It was the month before Christmas....

As I survey my surroundings, I find myself in total amazement.  Sun glistening on the pond.  Tree sparkling with twinkling lights.  Faithful dog lying at my feet.  Senior son off to conquer the SAT.  The seasons of life.

Christmas brings to me a season of gratefulness, joy, and reflection.  When I ponder that my God would humble Himself to come in the form of a babe....to be born in a barn....Who am I?  The God of the entire Universe came in the lowliest of forms....to be born to die....for me.  HE desires relationship with...me.

The world is not always black and white.  I want it to be.  I need it to be.  Yet, in my small, tiny, miniscule relationship with the Creator of the Universe, He reminds me that He has a plan.  Better than my own.  Greater than my own.  And that His plan takes everything into account, so that I don't have to worry when it all doesn't seem to "fit".

Soverign God is in control.  He has it covered.  Wow.  I can rest.  I don't need to worry.  Nor do I need to attempt to control everything.  He's got it under control.  And He's got me covered.  I love to think of God's hands.  In my mind, He can cradle me in one hand, and cover me with the other.  In the palm of His hands, nothing can touch me nor reach me that He does not allow to.  Amazing.

And then there's this grace thing.  Do you really understand grace?  I know I don't.  Yet, the little bits of me that do...are simply bowed over by the idea that He's waiting on me, for me, in spite of me.  He wants me to turn from my wicked ways...daily...and cry out to Him.  Abba Father.  I need you.  I want you.  I'm broken.  I need your forgiveness....at which point, He pulls me close, and wipes my tears and says..."enter in my child, you are mine...I've got you covered...by My grace you were saved...nothing you have ever done, or ever will do, is good enough to save you...yet, because you cry out to Me....you are mine."   Wow.  Wow.  Amazing.  Grace.  For a sinner such as me.....or you...

This season of life finds me celebrating my Saviors birthday.  My Grace-Giver's birthday.  My Abba Father has a birthday about to be marked...and the entire world knows about it...and most of them are going to have a party in celebration.  As I plan the party preparations, I must plan focus on my Party Guest.  Jesus Christ, the One who desire relationship with broken, pitiful, sinful me...is having a birthday...   What in the world is going to be my gift for Him?

Seasons of Life

When I grow up...what shall I be?  The thought still swirls in my mind from time to time.  Psychologists would say that I have the "Imposter Syndrome".  After all, I will be fifty next month.  I have birthed five children, seen two graduate from college, and even married one off this summer.

Sweet Son-in-love is so good to Married Daughter.  I watch them as they find their rhythm and pace together in life.  Young professionals, working hard, as they go from "me" to "we".  They are in a new season.

Daring Daughter number two is working in a professional job as well.  Third shift.  As I try to support her in all of her strange hours, packing lunches, making sure she's up...I entertain the thought of doing what she is doing, for myself.  When I grow up.

Precious daughter three is a freshman this year.  In college.  How DID that occur.  It's an amazing school.  Perhaps, when I grow up, I might be lucky enough to go there as well!  They really seem to be turning out some people with strong character and exceptional skills.

Sensitive son is a Senior.  Working.  Driving.  Applying to college.  Is this some mistake?

And my baby...can he really be fifteen?  Hmm...I remember when I taught him to ride a bike.  And how he talked ALL the time in the car, whether I listened or not.  He now stands two heads taller than me.

Well...when I close the chapter on this season...what shall I do?  Or, perhaps, this season never closes, only morphs and changes.  Perhaps, I will always be their Mother Unit.  Perhaps, they will always need hugs. Or listening ears.  Or care packages!  Or someone to cheer them on.  To tell them how proud I am of them.

Perhaps, in time...they will need a babysitter.

My head sports a few gray hairs.  Not many, thanks to my stylist!  My body creaks a bit more than it once did.  And my parents are growing...tired...and needing support.

If I don't grow up...but perhaps...I am growing up.  In the middle of two generations.  Parenting on both sides.  The seasons are changing.  But perhaps, just in color.  Perhaps...they never totally change, but just like my hair..they sport new hues and new styles.  But they still work together to make One. 

 I still may need to figure out what to be...when I DO grow up.

Small Gifts

Ah...February.  The holidays have come and gone.  The decorations all packed away.  The company has ceased to come.  Coldness and grayness finds it's way into my home, and if I am not watchful, into my heart.

I'm learning a new trade.  It's called counting the small things.

The warmth that is billowing out of the wood stove.  The warm snuggly feeling under my bed-covers.  The sweet joy of holding a cup of hot liquid in my mouth a little bit longer.

Snuggling on the sofa with sweet hubby and precious teen-person.  The mouth watering aroma of home-baked bread.  Beauty of falling snow.  Earths' quietness under that fresh crisp blanket.

Another book read, just for pleasure!  A warm pot of soup simmering on the stove.  The satisfaction of knowing I made it myself.  The joy of glimpsing sun-beams streaming though.  

Clearance Sales at my favorite stores!  New recipes and time to try them.  A fun movie, and a favored one to see it with.  Extra time to sit with my Father.

A card tucked in the mail to a loved one.  A friend, calling to say "hello".  A "getting-married" daughter sharing excitement over a favorite cake topper.  The pretty colors on a favorite mug.

Small things.  But oh so big.  Blessings that I don't make time to count in the busy seasons.  One's that somehow, I just overlook.  Like they are not even there.  Yet, ...huge things.  Ones that some would so desire to change places with me for.

Father, teach me to count my blessings.  To name them, one by one.  So that I may find joy in my heart.  In the things that You have so richly blessed me with.  And that I may pass your joy and your thankfulness on to the fellow travelers in my journey.

Thank you so much for the small things.

Saturday Morning Blessings

I'm sitting in my quiet, wood-stove warmed living room this morning; in my snuggly new flannel pj's, with the sun streaming through all of the  windows, and the earth outside blanketed with a coat of freshly fallen snow.  The trees are all clothed in fresh, pure, ivory splendor, and as I look around, I feel like that this is a frozen moment in time.  Does it get any better than this?

My faithful and loving husband is still sleeping quietly in bed.  My five blessings are all home today to.  Father, how did I become so favored to get to this place in life?  Why did You choose to bless me, so very abundantly.  As I sit here, contemplating these questions,  I do hear the house beginning to stir.  I know that as it awakens, and people join in, things will get more hurried.  People will become more harried.  Yet, this year, my attitude has become that of joy.  I find joy in the fact that I am able to be too many places, and do too many things.  I find joy that I am able to join in this dance.  I choose joy.  And it is a choice.  For, when I might feel stressed or harried, if I allow my mind even a moment to say..."what is the alternative?"  ...to not be involved....to not have people depending on me...to not have things to do....to not have people to care about, love, take care of and mentor....  That sounds like a place I would never choose to be.  And so, in the quiet of this morning, before life begins in full swing, I relish a few minutes of quiet before the dance of life becomes a full waltz..  Because I have been given much, and much is expected of me.  So therefore, I choose to dance this dance called life.  With arms open wide, and head held high, as I savor these moments, and dance with the many people the Lord has placed in my path.  I shall laugh, and smile, and enjoy what I have been given.  For it is precious beyond measure, and truly a priceless treasure.

Off to put on my dancing shoes.