What a difference 365 days can make. One year ago this week...
Our cards aren't in the mail. Fail. Got a note requesting a parent meeting at school. Could be an Uh-Oh. Coaching for the first time in ten years. High bomb potential. Can't find the "perfect" gift for hubby. Feel shoulders tightening.
Haven't called Grandma. House is a fright. Not a great cook. Family needs to eat. Behind on Advent reading. Article to submit. Skipped the gym. Ate the pie. Dog needs heart worm meds. Shut-in to visit. Meal to deliver. Gifts to ship. Errands for school. Errands for church. Errands for kids. Errands for errands sake.
You're bombing this thing...
The door is left unlocked in the dark of night. Candles are lit, placed carefully on window sills. Each member of the family lies still in their beds, expectant. They listen eagerly for a creak in the hinge or boots on the floorboards, alerting them to a visitor's arrival. Will their risk to shine the light leave them vulnerable this Christmas?
It's the official three-day countdown until we all lose our minds. Seriously, how is Christmas just five weeks away? I have a turkey thawing in the fridge, a request for blueberry pie, and I've shown the patience of Job by not putting up my Christmas decorations yet. Well, not-so-close to the restraint of Job, but good enough for me since there's a lit-up "turkey tree" sitting proud in my living room already.
I steal away to type these few quiet words to you as Christmas day creeps up on us once again. You'd think I'd be more alert. Ready. Over-prepared even. And yet, here I sit - the sounds of a house brimming over with family alerting me to how quickly the year's flown by. Chattering voices echo up the stairs and I'm reminded that there's still work to be done, games to be played, and stories to be shared. Little sleep, lots of laughs. I'm worn out but full, as so many of us are.
And so these moments arrive - the ones we've prepared for in advance, stocked pantries for, and turned over in our heads as we've laid our tired selves down to sleep at night. Maybe your house is a little too loud this year or perhaps the silence is deafening. Maybe it's just the right amount of crowded with a dash of "home-cooked," like mine. It could be that you've settled in for a quiet weekend of holy solitude or you're hitting the road if you haven't already...
Wherever you land this season, here's wishing you a Christmas Pause. Breathe. Repeat.
Love is here,
So the Word became human and made His home among us.
He was full of unfailing love and faithfulness.
And we have seen His glory,
the glory of the Father’s one and only Son.
(John 1:14, Msg.)
A door left unlocked in the dark of night. Candles lit and placed carefully on window sills. Families lying still in their beds, expectant and praying that their risk to shine the light won't leave them vulnerable to further persecution. Christmas.
Our cards aren't in the mail. Fail. Received a note requesting a parent meeting at school. Could be an Uh-Oh. Coaching for the first time in ten years. High flop potential. Can't find the "perfect" gift for hubby. Feel shoulders tightening. Haven't called Grandma. House is a fright. Not a great cook. Family needs to eat. Behind on Advent reading. Article to submit. Skipped the gym. Ate the pie. Dog needs heart worm meds. Shut-in to visit. Meal to deliver. Gifts to ship. Errands for school. Errands for church. Errands for kids. Errands for errands sake.
You're bombing this thing...
We pray that this Thanksgiving is your most restful, brimming-with-gratitude holiday yet. This pie is one of our ultimate favorites. Quick. Delicious. A crowd pleaser. From our family to yours, a PRINTABLE recipe "so easy the kids can do it!"
Pie Filling Ingredients:
Photo Credit: Printable Background- Dmytro Yakymuk, Bottom - All rights reserved @theGrittyPearl
My family's a little weird. Well, maybe I'm just weird and my husband goes along with it. It doesn't phase him when I come up with a "let's try something new" idea. In fact, one of my very favorite things about that man is that he's never bowed down to other people's opinions about him. "Sure, why not?" is the response I usually get. I've spent a lifetime trying to figure out how to do that - letting God sand down the rough edges of my "permission-seeking" over the years.
This is exactly how we ended up with a Christmas tree in our living room.
He looks at me from beneath his eyelashes. His lunch tray is disheveled at this point, with half-eaten flecks of food scattered about. His fingers carry evidence of chronic nail-biting and his voice is barely audible above the hum of the cafeteria. I wish I could scoop him into my arms and carry him far from all of the noise and the trouble. I wish I could raise him myself.
"I'm wondering what happened right before you punched your friend," I speak to him quietly. "Your Dad's on his way and I was hoping we could talk about that a little bit while we wait." I watch as his pale blue eyes drift up from his tray and focus on mine. He shrugs his shoulders.
"It doesn't really matter what happened. My Dad's always mad."
M.S. in Marriage and Family Therapy. Earns Crossfit participation trophies. Disaster cook. Enthusiastic wife. #Boymom. Clutches her faith, not her pearls.