No One Belongs Here More Than You

Rich Mullins was a contemporary Christian artist whose songs and perspective were a major influence on me during a crucial point in my life. He passed away in a tragic car accident when I was in college. I remember a chilly, late-night walk on campus during which I reflected on his life and the impact he’d had on the world. As autumn leaves crunched under my feet, I noticed stirring within my heart: a deep desire to make a similar impact. A dark voice of doubt tried to squelch it immediately. “Who do you think you are? You’re just a kid from a small town in Illinois!”

Fortunately, another voice came to my defense: “And Rich Mullins was ‘just’ a kid from a small town in Indiana. Why NOT you?”

I’ve always held on to that sentiment, especially when I’ve been intimidated, afraid, or feeling unworthy. Which happens a lot, especially when I’m about to give a speech to an audience that is out of my comfort zone. Yes, the people in the seats may have experience, social status, intelligence, or degrees that exceed my own, but I have something of value to bring to the table, too. I remind myself that my unique perspective may be just the thing that someone in that audience needs to hear on that particular day.

This past year, I had the privilege of being in the audience for a speech by Brené Brown at the World Domination Summit in Portland. As she vulnerably shared her own uneasiness with being on that stage, she offered an insight that served as a reminder to herself as well as each of us: “No one here belongs here more than me.”

I like that.

Confidence is not feeling like you’re better than everyone else. That’s cockiness. I believe that real confidence is the deep-seated belief that no one is better than you.

In the pantheon of crayon colors, brown rarely gets much love. It seems as though red and blue have the best publicists, for they are the colors most widely named as people’s favorites. But brown is a very useful hue, coming in quite handy when drawing trees, hair, skin, and many different kinds of animals. (And let’s not forget things made of chocolate!) Although we may have our favorites, no one color is better or more useful than any of the others. Each one is uniquely different and equally great.

Although we as people come from different backgrounds, have different viewpoints, and possess different strengths and talents, we each have a distinct brand of magic we are called to unleash on the world.

We need your magic.

Because if you remove one crayon from the box, our world becomes a little less beautiful.

Copyright 2012 Jason Kotecki

Photo Credit – Color Me Katie

Who is your favorite artist? DaVinci? Monet? O’Keefe?

Although he is not often considered as such, my favorite artist is God. His creativity is bar none, and you have to admit that his portfolio of work is quite staggering.

Indeed, one of my favorite things about God is his creativity. I think it’s because, as an artist, it’s the characteristic I can most relate to and appreciate.

I love going to the zoo, and learning about the different animals, about their habitats and ecosystems, and how each creature is custom-made to thrive in its specific environment. And on top of all the function is an amazing level of beauty mixed in as well. He didn’t have to create as many different types and variations of animals as he did, but in my experience, when you’re on a creative roll, it’s hard to stop.

The nine months of both of my wife’s pregnancies was a graduate level course in God’s great design. The sheer number of things that have to happen in order to successfully grow a human being from two microscopic cells is frankly, ridiculous. Babies are born every day, so it’s easy to take it all for granted, but the complexity of the system that makes it happen makes Swiss watch design look like a Lego toy in a Happy Meal.

So the other day, I came across a tutorial on how to make rainbow flowers. Before you chalk this up as the classic “put-white-flowers-in-water-dyed-with-food-coloring” trick, look again. The flower is not just dyed one color, but a rainbow of color. Neat huh?

I don’t know about you, but I think this takes something already quite remarkable — a flower — and makes it even better. Now, as I happen to regard flowers as one of God’s coolest inventions, I couldn’t believe that he wouldn’t have already thought of such an idea. Why didn’t he design flowers like this on his own? Why did he leave the door open for mankind to one-up him on this?

Then the light bulb went off.

Could God have created a white flower that naturally features a rainbow on its petals? Sure, his bag of tricks is pretty vast. But as unlikely as it sounds, God wants to be co-creators with us.

If he went ahead and created EVERYTHNG that could possibly be created, then by default, it would be impossible for us to create anything new. And that would be boring.

Too many people think that being creative is reserved for “artsy” types. Not so. We are all made in God’s image. God is creative, and as such, we are born with a creative side as well.

We can create paintings and songs and plays, sure. But we also can create businesses, learning environments, safe spaces for at-risk kids, more useful curricula, new technologies, better childhoods for our children, and opportunities for others to thrive.

We can create movements.

We can create legacies.

We can create lives that inspire others and give glory to the ultimate creator.

Believe it or not, you. are. creative. It’s in your DNA.

So…

What are you creating?

Photo Credit: Color Me Katie

Copyright 2012 Jason Kotecki

But it doesn’t have to be an all or nothing proposition.

Check out these two examples of fun Easter crafts. The first one, shown above, comes from the Rice Krispies website. It’s a Rice Krispie Treat shaped like an egg, with M&Ms hidden inside. Neat, huh?

The second one is a nifty project from Not Martha. On the surface, it looks like a regular hard-boiled Easter egg:

But then there’s that curious little message, begging you to inflict some damage.

Armed with the excuse that the egg was asking for it, you get to cracking.

And discover this:

Surprise!

What we have here is a seemingly “secular” combination of sugar and candy and colored eggs.

As well as the perfect metaphor for the real meaning of Easter.

After all, the tomb that some grief-stricken friends found empty one Sunday morning over two thousand years ago was Gods’s best way of saying, “SURPRISE!”

Although probably not intentionally, these two projects represent the idea that Easter is the most epic surprise party EVER, thrown for us, by God.

Copyright 2012 Jason Kotecki

In her first two-plus years of life, my daughter Lucy has only been sick a few times. For that, Kim and I count our blessings, as there is nothing more miserable and sad and pathetic than a sick little kid.

In those times when she is suffering, I’d happily take on her sickness and carry it myself if given the chance. Even if it meant that whatever affliction would be ten times worse and last ten times longer. I’d do it. In a heartbeat. I know parents who have lost children to cancer and diabetes, and I know they’d agree with me.

They would’ve given anything for the chance to trade places.

That’s the part about parenthood that surprises me the most. How is it that after thirty years of living with my own best interests in mind, can I suddenly turn into someone who would happily jump in front of a speeding truck to protect this little being I’ve only known for such a short time?

Before I became a Dad, I read about how God teaches you things about himself through the vocation of parenthood. I always kind of looked forward to that.

And now I get it.

Now I understand why God did what he did.

His own children were sick with sin. Really sick. So inundated with it that there was no hope for survival. They were terminal.

Unless.

Unless the perfect God of the Universe would be willing to take all of it on — all of the pain, the loneliness, the death — so we wouldn’t have to.

And so now I understand why he would give himself up on a wooden cross, eagerly willing to die in such a painful and humiliating way.

He was a Dad who loved his kids more than anything.

Copyright 2011 Jason Kotecki

Jason Kotecki is a Catholic cartoonist, author, and professional speaker. Blending hilarious anecdotes, uplifting stories and entertaining visuals, he specializes in adult and intergenerational faith formation programs that ignite spiritual sparks in stressed-out souls. He invites audiences to look at God in a fresh new way — through the eyes of a child. Look up his ministry on Facebook or learn more at www.KimandJason.com/catholicprograms

Over the years, I’ve had to rely on my faith quite a bit. I blame starting a business for that.

There were late nights when I wondered if I was a crazy fool, wasting time and money on a venture that would never pan out. I questioned the sanity of my friends and family, the ones who supported me even when my ship seemed to be sinking like a rock.

But the ship has survived and steadied itself — flourished even. Now I find myself content and comfortable. But like an old sailor who has been on land too long, I am getting that feeling in my bones again; the desire to dive back into the deep water, when the only thing I was sure of was an amazing adventure and a God who would not let me drown. It’s not a reckless urge; I have a mortgage and a kid now. But there is a confidence that comes in having made it through a terrifying storm, and seeing daybreak on the other side.

I wonder what God and I could do together next, perhaps even more amazing and world-changing than just building a company that helps others and provides for my family.

And so recently I’ve been bugging him.

“Let’s do more. I want to help even more people. I want to make a bigger impact. Use me.”

And a few months back, by myself on the majestic heights of the Colorado National Monument in Grand Junction, I got a response. In typical God fashion, he replied with just one word. And like a grain of wheat, that one word contained within it fields of meaning. That’s how I’ve experienced God, at least. He doesn’t send me convoluted fortune cookie riddles that need to be deciphered by a prophet or priest, but rather very simple, concise messages that speak right into my heart.

I was off the beaten path, nestled between two great orange rocks overlooking a valley blotted with a patchwork of roads and homes. Wispy clouds graced the bright blue sky. I’d been hoping to have a conversation with him all day but my mind was too noisy and my will too weak. Finally, on that outcropping of stone, I was able to settle down enough to share what was on my mind. The tiny houses below me became symbols of all the people I’ve been able to inspire, encourage or entertain in some way over the past ten years. I became incredibly grateful that God could do so much good stuff with a regular kid from little ol’ Peru, Illinois. And then it struck me that even though the town in view contained a sizable population, it was obviously just a blip compared to the whole world. “There are so many people who need you,” I thought.

“I wanna help,” I offered. “I can do this. Let me help even more people.”

I had unloaded. I had made my request.

And then, nothing.

No peals of thunder. No massive earthquake. No clouds that magically spelled out a message in the sky.

“Ok,” I thought. “Well, the offer stands. Thanks for everything you’ve done so far.”

And then, as I got up to leave and head back to civilization, he responded in a whisper with one simple word: “Pray.”

And somehow, I knew exactly what he meant by it. It was not a yes or a no, but an instruction. Pray. As in, “Show me how much you really want this.” And more specifically, “There will be new and harder challenges up ahead. In order for this to work out well for you, you need to have a stronger foundation than you do now.”

See what I mean about getting a mountain of meaning out of one simple word?

God’s good like that.

Upon further reflection in the months that followed, I thought about scuba diving. Metaphorically, I mean. I’ve never been scuba diving, but I know it’s not something you just decide to do one day, jumping into the deepest part of the ocean to have a look-see.

To play out the metaphor, at this stage in my spiritual life, I’m a pretty good “swimmer.” That is, God is important to me, I have a relatively strong prayer life, and I’ve withstood some challenging tests. Now I’m asking for more; to go deeper. But in order to do that, I need to use scuba gear, which requires a different level of training. Trying to go deeper without the proper equipment and training will literally crush me, and God knows it. Although he would love for me to take the next step, he won’t let me until I’m ready. The choice of whether or not to take scuba lessons is entirely mine.

I think that’s how God works. He’s always calling us to a new level in our relationship with him. He is terribly patient and never pushy. He’s thrilled when we want to take the next step, but he never gives us too much to handle (with his help.)

And so my word of the year is “Pray.” I am trying to be more consistent, more committed. I don’t know what comes next (or when), but I am training. I’m learning how to scuba.

And when the time comes for me to jump off this boat into the swirling deep blue sea of the next adventure, I know I’ll be ready.

Copyright 2011 Jason Kotecki

When I stopped at Applebee’s for dinner on the way home, I was still on a bit of a high. A waitress promptly came by to take my drink order (a Cherry Pepsi). She went away and I scoured the menu. My mind made up, I waited for the waitress to return, to no avail. Although I was eager to get home to see my girls, I really wasn’t strapped for time and I had a magazine with me that I was eager to dive into, so I elected to be patient.

Eventually, the waitress did return, apologizing profusely. I assured her that there was no harm done, and she took my order. After a short while, she brought me my appetizer — hot wings. (I decided to splurge, since Kim normally isn’t really into spicy things.) When my basket was about half empty, the waitress walked up to the table with another bowl of wings.

“They made way too many of these for your order,” she said. “You can have them if you want; they reheat pretty well.”

I eagerly accepted, giddy at the thought of extending my hot wings experience over the course of two days.

Eventually dinner came as well, and it was good. As I polished off the last few bites of a steak, the waitress came bearing gifts again. This time she had an Apple Pie Dessert Shooter.

She explained, “This is a little something for being so late to take your order. It’s on me.”

Obviously, this dinner (and day) had just gone from great to AWESOME.

When the check came, I looked it over and noticed that I wasn’t charged for my Cherry Pepsi. For a second, I wondered if I had stumbled into one of those behind-the-scenes candid camera scenarios. You know, like a social experiment in which they give me all these extras that I didn’t pay for, and then undercharge me for what I did order to see how honest I am. Not wanting to end up as the schlub on some primetime television exposé (and because my Dad raised me right), I pointed out the error to the waitress.

“Oh, don’t worry about it,” she said.

As I walked out the door, I had a free Pepsi, a clean conscience, and disbelief over what a great day it had been. (You can see how much food impacts my level of happiness.) Admittedly, some negative thinking invaded my mind, as I thought, “This day has been too good to be true. I wonder when the other shoe is going to drop.”

On the final leg home, I encountered a rain storm. The dark clouds and setting sun made for a spectacular view. And then, suddenly, a bright, vibrant rainbow appeared in front of me. Even before I had the chance to think about how cool it would be to see both ends of it, I turned my head and there it was: The entire rainbow stretched out in front of my car. It was one of the most glorious things I’d ever witnessed.

I was overcome by an overwhelming sense of peace and joy. The sight of the rainbow, and it’s reflection shining off the wet pavement in front of me, branded the day as truly remarkable.

And the still, small voice of God, sensing my unworthiness as I wondered what I did to deserve such a treasure, whispered, “You didn’t do anything special to deserve this, and nothing bad is about to happen. I love you. This is how I feel about you ALL THE TIME.”

Wow.

If you’re like me, sometimes it’s easy to feel like God is up in Heaven, keeping track of all the good and bad things we do. He throws us a bone when we do something right and screws with our life when we mess up. But that’s not how he operates.

In a world that is broken, with millions of wounded hearts and hurting souls, God is endlessly trying to communicate the message of just how much he loves us. (Perhaps even more amazing is the fact that he actually likes us, too.) If we could ever truly get our heads wrapped around that, our world would look very different indeed.

Signs of this message are everywhere, but we are often too busy to stop, too blind to see, too deaf to hear, and too dumb to understand that his entire creation is whispering three magic words: I love you. Fortunately for us, God sometimes finds it appropriate — and necessary — to shout to get our attention. The shouting works, but life goes so much better when we’re paying attention to the whispers along the way.

I challenge you today to slow your pace and open the ears of your heart to listen for God’s whisper. What is he trying to tell you?

On this day, he shouted at me in free hot wings and rainbows.

Copyright 2010 Jason Kotecki

The other day, she got herself caught in a traffic jam. The legs of our counter-height kitchen table and its accompanying chairs gridlocked her into a standstill. With all the might a one-year-old can muster, she pushed and prodded that car in an attempt to break free to the open road.

To no avail.

My initial instinct was to jump to her rescue and free her from her dilemma. But I could tell she was close to doing it on her own, so I decided to stay put. Her frustration level mounted, but I kept my distance. It was hard. Finally, with one last exasperated twist, the car untangled from the last chair leg and she was free.

And let me tell you, the beaming glow of pride on her face melted my heart like a Snickers bar in Scottsdale.

This foray into Fatherhood has taught me a lot of new stuff about God. This particular scenario gave me some insight about how he operates.

We all have rough patches in our lives, moments when we get stuck in the weeds. Things aren’t going according to plan and we’re stuck. Adultitis gets the better of us. We work our butts off to make the situation better, but nothing seems to help. After exhausting all of our resources, our frustrations mount. Perhaps we cry out to God to save us. He certainly can, and sometimes he does. A check shows up in the mail. The idea to solve a perplexing problem presents itself, seemingly out of thin air. We find the thing we had given up hope of ever finding.

But sometimes he doesn’t step in to save the day. Sometimes he’s silent.

Even though I often wish he would step in and make things easier for me, I’ve come to see that he has the wisdom to know that sometimes we have to go through difficult situations in life in order to come out stronger, better, and more confident on the other side.

And I believe that nothing makes him smile wider than seeing us accomplish exactly what he knew we could do all along.

Copyright 2010 Jason Kotecki

The little girl really wanted to go to Luigi’s, the pizza parlor downtown. She quite fancied the old brick walls and the smell of the wood burning stove. And watching the thick-forearmed men shape the dough and toss it into the air was a show in itself.

But then she thought of the longer drive. Money was tight, and she figured her parents wouldn’t be too happy about having to spend extra money for gas and pizza that was more expensive than the other place just down the street (which wasn’t nearly as good.) She also knew that her dad was in the middle of a big project at work, and he might appreciate a shorter meal so he could get some extra stuff done before bed.

Her birthday finally arrived, and she announced to her parents that she had decided to go to McDonald’s. So that’s where they went. The fries were a little soggy and the Happy Meal toy wasn’t very exciting, but it was nearby. And cheap. And fast.

The little girl was somewhat disappointed on the drive home, but appreciative of the time spent with her family and the rare chance to go out to eat. Her heart sank however, when her dad said, “That was a pretty good meal, but I have to say I was pretty surprised you didn’t pick Luigi’s. When I got home from work after filling up the gas tank, I was sure we’d be having pizza tonight. Those guys making the pizza sure are fun to watch.”

Sometimes we Christians have quite a struggle with the concept of free will. I’ve run across many people who believe that although it’s great in theory, life would be a lot easier if we had instructions detailing every move we should make. After all, it would make discerning God’s will so much simpler if he’d just tell us what to do already. We’re so worried about making the WRONG choice that we’d sometimes prefer if he’d just make EVERY choice.

That may make life easier, but it wouldn’t be anywhere near as rich or fun…or free.

As we make our way though life, we are often faced with decisions. Which career to pursue. Which person to to marry. Where to live. What restaurant to visit. Now, all the really important stuff he wanted us to know when it comes to making decisions is already in the Bible. It’s pretty clear that God’s not ok with any choices that are outside of the guidelines he’s already set forth.

In addition, God has given you gifts in the form of a special set of talents and passions. Things you’re good at. Things you enjoy. Things that interest you and excite you and fulfill you. Those are clues to follow as well.

And here’s the crazy weird part about free will: you actually get to make some choices on your own. All by yourself. You are not a robot that needs to be programmed before you can make each and every move. If you’re faced with a smorgasbord of possible solutions to a decision you’re trying to make, and if none of them go against the guidelines set forth in the Bible, it’s safe to say the choice is yours. That’s not to say you shouldn’t pray for guidance or seek the counsel of trusted allies, but don’t paralyze yourself overanalyzing which choice is more “right” than another.

Sometimes there is no one “right” choice. Sometimes there are MANY right choices.

Free will is a sign of how much God really loves us. He didn’t create you to be a mind-numbed robot, so he very often leaves decisions up to you (big ones, even). Sometimes, instead of revealing what he thinks you should do, he turns to you and says, “Where do YOU want to go?”

Sometimes he really is happiest with whatever decision makes YOU the happiest. It’s really is ok to pick the one that you want the most.

In other words, if you want to go to Luigi’s, go to Luigi’s.

Copyright 2010 Jason Kotecki

Their daytime agenda may be a mystery, but their modus operandi after dark is not. Under the bright rays of daylight, that space under your bed is empty, save a few missing game pieces and a discarded sock. But as soon as the bedroom light goes out, the shadows slowly crawl up the wall and you hear the sound of breathing coming from several slovenly beasts waiting for an opportunity. If your foot accidentally drifts over the side of the bed, you certainly won’t live to regret it.

Thank God for the night light – that dependable guardian of safety- faithfully providing just enough illumination to keep the monsters at bay. Because we all know they just HATE the light.

Being an anxious young lad, I had even more on my mind than those monsters. My dad would come in after I had nestled into bed, with the customary glass of cold water. After taking a swig, I confided — night as if it were the first time — I was afraid of the Thunder and the Lightning and the Fire Trucks. The original Axis of Evil.

And, every night –  if it were the first time — my father would calmly say, “That’s okay, Jason, they’re all in bed now.”  That was enough for me. I was certain that the Thunder and the Lightning and the Fire Trucks were indeed in bed. With that confident assurance — and the steady glow of the night light — was able to drift off into dreamland.

That’s how it works with kids. The word of Mom and Dad is golden, more reliable than a hot summer in San Antonio. If Dad informs you that babies come from storks, who can argue? When you skin your knee on the sidewalk, and Mom kisses your boo-boo, is it not instantly healed? Kids have an inherent ability to have faith in something bigger than themselves. They trust that their parents know everything and are as heroic as Superman or Wonder Woman.

As we grow up, we see that our parents may not be as all-knowing as we once believed. But that doesn’t mean there isn’t still something much bigger than us, looking out for us, and loving us without condition. That fact gets lost in the details of living, as we take the weight of the world on our own shoulders. We worry about our strained marriage, our job security (or lack thereof) or paying the mortgage. We lie awake at night wondering if we’re good parents. We fret about big life changes, which become increasingly indistinguishable from the host of little ones.

In our monster-under-the-bed scenario, the night light is a symbol of faith. When our bedroom is flooded with sunlight, there are no monsters to be found. That’s how it is in life. With a strong faith to light the way, our fears and worries melt away. But as night falls, or our faith wavers, we are more easily frightened by the distorted shadows of our imaginations.

Life is a thrilling adventure, with more uncertain turns than any roller coaster. By observing the easy faith of children, perhaps we can see that faith can offer us a release from the gnawing worries that press down on us daily. Will we make rent this month? Am I doomed to be among the next round of layoffs? How will we ever afford college? Do I have what it takes to be a good dad?

Questions like these loom large in our lives — even larger than the bloodthirsty creatures that lurked in the shadows of our childhood bedrooms. May we be ever mindful that there IS someone bigger than the questions, bigger than the monsters that keep us up at night. May we remember that we have a hand to hold through all the scariness that life dishes out. And, in the darkest of nights, may we always count on that simple childlike faith to light our paths, keeping the monsters at bay better than any night light ever could.

And the monsters will be forced to go wherever it is that monsters go.


Copyright 2010 Jason Kotecki

Obviously, that all changed with the arrival of little Lucy.

In just over a year, I have become quite skilled at diaper changing and more desensitized to bodily fluids than I ever thought possible.

Not having our first child until well into our marriage came with both advantages and disadvantages. On the plus side, we developed strong communication skills and had lots of time to discuss our hopes and strategies for parenthood. On the downside, we were pretty well set in our ways.

Eating out at nice quiet restaurants is easy to get used to, after all.

Our first year of parenthood was quite a challenging transition, as we learned how to juggle the baby and the business on much less sleep than we were used to. I think we came out ok, but I still struggle from time to time with the new season I find myself in.

Seasons. Just as the year is divided into spring, summer, fall, and winter, our lives can be divided into different seasons. Our life at fifty looks a lot different than our life at twenty. God asks different things of us depending on which season we are in.

Jesus himself experienced different seasons of life. His childhood and adolescence were, like all of us, periods of learning and growing. Then he moved into a season of work as the son of a carpenter, followed by a season of temptation in the wilderness. The temptation led to his three years of ministry, which transitioned into his passion, death, and resurrection. Each season brought with it a different mission and call. When Jesus was in the desert, God wasnÕt expecting him to be building dining room tables and entertainment centers for the townsfolk. And his time in the wilderness called for absolute solitude, while his active ministry required him to be out among the people.

My problem is that even though I am in the new season of early fatherhood, I still act like I should be doing the same things I did in my previous season. How can I work the same hours and accomplish the same number of things as I did before I had Lucy? ItÕs as frustrating as it is impossible. What I am now finally realizing is that God is not expecting me to do the same things I did five years ago.

That extra pressure is coming solely from me.

In the last decade, my job was to follow his call to help people who are feeling rushed, stressed and overwhelmed. I worked long hours, did a lot of networking, made a lot of mistakes and learned a lot about business and marketing. With His help, I was able to create a solid business that provides for my family. Now that the business is more stable than it was in the early days, God is giving me the opportunity to put more focus on my role as a father and husband. It’s not that I’m supposed to neglect the business, it’s just that He wants to me to allocate my time a bit differently.

The Big Guy Upstairs (I’m pretty sure that’s what’s on his business card) seems to be more aware of our limitation of having just 24 hours a day than we are. Apparently, He figured 24 hours was the exact right amount of time. If we’re trying to cram 27 hours worth of stuff in a 24-hour day, that’s our problem, not his.

And when we try to pack our day like a family of five heading out on a cross country trip in a Mini Cooper, stress is sure to follow.

Stress happens when we forget what season we are in and try to do too much.

Are you in a state of near-constant overwhelm? Are you always feeling rushed, wishing you could find a way to add a few more hours to your day? Perhaps you are trying to do things that aren’t required of you during this particular season.

It would be easy if there were some obvious things you could sweep off your plate. Bad stuff. Useless stuff. Unimportant stuff. But it’s not a matter of doing things that aren’t worthwhile. My guess is that everything on your plate is good.

It’s awfully hard to let go of something that’s good.

Wanna know a secret?

Just because something is good doesn’t mean you have to do it.

Sometimes we have to say no to the good to say yes to the best.

Maybe some of those good things can be let go of now that you find yourself in a new season. And maybe some good things need to be put on the shelf until the next season. For instance, if you are seriously ill, maybe you need to give yourself permission to let go of some of your responsibilities so you can focus on getting well. If you are a parent, perhaps your career ambitions need to be downsized a bit in order to become the parent God wants you to be. Or maybe some of your social activities or volunteer efforts can be resumed when your kids are a little older.

Is it easy? Of course not. But a life spiraling out of control and burdened by busyness and stress is not what God desires for you.

Quite the opposite, in fact.

Jesus said, “Come to me all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.” (Matthew 11:28)

Slowly but surely, I’m learning to let go of the guilt of not working as much as I used to. I’m making a point to notice, appreciate, and savor the exciting blessings that are new to this season I now find myself in. I’m enjoying the breathing room that has been created by cleaning a few things off my plate, allowing more time for Lucy and more time for God.

And I’m realizing that as great as a quiet meal at a nice restaurant can be, it’s nothing compared to a quiet evening spent with a one-year-old eating Cheerios out of my hand.

Copyright 2010 Jason Kotecki

CatholicMom.com is thrilled to welcome talented speaker, author, and cartoonist Jason Kotecki as a regular contributor.  Visit Jason and his lovely wife Kim at their website at KimandJason.com for more fun. This is Jason’s first contribution to CatholicMom.com – hopefully the first of many!

John the Baptist was a little bit nuts.

Right?

I mean, he’s held in very high esteem these days. He’s revered for standing up to the uppity kings and Pharisees of his time. He was the cousin of Jesus, for crying out loud.

But even though fancy suburban churches bear his name, I never seem to hear very much about how weird it was for him to live in the dessert eating locusts and wearing clothes made of camel hair. Although he’d certainly be an excellent contestant on Survivor, his antics were just as weird back then as they would be today.

We sometimes glide past these little details when talking about John, overlooking the fact that most of us would run the other way if we saw him standing on a street corner.

My friend Jenna shared with me the idea that John the Baptist is not completely unlike Buddy from the popular Christmas movie, Elf. I think she’s on to something.

In the film, Will Ferrell plays the lovable human character raised by elves at the North Pole. After learning that his real father is a New York City businessman who is also on Santa’s naughty list, Buddy decides to travel to the Big Apple to meet him. To get there, he passes through the seven levels of the Candy Cane forest, through the sea of swirly twirly gum drops, and then walks through the Lincoln Tunnel. Buddy’s enthusiasm for Christmas and being an elf doesn’t go over so well with most of the people he encounters.

Most people don’t take him very seriously. He certainly stands out. After all, he wears a tight-fitting green outfit — complete with silly looking elf shoes and hat — and puts syrup on everything.

It’s not camel hair pants and locusts, but it’s an unusual wardrobe and diet to say the least.

The religious leaders of John’s day were fakes. Hippocrites. Poseurs. They acted all high and mighty, pretending to be something they were not. The Baptist called them out, branding them as a “brood of vipers.”

Similarly, Buddy called out the “fake” Santa he encountered at a department store: “You sit on a throne of lies. You stink. You smell like beef and cheese! You don’t smell like Santa.”

Although Buddy the Elf and John the Baptist may have come across as a little nuts, there’s no question about the impact they made in the hearts of the people they encountered. Their secret was unlimited sincerity, unshakable faith, and unbridled passion.

Upon hearing that Santa was coming to town, Buddy couldn’t contain his excitement. “Santa?!” he shouted. “Oh my gosh! Santa’s Coming! I know him! I KNOW HIM!”

I can imagine it was with the same fervor that John preached his message of the coming Messiah. It was a BIG deal. John was on fire about the news, and he didn’t just preach a message, he lived it.

John is a key figure during the Advent season. As much as we sail past some of John’s more unusual traits, I fear that we also miss out on his example. Do we look forward to Christmas with the same level of attention and enthusiasm? Or do we shuffle through the season, buying gifts, decorating our homes and attending parties, all the while lamenting the hurriedness of it all? Are we really living the Christmas message, or do we just preach it using Christmas cards and carols? Have we grown too jaded to appreciate the joy that is at hand?

It seems to me that Christians everywhere should be shouting, “Oh my gosh, Jesus is coming! I know him! I KNOW HIM!”

That unadulterated enthusiasm for God entering our story is what I believe Advent is really all about.

Maybe we should all be a little bit more nuts.

Of course, maybe I’m just a cotton-headed ninnymoggins.

Copyright 2009 Jason Kotecki