A Messy Advent

The Advent season arrives on time, no matter the state of my readiness. 

I can't beg for just one more week tacked on the end 

of November--seven more days to declutter a pantry, 

lose the Thanksgiving pounds, and pen a 

comprehensive Christmas list. 

Instead, the season of celebrating the Incarnation rolls in, 

garbed in royal dignity, to adorn our humble home--

unconcerned with the state of my dining room table. 

The Spirit of Christmas, made manifest in a lowly manger, 

is not bothered by the chaos. 

So I'll stop to worship in the 

midst of real life, light the candle of HOPE, and 

gaze into the mystery of 

Emmanuel--

God with us. 

Invite Him into the middle of your mess and 

discover the real miracle of Christmas. 

 

Turkey Talk

 It's high time to put the turkeys back in the buffet 

drawer for another eleven months. 

After all, Christmas has already snuck out of the attic

 and laid claim to every room. 

But these tattered birds hold their ground on 

our Hoosier cabinet, reminding me that 

gratitude 

never goes out of season and isn't intended to be 

tucked away in the buffet.

Thanksgiving should be a daily holiday. 

(more here and here)

So in honor of the turkeys' clarion call, 

let's continue to give thanks. 

I'm grateful for sunshine through 

boldly painted sweetgum leaves.

The last nasturtium bloom 

to withstand the ever-dipping temperatures 

is the very picture of gratitude.

May we each brave the cold as well...

with thanks. 

Pondering the Season

Christmas is hanging out in my living room, 

trying its best to be shiny and bright. 

About 50% of the bubble lights are actually bubbling--not bad. 

Are there bubble light consultants? 

This might be the perfect seasonal side hustle.

1) Flick the glass stems--oh, so delicately, of course. 

2) Mutter, "Hmmm."

3) Unplug lights, wait 30 seconds, and turn them on again. 

4) Adjust glass stems to point directly at the ceiling

 and repeat steps 1- 3.

5) Collect $75.

Ginger cookies will be my main baked treat this year. 

There's nothing better to dunk in coffee.

Find the recipe and backstory here. 

THIS happened in November. 

I've spent a little bit of time figuring out how to sign a book--

a skill I didn't know existed. The one below is for 

a dear friend to gift to her brother's dogs. How fun is that?

You can check it out here.

At the end of the day--any day of the year--it's really about this.

Pondering the Incarnation and all its beauty is enough to 

fill every moment of the season. 

 

Buckeye Bliss

Peanut butter balls—buckeyes—are a Christmas favorite. 

If you have access to real buckeyes, you 

probably should not get a kick out of placing a few of those in the 

candy tin with these delicious peanut-butter-and-chocolate ones.

I wouldn't dream of showing up at a holiday gathering without 

a generous collection of these for the dessert table. 

It's easy to make these ahead and hide them in a 

cool spot until it's time to share. 

Good luck with that. 

After making these for decades, I'm happy to share more 

detailed directions for a double batch—my standard.

- Combine softened butter, peanut butter, and sugar to 

form a stiff dough.

- Roll into 1" balls and place on a waxpaper-covered cookie sheet.

- Chill in the freezer for about 15 minutes.

- While you wait, melt one square of candy wax in a double boiler until clear, then add two bags of dark chocolate morsels. Stir until smooth.

- With a toothpick, dip chilled balls in melted chocolate. 

- Store in the refrigerator so you get a nice snap when you take a bite.

It's all about the snap, folks. 

Enjoy!

*****

If you make these, I'd love to see you with your finished product!

Share them and tag me on Instagram. 

 

Teetering toward Christmas

It's commonly thought the main purpose of an Advent house 

like this one is to bring daily delight to tiny drawer-openers. 

But I think it might be to 

s l o w   d o w n 

the season.

Without one of these, my December has flown by, and 

I find myself teetering unsteadily on the doorstep of Christmas. 

The decorations are up and shiny bright.

I've grabbed a few chapters of this to  

enlighten and encourage my spirit. 

But I find myself needing more time to ponder the manger. 

While I go do that, here are two Christmas posts from the 

person I used to be—a mom with little boys to entertain over 

a long Christmas break. 

Christmas Conversations - 

Ask your littles what they think about some holiday topics. 

Questions included.

 Christmas Risk -

Risk and win points by answering Christmas questions (included).

 

A Place to Rest

 I think I've finally given up on grappling my way into a familiar Christmas season. 

2020 is going to be contrarily consistent all the way to its very last day. 

This, though, remains the same—year after year, age to age. 

The Word became flesh and dwelt among us. 

Immanuel, Christ WITH us. 

And that, friends, is a safe place to rest as 2021 sweeps in.

Something to read here and here. 

Something to soak up here. 

Something funny here. 

Handmade Gifts

How do you feel about handmade gifts? 

I've always hesitated to gift my own creations, believing them to be a little bit "less than."

Less valued than store-bought; less useful than a gift card; 

less dazzling than whatever the most popular social influencer recommends--"swipe up!"

But this year, I'm feeling some freedom to give handmade. 

So this morning I handled brittle antique sheet music and forced 

myself to cut it, recalling how the pages were rescued from the trash. 

Folding tattered edges into shape took extra time, but I didn't mind, 

envisioning the final lovely outcome.

I shrugged aside qualms and pushed a wooden brace through 

centenarian page layers, taking care not to waste a single scrap of print.

 

That's when phrases from Psalm 103 slid into the corner of my heart.

God forms you in the same way, the Spirit seemed to hint. 

"For He knows our frame; He is mindful that we are dust." 

He knows you're often fragile, brittle, tattered.

"As for man ... your days are like grass--blooming, vanishing, forgotten."

Yet He tenderly chooses you anyway, knowing the potential for glory exists. 

"But from everlasting to everlasting the loving devotion 

of the LORD extends to those who fear Him."

In unmatched patience, He shapes, folds, and fashions you into the 

image of the blessing He intends to gift to others.

" ... we are God's handiwork, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, 

which God prepared in advance for us to do." 

(Ephesians 2:10)

And just like the psalmist, my soul rose up in joy. 

Bless the Lord ... bless the Lord ... bless the Lord.

It's Married

Touring an art museum with a little one is an adventure not to be missed. 

Especially at Christmas. 

(whispered conversation, of course)

"Look there—do you see Baby Jesus?"

"Yes!"

"And who's that with him?" 

"Married."

Almost Ready

I'm almost ready for this. 

And this—the Christmas Eve Spoons game.

I know ... it can get a little bit violent. Great-Grandma's pedestal table 

rocks and sways when cookie-drunk players grab the closest spoon. 

If you've never played here are the directions.

And here's a video example, but these people remain seated almost all the time.

Not enough cookies.

If, in the hustle and bustle of the holidays, 

you find your heart unprepared for Christmas, 

here's a link to Advent messages from John Piper.
He applies the most unexpected Bible passages to the Advent season. 

They're short, and you can listen or read them.

Lord at Thy Birth

Silent night, holy night,
Son of God, love's pure light;
Radiant beams from thy holy face,
With the dawn of redeeming grace,
Jesus, Lord, at thy birth.
Jesus, Lord, at thy birth.

Whether we acknowledge it or not, it's still true.

If we choose to bow before Him or not, He's still King.

So let's approach the Lord like the shepherds did back then—

in the company of others,

making our way to Him in a hurry,

undistracted by the cares of career, 

eager to tell others the Christmas good news.

Who Knew?

Just a glimpse—that's what I long for at Christmas time. 

A flash of nativity glow, one whiff of sacred stable air. 

What would it have been like to witness the incarnation?

We often imagine Mary and Joseph going it alone in a cozy, well-lit barn 

scene, but it's possible that there were many who observed 

at least a few moments of the event—an unreported, unnoticed crowd of gawkers.

I think it's likely that Mary's plight drew the attention of other

female travelers. Maybe one of them was drawn into the 

scene to act as midwife to the untried young woman, mother to the Son of God. 

Lodgers from the over-crowded inn probably heard Mary's birthing 

groans and winced, then talked a little bit louder to drown out the sound.

Perhaps humble barn boys, busily tending pack animals and supplying livestock, 

were the very first to hear the cries of the newborn king. 

November Treasures

2017 is almost over and nature is giving notice. 

It's time to plow deep into the soil of this mostly-passed year 

and hunt for nuggets of GRATITUDE that churn to the top.

Those are the true unfading November treasures.

***

Meditating on a Thanksgiving psalm helps me focus on this season 

and resist being drawn into the next holiday too early. 

I'm trying to memorize Psalm 100 by Thanksgiving Day. 

Would you join me? 

Three versions here.

Various teachings on this chapter here.

Building and Crushing

We used to build these, only to crush them a few weeks later.

I think this one's from 2010—so long since I huddled 

with my school-age sons around this edible architecture project.

The traditional house smashing on New Year's Eve was always hard for me, 

although the guys could hardly wait for that part. 

Children have less trouble letting go than adults, I think.

What will we build in 2017? 

How much of our work will be crushed and swept into the garbage?

What will survive to nourish and bring good pleasure to those around us? 

Please join me to prayerfully consider what will be built in 2017, 

in our lives and in the lives of those we love.

To ponder - Psalm 127:1

Unless the LORD builds a house, the work of the builders is wasted.

An Unexpected Gift

We took our tribe of guys, their friends, and some older family members out 

on a gray, blustery day to see a Christmas program. 

The auditorium was packed full, and the seats we finally claimed were on the extreme right 

edge of the stage. By the time we finished shuffling our elders to the better seats, 

I had no view of the set at the back of the stage at all, but a decent view of the stage itself. 

Circumstances were not ideal, if you get my drift. 

The house lights went down, the play began, and my heart was tossed right into a hurricane.

The music, the props, the movement ... I was swept, unanchored, into the drama of the incarnation.

My neighbors to the left and right—unaffected.

Those in the rows around me rustled and shuffled as you would expect, but I was 

bolted in my seat, blanketed by a downy heaviness, the very last thing I 

expected to experience. 

I'm not unfamiliar with what happened. 

In the old-time church circles of my youth, they'd say, 

"The Holy Ghost was strong in the house today!"

I came away refreshed and almost raw, with a newly circumcised heart—

a precious Christmas gift from my heavenly Father. 

Have you ever had a similar experience? 

I'd love to hear about it.

Quite a Trick

The Christmas tree is up and trimmed. 

It's our tradition to slug all the holiday containers down from the attic, order 

Chinese food, and decorate the tree and house in one evening

with It's a Wonderful Life playing in the background.

My family's favorite part of this might be the egg rolls.

But this year, I sensed an undertone that surprised me. 

Turns out I wasn't the only one to figure out that this is our last holiday like all those 

that came before. I knew it, of course—our Oldest is on the brink of buying a home of 

his own, our Second is getting married in the spring, and our Youngest is off to college 

next fall. Yes, for sure, next Christmas will be very different. 

And it seemed that each of us paused for just a moment and nodded to that fact.

One of the tricks of parenting adults and almost-adults, I think, must be 

to spend more time anticipating what's to come than clinging to what's passed by. 

Not an easy trick, my friends, especially with a bellyful of shrimp lo mein.

Thanksgiving Hopes

A house fire of mold swept the interior of our Tiny House pumpkin-carving contest entry.

Just another sign that Halloween is long gone, friends, and Thanksgiving is upon us.

A turkey is nesting in my refrigerator, taking up way too much room.

My Middle Son asked for his favorite "McDonald's dressing," and I'll make it, 

just because it makes the house smell wonderful. 

What about a Thanksgiving stuffing scented candle instead of vanilla frosting? 

Chicken pot pie in a tall pillar candle instead of peach cobbler? 

Anyone?

I hope conversation this Thanksgiving will be filled with love—the 

kind of love that jumps over high fences of social and political issues 

for a hearty kiss and hug on the welcome mat.

I hope to enjoy simple, catching-up questions like, 

"How is your work?" 

"What do you put in these green beans?" 

"Did your gardens close well?"

and "What are you reading?"

May our conversations be seasoned with remember-when laughter 

and not spoiled by the angry rehash of 2016 headlines.

It may prove too much to hope for, but ... I plan to do my part. 

Will you? 

You will be enriched in every way to be generous in every way, 

which through us will produce thanksgiving to God.

2 Corinthians 9:11

More Thanksgiving thoughts here.

Umbrella Lights

Umbrella lights that blink on just as the sky turns dusky-dark blue 

- dreamy!

I wonder what the fireflies think about 

this new backyard feature ...

Everyday Celebrations

I know some of you would be horrified at the carbon "footprint" my household 

stomps into the earth. Especially during large family gatherings.

When we host the entire tribe of extended family, I break out the paper 

plates, plastic forks and styrofoam cups. 

(sigh) I'm not proud of it, but there it is. I'd like to list all my excuses, but I'll spare you.

But look what I scored at a recent yard sale:

Vintage "pressed glass" goblets in all colors of the rainbow!

The home owner was selling the contents of her mother-in-law's

 home to pay for her stay in an assisted living facility.
"We have to pay a little extra, doncha know, because Mama needs her hair done every Friday."

Her mother-in-law is 103 years old.

My husband and I admired the collection, but drove away, only to return an hour later to 

scoop up what was left. We purchased nineteen goblets and contributed a 

little extra for Mamma's hair needs.

It seemed appropriate to store them in our Hoosier cabinet. 

When I open the doors, it just looks like a party in there. 

I've resolved to use these every time we host a family gathering. My younger self 

would have kept these only for good, only for the very best occasions. 

But now that I'm (ahem) older, wisdom urges me forward with the earned understanding

that every gathering qualifies as the very best occasion, and

every single family dinner is an occasion to celebrate with 

fancy, rainbow-colored, antique goblets.