Merry Christmas

Emmanuel. God with us. 

  In the middle of our traditions. Under our trees. Behind our smiles and within our reach. Giving good gifts. The best gifts. The “from above” gifts that aren’t bought in stores. 

God with us.
  Unwrapping His great heart and giving us gifts of family and beauty and people who love us even in our imperfection.  

  When the tree is crooked and the flour is in our hair and the paper bits leave a trail through the house. 

God with us.   Loving us even when we’re distracted with christmas.      

    Christ in the midst of our mess and making it the most wonderful.

 Merry Christmas from our family to yours!

Yes.

 
He’s my “Yes” child.

Not that the Pickle was a “no” child. She was a faith child. An “okay God… You’re nuts, but whatever you say” child.

His arrival was not that clear. Not that expected.

He was that quiet whisper on a cold winter night. God asked, “Will you trust me?” And all we could answer was “Yes.”

And now he is our yes.

He’s having trouble sleeping, should I just keep him with me?

Yes.

He doesn’t like solid food. Do you think he’ll like a nibble of birthday cake?

Yes.

He seems to be wide awake… Should we let him stay up longer until he’s tired?

Yes.

He wakes me up three times a night. Should I keep going in to him?

Yes.

Yes. Yes. Yes.

Yes, I will cuddle him and squeeze him and kiss his face.

Yes, I will help him find comfort when he is distraught (even if ‘comfort’ is a paci)

Yes, I will pick him up when he crawls to me and climbs up my leg and smiles.

Yes, I will hold him while I get dinner ready, if for no other reason than to save my own sanity from his crying.

Yes. 

And in the middle of the night when I’m pushed past my breaking point or late in the day when I can’t move a muscle and I have kids climbing all over me…

Even then I find myself gazing at him – so perfect and beautiful – and I say yes. 

Yes. Yes. Yes, Baby Boy.

Sometimes I Regret Having Children

Shared my heart on the Knoxville Moms Blog today.

It’s been a rough year. So much pain and suffering in the world, so much darkness, so much sadness. And sometimes I just can’t even turn on the news.

And then I look at my children. And the knowledge that they will grow up in this world, quite possibly an even darker version of this world than even we have known, is too much to bear. BUT…

But I put my hope in Christ. And I know this world was never meant to be our home and there is no peace and no light apart from Him. And I look at these precious little ones who I would give my life for…

and I am so thankful that He already has.

Click to read.

Different

  

There was a time once… When going to the beach meant something different. It meant getting away. Catching up. Long walks. Deep thoughts. Early runs. Brilliant mornings. Starlit nights. For me it was a time to clear my head and pour out my thoughts on salty damp paper. But now? Now it’s something I barely recognize. 

 Now it’s three people in one bed. Millions of wakings. Sand… Everywhere. Needing shade. Needing snacks. Needing sunscreen. Needing a nap. Needing entertained. And never quite getting enough of anything. It’s tantrums. And laughter. And catch me one more time. Don’t let me go under water. Watch me jump. Watch me run. Watch me throw. Now it’s who has the baby? How much can you carry? What’s for dinner? And breakfast and lunch and… What time is it anyways? 

  I confess there are times I miss the old beach days. The days of peace and reflection. When I gazed out past the crashing waves of childhood and sank deep in that elusive horizon. But now each time my eyes wander out there I hear a squeal and am forced to look back. Back to the crest. Back to the turbulent and adventurous and unpredictable and wonderful crashing of these little tiny waves that seem so big. And my feet keep slipping out from under me until they’re buried in this new day. 

  This new beach experience. The one I will miss in ten. Twenty. Thirty years. When I sit and stare out at the horizon and wish I could see the frolicking little waves once again. It’s different now. Not better. Not worse. Not easier. But not harder either. Just… Different. And these little waves are stripping away my desperation for what the beach should be and making room in my heart for what it is. 

  Ever-changing. Ever-new. Ever full of memory-making and dream-catching. And I weep sadness over my lost horizon but weep joy over my found shore and can’t believe my heart could stretch so big. So wide. To grasp the uncontainable joy of my #pirateprincess and to get lost in the curiosity of my #littlebuddE with eyes like the ocean. It’s wonderfully different and exhausting and I just don’t know if I’m doing it right but I’m doing it. This new beach. This new life. 

   
 

How Going Back to Work Saved My Sanity

I had so much fun sharing this reality last week!

Going back to my part-time job after having Baby E was daunting, to say the least.  I wasn’t sure what to expect or how it would work.  I wasn’t sure if I would love it or hate it.  I wasn’t sure if it made sense financially.  I just had no idea!  It’s one of those things that you don’t know (about your kids, your time, or yourself) until you step out and do it.

But like most tough decisions in my life, this one was no less amazing and eye-opening!  There is oh so much to learn about yourself if you just take the time to step into the unknown and try it.  Change is where we grow.  Taking risks is where we become… more colorful.  More aware.  It’s where we LIVE!

When we keep doing the same thing over and over, that’s when life grows stagnant and unfulfilling.  Don’t get me wrong… having a baby was a HUGE change!  I lost myself for a while there in those first few months of finding a new normal.  But going back to work helped me find myself again…

Even if it was just for a few hours a week!

What Really Matters

While my life with two has not made it onto these pages as much as I had hoped they would, I have been privileged to share a few fleeting thoughts now and then on the Knoxville Mom’s Blog!  This post was from New Year’s Day.

I’ll be honest, Christmas was a bomb this year.  As was New Year’s and Valentine’s Day.  It’s as if my brain is only wired enough to get through daily life.  The special moments and Pinterest-worthy life has escaped me for this season and I constantly have to keep reminding myself that it doesn’t matter.

My little girl doesn’t remember that Baby Brother screamed all through Christmas Eve and we almost didn’t get to watch her open her presents.  She doesn’t even care that I failed to do a New Year’s countdown with her (or that Daddy and I were both in bed well before midnight).  And even though I completely forgot to hang up decorations, set the table, and make cherry turnovers for Valentine’s Day… my favorite tradition.  Instead I just ran upstairs while she was playing a game and grabbed a Hello Kitty gift bag to throw her My Little Pony in with a box of heart-shaped chocolates.  It doesn’t matter.  There will be time for all of that another day.  In another season.

But for now, I’m trying to breathe and remember that this is all that really matters.

And Then There Were Two

It’s been a wild ride these last few months.  Wild and wonderful.  But have I ever mentioned just how much I miss writing?  How I hate when an idea comes into my head and because of life I just can’t ever get it down ‘on paper’ and then it’s gone?  It happens all the time.

If I could write everything that I wanted.  If I had the time and the peace.  There would be a thousand posts a week.  And my life would be divulged to the world because there is just so. much. to share.

But I don’t.  And I can’t.  And there are babies and dishes and laundry and work and basic needs that must be met first.  And by the end of the day, writing gets lost.  Sadly.

But maybe someday.  Maybe someday I’ll be able to do it again.  Bare my soul.  Fill these pages.  Because to write is to breathe.  And sometimes I feel as though I’m suffocating.

Thanks to the Knoxville Mom’s Blog I have a deadline once or twice a month and I get my wiggles out.  (and of course forget to share them here)  So in the name of writing and breathing and living, here is our welcome baby post from Christmas.  Back when the fog of newness was finally beginning to clear!

25 Days of Christmas: Day 9

The Plan:

Last year was the first year I ever did the 25 Days of Christmas gifts with my Pickle.  One of my favorite days was putting together our Christmas cards.  Not because it was super fun or anything, but because it forced me to get my Christmas cards ready, addressed, stamped and mailed super early (read: on time).  Something else I loved about it was the idea I got to write letters and make special cards for a few special people in our lives.

Last year had there had been several losses among our family and friends. Most of them older.  My Grandpa passed away leaving his wife alone.  My other Grandma was spending her ninth Christmas in a nursing home while her Beloved was moving into an Assisted Living Facility a couple miles away.  And a woman in my parent’s church had recently lost her husband to his battle with cancer.

We love Christmas so much and do a lot for others during this season, but all too often we forget about those who have to bear the weight of loss and grieving.  For many the holidays bring up reminders of Christmas memories, the pain of lost loved ones, and the loneliness that comes from an empty house.  So to send a little special Christmas cheer we will make special Christmas cards for a few people.  Letting them know we are thinking of them and acknowledging their loneliness this time of year.  But also sending some Christmas cheer in the form of  a loving letter, a special Christmas drawing by our little elf, and our family Christmas card.  It’s not much, but we pray that it will bring a smile and some Christmas joy to an otherwise bittersweet time of year.

The Reality:

Finally I did something right!  Tonight when the Pickle noticed the pile of presents and started tearing into number 18, I gently took it out of her deathgrip and handed her the correct number.  I wasn’t even sure what it was until she opened a small envelope with stickers in it.  Then I remembered that we were to color pictures and write letters to some of our favorite elderly people.

So we did.

P got to show off her recently acquired face-drawing technique.  I clawed off a few more mouse house stickers.  We giggled.  We got creative.  We colored.  And hopefully when we mail them this week, there will be several more smiles at my little girl’s beautiful artwork.

25 Days of Christmas: Day 8

The Plan:

When the Pickle was pretty small, her Aunt purchased a book from her cousin’s Scholastic book order for her.  She thought it was cute.  Had a cat on it and came with a CD that read the story.  It was quite young for her at the time, but we listened to it anyways and seemed to like it well enough.  Only as she got older has she fallen completely in love with Pete the Cat!  Which is why last Christmas I told my parents about all the cute Pete the Cat stuff out there.  And sure enough, on Christmas Eve Day a box came in the mail for us with a hardback copy of “Pete the Cat Saves Christmas.”  Complete with the free song online.  She loved that book.

So today, we will open Pete the Cat Saves Christmas.  We will read it half a dozen times, watch the video even more, and quite possibly make it our bedtime book for the next year.

The Reality:

Or we won’t open it at all.

She opened Pete the Cat two nights ago.  We didn’t open anything today.

25 Days of Christmas: Day 7

The Plan:

Today we will be in the mountains at our annual family reunion.  With this in mind, I’ve prepared a few smaller gifts for her to open that won’t require much space in her bag.  Today we will open all the stuff we need to make a fun Christmas craft with her cousins!  We did this last year and it was really fun to keep the kids occupied and do something Christmasy with our extended family.

The Reality:

Are you kidding me?  A Christmas craft to do with her cousins?  I was lucky I stumbled up on some cute Mouse House stickers in the dollar bin at JoAnn’s to take up there.  You know… to give them something different to look at for five minutes.  Of course, those were the kind of stickers that are cheap and don’t come off the paper well without ripping.  So in reality, my sisinlaw and I spent twenty minutes sitting there clawing at these awful stickers while our kids just got bored and walked away.

Worse yet, they weren’t actually “opened”… I just threw them on the table.

And if that’s not bad enough, I forgot to pack a book for bedtime (in additional to our Christmas devotional which I DID remember- score mom!).  So I had her open the package for day 8 on the night of day 6 so we could have a story to read the two nights we were up there.  Which means… tomorrow will never happen.