Mackenzie Standing

My brother Travis played Joseph in the Christmas pageant this year. He was not excited about it. One of my favorite traditions of the Christmas season is that on Christmas Eve Eve, December 23rd -- ironically enough, Travis's birthday -- our church family gets together to begin the Christmas season with worship. Traditionally, this means we act out the Christmas story, with the roles getting assigned on the spot. People walk through the doors, having no idea that in a matter of moments they might just be led off to costuming to become an angel or shepherd or sheep. Even if they choose not to play a role, there still is opportunity galore for audience participation. There's no rehearsal, no guarantees that technology will work or the actors will get all their lines out, but there's a whole lot of laughter and an atmosphere that I think would have a strong correlation with the first Christmas -- a little chaotic and the sense that you really don't know what will happen

What can I give him, poor as I am? If I were a shepherd, I would bring a lamb; if I were a Wise Man, I would do my part; yet what can I give him: give my heart. --Christina Rossetti, "In the Bleak Midwinter" I love giving gifts. One of my favorite aspects of the Christmas season is the way it creates space to honor people and show them our appreciation. As much as I think that Christmas shouldn't be focused on the presents -- because it shouldn't -- and that there's great benefit that comes with being content with what you have -- because there is -- there's a certain beauty in being able to give my friend a present just for being  her,  and no one thinks it's strange. I appreciate that. The problem, though, is that I am  not  a fantastic giver of gifts. Attempting to find the perfect present that both means something to the other person and has sentimental value in our relationship (always a plus) stresses me out to no end. I still have no idea

For to us a child is born, to us a son is given, and the government will be on his shoulders. And he will be called  Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace. -Isaiah 9:6 The first Bible verse I ever memorized was Matthew 6:34. Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own. My little twelve-year-old heart, still reeling from the fact that Jesus loved me  and desperately trying, in her own perfectionist way, to incorporate that love into her life, clung to this verse. Do not worry, the verse says. So simple. Except... When it's not. I have struggled with anxiety for years. Panic attacks. Hyperventilation. Sobbing myself to sleep over things that are really not important. Stressing for days over events that were in the past, or events that never happened. Over time, it's become much more manageable. As I've grown more into who God made me to be and placed my identit

There's a deep-set love in my heart for traditions. Whether it's hunting for a live Christmas tree with my family every year, stopping at the same gas stations on road trips, recreating pictures or making sure every trip home is marked by a Wendy's Frosty, my pattern-hungry brain can make any similar event or date important. I love traditions. Many of them are so silly that I refuse to mention them to other people (what, you don't feel a compulsive need to go to dinner at 6pm every Wednesday?), but trust me, I notice them. Perhaps that's the reason why I so appreciate the church calendar-- Advent and Lent in particular. I can root myself deep in these traditions that are far older than me and will last far longer than I will. They remind me that these times in the year have far more significance than my own personal calendar-- that December means more than last minute study sessions, final examinations, and gingerbread house building, as good as those tradit