I'm pretty sure I should be doing other things right now... like packing, finish making some presents, and a myriad of other things. Because Saturday morning when we shove off on our expedition southward - snow or no snow, comes whether I'm ready or not.
But I'm here. Writing. Thinking. The idea of traveling with children that are under the weather is weighty enough for me to realize that sickness is nothing I can plan against. (Trust me!! I would love to place each of my children in an anti-germ bubble before any trip!)
So, I am acquiescing to the idea that I have tried to keep them healthy to the best of my ability. The rest is up to the One who created their immune systems.
It's pretty freeing, actually... admitting what was already true to begin with. :)
So. I'm now going to get back to my packing and other things, resting in my Fathers plan that is better than mine - even if does involve sick kids.
Showing posts with label Christmas. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Christmas. Show all posts
Thursday, December 20, 2012
Thursday, December 13, 2012
Surprised by Christmas!
I’m surprised by Christmas this year.
Not the “Wow! I didn’t realize it’s Christmas already!”, but “Wow. I feel closer to the manger this year.”
If you were to step into our house this year, you would not find a freshly sawn 8 foot Fraser decorated with strands and strands of white lights accented with handmade country ornaments as in previous years. Faux-evergreen garland would normally wind around the banister, adorn the top of our china hutch, and hang over the slider. Every room would have something “Christmas-y” in it. (Of which there is always some decoration who doesn’t get on the flight back up to the attic come January.)
This year… there are three little trees on our coffee table: a red, a green and a pink one. They were carefully decorated by little fingers from ornaments saved for them from previous years. There is one strand of lights (which is half lit) draped over and around the trees. A beautiful poinsettia decorates our dining room table, and the much requested box of Christmas books has been opened and given a prominent place with easy access.
The piece de resistance of this living room is under the three little trees. If you look there, on the bottom shelf of the coffee table, you will find The Christmas Box. Inside are the stuffed figures who tell of the magnificent promise, the humble manger, the rowdy shepherds, the tender couple and the precious Baby.
Make no mistake, there are 3 large tubs filled with decorations still sitting in the attic. The tree is still attached to its trunk somewhere in the woods. There are strands of lights that all work in some store. But last year, all of those things were amazing and beautiful but in the end, brought me no closer to the manger.
This year, I am filled with an awe that no decoration can take credit for. Before you jump to the conclusion that Christmas decor is an anchor weighing down your very soul, I do not believe that those things (in and of themselves) are bad – at all! They are beautiful expressions of celebration. The catch is to remember what and Who you are celebrating.
The thrill of my evening came as I’m dishing out Blueberry Buckle and watching the kids open the Christmas Box. They were giddy!! Jonny took each of them out and organized them by size (like any good engineer would). Chloe looked over them to make sure they were all there and that Michael hadn’t tossed one of them behind a couch yet. But as they handled them, their eyes got that “far-off” expression as they remembered the Story.
Isn’t that it? Story. The Ultimate STORY!
I don’t know about you, but I love it when someone tells me a story. But the BEST part comes when at the end the storyteller punches it with “this really happened!” I sit there in amazement replaying the story in my head, reeling with “This wasn’t just a story – it really happened!” Somehow it makes the story even more special! The characters and setting, plot and device, villain and hero were real people.
There are many “stories” that float around this time of year. Great stories, funny stories, but mostly they are fiction – maybe even inspired by fact – but at the end of the day – fiction.
I am fixated with the Story.
The perfect (not one sin – ever!) Baby in the filthy dirty animal feed trough, the new mom who had to figure out the mothering thing as she went along, the young husband who took a huge leap to marry his pregnant fiancée and couldn’t even touch her for 33 days after she gave birth so he could fulfill the Law, the hotel manager who was so busy with the mundane of his little life that he missed out on the supernatural, the unforgiving law that forced a pregnant woman on a difficult journey, the rough and tough fight-off-lions-and-bears-with-just-a-stick yet no one wanted to associate with them shepherds, the king who saw himself above the law, the wise and discerning star-gazers who were sensitive to God’s direction, the elderly man who spent every day of his life waiting expectantly to see The Promise before his very eyes… the most amazing story, is it not?!
But wait… the BEST part? It’s ALL TRUE - each and every bit actually happened in a little place called Israel!! This is not just a nice religious legend so that old ladies can feel comforted. That perfect Baby really came - fully God and fully man. He came for one purpose and one purpose only – to be my Savior. Before the beginning of time, His Father knew we’d screw up His perfect world with this nasty junk called sin. He knew we were hopelessly lost in mire of our own making and worse? separated forever from Him.
But God.
He planned that His perfect Son would be the only payment we’d need for our awful sin. Even when we hated Him and we’d eventually curse Him and kill Him on a cross, He loved us and died for us.
It’s MY Story! The payment that guarantees me eternal life through nothing I could ever do came at an awful cost. The Father gave up His beloved Son for me.
The very least I can do is push the mundane junk of my day aside, huddle close to the manger, worship Him, and long for the day when I can see His face.
Not the “Wow! I didn’t realize it’s Christmas already!”, but “Wow. I feel closer to the manger this year.”
If you were to step into our house this year, you would not find a freshly sawn 8 foot Fraser decorated with strands and strands of white lights accented with handmade country ornaments as in previous years. Faux-evergreen garland would normally wind around the banister, adorn the top of our china hutch, and hang over the slider. Every room would have something “Christmas-y” in it. (Of which there is always some decoration who doesn’t get on the flight back up to the attic come January.)
This year… there are three little trees on our coffee table: a red, a green and a pink one. They were carefully decorated by little fingers from ornaments saved for them from previous years. There is one strand of lights (which is half lit) draped over and around the trees. A beautiful poinsettia decorates our dining room table, and the much requested box of Christmas books has been opened and given a prominent place with easy access.
The piece de resistance of this living room is under the three little trees. If you look there, on the bottom shelf of the coffee table, you will find The Christmas Box. Inside are the stuffed figures who tell of the magnificent promise, the humble manger, the rowdy shepherds, the tender couple and the precious Baby.
Make no mistake, there are 3 large tubs filled with decorations still sitting in the attic. The tree is still attached to its trunk somewhere in the woods. There are strands of lights that all work in some store. But last year, all of those things were amazing and beautiful but in the end, brought me no closer to the manger.
This year, I am filled with an awe that no decoration can take credit for. Before you jump to the conclusion that Christmas decor is an anchor weighing down your very soul, I do not believe that those things (in and of themselves) are bad – at all! They are beautiful expressions of celebration. The catch is to remember what and Who you are celebrating.
The thrill of my evening came as I’m dishing out Blueberry Buckle and watching the kids open the Christmas Box. They were giddy!! Jonny took each of them out and organized them by size (like any good engineer would). Chloe looked over them to make sure they were all there and that Michael hadn’t tossed one of them behind a couch yet. But as they handled them, their eyes got that “far-off” expression as they remembered the Story.
Isn’t that it? Story. The Ultimate STORY!
I don’t know about you, but I love it when someone tells me a story. But the BEST part comes when at the end the storyteller punches it with “this really happened!” I sit there in amazement replaying the story in my head, reeling with “This wasn’t just a story – it really happened!” Somehow it makes the story even more special! The characters and setting, plot and device, villain and hero were real people.
There are many “stories” that float around this time of year. Great stories, funny stories, but mostly they are fiction – maybe even inspired by fact – but at the end of the day – fiction.
I am fixated with the Story.
The perfect (not one sin – ever!) Baby in the filthy dirty animal feed trough, the new mom who had to figure out the mothering thing as she went along, the young husband who took a huge leap to marry his pregnant fiancée and couldn’t even touch her for 33 days after she gave birth so he could fulfill the Law, the hotel manager who was so busy with the mundane of his little life that he missed out on the supernatural, the unforgiving law that forced a pregnant woman on a difficult journey, the rough and tough fight-off-lions-and-bears-with-just-a-stick yet no one wanted to associate with them shepherds, the king who saw himself above the law, the wise and discerning star-gazers who were sensitive to God’s direction, the elderly man who spent every day of his life waiting expectantly to see The Promise before his very eyes… the most amazing story, is it not?!
But wait… the BEST part? It’s ALL TRUE - each and every bit actually happened in a little place called Israel!! This is not just a nice religious legend so that old ladies can feel comforted. That perfect Baby really came - fully God and fully man. He came for one purpose and one purpose only – to be my Savior. Before the beginning of time, His Father knew we’d screw up His perfect world with this nasty junk called sin. He knew we were hopelessly lost in mire of our own making and worse? separated forever from Him.
But God.
He planned that His perfect Son would be the only payment we’d need for our awful sin. Even when we hated Him and we’d eventually curse Him and kill Him on a cross, He loved us and died for us.
It’s MY Story! The payment that guarantees me eternal life through nothing I could ever do came at an awful cost. The Father gave up His beloved Son for me.
The very least I can do is push the mundane junk of my day aside, huddle close to the manger, worship Him, and long for the day when I can see His face.
Saturday, December 3, 2011
Greatest Gift Ever!
The other day, my little girl looked up at me and asked, "Mommy, why did Jesus have to come as a baby?" My heart did a little jump. I live for these moments! I talk and teach, but I know it is only when she asks the questions that are on her heart that she truly learns.
The question comes from the child who knows the Story in detail and is a "know it all" rather like her mother was at her age. Instinctively, I knew there was more to this question than just her words. She is trying to mesh what she hears at school and what she hears at church and what she knows we believe.
So, I asked her what babies can do. We talked about how babies can do nothing for themselves and need their moms for their very life. I then asked her what Jesus can do. She smiled and told me how there isn't anything He can't do, that He said words and the earth began. I swallowed the lump in my throat as I was reminded again of His great sacrifice - leaving Heaven and ultimate power and glory for the dirt of our world, to have to have His diapers changed, to need His mother for His very sustenance.
As we talked, her blue eyes became thoughtful. She turned over in her mind the idea that He had everything and He gave it all up to be a baby. I asked her what happened when He grew up. She told me how He would become a man who would die on the cross for our sin. I cupped her face in my hands when I asked her why could He die for our sin but not anyone else? Her eyes grew large as she answered - because only He was perfect. He never ever sinned. Never disobeyed His mom. Never fought with His brother. I smiled.
She's understanding. She's putting it together. She's seeing beyond the Santa and Rudolph to the precious reality of the Greatest Gift Ever!
But she doesn't know that she's given her mommy the greatest gift ever - the privilege to speak answers to her questions and in the process remind myself that He gave up Heaven to save me. Me - the no good sinner who hated Him. Oh how He loves me!
My challenge today? To be still and remember His gift when the craziness swirls most.
The question comes from the child who knows the Story in detail and is a "know it all" rather like her mother was at her age. Instinctively, I knew there was more to this question than just her words. She is trying to mesh what she hears at school and what she hears at church and what she knows we believe.
So, I asked her what babies can do. We talked about how babies can do nothing for themselves and need their moms for their very life. I then asked her what Jesus can do. She smiled and told me how there isn't anything He can't do, that He said words and the earth began. I swallowed the lump in my throat as I was reminded again of His great sacrifice - leaving Heaven and ultimate power and glory for the dirt of our world, to have to have His diapers changed, to need His mother for His very sustenance.
As we talked, her blue eyes became thoughtful. She turned over in her mind the idea that He had everything and He gave it all up to be a baby. I asked her what happened when He grew up. She told me how He would become a man who would die on the cross for our sin. I cupped her face in my hands when I asked her why could He die for our sin but not anyone else? Her eyes grew large as she answered - because only He was perfect. He never ever sinned. Never disobeyed His mom. Never fought with His brother. I smiled.
She's understanding. She's putting it together. She's seeing beyond the Santa and Rudolph to the precious reality of the Greatest Gift Ever!
But she doesn't know that she's given her mommy the greatest gift ever - the privilege to speak answers to her questions and in the process remind myself that He gave up Heaven to save me. Me - the no good sinner who hated Him. Oh how He loves me!
My challenge today? To be still and remember His gift when the craziness swirls most.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)