Of Anticipating Advent

The New Testament story of Simeon has long been a favorite of mine (for reasons documented here) and this Christmas season I have been blessed with the opportunity to share a devotion with a precious group of ladies whom I adore. So, of course, Simeon is on my mind and I've been working to flesh out his story and his words even more. What does it mean for Jesus to be "a light for revelation?"

As I have researched and cross-referenced, I have come across the words in Isaiah 40, which declare:
"Comfort, comfort my people, says your God.

2 Speak tenderly to Jerusalem,
    and cry to her
that her warfare[a] is ended,
    that her iniquity is pardoned,
that she has received from the Lord's hand
    double for all her sins.

3 A voice cries:[b]
“In the wilderness prepare the way of the Lord;
    make straight in the desert a highway for our God.
4 Every valley shall be lifted up,
    and every mountain and hill be made low;
the uneven ground shall become level,
    and the rough places a plain.
5 And the glory of the Lord shall be revealed,
    and all flesh shall see it together,
    for the mouth of the Lord has spoken.”"

And the glory of the Lord shall be revealed . . . made manifest, as my footnote indicates.

And Simeon, the Scripture says, is one of these who eagerly anticipated the comfort that had been declared, this glory of the Lord to be revealed.

It has often been stated that the 400 years represented by the gap between the Old Testament and the New are the "silent years" in which God did not speak to His people. Yet, as the angels appearing to Zechariah, Mary, and Joseph indicate, as the Holy Spirit speaking to Simeon that he would not die before he saw the promised One indicates, God was anything but silent during these times.

Just as He is anything but silent in our time.

We live in a time not unlike that of Simeon. His people had waited over 700 years since Isaiah spoke his prophecies declaring this Messiah - 400 years since any prophet had spoken ever. They watched their people be overthrown, tossed around by the kingdoms of this world and then come under Roman rule. Times were difficult. And these people who had been waiting and watching and praying, asked, "How much longer, Lord?!"

And here are we, 2000 years since that first fulfillment of prophecy, yet 1900 years from the last confirmed Word from God to all people. The canon was closed and God turned "silent." And the people watched. And they waited. And they prayed.

And we continue to watch. And wait. And pray. And cry out, "How much longer, Lord?!"

Yet, we do not wait without hope. We have this hope that is Christmas - this evidence of promises fulfilled. We do not know His timing, but we know He is faithful.

And that's what this season of Advent is truly about - feeling the weight of this anticipation. Of watching, and hoping, for this Savior of the world.

It's not simply finding a creative way of counting down 24 days, awaiting the presents, or the meal, or the cookies, or even the starlit wonder in the eyes of children, waking in the pre-dawn hours to unwrap what they have been anticipating.

It is a time of hope and anticipation, to truly grasp what the world felt as it waited from the dawn of time for a Savior of God's people, and for all people, everywhere, to emerge and mend what was broken. And as we live in a world that seems beyond repair, we must know what that was like. We must know this anticipation and hope. And we can see the day coming - the day that represents the birth of this Savior, this God made flesh Who came down, His glory made manifest for all people. And we can rejoice knowing, while we remain in the dark, we can unwrap this greatest gift we have been anticipating and understand, the dawn is yet to come. There is still a day coming.

But it will come. Let us wait with wonder.

Of Her Snow List

One of the beauties of having grandparents who live further north is that our precious daughter has no concept of a Christmas that's not white (and, for that matter, she has very few memories of snow that are not associated with the holiday - which has led her to believe that snow=Christmas).  And in her short years on this earth, she has developed a rather precise list of the activities which must occur whilst enjoying one's white Christmas.

Therefore, when next presented with snow (after getting over the fact that you will not, in fact, be receiving presents because it is not, in fact, Christmas day), you should know, it is absolutely necessary to make snow angels, throw snowballs and build a snowman (and she still believes Easter egg eyes are the norm on this one, because it's all Mom could come up with during the rare Oklahoma blizzard two years ago - when she was TWO - this girl forgets nothing).

A possible addition to the list after her experience this year (though, I recall, it was not her first, so maybe it's not a favorite): sledding.  Then again, she might just pronounce this as an unrealistic expectation for the future, as she knows full-well Aunt Dia broke the pink sled.  And we all know, if you don't have a pink sled, it's just not worth it.

In any matter, after enjoying a few warm days inside while visiting Gram and Grandy this December (and after many, many pleadings, from the moment we crossed the Nebraska border), we all gave in, bundled her and her brothers up (Joseph only just enough for the obligatory "first snow" photos) and tromped out to the growing layers of white crystals.

After being pulled on the sled for a few circles around the yard (due to lack of hills within Gram and Grandy's fence - don't worry, we visited one of those later in the week), she stood up and declared it was time for snowballs.  Thus, she found fistfuls of powder (it had not enough time/moisture to become snowball ready, but this fact is of no importance to a four-year-old) and tossed them at Mom and Dad, giggling like a wild-woman the whole time.

Of course, we fought back - as is absolutely necessary.

When snowballs were concluded (after about two minutes), it was snow angel time. So, she and I laid ourselves in the cold wet, spread our arms and legs and completed the second item on her list (with a few tears on her side, due to the wild nature of her flailing and the ensuing snow shower on her face).

As the snow was shaken off, Micaiah declared, "Now we make a snowman."

Check.

Again, the precipitation was not so conducive to proper packing, so we ended up with more of a mound than a man, but the grapes and carrot from Gram made a suitable face just the same (sadly, no plastic eggs were involved).

We then snapped a few family photos with Frosty.

And with that, she was done.

Ready to go inside and warm up.

Meanwhile, her oldest brother, mittened fingers gripping the handles, would have been content to continue with rides on the bright orange sled (note: the one not broken a couple of days later) well into darkness, though we hardly allowed it considering the rest of us were perfectly fine with completing Micaiah's checklist and retreating into the warmth of the house.

He, apparently, is much more of a free spirit than the rest of us.

1,000 Gifts:
1068. A new year to count new gifts
1069. Snowflakes on the tongue

1070. A carton of ice cream and Netflix on a hormonal afternoon
1071. Saturating my memory with Scripture
1072. A few days to relax in the midst of travels
1073. Tiny locks of fine baby hair falling to the floor, and a mullet gone

Of Christmas Traditions

I am a big fan of traditions.  I like starting them and I like continuing them.  With every passing year, I treasure the repetitious rituals - it's what makes a holiday feel "right" to me.

For Christmas, one of my favored activities growing up (admittedly, I think I was the only child who enjoyed this - or maybe my brother's complete disdain overshadowed my sister's shared joy, I can't be sure), was looking at Christmas lights.  Every year, typically after the Christmas Eve service, my family would load up in the van, head to Sonic for milkshakes (because there's nothing like a cold treat while bundling up from the cold . . . apparently) and cruise the neighborhoods, admiring or critiquing the handiwork of others.

Thus, I have been eager to continue the tradition with our own little ones and have been pushing this for the past week.  And tonight was the night.

I prepped myself for the dreamy image in my head of a blissful family evening to go quickly awry - it always seems to with toddlers.  For our two big kids, who are accustomed to watching a dvd during any trip longer than five minutes, I was particularly concerned.

Apparently, though, Harry Connick, Jr. crooning "Frosty the Snowman" is the exact ingredient required to distract children from the lack of animated characters on the screen before them and entice them to gaze out the windows at the colored, blinking lights.  Either that or the "oohs" and "aahs" were simply sympathy admiration given in an attempt to match their mother's exuberance.  Either way, I'll take it.

The cries of, "Look, it's the Mommy purple reindeer and the Daddy purple riendeer!" and "It's Santa!  He's real and he's looking in our car!" were joy to a Momma's heart (for just one night, I didn't even feel the need to correct him).

And, yes, this evening of family togetherness was brought to you by Sonic, who, as always, provided the snacks.

Coupled with the spontaneous caroling at the dinner table for the past couple of nights (our children are loving "Rudolph, the Red-Nosed Reindeer") and I would say it's beginning to look a lot like Christmas.

1,000 Gifts:
1063. Family traditions
1064. Lights on the street reminding us of the Light of the world
1065. "Good-bye, Puppy!  Have a special day!" said Emmett
1066. An evening of frustration ending with everything working as it should
1067. Plans, all asunder, falling back into place

Of Pausing to Remember

While meandering through my day, I stumbled upon this little video posted to Facebook:


Watching sent shivers through my skin and, eventually, brought tears streaming down my face.  And I felt absolutely ridiculous - crying at a crowd of people singing in the mall?  Really?

I could not peg down what was so emotional for me in this display.

"Because this is how it should be."

I felt the words in my soul and knew them to be true. It was for this we were created.  To bring glory to God in all places, among all people.  Not to restrain our chorus to the church pew or the kitchen counter (where I am most found singing in our home, if at all), but to declare Him to the world in every situation in every way.

This is how it should be.

His people.  And those who don't even recognize Him as Lord.  Stopping to acknowledge His name.  Pausing our busy lives to worship, right where we are.

Oh that I would be so bold.

Of Becoming a (Little) Man

A sight to see around our house lately is our little two-year-old coming into his own.  Where once he parroted his sister and then began mimicking her words with his own twist, he has now branched out completely.  He has his own thoughts, ideas and desires.  And he is not so bad at expressing them.

The concept of a talks-a-lot big sister not letting her little brother speak for himself?  Not for this guy.  He'll shout to be heard.  Literally.

In addition, this little guy is all boy.  While, yes, he still asks to wear his sissy's headbands or colors with the pink crayon, we also find ourselves saying (much more than we ever have to with our little girl), "No hitting!"  Because hitting, pushing and kicking are just his ways of playing, conveying frustration and being an annoying little brother.

Don't get me wrong, he is also very loving - willing to share his chocolate with me when I ask or putting his arm around his sister at dinner or giving his little brother just-because kisses or snuggling with Daddy during TV time.  He definitely has a sweet streak - it just sometimes gets out-shone by his ornery side.

It's such a pleasure to watch him grow and realize he truly is becoming a little man.  Oh that we would raise him right.

1,000 Gifts:
1052. Duck, Duck, Goose with six adults (four of which are 50 or older), a pre-schooler, a toddler and an infant
1053. Extended weekends
1054. A kitchen built for entertaining
1055. Beautiful Thanksgiving weather
1056. The smell of fall in the air
1057. Family traditions

Thanksgiving Weekend:
Playing outside with Grandpa - Joey's first time in the tree house.  I love how it looks like the brothers are conspiring.

This is how we found them when Mom and I returned from our laidback version of Black Friday shopping.

Bowling for the first time.  They loved pushing the ball down the slide.

They even both beat Daddy the first game (then again, he didn't have the aid of bumpers).

Love tiny bowling shoes.

Tickles from Grandpa.

So proud of him for branching out and trying something new at Pops. The fact that it was mock Russian makes it that much better.

Getting Duck, Duck, Goose instructions.

Love her giggles.

Iconic Pops photos

Loved our family time.

Sights of the Season:
We open one Christmas-related book or movie every day of December leading up to Christmas.  Love seeing these under my tree!

Joey's "First Christmas" ornament - perfect!

Of Getting Out the Tree

This evening as we jumped the gun on our Christmas decorating, it seemed as though the amount of involvement by various members of the family has truly grown exponentially.  While last year we had an excited, but still not really understanding, three-year-old and a brand-new toddler who wasn't interested in much more than crawling around the greenery, this year brought an exuberant four-year-old with a plan and a penchant for hanging ornaments (our tree actually lacks the clustered effect one might expect by the decorating abilities of two children under the age of five), and a two-year-old who could not wait for it to be his turn with every new piece of memorabilia adorning the branches.  I mean, he was into this thing - much more so than I believe his sister was even last year.

Of course, there was also the little crawler who was relegated to his spot in the corner, just watching the action, but when he was let loose, he was ecstatic by all the glimmer and flair.  With a ten-month-old opening gifts next month, I think this will be, by far, the most fun first Christmas in our family.

In any event, I'll declare this season gets more fun with every passing year.

1,000 Gifts:
1037. Two kids bent in the dirt
1038. The two of them, working together, to rip open a letter from their cousin
1039. Chicken on the bone
1040. Memories hung on a tree
1041. The little guy, standing in his crib
1042. How excited they get to see their little brother
1043. How thrilled he gets to crawl after them

Of a Few Final Gifts

Today, our family celebrated a vague rendition of Three Kings Day - which really had none of the aspects I had originally hoped for, other than opening presents.  But it was a good day nonetheless.  Watching our children, bathed in morning light, enjoy the few remaining presents (a couple from us and those which arrived via postal service from my family in the weeks surrounding Christmas) residing under our tree, and taking the time to be slow and extract each toy from its packaging as it was opened, giving them something to do as they waited for everyone else, was quite enjoyable.

It was also interesting noting their differences in attitude and/or age as Micaiah, throughout the day, took the time to play with each individual gift - moving from one to the other and back again until every toy had been thoroughly explored.  Meanwhile, Emmett spent a few seconds with his newly acquired playthings before resorting to old favorites (or trying to hijack sissy's toys - another favorite activity of his).

Either way, enjoying the child-like simplicity of "Christmas" morning for one final time of the season was the best gift of all.

A few favorite photos of the morning:

Of Child-Like Celebration

We enjoyed a small and simple Christmas Eve service this evening at the church my father-in-law pastors. By way of Christmas Eve services, I would say it was just what we needed. Of course, you don't have to take my word for it. You could tell it was just right when our little 18-month-old on the second row spent the whole service dancing in his seat to the congregation's renditions of well-known Christmas carols. The end of every song was also punctuated with his enthusiastic, "Yay!" I feel it was a very appropriate celebration of the Baby we all came to worship. (Appropriate and adorable.) The ride home was filled with its own festive vibe as Micaiah led everyone in a rousing chorus of Jingle Bells. After a couple of rounds of the only carol she knows, she insisted we carry on with our own songs as she continued on with hers. And so it went - faltering versions of "Deck the Halls", "We Wish You a Merry Christmas", "Rudolph, the Red-Nosed Reindeer" and, finally, all twelve days of Christmas, all rang through Gram & Grandy's van with a background singer happily belting Jingle Bells. Certainly doesn't get any merrier than that.

Of a Not-So-White Christmas

A couple of weeks ago, when I mentioned the holiday for some reason or other, Micaiah declared, "It's not Christmas; it's not snowing!". This was the point at which I realized an unrealistic precedent has been established in her life. For all the Christmases she is likely to remember (ie, the past two years), she has enjoyed a white Christmas. Having grandparents who live a little further north than Oklahoma has done well to increase the likelihood of this occurance for her. This year, however, the Midwest, in general, has experienced considerably less wintry precipitation than in previous years (thus far), and I fear she will learn the bitter truth - Christmas and snow are not always a packaged deal. It's sad she must learn the truth so early in life, but better to be disillusioned young than to allow oneself to become too cozy in a false assumption, right? It's kind of like ripping off a Band-Aid. Here's hoping this latest revelation comes about with few tears. I'm thinking the presents will help to ease the pain.

Of Charlie Brown

After bath-time tonight, we cuddled with kids in footie p.j.'s, inhaling the soft scent of baby shampoo, and enjoyed A Charlie Brown Christmas.  While Micaiah was upset any time Charlie, himself, wasn't on the screen, Emmett's sole purpose in sitting still for (most of) the film was so he could identify Snoopy whenever he made his appearance.  Emmett did so by excitedly yelling, "Puppy!" each time the little white dog showed up.

The downside to this classic is that the beautiful message of the movie is relegated to the very end - which works by way of any typical plot-line, but unfortunately that puts the meaning of Christmas at just past our children's attention span.

Ah well, there's always next year.

Of Our Cookie Factory

Because we had yet to do so this year, our family spent the evening creating sugar cookies, with the help of Aunt Dia and one of the young ladies I disciple through our youth group.  And those girls, along with our kids, were cookie-making machines.  Here's what was going on in our dining room tonight:

 Dayla and Emmett made one cookie-making team, while Krista and Micaiah formed the other.  Both did exemplary jobs.

Sometimes Emmett's fingers decided they wanted to leave a lasting mark.

 He had fun!  And, don't worry, none of that snot made it into the cookies - at least not that we know of.

 She was awesome at getting the job done.

 Icing!

She and Daddy made a couple of amazing cookies together!

Of Christmas - the "Right" Way

I've struggled for the past couple of years, as the weight of the responsibility, as mother and wife, for such decisions has really begun to press upon me, with how to celebrate Christmas the "right" way.  What traditions will we take on?  What customs will we skip?  How do we really impress upon our children, and ourselves, the true significance of our celebration?

I know it sounds empty in our culture today to say I'm sick of the commercialism of the holiday.  For we hear that everywhere and yet under the trees of all of us who say that are still a plethora of wrapped packages.  Our stockings are still hung by the fireplace with care and our children still ooh and aah over the blinking lights on the tree and on their brand new toys.

But I just don't know what to do these days.

I am not opposed to gifts - only because that's my love language and I do like an excuse to show others I care by giving them that just right wrapped something, not because I feel I have to or because I desire something in return.  But is making the giving (and receiving) the focus of this "Holy Night" really the right thing to do?  Clearly not.

I am also not opposed to not doing gifts - in fact, at times I feel I'd really prefer it.  But that is not my decision to make alone and I refuse to be the Gift Nazi - "No gifts for you!"

So, what do I do.  How do I do it right?


I realized just today that this Christmas season isn't about a "right" or "wrong" way of doing things.  It's not about guilt.  It's about worship.

And learning how to "do Christmas" the right way should be no different than working out how we do our lives.  Because, as Christians, aren't we to be in constant reminder of Who Christ is - allowing Him to reign supreme, especially over the worldliness that ever threatens to take over?  Not just at Christmas, when we ponder His birth, or at Easter, as we appreciate the sacrifice, but in all things, at all times (Colossians 3:17).

This struggle between the worldly and the Divine is not just a December dilemma.  Or, at least, it shouldn't be.

So, here's my answer, for now.  We will worship Christ always.

This Christmas season, as with those past, and those to come, I am learning so much about Christ and His purpose on this Earth.  And this learning, this focus on our Savior, will always be my greatest joy at Christmas.  We will spend time with family, we will give tokens of our love, but never to extravagance or to the extent of breeding greed.  We will sing carols - both "Jingle Bells" and "Silent Night."  We will delight with child-like wonder at the joys the season brings, but we will not allow the simple joys to be swallowed by the worldly gimmicks or glimmer.

And, always, we will worship.

Of Blue's Clues

As a new tradition this year (thank you, Pinterest), we have wrapped all of our Christmas children's books (and a few movies) and the kids get to open one every day until Christmas.  They love taking turns between being the one to open the book or place the small wooden ornament on the felt wreath as a part of the advent calendar my mother-in-law made for Philip years ago.

Tonight was Emmett's turn to unwrap the story (this has also been wonderful practice to be sure he's ready for the big day at the end of the month - he totally has this process down!).  However, he seemed less interested in his tale of the Nativity than in the Blue's Clues storybook he hijacked from my box of books waiting to be prepped for the shelves of the church library.

Rather than eagerly seeking a green-wrapped present under the tree, he sat next to his pilfered tale, pointing to the blue dog on its pages, declaring, "Boo-Boo!" (that's as close as he gets to pronouncing the title of his apparent favorite show - thank you, Netflix).  Then, he would bob back and forth singing proudly, "Boo be boo be Boo-Boo!" to the correct tune of the show's theme song.  He may have some work to do on his lyrical presentation, but this boy can definitely sing a distinct melody (he also has "Twinkle Twinkle, Little Star" down quite nicely - so much so that his sister starts to sing along when he starts babbling the tune).

Our children definitely earn their musical talent from their father (rather than their musically-declined mother).

Of the Season

I teared up in the car today hearing the lyrics, "Simply having a wonderful Christmas time!"  I suddenly realized, with Thanksgiving behind us, Christmas time is, indeed, upon us.  It may have been because lack of travel caused Thanksgiving to, somehow, feel less like Thanksgiving, but either way, despite the months of seasonal tunes playing on retailer's airwaves or displays of evergreens in the aisles, the actual dawn of the Christmas season did not truly register until the melody of that first Christmas song emitted from the car stereo.  'Tis the season.

Accordingly, after the children awoke from their naps, Daddy pulled the Christmas tree and other seasonal décor from the attic and we went to town.  Micaiah and Emmett both helped decorate the tree this year and, with the help of the 24-hour ornament-emergency doctor we have on call, only one confetti-filled ball suffered irreparable damage (of course, it was one I was not sad to see break - do you think I'd really let them hold any other kind?).

While Micaiah's excitement at hanging ornaments of various shapes and sizes from the branches of our tree was to be expected, I was actually surprised at how eager our independent little boy was to take non-breakable ornaments from us to place on the tree.  Of course, the hooks were still a little complicated for him, but that did not stop him from trying to nestle his treasures among the lowest-hanging boughs.

The season definitely continues to get more interesting as our children grow older.

Of Making Traditions

One of my favorite things about having a family of my own: getting to make new traditions.  I love it when my husband and I decide to make homemade pretzels, knowing that someday our children will reminisce about days like these (assuming, you know, we're still making pretzels by the time they're at an age they'll remember).  I love spontaneously making monkey bread or donuts for Saturday morning breakfast - it's little moments like these that are the most cherished.

And I love that with the holidays come new opportunities for us to establish how our family will celebrate.

We decided before Micaiah's first Christmas that the only gift our children would receive each year from Santa Claus would be a book - because I love to read and I hope our children will, too.  Also, they will receive every Christmas Eve pajamas for them to wake up in on Christmas morning.  I always begged EVERY year to get to open just one gift on Christmas Eve and was never allowed.  So now that I'm in charge - my kids will get to do what I never did.  Even if it's just pajamas, I hope they'll enjoy this custom.

This year marks the beginning of a new tradition that I truly believe will come to be very special for our family.  Recognizing that we love to spend time with family and will, therefore, rarely ever spend a holiday apart from any extended family, we've come up with a way to have our cake and eat it, too - to be able to enjoy Christmas with family, but then also have our own distinctive celebration with just us.

We will be incorporating the tradition already implemented in various cultures world-wide of celebrating Epiphany- known as Three Kings Day in Spain and other Latin cultures - which commemorates the day the Wise Men actually visited the Baby Jesus, representing the revelation to the Gentiles (as non-Jewish people) of God's Son.  Thus, on the Saturday after New Years we will have our own family celebration.  Borrowing ideas from various friends our children will receive only three gifts, so as to represent the three gifts given to Jesus by the Wise Men: one Spiritual, one practical and one frivolous.  Who knows, I may even break out the culinary skills and bake us a little Rosca de Reyes!

I look forward to the years ahead when our children have a special tradition that's just ours - teeming with meaning and a little bit of culture, too.

Of Being Early

I used to be a Nazi about the timing of Christmas décor and other Seasonal signals.  Christmas music of any sort was not to begin playing until the day after Thanksgiving and not one ornament should be seen in any store or home before that time, either.  I grew peeved with the retail world apparently not owning calendars of any sort and skipping directly from shelves filled with witch's costumes and an overabundance of orange and black candy packages to those overflowing with stockings, garland and green and red M&M's.  What happened to Thanksgiving?!  This was madness!

And now, owning a home of my own, I have entered into this crazy world of desiring to be surrounded by the Christmas spirit as early as possible.  I told my husband I wanted to put up our tree on November 1st, but he demurred quite successfully for awhile.   I, too, admitted that it seemed a tad early and, being the Coca-Cola thermometer (which only recently replaced the Jack Daniels remnant from the previous owners) still read in the mid-seventies, the winter effect which tends to bring about the Christmas mood was hardly a factor.

Until today.  Today, with a chill in the air and ornaments on my table (décor I recently put together for a Holiday show promoting my Pampered Chef business), I decided I was really ready.

So, yes, there's a tree in my living room, all decked out with meaningful ornaments from our life together thus far.  There are stockings hung from the mantle (although still missing one, we haven't found the perfect design for our little man as of yet), wreaths in our entryway and various nativity scenes grace our entertainment center.  Our home wreaks of Christmas spirit.  And I love it.  I love everything this season represents and I like to cling to the visual reminders for as long as possible.

So all you Grinches out there step off.  Yeah, I said it.

PS One of many favorite moments of the day: reading Micaiah the Story of Christmas while acting it out with her Little People Nativity from Gram and Grandy.  Seeing her tiny hands placing the wise men in their spot on her dresser so as to properly give adoration to the baby Jesus: priceless.