TWO LISTS FOR 2019

     It’s about the time that most New Year’s resolutions start to disappear into the annals of personal history, if they haven’t already. I make them still, but I realize that they are usually a whimsical promise—a tradition not to be taken too seriously, even though, at the moment they are made, they seem quite intentional. However, it does make me wonder about just how my life would be different if I actually followed through with them.

     It’s not that I never stick with them, it’s just that it’s more the exception than the rule. And it’s also not that I don’t need to make self-improvements because I surely do. On the seemingly typical, fanciful side, this year I said that I would learn to paint, learn Italian, move into the realm of more classic jazz on the guitar and a bit away from folk music, and focus on healthy living. So far, none of those are on the way of being achieved, except minor strides in healthy living. But then, healthy living has mostly been true of me anyway—except for loving cream donuts, ice cream, cake, pizza, pasta, fried chicken and an occasional burger and fries (everything in moderation is the rule of thumb there).

     I will say this, for those who doubt my potential for achieving new things: the year is young and the possibility of my getting around to learning to paint and learning Italian and getting more into jazz on the guitar is still within reach of my good intentions. I’ll get back to you in December.

The list of resolutions I just mentioned, though, I describe as being on the typical, fanciful side, but there is another list which I made and have pretty much kept to myself. You see, the first list has to do with outward achievements—obvious and observable things that people could evaluate if they wanted.  The second list, though (which has become my primary list for 2019), has to do with inward things which no one would necessarily notice at all.

     While we were at a lake house in Italy, I had plenty of time to do some deep thinking, which I did. I thought about what I wanted most in life. I want to be happy, healthy, fulfilled, and at peace within no matter what. I’ve talked about that for a long time, and I know that millions of people also probably want that too. Ultimately, to get to that point 24/7 has a very low probability factor. However I believe that there are things that can get us closer to it. And I don’t think that they are big things either.

     Actually I see them as well within our reach, and surprisingly they have more to do with letting go than taking on. Here’s a list I’m committed to let go of:

·Letting my ego be in charge of my emotions

·Getting hung up about petty differences that really don’t matter

·Needing to always be right

·Feeling that I always need to prove my 

 self-worth

·Unnecessarily hurrying in doing things

      (Fred Rogers wrote a song that goes 

      “I like to take my time…”)

·Thinking too much about getting older

Those are just a few of a bigger list that I’m trying to recognize as things that interfere with my personal wellbeing. I’m actually trying to become conscious of unnecessary and disrupting personal traits which I have taken on through the years to the degree that I accept them as ordinary and as who I am rather than the internal enemies of being happy, healthy, fulfilled, and at peace within.  

NO MATTER WHAT WE MAY THINK

Ponte Sant’ Angelo (PSA) Methodist Church

          It’s been several weeks since I have posted anything on my blog. That’s because we were away in Italy for the Christmas and New Year holidays. We got back on January 7, but both Chris and I came home sick and have just started to recover. Actually I went to Italy sick and had a slight, albeit brief, recovery that enabled me to enjoy many of the things we did.

          Among those things was going to a Christmas Eve Lessons and Carols Service at a small Methodist Church in the heart of Rome. It occupied a small part of an inner city building along the Tiber River. The pastor and his wife live upstairs, and they graciously invited us to go up on the terrace (at our own risk) and have an overlook view of the city at night. It was amazing!

          The service itself was very plain and simple, and didn’t begin to resemble a Lessons and Carols service with which we were familiar back home. There was no passing the light of Christ through the congregation and no anthem to further stir the soul.  In fact, the service was supposed to begin at 4 p.m., but they were still organizing things, like who was going to read what and what carols we would be singing. But eventually things got underway and we were able to somewhat immerse ourselves in the experience of a Roman Methodist Christmas (the emphasis is on “somewhat”).

          I don’t mean to make disparaging remarks about it—only that it was different than what we were used to and hoping for since it is one of our most treasured nights of the year. Plus, for me personally, it was the first Christmas Eve after, lo these many years, that I was not the one leading the service but sitting in the congregation.

  

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Rev Dr Tim and Mrs. Angela Macquiban

        At any rate, there is something I need to say about all this. Reflecting on that experience since then, I have thought about one of the most important aspects of that evening. It is not important what my personal impression was nor is it relevant to the sacredness of the service itself. What really matters reaches beyond my meager judgment (which says more about me than about the service anyway). What really matters is that on December 24, 2018, the congregation of a small church in the heart of Rome, Italy gathered to celebrate and remember the birth of a child whose life has impacted both the lives of believers and even nonbelievers in a multitude of ways. 

          The point is that the sincerity, the heartfelt devotion, and spiritual intention of that service and of those who are part of that congregation are sacred in and of themselves. Like so many things in life, what counts most is the passion within the human soul and not the judgement of any observer.

          By the way, as small as it may seem, this church has a great and far-reaching ministry in feeding the homeless crouching in doorways and along the streets of that ancient city. Thus the message of the Christ Child is illuminated by their presence--Thus they do, in fact, pass the light of Christ after all beyond their sanctuary to and among the people of Rome.