Christmas Wrap Up

As I ponder this year's holiday experience, I think it is safe to say it is one of the richest and most authentic celebrations of Christmas I have experienced.

For the last several years I have committed myself to being 'finished' with all the Christmas prep of shopping, wrapping and cards by December 1st. (I use a liberal definition of finished, but 85-90% counts ;) This requires a little planning but truly allows me to experience the celebration of Advent by being present instead of stressed and rushed.

To accomplish this goal, I break my shopping list down into categories (nieces and nephews, work gifts, friend gifts, grandparents, etc.) and start purchasing in August. I find this spreads out the expense as well. I use Amazon wish lists for my children as it allows them to research prices, reviews, etc on items they are interested in (and is easy to pass along to close family members and grandparents looking for ideas).

I set a goal of ordering my Christmas cards and the traditional photo calendars we make for grandparents by Thanksgiving, this allows me to take advantage of preseason coupons and stretch out the envelope addressing process over a few weeks.

This year we also accepted an invitation from friends to travel to Colorado for a ski trip the week before Christmas. Frankly, I had a lot of anxiety about this because even though I am committed to me December 1 completion of the to do list, there are always last minute items.

Saying yes led me to simplify my Christmas decorating. I only put up one tree instead of two and opted to not put up the wreaths on the outside of our home. (An unexpected snow the weekend we planned to do exterior decorating also sealed the deal.) I was surprised to find I didn't really miss the extra décor.

We left town December 16-17 for a four city tour of funeral, wrestling tournament, out of town family celebration and birthday dinner. We regrouped on the 18th and then left for our ski trip with friends. We pulled back into our driveway just before midnight on the 23rd, collapsed into bed and awoke to Christmas Eve guests.

There was peace and a resignation that all the truly important things had been handled. If it had not been done ahead of time, God gave me the very-unlike-me ability to let it go. We had food, family, our church to worship in and felt rested from our frenzy-free trip--ready to truly soak in the celebration. Although, I actually made trips to Wal-Mart and the grocery store 12/24 because I am a sucker for the energy of the last minute rush.

I don't share my methodology for any other reason than as encouragement that if this scattered woman can do it, anyone can! I am committed to this plan because of the purpose and peace a little planning on the front in seems to bring.

In the couple of days since Christmas, I have been able to gloriously lose track of what day of the week it is. I have been able to spend face to face time with people I care about and let some of the leftover mess go. Instead of a frenzied takedown of Christmas I am doing a little at a time and it feels pensive and sweet, not just another item on the to do list. I am learning that bite-sized pieces are much better for my soul. (And big kid helpers aren't such a bad thing either.)

I have also been keenly aware of the human condition this year. The week of Christmas started with the untimely death of a dear friend of my husband's and has included lengthy conversations with people I care about who are in pain, poverty, recovering from addiction--but rather than sadness, I am more reminded than ever that THIS IS CHRISTMAS--Emmanuel, God With Us, who came because He had to enter into the muck and heartache in order to rescue us from it.

The older I get the more real this muck becomes to me. I have people I care about literally drowning in their muck right now. I am trying to celebrate Christmas year round by entering in-- but I am not Him. It makes me sad and sick and sometimes scared. Which leads me right back to my need for Him. I can't rescue anybody, but I pray I can introduce them to the Rescuer by authentically seeking Him, speaking of Him and reflecting His love more often than I do.

A hope for 2018...

A Christmas Story

Wednesday afternoon my Kate came panting breathlessly into the kitchen. "There's a puppy. He looks lost and lonely and afraid. He's so little....and cuuuute. I can't catch him. Can you help me?"

Animals, outdoors and adventures are the trifecta for my girl. My heart beats for the orphaned and forgotten--and for quality time/adventures initiated by my children. I suppose I don't have to tell you how I responded.

I dashed out the door behind her, down our driveway, across the street and two houses over to the right. As Kate led she shouted "the last time I saw him he was in these bushes." I found myself creeping along the property line of three houses in our neighborhood. One home is currently uninhabited, but there were gardeners trimming branches. They confirmed they had also seen the pup. The other two homes' residents are elderly and don't get out much. I imagined they might be peering from their windows preparing to either call the authorities to report prowlers or deciding that the woman with so many animals and children had finally lost her marbles.

Just when I was preparing to suggest we wrap up our adventure Kate shouted, "I see him!"
I ducked under overgrown fruit tree branches and squatted beneath some shrubbery next to her. She pointed to a dark pile of fluff with two dull and frightened eyes. The pup was 3-4 feet from us, literally burrowed deep in ivy with his back against a wooden fence. As we moved towards him he wiggled under the fence and disappeared.

We dashed back to the house for a brother to help and a slice of turkey to entice, but our search for him was futile.

Kate has mentioned the puppy a few times in the last couple of days...worrying for his safety and wondering if we would ever see him again. I assumed someone had taken him in.

Around 1:30 this afternoon little Ryland and I ran out for a last minute elfing errand. As we were turning back into our driveway he shouted, "Mom! The puppy!" I followed the direction of his pointed fingers and saw the timid animal scurrying across the road and up the hill from our house.

I turned the car quickly to the left and up the hill. We hurriedly parked on the curb, driver's door open and flashers blinking as we followed the pup down the driveway of yet another neighbor. He ran into their carport and found a hiding place under their front left bumper, huddled close to the tire.

This time I decided to ring the doorbell and let the homeowner know we were tracking a pup, lest we find ourselves in a trespassing bind. She kindly offered to help us coax the pup out using a bit of hamburger I had in my car.

As we pulled into the driveway of our house RyGuy held the pup--who turned out to be a girl--close. I ran in and excitedly told Kate, Parker and Daddy Ryland to come and see what we had brought home. My husband said sarcastically, "Let me guess. It's puppy." Well, actually...

The rest of the afternoon became a full-time job--trying to find a home for this sweet, timid little girl. To borrow a phrase from my friend Amanda, "our ark is full," of cats, dogs and a bunny. I just knew in my gut she was meant to be under someone's Christmas tree! I fielded calls, facebook messages and even drove over an hour round trip for someone to meet her to see if she would be a good fit for their family. We bathed her and thought of as many possible homes to contact as we could. Then it was time to dress and go to church.

During our Christmas Eve service tonight, Parker was distraught. In loud whispers, he kept leaning over to me, "What is going to happen to her? I know we can't keep her, but I don't want to take her to Animal Control."

I prayed. I reminded the children to pray. We fielded a few calls on the way to our fancy Waffle House dinner. We showed her photos to several fellow diners. I told the children what I was begging God to be true, "There will be a family that's just right for her. We just have to keep praying and wait and see."

We set a bed up in a kennel for her outside. (It is 58 degrees here.) And then I got a glorious text. Through word of mouth someone had heard about the puppy and Santa is going to deliver it to their little boy tonight. The mutual friend was kind enough to send a photo of the boy with Santa for my children to rejoice over--and then she told me the kicker--this sweet child had been adopted from foster care a few years ago by people who worked with my husband a decade ago.

Our orphaned puppy will be brought in the family for this adopted child--on the birthday of our sweet Jesus. The little boy won't ever forget this Christmas--and neither will we. Our God is certainly one of details--and when we are willing to put ourselves out there, to set aside our agendas or conveniences, He will let us have a front row seat to the Glory of His rescue business.

What a precious picture of seeking, finding, pursuing, caring, trusting and rejoicing as the lost find their way home. This is the way of our Heavenly Father. This is Christmas.

True Christmas Gifts

Several years ago I set a timeline for myself to be finished with Christmas shopping by December 1. While the changing wishes of children make this difficult, I have adhered to this timeline for everyone else on my list ever since. This strategy takes the pressure off an already busy season—and sprinkles my hunting and gathering out across several months—making the experience more enjoyable and budget friendly.

I am not a Black Friday shopper, so Thanksgiving weekend tends to be my space for wrapping the gifts and setting them out (even before we have a tree). This year, as I wrapped dozens of items one of my foster daughters watched with great interest. LuLu* became obsessed with gathering and wrapping gifts as well.

She did not ask me for a penny. Instead, she scoured her earthly treasures (which fit almost entirely into a large plastic tub under her bed) and found items she deemed appropriate for each member of our family—and her biological siblings. With great seriousness, and even greater pride, LuLu wrapped for what felt like three straight days.

She wouldn’t let me see much of what she was doing, but I did glance in a couple of times to find her boxing up a tired pink balloon, partially used chapstick,  handwritten notes and countless kids’ meal toys. As a 7 year old foster kid, LuLu doesn’t own much, but she was generous with what she did possess.

A week before Christmas, a friend of mine who has invested time and love in tutoring the girls offered to take them shopping at the dollar store. Liz really wanted to girls to experience the joy of giving. Again, with great gusto and palpable excitement LuLu embraced the opportunity. She stood two inches taller as she arrived back home with her bags and announced that she was going to get to take candy canes to her whole 2^nd grade class the next day.

It occurred to me that in a world full of treat bags and party favors, she had likely never had the opportunity to be the kid that was doing the giving. Generosity made her feel powerful. She was no longer just the recipient of charity, LuLu was able to feel the joy of giving—and it agreed with her.

Christmas Eve she begged me to let her go ahead and hand out some gifts. I made her wait. Christmas morning, while thrilled with her own haul, her true excitement was over the small packages she was anxious to give. As she started handing them out I could not help but notice the twinkle in her eye. She delivered gift after gift that would hold no real value in the world, but were an absolute treasure in my living room.

My other children delivered heartfelt gifts as well--I particularly enjoyed the card from R that had two arcade tokens taped to it, announcing that he and I were going on a date to the arcade "just the two of us." When the flurry of paper and boxes and bows had been cleared I surveyed the gifts from the hands of the children in my home--art projects from school (thank you teachers), an eclectic assortment of plastic bobble heads, partially used hand lotion, a teddy bear with a homemade tunic, an eraser in the shape of a $50 bill, a tarnished bracelet, a handmade snowflake, Christmas stickers and a clear plastic centipede "that glows in the dark!"

And while I loved the nicer gifts from brand name stores, these are the gifts I will remember. The true meaning of Christmas summed up in an eclectic pile of plastic and paper--giving what you have, enthusiastically, from the heart. This is Christmas and a lesson worth remembering all year long.


*LuLu is a nickname.

Fear Not!

During my pregnancy with the triplets, I realized that my coping mechanism for difficult circumstances is information. For most of the first 30 years of my life up to that point I had coped with hard times by assuming control. As I lay in a hospital bed for 8 weeks with three souls in tiny bodies growing in my womb I knew I was unable to manage the outcome.

So, I dug in. The Internet was not nearly as accessible in those days. There were no iphones or ipads to be lightly held in hands. The Northside Hospital High Risk Perinatal Unit had only one laptop attached to a rolling media cart. It had to be reserved for small increments of time so 30 bedridden Mamas could have the opportunity to use it--and it connected to the Internet via dial up.

Despite all those obstacles, I tried to read as much as I could about preemie issues and possible outcomes for my pre-term babies. I knew it wouldn't change anything, except it made me feel like at least no news that came to me would be a surprise. Research allowed me to feel moderately knowledgeable and thereby prepared.

Of course, none of those websites, articles, etc. mentioned the real crisis I was facing--my own heart failure. (Touche, God, touche...)

You would think that experience plus the ensuing eleven and a half years of parenting would have taught me a lesson--and in many ways the layers have indeed been chipped away through life experience. Yet, this morning I read a post about Linus and his blanket in Charlie Brown Christmas, that God used to carve another chunk of my heart.

The faith of Christmas is proclaiming "Fear Not!" and dropping the blanket.



I took a quiet moment to really go back through the Christmas story and as I sipped my coffee. I really tried to put myself in the shoes of the characters the angels appeared to...the shepherd called to leave the comfort of his fields, Joseph risking public ridicule and Mary...oh, sweet, young Mary...her body, life and soul were to be transformed. She was along for the ride.

I am in an interesting place with the uncertainty and discomfort of foster parenting this week. My heart needed to ponder Mary. I feel inadequate, scared and tired--along for the ride on a journey someone else marked out for me. This is not my comfort zone. Yesterday I pleaded with God to bring me back some joy.

My community rocks. I am truly blessed beyond measure in terms of the support we have been given in this season of life. I can't even list the ways people have stepped up and leaned in to relieve some of the burden in the last few weeks--to make space for me and my bio family to just breathe--while bringing joy to these little girls who are also out of their element. But, honestly, community can't take the load our hearts carry of emotional exhaustion, guilt, fear and dread. Only God can do that--and I think He needs me to let go of the metaphorical blanket I am clutching in order to let Him.

As my girls walk into a different chapter of their lives, I need to model faith, hope and confidence to them. I am realizing that through the 'loss' of my family as I knew it, I am able to empathize with some of their feelings.

My blanket--aptly categorized as a 'security' item--has been my family, order, a peaceful home, having a timeline and a plan.  Sharing all of that has been precious, growth producing and simultaneously scary and unsettling at times...but God has been faithful over and over again to remind me that He Sees and He Provides and He holds the future in His hands.

1 Corinthians 10 (Message translation) reminds me: 
"Forget self confidence: it's useless. Cultivate God confidence...All you need to remember is that God will never let you down; he'll never let you be pushed past your limit; he'll always be there to help you come through it."

As we march (limp?) towards the finish line of 2015 and head into the wild blue yonder of another year, I join Linus in proclaiming with open heart, head held high and hands free from clutching my own illusions of security  "Fear not!"

The Talk

On a perfectly ordinary Wednesday night in April, during the 6 minute commute from our home to church, the announcement came abruptly from the backseat.

"Mom, I have a lot of questions about Santa Claus."

P has started this conversation 4-5 times in the last 18 months. Each time I assured him I would answer his questions honestly, but I wanted him to be certain he was ready to know.

"The answers to these questions take a lot of the magic and wonder away. Are you sure you are ready for all the mystery to be gone?" (His reply a couple of months ago was hysterical. "I think I can tell where this is headed. Can we wait and talk about it again when I am twelve?")

Ryland & I have shaken our heads time and again at the fact this has all gone on so long. We are a family that frequently talks about hard things: the birds and bees, race relations, poverty, social justice...and yet, this is a subject our children have been hesitant to explore. So, we have let them lead us in terms of readiness...trusting we would know when the time came.

Last night, there was a different tone to P's inquisition. I gulped with the recognition that it was indeed time. And, of course, his brother and sister were in the car, we were running late and my husband was out of state.

I told him I would answer his questions when we got to church. Repeating my reminder "I will always tell you the truth. I just want you to consider whether or not you really want to know," I parked, called my husband on speaker phone and offered any child who wanted to the opportunity to leave the conversation to go ahead into church.

P looked relieved. He's been trying to work out the details and logistics of Santa for years. R's eyes were wild with curiosity and a tinge of panic. I am not sure he had ever considered that there might be more to the story.  K was on the fence. She wouldn't make eye contact. The look on her face was uncomfortable. She started to exit the car, but changed her mind.

There inside my Suburban on the curb outside First Presbyterian Church a rite of passage unceremoniously occurred. With the rapt attention of 6 eyes and 3 hearts we talked about the truth of Santa...that there IS magic and wonder in a game that millions of people join together to play where the point is giving without getting any credit. Their dark brown eyes lit up with a new excitement over being old enough to be trusted with the secret.

"I hope we get foster kids at Christmas. I can't wait to help make Christmas full of surprises for a little kid."

As the waves of knowing passed over them, realizations happened and questions came rapid fire.
"So, wait, that time when..."
"OH! So you..."
"I wondered why..."
"And the Easter Bunny..."
"...and the tooth fairy..."
"...elves..."

There were giggles and grins..and a couple of admissions that revealed I wasn't always as slick as I thought I had been.
"This year I saw a text about..."
"One time when I was looking for something I found..."

Honesty was cleansing and cathartic. I had dreaded this day for a decade. Would they feel lied to? Respond with anger? Would they question their faith if I revealed this had been a game?

But the conversation was actually bonding not dividing. Dialogue had put us on the same team. They were old enough to 'get it.' It's not a trick, it is a tradition that uses wonder and fun to teach how amazing it is to give without concern for getting credit.

K observed, "You and Dad really worked hard and we never knew to tell you thank you."

And then, after a strong emphasis on the fact that parents, not other kids, should be the bearer of all this news, I sent them into church. After recapping with my husband via phone, I exhaled and went to the grocery store.

When I picked them up from church an hour later there were a couple more questions, but the mood was light. They scurried in the house and turned on the Wii. There was laughter as they started dancing hip hop. I snapped a picture in my mind then on my phone.

Childhood had not come crashing down in an instant. No, it is a process. One layer at a time as we slowly grow toward adolescence. The dancing reminded me there is still plenty of joy and whimsy remaining.

And last night as I made my 'tuck in' rounds and checked on every little heart individually it was clear it was ok. I couldn't help but smile as I was turning out R's lamp and he looked up sleepily and asked, "...reindeer?" I pursed my lips and slowly shook my head no. He grinned wistfully.

Growing up is indeed bittersweet, but this memory is being filed away as mostly sweet.

Wrapping Up Christmas

Another Christmas is in the books. With a house full of 10 year olds the tone was different this year. There was excitement about Santa (marked by a bit of skepticism) and gifts from relatives (R pronounces this word ree-late-ives) but there was also a greater legitimate understanding of Advent. We didn't use Ann Voskamp's book every night, but the nights we did were rich with conversation, revealing insights into my kiddos' hearts. On the night we discussed the Baals/idols in our hearts one of my children said "I care too much about people cheering for me and thinking I'm good at everything."

Ahem.

Wow.

My favorite thing about Christmas morning was watching them exchange gifts with one another. Our school's book fair was held two weeks ago, so I gave each child a $20 allowance for their siblings and set them loose. (Ideally they would spend their own money, but we aren't doing allowances right now.)

It was so much fun to see them shop. R was decisive and impulsive--finished in under 5 minutes. P took a thoughtful approach, telling me over and over how much he wanted to get just the right thing. K's gifts were personal, yet playful and silly, just like the giver.On Christmas morning the looks on each of their faces as they watched the others open the selected gifts revealed that the joy of giving was becoming real in their hearts.

Some traditions like having a birthday cake for Jesus as part of our Christmas brunch were met with a bit of growniness from my ten-agers, but the tradition of giving a gift to Him was richer.

I am reminded of the beauty of tradition. We ebb and flow in our enjoyment of them, but they remain steadfast as reminders of what we hold dear through the passage of time.

(Can we talk about how I gulped when I saw this picture from our afternoon walk on Christmas Day? He will be my height next Christmas, no doubt...)

And now we bask in the Christmas afterglow. The pressure to do, buy, plan, wrap, bake, party is off. This is the time for pajamas until late in the day. Nestling down, making room for new gifts and reveling in what we have received. We don't want to move on "back to normal" too quickly.

"Don't let the joy of Christmas fade away. Celebrate every day the wonder of God sending his Son on a sacrificial mission of redeeming grace." -Paul David Tripp

Even as I pack up our decorations next week, I pray that I will hold tight to the gifts I received this Christmas. Not the sweaters and jewelry... but the intangibles that this season brings as refreshment to my soul each year.

Jesus received gold, frankincense and myrrh. My heart received insights, peace and memories of moments shared with family and friends. May we, like Mary, take the time to be still and "ponder these things in our heart."

The boxes, bags, lights and bows will soon be stowed away, but may it be said that we are changed.

The Danger of Christmas Expectations

Yesterday I started crying in the check out line at Walmart.

These were not the sweet tears of observing a tender moment. 

They were not tears of heartbreak from witnessing a person in need. 

They were not wistful tears of remembrance from precious memories of Christmas past. 

They were not heartbroken tears over the lives of the childrens' home residents I was on an errand to serve. 

No, these were the frustrated tears of a person who was busy with 'good' things and frustrated with unmet expectations of other people. So many things in this world are worthy of  my tears, but poor service and a packed schedule trumped them all. Yikes.

I left margin in my Christmastime and 'other people' were eating it up. My joy was temporarily replaced by bitterness. The list in my heart of blessings for which to be grateful got eclipsed by a FAR SHORTER list of the things that were not going my way.

Because I am a do-er, learning how to also be a breather-er, notice-er, sit at the feet-er, I am always drawn back to the story of Mary & Martha welcoming Jesus to their home. Maybe it is because I so identify with Martha that I tend to be an apologist for her...but the reality is that she just had a moment that Jesus addressed and we get to dissect.

Martha was a hard working, good hearted, doer of a woman who got distracted. Even as Jesus spoke to her about her attitude, it wasn't the work that got him...it was her focus. She was "worried and upset" having a pity party, casting blame and missing the point.

Like me at WalMart (and truth be told, a few hours later with my children), she lost her perspective. I had great plans for a service project with my kiddos after school and instead of mature-for-their-years cherubs, they acted like wild ten year olds who had just been dismissed for Christmas Break. Real life crashed into my Norman Rockwell ideals. I was undone not so much because of their behavior but because of the perfection I had hoped for. In my quest to make a moment, I instead made my people miserable. 

Thankfully, His mercies are new every morning and today is a brand new day. I have a chance to choose joy today--to exhale and refocus when frustrating situations occur. I will not punish people (in retail or in my family) for not meeting expectations that in most cases they never signed up for. 

My children are out for break. We are BUZZING with energy and anticipation. And I am teetering with a choice to make between stress and peace. I want to chose joy instead of frustration.

Wonder instead of expectation. I can't 'manage' the magic and joy of children. I have to learn to breathe and enjoy.

Lord, please keep my 'plans' realistic,

my patience overflowing,

my list of blessings in the forefront 

and my grievances, worries and upset entrusted to you.

In a noisy world and a chaotic season, keep my heart quiet and focused on love, joy & peace.  

Hearing the Bells

When my children were babies I weighed the pros and cons of various Santa traditions.  My husband & I decided our family's observance of Christmas and Advent had room for both Jesus and Santa. Jesus is supreme day in and day out, for eternity, while the man in the red suit makes for fun memories of anticipation and generosity in the latter part of December. 

Over the years we have had some explaining to do in regards to why Santa only brings three gifts to each child in our home on Christmas morning while some friends, classmates and neighbors get more than three. We've indicated that there is a partnership between Santa & parents, explaining parents play an important role in Santa's choices--price range, number, whether or not a gift is appropriate/allowed, etc. 

Operation Christmas Child shoebox packing and our involvement with a local children's home also required us to address the economics of funding Santa Claus' gift giving. ("Why are WE getting this? Why don't they just ask Santa Claus?") We've explained that some parents are unable to pay for gifts which allows the rest of the community the opportunity to rally around and 'elf,' helping make Christmas happen. 

I have realized how much this summarizes the most beautiful message of Santa Claus: Giving without concern for getting credit. It is the most precious part of the secular Christmas season.

Being my children's trustworthy source of information as they figure out this world is a priority to me. I have sought to honestly answer the questions we are asked while still preserving the mystery and fun of the observance. The wonder of childhood is a gift.

This year, to borrow a term from Polar Express, the sound of the bells has started to fade...but not for my entire trio. While one is all in, one seems quietly suspicious and the third is in full investigative mode. With precocious 10 and a half year olds, the questions have grown more mature, probing and specific. 

Last week my P and I were alone in the car when he started grilling me. He saw some inconsistencies in various explanations and asked me to explain the inner workings of the parent/Santa connection. "I mean, do you Skype with him or text or what?!?"

I reminded him that he could trust me to tell the truth. I told him I would answer all his questions, but wanted him to make sure he was ready for it. I explained that Christmas is different when the wonder is gone and you understand all the inner workings.

Ever thoughtful and circumspect, he exhaled a sigh of an old soul and said, "Mom, based on how you are answering these questions, I think I see where this is headed. But just in case, can I wait two more years and ask you to explain everything when I am twelve?"

I grinned wide and agreed to his request and he hasn't mentioned it since.

It's the most WONDER-ful time of the year!

Claiming Calm in the Christmas Chaos

It's that time of year...when tinsel, lights and lists bring out the best and the worst in each of us.

In a time of year where we proclaim peace, joy and love we so often feel the antithesis of those things. Hectic, rushed, frustrated, overextended. This is not the Christmas that honors Christ.

He is for love unearned but freely given by grace, not family drama and grudges.
He came to free us from our debt not lead us into it.
He is NOT the God of unrest & unmet expectations, but the culmination of all peace and hope.

I am committed to fighting to keep his birthday from becoming characterized by those things.

If we can just find time to sit, breathe and refocus on the manger we know these things are true...but how? I think the first key is intentionality. A few years ago a decided I was not going to let the world steal my Christmas, so I decided as a gift to MYSELF to be finished with shopping by December 1st. An excel spreadsheet and an empty closet in my guest room (now dubbed 'the gift closet' by my family) became my partners in slowly building an arsenal of gifts throughout the year. It has made me more thoughtful about the things I choose because I have all year to gather. It has also made budgeting for Christmas much better. A little here and there spread across many months (and close out sales) adds up. The key to not overbuying is keeping a list so you don't forget what you have.

Realistic expectations are also a must. You cannot do ALL the Christmas things. The hard thing about December is that there are so many wonderful ideas and experiences... Homemade granola, advent calendars, service projects, making popcorn garland and handmade ornaments, nightly devotionals, best neighborhood light display, Christmas musical, ladies' luncheons, cookie swaps, adopting a family, Angel tree, Christmas jars, caroling, elves every night, going to that live nativity, a birthday party for Jesus, hand addressing Christmas cards to 200, the perfect pinterest-inspired teacher gifts, parades, gift exchanges, tree lightings, hosting a party in your home AND a peaceful heart...on top of all your regular responsibilities? This is the beginning of a December nervous breakdown. Some things have got to give.

I was thinking about this yesterday and realized that when it all starts to feel out of control we DO still have power to make choices that turn things around. God gave us this really great two letter word: No. It can be said with grace. It doesn't make you a Scrooge, it actually can be an indicator of wisdom, bravery and a harbinger of peace and a restorer of joy.

I want my objective to be meaningful marks on my childrens' hearts rather than simply keeping others' traditions. So, I asked my family what they loved most about Christmas. We made a list. Some really great seasonal events and activities didn't make the cut. But you know what did? Advent and time with family. Cutting out some of the fluff left margin for impromptu cuddles on the sofa and a MUCH more peaceful heart.

I am not advocating irresponsibility and a lack of commitment. I am lobbying for thoughtfulness and boundaries.

I looked at items on my personal list and asked: What's the point? Is this worth the cost (to my budget, my schedule, my spirit)? What brings joy? What expresses love in meaningful ways to the people in my life? What honors God? And then I either let some things go or decided we'd do something comparable at another time of year. Why does December get the lock on all these fun service projects anyway? Why not spread some of them out?

And here's the great thing: My list will not look like yours. This year's list doesn't look like other years/seasons of my family's life. I've let go of some things that would make others shriek in horror...like gift wrapping. Mine is truly awful. I've basically given up on bows and often write directly on the package in Sharpie in lieu of cute labels.

I know! I tried for a while, but it was frustrating and expensive for no other reason than what other people would think. It is not my thing. And I am Ok with that. Letting go of package presentation freed up more time for things that bring joy...like cards!

This year I switched to postcards because they cost less, didn't take as long and the postage was cheaper. I'm using the savings for gas to drive my big Suburban to Atlanta for our Santa visit because he's the one we've seen every year. That may seem silly to you, but it matters to me and my tribe.

I have declined some invitations to larger events in lieu of smaller ones where real, meaningful conversation and connection can happen. I have accepted invitations that were inconvenient because they would speak love to people I care about.

As I age and grow I am learning the importance of making thoughtful decisions rather than simply trying to drink from a peppermint flavored firehose.

The bottomline is that if we are honest, much of the Christmas chaos in our lives is self generated. There are certainly factors we cannot control, but don't let those deceive you into missing the ones you can.

There are still a couple of weeks. Go reclaim your Christmas with the peace, love and joy we profess! It is worth it.

Let There Be Lights!

After so many years together, my husband and I have found ourselves with some clearly defined roles within our home. When it comes to Christmas decorating he is the "light man" and I am in charge of placing the ornaments. Typically when it comes time to put all the seasonal décor away we take on these same areas of responsibility. I remove all the ornaments and he comes behind me and takes care of the lights.

This weekend he has been working like a madman (45 of the last 60 hours, but who's counting). So, the tree clean up felt like something I should take on without him. Twenty frustrating minutes into the task, this is what I had accomplished.

And I still had another tree to tackle after this!

It seems the secret to the gorgeous sparkling lights my man gives us each year is that they are everywhere! There were 9 strands on this 7 foot tree...and they were wrapped over and around and through the branches so thoroughly that I had to walk away a couple of times and regroup. I have no doubt it took me much longer to remove them than it took my husband to put them there in the first place.

There were so many layers and multiple points of crossover that removal was very complicated. And the result had been gorgeous. The tree had depth and sparkle.

It struck me that this is a terrific metaphor for parenting. The lights reminded me of the way we should be wrapping our children's hearts in truth.

It is my prayer that as life, circumstances, false teaching and doubt try to dim them--it will prove to be a frustratingly difficult task because there is simply light woven in and out of their hearts--from top to bottom, trunk to tip. I pray that they "may shine like stars in a crooked a depraved generation" because the light of truth is completely entangled in them. May they, too, have depth and sparkle that is extraordinary.

That doesn't happen by accident. It is an intentional work. And I love the Christmas light metaphor because it reminds me that it is less about a perfect system--and more about simply covering them up.

May we seize the plethora of moments we are given each day to teach, instruct, encourage, love and ground them in deep roots of truth. I have no doubt the results will be glorious!

Messy Christmas

Last night I was still unsure how today was going to play out. The children were feeling better, but "my plans" continued to unravel. After dinner, when my husband asked me about our traditional birthday cake for Jesus I realized I hadn't made those arrangements. Unable to run errands for days, a few things had fallen through the cracks.

One of the upsides to being stuck at home for a week is that I cleaned out/organized all sorts of things--including my pantry. I realized I had ingredients on hand to take on a 'new tradition.' Instead of our usual red velvet cake from a local bakery, I would try to make a cake from scratch. (I confess I'd never attempted this before.) As I used the last of our butter I realized I was one ingredient shy. With most of the batter already in my mixer, neighbors out of pocket and a fruitless search by my husband for an open grocery store, I made a substitution and hoped for the best. It seems to be a common theme in the life of this woman who has had to learn to let go of A LOT of expectations in the last few years.

Mentally, I started beating myself up. You call yourself an intentional parent? You say that you are more about Jesus than Santa...and you forgot the cake? It's His birthday...You didn't forget the presents, have you forgotten HIM?

I have much more grace for others than I have for myself!

Mourning our inability to take our contagious children to a Christmas Eve service we settled in for cuddle time on the sofa. The Looney Toons Christmas special wasn't exactly the focus my husband & I hoped to send the kiddos to bed with--so taking a page from my friend Cabell, who believes in playing silly games for gifts at Christmas,we played a little Christmas story trivia before bed to establish the gift unwrapping order for the next morning.

With your-name-is-your-buzzer intensity, we reviewed the whole Christmas story, detail by detail through questions and answers. It was certainly not your traditional Daddy in the leather chair in front of the fire moment--but it was ours--and it was effective with nine year olds. For 30 minutes we discussed the miracles of Christmas. Now that the subject of birds and bees has been tackled, the virgin birth makes a lot more sense. We talked not only about the three gifts, but why they were chosen and what they symbolized. The quiz format really allowed a glimpse into how much of the meaning of Christmas our kids grasp (and don't).

Our dry erase tally marks weren't Pinterest worthy, but that wasn't the point. Frankly, most of our Christmas this year has been bare bones, back to basics, a little messy and full of last minute adjustments. During a quiet, sigh-exhaling moment on my stairwell yesterday I asked God to show me a lesson from all this. I can endure just about anything if there's a promise of meaning attached.

As I was going to bed last night I saw the title of this post from Brene Brown in my twitter feed: The Magic is in the Mess. Yes! My heart fluttered. That is it.

"This time of year can be a perfectionism minefield. My expectations always need radical reality-checking  and that normally comes in the form of a total meltdown. The good news is that I often have a lot more fun on the backside of my breakdown when I start letting go and leaning into the crazy." ~Brene Brown

I prayed God would give me this attitude today. When I walked into a room and felt my chest tighten that "this room, too, had been hit by a Christmas frenzy hurricane," I exhaled with the reminder that REAL people were living REAL life, making REAL memories in this space.

Our children haven't missed a beat. They are too busy lapping up the family time...the warmth, the love and the lights to mourn the loss of tradition. They were full of hope and anticipation that allowed them to remember what I was tempted to forget...regardless of the circumstances, Christmas was coming.

As I honestly confess them here, I am aware my first-world problems of 'missing our traditions' are scarcely worth mentioning.

Today I've thought of friends battling cancer, newly divorced parents trying to navigate the holidays with broken hearts, the 38 children at our local group home who cannot be with their families of origin, people who are lonely, sad, feeling forgotten.

THAT is real messiness.
And that is the miracle of Christmas.

The 'unplanned' pregnancy of an obscure teenaged girl.
The census that required travel when she was full term.
The lack of vacancies that led the young family to a stinky manger.

Christmas is more than just another holiday...because Jesus' story was a mess. And He came into a broken, chaotic world.

And the magic is not in the squeaky clean, flawless, beautiful traditions...Of course He is worthy of our best, but the miracle? Indeed it is in the mess.

And guess, what? It did come to pass. No fevers today. We had the breakfast I had planned. The modified cake was delicious and family was still able to visit  (albeit wearing masks for safety). Santa Claus came, memories were made and Jesus' birthday was honored here.

Merry messy Christmas!

The Christmas I Didn't Plan

My house is decorated.

The gifts are wrapped.
 

 Our table Christmas table is set.

 

And our lists have been personally delivered to Santa.

But somewhere along the way, my plans have been completely nixed...

R (who had a tummy bug last week) was diagnosed with the flu today.

And shortly after we returned from Immediate Care, as I was getting R settled, I found P here...

It quickly became apparent that while his flu from last week has moved along, it was replaced by the stomach virus.

 

And as we have laid low today, and I've considered the plans we must cancel...the Christmas Eve service we won't be able to attend as a family and the grandparents we can't risk exposing by hosting in our home... I've tried to keep a sense of humor.

 

So much of Christmas is centered around tradition, many of which we are missing this year, but I have inadvertently found myself with the type of celebration we long for in the madness of overbooked holiday schedules...

quiet,
private,
simple
and low key.

I choose to accept the gift and drink it in.

(But I sure hope my babies feel better soon!)

From our Lysol, Purell and Clorox saturated home to yours...

Merry Christmas!

This Mama's Christmas Prayer

Lord, in this season where we proclaim Your gifts of peace, love and joy may we not forget to be beacons of that to those we hold most dear.

I am convicted that I feel it all starting to sweep me away. As I talk to my children about the real meaning of the season--I cringe that there are discrepancies in the way they see me respond to it all. I tell them it is about Jesus and the way He changed the world--but I want them to see how He is still changing me. So, this morning (and maybe every morning for the next few weeks), I pray.

When I look at the calendar and the countless details and lists of things we need to bring for this gathering or that, when I start to feel the anxiety welling up within my chest, I pray your will give me a grounding perspective of PEACE.

As the endless supply of sugar, changes in schedule and electric excitement of the season have my children bouncing off the walls, when the stress of those around me begins to collide into mine, may I show your unchanging LOVE.

Instead of heavy sighs at what needs to be done next--I pray that you will bless me with the ability to be fully present in the moment--with JOY.

The holidays are a bustling time, but they don't have to be crazy. There are so many (wonderful, fun) distractions. I pray my eyes will stay steadfastly focused on what is important--Your Light in and through me--365 days a year.

Amen.

Watering Trees

I love Thanksgiving, Advent and Christmas. The lights, the excitement, the wonder--the music, the warmth, the smells--the memories of old and the realization that sweet ones are being actively made.

But it takes work.
Weeks of shopping, followed by hours of wrapping.
Decorating.
Baking.
Planning.
Making.
And don't get me started on addressing, stamping and stuffing Christmas cards.

Christmas can get a bad rap for the toll it takes on schedules and our pocketbooks. And yet, even when we work to be intentional about our activities and expenditures--to honor God in it all--that can be incredibly time/emotion consuming as well.

But it is worth it.

When I sit in front of the fireplace watching a Christmas special with my kiddos--the scent of evergreen in the air and twinkling lights casting a glow to the room-- I count all the work as a worthwhile investment.

When my trio squeal with delight as they bound down the stairs to discover a visit from our silly elves, I am no longer counting the cost. I am reveling in the payout.

The thought struck me this morning when I was doing my least favorite Christmas chore...watering the trees.

I love a fresh, live tree. The scent is an essential part of the season for me...but I abhor the contortionism it requires to get those things watered. Every few days in December I find myself prostrate on the floor, prickly branches near my eyeballs, stray pine needles in my hair, precariously close to spilling water on presents and floors.

I'm not sure what's stranger...that I asked my daughter to photograph this or that I posted it on the Internet.

It is a less than glamorous perspective of Christmas.  Yet, when I climb out, stand up, brush off the pine needles and step back I know that even this lowly, awkward job has a purpose.

This is a true first world problem...but it serves as a metaphor for so much more. I thought about Mary...surely she could not comprehend how a virgin pregnancy, a painful camel ride at full term or childbirth in a stable would look from the perspective of history.

And I thought more practically about daily wife/motherhood duties. Nursing little ones through stomach bugs, the monotony of nitty gritty housecleaning, taking out the trash, teaching life lessons to little wounded hearts...it is all part of the often thankless and unglamorous job.

But when we step back and survey the landscape--how little ones are maturing in their faiths and their lives--how a house is embraced as a haven from the world--how our hearts are being changed as the Lord guides us through loving theirs--it is a perspective that changes everything.

Let's go water some trees!

A Gift for Him

I know that Christmas Day has passed and many people are moving on, but I can't let the season end without recording this new tradition. (And I am afraid I will forget to write about this next year if I wait!)

Last week, my friend Courtney shared this link from Delia Creates regarding giving Christmas gifts to Jesus. It is such a simple but memorable exercise: Have everyone write down something they can give the Lord and wrap it in a box as a Christmas gift for Him before you get into the more commercial gift exchange.

I loved the idea because it really seemed to practically express what I had been wrestling with through Advent: How can I help my children (and myself) really 'get it' that Christmas is not OUR birthday?

 
The implementation was so simple and sweet. Over our Christmas Eve dinner of chicken brunswick stew, I asked everyone to consider something they could give to the Lord this year.

We have been fans of the book Ronnie Wilson's Gift by Francis Chan for sometime, so the children's immediate response was to think of something to physically give to someone else. We talked just a little about how it could be something difficult we committed to God or a new habit we could work on as an expression of our love for the Lord. Their answers were precious!

K: "I promise to play or cheer up others when they are left out."
R: "I will trust Him and not just wowre (worry)"
P: "I will try not to use a bad tone of voice."
Seeing these written in their 8 year old handwriting, misspellings and all...priceless!

I am not the craftiest girl, so I recycled a box and ribbon from a gift I'd already opened. Each of us wrote our offerings on gift tags I'd received from Cabell. (Courtney mentioned that her family wrote their gifts on the back of a family picture. I may copy that next year!) After dinner everyone excitedly wrote down their offerings and we put them in the box, said a little prayer of commitment and thanks, then slipped our package under the tree.

As I put away Christmas decorations, I plan to pack our gift box and revisit it on Christmas Eve next year. I loved this precious alternative to "New Year's Resolutions" and hope it can become a special part of our Annual Christmas tradition.

These commitments have already sparked a couple of conversations with the children. It was especially powerful for them to hear what my husband & I each were offering to the Lord.

As time goes by in my parenting journey I am continually reminded how the simplest ideas can be the most powerful. I am grateful to Courtney & Delia for passing this one along!

Christmas Morning

I have been absent here in order to be really present in my offline life this past week. 

It has been so very good for my soul. I hope tonight to sit by the fire (although it is a balmy 50ish degrees here in Georgia) and reflect on some of the significant themes of this final week of Advent.

But this morning, I just wanted to share a little slice of heaven in my home.

As my children stood at the top of the stairs ready to see what Santa brought it occurred to me, THIS is the picture of Advent I want to embrace:

joyful, electric anticipation of what is to come.

The 'what' for the Believer is actually a HE.
He was dressed in rags rather than a faux fur red suit.
The Giver we celebrate today brings many, many gifts to our lives.

grace

 love

 joy

 truth

 freedom

peace

Let us run to Him each morning with an 8 year old Christmas kind of joyful expectation and trust.
His gifts are good and given to us in love.

Merry, merry Christmas!

Merry Christmas!

My children are on break. The house is full of excitement, laughter and music. We have been cooking, playing board games, watching Christmas specials & laying low. Tomorrow we will start hosting and visiting family and dear old friends throughout the Southeast. Christmastime is here!

I have been relishing my soul's relieved sigh to be off the hamster wheel of life and back to basics: faith, family, friends & food. Life seems simple, pure and sweet. These are the elements of our culture's Christmas celebration that fill my heart to the point of overflowing--the feelings that Christmas songs seem to be about.

As I was thinking about it tonight (with a silly grin on my face and gooey ham ball mess on my hands) I started thinking about this passage:  

You yourselves have been taught by God to love one another,  for that indeed is what you are doing...But we urge you, brothers, to do this more and more,  and to aspire to live quietly, and to mind your own affairs, and to work with your hands, as we instructed you,  so that you may walk properly before outsiders..." I Thessalonians 4:9b-12a ESV

It is not a 'traditional' Christmas verse, but it is what my heart has been feeling--joy in the simplicity. Letting go of the elements of the rat race that are exhausting and distracting has brought great freedom. The verse has become my Christmas mission for the next few weeks: love others, live quietly, mind my affairs and work with my hands. Frankly I hope it will become a better approach to life as God has intended in 2013.

Not sure how present I will be online in the next few weeks, still praying God will show me what 'living quietly' looks like for one who likes to live out loud. :-) Wondering what it might look like to allow the Spirit to just press mute as I take Mary's cue to "treasure and ponder things in my heart" for a bit.
We'll see.

Until then, may the baby born in the manger be a staggering reminder of the lengths the Lord went to in His pursuit of His people. We are His beloved children. May we treat each other as such and revel in the magnificence of that truth. Glory to God!

Merriest of Christmases to you and yours!

The Gift

Most of us have people in our lives with whom relationships frequently feel more like work than love. My friend Priscilla refers to people like this as "heavenly sandpaper." I love this description because the truth is that relationships with heavenly sandpaper people are one of the great sanctifiers of life on this Earth. They expose the places in our heart that still need to be surrendered to His healing. They remind us of our need for Him.

It is easy to love people that love us back and bring out the best in us. It is another thing entirely to enter into relationship with someone where it doesn't always feel good. We don't understand them. We feel misunderstood. Every word and action is heavily scrutinized and analyzed. We try. We fail. It's so exhausting that sometimes we simply give up.

We are broken sinful people who bring our hurts and histories into every relationship. When our stuff bangs against someone elses' stuff, we often hit a nerve and life gets interesting.

As we consider who the hevenly sandpaper may be in our lives, it is humbling to remember we are almost certainly being used in that role in someone else's life. Ugh!

I have a person in my life/family who is on the run and in a season of utter rebellion. As I have tried to pursue this person, rejection has come in many forms. (Enough that I am certain it is not all just in my head :-) Although I am aware of pain and struggle in this particular person's life, and that I am not the only family member feeling jilted, I am still hurt by their rebuff.  Due to distance and other factors, I am usually only in their presence during holidays--and their appearance even then is spotty.

Ugly confession time: Last year I felt like their behavior was so unnecessarily rude towards me that I actually contemplated not buying them a Christmas gift. (Sigh, I know. UGLY.) Because of the relationship it would have been an obvious omission that would have made a statement. While licking my wounds and indulging in a pity party of self, I mentally listed all the reasons why I could be excused for ommitting them from my list: Their track record proved they wouldn't be appreciative. They likely wouldn't even show up for the family event. If they don't want me in their life, I will grant their request! I huffed to myself. I may have even briefly contemplated a big letter airing my grievances and a Bible with passages highlighted about love and kindness. Yikes.

Of course, I knew in my spirit this was not at all a godly response. So after prayer, God led me to do just the opposite. It was a decision to be loving when my wounded pride wanted to pout. It became my mission to find a gift that this person would really like--something that indicated I wanted to 'know' them and care for them as they are, not just as I wished they would be. I left my comfort zone and entered stores I had never visited to buy something they would really like. It wasn't about the expense (less than $35), it was the attention paid to knowing them.

Christmas started the way I expected. No eye contact. No acknowledgement of my greeting. When the gifts were exchanged, however, I saw a smile. Ice melted considerably.  I even got a one armed hug and genuine thank you. I rejoiced in the precious lesson. I was reminded that putting yourself out there is risky. You aren't guaranteed that your pursuit won't be rejected. Pride has to be checked. Love has to win.

I wish I could say this is where the story ends...but one year later, the relationship is even more distant. As this prodigal has pursued their wild living, many of us have been literally blocked from their life. So, when time came to make my Christmas list this year I stared at the name and found myself again contemplating what and why to gift. And in the quiet of my heart I felt the Lord whisper, "Jennifer, don't you get it? The unmerritted gift from the pursuer to the prodigal...THIS is the grace of Christmas."

God gave a priceless gift in His pursuit of us.
It wasn't based on our good behavior, our gratitude or our response.
The baby in the manger was the ultimate gift of grace and love to a prodigal people.

I confess my gift this year isn't nearly as personal, but it will be given in humility. I know I will not receive a wrapped gift in response, but THIS lesson is a gift I won't soon forget.

Giving Good Gifts

Since the Santa post earlier this week, I have wrapped up buying for the kids. It would be fiction to pretend I abandoned all materialism and consumer temptations--but I did think and pray about things a lot more than usual. That's progress, right?

As I was finalizing preparations for the kids I started asking God to show me what the wrestling match over Christmas morning was really about in my heart. I came to the realization that while a large measure of my motivation is simply that it is fun to give good gifts to our children, there is another less flattering aspect.

This year, my husband and I have commented several times that, "We don't know how many more Santa Christmases we'll have." It seems to play into one of the challenges we have in raising all our same-aged children at once. We live in the knowledge that this is our only shot and operate out of a mentality of 'making it count.' While remembering to seize the day is usually a philosophy to which I would ascribe, I am realizing that we've allowed some fear & control issues to creep in.

We know inherently that as children age, innocence is lost. Reality comes crashing in. People get disappointed. Life gets hard. Hearts are broken. But now, at eight, we have the illusion of control over what our children experience. We can make magic--especially in this season of elves, Santa & flying reindeer.

It is a window that seems to be closing faster by the day...which leads to our fear.

These are the days our children will look back upon. This is their fleeting chapter called childhood. And like us, they will overly romanticize the role 'Christmas morning' played in all of it. It is one day of 365 in each year.

I really don't mean to negate all of the playful, exciting parts of the season. Frankly, we had a precious time visiting with Santa this afternoon. I just want to keep it all in perspective.

The bottom line God keeps reminding me of is this: Giving good gifts to our children is not confined to Christmas morning. Wracking up bills once a year for soon forgotten toys doesn't make you a good parent. Anyone with a credit line can do that. The gifts that will serve them most of all are the ones we give through our sacrifice and love all year through:
Pointing them towards the Lord.
Pursuing strong marriages.
Valuing education.
Teaching them to love wisdom.
Being a part of community.
Modeling love for our neighbors.
Self control.
Stability.
Unconditional love.

These gifts aren't always fun to give and they don't come topped with shiny bows, but they are lasting & priceless.

Friday Fun with Little St Nick

Because our Christmas celebration is not complete without pulling this oldie out of the vault.

 

My little man, R, was very serious about Little St.Nick when he was 5 years old...

If you don't have time for the whole thing, you must go to 1:14 for "Wun, Wun Weindeer..." You're welcome. :-)