Wednesday, December 22, 2010

My Life is a Snow Globe

You know how when you look at a snow globe everything is still and quiet? And then you shake the hell out of it, and chaos rains in the form of all the "snow" falling everywhere? I often feel that way about life.
One of my biggest projects since I got home Sunday night has been to go through all of the things in each of my parent's houses in efforts to be completely moved out by April on my next trip back. At mom's I came across my old snow globe collection, tucked and buried away in my closet--a happy collection of memories throughout my life.

I received my first snow globe as a gift from my dad on a trip to Yellowstone National Park some time in elementary school. It was a lone bison set in a meadow, with yellowed rocks surrounding the outer base. I had fallen in love with those majestic animals and thought this ceramic trinket with it's swirling glitter would be the perfect souvenir to take home with me to remember this trip. Each of my sisters and I were able to pick out one item from the gift shop on our two-week National Parks trip and I couldn't imagine anything better than this.

I was fascinated with turning the globe upside down and shaking it, watching the glitter-snow fall upon the beast while I examined the intricate detail in his hair and fur. I had examined every one on the shelf--choosing the one that did not have an air bubble in the top, the one without any paint chipped off. Once we were back home, I would look at it as a magical world that I wished I could step inside of (this was at the beginning of my love for National Parks), and this was how my love of snow globes and my collection began.

Over the years, my collection has expanded to include around thirty snow globes. Some of them I purchased at different momentous occasions in my life, but most of them were given to me as a gift from a friend or family member who knew about my collection. With some dating all the way back to elementary school, not only do the snow globes themselves tell a story, but they also remind me of a person or time period in my life. One was brought back to me as a birthday present from my best friend who traveled to Europe on a family vacation--showing how strong a friendship it was for someone to use their precious baggage space on a usually seemingly-silly trinket. Another was given to me as a souvenir from Disney World, marking the trip that was the very last time I ever saw my grandmother. It is moments and events like those that will live on forever through that snow globe. For these reasons, I want to make sure I always take care of my col lection properly to preserve them.

As I continued to look through the neglected globes on my shelf, I noticed the water in some of them turning from clear to yellow. Others have bubbles forming inside and a few appear to be leaking. The majority though are still in mint condition. As I noticed these changes, I started making mental notes to make repairs. It was then I realized, not only do I have no idea how to make these repairs by myself--I like the reality of the imperfections.

My life feels like a snow globe right about now. On a slightly less-than-my-usual-optomistic-self side, I'm one of those little figures trapped in a little world. Occasionally I wander up, tap on the glass, and proclaim, "It's time to get the heck out of here!"

I've been doing better with my new Colorado life. I created a little routine and have been doing better with handling the transition, and now someone picked up the snow globe and shook it. Perhaps it was because of the anticipation of going home...who knows. Either way, when life changes are new and exciting, they are also stressful and complicated.

Any big choices in life are supposed to be with confidence in whatever huge leaps of faith you are taking, and instead I find myself hanging out in my snow globe where occasionally someone picks me up and shakes me. Snow globes are volatile. You put yourself on a shelf--available for the shaking or the rattling of the cage, if you will.

So I guess here's what I'm learning about life in the snow globe. It's largely about Faith. Faith in the prayers you've said that haven't been answered. Faith in the people who surround you in your little world. Faith that at some point, you'll get yourself out of the globe and everything and everyone will stop shaking. Life will be peaceful again. Until then though, and here's the hard part, you have to have Faith that you'r e in the right hands.

Tuesday, December 21, 2010

Star of Wonder

Last night, Melinda and I had a quality sister night out, complete with Subway and a Christmas program at a church in Phoenix. When we arrived at the (mega-)church, we were expecting something amazing because Dad has told us a little about some of the animals that were in the show and we knew Monica was playing in the pit, but we were not at all ready for:
  • A 40-foot singing Christmas tree
  • Silk aerial artists
  • A full orchestra and choir
  • A host of flying angels
  • Pyrotechnics
  • Confetti cannons
  • High School Musical-style performers
  • Rappelling
  • Break-dancing toy soldiers
  • Bing Crosby (via vintage video)
  • A stunning laser light show
  • Exotic animals-including camels, a tiger, an elephant, and a kangaroo
This was not your grandmother's church Christmas play. That is, unless Granny attends Phoenix First Assembly. We were completely amazed and impressed by everything we saw, and the show was QUITE good! The story began with a little girl who is sitting in her bed wishing upon a star when she realizes she has everything she wants. The star (another little girl--both of whom were FANTASTIC actresses) flies in from the ceiling and takes the girl on a journey between three seemingly-unrelated families (you find how they are linked in the end) to try and help them find the holiday spirit and pass on the good news.

My favorite dialogue throughout the show was a singing interaction near the end between Sam (the girl) and the Star...

SAM: "Twinkle, twinkle, little star, how I wonder what you are!"
STAR: "Star of wonder, star of light, star of royal beauty bright!"

I have always been fascinated by stars and the sky--learning about constellations and the stories they tell, dating back to the beginning of time. One of my favorite things to do is lie in the middle of nowhere and just watch the sky in amazement as the stars pass by.
"Let there be lights in the expanse of the sky to separate the day from the night, and let them serve as signs to mark seasons and days and years," -- Genesis 1:14.
On my way home last night after meeting up with some old friends after the show, I was lucky enough for the clouds to let the moon shine through so I could see the lunar eclipse. After some research, I found out that this was the first total lunar eclipse on the winter solstice since 1638. (Luckily we don't have to wait that long for the next time in 2094). Through some more research, I accidentally came across a star-sky video and other papers with evidence to believe there was a total lunar eclipse on the day of Christ's death.

How completely AWEsome that there is a new moon on the magnificent day of birth. New moon. New life. The Star of Bethlehem completely illuminated in the sky, even more bright with the lack of light from a moon. Now, the counterpart event: a total lunar eclipse. Full moon. Full life. Blotted out with an amber glow, almost as if blotted out by blood.

I think the stars are awesome evidence of a greater work and an additional purpose, all a part of the great celestial poem.