, we wonder why we can’t form community, why there’s so little harmony and so much discord. Could it be that we are trying to live godly lives and form meaningful connections without our Head?
Thank you God for Jesus! Help us always to make Christ first place in everything. Amen.
“The question is not ‘if’ I will go to college,” I told my peers as we chatted in the school cafeteria, “the question is ‘where?’” My lunch mates might not have known how to spend their next four years, but my decision about college had been made well before my senior year of high school; in fact, the plan for me to continue my education had been put in place long before I was even born.
Granddaddy, my mother’s father, always wanted to be a doctor. He had the brains for it too; all his teachers said so. I remember my sister and me playing this game with him: one of us would get a calculator; the other would call out numbers and operations. “Nineteen plus 382, minus 44, times three . . .” The one with the calculator would compute the equation while Granddaddy did it mentally, scratching an occasional detail on his notepad. Granddaddy always got it right. Sometimes he even beat the calculator.
But Granddaddy never finished college because life took some unfortunate turns for his family. Granddaddy made the only choice he felt he could at that time: he went to work, earning money to pay tuition for his sisters so that they could complete their teaching degrees. “You girls got to get your education,” he must have said to them as he said a generation later to my mother and even later to my sister and to me. “These days, men can always get work, but you girls will need a college degree to get a good paying job.”
“For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the LORD, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.”
Though I found it sad that Granddaddy missed going to college, I loved hearing him tell the story. I loved watching his face glow as he told of his sisters getting their degrees and my mother getting hers. At those times, I glimpsed true joy: the joy that comes from giving freely, loving completely. And I knew too, that I was an heir to Granddaddy’s sacrificial promise. He had created a legacy of hope.
Perhaps the Jews of the exile were not hanging out at Nebuchadnezzar High discussing future co-eds with their Babylonian buddies. Still, I bet those who listened to this promise from God, felt somewhat as I did every time I heard the plans my Granddaddy had made for me. I bet their hearts quickened at the thought of God preparing for their “welfare and not for [their] harm,” of their “future of hope.” Can’t you just picture their faces as they listened to the story? Look into their eyes. Watch as awareness dawns, “This promise is for me. Me!” One by one, they sense the real message , “God. God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. God. Loves. Me.”
The promise holds. The future is secure. Let us rejoice always.
Original publication: December 16, 2009
Gardner-Webb University Advent Devotional
An Advent message from the prophet Zephaniah "Sing aloud, O daughter Zion; shout, O Israel! Rejoice and exult with all your heart, O daughter Jerusalem! . . .At that time I will bring you home, at the time when I gather you; for I will make you renowned and praised among all the peoples of the earth, when I restore your fortunes before your eyes, says the Lord." Zep 3:14, 20 NRSV
"Happy Birthday to you! Happy Birthday to you!"
Twenty voices sang to the little guest of honor enthroned in her high chair. Anna Kate, celebrating her second birthday, celebrated her first in a very different place. Back then, she lay in a Russian orphanage awaiting her turn for nourishment and a little nurture as well.
"Happy Birthday Anna Kay-ate! Happy Birthday to you!"
Anna Kate beamed, looking around at all the people gathered just for her. A look of wonder filled her eyes as she said just one word, "Happy."
And in that moment, I beheld joy in the shape of a little girl. I got a snapshot, just a glimpse, of what it must have been like to see the face of Christ.
Christ had a second birthday too, you know. When Jesus was two years old and toddling about, do you think humanity realized the treasure in its midst? Of course Mary did, and Joseph. And surely other family members recognized that this baby was indeed extraordinary. But there must have been those who missed their chance to cradle joy incarnate in their arms. There must've been.
This advent season, we are called to embrace the coming of Christ. Don't miss your chance. Celebrate the joy of Christ today.
"Jesus, let us glimpse this day, joy incarnate. In the midst of our 21st century frenzy, slow us down that we might recognize your face, thereby experiencing the wonder of Advent."
By the tender mercy of our God,
the dawn from on high will break upon us,
to give light to those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death,
to guide our feet into the way of peace.’
Luke 1:78-79 NRSV
Back in the 1970’s, when $250,000 was an exorbitant amount to spend on an advertisement, Coca Cola Bottling Company assembled a cast and crew on a mountain in Italy to film what would become one of the most popular TV commercials of all time. In the ad, young people who appear to be from every tribe and nation, join in singing a song that even now, almost fifty years later, many people can recall.
I'd like to teach the world to sing
In perfect harmony.
I'd like to buy the world a Coke
And keep it company.
That's the real thing.
Back in the day, if you watched that commercial and did not shed a tear, you were in the minority. When you saw those youthful faces bright with hope, it was nearly undeniable: if everyone could just have a nice cold Coca-Cola, the world would most certainly be at peace.
In the above text, we read about what the world truly does need, and it’s not a soft drink. Old Zechariah, still glowing from the unexpected miracle of his newborn son, explains, “Through the heartfelt mercies of our God, God’s Sunrise will break in upon us, shining on those in the darkness, those sitting in the shadow of death, then showing us the way, one foot at a time, down the path of peace.” (Luke 1:78-79 The Message)
When I was six years old, my family moved to Wilson, NC where we would soon meet the Daniels family. Mrs. Daniels became one of my mother's closest friends, so our families socialized frequently. I was younger than the Daniels' youngest, so I was more of a tag-a-long than a peer; but still, I remember.
In the attached post, Anna Daniels Anderson recalls her younger sister, Beth. She'll tell you about the struggles Beth faced and the victories she celebrated. I'll leave that to her. But I'll say this: knowing Beth Daniels made me a better me. Because of Beth, I've never been intimidated by wheelchairs or braces, or any other physical difference. Shoot, I remember one time when Beth had some surgery or another and she had to be in this weird contraption for months (at least that's what it seemed like to me). We'd go over to the Daniels' house and Beth managed--even strapped to that bed/board/whatever-it-was--to participate in whatever we were doing. We told jokes, we giggled, we played games, we had fun just being little girls.
Beth never tried to teach me how to treat someone who had physical limitations. I never studied her like some kind of science project. We just shared a childhood. That's all. And that's everything. And I am grateful.
via Remembering Beth
Lately, I can hardly scroll through the headlines without feeling a sense of despair. It so often seems that we are moving away from the holy day Micah describes in today’s text. We witness the lame and afflicted overwhelmed by the waters of hurricane-borne floods. We see them shut out by institutional systems that deny their worth. We listen as wealthy power-brokers amplify their own significance while diminishing those Micah promises will be redeemed.
It’s into this cacophony that John the Revelator calls God’s people to turn away from luxury and influence and look to the authority of heaven. I don’t know about you, but it seems to me that John has been doing a bit too much stargazing. According to my newsfeed, the winning team is the one with money and power, not the one with poverty and disenfranchisement.
Reading these texts in the context of modern injustices, I listen as Micah speaks of labor pains and John speaks of destruction; I wonder: what will be born of this destruction? What redemption lies on the other side of all this misery and injustice?
Oft quoted American minister and reformer Theodore Parker (1810-1860) said “I do not pretend to understand the moral universe; the arc is a long one, . . . [but] it bends towards justice.” That’s a lovely sentiment, indeed one of my favorite quotes. But first, does that arc have to be so ridiculously long and second, what of the arc of pain? Where is it headed?
On December 5, 2016, Judge Clifton Newman declared a mistrial in the case of Michael Slager, the former Charleston, SC police officer accused of murdering 50-year-old Walter Scott. Judy Scott, Walter’s mother, surely stood on the arc of pain when she received the news of the verdict. Yet she strode forward and declared,
Today I'm not sad. And I want you to know why I'm not sad. Because Jesus is on the inside and I know that justice will be served because the God that I serve, he is able. . .. God is my strength and I know without a doubt that he is a just God and injustice will not prevail. . .. I’m just waiting on the Lord. I'm just gonna rest in the Lord. I'm gonna rest in the Lord ‘cause you see, . . . there's something about Jesus, when he's on the inside I fear not. . ..
And as she spoke, the arc of pain bent towards hope, towards righteousness.
Here at the beginning of the Advent season, as we await the coming of King Jesus, hear the good news: labor has begun and Hope will be born. “’Cause you see, . . . there’s something about Jesus.”
 According to his Wikipedia bio, Parker lent words to Lincoln’s Gettysburg Address and most certainly to Martin Luther King Jr’s “Where Do we Go from Here” speech when King said, “The arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends towards justice.”
Written for and published in Gardner-Webb University's 2017 Advent Devotional. Click the link to access the digital version.
The writers are associated with GWU in some way: undergrads, graduate students, post-graduates, faculty, staff, or alumni. I enjoy it every year!
(an Advent Devotion I wrote originally for Asheville's First Presbyterian Church's Advent Devotional booklet in 1999)
I always got the back seat. The very back seat. The one in our 1972 Chrysler Station Wagon that faced oncoming traffic. My older sister and younger brother sat in the middle seat, behind Mama on the passenger side and Daddy in the driver's seat. The windows, fogged from the cold, made fresh drawing slates for us to sketch Christmas trees decorated with thumb prints and lined with fingernail garlands. Eight-track tapes sang Feliz Navidad, Drummer Boy, and Silent Night. Finally! We were on our way to Christmas.
It was a tradition, that trip. Almost every year, the five of us traveled great distances to be with my Mother's family for Christmas. I got my big Raggedy Ann doll in Atlanta, my dollhouse in Tulsa, and Redhead, my very favorite doll, at home in Wilson, North Carolina. The trip was just part of Christmas.
I liked the trip. I liked my hideaway in the wayback. With Redhead and a paper sack full of books I could ride for hours reading and napping and reading some more. I liked the car games we played as a family. (I can still spot an X or a Z on a billboard a mile away!) I liked having Daddy (a Baptist pastor by trade) to ourselves with no one to minister to but us. I liked that Mother was free from her at-home responsibilities. In that station wagon we found hours of forced respite, hours of what would now be called quality time.
We would arrive at our destination, spill out of our car, and race to the bathroom or the fridge, whichever need was greatest. Tins of homemade goodies beckoned us to just taste one. Packages, their bows crushed from the journey, fought for a place under the tree. Hugs and laughter, "You're it!" "Come See!" Refreshed from hours of unhurried family and private time, we were ready to celebrate!
And so it is with advent, our journey to Christmas. My prayer is that this year, I will take time to prepare my heart for the celebration of Christ. This year, I want to spend the Advent season resting in Christ so that, when the time comes, I can fully celebrate Jesus' birth.
May the God of steadfastness and encouragement grant you to live in harmony with one another, in accordance with Christ Jesus, so that together you may with one voice glorify the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ. Welcome one another, therefore, just as Christ has welcomed you, for the glory of God.
To hear retailers tell it, the Christmas season started just before Halloween. From CVS to Sears, stores have been festooned in red and green for weeks. The virtual world is no better. Before we even had a chance to design our holiday cards on shutterfly.com, social media got in the holiday spirit by making a cacophonous noise about the Red Cup of Starbucks. Indeed, the world seems to define the holiday season by what will sell best, whether it’s novelty socks or news articles.
But the church defines the season in a different way. The Christian church celebrates the season of Advent for the four weeks preceding Christmas Day. But what is Advent? Too many Christians don't have any idea. So, in an effort to help remedy this, I thought I’d offer this somewhat academic post about the Advent season. Here you go: your very own Advent Primer.
History & Tradition
The name, “Advent,” comes from the Latin, adventus, meaning “coming.” During Advent, Christians focus on the incarnation of Jesus Christ and on Christ’s eventual return, thereby highlighting both the humanity and the divinity of Christ. Advent is a celebration of the mystery of the trinity, made manifest in Jesus Christ who was fully human and simultaneously fully God.
Interestingly, the church has not always recognized this season leading up to Christmas. By the fifth century, the church had begun toying with the idea of a time of preparation prior to the celebration of Christ’s birth. Modeled on the Lenten season (40 days of fasting prior to Easter), Advent was observed in the West long before the Eastern church adopted the idea. By the 11th century CE, most countries had set aside approximately four weeks before Christmas for focused liturgy, abstinence, and fasting. Today, both Catholic and protestant congregations observe Advent as a time of reflection and contemplation.
A part of Advent worship is the lighting of the Advent wreath. Traditionally, the wreath, circular in design and made of evergreen branches includes five candles: four around the wreath and a center Christ candle. The candles are lit in successive weeks, adding one each week until Christmas Eve when the Christ candle is lit along with the four candles encircling the wreath.
The Christ candle is white. The candles for weeks one, two, and four are either blue or purple, depending on the church’s preference or tradition. The candle for the third Sunday is pink or rose in color. Themes for Advent are hope, peace, joy, and love.
Hope, the First Sunday of Advent
The candle lit on this day is blue or purple and is called the Prophecy Candle. On the first Sunday of Advent, the church reflects on the coming Kingdom of Christ. Texts for this Sunday are eschatological in nature. According to www.webster.com, eschatology is “a branch of theology concerned with the final events in the history of the world or of humankind.” But, the focus of this day is hope, not fear or anxiety. You see, we can get glimpses of God’s kingdom every day. Celtic Christians call these glimpses “thin places,” places where heaven seems to touch earth. On this Sunday of Hope, we can rest in the knowledge that in Christ, the Kingdom of God will certainly come in the future; let us also anticipate encounters with these thin places in which we experience the Kingdom of God in the here and now.
Peace, the Second Sunday of Advent
On the Second Sunday, we light the blue or purple Bethlehem Candle and the church remembers the Hebrew Prophets. It may seem confusing that today’s candle is called the Bethlehem Candle and we’re talking about Hebrew Prophets, when last week’s candle was named Prophecy. The confusion arises from our misunderstanding of the work of Hebrew prophets. Often, modern people think of the verb “prophesy” as a synonym for “predict.” But an Old Testament prophet was not a kind of ancient soothsayer who predicted future events with eerie accuracy. Instead, they were truth-tellers, delivering divine words of warning and of redemption to the people of God. Today, we look to Bethlehem, where Redemption was born.
Joy, the Third Sunday of Advent
On the third Sunday of Advent, the pink Shepherd’s Candle is lit, the. The candle is pink in commemoration of an ancient tradition in the church. In the early days of the church, the seven-week term of Lent was the only recognized liturgical season. On the third Sunday of Lent, the church took a brief break from fasting to celebrate the joy that was forthcoming in Easter. On this day, the Pope gave a pink rose to a congregant. Churches today use the pink candle in tribute to this custom from the church’s earliest days and as a reminder of the coming season of Lent.
On this Sunday, the church recalls the ministry of John the Baptist. John connects the prophets of old who spoke of righteousness, to Jesus Christ who embodied it. John the Baptist resembled an Old Testament prophet, yet as contemporary with Jesus, his message carried a unique sense of urgency. The biblical account the birth of Christ places the shepherds on the scene at the time of the nativity. Their rush to the manger resulted from their understanding of the magnitude of the moment. There is only one more Sunday of Advent. Time is drawing nigh! On the first Christmas, the Shepherds understood the immediacy of the moment; and during his ministry, John the Baptist did too.
Love, the Fourth Sunday of Advent
The last Sunday before Christmas the church lights the remaining blue or purple candle, the Angel Candle. Texts focus on Mary, the mother of Jesus. As we await the coming of Christ, we recall the joyous proclamation of the angels and Mary’s faithful obedience to God. When the angel Gabriel delivered his message to her—that she, a virgin betrothed to be married, was pregnant with the son of God—Mary gave herself fully and completely to God’s plan for her life. On this fourth Sunday of Advent, we look to Mary’s example for guidance on how we might also fulfill God’s purpose for our lives.
Advent. It’s intentional and slow, not harried and fast. The world shouts, “Hurry up! You’re so far behind!” The church whispers, “Be still. Listen.” The world says, “You’re not doing enough! You’re running out of time.” The church says, “This is the moment. Be fully present in it.”
This Christmas, let’s stroll through Advent, enjoying the sights and sounds of the season and with hearts full of hope, peace, joy, and love, let us listen for the whispers of the Holy Spirit.
(Check Wikipedia for this year's Advent dates.)
Original Publication: July 31, 2012
“Oh, she’ll be fine!” “She’ll love it there!” “She is so ready for this new stage!” (And my personal favorite . . .) “Honey, it will be much worse on you than it will on her.”
True. Every single statement: absolutely true. In fact, because everyone knows these things are true, you will never need to say them to another mother whose child is going away to college. She already knows this stuff. Trust me (more on this in a later post).
But NOT saying something can be so difficult can’t it?
For example, if someone has a stomach bug, it takes true restraint for me NOT to tell them to drink plenty of water. Everyone knows that gastrointestinal upset in the extreme can lead to dehydration. I know that everyone knows this. But I feel the urge to tell them, just in case they’ve been living under a rock.
Here’s another one. I’ve actually tried not to say this; I can’t do it. My kids leave this house, keys in their hands, and I’m going to say . . . (say it with me now) . . . “Drive carefully!” I can’t help myself.
There are more critical times than these though, when people seriously do not need our comments.
Like when my sister was pregnant. She had a highly uncommon obstetric liver disorder that caused her to itch constantly, from the inside out. It was miserable, plus it was life-threatening to her and to her baby. She finally got some relief from an internationally renowned specialist and both she and the baby managed just fine, but here’s the thing: long before any doctors knew what was causing her symptoms, complete strangers would come to her aid.
“Have you tried lanolin? That stuff is amazing!”
“No, go with cocoa butter. It’s better.”
“Girl you need to get yourself some hydrocortisone cream. That’ll take care of you.”
Naturally, she had tried all these things and dozens more before she got her diagnosis. She knew all that and was painfully tired of hearing such things. In fact, not only did she not need to hear their advice, she really needed not to talk about her maddening condition at all.
The truth is, people usually do not need us to correct, advise, counsel, or admonish them. They need only for us to be with them: completely—silently—with them.
In the monthly newsletter that I send out to subscribers . . . Wait, what? You're not subscribed? Well, you better get on that right away! There's a subscribe form at the bottom of the mobile screen or on the side of the laptop screen. Go ahead. I'll wait.
Okay, got that done? Excellent.
Anyway in my monthly newsletter (it's short, about a two minute read), I offer short info-bites, cute beagle pics, and something I call an "Aileenism." (A friend--shout out to Destiny--labeled my oft-repeated sayings Aileenisms years ago. It stuck.) In celebration of a full year of Aileen Goes On, the Newsletter, I give you all 12 Aileenisms.
Oh also, if you already subscribe, would you comment below and tell me which newsletter feature you like best? Thanks! You're the best. No really: you are literally the absolute best!
I use this daily and I find it quite helpful in stressful situations. For example, it helps minimize my annoyance with such things as slow moving traffic (maybe there's a wreck ahead) gum-smacking cashiers (maybe he's trying to quit smoking), or obnoxious fans at football games who scream at the players even though their team is already 50 points ahead and continue their disruptive behavior through the marching band show (maybe they should stay themselves right on home until they learn how to act right . . . ) Okay so maybe I need to work on this a bit more, but you get the drift.
Saying "I can't" shuts out the possibility of success. Instead, choose one of these options.
It calms the haggard parent, soothes the anxious spouse, and encourages the overworked employee (or employer). What is this wonder word, you ask?
"What can I do to help?"
Or its identical siblings:
“How can I help you?”
“What else can I do?”
“What can I do for you?”
Try it. It's magic!
And once your children, spouse, or co-workers learn the question, all you have to do is remind them. Such subtleties as these are sure to bring about instant results.
I have never thought that I had all the answers. Frequently, when I state my opinion, I add, "I could be wrong." I've been wrong many times in my life--including times when I felt absolutely certain I was right. Realizing that I could be wrong frees me to consider other opinions. In these days, when our opinions polarize us into static affiliations, how lovely it is to enter into balanced dialog. Maybe I'm wrong, but it surely works for me.
As a mom--and okay as a spouse, sister, daughter, you name it--I have, on the (not so) rare occasion, said too much. You?
When we are in the midst of any conflict, what most of us want is to hear some version of, "You are so right. I am completely at fault. Thank you for sharing your wisdom with me. I am blessed to know someone so brilliant and generous." Unfortunately, the fact that this pretty much NEVER happens does not dissuade us from pursuing that end.
At some point, I learned that if I stop before I'm finished, I have much better results. By not backing my loved one into an ideological corner, I create the opportunity for continued dialogue. Additionally, I give us both a chance to think about what has been said already. Of course, it is not easy for me to quit talking before I've said absolutely every single solitary thing I could say on the matter. But I try to remember that a few well-chosen words are always more effective than a monotonous lecture. When I do, I bite my tongue, and stop talking. Even if I'm not finished.
In this time of extreme opinions and divisive conversations, I find it helpful to ask myself the question, "With which part of this can I agree?" Like this:
Comment: Majoring in History is stupid. You'll never get a job in that!
Response: Yes, some people do say that. That's not my opinion, but I can see why you think that.
Comment: University of Academics is the best school in the country! You'd be crazy to go anywhere else when you can go there!
Response: Yes, University of Academics is considered an excellent school and I am pleased I was accepted there.
Comment: Low fat diets are better than low carb ones.
Response: Yes, I know a lot of people have succeeded using that strategy.
In time, you can begin to disclose more details of your opinion, but start by naming something you can affirm; then move into the more contentious aspects of the conversation. Return to this method frequently throughout the discussion.
Admittedly, it was Dr. Phil's idea; his life law #8 is "We teach people how to treat us. Maya Angelou is quoted as saying something something similar: "When someone shows you who they are, believe them the first time."
In any case, when my kids were young, I used the statement above to stop unwanted behavior. As in, "You are acting so ugly right now. Did you meant to teach me that you shouldn't be allowed to stay up late?" Or "I'm learning that I should not let you go on sleepovers, because when you come home you are grumpy."
Over time, the statement morphed into a sort of shorthand that stopped the kids before their actions got the better of them.
"You sure you want to teach me that?"
"You're teaching me something."
"Oooh! I'm really learning right now!"
In no time, they got pretty good at hitting reverse just as soon as they heard those words. A beautiful thing for a parent, that's for sure.
I can't remember if someone else taught me this saying or if I read it in a children's book or something. There's even a slight chance I came up with it myself--doubtful, but possible. In any case, it's a great question to help kids (or adults) deal with bullies. It works like this.
Bully: "You are a poo-poo head!"
Person to self: If this bully says this 1000 times, will it make it true?
Person realizes that there's no such thing as a poo-poo head & that the bully can't change that no matter how many times the statement is made.
Person dismisses insult.
For me, this kind of exaggeration shows just how impotent the bully really is. In fact, it strips all their power away and turns bullies into nice, regular people. Well. Maybe not exactly nice, but better anyway.
Children go through a phase when they are absurdly preoccupied with what is and is not fair. Parents, it's a battle you cannot win once your frontal lobe is fully developed. Just don't try. Here's what I came up with to combat the inevitable.
Question: "How come he gets to do it and I don't? That's not fair!"
Response: "True. But then the fair only comes once a year. It's not September, so you are out of luck."
Sarcastic? Totally. Flippant? Absolutely. But the response doesn't leave much room for discussion.
Otherwise I'd get caught in a loop like this.
Child: "How come he gets to do it and I don't? That's not fair!"
Me: "Well his friend invited him, and yours didn't."
Child: "Well I could invite my friend."
Me: "Then I would have to drive."
Child: "You always drive Favorite Child of the Day! That's not fair!"
Me: "That is inaccurate."
Child: "It is not."
(And on and on until I finally give in and let the child do what I don't want them to do while setting a precedent that whining is okay.)
So when your beloved says, "That's not fair," be sympathetic and be genuine when you respond, "Yep. You're right, it's not. But then the fair only comes once a year." At the very least the kids will be stymied by your reply and have to take a minute to figure it out.
In keeping with the message of this Aileenism, I confess, this is not an original idea. I mean, Moses had it engraved in stone, so there's that. Also, it's one of those "DUH" things that everyone knows, right? But the thing is, we so often fail to comply. We tell little white lies or half-truths (which, contrary to popular opinion, are not truth). We say things like . . .
I emailed you! You didn't get it?
You should have gotten that by now--stupid USPS.
I never speed.
Traffic! Sorry I'm late.
And the ultimate lie we've all told: "I don't have time!" What we usually mean is, "This is not my priority." But then that's next month's Aileenism: "We only have time for our priorities." True statement.
"I don't have time!"
"I wish I could, but I'm too busy!"
"You're [fill in the blank]? I don't have time for stuff like that!"
Have you ever said something like that? I know I have. But the thing is, we make time for the things that matter most to us.
People argue this point with me saying things like, "I have to work overtime or I would lose my job!" And I say, "Maybe. But not going to your kids' orchestra concert or school play could cause you to lose your relationship with them." In this case, the fear of unemployment is greater than the fear of being estranged from your children.
Another argument I've heard is, "You do not understand! I am slammed from 5 am until 10 pm 7 days a week. I cannot add anything into my schedule!" To that, I answer, "No you cannot. Your schedule is already full of your priorities." This person would need to downgrade something, remove it from the daily schedule, and then add the new obligation.
Me? I read a lot. That's because reading is a priority for me. I don't clean my house as often as I should. Not a priority--not when there are books yet to be read.
See what I mean? We only have time for our priorities! So, if you're spending time on things you don't consider valuable, then think about making some changes. Priorities--they're what come first.
Back in the 90's, I worked for a small regional college: University of Science and Arts of Oklahoma--Oklahoma's ONLY public liberal arts university! (I was a recruiter.) At my suggestion, we held the college's very first visitation day for potential students. The event was well attended and was considered a success by the university. Me? I was still reeling from the mistake I had made six weeks previously.
We had designed these way cool invitations and though we had a shoestring budget, we got permission to have them printed professionally. They arrived and looked perfect! Well, mostly. One problem: when I okayed the proof, I had failed to notice the incorrect date emblazoned in the middle of every invitation.
My mistake cost the university money we didn't have; we had to trash the originals and reprint them with the correct information. Today, I literally cannot remember much of anything about that event other than those flubbed-up invitations. I could describe those down to the font size! I was absolutely mortified by my error.
Here's the thing, though: I have NEVER done that again. Whether I am ordering t-shirts or announcements, for work or for personal use, I check the proof carefully and have another person or four check it as well. I learned from my mistake. The successes I experienced that day are forgotten. But my failure? That lesson has stayed with me forever.
Messed up lately? Consider it a life lesson. Value your mistake as a step on the journey to a better you. Mainly, be sure that you don't waste it! Cause that? That'd be a huge mistake!