Snow ~ and STILLNESS.

 

 

 

 

 

I am patiently waiting for my littlest guy to fall peacefully asleep...

as the afternoon is calling, with all of its blessed demands.

I am taking the little weiner dog out to do bathroom duties,

my little circle dog,

opening the flimsy screen door to the glory of the backyard.

Painted in white, glorious washing.

And I am struck with the mundane beauty of the everyday.

 

There really is nothing left untouched, is there?

Untouched by majesty?

It's abounding everywhere.

 

And it's in the grasping of this,

that time can stand-right-still.

In learning to acknowledge and appreciate, to give thanks...

life somehow stills and slows.

 

There is something about fresh snowfall that stills me.

As if God is calling:  PEACE.

I stopped all day yesterday to embrace the moments

of these little people running at my feet.

Often, I rush.

I rush through school, rush to exercise, rush to make dinner.

Rush to bathe the babies.

Rush to do their laundry, get it folded...

my unfocused eyes looking forward and missing all-the-now.

The snow sings it loud:  there is no rush in nature.

There is order, and there are seasons.

But rushing is futile.

 

The snow calls:  STILLNESS.

Life frozen, and washed white.

 

I wrapped in the thought like a quilt.

Stillness.

 

"Be STILL and know that I am God."

 

In the rushing of life,

the-get-it-all-done,

it is hard to know that God is God.

It is maybe easier to fall into the trap that we are god?

That somehow by rushing fast and accomplishing much,

we foolishly think we have it all under control.

We take hold of something that really belonged to God all along.

The outcomes.

The everything.

All ~ God's.

And when we rush we merely are forgetting.

We are not changing anything.

We are merely forgetting,

forgetting that the minutes slip right between the fingers,

and that it is simply not worth the-plow-ahead.

It's not worth rushing.

Time is not traded in.

Time is lost.

 

Be STILL.

And time slows.

The soul wakes.

 

I watched the full cheeks of my one year old, rosy pink.

Those cheeks puffed out and eyes squinting saying, "ME!"

When I asked who-would-like-more-milk?

I scooped him up and tickled him silly, and just held the moments

like golden treasures that will one day be-no-more.

I rubbed the back of my 7 year old as he did his reading,

I listened intently to his entire narration of the cartoon that he watched:

a mystery of the stolen jewels...

Told scene by scene with passion spilling from sky-blue eyes.

I consciously listened to him instead of listening-while-doing.

To tell him:  I will always be here, to listen.

I am setting the stage for our future relationship.

I wrapped him in his robe after his shower,

realizing that very soon there will be a wall between us

as mother and son ~ the wall of a boy becoming a man.

When a mother no longer enters post-shower,

to wrap her baby in a bathrobe.

I tucked in a 4 year old who makes-my-soul-laugh-silly.

Looked at his smile and the way he jumps and kicks around this place...

donkey kicks, we call him.

I tucked in all-his-silly with a smile as he smiled back,

wrapped beneath Thomas the Train blankets and surrounded

by plush animals.

I marveled all day in the belly-rolls of laughter that erupt from him.

Praising God that these, these are my gifts.

 

 

I plunged hands deep into soapy water, to barely clean a house that

is full-up with living.

A house that is no longer possible to scour clean:

a little clean, and a little living comes...and does away with the clean.

I bounded down the steps to the deep lair,

where I rinse diapers.

And marveled at how many dirty ones can be made in a day by one child.

I stepped around toys forgotten.

Wondered how the kitchen counter attracts clutter like a magnet?

And counted it all: JOY.

 

Stillness does something to the nature of the soul.

A stilled soul beats in rhythm with

a marvelous God....

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 



ART. therapy.

ART:  therapy.

 

 

 

Yes, that right there is my coffee cup.  Treasured.

Surrounded by chalk-dust.

(..the kind-that-doesn't-wash-out-easily)

And instead of it being a full-up mug of hot java,

It was today, our INSPIRATION.

 

The boys laughed at me,

because I refused to put marshmallows in my drawing.

I said that my drawing was one of my favorite drinks:  coffee.

And you just can't toss marshies into coffee.

Of course, their imaginations were full of sugary treats,

fluffy marshmallows, and chocolately cocoa.

They drew with delighted abandon.

 

I will admit,

I ....LOVE....art.

LOVE.

However, since I've had children?

I'm ashamed to admit, I just feel overwhelmed getting out the art supplies

with them.  Their little excited grabby hands and inability to keep

their sleeves in the right places...the paint brushes flinging everywhere...

the stains!  Oh, the stains.

Oh...the cleanup....

It drives my mother heart a little bit into a pandemic.

 

And that's EXACTLY why I need art in our days.

 

I stumbled upon a great book,

A Simple Start in Chalk Pastels.

(available over here, at Hodgepodge)

And as I paged through this neat little E-book,

and their neat little website full of INSPIRATION,

I decided:  art is not optional.

Art is necessary for our souls.

 

I felt it, as we gathered up our materials--felt the soul sing.

We shared my tiny college-box of soft chalk pastels.

(who woulda thought--back when I bought these...that all these little hands

I had brought into the world would be holding them one day with glee?)

I looked up at Quinn,

who was brimming ear to ear, his tongue hanging out in his classic think-mode,

pastels smudged across his face.

He looked like a chimney sweep straight outta Mary Poppins.

And then Gabe, who is meticulous and hates to get his hands dirty--

he was putting finishing touches on his perfect drink of choice on a cold day:

a peppermint hot cocoa.

Perfect.

 

Our little souls were as warm as our mugs.

Then came the REAL therapy:  the cleanup.

Would you know, that I left an old rag at the bathroom sink

for my guys to clean up their messy hands with...

and they...forgot?

They used my brand new towel, instead?

The light green one??

That my little chimney sweep

wiped himself clean as a whistle?

A light green towel smudged with ...stains....

Therapy.

Therapy for a momma's heart, to embrace mess

and exchange perfection

for laughter and joy and memories.

And we all know--

Ecover stain stick got that stain right out.

Quinn's sweatshirt though...that thing will never be the same!

 

And to think.

I am already looking forward to next week's art gathering,

together at our dining room table.

I think we are going to draw mountains.

There's a verse I am working on:

 

"I tell you the truth.  If you have faith and do not doubt,

not only can you do what was done to the fig tree,

but also you can say to this mountain, 'Go, throw yourself

into the sea,' and it will be done."

~Jesus.

 

Art therapy.  For the soul.

 

Gabe was so inspired, that he spent his entire quiet time

working on a piece in colored pencil.

He told me that he drew it in honor of the book we just finished

during our evening read-aloud time:  Mountain Born.

A book describing the life of a shepherd,

to help us understand what the Bible means when it describes

Jesus as the "Good Shepherd."

Art is highly infectious!

Planted in the soul by the Great Artist Himself.

 

 

The Logic of English ~ THE WHY.

How the Logic of English has changed our homeschool.

 

7 year old playing a phonogram game of Dragon (similar to "OLD MAID.")

Guess who has the Dragon??

 

4 year old working on his cursive J (LOE handwriting program)


 

We do life and learning just a little bit different than most folks.

If it's not wicked silly,

and crazy fun...

it just doesn't find a permanent home in our homeschool.

I like to use laughter as the vehicle of learning.

 

Mainly, because I love to laugh myself.

And I REALLY am addicted to hearing the belly-giggles

of my little guys.

And serious is fine,

but passion is not fueled by constant furrowed brows.

We get silly, we get hands-on,

and we get serious lasting learning done.

 

Self-education is the only possible education;

 the rest is mere veneer laid on the surface of a child's nature.

~Charlotte Mason.

 

It wasn't always this way around here!

I bought into the lie that certain subjects just have to be TACKLED.

And wrestled to the ground.

Like English and spelling.

Then I realized that our English and spelling

WERE NOT STICKING

in my son's head.

And I attended a local homeschool conference where I sat

in on a lecture that changed our homeschool life.

Fun and laughter and passion in spelling and English? INDEED!

 

After attending the lecture, I knew it would fit us well.

It took me awhile to come to grips with setting aside our

already purchased-and-paid-for-drill-and-kill-failure-english/spelling-style.

But one day, I had had quite enough of the wrestling and sad,

and I made the best decision ever.

Meet our English and spelling of choice:

 

THE LOGIC OF ENGLISH!

Did you know that teaching your child,

"when 2 vowels go a-walkin' the first one does the talking"

is really misleading?

Well, blah.  I taught that to my very logical-thinking kid

and then wondered why I would watch him spell things all wrong.

Spell things all wrong:  with the very tools I had taught him.

I got exhausted saying, "You're right to think that way...

but this word is an exception to the rules..."

Or..."This word is a SIGHT word...we memorize it b/c it breaks all the rules..."

I would just get this sad, blank stare back at me...and I started to wonder myself...

just what kind of CRAZY mixed up language IS English, anyway?

And how on earth did I ever learn it??

 

I almost jumped up and down when I sat through the Logic of English

presentation.  It totally grabbed my logical-mind and

MADE SENSE.

I went straight to the vendor hall and bought Denise Eide's book:

Uncovering the Logic of English.

This little, well-thought out book explained everything to me.

There ARE rules that apply to English.

But when we teach our children "funny phonics" like

"the E at the end of a word makes the vowel say its name,"

we are creating the myth that these rules apply on a consistent basis.

And when those funny rules DON'T apply--

it creates a great deal of discouragement.

The Logic of English has a set of consistent, reliable rules.

 

Children memorize:

30 spelling rules

and 74 phonograms (these 74 include A-Z)

That's it.

104 tools, total.

All the tools needed to decode 98% of the English language.

A language that boasts between one and two MILLION words in its lexicon.

A well-trained mind has up to 200,000 words in its memory bank.

THAT is a lot of memorizing without tools.

 

The BEST part??

These 104 "tools" are delivered via my favorite vehicle:  laughter.

We play games and learn our way right into the

very MEAT of the English language!

I bought this curriculum for my seven year old,

but the most amazing thing is: 

I have watched my 4 year old memorize spelling rules,

and memorize every-single-phonogram-I've-introduced-thus-far.

Which is somewhere around 50.

The other day he did our spelling list right alongside,

and my jaw dropped as he spelled "clock."

Now--tell me--what 4 year old knows that clock is clock and not klok?

The kid who learned,

"ck is used ONLY after a single vowel that says its short sound."

Then he spelled "human."

Because he learned that A,E,O, and U "usually say their names at the END

of a syllable."

Huh.

4-year-old-man also knows ALL the sounds that A-Z make.

(Did you know that A says three sounds??  I didn't either, until LOE!)

 

And the thing is--my 4 year old is NOT required to sit in on our English or spelling lessons.

He does it for the pure JOY of it, it is THAT fun!

I will be posting more about our journey with the Logic of English.

But for now--if you are curious,

it all starts with Denise Eide's book:

Uncovering the Logic of English.

I have a copy on my shelf--it is priceless.

I only purchase books that I cannot live without.

This is one:  I cannot live without as a homeschool mother.

The book changed my heart and revolutionized our homeschool

spelling-wrestling-matches.

I will post more on what our days are like with LOE,

in case it is helpful to any other families out there

looking to bring the logic and JOY

back into English and spelling!

 

the book: 

Uncovering the Logic of English

 

the curriculum:

http://www.logicofenglish.com/

 

 

the presentation:

 

***I am not affiliated in ANY way with The Logic of English.  I did NOT receieve any

free curriculum or incentives to write this review.  I do NOT know the author.  I purchased

all of our Logic of English material with my own money.

Yes, it is that good.*** 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 



A life lived well.

What we are called to?

 

This weekend, on Saturday,

my Great-Aunt Marion passed from this earth.

She was 99 years old.

I remember when my grandmother passed, at the age of 92,

many well-intentioned folks made mention that 92 years was

"at least a long, full life."

The thing is,

it's just never long enough.

92 years is not long enough when you have to say goodbye to a

grandmother whose soft lips you will never feel give you a kiss again.

It's not long enough when you find yourself having to really focus

and remember the sound of your grandmother's laugh.

It's just never, never long enough.

It's always too soon to say goodbye to a loved one.

Always.

There are always things you wish you'd have said,

There are still things you wish you could have learned from them.

Stories you wished you'd have asked them to tell.

Crochet hooks that you long for them to show you to hold.

You know?

Death comes too soon.

God knows.

He knows that for us death is a thief,

coming at an hour unknown and always unwanted.
Jesus experienced the death of the-one-he-loved, Lazarus.
Seeing the grief of Lazarus' family and friends,
He wept.
The God-Man who had come from heaven and was here with us,
on this broken-twisted-grieving-planet:
Immanuel--He wept.
He knew his friend Lazarus was in heaven.
Still, He wept.
He knew that He would raise Lazarus within minutes.
To God's great glory, to prove the Truth of Himself.
Still, He wept.
He wept,
and then He up and raised Lazarus.
A beautiful reminder that there is grief in the mourning of this moment,
but joy in the temporal state of death's earthly goodbye.
Jesus later laid down His life, nailed to a cross.
And ripped the sting right out of death.

In our honor.

Death is now but a waiting.

Sometimes a long waiting.

But I'll take waiting.
I'll take waiting to hear her throw-back-her-head-and-laugh again,
over a forever goodbye grave.

Hallelujah?

These are not just words I hold to, for comfort.
I am a realist.
I believe that the evidence for Jesus
is astounding.
And if you always have thought Jesus a fairytale,
a "nice story" that the weak hold to,
to explain the profound and the sad ~
I assure you that Christ followers of history are not weak,
but crazy-life-giving-fanatics who died for what they saw.
If you want to weigh the evidence for yourself,
Here's a link to one of my all-time fav podcasts/blogs,
weighing the evidence for this
grave-defeating Jesus.

The Please Convince Me podcast is by a former athiest: 
Jim Wallace.
He thought Christians to be simple minded goofs,
until one day he studied the evidence for Jesus.
And turned his life right inside out.
He is a cold case homicide detective who found the truth of Jesus
to be overhwhelmingly accurate, able to stand trial,
and he started this ministry to
point others toward the truth of Jesus.
He accepts zero donations.
It's all heart, and his own personal donated time.
His ministry is funded entirely by himself and a few friends
who believe in His mission.
He approachs Christ as a cold-case detective, zero fluff.
I love it.
http://pleaseconvinceme.com/

 

When I read Great-Aunt Marion's obituary, I sobbed like a child.

Huge, water droplets spilling from my face onto the keyboard,

onto my chin.

Onto my sweatshirt.

I was transported to my own death.

To the overwhelming place of overviewing one's own life.

Every minute and hour spent,

and what would be said of the sum total.

Great Aunt Marion married when she was 35.

She had one son, and it filled her with joy.

She poured her life into her family.

Her obituary says that she NEVER raised her voice.

Imagine.

If someone read that in my eulogy, I'm pretty sure that Quinn

would stand straight up in his pew and raise his hand to correct the typo.

 

I remember my Great Aunt with fondness.

She was always smiling.  Always.

A truly gentle, loving soul.

Smiling, and laughing.

I am thinking about my week,

about my month.

How it has all been covered in laughter.

In smiling.

And I wonder if that laughter runs-in-my-ancestoral-veins?

Laughter covers our homeschool.

Literally, if it does not make us laugh --

we just find a way to learn, that WILL.

We play and laugh our way right through our days.

(and yes, the laughter fades at times, and we fatigue,

but in an overarching way, laughter and joy mark our days

and carry us right through the hard places, and heal us.)

 

I was at a dinner gathering not long ago,

and the moms were gathered up, chatting.

Suddenly a dear mom just opened her soul and shared:

"I just have been loving time with my kids this week.

I just love being with them.

I love the time that we've spent and I'm thankful."

And I was touched, deep.

Because I feel that, too.

The thankfulness of gathering my kids around me

and doing life with them.

Touched also at how quickly I forget this.

Just that day I had YELLED (in my yelling voice?)

at my husband for not giving me UN-interrupted

workout time without my kids.

The baby was crying, which I could hear during my workout,

and I was distracted and unfocused and angry that

in-all-the-world-can-i-not-just-get-in-time-for-my-blasted-health?

Out of breath, in-a-crank,

I came barrelling up the stairs and just unleashed a nasty sentence

upon my resting husband.
My hard-working, resting husband.

Sigh.

I get tired, I get cranky,

and I forget:  what it IS that I am called to?

 

Motherhood is the grandest journey of turning one's soul inside out.

Of pouring out.

How quickly I forget the joy of it.

Forget to laugh.

I get mySELF right up in front and am blinded by MEaness.

And then I am asking forgiveness,

and tucking it around healing laughter.

Hoping and praying that the laughter

outweighs all my shortcomings.

Smothers my lack of mother-nice.

Thankful that God's mercies are new every morning MINUTE.

 

I am blessed by those who have gone before me,

who have done this "life" thing well.

My Great-Aunt Marion's life-story is tucked securely

in the back of my Bible.
Her picture there, smiling still.
The words "her husband won the prize for best wife,"
reverberating in my soul.

A reminder of what I aspire to.

A reminder not to chasten the little laugh lines that creep

up in the laughter places upon my face.

But to welcome them as time-worn marks of

a life lived smiling, in laughter.
A reminder that I am not called to "perfection,"
but to aspire after holiness.
That maybe God gave us laughter,
knowing we would need a glorious blanket
to cover our shortcomings with.

 

A reminder that this Bible book holds my map.
Pour in more of you, Jesus?
And empty me right out.

In honor of a great lady, Great Aunt Marion.
I invite you to read her obituary, it will warm you on this chilly January morn!
Her spirit will be missed here.

http://www.legacy.com/obituaries/fdlreporter/obituary.aspx?n=marion-muellenbach&pid=162358745&fhid=14031#fbLoggedOut

In honor of Nellie and baby cubby.

 

A little break from the usual?

My sister sweet is halfway through her first pregnancy,

and I am over an hour from her.

I deeply desire to sit down to nice cups of decaf coffee and chat baby.

But until that happens...
I brewed myself a cup, and am enjoying the silence of a sleeping house.
Watching the clock tick wee late hours...
Joyfully typing as if we were chatting.

This list is in her honor.

 

 

 

 

 

The Go-To Gotta-have-it List for New Mommies.

 

 

~Great Reads~

 

Ina May's Guide to Childbirth, and Spiritual Midwifery by Ina May Gaskin

Ina May is nationally known as an expert on all-things-birth, being a highly respected, certified

midwife.  She is not a professed Christ-follower, but she treats birth as the mysterious

miracle that modern medicine in missing.  Her books are full of wisdom and strength, telling

the bare bones of what birth is really like.

 

Baby Catcher by Peggy Vincent

I could not get enough of this book--hard to put down!  Wonderful birth stories told

through the eyes of a midwife.

 

Natural Childbirth the Bradley Way by McCutcheon

A great book for pain techniques and learning labor stages, etc.

Not necessarily just for natural childbirth.

 

MOVIE:  The Business of Being Born, starring Ricki Lake and Abby Epstein

Birth is a business.  Hospitals need to turn a profit.  Learn about the

cycle of pitocin, pain, and c-sections that plague American hospitals.

http://www.thebusinessofbeingborn.com/

 

The Vaccine Book by Sears

Babies are given dozens of immunizations in their first year of life.

Learn what each shot is for, if it is necessary or simply convenient, and what

the possible side effects to your child could be.

Our government has a fund set up for children harmed by vaccines.

That should alarm you.

Especially since babies are vaccinated in their first moments of life!

 

Vaccinated by Offit

Read both sides of the vaccine argument!

This book is pro-vaccine.

Very informative, telling how immunizations were invented.

Includes information on what years to FEAR flu viruses, and what years

to skip the flu vaccine.

Includes information on the use of fetal cells in vaccines.

 

The No Cry Sleep Solution by Pantley

and

Healthy Sleep Habits, Happy Child by Weissbluth

Babies sometimes don't like to sleep?

Great books on sleep techniques, encouragement for overtired parents,

research on how naps develop and change throughout childhood,

colic advice, and sleep charts to determine sleep quantity needs per age group

and how sleep affects learning/development.

Note:

I do not agree with all Weissbluth says about techniques for "crying it out,"

although he does offer several alternative options with no-cry solutions.

His book is very choppy reading, not very organized--but the meat

and research it contains is invaluable.

*****************************************************
 

~ Breastfeeding ~

 

1.  My Brestfriend nursing pillow
http://www.mybrestfriend.com/

superior to the Boppy because it offers back support.
It also buckles on, so you can use it while standing.  Carefully!

2.  Nursing cover
 

3.  Nursing tank top

these are nice b/c they allow you to breastfeed in public places
without exposing postpartum tummy/back

4.  Lily padz
http://www.lilypadz.com/
Great for under t-shirts, as conventional breastpads are bulky
and make you look like you stuff your bra, lol!
Very simple to clean.

5.  Medela breastpump
http://www.medelabreastfeedingus.com/products/145/swing-breastpump
Often insurance policies will reimburse you for part
of your breastpump cost.
The Medela "swing" is my fav!  Great for occasional pumping,
and simulates the natural rhythm of feeding.
Worth every penny!
(that said, milk storage bags are great, too).

6.  Breast hot/cold packs
http://www.amazon.com/Gerber-Breast-Therapy-Relief-Reusable/dp/B005FE5SDK/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1357272867&sr=8-2&keywords=gerber+breast+relief+pads
When your milk first comes in, or when you are weaning--
and even if you have plugged ducts or other pains,
these are so, so nice!

********************************************************

~ Baby Care ~

These are just a few items I could not live without!

1.  Booty Balm by Lusa Organics
http://www.lusaorganics.com/natural-handmade-organic-baby-skin-care-booty-balm-p/booty-option1.htm
The smell of this reminds me of babyhood.  I always
have it onhand.  GREAT for preventing diaper rash:
slather it on baby's bum every evening before bed.
Safe for cloth diapers.

2.  Triple Paste
Cures bad cases of diaper rash EVERY time!
I keep this and Booty Balm in the changing table at all times.
(Do not use with cloth diapers without a liner.)

3.  Baby soaps:
Dr. Bronner's Organic Castille soap baby mild, unscented
(be careful not to get this into baby's eyes.  We use it at our house,
as an entire family--but the CA baby soap is more gentle on eyes if you
are worried at all about avoiding baby's eye area)
or
California Baby Super Sensitive baby wash and lotion
Beware of traditional baby soaps, as many contain "fragrance" or sulfates,
and other skin irritants that newborn skin
(or any skin for that matter!) cannot handle.
Skin is the body's largest organ, and it absorbs what
you put on it.

Best shop to get "crunchy" baby products at low prices:
Vitacost.com
GET $10 OFF YOUR PURCHASE USING THIS LINK:
(it also will give me $10 off a future purchase, so thank you!)
https://www.vitacostrewards.com/Rqp4nsz


4.  Ecover Stain Remover
a natural, eco-friendly stain stick that is AMAZING!
I have tried it on just about everything...
including ground in, old stains.
I am a fanatic!
(I just ordered a --CASE!--)
you can get this on vitacost for a great price.

Best resources:
Baby and cloth diaper supplies/blog:  www.nickisdiapers.com
Breastfeeding support:  La Leche League http://www.llli.org/


~ Enjoy! ~
 

 

 

 

 

 



May you find a Light.

 

 

My world is covered in snow.

It is glorious.

The snow makes the dead decay of winter

look clean again.

Pure.

 

Had a little extra time today,

to sit at the feet of Jesus.

I got up from my place there,

grabbed the dog from off the bed.

And felt a prompting for me to sit right back down.

That He had more for me.

And did He ever.

My soul, full up.

My soul feels like the whitewash outside my window.

A blizzard of new,

pure joy.

 

Friend, I wish I could take your hand,

and touch it to this place.

Where the soul finds peace.

Where fear is gone.

Nothing but hope abounds.

 

The talk today is of the Mayan calendar,

and prediction of the world's end.

The chatter, the talk, the superstition...

It reminds.

That we all have this gaping hole

in our soul.

That longs to be filled.

We wonder about the end of the world,

We wonder about the start of the world.

It is too big for us to grasp.

We push heads hard into entertaining our

minds to death.

Stare at screens.

The empty in our soul

cries out for us to hear.

 

May you find the Light.

 

May you drink,

even just a sip,

from the well that Jesus is.

Living Water.

 

This Christmas,

may you find the Light

to guide you home...

 

"I will extol the Lord at all times;

his praise will always be on my lips.

My soul will boast in the Lord;

let the afflicted hear and rejoice.

Glorify the Lord with me;

let us exalt his name together."

~from Psalm 34~

 



The Jump from Inertia.

 

How to point precious children toward Love, God of the Universe?

Without letting blundering, stupid self trip them all up along the way?

How to just keep head lowered, pointing them to The Way?

Apologizing all along the path for mistakes, for harshly spoken words,

for undeserved reprimands...for tired.

For a brain that doesn't always do well with all the noise.
I actually calculated it one day:  my noise limit.
My brain can handle two things at once, music and a chattering child,
head-noise of reading a recipe while gently disciplining the running of feet,
but throw in a third?
And that third hits my overwhelmed button.

How to lasso up the pharisee inside of me, who always wants cut-and-dry,

black and white rules, and to herald flaws?

In my search for a pure Christmas,

I am face to face with my own heart, which can be so ugly.

So in need of washing.

 

  And even in all my mess,

that baby born in a manger, DIED for me.

I imagine the incredible sacrifice of forgiveness.

Him laying down His very life,

and washing all of my mess away.
And not just my mess,
but the mess of billions just like me.
How to hold all of that mess, but supernatural?

I sit right there, at His feet, pure white.

How undeserved!

Yes, that's the entire reason He came to this wretched, broken earth.

And so I venture to remove stumbling blocks from their little paths,

To not place anything there that glitters temporal, distracts.
To not point them toward idols that woo, stuff that pleasures for a mere breath.
How to find balance of this in a world where stuff takes over?
How to teach LESS, when my basement is clogged?
When I just placed my sixth amazon order?
When my eyes are always roaming.

I desire to teach it,
to learn it myself.

Stuff never satisfies.
Never.
And to herald the ancient birthing of miracles, with eyes focused on stuff?
Is missing fulfillment.
Is missing out on the gift that IS fulfilling,
soul-filling-fulfillment-eternal!
I know the pureness of joy of this filling!
I would trade everything I own just-for-His-soul-filling.
And yet how do I let myself get distracted so easily?
In the words of my favorite author and blogger, Voskamp,
I am plagued,yes, by perpetual soul-amnesia.

I know how easy it is for eyes to fall, for time to rush forth unstoppable,
for the overwhelm to set in.
How easily amnesia can creep into a soul.
It is a deliberate eye-fixation on that baby wrapped in a manger,
that cures.

 

It seems like, often, the prayers that God answers profoundly for me,

are not the prayers that I word-just-right.

The prayers that He jumps on top of are the ones that I utter in spirit.

Just a few thoughts.

Barely penned.

Just heart.

These weeks, my utterance was my lack-of-brain-power to sit down,

to plan it all out.  This pure Christmas I am seeking --

it is a lot of work and thought to chart a new course and jump from inertia.

Would He just take over, make it clear?

Point the way?

 

And within a few days, the pointing begins.
My eyes brimming wide with wonder that the God of the Universe,
He hears and He nudges and
the ideas and clarity that have fallen into my tired, overwhelmed lap?
Could not possibly have been my brainchild.
No ~ in my weakness, He always shines bright.

Yes, the conversations between husband and wife here have been divine.
And I can feel my heart swell with Holy Spirit joy,
As each piece tumbles into place.
While I pray.
And wait.

We are late ~ it is the second week of December...
The plans barely unfurled.
I fret.
Others are well on their way of celebrating advents,
And still my printer is whirring and my heart filling.
And I see it there ~ this little 3x5 card at my computer,
the Psalm that I am penning permanent to memory.
Within the lines of my weekly piece,
"...do not FRET - it leads only to evil."
{ Psalm 37: 8 }

And I picture the "perfect birth" that Mary may have visioned,
And how last minute, she is riding a donkey...
Last minute, she is still on her journey.
She doesn't even know where her journey will end.
Just that it will end with God's perfect plan.
She is led to where Holy would unfurl.
There is no such thing as perfect human planning.
Just divine intermingled with our mess,
Leading us, and showing us glory!

Right there, glory.
Amidst barnyard smells,
and long journeys,
fatigue,
and lack-of-room.

Glory!