The Reason for This

I'm trying to write more.

(Have I said this before? Have I written a post just like this before? I feel like I have, but, since I write here mostly for my own therapeutic purposes, I'm not going to take the time to go check my previous posts to find out.

So to get back to this post...)

Actually, I write almost every day. I just don't write here. Do any of you keep a journal, with actual paper and pen or pencil? Maybe you throw in some stickers and combine it into an art journal? I have one of those too (no stickers, but lots of ink and pencil and oil pastels), but my "journal" journal is just words.

Yes, I call it my journal journal, but usually only in my head.

It is the best form of therapy.

On Friday, my husband and father-in-law cleared all the many, MANY boxes out of our study, which we are likely converting to a bedroom. My mother-in-law then did some much needed organizing of the school cabinet and craft supplies, and that left me with a gazillion boxes of books to sort. Let's just say, I still have half a gazillion left to sort. Have we really read all.those.books?

I think not.

The point in telling you about the major clean-up is to say that, in the midst of all those boxes, I found three of my old journals, the most recent three, other than the one in which I am currently writing and one other that I finished filling last spring. I'm trying to gather all these journals into my Lane cedar chest. We're talking years of journals. As I find them, they're going there.

But for what purpose?

I was reading some of my words (and there are A LOT of words in these journals), and I started to think about the purpose in writing them. I began this journaling adventure at age 12 when my Great Aunt Ruby gave me my first little diary as a Christmas gift. It was a small book, but I was new at this, so it took me ages to fill it. By mid-high school, I was filling journals a little quicker, though I have taken several, random hiatuses over the years, especially in college and in the early baby years. Now, however, I have consistently written for years and years.

Why?

Initially, the words were just adolescent meanderings on the page. When I find those early volumes, I will likely cringe at my girlish ridiculousness and laugh at myself and my antics. I have a friend that told me her journals are filled with boy craziness. I was never boy crazy. I was more like, obsessively and secretly devoted to one boy for years. And years. I switched to a new boy a couple times, but, still, I was fully devoted to the boy. That could be fun to read.

Or not.

So I have these volumes of journals. The other night, I couldn't resist reading through the fall of 2012 into the winter months. I'm sure this is because I am sadistic or enjoy torturing myself. Wow, how those months hurt. They still hurt. That said, do you know how much JOY is in there? In the midst of all that sorrow? Verse after verse of joy, hope, encouragement, entire passages of scripture that got me through it, moments of sunshine in the midst of the greatest sadness I have ever experienced.

And that's why I write. I will always have a reference for my journey, raw descriptions that are so private and personal that only my eyes will see them while I am on this earth.

But there's the other purpose that I've only recently discovered. When I was sorting my parents belongings two years ago, every item that was personally written by Mom or Dad was a treasure. Love letters written by Dad during their dating season, lists of Mom's favorite things, and even little grocery lists spoke of who they were. My favorites were the brief notes written into their Bibles. I didn't even know Mom did that until after she passed.

I write for the future. Some day, maybe someone will want to read my words, though, as I said, there are so many that I doubt they ever read them all. What I want them to see on those overflowing pages is love. Love for Christ, love for family, love for people. Beyond that, my journey is real, and there have been some heartwrenching moments and some beautiful moments, and sometimes those two collide and become the most intense, precious moments of life. That's what I want them to see. Hope always exists. 

Hope always exists.

They will also see my lack of trust, my lack of faith, my lack of joy. But that's authentic, isn't it?

Some day, someone will read my words. I will be gone, but this piece of me will be left. I don't pretend to believe that my journals will be around for generations, but I do hope they help my own children through something, and maybe my grandchildren. Maybe that's hoping too much, but I know how much it has helped me to read my own parents' words in an even less formal form.

I think I'll wrap this up and go spend some time with Jesus and maybe fill another page or two. Blessings to you, reader! Go write something that someone might treasure!

A Long Blog Post About Not Writing Enough Blog Posts

I have virtually ignored this blog for two months. Not even virtually. More like, completely. And, really, even prior to that, I wasn't really writing. I was mostly biding my time here. Making feeble attempts at keeping my blog going. Mostly, this is because I don't do things that are just because I enjoy them, or (to make half of you cringe), I don't do things just for me.

If I read that exact sentence above on any blog, I would probably have rolled my eyes a little, stopped right there, and moved to the next blog. "Another post about how moms need to take time for themselves? No way. Not for me."

Actually, I don't even take the time to read blogs anymore, and I love reading blogs. I love reading books. And magazines. I love reading internet articles. Dictionaries. I love reading dictionaries. Okay, so I don't love reading dictionaries, but since I was inserting this somewhat pointless paragraph about my love of reading, why not throw in a meager attempt at humor?

Maybe I'm so lost in this business of life that I can't even focus long enough to create a cohesive blog post? 

Maybe I should take a deep breath (I really did. You should too!), and refocus.

Don't get me wrong here. I am so not the mommy blogger who gets all hyped up about "me time." I despise that phrase. I think it is way over used (much like the word "way" is also way overused, but I can't seem to eliminate it without sounding all wordy or antiquated). I also think moms use it as an excuse to justify selfishness.

HANG ON!

"Did she just say that?"

Yeah. I did, but, let me once again throw out the often used phrase, don't get me wrong. Balance. We all need balance. There are two sides to this swinging pendulum, and it's equally wrong to let it swing in either direction and stick there. Plus getting hit with a gigantor pendulum hurts.

Just as ignoring all of your wants, needs, talents, hobbies, and desires is not good for you or your family, neither is making "me time" an idol. Find balance, my friends. In fact, that's kind of the theme of my life right now.

Find balance.
This blog post is about rescuing myself from drowning. Yes. I get it. I know what you feel like. I understand that great, deep desire to do something that is only for you, or maybe it is for someone else but it's something that you completely and totally love doing. Same fulfillment.

I have empathy. I empathize with the mom of the screaming baby who will.not.stop. You feed him, change his diaper, give him gas drops, put on some extra clothes because maybe he's cold, strip him down to his diaper because maybe he's hot, lay him in his cradle because maybe he doesn't want to be touched, pick him up because maybe he needs to establish trust, drive him around the neighborhood at 2 in the morning, sit his car seat on the dryer, and STILL, he continues to do nothing but SCREAM...

Oh I have been there, mamas.

I have experienced the toddler who screamed hysterically over something that I can't even remember. My neighbors were alerted and came to see that all was well.

How about the 4 year old who made my heart skip a beat when he got out of bed before me, took my keys off the counter, and went to the car to get the toy he left there the day before? You have not seen pride on your child's face until you have seen this boy's excitement over his great accomplishment. Did you hear what he did? He took my keys, went to the parking lot of of our apartment complex, got into the car, and then got back into the apartment using our electronic key. Imagine if even one part of that had gone wrong. I can still see his beaming smile and feel the panic in my gut as I contemplate, once again, what might have happened to my little guy.

Wow. How did I miss that this boy child was so hard on me in the early years?

No matter. You get it. I know how overwhelmed we are. All of us. With infants and toddlers and pre-teens and teens and adult children. Parenting is hard stuff. 

And in the midst of it, I am still me. You are still you.

So I am changing things up. I'm rediscovering things that make me tick. Purposefully. When time allows. When I make time allow.

I'm going to write. I'm going to read. I'm going to scrapbook with actual craft supplies because that's the way I roll. I'm going to crochet and watch old movies with stars like Cary Grant and Audrey Hepburn and Jimmy Stewart and Shirley Temple. I'm going to craft and think and breathe things that I love. Weekly. Daily? Maybe.

Purposefully.

Remember when you were single and doing things you love just because you loved them was okay?

Guess what?

It still is.

Yes, it will make me a better person. Yes, it will make my children better people because they will see me enjoying life more. Blah, blah, blah. You've read all those blogs just like I have. You've seen the countless Facebook posts.

No, it will not replace the time I spend teaching, home making, serving at church, hanging out with my family, etc... Mostly, it'll eliminate all the time I waste doing stupid things (like the 30 minutes that pass every single day between when I say, "I'm going to work out," and when I actually hit play on the BluRay player). 

Last week I started the afghan you see posted at the top of this post. My daughter is such a bundle of spunk, and she chose the yarn so perfectly for herself. This afghan screams of who she is. I started writing this blog. I would even take some real pictures if I had a working camera. 

If most of us are honest with ourselves, we have time for the things that are most important to us. That's another blog post entirely, isn't it?

Next, to organize the scrapbooking space so I can actually enjoy some time doing actual scrapbooking.

I'll keep you posted.

13 Years a Mama

13 years a mama. To this ^^^ handsome boy.

There are a few beliefs I held 13 years ago that I can officially debunk.

1. 13 years of being a mom is not a long time. There aren't a lot of things that we spend 13 consecutive years doing. The proverbial length of your 13 years are depends on how much you enjoy what you're doing. 13 years of school, for example, was the longest 13 years for some people, and some would say the same thing of parenting (which makes me cringe). 13 years of parenting, for me, has been better than I could ever have imagined, and my imagination is pretty wild!

2. I am still.so.young. I remember looking at my friends who had teen-agers and thinking things like, "They're so much older." Now? I look at those same people and think, they're really not much older than me, and at 38 years old, I still feel young. Lots of adventures are ahead of me. Having a teen in the house doesn't change that.

3. Parenting pre-teens is a blast. Sure, there are moments, but, mostly, as your kids are becoming these great, intellectually capable, grown-up people, it is a joy-filled journey. I knew I would love parenting through the little kid stages, but this? I never saw it coming. Seriously. Don't let our culture fool you. Don't get stuck assuming it's going to stink. It doesn't have to. It pretty much rocks. Maybe it is what you make it, and I choose to make it this amazing experience. I choose the same for the next 10 years of parenting teen-agers too.

I know that some of you might be thinking that I may be naive. He's only 13. You've "been there, done that." I get it. I'm not saying pre-teens are easy, and I'm not expecting the teen years to be easy either. I'm just saying, there is a ton of joy here, and isn't that where we should be focusing our thoughts? Let's face it, Americans have a love affair with the negative, dramatic, difficult, trials of life. I choose to find camaraderie in the joy instead, and I want all of you to know that joy exists right here! So much joy!

So anyway, 13 years a mama. How awesome is that? I love that I am the mom of a teenager! It's something new! Something fun! I'm always up for an adventure.

My boy is incredible. He is one of the smartest people I know. I'm pretty sure the fact that he can create just about anything from Legos is going to lead him to one of the best careers ever. He is genuinely helpful, and he has a heart that naturally wants to take care of the people he loves. He seeks God on his own!!! I am sure I'll be blogging about him again in a few months because he is on target to complete a one year Bible reading plan because he chose to do so without prodding. In fact, it was his idea! He's also studying high school biology this year at his request, and I think I might be a little more intimidated than he is, not because of the material, but of the responsibility of teaching a 13 year old the intricacies of biology. It's going to be a blast, and I am seriously excited about it, but..yeah. Big responsibility. But to Lukas? It's just another learning opportunity.

Lukas is so many things...Joy-filled. Humorous. Creative. Smart. Musical. Loving. Kind. Seeker of knowledge. Seeker of God. He is discovering God in new ways and growing his faith. He is more than I could have imagined. 

But mostly?

He is mine. My son. My boy. The one who made me a mama, who made Eric a daddy.

We are so blessed, so filled by God because of this boy. 

So very, very grateful.

Hard. Change.

Yesterday I was texting back and forth with a friend. I have been rather emotional lately for what I perceive to be "no apparent reason." She often says profound things to me at just the right moments. This is why I love her. Sensing my complete exasperation with myself, my not-yet-organized house, the impending school year, and on and on I could continue listing all the silly things that were on my roster of inconveniences, she simply said, "It's called change. It's HARD."

Of course, then I decide I should write something today. Why? Well, it's been months since I have written anything. Moving is busy. Moving is hard. It is all consuming, and writing? Writing is merely a hobby for the moment. When I open my rusty little blog, what do my eyes fall upon but the last post I wrote in May. 

Easy. Change.

No kidding, that is my last post. God speaks, friends! You just don't usually expect Him to use your own words to speak to you! 

You can go read that post if you want, but the short version is basically that change is never easy even when it is good. Maybe especially when it is good in some situations. We are in that place now.

When we moved last month, I settled on spending my daily Jesus time on the front porch. Day after day, I sat in awe of God thinking things like, "I live here!" and "Only in my wildest dreams did I ever imagine," as I shook my head slightly from side-to-side exactly as I am doing at this very moment as I type this post. I would look at the little white church across the field from our house and shake my head a little more. God did this! Incredible!

And now, here I sit, a month into this awe-inspiring turn of events realizing that, as Mindy said, "It's called change. It's hard."

Sigh.

I am still in awe of God and how He has moved in our lives. I am still shaking my head from side to side with a small smile on my lips as I remember where we have been and what we have gone through and how much better things are for us, and I wonder what in the world is God going to do next? I have no doubt of the awesomeness of God because of this bumpy journey we have traveled.

God is good. I wish that wasn't so cliche so that it's true meaning could weigh upon you its full effect. God.is.good. Savor that. Rest in it. Hold onto it when life grabs you by the hair and drags you through a desert. I have been there, and I know. Different circumstances, same feelings. Different people, same grief. Different places, same sorrow. Different race, same exhaustion. 

God  was with me in my desert. And the blessings He has for me now? Abundant. Increasingly so.

I began this post wondering where I was going, and I am not sure where this writing journey has brought me except to remind me that, when I have an emotional moment, when I miss those friends and places and events that are so near to my heart and a tear runs down my cheek, it is with joy in my heart that I find myself so blessed to miss them. To leave a place and not miss it is true sadness, to leave behind no one that you love, to not want to return...that would be a true sorrow, would it not?

Today I see blessing. Yes, there are hard things about this great change in our lives, but it is the most humbling blessing to be where we are, to find ourselves wondering, "Why us? God? Why would you choose us for THIS?" for we could not be more honored to be chosen.

God is good, and blessings are abundant, and even then, change...is hard.

Good change. Sitting on the edge of your seat anticipating greatness kind of change.

It's still hard.

And God is there. In the hard change, you will find God if you look closely.

Go ahead.

I dare you.

Look!

Easy. Change.

Change.

Some change is good, some is bad. Sometimes it is just what we need, and sometimes it is beyond our reach. Sometimes change happens without our consent, and sometimes we are the instigators. 

If a particular change is good, just what we need, within our reach, and we are the instigators of it, it should be easy, right? If a particular change provides for our needs better, puts us in the center of God's will, grows us, stretches us, brings us blessing beyond measure, peace that surpasses human understanding, and joy, then shouldn't it be easy?

I wish it were so.

Easy. Change. 

Opposites.

Pray for our family. God is doing amazing things here at the McEvoys, with the McEvoys, for the McEvoys. He is good, and we see His hand carving the beautiful moments of our life's journey with pristine detail. He knows us, and He loves us, and He has stirred our hearts with excitement.

He is God. And any change He wants for me is a change I want.

But easy?

Nope. Change isn't easy.

March 2014 10 on 10

 I snuggled under this cozy blanket during my quiet time. It's a family favorite. It was Lukas' bedspread for several years. His Grandma made it for him when he was 2, and she did a great job because now we argue over who gets to use it!

 We are reading The Hobbit together.

 There are several notable things about this photo that I enjoy and wanted to share. First, this is one of the planters that I received when my parents passed away (I don't remember which one since they passed so close together), and it is my favorite plant combo of those planters. It is also sitting on an antique washstand that belonged to my parents. I know I should refinish it, but that burn mark that is obviously from a hot iron is actually a little endearing to me these days. Maybe someday, I'll refinish it (and maybe someday, I'll dust it too...haha).

 Within that mess is a little bit of life that looks like the leaves of my mama's bleeding heart!!!

 A girl, a shovel, and rainbow wellies.

 I know it's just a cupboard, right? But it isn't. It looks just like some of the cupboards that were in our house when I was a teen, both inside and out!

 Lilac roses in a Mason jar. :)

 One of Ava's projects from art class. I love it!

Steaming kettle ready to fill my daily pot-o-tea. Please ignore messy stovetop.

This will be gone to my sister's house soon, so I thought I would snap one last photo. Mama's yard swing holds memories for all of us. Eric and I sat on this swing in my mama's flower garden the night before our wedding so that we could season our marriage with prayer. All of the grandchildren were rocked and played with on this swing, and my sister and I had many conversations with my mama on this swing.

Check out other 10 on 10 posts by clicking over to the blog hop HERE.

90 Days, or Maybe Not?

So...90 days through the Bible. Yeah. Still behind.

I'm still going strong, or, rather, I'm still plugging away, but I wouldn't really use the word strong to qualify my attempts.

I am reading and engaging with God daily, and my heart is swelling with all that I am absorbing, learning, hearing, and noticing.

Each day I begin my quiet time by whispering a simple prayer. "Father, breathe Your word into me. Teach me something new and beautiful, and show me the timeless truths of old."

Try it. He will answer you!

So, I believe I will accomplish this venture in 120 days at the most. I am On Day 49 (if I remember correctly), and I should be on Day 64. I'm okay with it. I don't even feel a subtle pang of guilt over not keeping up. I chose this. I chose to engage more with the word rather than rushing through, not that reading it for face value doesn't have it's purpose in our lives. It just wasn't working the best for me. Sometimes I have days when I do read it that way, and I catch up a little. Today was one of those days. I read close to two days worth of scripture in the same amount of time I sometimes get through half a day! I rock! Or so I told myself when I finished.

I am amazed at what God is teaching me, how He is encouraging me, the stories I have forgotten, the things I understand for the first time...

I could go on and on.

I am so grateful that my friend, Amy, brought this challenge to my attention at a time when I could choose to take on the task. It has been astoundingly rewarding, and I am not even finished!

It could be said that I may not have time to blog until May. I miss it, but I have to say that the trade-off has been worth it.

It should be said that I have the two most amazing children on this green earth. They are so dedicated to my finishing of this challenge that they work diligently on their schoolwork during the entire 90 minutes I spend reading each day in virtual silence (other than our chosen instrumental soundtrack of the morning). If I had children who needed prodding or reminding, I don't know how I could do this. I give one child an assignment book, and he barely looks at it because he knows his tasks, and the other child gets a white board with a daily list which she attacks with gusto. They are awesome. Parts of my heart feel the pangs of their growth at times like this, but that is a topic for another post. They bring me joy.

And they are still plugging away at their own 90 day Bible reading challenges, though they may not quite have stuck to the guidelines. Dear daughter had been reading in the book of Psalms before her 90 day book of John study. She has added a chart that she drew herself at the bottom of her John chart. She is reading half of her John passage each day so that she can have time for a Psalm or two each day. This is just fine with me. It is within a reasonable expectation for her. I am proud of her choices.

Dear son desperately wanted to study the book of Exodus, so he has decided to extend his 90 day new Testament reading into April so that he can do both simultaneously. Also fine with me. He sits in the living room with me and shares what he is learning as he progresses through his readings. I sit in wonder at his understanding and grasp of the truths of God.

You see, my kids are engaging God each day. My kids are falling in love with the Word of God. 

My kids are falling in love with the Word of God!!!

This 90 day thing may not have been quite the right time limitation for us, but this scripture thing? For this, we are perfectly suited.

The Simple Woman's Daybook: February

For Today: 2/3/14

Outside my window... the mid-morning February sky is dismal and everything appears to be shaded.

Praising God... for a fresh start this morning.

In prayer for... rewarded diligence.

I am thinking... that staying home is the best choice I could have made for today (and maybe tomorrow too).

I am thankful... for roses still looking gorgeous after 9 days in a Mason jar.

In the kitchen... a pot of chili.

I am wearing... pink pajamas with hearts on them. Why not?

I am creating... a gift for someone I love.

I am going... to begin a new ministry opportunity this week with the Lord's guidance and (hopefully) grace and patience from others involved.

I am wondering... when?
 
I am reading... The Bible in 90 Days (or so).
 
I am hoping... for change.
 
I am learning... that obedience often means not being understood by anyone. Even Christians.
 
Around the house... schooling, laundry, meal planning, and grocery list making.
 
A favorite quote for today...
"We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us." Marianne Williamson
 
One of my favorite things... slow mornings with my favorite people.

A few plans: Bill Nye/Ken Ham debate tomorrow, women's small group, junior high lit club, and a Lego competition.

Today's soundtrack... 

To enjoy more Daybooks, visit http://thesimplewomansdaybook.blogspot.com/. Better yet, join us, and write your own!

More of Jesus in 90 Days

I believe I mentioned to you that I was reading through the Bible in 90 days. Here is my one-month-into-said-challenge-update post.

I am behind. By 7 days.

It isn't that I am not reading daily. It's that I'm terrible at just reading. 

"Read it like a novel." "Keep going." "Just get it done." 

That isn't me.

I have considered this challenge in the past and avoided it because I knew this about myself, and, while I didn't anticipate falling behind this much, I did anticipate that I might feel this way. I am a student by nature. When I read something that I don't remember reading previously, or something that is very applicable to my current life journey or the journey of a friend or family member, I want to cross reference it, write down a verse or two, meditate, pray, journal, and study. This often leaves me about 2/3 of the way through my daily reading plan after spending 90 minutes on the couch.
 
The truth is, I don't love this challenge, but I see value in it. I am learning and being stretched because I am spending a little more time with the Lord each day, but there is a price. I'm spending more time in the Word and less time in prayer; more time being still and less time being Mom, not that reading the Word isn't part of showing my children what a daily walk with Christ looks like, but there are duties I usually do in that extra half hour each day that are not getting done. School gets started later and goes later into the afternoon (or evening these days). The laundry piles up. Lunch is often prepared by the kids.

I am glad I committed to this challenge. I'm going to keep pressing forward, and I'm going to finish the entire Bible. Will I do it in 90 days? Will I stress over those 7 days or if those 7 days become 8 or 11 or 13? I might because I am a one of those "first born always tries to follow the rules" kinds of gals, but I hope I stress less and lean into the Lord more. Because it isn't about finishing in 90 days for me. It's about 90 minutes with the Lord each day. It's about pressing into the Father, hearing His heart, His voice, His Spirit speak to me. It's about growth and knowledge and wisdom.

It it takes me an extra 10 days to get more of that, or an extra month (or, seriously, if you're doing this and it takes you a whole year, who cares???), then it is worth it.

More of Jesus. That's what I want. That's why I'm doing this.

The Super-duper Awesomely Spectacular Surprise

Stunned.

That's the only way to describe how I felt.

About a week before Christmas, I got a phone call from my fabulous college roommate, Jessica, who lives in L.A. where she and her wonderful husband, Lonnie, work in "the" industry. They are cooler than us, and I'm okay with that because they always let us hang out with them anyway. Oh how we miss them!

So Jess called the week before Christmas to tell me that she had orchestrated a super-duper, awesomely spectacular surprise for our family. 

Yes, that is the only way to describe it (and awesomely is a word as of today). I promise. You'll see!

I still don't know who all played a part in this surprise except that I know Jess contacted friends of ours that she has never met in person as well as my sister who contacted more people, friends from college,friends who live here, friends who live all over the country,and who knows who else? It seems like almost everyone knew this surprise was coming our way before we did, which made telling people a rather humorous tale in itself.

What was it?

Four tickets to see Trans-Siberian Orchestra. Plus extra money to help with Christmas gifts (or for unexpected car repairs as the pendulum might swing).

Jaw hit the floor.

No really. My jaw hit the floor.

My family watched as I took this phone call, wondering what in the world was going on. Good thing, because someone had to pick up my jaw so I could actually speak.

I was in complete and utter shock. 

I wrote recently about some of the obstacles we have faced in recent years. If anyone knew how much our family needed a break, Jessica knew. She has walked with me through this journey every step of the way. She has prayed hard prayers with me and for me, and she has kept me focused when I felt like I was falling apart. The Lord has used her in mighty ways in my life, and to say that I am grateful for her friendship would be an understatement.

And, while Jessica orchestrated this, she didn't do it alone. Can you imagine how it might feel to have people who know you, near and far, come together to give you an outstanding blessing just because they love you? Because they know that you've been through the ringer, or maybe they don't know, but they love you and want to be a part of making your Christmas outstanding, one of the best we have ever had. I feel like those people on reality shows like Extreme Home Makeover who get their socks knocked off by the charity of others toward them.

I texted my sister and my friend Mindy immediately. Of course, they knew, and they had been waiting for me to know too. That was the tip of the iceberg. One person after another knew, and many of them participated in the blessing. 

I can't say thank you enough. I wish I could shout "thank you" to all of them, to all of you if you are reaidng this and are one of the many. 

Amazing friends, we have, and an amazing God who brought all this about in their hearts and minds. 

It has been two weeks since we attended the concert. It was even more amazing than we expected, and we are still in wonder that our friends would do this for us.

We feel loved and blessed and cared for and encouraged.

Thank you, friends, for this lovely blessing. May you be profoundly blessed in return because of it!

A Tale of Two Decembers

Christmas.

I love it.

I'm going to be totally honest here and tell the blogosphere that we came into this Christmas season flat broke, and not because we have been poor stewards or have been walking in disobedience, though there were lessons God needed to teach us through our flat-brokeness (I decided that was a word as I wrote it). My husband was working his tail off in a place that wasn't employee-friendly doing a job that he didn't love, and, when those two things combine with the fact that his job was 100% commission based, you can imagine that we've been struggling to get by. So, right before Thanksgiving, Eric took a new job. Unfortunately, the time period between the training for the job and actually starting the job and then getting paid for his first week in the field left us without a paycheck for 3 days shy of a month.

And it was Christmas.

Although in ideal circumstances, we would have chosen to save for Christmas gifts all year, we found ourselves in a position in which we had no cash, no plan, and no idea how we were going to make this Christmas great. Our kids didn't even make Christmas lists or ask for anything because they knew things weren't good. It was not the easiest thing to think about the possibility of having an empty tree, and since I don't believe for a second that God is in the business of disappointment, I decided not to think about it and to wait on a miracle. Some might say that I was in denial, but I was not. I was thoroughly and completely, totally, 100% counting on God to put gifts under our Christmas tree.

Why? Am I crazy, you ask? Well, I might be, but there was some reasoning behind my line of thinking.

Let me back up a little.

2012 was the worst year of my life. We spent 11 months (2 of those in 2011) wondering if my husband was going to prison for tax crimes he did not knowingly or willingly commit. Because of this, we were out of relationship with several family members who were, admittedly, at a loss of whose side to take, and, on top of that, Eric lost his job because he couldn't carry an insurance license in Ohio due to the tax crime issue. We had one month of part-time employment followed by a month of unemployment, but, since Eric was an independent agent, there were no unemployment checks gracing our mailbox.

That's enough to put anyone over the edge, don't you think?

That...is only part of the story.

We also spent the entire year of 2012 watching my mom's health go up and down on a roller-coaster, with each hill being a little lower than the last until she finally passed away on December 12, 2012. 14 days later, my Dad called because he couldn't breathe. He slipped into a coma and passed away three days later on December 29th.

And I don't want to forget to mention that, also in December, smack in between my parents' funerals, my father-in-law went to federal prison for the above mentioned tax crimes, a sentence from which the Lord graciously shielded Eric at the very last minute because the Lord knew His innocence.

Praise God!

Are you shaking your head yet? I bet you are. Some of you probably have had to pick your jaws off the floor. If you know us at all and have not yet heard this story, your reaction is probably very similar to everyone who has already heard it. "She has to be exagerating!" "This can't be real."

I thought those exact words many times, and there were certainly days when all I wanted to do was go to bed because there was solace and escape in sleeping.

You can imagine that there were moments when I found it hard to breathe, impossible to think, when I wasn't sure I was capable of putting my feet on the floor in the morning or crawling off the couch, but the Lord carried me through it all. Federal courtrooms, emergency rooms, weeks of hospital wards, needles, chemotherapy, visits with federal officers, that early morning phone call from Dad saying Mom was gone, and holding Daddy's hand as he breathed his final breath...

I did it, not because I am someone especially strong because what I learned about myself is that I am weak. So very, very weak. I did what I had to do because, in my opinion, there was no other choice. I would love to tell you I did it with grace, but I can't say that. There was sometimes yelling, tears, falling apart. There were words said that should not have been said to the people I love most. I did not always handle it all with grace.

I remember my entire body aching from the stress of it all, feeling like my feet literally weighed 50 pounds as I stepped into the hospital parking lot to visit with my mother as she suffered terribly.

And December was the worst month ever. December, my favorite month! The month of music and happiness and joy and lights and Jesus!!!

So, knowing that God always knows what we need, and knowing in my heart what my children needed this month, I knew there would be happiness, joy, and, yes, even gifts. Somehow, I knew God would put gifts under the tree.

And He did.

But before that, as I have said in previous posts, He gave me joy in the journey of Christmas this month. He gave my whole family joy this Christmas. There were a few rough days when we approached that December 12th anniversary, but we pushed through it. And today? Today is the December 29th anniversary, the day my daddy breathed his last. I didn't know how I would handle this day. It is the last of the days I felt like I would have to survive this year. For that, I am thankful, but I am also thankful that I am not a mess. I am not falling apart.

There is a part of me that wants to remember those moments, holding Daddy's hand, stroking his arm as he lay almost lifeless in the critical care unit.

Why?

Because God brought me through it. Because those were my last moments with my dad. Because it was a privilege to be the one at his side in that moment. An impossibly painful privilege, but a privilege, no less.

I felt God there with me even though I knew in my heart that my daddy was gone long before he stopped breathing.

Daddy loved Christmas. So did Mom.

I sometimes wonder if Christmas even registers on the radar in heaven. God definitely placed emphasis on feasts and celebration and remembrance in the Bible, so I want to think that Jesus coming to earth is something worth remembering there too. What we make of Christmas, the gifts, carols, decorations, the television specials, and the dreaded commercialization, are not things that God probably cares too much about, but there is something to be said for God caring because He knows that we care. Afterall, He cares for us, does He not?

Somewhere around mid-month, I finally had my kids make Christmas lists because, when someone asked me what they wanted, I had no idea how to answer them. None. My kids are not exposed to a lot of media advertising, and they are not by nature "I want that" kind of kids. The next day, someone else called and said, "So tell me what your kids want for Christmas."

And then she went shopping with some friends, people we don't even know!

That's right. God put gifts under our Christmas tree.

And God didn't stop there. We were given the opportunity to shop for our kids with gift cards that were given to us.

And we were given the opportunity to pay several bills, put gas in our van, and buy groceries. Remember that there was no paycheck for most of a month, and, still, our needs were met.

We even had enough to fix our very broken down van when the alternator went out.

And we were given another super-duper awesomely spectacular Christmas gift surprise which I will blog about in a seperate post because it was so great.

In the end, we spent very, very little on our kids compared to what most households spend on their children. Under our tree were things our kids needed, like pajama pants, slippers, and sweatshirts. There were also fun surprises that caused their faces to light up brighter than the tree itself.

If I really broke it all down for you, you would agree with me. God abundantly blessed us far beyond anything we could have asked or imagined. Did we need gifts under our tree?

No.

What we needed was to remember the joy of the season, not the secular "spirit of Christmas" that is regarded so highly in the movies and music of the season, but the real joy that comes in knowing that all these trees with lights and ornaments, all the houses glowing with decorations, all these community and church gatherings...they wouldn't be happening if it weren't for the Savior. He came here, to earth, for us. He didn't have to. He lived His earthly life knowing He would die a painful death for us. Can any of us truly say we have loved like that?

That is enough. Gifts under the tree don't compare to the gift in the manger and the gift on the cross.

But because God loves us so much and wanted to bless us beyond anything we imagined, because He wanted us to remember all that He has done for us, to tell His story, to share His Word, and to know beyond a shadow of a doubt that He delights in us...

He gave us this gift of Christmas presents surrounding our sparkling Christmas tree.

Because He loves us, and He wanted to give us a little extra...

Joy.

Merry Christmas, friends.

Merry, Joy-filled, Happy, Hope-filled Christmas!

25 Days of Christmas 2013: Days 20-25

December 20th: Cookie baking. We made Russian teacakes with gluten-free flour, and we couldn't tell the difference! Woot!

December 21st: We were supposed to go to Roscoe Village to the tree lighting, but, between a broken down car and torrential rain, we opted to skip it. Once the car was fixed, we took the kids to shop for each other around 8:00 that evening, and that was a blast for them!

December 22nd: Swanson/Killiany Caroling Party. Lukas played Silent Night on the guitar, and Ava sang with him.

December 23rd: Gift Wrapping. The kids wrapped gifts for each other and gifts for Eric and me. Here is a photo of Eric with the gift from the kids. Lukas did not approve of the rhythm in this photo, but Ava went ALL OUT!

December 24th: Christmas Eve service at church

December 25th: CHRISTMAS DAY!!! We used Mama's china and her holly Christmas glasses.

25 Days of Christmas 2013: December 13-19

December 13th: Dress Rehearsal

December 14th: Movie Night, Miracle on 34th Street

December 15th: An Out of the Box Christmas Performance

December 16th: Lukas' Spiritual Birthday (anniversary of the day he became a Christian). He made and decorated this cake himself!

December 17th: Craft, Victorian Crackers. They're filled with candy and are supposed to be cracked open and enjoyed on Christmas.

December 18th: Christmas Extravaganza, a night of music at church. You should have seen Ava with the hulu-hoop!

December 19th: Kids' Choice Movie

Getting to the Joy

I did not enjoy getting our Christmas decorations down from the attic. 

No I did not. 

Not that anyone enjoys the process of going into their only-visited 4x a year attic, but I didn't want the stuff in my house at all. With every box opened, my chest grew tighter. My head felt foggier. I felt grief tug at all my muscles. I couldn't decide where anything should be set. I couldn't decide if we should use anything that was my mother's. I kept thinking, "Mom loved Christmas. She loved to decorate. She wants you to decorate (yes, I talk to myself in third person), and she wants her stuff to be used by someone who will love it," but my heart wasn't in it.

At all.

"For the kids. Gotta do it for the kids."

"No. Do it for you. You need this. Do it for yourself."

It took me two days to do what normally takes less than one, and the dining room tree was still in storage. I was finally satisfied with most of the decorations. The tree, admittedly, looked beautiful in our living room, but all over the tree, the one I see every single morning as soon as I come down my stairs, the one I stare at throughout the day, is my mother. 

The Rudolph ornament set she gave to us our first Christmas, when we were still students and would have had nothing to put on a tree but strings of popcorn and cranberries.

Fred and Wilma, a brown and pink gingerbread couple with my toddler teeth marks, a hand-crafted snowman from a craft bizaar...heirlooms she chose for our tree years ago.

Pearl white nativity, porcelain nutcracker that plays real music, angel glittering gold...each year of my marriage represented by some ornament she chose especially for us.

Snowglobe with actual water, purple ballet slippers, Dora the Explorer, Peter Pan...she bought ornaments for the children each year too.

My tree, in so many ways, is her tree too, and she isn't even here to see it. It sports my "White Christmas" angel, as I call her, and my silver garland, and my Mickey Mouse ornaments and homemade child crafts, candy canes, and travel souviniers, but, when I look at it, it is just as much her as it is me. We had similar taste.

These are good things.

I added only a few things to the tree that were hers because I couldn't bear to add too much yet. 

Two plastic ornaments, one red and one gold, that my mother told me my grandmother gave to her when she got married. I remember my grandparents having the same ornaments on their own tree when I was a little girl.

One hand-painted ceramic ornament I remember Mom making when I was a little girl.

After four or five days of looking at the Christmas tree and yelling at it (only in my head), the village, the mantle dressed in red candles and stockings and candlestick holders that spell out "JOY," I decided I loved all of it.

I mixed just enough of Mama into my own favorite things.

And one week after the first tree was dressed for the season, we put the second tree in the dining room and decorated it in all it's finery. Every time I walk past the dining room, I stop to look at it. It is breathtaking. It brings me joy.

There are moments when I miss my mother profusely, and all of these Christmas decorations stirred all those feelings to the surface, but it isn't just Mom that the decorations reflect.

It's Daddy too.

They both loved Christmas.

And what would they want for me this Christmas season? 

Joy.

And I have it. 

I am living the Christmas legacy my parents left to me, and I am remembering deeper that the sweet little Christ child became a man and died so that I could live.

I know so many people who lost a parent this past year, and I pray that, no matter how hard this season is for each of us, that we remember that our loved ones want joy for us. Yes, I miss my parents so much that sometimes I physically ache, but I always have joy.

Always joy.

Choose it.