That Christmas changed me.

One year ago, on Christmas Eve, I was asked to open up the Christmas Eve service at my church.  I surprised myself by saying yes without thinking about it, and even more so by following through and speaking in front of a large crowd of my church family.

Just a few days ago, I saw a post online that reminded me of that night and what I tried to express verbally about how my approach toward the meaning of Christmas has changed over the years.  Since I read the online post, I have been thinking about it again, as I do every year, but maybe just a little bit more this year than in the past few years. This year has definitely given more time for thinking about things, hasn’t it?  I have been revisiting my own experience with the meaning of Christmas so frequently since then, feeling the compelling need to write it out, that I do not fully recall the details of what I read that prompted this self-reflection in the first place. 

It has been an exceptionally long week, it feels like, and I am past the brink of exhaustion, but now that my children are sound asleep and I am sitting in quiet stillness beside the lights of our Christmas tree with remnants of gift opening still scattered a few places throughout the living room, I feel compelled to try to express the thoughts of my tired mind through my fingertips before I can drift off to sleep.  My spirit feels awakened and like there is so much to say, I just hope that it flows out in somewhat coherent formation.

Christmas is such a profound time of year.  In the Christian faith, the meaning of Christmas centers around the arrival of God here on earth, as a tiny human baby, ready to live a life for us, to die for us, so we can live forever.  It’s about true love.  It’s about blessing.  It’s about giving.  It’s about family.  It’s about all of these monumental, incredible, overwhelmingly good things.

It’s also about sacrifice.  It’s about saying yes to the most encompassing love you can feel, birthing a true miracle, knowing that it is a gift for you, but knowing it is to be given as a gift for all of mankind, for all of your life, and for all of eternity.

I can hardly fathom that, even knowing what it is about.

I can remember the first time that all really penetrated my heart, though.

It was a decade ago.  

It was a barely lit room.

It was the middle of a quiet night.

It was with a tiny, almost 8 week-old baby boy on my bosom, and a dog at my feet.

It was a gut wrenching, tear producing moment in the middle of a cold winter’s night.

It was the moment that I feel I saw what Mary saw, the night she held Jesus in her arms in that stable, half a world away from where I was, centuries before I ever walked the earth. 

I had my miracle son in my arms.

I felt so selfishly grateful that I knew I was not in Mary’s shoes, having to sacrifice my son for the world.  I wept as I imagined what her life was like.  I tried to fathom what it would be like, to grow my son inside my body, and years later, have to watch my son’s body be beaten and broken, the life tortured away in front of the masses, the weight of the world’s sins upon his back as he bled and died for all of those who loved him, those who did not know to love him, those all around the world.  At the same time, I realized that it was possible that, loving and living a life for Jesus could mean that some day, however unlikely it seems, my son may end up sacrificing himself for the love of others in this world.  I prayed it would never happen, and I could keep him for ever and always until the end of my time.  I felt relieved to know that it was never God’s plan for me to fill Mary’s shoes.

However, I admired Mary. She had the most amazing strength, and I bet she did not realize how strong she was. 

Yet, also, I pitied Mary.  She watched the most brutal and prolonged murder of her blessed baby boy and knew she had to allow it to happen.

I thought about how she spent her son’s entire loving him, nurturing him, and devoting herself to him, in a way no mother had to prior nor ever will again.  She knew from the moment she conceived him that he was sent for the world but her momma’s heart would have had no idea what that entailed.  She knew she was going to be sacrificing her body, her heart, and her soul for her son, for all of humanity, and despite knowing the details, she said yes.  She had the most incredible, willing faith.

I know that Christmas is not about Mary.  But I also know that thinking about Mary that Christmas changed me.  

Holding my own son in my arms that night brought such a deeper meaning to the gift of true love, blessed upon the world, born to save us all.  I saw the true meaning of Christmas in my own baby’s eyes.

I believe that processing and understanding the depth of this realization will be a lifelong process for me.  Every year, I believe I understand a little bit more.  It is a gift given to me by my journey through motherhood.   I have heard commentary about how magical and joyful it is to experience Christmas as a child, but how much more magical and joy-filled it is to experience children living out the wonder of Christmas.  I think there’s truth to that, but I definitely contend that the meaning of Christmas is what changed most for me having my children to experience Christmases alongside.

Knowing that Christmas is about the true love born as a baby, given for the restoration of our eternity and relationship with our Heavenly Father is something I try to instill upon my children.  I know it gets lost often in the merriment of giving and receiving of gifts, the chaos and clatter of paper and packages, the fawning and fighting that may go along with an abundance of material blessings all in one grand swoop, but I try.  Knowing what I know, recalling that night a decade ago helps guide me through exciting, yet sometimes stressful holiday moments, and helps me take some quiet moments to center my heart back where it belongs, not in current circumstances where children maybe had a little too much Christmas excitement for the day and are emotionally exhausted and physically fried, but in my gratefulness for the gift only our Heavenly Father could give, and the thankfulness for that young mother, eons ago, who said yes to a calling and gifted her most treasured blessing, her miracle, for me.

I pray that someday, my children are able to more fully embrace a deeper, truer meaning of Christmas.  I know that they know it’s about Jesus being born for us so that he could die and bring us to God. But, perhaps, one day as an adult, they too will be able to feel the depth and profound meaning of Christmas in a child’s eyes, if they do not have that opportunity while gazing into their mother’s as children themselves.

I have had my share of monumental type Christmases in a wide variety of ways, each of which had a lasting impact on my memories and emotions, shaping my life story and sculpting me into who I am.

That Christmas ten years ago changed me in ways I am still discovering.

NMW

 No Matter What

NMW

Those are my initials. 

Actually, years ago, my dear cousin, my Bean, Tarah, pointed that fact out to me.  She said when she saw the phrase “no matter what,” she thought of me.

In church this morning, Pastor Brent Parker gave an amazing message about peace.  I recommend it to anyone right now, and it’s accessible via Church at the Gate’s website.

In the midst of the message, he used the phrase “no matter what” and it latched my attention, hook, line, and sinker.  I actually picked my phone up from under my chair and wrote myself a note- “NMW + Peace” is all it said.

Peace, no matter what.

Peace, NMW.

This world has been shaken this year in countless ways.  We are living through something that I believe most would think, we were completely unprepared to live through.

Because of the chaos and the uncertainty we all face right now, the world as a whole is struggling.  There’s upheaval and unknowns and it is unsettling for many.

The world needs peace.

It was a timely message, in that it’s December, it’s advent, and we are preparing for Christmas.

Christmas is the celebration when none other than the Lord of Lords, the King of Kings, the Prince of Peace, inhabited the earth.  He born himself among us, to walk alongside us, to show us the goodness of God.

Then, he gave His life so that we could be with him, always.  We are with Him now, in each and every moment, and if we allow Him to, He is with us in each of our hearts.  He is our spirit and soul.  

The world is searching for peace right now.  They’re looking for it- as a thing.  

And, as Brent pointed out, peace isn’t a thing.

Peace is a who.

That Who is right here, right now, every moment before, every moment coming up, every miniscule space of this gigantic world.  Peace is all around.

I know, to someone who doesn’t know the Prince of Peace yet, it all sounds silly.  It sounds like something that cannot possibly be true.  It sounds like something to research and try to prove as reality instead of just going all in and believing.  It sounds too good to be true.

But it is true.

We can have Peace, NO MATTER WHAT, because Peace has us and is just waiting for us to accept Him.

No matter what, NMW has Peace.  While I know I have it, every moment of my life, because I have Him, I also know the reality of the situation is sometimes, it doesn’t feel like it.  I’ve found that’s usually because I’ve forgotten to look for peace as a who, and have started striving again for peace as a thing.  It’s easy to fall back to that, though it gets less frequent with time.  

I’m still learning this.  It’s a lifelong journey, and the destination is not the goal, it’s the process we take to arrive there that has the most meaning.  It’s what grows us the fullest and roots us the deepest.  It’s what softens and expands our hearts and our minds.  When we finally arrive at the destination, we will understand that much better. 

Honestly, when I realized my Peace is a who, I can see CLEARLY that I've been walking this year, this lifetime, out in Peace all along- even when it didn't seem like it.

I write this not only to you, but to myself, as a reminder.  This year has been incredibly difficult and I’ve spent days lacking peace as a thing.  Thankfully, I’ve been blessed with a family that has been so firm but gentle, and overwhelmingly loving, when they steer me back to my Peace as a who.

I pray that in this Christmas season, you can join me in preparing and accepting the Peace that’s been here all along since the figurative beginning of literal endless time.   I pray striving ceases, and acceptance abounds, and from that acceptance, Love will overcome the world before our eyes.

“Our faith in Jesus transfers God’s righteousness to us and he now declares us flawless in his eyes.  This means we can now enjoy TRUE and LASTING PEACE with God, all because of what our Lord Jesus, the Anointed One, has done for us.” -Romans 5:1 (TPT)

Let the words flow from my mind through my fingertips

I love to create.  I love photography, painting, coloring, crafting, crocheting, singing, wood burning, and so many other random ways of seeing something come into being by the work of my mind and my hands.

I love writing.  I love writing beautiful words in script, I love writing notes and letters, I love writing down my thoughts and sharing them with others when applicable.  I have kept a journal or a blog of some kind for most of my life. 

Last year, it was spoken over me that I would speak in front of people.  I saw that come to life shortly after, giving a portion of my testimony in front of the women’s group at church, and then by opening up Christmas Eve church a couple of months later.  But, as I’ve said to multiple people, I write more fluidly than I speak.

This year, it has been spoken over me that I would write more.  I haven’t been sure of how that would come to fruition, but I have seen myself writing more and more, whether it is comments in online Bible study and church services, social media posts, little notes, digital artwork, or blog posts, I have been slowly seeing more words flow from my mind through my fingertips.

It’s even been spoken over me that I should or will write a book some day.  Time will reveal that, I’m sure, although I cannot even begin to imagine what I would fill an entire book with.

This morning, I watched church from home once again, still recovering from the after effects of my second positive Covid test and infection at the end of September.  Today, our pastor and his wife, again, spoke over me in regard to releasing writing.  Then, to my surprise, the service was about creativity and how we are all crafters in our own ways.  We all bring things to life.

As I sat and listened and reflected on my own personality and my love of making things, often times to bless other people, I remembered the weekend prior to getting sick again.  

I attended a women’s conference at my friend’s church- the Enough Conference.  This year, it was focused on being equipped and empowered, and reflected quite a bit on the pandemic we are currently living through.  Multiple times, it was asked, “what are you afraid of, what’s holding you back?”  The premise is that we are all living through a scary, overwhelming, unknown time in our lives, but we are surviving and overcoming it all.  If we can get through these days, what is keeping us from our purposes?

I recall, that weekend, wondering what my purpose is.  What am I supposed to be bringing to this world right now?  If I was created for such a time as this, what am I supposed to contribute to this time?  

Those questions lasted a few days, until one night, I laid in my bed, and the words “empowered” and “equipped” kept circling around in my mind.

Years ago, I wrote poetry, frequently, in my bed, in the dark, with my pen on the paper and unable to see what my script looked like until morning. I would let it fly from my fingers without criticism until I refined it in the daylight.

That night, I pulled out my phone, and with very little editing involved, I let the words glide onto my screen. 

I love music, especially worship music.  I sometimes think of my own testimony as a worship song, although it’s not really put to an audible melody.  After I wrote these words, I thought of them as worship as well, although they too, lack an audible melody.  I haven’t been sure of what I am supposed to do with these words, so they’ve been sitting in secret for almost two months.  

This morning, I felt it was time to release them.  I wrote this as a reminder to myself on the days and nights I wonder, questions, and struggle.  I have spent many hours searching, and sometimes, I search for so long that I see right past the beautiful, simple, wholesome answers that God provides.

Perhaps you’re out there, much like I was, and have been multiple times, wondering what your purpose is in times such as these.  Perhaps, you wonder who you are inside.  Perhaps, you wonder what your value is in this world.  These words are for you, too.

Let me assure you, you have a purpose, you are a beautiful, treasured creation, and God has a plan for you.  There’s something only you can bring to this world.  You too, were created for such a time as this.  

I pray you know that you are cherished, important, and Loved.

 You tell me that I'm a masterpiece-

A wonderful creation, I am unique,

And I know in my heart it is true,

Because I put all of my trust in You.

But some days, I find myself confused.

I pray and wonder “what should be my use?”

I try to read between the lines

Of the words you write over my life.

I peel the layers off the canvas that you paint,

And inspect each imprint on this clay,

Just to see if I can figure out who I'm supposed to be.

But, when I'm finally still and breathing in 

Your Spirit floating like the wind,

And soak in the gentle melody 

you composed for only me,

I realize it's so simple, I don't need to keep searching.

I'm your beautiful, beloved one,

The sparkle in your fiery eyes,

The one you sent your son to guide 

Into your safe and steady arms.

I am chosen and I am equipped,

Empowered for this time I'm living in,

And nothing I can do will change 

The way you feel about

Who I am:

Fearfully, wonderfully, beautifully, carefully, joyfully, perfectly made.

I am your Love.

I will not live a life of fear,

Because the weapons that I need are here

Inside my heart, soul, spirit, and my mind.

The battle rages all around,

But with you the end of war is found.

Death has come knocking at my door.

I will not cower in its shadow anymore.

Your breath of life fills me to overflow...

When I'm finally still and breathing in

Your spirit, floating like the wind,

And soaking in the gentle melody

You composed for only me,

I remember...

I'm your beautiful, beloved one,

The sparkle in your fiery eyes

The one you sent your son to guide 

Into your safe and steady arms.

I am chosen and I am equipped,

Empowered for the time I'm living in,

And nothing I can do will change

The way you feel about me,

What you see when You gaze upon me,

The person I am called to be,

Who I really am-

I am your Love.

I am made to Love.

So, let me Love.

Our first decade together

 Dearest Spencer,

This is it, the end of an era.  Tomorrow, when you wake up, you will no longer be nine.  You will be into the double digits, never to go back.  Tomorrow, you will have been alive and breathing on this earth for ten full years.

That’s a decade, you know.

Tomorrow, we will have made it through our first decade together.   You and I, we’ve always been a special team, you know.  You made me a mommy, and we have learned this life together for 10 full years.

Ten!  It’s such a huge milestone, don’t you think?

It’s so hard to wrap my mind around that number.  I can see each year represented by one finger on my hand.  But from here on out, that will no longer be possible.  That’s so many years, buddy!  We can no longer hold them on our hands.

I remember sitting in our apartment, ten years ago tonight, knowing the next morning you would be on your way into this world.  I was filled with such nervous excitement. I couldn’t imagine the world with you in it. I couldn’t wait to see your face and get to know you.

You know, there were actually years when I wasn’t sure if God was ever going to allow me to be a mommy.  It was a struggle to get there, but God is so good.  You were the answer to that prayer I prayed so many times, and you’ve been an answer to so many prayers since then.

I could not imagine for even a moment just how incredible life would be the moment I first held you in my arms.  I couldn’t imagine what it would really be like to be your mommy, and now there’s no moment I would want to ever try to imagine what it would be like if I wasn’t.

Ten years.  Ten! It’s quite exciting though, don’t you think?  It’s been an absolute joy watching you grow into the young man you’ve become.  Yes, it’s been stressful at times, for both of us, since we are always still learning together.  I am the oldest sibling in my family too, so I know how it can be sometimes.  I try my hardest to get it right, but I know, because I’m human, sometimes, I get it wrong.  The best part about it is that you’ve always loved me and forgiven me when I haven’t quite gotten parenthood right.  You’re human too, and you get mad at me sometimes and say things that aren’t the nicest, but I know deep in your heart that you are so grateful for me.  You’ve said it in so many ways, so many times, by the little notes you leave me that bring me the happiest of tears, to the way you cover me up with blankets if I fall asleep on the couch when I’m not feeling well.  You show it in the way you ask the Alexa to play my favorite songs, and walk by with a smile telling me “this one’s for you, mom.”  There have been more times than I can even count where you just walk by or sit next to me and tell me you love me, or that I’m the best mom in the world.  When I feel like I’m failing, I look at you and your siblings and see how beautiful and strong you are, and I know that failure must not be true.

This year has been hard.  I know that the trauma we have been through together, with me being so sick for so long, took it’s toll on your heart.  I am aware that it was incredibly hard to watch your mom be asleep for almost days on end, or unable to walk across the room without struggling to breathe.  I know how scared you were that I might not make it through a day or a night.  

And, quite honestly, I’m sorry that you had to go through that. I’m sorry my body wasn’t stronger and that it was such a hard time to get through. I’m sorry for the days I was unable to be the best mother, to be a mother you truly deserved.  I’m sorry for the way that it made you grow up just a little bit more, a little bit sooner than either of us would have hoped.  I hope that you know that every time I’ve apologized for being grumpy or rude, that I was sincere, and it broke my heart a little each time that I was not the greatest mom that there is.  

But, I tell you what- the way you have faced this journey has made me so incredibly proud.  I have seen you become such a strong young man, seen the love you have for not only me, but your siblings, the way you helped make sure I was okay and they were okay.  You are a wonderful big brother, yes, even if sometimes you and your siblings fight or say things you don’t mean, and you are a magnificent son.  God knew what he was doing when he placed us together for this life.

I hope that you know that I love you with my entire heart.  I love your siblings with my entire heart too, of course, but you had my heart first.  

This year has shown me so many ways that you have become a creative and independent young man.  One of my favorite memories was just a couple of weeks ago, walking along in the woods, watching you take pictures with my camera.  You brought me the utmost joy watching you in your element. I love taking photographs too, but as a momma, there’s something even more special watching your child develop that interest. I hope that someday we can go on a photography journey together, just the two of us.

I am also so proud and amazed by you and your new interest in playing the viola. I have told you before that I remember being younger and teaching myself the guitar, and being nervous to let others hear me play, so I completely understand that side of you.  When you let me listen to you, my heart just swells with joy, and I see such greatness inside of you.  No matter what happens, no matter how long you decide to play that music, I will hold these memories in my soul forever, and treasure them the rest of my days.

Spencer, you are such a brave, smart, funny, kind, compassionate, strong-willed young man. I know that there are struggles you have, but I know they are things you can and will work through.  

I pray that in the coming year, you really begin to see, feel, and honestly believe just how great a person you are.  I know that you know God holds you dear, but I hope you really, truly feel your value to Him, to your family, to your friends, and to the world.  I know that it’s easy to be hard on yourself and to think negative things, and I just pray that you are able to see that those negative things that come into your mind some times are not true, and that you are in fact all of the good things I have declared just now.  You can do hard things. You will do great things. You will leave this world a better place.  I just know it.

I pray that as you are older, you find it in your heart to not take offense if others say or do things that affect you in a negative way.  I pray that you are always quick to forgive, able to see when you may have not been the kindest or have caused offense, and quick to apologize for those situations with utmost sincerity.  In a world that is full of confusion and chaos, it will get you far in life, and you will stand out among the crowd genuine and sincere.  I pray that you are able to continue to see the good in others and find ways to help when someone needs it.  I have seen you do this so much this year already, and I just hope that that part of you continues to strengthen. I know it’s hard to do the right thing sometimes, but I pray that you’ll hear God’s voice and feel Him help you along in those difficult situations.

I love you, Spencer.   I love your hugs and snuggles, tucking you in and kissing your forehead. I hope we can hold onto them for at least another year.  I hope that, despite the many bumps in the road that have gotten us to this day, that you have had a wonderful first decade with me. I hope you can look back on each year that you have memories, and see that you were loved.  I hope you can see that you’ve had joy and laughter all along, despite the days of tears and heartache. I pray that the good will always outweigh the not as good memories in your mind.  

I cannot wait to see what this next year brings for you.  There are beautiful things on your horizon.  

Thank you for the decade of love, grace, mercy, and memories.

You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and I am so glad you’re mine.

I love you.

-Mom

The Ravine

You find yourself teetering the cliff of darkness, pulled away from falling inward by focusing upward instead of down into the pit.  As long as you know where to look, you will be safe.

Sometimes, you have to remind yourself every couple of seconds to look up instead of down, and it’s an exhausting battle for your focus.  It is so much easier to look downward when the weight inside your mind feels like a bushel of stones.  It’s such a heavy burden to carry sometimes.

You realize how close you could be to falling, as a slight falter in your footing knocks a pebble, and as you listen you cannot hear it reaching the bottom.  You realize the cliff is much higher than you can comprehend and if you topple, you do not know if you will ever quit falling.   

Sometimes, you don’t see yourself at the cliff until you’re in that balancing act, having slowly wandered on your way, led there without necessarily realizing it until you’re already at the brink, or maybe you have been traipsing about endlessly, trying to navigate through thick and murky fog, only to realize where you’ve ended up as you are flirting with the gravity lurking before you.  You know that you’re one small misstep from falling, so you try to keep your body still while your head spins around to ascertain where exactly you are in relation to where you began.  

How did you get there?  What lured your steps this way?

You look up again.  You know where to look.  You position yourself the slightest degree, and plant one foot firmly in front of the other.  You know where you belong.  You will not succumb to the ravine.

Sound familiar?

When I wrote that the other night, I saw the ravine as just a dark pit of endless negative thoughts.  I have experienced that ravine before and I have fallen continuously into it for days on end sometimes.  I have always been able to find my way back to where I am centered and focused, thank the Lord.

Admittedly, it’s been a rough year for not only myself but thousands of others.  

I have found in my own life experiences, mentally and emotionally, my nights can be much tougher than my days.  As I lay awake, alone in the dark during those night-time trials, I can feel my spirit weighted down when my thoughts start plummeting.

I have faith in God.  I know He is always with me.  Always.  In fact, I have been blessed with visions or dreams of Him alongside me living out my day to day life.  

But, I am human, I am broken and made whole, but I still struggle sometimes.

Lately, it seems more than I have in months or maybe even years past (and I have had quite a collection of rough years).  I think a lot of it has to do with the loneliness of isolation and quarantine during a pandemic.  I have spent months inside these walls with my children.

While living in isolation, the first two months, I was more open and honest about my thoughts and emotions. I was more willing to talk about what I was thinking or feeling at any given moment.  I was more aware that if I was becoming closed off, I should speak out.  I wrote more for myself and publicly.  I talked on the phone more, even though I have a hard time staying focused on phone conversations.  I cried to more friends.

This time, it has been much harder for me.  I found myself thinking, “here we go again” and not wanting to burden or bother anyone.  I found myself reaching out to people less and less, and as the pandemic surges all around all of us, I don’t even know that I realized it was happening and I certainly did not expect anyone else to notice.

It’s been tough. 

But I’m aware of it now, and that’s step one.  Step two is opening up about it and inviting someone in.  

I want you to know that in the world we’re experiencing right now, whether you believe in God and hold fast to Him as I do, and know He’s always right there and catching your tears even if you don’t feel or see Him, 

Or you don’t,

That it’s okay to admit when you’re struggling.  

It’s okay to get help.

It’s okay to ask others to help you see the joy inside of you.  It’s okay to have others to help you find your hope.  It’s okay to ask others to help guide and anchor you.

Don’t let your perceptions of yourself and the perceptions of the world stop you.

I also venture to say it’s okay to call a friend who you think might be struggling even if they don’t see it themselves.  Sometimes, you will crack that heart wide open and the first steps of the journey can begin.

“In his kindness God called you to share in his eternal glory by means of Christ Jesus.  So after you have suffered a little while, he will restore, support, and strengthen you, and he will place you on a firm foundation.”  1 Peter 5:10. (NLT)