The Eve of the Eve

The gingerbread house has been made. 

Presents are wrapped and waiting under the tree.

 Santa has been seen.

Our downtown Riverwalk date has been had.

Egg nog has been consumed.

 

The youth group party I planned is over and done.

 

My poinsettia costume has been worn.

 

Christmas cards were mailed and received by others.

75% of all the good Christmas movies have been watched.  

And Jacob has de-ornamented the tree infinity times.

 

Cookies have been baked - and boys covered with flour.

 

Holiday parties were missed.

Tears have been cried.  Aches have been ached.  Laughs have been laughed.

 

Christmastime is here again.  A very, very merry one to you.

 

December Tears

I cried today for the umpteenth time this month. 

I cried because I wanted to make the dinner I had planned, but I was so exhausted that I accidentally fell asleep while taking a few moments of quiet in my room to wake up and find that, hello - it's 7:00pm. 

I cried because the box I've had packed with goodies for my Auntie is still sitting in my room and it's almost Christmas and it was supposed to be a gift for fall and I feel like I've let her down.

I cried because I started the laundry and didn't finish and this only creates more work, because I have to re-dry all the shirts that need fluffing so I don't hang them up wrinkly and unwearable.  I cried because wrinkly shirts and unfinished laundry make me feel like I can't keep up.

I cried because I can't keep up.

I cried because Jacob needed me to hold him and rock him to sleep.  And I cried because I want to enjoy it.  And I don't always enjoy it. And they always say enjoy every moment because they're not this small forever.

I cried because I don't want him to be small anymore.  And I cried because it hurts to be that honest about my baby boy.

I cried because of the guilt, because of my tiredness, because it's just damn hard to be a working mother of two right now.

I cried because I realized we don't have childcare for a party we were hoping to attend on Saturday and now we can't go.  I cried because small disappointments feel like very large ones for some reason right now. 

I cried because I feel like I'm sinking and failing at everything and everyone that I really care about it.  My husband, my boys, my friends, my family....

I cried because I'm not in North Dakota.  It makes me sad to think of all that could have been  - and even with temperatures in the negatives and all the snow, I've realized how much I never grieved what we lost in our dream that ended so abruptly.

I cried because it's December and I want to be enjoying it and dancing through my holiday season covered in flour and wrapping paper and going about my Christmasy ways.  Yet I'm just feeling disconnected and lost. 
 
I cried because I feel like a failure.  Because I feel guilty.  Because I feel stressed.  Because it's my favorite season of the year and I'm crying through it because I'm not liking this version of me right now, nor am I liking this season of life much either.

I cried because words like guilt and failure aren't words that should be floating around during the holidays.  Not now, not in December.  Not with twinkle lights and Christmas cheer and egg nog and merry-making and Hallmark movies where everyone gets a happy ending and a white Christmas and a miracle. 

I cried because it's December.  Because I'm struggling.  Because I'm just trying to get by and get through and it feels so very discouraging to be here.

I cried because I'm ready for a January.  And I am never, ever wanting for a January.

Not the path....

Maybe it's not the path that matters.  Not the one I'm on or searching for or hoping to find.  It isn't even about the journey as many might say it is.  It's not about what I'm doing or how I'm doing it, though I've made it about that. 

It's Him.  All for Him, all about Him, all in Him.

And on a drive home Tuesday evening, the first clear and sunny sky in two weeks, God's abrupt reminder was ever present.  When I could barely see the road in front of me because the sun was so bright off of the pavement.  That's when it hit me - as the sun almost painfully glared into my eyes.

When His glory and brightness are so much that I can't see the path in front of me.  Just the light.  Just Him.

That.  That's what matters.

Junk Drawers

I never quite understood how junk drawers happen.  Somehow they fill up again and again - always in the kitchen.  They always start off being useful though.  Like oh, that's where we keep the batteries for Tommy's 327 toys that require them to come in all shapes and sizes.

You keep scissors and tape there for things that need cutting and putting back together again.  Pens for writing.  And then the other things build.  Random coupons.  Nails and tacks.  Grocery lists.  Receipts that you don't need to keep but you keep in the off chance you need them.  Straws.  And we always think the thermometer is in there but it never is, yet we look there first anyway.

Every time I open it up, I get frustrated as I scrounge around looking for what I can't ever find and go on my way.  The junk drawer rarely gets organized or un-junked.  And often times, it becomes so cluttered that I can barely close it.

I noticed the same thing recently with my heart.  I've been suffering from some pretty frustrating bouts of insomnia for the last few months that has gotten increasingly worse.  I'll wake up and not be able to go back to sleep - even after getting up to read or pray.  My lack of sleep has exhausted me on top of the schedule I'm keeping between work and home and motherhood.

But the insomnia is just a symptom of something deeper.  One sleepless night I wrote out all that was swirling in my mind at the time and I filled up nearly four pages in my journal.  And after surveying the junk, I decided it was time to do something about it.

Last Friday I made a long and familiar drive up to the hill country about 45 minutes away and sat on the coach across from a woman who has held pieces of my story.  It's been a couple of years since I've seen her, but walking in the door, I was reminded that I needed this.  I need help, I need to take care of myself, I need someone to walk through parts of my life and story that I simply can't do on my own.

No more shutting out the clutter and pretending it's not there.  No more adding to it without deciding if it needs to be added to the other existing junk carelessly.  The same can't be said of my junk drawer currently, but I am on the road to de-cluttering the mess in my very full heart.

Deck the shelves!

I know the song says "Deck the halls...," but as I was looking around my living room on Sunday afternoon, it occured to me that I deck out my shelves.  This time of year they are full of Christmasy trinkets and pine branches and berries and angels and well, my halls don't know much of Christmas.  But my shelves.  Oh my shelves are decorated to the max.

 Shelf #1: Dining room

 Shelf #2:  Kitchen

 Shelf #3:  Living room

 Shelf #4: Living room

 Shelf #5:  Living room....still

 Shelf #6:  Last of the living room

Clealry, I'm a shelf-aholic.

This however, sits on the end table by our couches.  In the past, I've hung this on the wall with a collage of other things, but I wanted it to be more of a focal point this year.  It's easy for me to get lost in cards and cookies and presents and Hallmark movies and I forget that all this is about Him.

My halls may be lacking, but my shelves are ready. 

More importantly, so is my tree.  I not only surrendered to the burlap trend, but moreso, I surrendered to burlap chevron printed ribbon for my tree.  I usually take a while to jump on board with trends - especially when it comes to trends for home decor.  (Such as burlap anything and the chevron print on everything - both very popular movements.)  But, I decided to be like everyone else on Pinterest and give in to my burlap and chevron desires. It's more rustic and earthy this year and I really do love how it turned out.

Happy decorating to you too.  May your shelves be full and may the burlap you wrap around the bottom of your tree not get over your clothes.

Giving Thanks: 2013 Edition

It really is amazing to me how much our hearts can hold all at once.  The feelings, the stories, the memories, the hopes, and hurts.  And it’s from there that God wants us to love Him. 

As we sat around our living room Thanksgiving evening, I looked around at the faces of my family.  My heart recognized those who were missing, those gone, those home sick, some who seemed only half-present or ready to leave.  It felt like a room full of my deepest longings, my greatest joys, my deepest wounds, and a few of my grandest stories of redemption. 

There was much for my heart to take in that day.  Missing my mother.  Holding my husband’s heart who still grieves what was lost with our almost-move to North Dakota.  Those missing from our celebration.  Words that were shared, some in tears.  My Robin’s horrible back issues and my dad’s loving words for her.  Places where I’m feeling rejected or not enough or even too much.  My sister's words of gratitude for my presence in her life.  And my “crazy” baby crawling over me because I’m the only one he wants it seems. 

There was much I wanted to say, but it’s hard to know how when your heart is that full and feeling so many things all at the same time. 

So, I thanked God for my husband.  For how God’s plans meant us staying here in Texas.  For my baby boy, even though he drives me crazy.  For my loving husband and my home.   For our friends and community and church.  I cried some and felt flustered and wanted to move on.  Not quite knowing how to express all that was in my heart - every range of emotion, the ambivalence, the anger, the hurt, the joy.  

I couldn’t help but thinking all day as I spun through my house readying potatoes and setting the table that I wasn’t supposed to be here.  Shouldn’t I be in North Dakota without my family?  Snowed in and lonely and feeling desperately sad to spend my first holiday without them, without my little home and the life I know.  Some days I feel tragically sad that it didn’t happen, wondering if we made a mistake. I was SO up for starting something new.  Even though it meant arctic winters and learning how to make new friends and leaving everything here behind.

We were so close to something new and different and adventurous - and then?  And then God changed His mind.  Did we really hear God tell us to leave?  And then I remember whose voice always starts with those doubt-leading questions and it isn’t that of my Savior, but of the deceitful serpent himself. 

Because yes, God really did say, and we really did listen.

Most days I am overjoyed that we stayed put.  Staying here means my relationships with my family can have the opportunity to rich and deepen and grow.  That our children can grow up knowing and seeing their grandparents.  Staying here means we didn’t have to leave a wonderful community of friends that make us feel cherished and included and loved on – friends we do stuff with and enjoy and do life with.  It’s been one of the biggest blessings of our year. 

But it’s been hard to sit in that disappointment with my husband.  To watch his dreams be crushed and wonder what the heck God is doing and if He even sees his heart.  Because what the heck is He doing with Todd’s story?  I watched God show up for me in it all, but Todd doesn’t share in that.  And I hurt so bad over this loss and over what I feel like I gained, and even now weep for it all.  Because I don’t understand and I feel like He is missing my husband or left him out of something and I don’t get it.

Walking with the Lord is a heart-wrenching, glorious thing.  And holding all of this reminds me of that very truth.

Aside from our non-move, life as we knew it was rocked by the birth of our second son this year.  My precious Jacob is quite precious.  His smile can quite literally light up a room.  But he is clingy and needy and isn’t happy unless I give him my complete and full attention all of the time.  He has worn me out and I’ve spent many days crying and discouraged and feeling like I suck at having two kids.  Jacob takes so much from me that I feel as though Tommy gets the short end of the stick.  Yet I can’t imagine life without his smile and loudness either.  I’m both thankful and drained at the same time, and how can this be?

Todd is such a giver.  He gives and gives and serves and loves and does – all the time.  I won’t ever comprehend the kind of love that he has for me that is okay with taking bathtime and bedtime duty so I can sneak away to our room to write and just be for awhile tonight.  This dream-crushed, seemingly missed-by-God man.  He waits to be invited hunting and never gets to go.  He drives a mini-compact car when a man of his stature and character is meant to be driving a big-ass truck.  He waits patiently for me and my heart.  He works hard and loves his children.  I never knew such a man could be for real.  But he is and he is my beloved and oh, how truly, richly blessed I am.

I wrote previously about it being a hard few months.  It is.  It has been.  I’m sure there is more hard to come.  But one thing that my 30 days of Thanks journey taught me was that if I sought out Jesus, I would find Him somewhere every time.  If I go looking, He will be there.  Some days He might be all show-offy and be there in gorgeous sunrises and autumn leaves and in my sunlit living room that makes me all swoony.  And other days He might be tucked away, in the dark, quietly whispering, barely noticeable.  But He is there. 

Below are a few pictures of the places I found Him this month when I went looking.  

 

May your holiday season be full of moments where you find Jesus in your ovens, your backseats, down the hall, in the smile of a friend or a warm embrace.  

Happy December.

To bring Him the Hard...and give thanks

Confession:  The last two years I've been one of those snarly cynical people on Facebook who see people jumping on the "30 days of thanks" bandwagon and have thought it was totally dumb.

Why only be thankful one month out of the year?  I'm not doing that, because I am always thankful, my prideful, know-it-all heart would say.  I swore I would never participate as I would rather go against the crowd when things trend like that on Facebook anyway.  I'm such a rebel.

But this year, I felt like my heart needed to ponder gratitude on a more deeper level.  It's been a rocky few months - okay, it's been a rocky several months really.  I've been hurting, I've been angry, I've been busy, I've been struggling, I've been overwhelmed.  Where is the giving of thanks in that?

Jacob.  Work.  Laundry.  My home.  Parenting.  Youth Group.  Hosting my family for Thanksgiving.  Marriage.  Friendships and feeling like I am failing at every one of them.  Finances.  Struggles with food.  Insomnia.  Issues with contempt.  Old hurts.  Feelings of rejection.  And failure.  And hopelessness.  And self-loathing.  Needless to say, all of this - my full plate, my full heart, my full stomach - led to a somewhat massive melt-down.  But afterward, I made a list of some ways I could care for myself.  I reached out to some friends.  I made an appointment to see my counselor.  I had a long talk with Todd.  I sought out some accountability.  I had it out with God one sleepless night.

Of course, my meltdown hit shortly after I decided to commit to this whole 30 days of thanks bit though - talk about a humbling experience.  Lest I sit in shame for quitting in the middle of it, I have forged through.  And ya'll - some days have just been downright hard because I don't feel very thankful for anything.  But a moment, a brief ray of sunshine will happen in my day, and I take notice.

I've been Instagramming my thanksgiving journey.  Taking a picture a day, looking for moments in my regular every day to be thankful for rather than just making a list.  Again, my own rebellious way of doing it and not being like everyone else.  Because I'm Jenn. 

This is probably my favorite so far.  The exploded potato in my oven. 

That day I was thankful for messes.  And for Jesus' unfailing love that always meets me right in the midst of it.  Because He does.  Because He has - every single time.

I've been thinking about this potato and it's mess and how it feels hard to give thanks for what's gone awry and needs tending to.  How it never feels easy to give thanks for the hard, for the painful, and challenging.  I do wonder though what might happen if I thanked God for those things - what might happen to my heart, to my relationship with Him, to my marriage, my friendships if I could thank Him for the hard things in those very moments.

It's maybe more natural to sit around our Thanksgiving tables and thank God for our blessings.  For our homes and jobs and families and health and our good and wonderful abundant things.  And I am deeply grateful for the life I have and the many abundant blessings that surround me.  I wonder though what it might be like to give thanks to God for the hard places.  For my pain and struggles and unmet longings.

This Thanksgiving, this is the place where He has asked me to meet Him.  To bring Him the hard and to give thanks.

So tomorrow, I will bake my pies and clean my house and prepare to host my family for a day of food and laughter and singing and memory-making.  And my hope is that my heart stays in this place of remembering and thanking Him for the things I really don't want to thank Him for.

I'll give thanks to you with gratitude, 

for lessons learned in how to thirst for you....