Marla's Alphabet Soup

What if the New Year didn’t start on January 1? Thanks Pope Gregory XIII for helping those of us with orderly minds and real problems with Leap Year for setting the Gregorian calendar. But what if we celebrated the New Year on the Lunar New Year like South Korea? Or China, which celebrates on the second new moon following the winter solstice? Or if we celebrated, akitu, on the first new moon after the spring equinox like the people of Mesopotamia in 2000 BC? * (*thanks Google for all this info.)

Personally, I find January 1 cold, dark, and tiring. The first new moon after the spring equinox when the sun starts coming back earlier, the days are longer, the ground greens up, and the early spring bulbs poke out makes so much more sense to me. I could feel a real stirring of new beginnings from within if we waited until spring. Just sayin’.

And oh man, starting 2025 gently like I aspired to do is not happening quite like I imagined. So far on this first day of the New Year I have experienced all the feels. The dissonance of reports from New Orleans of deliberate violence while watching College Game Day and taking down the Christmas tree is difficult to digest. Today is also my husband’s birthday. It is hard to make holiday birthdays special, but we’re gonna try! We continue to be dismayed by my very sick inlaws and their health journey this season.

But as I said about 2024, I make choices about what to hold on to. I choose to be delighted by texted pictures of my sister and her family in Disney Land. I choose to find happiness in texted pictures from our exchange students’ family skiing in Austria. I choose to enjoy all the likes and birthday wishes sent to my hubs on the book of face and IG. These lovely expressions help me hold appropriate space for those suffering from the ugliness and unfairness of life. I can process the dissonance and respond more effectively when I have room to think and a lens of love to view through.

The world keeps on keeping on—good, bad, or ugly. All we can do is what we can do. Keep doing the next right thing my darlings and Micah 6:8, “what does the Lord require of you but to act justly, to love mercy, and to walk humbly with your God.”

Regardless of when and where and how you mark the New Year, I hope 2025 is full of good things for you from Jan 1 through Dec 31.

Peace and Love, Marla

Dear Friends,

For so many, this has been the toughest year yet. Inflation is rampant. War continues. Loved ones have died. Families remain unreconciled. The election was traumatizing. It was not an easy year.

As I close the book on 2024, I am encouraged by the lightness in my step and the opening of my heart. I am not immune to the heartbreak of 2024, I promise. I chose to work through my disappointments, the worries, and the unkindnesses of others. I chose to see silver linings, new beginnings, and alternative endings when life did not go as planned. I chose to believe I always had a choice. I could love or I could hate. I could persevere or I could despair. I could rage or I could show compassion. I could choose whether or not to engage.

I am choosing to leave 2024 softly. I choose to disengage and seclude myself from the fray with a glass of water (or wine) and a book. I choose to go to yoga and take my vitamin C and renew my intentions for love. I choose to take outdoor walks with cleansing breaths. I choose to nap when I’m tired and eat when I’m grumpy. Self-care may be an overused “buzz word”, but that doesn’t make it wrong.

As I let 2024 go, I am preparing for 2025 gently. I will be kind to myself and others. I will be intentional with my time and talents. I will create space for personal growth—and also healing. These are not resolutions (I cast those off a while back), but spaces—clearly marked and clearly intended for new love and new learning and new acceptance.

So welcome 2025. I look forward to our time together. May we learn from each other and lean on each other in the coming days. May we dance together through the good and not so good. May we soak in the bluebird days of sunshine, so the blizzard days of gray do not overtake us. I will hold space for you friends as you hold space for me. Together may we find more likeness than unlikeness and love, love, love all the time, always.

❤️ Marla

There are few things I love as much as my yearly Christmas tree. Always a live tree. Always 8’ or taller. Always color lights. I could go into the why, but let’s go with I have my reasons.

The memories that decorate my tree sustain me all year long. I have ornaments from old friends, parents, children, siblings, my childhood. Every year as I unwrap each ornament I spend a few moments thinking of the person or persons involved with that ornament.

Sometimes, not every ornament makes the tree. But for the most part, there is a spot for every ornament.

My mother loved Christmas. She had beautiful trees. Mamma gave us ornaments every year. She encouraged the making and giving of ornaments between my friends and myself from the time I could hold a bottle of glue. My mother also created a crismon tree at our church. Our children and youth designed all kinds of ornaments based on Christian symbols. I was so proud of that tree.

My father also loved Christmas, more than most people. He loved playing Santa. He encouraged and perpetuated our Santa story long after other children lost their faith in the jolly guy in a red suit. I have many memories of old Santa’s tricks that were more real to me then than today’s Norad online tracking system is today.

Even after my parents’ divorce and the subsequent decade long winter storm in my heart, the Christmas tree was my tender spot. I could think of happy times and remember special moments that may or may not have included them.

I have two very distinct memories of Christmas tree crazy with my friends! Once, at a party at my house, we all piled into someone’s car and went joy riding through the neighborhood. We parked and jumped a neighbor’s fence, circled their lighted outdoor tree and recreated our own Charlie Brown’s Christmas “Hark the Herald…” moment.

Another time, my sister, my oldest friend, and I were running around my friend’s neighborhood. Gasping for air we ducked under this enormous tree in the neighborhood all decked with outdoor lights. We could practically stand up under it. We enjoyed what felt like an illicit moment away from the required “Christmas visit” of our parents. It was cold and I don’t remember what we were doing there at all, but I remember it happening!

I love to turn off the lights and just sit and look at the tree. It brings me peace and happy thoughts and a smile. I don’t care about what is or isn’t under the tree. I care about what’s on the tree. Every grade school ornament. Every church school ornament. Every family picture-turned-ornament. Every ornament gift exchange. Every homeade dough ornament. Every pipe cleaner, cross-stitch, bead, glitter, and popsicle stick.

If you are having a low moment this season, I encourage you to take a minute and sit by a tree. Look at the lights. Smell it (if it’s real). Think about the time and dedication someone took to make those ornaments. Even if it is a commercial tree, someone had to design and decorate it. I hope you can find a sweet memory to sustain you through all the feels of the holidays.

Love Y’all, Marla

Today we performed our Christmas Cantata at church. It was lovely and full of joy and praise and wonder and thanks. I just had the best time. I love to sing.

As a chorus/choir participant almost all my life, I am well-versed in singing Christmas carols out of season. We start rehearsals for Christmas concerts in September!

So in true stream of consciousness, Marla fashion, I started thinking about what makes a Christmas carol a Christmas carol. Honestly, alot of Christmas carols could be anytime hymns! As I listened to Celine Dion’s recording of “O Come all ye Faithful” this morning on my way to church, I couldn’t help but wonder, why we don’t sing this hymn during other times of the liturgical calendar? It is clearly not only about Christmas.

Adeste fideles, Latin for “O come faithful ones” could easily be invoked at any time. In fact, according to hymary.org, the authorship and actual date of writing for “Adeste Fideles” (O Come All Ye Faithful) is unknown. (https://hymnary.org/text/o_come_all_ye_faithful_joyful_and_triump)

Verse One,

O come all ye faithful joyful and triumphant.

O Come ye to Bethlehem. Come and behold him, born the King of angels. Oh come let us adore him Christ the Lord.

Is this not a call to worship? It could so easily be a call to worship on any Sunday morning.

Verse Two,

God of God, Light of Light,
lo, He abhors not the virgin’s womb; very God, begotten not created. Oh come let us adore him.

Yes this is about the virgin birth, but it’s also about God choosing to come among us to bring forth his light.

Verse Three,

Sing, choirs of angels; sing in exultation; sing, all ye citizens of heaven above! 
Glory to God, all glory in the highest!

This verse is about communcating with the Lord. Singing is an expression of praise, prayer, joy, lament, and every feeling in between. And angels are among us all the time. They appear numerous times in the Bible—not only at Christmastime.

Verse Four,

Yeah Lord we greet thee, On this happy morning. Jesus to thee be all glory given. Word of the Father, Now in flesh appearing. O Come let us adore him, Christ the Lord.

You could make a case for “O Come all ye Faithful” to be an Easter hymn. We, the faithful, have come full circle experiencing the birth, life, death, and ressurection of Jesus.

We are so ingrained to think of “O Come all ye Faithful” as a Christmas hymn, but imagine if it wasn’t. What an amazing promise-filled song. It is a call to worship. It is a promise to the faithful. It is a command to praise and adore the promise of God.

I might have “O Come All Ye Faithful” sung at my funeral! I envision myself entering heaven to this beautiful hymn. There I am with all the angels and they are singing for me and my heart is overcome with the joy of promises fulfilled—and finally understood. Sing it at my funeral y’all. I want everyone there to share in my joy. No tears for me, I’m singing with the angels.

So on this second Sunday of Advent (between the candles of Love and Joy), we the faithful, express our hope through Adoration.

Ever on the journey. Love Y’all, Marla

Usually by this time of year I am readying my Advent wreath, finishing my month long gratitude journal, or simply basking in the glow of having all four of us together for a whole week. This year, I keep waiting for “the moment” but it hasn’t happened—yet. Thanksgiving is later in the calendar. The Christmas push is already on us. And my family togetherness is still two days away. We have been like four ships passing in the night for weeks!

Truthfully, I’ve been floating along on various waves for a while now. I have been known to say, sometimes we just have to by buoyed by others. When we aren’t in a place to fully participate or engage in the hard work of the faithful, it is okay to be carried by others—for a while. I still stand by that thought, but ever since Covid, I have felt my attachments weakening. Without my tribe of the faithful, I have become unmoored. Floating along is not the same as being carried. Floating does not have connection. There is no gravity to give it weight.

That ends today.

I yearn for the gravitational pull of community and commitment. It is time for me to reattach myself to those who have carried me. So I will, and I begin with gratitude. And then I will sing. And I will keep showing up at church with my fellow believers. And that tether will become stronger—not harder or more rigid—but supple and flexible enough to wrap around my heart and center me on the axes of Love of God and Love of Neighbor.

The gravity of gratitude is unfailing. When all else fails, start with a list. In the darkest moment or merely a day of gray, begin with one statement of gratitude. The amount of energy generated with a simple thank you is enormous. When our children are tiny we teach them to say please and thank you. As they grow we ask them to reflect on what they are thankful for. If we are lucky, we will receive unprompted thanks from time to time from them for food and shelter and gas and tuition. Even as they begin to leave home for long periods of time, we sense the gratitude behind the weekly calls and the signs of relief from parental intervention (wanted or unwanted).

Dear ones, as we draw closer to the table—or however you celebrate Thanksgiving—let gravity be your guide. Anchor yourself to thankfulness for small things like your favorite kind of cranberry sauce, or a good weather day so you can escape outside away from the fray, or airpods hidden by your hair, or the knowledge that you don’t have to be here again for 365 days. If this is not the holiday for you, be kind to yourself. If this holiday is for you, use the time to enlarge your heart and store up gratitude for a time when you will need it. Families are complicated. Life is hard. We can rely on the gravity of gratitude for our friends and fellow believers and the kindness of strangers to keep bitterness away.

Gratitude is simple. It can be trusted.

Love Y’all, Marla

My friends may be wondering, “where is the blog post about the election?” As much as I enjoy social media and I like to use a blog to share my thoughts, I haven’t been able to summon the energy to write about the election. Whatever I say, someone will make sure that I know, that they know, how ultimately wrong I am to have my own thoughts and feelings. I have read so many articles analyzing this election that my eyes are going to melt. I have heard so much vitriol my ears won’t stop ringing. People who are my friends are yelling at each other, not just on social media, but at social gatherings! People who I find to be normal, kind, people loving people still are spewing forth all kinds of nonsense at one another.

I say, Enough. We had an election. We will have another one in four years. Stop spending your energy in the wrong place. This election was about many different things to many different people. The pendulum of American politics is ever swinging.

Don’t over-simplify the American voters. They can be pragmatists. They can be dogmatists. They can be unaffiliated, party-liners, or single-issue voters. They can be first-time voters or every-time-the-polls-are-open voters. I myself am rather complicated. The American voter is as varied as America itself!

Our elected officials reflect the full spectrum of America from far-left to far-right and all points in between. But the power of the elected official is given by us—not taken from us. Mandate or not, the declared winner of any election becomes the representative for the entire constituency. We have serious work ahead as a nation in holding our leaders in all three branches of government accountable whether elected, appointed by the elected, or confirmed by the elected. The future of our Republic demands we pay attention and fight for it.

And that is all I’m going to say.

Still a patriot.

Still a voter.

Love y’all, Marla

Once upon a time

Our exchange student went home yesterday. We are all sad, but happy for J and his family to be reunited. Seven weeks is a long time to be away from home.

I found a post I made about my semester abroad on Facebook and I decided to expand it and repost it here. Go see the world y’all. It won’t disappoint you, I promise.

*************************

Once upon a time, a long time ago (Fall of 1996), in a country far, far away (Vienna, Austria), a 20 year old Southern American girl took her big friendly smile across the pond determined to take Europe by storm. Well, it didn’t happen quite like that, but smiling helped a great deal. Even with my travel anxiety, I hopped on trains for long weekends and trusted in total strangers and believed that I was mostly immune to danger (other than pick pockets and lecherous, tiresome men, I was). No iphone. No internet. Just pay phones, my Let’s Go Europe Guide, a train schedule, and Jesus. I was braver then.

One thing I learned then that is still true for me today is that people are people and most people are good. I met so many angels unawares. I had the good fortune of always being helped, provided hospitality, or just plain talked to. Everywhere. I have a story for every stop along the way. It sounds rather Bohemian, but I assure you, I’m a safety girl, so I was choosy about my company. Even if we were only pilgrims for a few hours, I always made a friend—in airports, taxis, on trains, buses, in queues, in restaurants, hostels, hotels, and churches. I fell in with random groups of 20-somethings and roamed wherever. Grown up strangers gave warnings, directions, food and shelter. Friends of friends took me in for the day or night just because. I am so thankful that my belief in the goodness of people was affirmed. I still believe it.

The next summer, I moved to Germany to work. Again, so many people loved me through it. I made some good friends who were so very tolerant of me. I do not know where they all are now, but I love them just the same. People and people, and people are good.

Flood, fire, famine, fatigue—the world is a mess. But, if you look for it, you’ll find people just like you going around doing the next right thing, like helping a well-meaning, but clueless stranger in a foreign land find her way.

When I get gloomy about the state of the world,
I think of the arrivals gate at Heathrow Airport….
If you look for it, I’ve got a sneaking suspicion—
love is actually all around.

Opening monologue from the movie, “Love Actually”.

Love Y’all, Marla

Fall Break 2024. Both of my boys had the same time off and our exchange student J is still here, so off we went to The Big Apple for a quick holiday.

NYC is a bucket list city for almost every person I have ever met. I’m no exception. I love to go to NYC. Every time I go, I feel like I’m experiencing the city for the first time. The city is always changing and even visiting the same areas or points of interest is different every time.

My husband and I try to do something different every time we go to NYC. I remember our first trip to Ellis Island. One year we took the boys to the Tenament Museum. One year we went to the Morgan Library. Once we found the Highline though, we have never missed a quick jaunt to Chelsea Market and Hudson Yards.

Our one new thing this trip—a bike tour (a very McDaniel thing to do). An e-bike tour of the city bridges: Brooklyn, Manhattan, Williamsburg, Queensboro, and Kosciuszko was the perfect activity for teenaged boys with boundless energy. It was fantastic. Shout out to Rick, our guide. Truly, even for a non-biker with a bad hip like me, it was an unforgettable day!

For those of us who were alive that day, one cannot mention NYC without thinking of 9/11. We visited the Memorial Grounds and walked around the pools. Museum tickets were sold out so we couldn’t visit the museum. J said he had seen several documentaries about 9/11. He didn’t ask any questions. It was the quietest part of our trip.

No trip to NYC is complete without seeing a Broadway Show. I love musical theater. It’s my jam. Some kids play sports. Some kids play instruments. I sing and dance.

I remember my first show in New York. My life was never the same after that night! I left the big city lights determined to go to Julliard and become a theater star or a Rockette. Ofcourse this dream did not happen, but I love a good show and I sing and dance in my kitchen all the time!

This visit was so very special to me because we took J. I loved every minute watching him discover the city. We went everywhere and did as much as we could in 3.5 days. Hopefully, J left the Big Apple with an “Empire State of Mind”.

In New York,
Concrete jungle where dreams are made of,
Theres nothing you can’t do,
Now you’re in New York,
these streets will make you feel brand new,
the lights will inspire you,
lets hear it for New York…. Alicia Keys

If you’ve never been to NYC, go! If you have been, go again! “Start spreading the news…I wanna be a part of it, New York, New York…[if you] make it there, you make it anywhere.” Frank Sinatra

Love y’all, Marla

Ways to Help:

• United Methodist Committee on Relief umcor.org
• Samaritan’s Purse samaritanspurse.org
• Red Cross redcross.org
• FEMA fema.gov
• TN Baptist Mission Board TNdisasterrelief.org
• Southern Baptist Disaster Relief Sendrelief.org
• Salvation Army HeleneHelp.org

All disasters are personal. All disasters affect someone. This particular disaster is personal to me.

Love y’all,

Marla

For the last month we have hosted an exchange student from Germany. J is delightful. He is enthusiastic about everything and is willing to try anything—any food, any game, any show, any activity. We are having the best time. Watching J have a good experience with America and American school for the first time reminds me of all the positive things about our country.

When my son was in Germany with J’s family, his experience unfolded in a similar fashion. He was mostly enthusiastic about things. He loved the independence and the newness and the differences between Europe and back home. I felt like I was living abroad again for the first time! I was so happy for him. No one can ever take this experience from either young man. Hopefully, they will remember the good for always.

This exchange experience—for us as hosts and for my son being hosted—has made me reflective about first time experiences. I have thought alot about how much I love experiencing things for the first time. The joy of the first time is why I travel, or try new wine, or read a new book, or write a new blog, or try a new anything (mahjong, pilates, pottery class to name a few new ones).

I really, really love watching others experience things for the first time. There is so much joy in it. The expectation. The nervousness. The conquering. Their own realization that they like it (whatever it is). The independence gained. The excitement of discovery. It is all good.

The joy of the first time is also why I teach. My favorite thing about a speech therapy session is the moment “it clicks” for my student. I get so excited when I hear a newly perfected sound for the first time. Or when a student reads a sentence fluently with no errors! The pride and satisfaction in their whole body is the best thing ever!

Interestingly enough, this past Sunday’s sermon was on Revelations 2:1-7 and the “You’ve Lost That Loving Feeling” singing scene from Top Gun. Our minister explained how chapter 2 is a collection of letters to the early churches—the first one being Ephesus. In these letters, John is reminding the church what it felt like the first time they found God through Jesus (i.e. that loving feeling). John then goes on to exhort the church to change their mindsets to get that feeling back, because “you’ve lost that loving feeling.” There was alot more to the sermon and it was certainly more eloquently explained and delivered than this basic recap, but hopefully you see where I’m going with Pastor Dave’s most excellent thoughts!

The point is, I am a seeker of those first time feelings. When my life is not “feeling” like it should, I need to examine what I am doing and make it right. Ofcourse, life isn’t all about feelings. I could use any number of grownup words here: discernment, wonder, hope, duty, love…. If a speech session isn’t going well, tomorrow is another day. I go back to the drawing board and work it out (discernment, hope, faith). If my calendar is too full and I’m filling my life with empty “doings”, I stop and take time to “be” instead (wonder, rest, presence). If I have a disagreement with a friend or my child or my spouse, I try to remember what made our relationship special in the first place and then go and make it right (love, compassion, forgiveness, hope). The joy of those first time feelings centers me within the fruits of the spirit (Galations 5:22-23) and I am closer to the intersection of love of God and love of Neighbor, which is where Jesus wants us to be.

So I encourage you to experience a first sometime soon, whether it is a literal first for you, or you cheer on someone else. Maybe it will reveal something to you—an old feeling or a new one, a fresh perspective, a newfound gentleness, or excitement, or patience, or kindness? Those first time joys bring in the light and the love and the hope we all need to keep our faith in humanity.

Love Y’all,

Marla