making a list, checking it twice

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i'm a big fan of lists.

in the eighth grade, i wrote a list of 10 things i needed to do to make the boy-of-the-week-of-my-dreams fall in love with me. the list included things like "smile at him in the hall then look away shyly" and concluded with step #10: "wear my black and white floral capris from Express while sweeping the gym floor and knock his socks off."

at this point in the story i should explain that i was a gym assistant. and office assistant. and time out room assistant. pretty much any middle school assisting job i could take to get out of vocational and technical education class.

the boy wasn't robert, and for all my planning, i didn't turn his head (cue garth brooks, unanswered prayers), but that didn't deter my love for, and faith in, the power of lists. besides the usual grocery lists, i numerate my work tasks, vacation plans and school deadlines.

so you'd think i would love this part of christmas. before the first frost hits the field beside my childhood home, mama begins her sweet natured begging and questioning. what do you want for christmas? make me a list. unlike robert, who gave me his birthday/christmas list in july, i have a hard time with this one.

it's not because i can't come up with things i want. my anthropologie catalog came in the mail yesterday and i devoured it. it's just that the people who ask me for lists are usually mama, dad, and robert. i hate asking for things from people who already give me so much.

and as much as i'd love a new mustard yellow peacoat or platform clogs, i don't need them. so this year, i've created a little list of things i do lack and desperately need this christmas, starting with:

1. less focus on presents, and more on presence. so many times, especially at work, people approach me and talk about things that are important to them--their kid got a good report card, their car broke down and they've been hitching a ride to the office with their wife all week--and though i let them speak, and i even listen, i let other thoughts, typically selfish ones, creep in. what time is this proposal due? what am i making tonight for supper? i miss out on being truly engaged and present in the conversation and thus miss out on the chance for that conversation to strengthen and enrich me.

2. to not let worry have such a stronghold over my life. i place such an enormous value on my family and it can be easy to drown myself in fear over their well-being. anxiety sneaks in over my work and school pursuits. "who of you by worrying can add a single hour to his life?" -matthew 6:27. worry is my biggest enemy and my greatest temptor. i'm like a moth to a flame, and it's burning my wings away.

3. to stop what i'm doing every.single.time pablo trots over to me, nudges my thigh with his nose, and dangles his toys, begging me to play. the older i get, the more i appreciate play time, and if i can make this little furball happy just by flinging his stuffed bear across the living room floor, then really, why not? the internet can wait. facebook can wait. television can wait. i want to do more this season, tear my eyes away from the screen and engage myself in activity. i want my fingertips to feel more than the keyboard, and i want to make others happy with my actions.

4. to remember the beautiful reason for the season, and prepare my heart for this time of year. i don't want to be so wrapped up in the decorations, gift buying, holiday-outfit-choosing and carol singing that i forget to invite the guest of honor to the party. for me, this means a little less fruitcake and a little more fruits of the Spirit.

this is a little list, but a mighty one. i pray it has more effect over my life than my middle school crush-winning one did. i still don't understand why those tactics didn't work. those black and white capris were pretty fabulous.