12.23.17

        I found myself sitting in the floor, wrapping gifts with squabbling children and muttering quietly under my breath, "I hate children". 
Then my husband came home after working late, and everyone treated him like a waiter at dinner and I heard him mumble, "Oh I hate children." 

     We don't usually say this kind of thing. God has blessed us with a large and ever-growing family, and we love our kids, love sharing our lives with them, and we love Christmas- the lights, the music, the cozy times reading, the Christmas baking and visiting. 
But this year I keep hearing a whisper in my ear; "This is empty. This is worthless. This has no meaning." 
Only in the last few days have I realized how often I have listened to that whisper, and how I had begun to believe it. 

      Advent is a waiting time, a waiting for the light to burst into flames in the darkness. But the advent of Christ, his lowly birth in a stable also heralded weeping and grief as the mothers of babies had their children torn from their arms, as Herod sought for that tiny, lovely king-baby gifted to a Jewish virgin. Satan has always hated children, and stops at nothing to snuff out their life, their breath, their very souls. 

      The celebrations God ordained for his chosen people always centered on remembering Him; remembering what He had done for them, what miracles he had performed, what feats of daring and mystery they had witnessed, what laws should be upheld and obeyed.  And always the proclamation, "And ye shall teach them your children, speaking of them when thou sittest in thine house, and when thou walkest by the way, when thou liest down, and when thou risest up.

     As a Christian, celebrating light in seasons of darkness ought to be
second nature. Giving gifts thoughtfully chosen in memory of our true Gift  should be a joy and not a drudgery.  But I kept hearing this low, mocking voice as I pick up my Bible to read from Proverbs or the Christmas Story out loud to my kids. 
"This is empty and meaningless and worthless. It is all worthless." 

       It is not worthless! God came down and clothed himself in our flesh and bone- he nursed,  he slept, he grew and cried and laughed. He was full human. He was full God. 
      Our earth was hallowed by his first footsteps to his mother, and his last footsteps towards the cross. Our earth can have joy and sorrow side by side, as we live in the light of his life. 
The things we do have meaning, they have purpose, and one day we will see all the threads connected, glorious, spread out like golden stars across a dark blue sky.

Merry Christmas, and this joyful, sorrowful, holy Season's Greetings.

Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, and cometh down from the Father of lights, with whom is no variableness, neither shadow of turning.

James 1.17

For unto us a child is born, unto us a son is given: and the government shall be upon his shoulder: and his name shall be called Wonderful, Counseller, The mighty God, The everlasting Father, The Prince of Peace.

Isaiah 9.6

11.1.17

                               Wednesday, November 1

        Driving through the fog yesterday I was listening to a somewhat somber song by John Michael Talbot, when suddenly the music changed, and with an exultant rush the chorus almost shouted, "On the third day! On the third day! On the third day, He rose again!"  Such a feeling of joy and sweetness filled my soul and overflowed down the edges. There are seasons of waiting, like those three days in the tomb when most of the believers faltered in their beliefs. There are seasons of mist and fog, and gray days, and stumbling. But because of that third day, because of Christ rising and ascending from the grave and then into heaven, the sun is always just around the corner.

I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills, from whence cometh my help.

My help cometh from the LORD, which made heaven and earth.

He will not suffer thy foot to be moved: he that keepeth thee will not slumber.

Behold, he that keepeth Israel shall neither slumber nor sleep.

The LORD is thy keeper: the LORD is thy shade upon thy right hand.

The sun shall not smite thee by day, nor the moon by night.

The LORD shall preserve thee from all evil: he shall preserve thy soul.

The LORD shall preserve thy going out and thy coming in from this time forth, and even for evermore. 

Psalm 121

October 19 2017

                                               October 19 2017

       This house hums loud in the quiet dark of a Thursday morning seven o'clock. I lie in bed awake, remembering my evening prayers;  I asked for singleness of mind, gentleness for my children, and the ability to stay present in my daily life. I don't want to check out of reality any more- clicking and tapping away, a blank, black device obscuring my face from my children. Kyrie Eleison. Christe eleison. Lord, have mercy. Christ have mercy.

          In the last few years I have one by one checked out of most forms of social media- first Facebook, then Instagram, then slowly but sadly deleting each hoarded Pin Board.   

     Many of the perceived connections that I thought were so valuable proved empty, the relationships carefully stroked with picture comments and exclamation points proved hollow.
   I don't regret it.  And yet, always temptation beckons at the door, and idolatry is always ready to meet me more than halfway. EBay and Amazon can be just as alluring, the promise of a package in the mail just as exciting as the old red notifications in my FB inbox. Shopping fills a void. .. for a moment. 

The moment passes; the void is still there. 

       Oh, to run to God the way I've run to material things! To run to Christ the way I embraced my sexuality as a means to security! If only I could be as fervent in the Holy Spirit as I've been fervent in finishing projects- always finishing, finishing, rushing towards the final step as if it will complete me. 

         Kyrie Eleison. Wake me from my complacency O God. Wake me into your holiness, your living, breathing, satisfying righteousness.

        Remember now thy Creator in the days of thy youth, while the evil days come not, nor the years draw nigh, when thou shalt say, I have no pleasure in them;  While the sun, or the light, or the moon, or the stars, be not darkened, nor the clouds return after the rain...

       ...Or ever the silver cord be loosed, or the golden bowl be broken, or the pitcher be broken at the fountain, or the wheel broken at the cistern. 

Ecclesiastes 12

9.18.17

                                   September 18,   2 0 1 7 

          The hills are green and golden again, and the  gray autumn skies that seem to last forever make the blue ones even more incredible by contrast. The leaves fall, quickly, thickly, and the sound of winter hovers just around the corner.

        David falls asleep on my chest, his hair soft and sweet against my lips. He is such a precious boy, and I love to see his serious little face occasionally break into the widest, most delightful of grins. The nine months of waiting for him seemed to last forever, and the two months since his birth have flown by on wings. I can't get enough of him, and am always rushing through my tasks in order to be with him again.
   
       I am so grateful to God, who blesses me beyond belief and knows always what is best for me. May I remember Him, even on those dark days, dim with uncertainty. May I remember always, His love for me has never, and will never, fail.



                                                             

April 2017

                                                   April 2017

          The grass of our lawn is the pale golden brown of Naomi's hair; spring grass.   We bring in bare birch branches, and I fill a tall gold vase with them. The tiny, furling green leaves at last come forth, forerunners of the green that has yet to appear on the trees outside.  Naomi runs in small circles, laughing as the still-dry grass tickles her feet. She's in a blue-green dress, and her sweet daintiness reminds me of a forget-me-not.
       Robin races back and forth across our small yard, his puppy heart contented as he leaps eagerly for the bubbles the kids are blowing off of the deck.
Apple cake in the oven for tomorrow's breakfast, and Tony is almost on his way home.
 A long and peaceful day, the honey-toned sunshine lasting hour after hour and the goodness of God so open, so unashamedly good.