Faith + Gratitude = Peace + Hope
When I was young, my dad would always say, "Crystal, you can choose your attitude." One day I chose to believe him.
This morning Facebook notified me of my mother’s birthday. I know, Facebook. I know.
She would’ve been 84.
“I’ve got to go. I’m staying with friends,” she once said on a visit in my dreams. Her eyes twinkled, and her smile lit up the room. She was healthy, vibrant, and FULL of life. That was about three years ago not long after she left us.
“I love that, Mama. I bet you have lots of friends up there,” I said.
And then, the paradox—she lives, right in my heart.
We hope for better things. It shall rise from the ashes.
Detroit motto
I confess. I have an HGTV addiction. The channel features gifted home designers, spa-inspired bathrooms, cutting-edge kitchens, beckoning outdoor spaces, and such smart usage of space. By day, I watch for the ideas. By night, I dream of hiring professional help.
I have a soft spot for a show called Bargain Block. Partners in renovation and life, Keith and Evan take on decrepit Detroit houses—often two at a time and the worst on the same block. Then they make dream homes come true. Keith is the creative genius, and Evan has a PhD in Physics. Together they have good chemistry and laughs that warm my heart. When I have nothing better to do, I catch back-to-back re-runs on Thursday afternoons.
During Season 3, Episode 7, the guys buy a long-abandoned house for $4500. Dead branches fill the living room. A tree literally grows through the floorboards. They joke about landscaping the inside of the house and renovate for $80,000, doing all of the work themselves. The neighborhood eyesore rises from the ashes. The neighbors watch the transformation, delighted by the impact on their street. At the open house, potential buyers ooh-and-ahh and say things like, “This is so Detroit*” and “I can see myself pulling up after a long day’s work and being proud to call this place home.” Keith and Evan receive asking price. $130,000. Win. Win.
Sure. I could tell you all about my dream home. It would be more fun to chat with you over coffee. I bet together we could dream up the dreamiest home. Then we could solve all the world’s problems before coming back to reality. I might tell you about the time back in 2017 when a flood displaced my family, my husband and me, our son and our dog, and how we lived in a La Quinta for ten months while rebuilding home. It took a devastating loss to realize—things are just things. Often times, wishing for what I don’t have stands in the way of appreciation for what I do have. And slowly, I’m learning lessons in acceptance and contentment for what is.
HOPE, PEACE, JOY, and LOVE— these are the four pillars of a dream home.
Not long ago, a friend of mine in India wrote about the end of an era, his grandfather’s death “last month on the auspicious day of Diwali in the early hours of dawn.” I verified my definition of the word auspicious: conducive to success, favorable. I Googled Diwali: the Hindu festival of lights symbolizes the spiritual “victory of light over darkness, good over evil, and knowledge over ignorance” (Wiki). I thought of my mother and considered my friend Nara’s perspective on death.
My mother loved Jesus and followed His teaching:
“A new command I give you: Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another.”
John 13:34
My mother prayed while she baked banana bread and planted trees, harvested zucchini and pruned her roses. She prayed as she chauffeured her kids to and from school, tucked us in at night, and taught us our manners. She prayed for God to bless her family and friends, her church and community and the world. She touched many lives with her beautiful smile and constant kindness.
My mother died three years ago in the earliest hours of the auspicious day of Christmas Eve. I think it was my dad who said, “She went to be with Jesus for his birthday.” It was indeed the end of an era, but her faith continues to light the way, the truth, and the life.
May the gifts of hope, peace, joy, and love be yours.
On the third Sunday of December, I carried my laptop to the patio and searched for Covenant Church Houston. The temperature of my backyard sanctuary was set at sixty degrees, and there was a light breeze. The morning sun spilled gold onto the leaves of the still-green grass and into the tops of the live oak trees. Squirrels skittered across the fence and Blue Jays swooped from branch to branch. I spotted my friend in the backrow of the choir singing Bach, the Christmas Oratorio.
The third Sunday of the Advent season focuses on joy. I jotted down notes from the sermon.
A lot of people say “just try really, really hard to have a happy life” but they end up more miserable than ever! So you have this ancient tradition [in Ecclesiastes] that says “No, no, go about it totally differently. Go into the heart of all the sadness, and the anxiety and the loss, go all the way into it. And on the other side, you might actually find something.”
For many people, joy is, “If I could just get my life all cleaned up, and get to the top of the mountain, I could just escape all of the grit and sweat and grime of life, the bills, the problems, the annoying co-workers, the obnoxious neighbors.” But joy is about your eyes opening to the absurdity, to the funny, to the unexpected surprises, to the creativity. It’s right below the surface everywhere…Lean into the absurdity because God is there.
Rob Bell
Different churches approach the Advent season in different ways. According to Christianity.com, Advent refers to the four weeks leading to Christmas, a time of anticipation and preparation for the birth of Jesus. Each week of Advent focuses on a different theme—hope, peace, joy, and love.
In 2023, I dove into the heart of the sadness. It wasn’t just cancer, but a conglomeration of pieces, and I’ve made it to the other side. No matter what you believe, despite current circumstances, whether you celebrate Christmas or not, I wish you hope and peace and joy and love. If you send it back, I couldn’t ask for anything more.
“Emotions are vibrations of pure energy. Every emotion has its own unique vibrational frequency. Everything in the universe is made of energy, and emotions are no exception.”
Dr. Bradley Nelson, The Emotion Code
A friend of mine recently visited a naturopathic doctor who recommended Dr. Nelson’s book. I didn’t know exactly what it meant to be a naturopath. According to naturopathic.org, “They diagnose, prevent, and treat acute and chronic illness to restore and establish optimal health by supporting the person’s inherent self-healing process. Rather than just suppressing symptoms, naturopathic doctors work to identify underlying causes of illness, and develop personalized treatment plans to address them.”
On November 7, I began listening to The Emotion Code on Audible. I wish I had purchased a copy in print. Still, I took notes and relistened to parts:
Quantum physics shows us that energies are affected by other energies. Three things happen when we experience an emotion:
I had these ideas on my mind when Kody and I headed to Galveston on 11/11 for our anniversary.
Let’s say for example, Kody gets bent out of shape while driving, and I feel his emotional vibration. My affected energy no doubt rebounds back at him, and then we’re stuck in a needless loop of bad energy.
For our anniversary, I was determined to let my emotions go and move on, and you know what? Kody and I had more fun than we’ve had in years.
On November 16, I listened to the chapter called “Healing with Magnets.” The book includes many testimonials. One complaint, a few too many. One man had injured his knee. He needed surgery, decided against it, but tried magnet therapy based on a friend’s suggestion. After five days, he felt no difference. On the tenth day, he felt no pain. He continued wearing magnets for the next two months. X-rays from three years earlier revealed a lack of cartilage and bone on bone. To his doctor’s astonishment, new X-rays showed that the cartilage in his knee had somehow regenerated. The magnet is energy. Quantum physics shows us that energies are affected by other energies. I decided to give the magnet a try.
I followed the doctor’s instructions, asked God for divine help in releasing anger and resentment, and placed a 4″ by 4″, flexible refrigerator magnet left of spine where I’ve experienced pain and felt a lump for five years or so. I wore leggings that day, and the magnet fit perfectly inside my waistband. I wore it all day. The doctor said that the magnet magnifies your thoughts. I spoke to God and believed.
“ 7 Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you. 8 For everyone who asks receives; the one who seeks finds; and to the one who knocks, the door will be opened.”
Matthew 7:7-8
I’m perfectly aware this all sounds farfetched, but my pain was 97% gone after one day, and the lump was less lumpy. Faith is believing what you cannot see. If you go looking for miracles, you just might find them.
I’ve been letting go for about three weeks now, focusing on love and gratitude, and talking with God about certain situations where I stubbornly resisted help before.
My daughter told me about a movie on Netflix called Best. Christmas. Ever. If you’re into Christmassy movies, it’s heartwarming, and here’s my takeaway: “Things don’t happen unless you believe they can.” A message I seem to keep hearing.
The Emotion Code subtitle reads—How to Release Your Trapped Emotions for Abundant Health, Love, and Happiness. Dr. Nelson references Dr. Masaru Emoto’s research on how human emotions influence the molecular structure of water. It’s quantum physics. Energies are affected by other energies. Who’s for abundant health, love, and happiness?
Last month, Kody Byers travelled to Kansas for work on a Monday and returned on a Thursday. I left for Kentucky that day. He flew in. I flew out. Separate airports. We missed each other.
On Sunday, he drove north to Dallas for work. On Monday, I returned and left again for North Carolina on Thursday. Kody returned home near the time I boarded the plane. We missed each other again.
After a two-week separation, Kody awaited my arrival with open arms. It was close to midnight on Sunday after a layover in Dallas and then a grounded flight. In the kitchen, there was a box of pizza on the countertop, an open bottle of Pinot Noir, and a small gift bag on the island. “I missed you,” he said. “I got you a gift.” I couldn’t quite read his expression.
Inside the bag was a small jewelry box. Inside the box, a sapphire ring. “Is this my ring?” I said, studying his face. Of course, it was my ring. This was not just any ring. I’m not sure what my face conveyed, but I was flat-out flummoxed.
My engagement ring went missing in 2019. In the fall before I started my MFA program, I spent some time in the air and on the road, time away with my husband, time with friends, time with family, time in an Airbnb, time in a handful of hotels. I lost my ring during that time. I dumped out every purse, bag, and suitcase—and searched high and low. Sickened by my own carelessness, I finally gave up the hunt and reconciled myself to the fact that my sapphire from Kuşadası was forever gone. (Click here for the engagement story.)
“I just felt like it was calling out to me,” Kody said with a touch of sarcasm, “and that it was here, so I started looking everywhere. I looked in the car, under the stove, in closets and drawers and cabinets. I cleaned out and organized and looked for days. I ended up in the garage going through boxes. And when I walked back into the kitchen, I reached up here—” He reached his hand up to the top open shelf to show me, above eye level and over his head. “And here it was, in the corner. I wasn’t really looking. I just reached up.” He seemed stunned, too.
I can barely remember what I did two weeks ago, much less four years ago. Did I stick it there? Did he? It’s such a mystery.
Or…
Perhaps …
A miracle.
I believe in miracles. Just reach up.
Another travel opportunity fell into my lap. This time my niece Catherine would be marrying the love of her life, and my mini-me Lauren would meet me for the wedding in Asheville, North Carolina.
From the airport, Lauren and I shuttled to our hotel nearby late on a September Thursday night. “Do you want to watch a movie, or do you care if I watch Riverdale?” she said as we sank into the pillows on our separate beds.
“I don’t care,” I said. “You can watch your show. What’s the premise?”
“It’s about a group of high school kids solving crimes,” she said.
“Like Scooby Doo?” I said.
“Yeah.” She laughed a little laugh, like she had never thought of this herself.
I wasn’t super zoned in on the show, but I heard someone address a character as Betty. “Is there a Veronica?” I said.
With eyebrows raised, she cocked her head and studied my face as if I were psychic. “Yes, and that’s Jughead,” she said pointing at a character on screen with a beanie resembling a crown.
“Jughead?” I said, “This IS Scooby Doo!”
“What?” Her laugh jingled like bells. “How did I not know this? Who was Jughead?”
“He was sort of like their outsider friend, I think, maybe not even a friend, but an enemy,” I said. Lauren looked at me doubtfully, and I realized I literally had no clue about Jughead. The names were familiar. That is all. Then Archie appeared, and I suddenly grasped that I had a mixed-up memory of the Archie comics and the Saturday morning TV of my childhood. I barely remember reading the comics, but somehow their names had stuck.
Memories are like that. Sometimes faulty. How often do we tell people things we know when we’re completely wrong? I’m quite sure this was my first time. Lauren and I reminisced about the REAL Scooby Doo girls, Daphne and Velma, and cackled at my confusion. The late-night laughs set the stage for the rest of our trip.
In the morning, we Ubered from the hotel by the airport to the wedding party hotel in downtown Asheville. We would arrive before check-in and drop our bags at the front desk before heading to The Biltmore. And who should we run into? The bride and groom and my brother Scott. Our Uber awaited, so we quick-hugged the family, Scott commandeered our bags, and Lauren and I rolled on to the largest home in the USA.
We audio-toured the house, stopped to smell the roses, and sauntered through the Conservatory. We lunched, splurged on ice cream, hydrated, and soaked in the scenery. We barely caught an Uber back in time to freshen up for the rehearsal dinner extended to family. Otherwise, we wouldn’t have changed a thing.
Flash forward to the wedding, the sun setting over the mountains, a string quartet playing, a friend officiating, the maid of honor reciting Rumi, the bride and groom reading their own heartfelt vows. Him from his cell phone. Her from a note in the pocket of her bridal gown. And one amazing kiss. The stuff of fairy tales.
Perhaps you can tell by the expert dip, the newlyweds took lessons in preparation for their first husband-and-wife dance. They waltzed to “If I Ain’t Got You” by Alicia Keys—more dips included—and set the party on fire with “24K Magic” by Bruno Mars. After dinner and the traditional bride-and-father, groom-and-mother dances, a couple of bridesmaids took the floor. Not long after, my almost-84-year-old dad and Lauren led the way. I followed, so did my sister Liz. We all shook our groove things, and that’s how the party started. Before long there would be flashing glasses and rabbit ears and unicorn headbands and glow sticks. Oh my! And the best part? Family!
It was 1:30 in the morning. With eyes wide open, I had a dreadful sense of foreboding stuck in my chest, right in my heart.
I searched YouTube for binaural beats and found one called “Get Rid of All Bad Energy, Tibetan Healing Sounds, Reduce Stress and Anxiety, Meditation.” I clicked the link.
While listening, eyes shut, I visualized a light streaming from the sky, a direct link to God. I breathed in and out, a meditation of love and kindness, healing and miracles. I traced my thigh with my fingertips, down to my left knee and held on, breathing healing into existence. Somehow my own touch soothed. I traced my left arm in the same way around to my left breast, the one with a cancerous tumor. I hadn’t intended to examine myself, but I discovered what had been a hardening of tissue post-radiation was now soft to the touch. I held on, inhaling.
In my mind’s eye, I breathed in the light, and on the exhale that same light wrapped me up like a cocoon of love, kindness, healing, and miracles. The energy surrounding my body glowed in transforming colors, reminiscent of the Aurora Borealis. From green to blue, purple to pink to white. I drew my own conclusions. Green for growth, blue for hope, purple for power, pink for feminine strength, white for the purest of love. And for this experience, I am grateful.
💚💙💜💖🤍
On January 2, I wrote, “I suppose, if I have one goal or one word for myself this year, I’m leaning toward GRACE. GRACE when I want to beat myself up. GRACE when I want to beat someone else up.”
The words “I suppose” sound half-hearted.
“If.” Noncommittal.
“I’m leaning…” Not quite there.
Perhaps, I needed a plan. Perhaps, more prayer.
Sure enough, by October, my word of the year had escaped my otherwise-preoccupied mind. I searched the blog and discovered these few lines toward the bottom of my first post of 2022.
“I’m leaning toward GRACE. GRACE when I want to beat myself up. GRACE when I want to beat someone else up.”
And what have I been doing to myself these last few days?
Beating myself up.
On housekeeping, on Christmas shopping, on my inability to move from the couch after work, on my not checking in on friends and family.
Then there are the fantasies of throwing throat punches. On the road, in the grocery store, even at school.
Then the anger melts to tears.
And suddenly, finally, I hear GRACE in the back of my head. In a velvety smooth voice, she says, “Honey Child, what would Jesus do? ‘A new command I give you: Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another’ (John 13:34).”
And that’s GRACE—
Feeling the love and paying it forward, understanding we’re human and flawed, extending ourselves GRACE and love and time for honesty and patience for what we cannot control, knowing God will get us through if we just lean in.
Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays and LOVE and GRACE and PEACE to you!
Bleh, bleh, bleh, bleh, bleh, bleh, bleh. Bleh and bleh, worry and fear, sad and mad, shame and guilt and regret. And yet— What if? I have the power to rewrite my story. What if? My words and thoughts have creative power to transform. What if? I think on noble things: health, wealth, and love, faith and gratitude, peace and hope and joy. What if I believe? Life is good and generous, and miracles are in motion beyond my wildest dreams. What if I say? Thank you, thank you, thank you.
Faith + Gratitude = Peace + Hope 