The Tale of a Family Christmas (from the perspective of the pragmatic, exaggerating, scroogy wife)

This story begins with two loving parents

Who by their own admission

Were unified in the meaning of Christmas

And were starting holiday traditions.

You’d think the man and wife

Could decide on a tree with no alarm

Dad said trees don’t come from stores;

This family would cut one from the farm.

“I’m allergic to real trees,” Mom cried.

“The children are much too young.

Let the ornaments stay in the box

And the lights remain unstrung.”

The wife’s watery eyes were not of sentiment

But aversion to the Evergreen

That led to steroids for her skin

And inhalers so that she could breathe. 

Husband was bewildered by his wife’s new ailments

But soon the woman realized

That to have a happy, old-fashioned Christmas

Her man would hospitalize his bride.

With love and dreams and visions,

More plans he was contemplating.

The wife found his Christmas exuberance

Quite frankly irritating.

But they pressed on with decorations

To make memories for this memoir:

Like when the toddler ate the tree light

and spent Christmas Eve in the E.R.

The tree would not stop shedding,

Needles broke the vacuum but Daddy fixed it.

The dog drank water from the tree stand

And threw up on the carpet.

The angry mom looked to the manger scene

But barked in disarray:

“WHERE IS BABY JESUS???”

He was missing from the display.

Was He stolen?  Dropped?  Misplaced?

He was present earlier that week.

No, it’s just the four-year-old’s version

Of Baby-Jesus-hide-and-seek.

The mom, knowing she might lose it

circled the family ‘round in prayer

Hands held, except the youngest’s finger

was up her nose exploring something there.

Mom threw her hands up in surrender:

“This blasted Christmas Spirit!!  I’ve tried and tried.

No matter how much this family strives

We just can not get it right.”

If Jesus spoke, He’d sweetly chuckle:

“The family squabbles, broken glass, and messed-up tree

Are symbols and reminders.  They tell the story

Of WHY your family needed Me.”

The Truth About Santa

I learned one very important lesson in Kindergarten I will never forget: one sure-fire way to make little people hate you is to tell them what they should believe about Santa.

I was that kid. I told my fellow classmates that Santa wasn’t real. I thought I was being kind and compassionate by telling them the truth, only sparing them of future heartache, but they threw their crayons at me (the five-year-old version of “stoning”).  I learned the hard way that by smashing the dreams of others, one can not win popularity contests, gain a hearing, or earn the right to influence others—even if that person is right.

As an adult, I've watched my grown-up peers have more civilized fights about the man in the red suit vs. the baby wrapped in swaddling clothes.  My big friends don’t throw crayons; they throw defenses, justifications, dirty looks, clenched jaws, and….Bible verses. 

Sing it with me:  In the air…there’s... a feeling….. of tension.

I sit back in amusement during these (fights?) (debates?) disagreements, unwilling to express my opinion because what I learned over 25 years ago applies today:  one sure-fire way to make big people hate you is to tell them how they should “do” Santa in their own household.  One can not win popularity contests, gain a hearing, or earn the right to influence others by smashing a parent’s fun—even if that person is “right”.

I am willing for people to hate me over certain issues; how a parent practices Santa in front of their children is not worth being de-friended or getting hate-mail.   I do, however, believe the “truth” about Santa must be taught:

Santa is a fun guy.  He’s jolly, kind, giving, hard-working, and a good CEO of the North Pole. A diligent leader, able to create a plan in January and see it to completion in December.  Without Santa, many elves would go un-employed and red-nosed reindeers would be overlooked, unable to rise to their potential.  Mr. Claus is able to remain humble in his successes, because he hasn’t forgotten the “little people”.   Santa presses on when people don’t believe in him.  He dreams big, flies high, and accomplishes goals that seem impossible--how DOES he get his big belly down small chimneys?  He is willing to be his own person, dress like no other, be okay with himself and comfortable in his own red suit and floppy hat. He is faithful to his wife, Mrs. Claus.  His age does not prevent him from investing in the younger generations.  Santa encourages nice behavior and gives good gifts to children who are freaked out by him.  But all children need to know that even Santa is not perfect:  

1) He is a glutton.  

2) He was seen kissing somebody's mommy.  

3) He can’t change the hearts of naughty children.

Santa is good, but he isn’t good enough.  He can reach the heavens in his sleigh, but will never arrive at Heaven by his impressive works.  Saint Nicholas' name first appeared on the naughty list, just like all the other children in the world. He can only get off of that list and into the Lamb’s book of life if he is covered by a different shade of red—the blood of Jesus.  

Even Santa can be naughty, but Jesus can change him, just like He can change you and me. 

The "truth" about Santa is that like you and me, he needs a Savior.

Balancing Act 2: Cutting the Fat

"How do I balance everything?"

What we are really asking is, "How do I do all of this stuff, and do it well?"

Short Answer:  We can't.

We do not need more time in the day, we need more wisdom with how to manage the time we have.  We need to know what activity to cut and when to cut it.  We need to know when it's okay to focus on one responsibility over the other, or focus on one person at the expense of others.

It is possible that when we feel overwhelmed and unable to accomplish all we have been given, then we are requiring things of ourselves that God does not require.  Check the schedule: what can get cut?  Sometimes it's not that we need to quit the activity,  but the expectations associated with all the activity.  For example:

A few weeks ago, I had a chaotic week.  There was no way I could home-school, take care of the kids, the house, and feed us like I normally do because I had several "outside-of-the-house" activities that I was preparing for.  Some things had to go, so I chose to let it be the laundry and the toys.  The kids had free reign of the house for a little while and their clutter was everywhere.  I was at peace with the chaos because I knew I was doing all I could do.

That is....until someone unexpectedly showed up at my house.

The emotions in my heart were surprising to even me, who does not claim to run a tight ship: embarressment, guilt, anxiety.  I was suddenly overwhelmed and felt the need to defend myself.  I can admit that I can't do everything, but I really don't want to show everyone.

Sometimes we can't throw off the responsibilities that we have been entrusted with, but we can throw off the things in our heart that keep us from feeling incredibly "unbalanced".  If you have searched your motives/ heart and found no tangible activity to take out of the schedule, consider taking a slash at:

*people-pleasing
*other's expectations
*your own expectations
*keeping up with the Jones'
*getting worth out of your performance

Do you feel an incessant need to be more balanced?  What activity or heart-idol can you cut?

The Balancing Act--how do we do it?

“How do I balance everything?” 

I've heard this question asked by college students, single adults, parents, co-workers and ministers.  Men and women who've been married a short time or for decades have wondered how they are to balance their responsibilities and their relationships.   This troubling dilemma seems to affect people regardless of age, gender, or stage of life.  Most of us think that once we solve the problematic balancing act, we'll feel successful, effective, and peaceful.

We all feel the problem, but few of us can give or live the solutions. I’ve rarely met a person who actually has the answers for how to master the balancing act.   There’s a reason we keep asking the "balance" question but seldom get adequate, long-lasting advice:

The Bible does NOT tell us to be balanced.

When I flip through the pages of Scripture, I find commands such as: Be holy.  Be wise.  Be fruitful.  Be strong.  Be humble.  Be patient.  I can always count on God's Word to help me think and give me specific directives.  His Word equips me  and every believer for good works, but never does it suggest we be "balanced".

This truth is freeing: Jesus assumes that when you follow Him, you'll be a little off your rocker.  That’s okay because rocking chairs (even the perfectly balanced ones) don’t go anywhere--they're stationary objects, moving back and forth, back and forth, until its occupant is lulled to sleep.

Christians have got to get off the boring rocking chair and stop asking how we balance all these things we may not even need to have in our life.  When our priorities are loving God and people, we're able to focus on what we need to do.  We need to wake up and move forward by striving to be biblical, not balanced.

"He has told you...what is good; and what does the Lord require of you but to do justice, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God?" -- Micah 6:8

From Messy Mommy to Missional Motherhood

I had two childhood dreams: to be a country music singer and a foreign missionary.  I admit one desire was of the flesh and one was of the Spirit, but the two dreams worked beautifully in my mind.  I planned to spend all day in the dirt with the people and write/sing their stories at night.

I do not prefer to sit in church and talk about missions, raise money for missions, or read books about other people on the mission field. I am built by God to be the feet of the Body.  I like to go, see people face-to-face, and tell their story. I am happiest in life when I can see that I am personally making a difference, so you can imagine my giddy spirit when this mission dream seemed to become reality at the age of 23.  After spending a year as a missionary on an American college campus, my husband and I started the process to serve over-seas. We had lived off of my husband’s income and saved mine so that we could easily deploy. 3 days before the first plane ticket was to be bought for the first mission conference, I found out that I was pregnant. The mission agency put us on hold and wanted us to wait a year after having a child, but by that time we were pregnant with a second baby and had seen God re-define our plans and give us a clearer sense of my husband's calling.

Unfortunately, I was not happy to find out we were expecting. For me, having children was the death of a dream.  Raising children didn't fit in my plan:  I wanted to fix people who were already broken, not bring new people into this broken world.  It pained me to watch the money we saved to evangelize the poor go to raising our own kids. Nevertheless, I could not deny what God had planned and given us--we had decisions to make.

I know enough about child development to understand that the first five years of a child’s life are crucial.  But Titus 2 gave me a greater reason to stay home with my pre-schoolers: I did not want to dishonor the Word of God by chasing only my dreams and desires.  As a young woman, I needed to find the best way to love my husband and children.  I set out to primarily stay home even though I do not prefer “working at home”.  This didn’t just mean I cut a 40+ hour work week out of my life, but also much of my own personal interests.  I rarely sang at church or committed to many extra activities. Any job or ministry that I was involved in during those pre-school years were to contribute to the overall welfare of the family and didn't take me away (physically or mentally) from being the primary care-giver to our children. 

Disclaimer: I've had many friends who have desired this lifestyle, but were not able to stay home for reasons beyond their control.  I believe “mom at home” is the best situation, but not always possible.

As a young mom, my life no longer consisted of a jam-packed schedule that made me feel important. I now lived with a calendar consisting ONLY of doctor’s appointments.  I had left a job where I was around a hundred people a day, talking/counseling/teaching college students to sitting in the living room with one little baby girl.  I didn't know how to sit and nurse a baby for 8 hours a day.  I was conditioned to set goals and finish them, now simple tasks (like laundry) seemed impossible.  I did not know how to go all day long without seeing one adult face.  I didn’t know how to be happy singing to just one little baby when I once got that fulfillment on stage.

There were times I was miserable as a new mom. Baby Kinley couldn’t talk to me—she screamed at me all day and all night. Because of her reflux, she was in constant pain and could barely sleep for more than 20 minutes.  Not only that, she clung to me for four years.  She screamed whenever I left her.  One of my family members thought Kinley needed to be psychologically evaluated.  Her dependence on me was not normal.

By the time my baby was 6 months old, I had lost a lot of weight and looked unhealthy.  My body could not keep up with the demands of the baby--between breast-feeding and stress I had nothing left for me.  There was one memorable day when my husband came home and I was emotionally in pieces.  I looked and smelled awful.  I was covered in spit-up and my floor was covered with clutter.  I pined away, “I don’t know what I’m doing.  I can’t accomplish a thing.  Where is my life going?”   Kinley was taking her five minute nap at the time, so my husband took a picture of her off the wall and made me look at it.  “THIS!!!!” he firmly told me.  “You are accomplishing THIS!!!  Look at her!!!  See her fat rolls???  You did that!!!”

And 11 years later….look at that.

 

 

I couldn’t see the worth of all those seemingly meaningless mothering tasks at the time.  I can see it now—the places in my heart that were once filled with struggle and doubt are now full of joy and peace. Anyone who knows Kinley would have a hard time believing all the "trouble" she caused me as a newborn and toddler. I'll be the first to tell you—she's not normal, but she doesn't need psychologically evaluated. She now depends on the Lord as she once did on me. I could have traveled the world over to be a part of God’s work, but I’ve seen the Holy Spirit just as evident in my own home. I could write a long time about the good works displayed in her, but she's not the point.  It is the Seed that is good, but I got to plant it and construct the soil in which it would grow. I got to nurture that Seed in her.  God is still using us to prune each other. I don’t know if the future holds a period of rebellion on her part or not, but I am confident that the Lord has sealed her heart and claimed her as His. My husband and I more than halfway done raising Kinley, and it's thrilling to see her heart beat harder for missions than mine ever did. 

As I struggled through my purpose in life, I realized quickly that motherhood could not be my highest calling, or mothering would quickly become my idol. We are first and foremost children of God, and when we carry out that calling we help our children become like Him.  I've made the decision to spend my ideas and talents on the reality God has given me now, not an idea of something I may have in the future. 

I want to encourage every mother that your work is not going to waste if done in the name of Jesus.  Think of the woman with the alabaster jar (Mark 14:3-9). She broke the bottle that held her most expensive possession and poured the perfume on the feet of Jesus. The disciples around her criticized her in their hearts because what could have fed the poor immediately around her was spent on the future of one man. Jesus didn’t think it was a waste.  He said “she has done what she could”.  I urge you, young mom, to break the jar that holds your dreams and desires and pour it all out on Jesus by serving your family. When you break your jar, let it spill into the homes of others so they can be anointed and refreshed also. Let what you do in your home proclaim the Gospel to the world.  Don’t try to hold on to a few drops or long for the fragrance back like I did—it will rob the joy out of you.  Break your jar with confidence so the Lord may produce bigger dreams in your children than you could have dreamt for yourself.

 

Spray Paint and Spiritual Things

I'm sure my aunt and uncle had a lot of faults; funny thing is, I was never aware of them. He's a laid-back, patient man who gets amused by the tiniest things and she's a friendly, hospitable farmer's wife that always had a meal for you. I loved playing at their house when I was a child. I chased cats in the barn, fed their cows, played hide-and-seek, and spray painted their wall.

Somehow in my free time as a 6 or 7 year old, I found a can of spray paint and took it to the brick wall of my uncle and aunt's enclosed back porch. I don't know why I did it, but I remember the sick feeling in the pit of my stomach when I knew I had to show my relatives what I had done. I don't remember what they said to me, but I do recall they weren't angry as my parents justifiably were. My aunt and uncle didn't discipline me and I knew I should have been.

Last night as my kids tricked and treated, they got to meet these relatives for the first time.  Over 25 years after the incident, my children got to see the evidence of my childhood mishaps. My aging uncle turned on the dim light to the back porch and pulled back his jackets that hung on the wall. There it was....clear as.....black spray paint on a red wall. As my kids squealed with delight over their mother's mischief, the conversation went something like this:

Kids: "Mom, I can not believe you did that."
Me:  "Me either."
Kids: "If we would have done that, we would have gotten a spanking."
Me: "Yes. Yes you would."
Kids:  "WHAT were you thinking?"
Me: "I don't know.  What could I have been thinking?"
Kids: "I guess you were thinking that wall could use some re-decorating."

My uncle's reaction was strange. He chuckled years ago, and today he is still genuinely laughing about the whole ordeal. He told me that he passed by the "artwork" the other day and thought of me.  My uncle and aunt sat at their table in amusement and said "if that's the worst thing that's ever been done to us, we'd be doin' alright."

My uncle never had to muster up the right feeling when it came to that stuff; he automatically responded well when children messed things up. There's a reason Aunt Peggy and Uncle LD didn't react in explosive anger.  When they built the walls of their house, they weren't thinking of resale value. They were thinking of the value of the people in their home. Though they had every right to lash out at me over the permanent markings, they chalked it up to the fact that kids do stupid things and it doesn't necessarily mean they'll turn out to be stupid people. 

Last night made me think a lot about the things I want to pass down to my kids. Do I want to pass down shiny heirlooms that sit on a shelf, untouched by grimy hands? Do I want something tangible that can be admired by observers?  Because the truth is: the prettier something is, the less it's been used. Fine china doesn't give my kids their daily nourishment--they are fed by the bowls with dents and nicks.  Each scrape, scratch and scuff on my dining room table tell the story of a happy kid who was coloring or eating or running their toy car across it. 

I want to pass down useful qualities, unseen by the eye. I want to be a parent who is strict on love, and lax on stuff.  When people look at my kids and grandkids, I want them to see the handy artwork of Jesus: in the flesh, a man strangely unattached to things. The Son of God left this world homeless, His only possession being the people He left behind.

My childhood actions defaced the wall in my uncle and aunt's house. Their reaction left a permanent mark in my heart.

Father, Hallow Your Name This Halloween......

"Our Father in Heaven, hallowed be your name. Your kingdom come, your will be done."

Years ago, I started praying the first line of the Lord's prayer for various occasions. I by no means remember to do it all the time, but it has become a regular practice. The kids will hear me pray before bed, "Father, glorify your name through our family." On the way to various events, I'll pray specifically that God will use my kid to honor Him. I have found it to be the most powerful sentence I've ever uttered, and one in which God always responds with "will do".

This year, my husband can't be with me and the kids for Halloween, so I filled the week with complaints (complaining and cynicism come so naturally for me). But then I asked the Lord to help me be creative (creativity only comes supernaturally for me). "Father, glorify your name in Halloween. Use us to bring honor to you." The Lord brought to mind that there are other people who are lonely every Halloween. There are widows in nursing homes and shut-ins in isolated houses who remember their childhood days but have no children to currently celebrate with. So tomorrow, the kids (in their cute little costumes) and I will be taking little gifts to some lonely elderly people. We'll go to a nursing home, and also visit some of the wonderful, aging people who watched me grow-up--people who are part of my spiritual heritage and have never met my kids.

I think when it comes to holidays and special events, God is all about redeeming them. No matter how the customs originated or why certain people celebrate certain things, as a Christian I have the freedom to celebrate Christ on any day that He has given me. My family's practices for Halloween (or any holiday) are aligned with Colossians 3:16-17, "Therefore, let no one pass judgment on you in questions of food and drink, or with regard to a festival or a new moon or a Sabbath. These are a shadow of the things to come, but the substance belongs to Christ."

The way I see it, on any given Halloween, you've got 5 options. You can be:
1) scary
2) slutty
3) seclusive
4) sanctifying
5) serving
You can pick for yourself the ones not fitting for Christians.

Tomorrow, my family will be doing # 5. Tonight I watched a very special friend do # 4. If you've known me for any length of time, you've heard me talk about Sabrina. Her husband died a year ago, and she is left alone to raise a 3 year old boy and 1 year old girl. At her Halloween party tonight, friends gathered around her living room. Sabrina stood in the circle and expressed her greatest desire--that God would use her and her little family to produce spiritual fruit in which they could be useful to others. She passed oil around and asked us all to annoint her house and set it apart for the Lord's will. She prayed (oh I love to hear that woman pray) and then several adults scattered around the house praying individually.

It was a very emotional experience for me. I prayed that God would bring laughter and discipleship at Sabrina's couch. I prayed that God would use her fridge to nourish her body and that her kitchen would provide spiritual nourishment to all who entered it. I prayed at her bedpost that God would give her rest. I prayed at her desk (a place with pen and paper and computer), that God would send His Spirit upon her as she wrote. She's an incredible writer who has been bringing glory to God for years through that talent. Of course, these petitions are things God has already done and is doing and will continue to do.

On October 30, 2011 I had the privilege of watching a woman dressed like this.......


make a worship event out of a party. With the curls of her big blonde wig bouncing as she spoke, Sabrina stood in the middle of her peers and testified about God's faithfulness. She used a celebration to put Christ right in the center.

And so after tonight, though many may disagree, I'm convinced that God has always been, is, and will continue to hallow his name at Halloween.