A magical Christmas...



I can hardly find the words to describe this Christmas. I guess that's why I take so many photos...

 

 

magical.

healing.

challenging.

precious.

life giving.

redeeming.

joyful.

nostalgic.

sad.

calm.

all of these things.

 

 

My dad came into town, and we put him back on the plane today and I miss him.

 

Things I will never forget...

 

egg 'n a hole.

watching my dad interact with my daughter like he did with me...

the prayer you said at dinner, Grace.

 

"Dear God, thank you for Christmas...thank you for Jesus, and happy birthday Jesus. Thank you for everything, Amen."

 

If those weren't all the words my darling, they were the ones I remembered and you had me in tears. You still do, I'm still thinking about it.

 

Renting a car for just a ride to the Riverwalk.

 

Our sparkling delicious gorgeous dinner Christmas Eve...

 

The way my husband woke me up to a Merry Christmas, like a kid.

 

Falling asleep with you, Grace, while reading the story of the birth of Jesus. Watching your eyes wide and your heart open and your spirit in awe...listening about Mary giving birth in the stable...I will never forget the way you just slowly melted into me, tucked into your new sleeping bag and off to sleep you went. Peaceful, just as I pray you do every night of your precious life.

 

This Christmas was the best yet. My art has shown up on random doorsteps with a Merry Christmas and a pass it on...and my heart is warmed by all the joy and love around me.

 

I never want to forget it. 

 



an update on mothering,and picking the acorns.

 

A while ago, I wrote about a revelation I had about motherhood. I cringe at my own tortured voice. Truth be told, I really don't write as the holy spirit prompts because I hate my own voice. I hate the torture and guilt and worthlessness in my own voice. But in my own struggle with measuring up in this world, I have found beauty in that voice. The one I hate to revisit.

 

 

Let it be a testimony to the goodness and faithfullness of God.

 

Lately God has been speaking to me, showing me about my own style of mothering. My husband and I decided before we ever knew we wanted children that I would stay at home with them. I just knew in my own heart that I wanted their childhood to look nothing like mine. And the part that has been torturing me so, is the part where I feel my time is more quantity than valuable. Sometimes I just feel like I am here, but what am I doing? Am I making the most of every moment? Am I doing what I am supposed to do? Am I ?? Am I? Am I????

 

Oh goodness, I think that inner voice just kills. It just destroys my day. Comparing myself to you and your day, comparing my strengths to you and yours...its all life killing stealing and I succumb to it all to often.

 

I don't always enjoy playing with my girls. I will say it. And I have said it before. Its not that I dont enjoy them, its that I feel like there is something else to be done. I sometimes I am selfish, I would rather be sipping a cup of coffee, turning up the worship music and painting. Or sometimes I would rather be writing. Or sometimes I would rather be cleaning my house. But I have been taking the time to, on purpose, just spend a whole chunk of my day doing whatever they want. Lately, we have been making lunch and enjoying it on the driveway and picking acorns and playing with chalk. And in these precious moments God just whispers a smile and an "its okay". And somedays we leave the house to go to the park for hours and I dont check the phone or go over the mental "list". And I have found so much freedom in that. He just keeps telling me, its ok!

 

I guess somewhere there is a fear that I am missing out on something or something should be going on or I should be doing something, but he just reminds me, that hes working for me. Behind the scenes. Behind those moments. The moments when I chose to just enjoy my girls and its all okay...because he says so. There is value in being right where he puts me. Whether that looks like a day full of checks off the list or just being with my girls doing what they want to do.

 

 

I have found peace in mothering because he has given it to me. Handed it to me, in a beautiful package that looks nothing like yours. My day, looks nothing like yours. But I am here. I don't always put their desires first but I am here. Sometimes I get an order and I have to start and finish it very quick, but I have learned to let my girls be a part of our business here at home. And they love it. If I need to paint, they paint. And that makes me happy and them happy. If we are running late because I am calming her down from a nightmare, I am praising God that he lets me do that. He allows me to be here. And he knows my heart, that I couldnt possibly handle it if I werent here. I dont want to be anywhere else. The other day, Grace had an incident at school where she got sick and had to come home. I was pretty much in tears the whole way there just thanking God that he has allowed me to stay home with them and be there for these moments. The moments when I can drop everything and just be there, for them. This is why we sacrifice. This is why I make the choice. I want to be here. I want to be available.

 

 

So I am still working on letting myself enjoy this. I still am a task kinda gal, the one who likes to get things done and fill my day with chores and to dos...but I am working on just letting go a little and spending moments with them that I wont ever get back. And I realize that now. And if in the past, I have spoken about how I don't really connect with Grace, or if I am trying to defend why I stay at home with my children, or if I am lying to myself about what the priorities are in life and how they don't look like yours...its all just my tortured voice. The part of me who never feels like I am good enough or doing the right thing...its all because I never saw the value in what God has me going through right now. The value of just taking a moment in my day to stop doing and just be. Just sit with him and be joyful. Just pick the acorns. Because its ok.

 

 

"numbered days"

I have been deeply affected, deeply moved and broken to the very core of my soul for the mothers and fathers and brothers and sisters of those beautiful children who died tragically in the school shooting in CT. And when tragedy hits, I feel like nothing else matters. I put down the to do list, I forget about my dirty floors and the errands I need to run and the bills I need to pay and just none of it matters. I cry, I am angry with satan, I am broken and I am hopeful all in the same sweet breath. I want to go to CT and hold every mother and cry with her. I want to scream when she screams, and then I want sit and hear all the beautiful things about her daughter and I want to look at every single piece of art she made that year and I want to sit in her room and fall asleep holding her blanket, and assure her that I will never forget her.

Because if it were me, I would want to sit for 10 days right there, in that same spot and not let go of that moment. The moment where she was right there. And it is hard for me as a mother, a child of God, to understand how anything could happen like this. How could a life be taken. One moment you are making waffles and packing a lunch and sending off your little one to learn the alphabet, and the next you are hearing that you will never see her again, on earth. And all I hear is the people around me looking for something, just something to cling onto during this time.

And then God spoke Psalm 139 to me.


Your eyes saw my unformed body;
all the days ordained for me were written in your book
before one of them came to be.
 How precious to me are your thoughts,God!
How vast is the sum of them!
Were I to count them,
they would outnumber the grains of sand
when I awake, I am still with you.


How precious to know that our days our numbered...

He knew us when, he knows us now and every single moment is in his hands. Just this week I had to face my own fears of opening my hands with my children. Just one day before the shooting I told a friend of mine that I needed to let go of them, release my tight grip. Because holding on so tight somehow translates to a false sense of security to me. And what a burden it is to carry that I am the one in charge of their well being.

I was inspired to make some art this week. I saw it in my head and just wanted it to be a daily reminder for whoever makes this piece a part of their home, that their days are numbered. God knows and is in control. There is peace and freedom knowing that each of our lives are special to him and his hand is all over it. There is nothing that surprises him, he is the creator. If anything, the fragility of life has now taught me that every second matters. Every second here is a gift.

And each moment should be spent in gratitude and love.

 

 

****** this is a great song to just sit and take a moment to let him in and let him love you. I have definitly played this song over and over again this week. Oh how he loves us...

well, I did it again...

 

 

I asked you all to not let me do it, but I did. I just cant have long hair. I don't know what it is but I just don't feel like me. Like it fits me. And for those of you who have ever tried to do something and it just didn't seem to fit, you know what I mean. First of all, I am not ultra girly in a real outward way. I am on the inside. I am very sensitive and my heart is basically mush. I cry every single day and I am very passionate from here to the moon. But on the outside, it really just is about functionality. Truth be told, I don't ever wear makeup. And I have a steady uniform of white tshirts and black yoga pants and that's ok with me. I am ok with me. I like to workout and I like to work and constantly putting my hair up was getting quite annoying. I tend to always choose the simplest way to do things, and my life is so busy I don't have an hour to devote to putting myself together in the morning. (For all you wavy, frizzy, thin haired girls you know what I mean....

 

But the flip side...my husband loves long hair. And I try to explain to him that I don't have thick luscious Kim Kardashian hair that just lays their and looks fabulous. Nope, not me. So as soon as I can wake up to a stylist everyday, this is it. And he was just so sick of me talking about doing it that he just told me to do it already. So here it is.

 

I am ok with me.

sidewalk chalk art

 

 

every once in a while I need to remind myself to just let go and have fun.

I am so overwhelmed with the fact that my 4 year old has a matter of months

at home with me until she will enter school full time.

I just am not ready to let her go, and I don't think my

job is done yet here. I don't want to regret this time that is such a

gift to me. Some days this responsibility is just so heavy on my heart in

such a good way...

I am anxious for the new season in our life, but right now I

will do the best I can to enjoy and live in this moment.

I think the best way for us as parents to give our kids the gift of joy is to be joyful ourselves...

so I think its a good idea to do things I enjoy too.

Today we made some street art.

And we are full of chalk and memories...

I love watching and stirring creative minds.

I had fun today, Grace.

And Lucy, thanks for drawing all over my art. ;)