'Twas the Write Before Christmas: All is Calm

It's unbelievable, she thinks

and no one would understand

try as she may to explain

that beneath a star bright shining against an inky sky

amid the busyness of crowds moving through the streets

surrounded by bundles of hay

that stillness

and peace

and beauty

shine brighter than any star in little eyes staring widely back into her own.

It's unbelievable

really

as the world rushes by

how the moment she held him in her arms

fresh from her womb

fresh from heaven

it all seemingly stopped spinning.

Breathing in His scent

in the midst of the chaos

in the craze in the dizziness of life

how all is calm in the moments

she spends meeting His gaze with her own

and

holding open her palms to be filled with Life.

Celebrating Christmas: The Secret of Gift Giving

Some days I think the wrong things are overflowing inside these four walls we call home:

boxes of Legos

and recycling bins

and mailboxes filled with ads, some bills and lots of catalogues

and baskets of laundry

and large plastic boxes filled with the tokens we've accumulated along the years.

The oldest, he complains about not having a cookie alongside his ice cream.

The little one, his temper flares when turn off the TV after an entire morning of Curious George.

The parents, we scoff whenever the Internet has slowed to a crawl or when there is mud tracked from small boots across the hallway floors.

And my own heart, it groans at the thought of yet another sinkfull of dishes, high and towering after a hearty, filling meal.

Light dawns on the reality of the lay of our slice of Earth -- that which we thought of as blessings has actually become overgrown.

We are chest-deep in a a mess of thick weed-vines wrapped around our hearts, binding us up in the tangles of overabundance.

There is pressure and suffocation and with every mounting item, the vines, they tighten and pull and smother out the gratitude that comes when our blessings seem few.

We don't want to be the Christmas grinches, but both John and I have been thinking about abandoning the tradition of gift giving.



I've longed to take a torch to the weeds and attempt a controlled burn; and the thought of carrying in new seed to the overflowing garden makes me gasp a bit for air.

We weigh the idea heavily -- to radically abandon giving each other gifts and instead give generously to those actually in need -- and we cannot come to a peace.

While we're ready to untangle from the mess of vines, we know that others are not -- namely two little boys.

As we pray and think and converse over the weeks spanning before Advent begins, I'm reminded that clearing the visible weed doesn't rid the garden of weed seed.

We can remove presents from Christmas and reduce the amount of vines, but what good is that if we grow seeds of bitterness in the hearts of our sons? What good have we accomplished if we've stopped others from giving to our family out of love?

After all, there is joy in giving because when we give we emulate the best Gift Giver of all -- He who sent us a King of King in the flesh of a swaddled baby boy meant to plow the soils of our hearts and burn the bad seeds only to replace them with the fruit of the Spirit.

And there lies the secret of giving. 

If we want to best emulate the Best Giver, we must give not just good gifts, but irreplaceable gifts.

And maybe those gifts don't come wrapped in big, shiny packages and fit comfortably under the tree.

Maybe those gifts can't be stuffed into stockings or bought at the store.

Maybe those gifts never go on sale.

Maybe those gifts are tiny seeds of time spent together, memories made, lessons learned in living out loud, life experienced together.

Maybe those are the seeds of gifts that begin to grow in the heart and choke out the weeds, untangling the heart without, too, setting it on red-hot fire.

Bigger Picture Moments: Feet firmly planted

I'm not ready to let November go just yet.

For me, that's like saying I'm not ready for snow to melt and summer to come; that's how much I love Christmas -- the season, the spirit, the celebration, the savior.

But mostly I'm not ready for the constant whirl of movement, for the focus that's normally thrust on the buying and shopping and the wrapping and the busyness that comes with the Christmas season in our culture.

So today my feet are firmly planted in slowness of counting blessings, the earnest gratitude of November. We've spent the past month as a family talking about having an attitude of thanksgiving rather than just celebrating thanksgiving as a day.

G lists what he's thankful for like water billowing over the edge of a fall; his gratitude seems always flowing for even the smallest blessings.

A boot knife {plastic! Don't worry.}

Our dog {even though he's now twice attempted to chew the eyes off of G's baby chameleon animal}

His mommy and daddy 

and snuggles


And, yes, my brother {he says after a direct question}

"But, mommy, you know what I'm most thankful for?"

"What?"

"God," he says matter of factly.

"Why?" I ask.

"Because He gives me stuff."

And, ohmygosh, yes.

That exactly, little man.

We are most thankful for God, the giver of good gifts, the giver of the best Gift -- the one of a baby King born on Christmas Day. 

I hold their little hands, both boys snuggling against my body as we wipe sleep from our morning eyes amid the soft glow of the tree.

We sink into the couch and my heart a little deeper into gratitude

and I decide right there

that we're taking thanksgiving with us as we move slowly, diligently, thoughtfully into December -- side stepping the fast roads of buying and wrapping and baking and goinggoinggoing -- to instead travel by starlight through the fields to meet face to face with the best Gift we've even been given.

We'll see the face of Baby Jesus by the time we arrive, the path of thanksgiving and gratitude having given themselves the truest of guides.

 

Each Thursday, we come together to share the harvest of intentional living by capturing a glimmer of the bigger picture through a simple moment. Won't you join us? Share a picture, words, creation or list; just come to the table with thanksgiving in your heart. 

Live.
Reflect on the blessings that were apparent to you this week.

Capture.
Harvest them!

Share.
Link up your moment HERE this week. Please be sure to link to your post, not your blog. Your post must link back here or have our button in your post or the link will be deleted.

Encourage.
Visit at least the person linked before you and encourage her in this journey we call life.

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Everyday Life: Belief

While John romped around in muddy fields chasing birds Saturday afternoon, the boys and I began ushering in the Christmas season by decking the halls.

G is totally and utterly convinced that decorating for the holidays includes cleaning the house and rearranging furniture. And that belief? I hope it never dies. The boy at four can move the couch across the living room with little to no help. Think of the serious muscle power I'm going to have around here two years from now.

I vacummed, G moved furniture and E stacked Duplos to the tune of classic carols.

We mused about Santa Claus and he said he was concerned about the bearded one getting it since we have no chimney.


G announced the rounds we'd make during Christmas, and he wanted to count the days until Christmas on the Advent calendar but I broke it to him that the popup book he was looking at started with a 12-day countdown.

And I stopped and cried, like I always do, when God is With Us drifted beautifully into my ears with its resounding, echoing hope and reality revealed against the chords of a welling piano.

Of course, G noticed, well, everything, so we brewed hot tea and poured chai and talked about why we celebrate the birth of baby Jesus and why that little swaddled babe born in a manager changes everything.

I see the threads of understanding beginning to weave together in his heart, overlapping and underlying and embracing all of what he's so far encountered; goosebumps sweep over my skin when I think about how his little mind is forming the foundations of belief his heart will hold most dear, the faith his soul will cling to, the love and grace and beauty that will wind itself up tightly in his chest.

And I hope it never unwinds.

"Hold onto what you believe in the light when the darkness has robbed you of all the light." {Mumford and Sons}