Feeling Inspired.... I'm feeling inspired. Inspired to laugh, inspired to love, inspired to create memories for my children that will last a lifetime.... I'm more excited about Christmas this year than I have been since I was a child.

Maybe its because the gifts have been bought, and wrapped. (almost) the meal is well underway (I'm as prepared as you can be in advance with Fresh Food), and in general I just feel relaxed. A good earmark of that was that I wanted to sleep late when my munchkins woke me up this morning, usually I'm up before dawn with a giant to do list for before the rest of my house wakes.

Maybe it's because I have a different set of values now. We've had a tough year, lots of illness, scary diagnosis, medical bills, marital difficulties, my faith has been confronted to a deeper degree than ever before. And it has been refined. God has been faithful, He has Sustained me, He has strengthened me and my family as we have drawn near to him. Anyway, I'm more thankful for the chaos that sometimes is my family. Sometimes you don't realize how grateful for something you are until your confronted with loosing it.

So, for me this Christmas is about love. It's about Giving, it's about time spent with those you love. Is it possible that after all these years, I have finally gotten the point, that my little four year old seems to embrace so well.

This is Christmas: twinkling lights, crisp, cool air, the sound of bells ringing, the sound of Bing Crosby crooning, the miracle of children laughing, the spirit of giving, of self sacrifice, the memory of the baby born in a smelly scratchy manger to a girl who didn't know what to do with him, the recognition that God gave up his son to this imperfect world where he would experience sickness and pain and rejection, and injustice and death, for me.... That the weight of the world and all of humanity would be cast upon those tiny quivering shoulders, and one day offer a place at the cross where we can lay our burdens down....

It's no wonder I feel inspired...

To Be Like a Little Child

To be like a little child.... Julia is hoping, wishing and praying for snow. When I think of snow I think of icy roads, frigid temperatures, messy slushiness and inconvenience. When Jules thinks of snow she thinks of magical puffy flakes drifting from even puffier clouds. She thinks of snowboots, mittens, snow men and angels. She thinks of our soggy brown yard wrapped in a blanket of clean white softness. She thinks of icicles dangling from tree branches and laughter and love. When did I stop seeing snow as magical and start to see it as a bother? When Julia thinks of celebration she thinks of family, treats, and special times... I think of my to do list, the cooking, the cleaning, the decorating and un-decorating... When did I stop looking forward to memory making and replace my anticipation with anxiety? When Julia thinks of Christmas she thinks of gift giving, and getting, of spinning around in a beautiful dress, of making ginger bread men and houses. I think of lists, wrapping, toy packaging (thank you Sara Groves) and financial crunches... When Julia thinks of family she thinks of love and laughter, sleep overs and games... I think about whether we have enough room, enough blankets, enough food and enough pillows... When Julia thinks about this time of year, she thinks about the baby Jesus and tries to imagine how He grew and who He is to her...Out of the mouths of babes....

So on my ever determined task to find perspective I am am choosing not to dwell on my list, the state of my house, or whether we have room. I am choosing to dwell on the miracle that is Christmas, that God Came Near:

~) "God Came Near"

(Written by Max Lucado)

The noise and bustle began earlier than usual in the village. As night gave way to dawn, people were already on the streets. Vendors were positioning themselves on the corners of the most heavily traveled avenues. Store owners were unlocking the doors to their shops. Children were awakened by the excited barking of the street dogs and the complaints of donkeys pulling carts.

The owner of the inn had awakened earlier than most in the town. After all, the inn was full, all the beds taken. Every available mat or blanket had been put to use. Soon all the customers would be stirring and there would be a lot of work to do.

One's imagination is kindled thinking about the conversation of the innkeeper and his family at the breakfast table. Did anyone mention the arrival of the young couple the night before? Did anyone ask about their welfare? Did anyone comment on the pregnancy of the girl on the donkey? Perhaps. Perhaps someone raised the subject. But, at best, it was raised, not discussed. There was nothing that novel about them. They were, possibly, one of several families turned away that night.

Besides, who had time to talk about them when there was so much excitement in the air? Augustus did the economy a favor when he decreed that a census should be taken. Who could remember when such commerce had hit the village?

No, it is doubtful that anyone mentioned the couple's arrival or wondered about the condition of the girl. They were too busy. The day was upon them. The day's bread had to be made. The morning's chores had to be done. There was too much to do to imagine that the impossible had occurred.

God entered the world as a baby.

Yet, were someone to chance upon the sheep stable on the outskirts of Bethlehem that morning, what a peculiar scene they would behold.

The stable stinks like all stables do. The stench of urine, dung, and sheep reeks pungently in the air. The ground is hard, the hay scarce. Cobwebs cling to the ceiling and a mouse scurries across the dirt floor.

A more lowly place of birth could not exist.

Off to one side sit a group of shepherds. They sit silently on the floor, perhaps perplexed, perhaps in awe, no doubt in amazement. Their night watch had been interrupted by an explosion of light from heaven and a symphony of angels. God goes to those who have time to hear him -- so on this cloudless night he went to simple shepherds.

Near the young mother sits the weary father. If anyone is dozing, he is. He can't remember the last time he sat down. And now that the excitement has subsided a bit, now that Mary and the baby are comfortable, he leans against the wall of the stable and feels his eyes grow heavy. He still hasn't figured it all out. The mystery event puzzles him. But he hasn't the energy to wrestle with the questions. What's important is that the baby is fine and that Mary is safe. As sleep comes he remembers the name the angel told him to use ... Jesus. "We will call him Jesus."

Wide awake is Mary. My, how young she looks! Her head rests on the soft leather of Joseph's saddle. The pain has been eclipsed by wonder. She looks into the face of the baby. Her son. Her Lord. His Majesty. At this point in history, the human being who best understands who God is and what he is doing is a teenage girl in a smelly stable. She can't take her eyes off him. Somehow Mary knows she is holding God. So this is he. She remembers the words of the angel. "His kingdom will never end."

He looks like anything but a king. His face is prunish and red. His cry, though strong and healthy, is still the helpless and piercing cry of a baby. And he is absolutely dependent upon Mary for his well-being.

Majesty in the midst of the mundane. Holiness in the filth of sheep manure and sweat. Divinity entering the world on the floor of a stable, through the womb of a teenager and in the presence of a carpenter.

She touches the face of the infant-God. How long was your journey!

This baby had overlooked the universe. These rags keeping him warm were the robes of eternity. His golden throne room had been abandoned in favor of a dirty sheep pen. And the worshiping angels had been replaced with kind but bewildered shepherds.

Meanwhile, the city hums. The merchants are unaware that God has visited their planet. The innkeeper would never believe that he has just sent God into the cold. And the people would scoff at anyone who told them the Messiah lay in the arms of a teenager on the outskirts of their village. They were all too busy to consider the possibility.

Those who missed His Majesty's arrival that night missed it not because of evil acts or malice; no, they missed it because they simply weren't looking.

Little has changed in the last two thousand years, has it?

"While they were there, the time came for the baby to be born, and she gave birth to her firstborn, a son. She wrapped him in cloths and placed him in a manger, because there was no room for them in the inn. And there were shepherds living out in the fields nearby, keeping watch over their flocks at night. An angel of the Lord appeared to them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified. But the angel said to them, 'Do not be afraid. I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all the people. Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; he is Christ the Lord. This will be a sign to you: You will find a baby wrapped in cloths and lying in a manger.' Suddenly a great company of the heavenly host appeared with the angel, praising God and saying, 'Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace to men on whom his favor rests.' When the angels had left them and gone into heaven, the shepherds said to one another, 'Let's go to Bethlehem and see this thing that has happened, which the Lord has told us about.' So they hurried off and found Mary and Joseph, and the baby, who was lying in the manger. When they had seen him, they spread the word concerning what had been told them about this child, and all who heard it were amazed at what the shepherds said to them. But Mary treasured up all these things and pondered them in her heart. The shepherds returned, glorifying and praising God for all the things they had heard and seen, which were just as they had been told." Luke 2:6-20 (NIV)

Glory to God in the Highest... This is all that matters....

A Happy Mess

Piles of laundry, a sink full of dishes, meals to prepare and toys everywhere. What do I begin with, what should I tackle first? Kids that need attention, a dog that won't sit still, a cat that needs feeding... The list goes on and on. This morning I rose early, later than I'd intended, but earlier than yesterday. I baked bread, prepared breakfast, packaged home made gifts for preschool teachers, kissed my husband goodbye and patted myself on the back for being the quintessential Proverbs 31 wife. I ran some errands, put the baby down for a nap, squeezed in a shower, made up my face and made it back to preschool in time for the Christmas extravaganza. By lunch time I was tired, shaky and rewarded my good behavior with McDonald's. After all, its all about balance, right?

I am staring at my messy house wondering which which of the rooms needs me the most. Instead, I decide to write this blog. It makes me feel better to get my thoughts down anyway. I'm tired. I want to be done for the day, but the mountain of tasks will just get bigger if I don't start climbing it soon.

But, I'm determined remember? Determined to stay joyful in this chaos all around me. Determined not to let grumpy toddlers and preschoolers steal my smile. Determined to be grateful for this comfortable home that I live in in and the people who fill it with laughter and love. Grateful for the laundry because it means we have clothes, cute ones at that. Grateful for the dishes, because it means my family has been fed. Grateful for the meals that need to be prepared for that means I have food to prepare them. Grateful for even the dog, who actually stayed when I told her to. So I am content to be happy with this mess that is my home, after all they are only things that make it messy, things that I am grateful for. Because inside my soul, where it counts all is in order and at peace and I will climb this mountain of things to do, one step at a time and be happy to rest when I've done enough. Even if I didn't do it all. Tomorrow it'll still be here, and so will I.

Some Days

Some days you wake up hearing birds singing, wind sailing, and tree limbs dancing. Some days you wake up to glimmering sun shine, the smell of coffee brewing, just a little earlier than your alarm, but you feel refreshingly alert and ready to tackle your day.

Some days you wake up a little late, a little tired, to crying children, gloomy drizzly rain, searing wind and an empty coffee bean jar. Today was one of those days.

Its funny how the way you rise can so alter the rest of the day. The mornings that I wake up a step behind, I attempt to catch up all day long.... Unfortunately, it seems those days come all to often. You know those days, the ones where you feel like your running a race, only your struggling through a pool of water beside a sprinter who seems to be running on air, the days where you can't find the other shoe, you run out of diapers, or God forbid, coffee. On those days the most common of tasks seems to take extra laborious effort. The intended result falls just a little short of the goal, and you are exhausted from the most mundane of to dos.

I struggle to find joy on those days. I constantly try to surrender my agenda and my controlling perfectionist tendencies, to nurture my grumpy children and to enjoy my roll serving and home-making. I'm not gonna lie, I fail more than I succeed. I end up yelling a little more than I need to, perpetuating the crying rather than alleviating it, I trip over the lost shoe, drop the bag of groceries and kick the dog. Lets just say I give in to the temptation to throw a good fit, and than I discipline my children for doing the same.

I am determined to have less of those days, I suspect it has more to do with the time I spend with God in the morning than whether the wind is whistling or streaking. I suspect it has more to do with placing a higher value on relationships than tasks and accomplishments, I suspect it has more to do with my focus. So, here's my pledge, that I will start my day with a gaze pointed heavenward. That I will view my life and those in it through a filter of His love and that I will be satisfied with my purpose to honor and serve Him and those He's called me to. And if I have to, I'll wear different shoes and hit Starbucks on the way out...