All I want for Christmas... is a Kitchen Remodel

 

When I asked my husband for a kitchen remodel this Christmas, I never intended him to do it in time for Christmas.  What with homeschooling, Christmas planning, guests descending, present buying, sanity desiring...  But today, exactly two weeks before Christmas morning, five days before my oldest child turns eleven, seven days before his party, and eight days until our Christmas guests come for the holidays, a team of men is here in my home, demolishing every square inch of my kitchen.  Right now.  As I type this out.

Joy to the wold

Christmas carols on the radio are doing their best to cover the sounds of splintering wood, plastic and plaster, and the banging of forty year old appliances being ripped from their home.  My home.

Silent Night

Silent night is playing now and I'm laughing.  It's just too soft and tender to cover the sledge-hammers hammering.  Noise is rising high and chaotic from the kitchen space that once held my kitchen, and I can hear it all.  So I turn off my radio in time to hear the singing.  One construction worker is singing it now...

Feliz Navidad

... from the bottom of his heart.  And it blesses mine.  Because while I could be a stressful-grump, bah-humbugging my way through these dusty loud days, I'm choosing to join my husband in the gift.  Not exactly how I wanted it delivered in these last days before Christmas, but focusing instead on the giver.  My sweet man.  With all his impulsive purchasing and celebrating and decorating, I can choose to hermit myself up and cover his little bit of crazy and his whole lot of love, here in my room.  Or I can join in with him in the chaos and sing at his side...

FaLaLaLaLa

LaLaLaLa...

I'm choosing to sing.  And in the singing I'm seeing the blessings.  Not just enjoying my husband's generous heart and enthusiasm, but finding joy in not cooking this week.  For exactly one intense week of new cabinets, countertops, and appliances, I will not be planning, cooking, cleaning.  Sure there will be laundry, and the incessant dusting one does during a kitchen remodel, but I'm not cooking for seven whole days!

This weary mom rejoices!

Instead I will use my time and creativity to finish the cards and the wrapping, and to sit on the couch each evening to watch Christmas movies and read Christmas stories with my family.  And as the men lay my green countertops and hook up brand new appliances, I'll be planning my menus, my recipes, my grocery list for the cooking and baking and eating and merry-making to come.

It's the most wonderful time of the year!

So here's what I'm thinking and planning and dreaming... here are the ingredients I'll be shopping for when the cabinets are in and the countertops are ready for dough to be rolled out thin and white with sugar.  I'm thinking a beef roast this year, with carmelized sweet potatoes and buttered green beans.  There will be a turkey breast too and dressing, apple sauce and cranberries.  And deserts.  Cut out cookies for decorating with the children, and a chocolate pecan pie, and ice cream and coffee and tea with too much cream and sugar.

I'll be home for Christmas

If the kitchen remodel comes together, I'll be here at home this Christmas, loving on my family and teaching them over and over again about our generous God who sent us Jesus.  And if this remodel falls apart and we're eating cold cereal beside a hot fire... I'll be loving on my family and teaching them over and over again about our generous God who sent us Jesus.  And our friends... the ones who are joining us from halfway around the world this Christmas, they may be passing the granola and drinking out of juice boxes around the fireplace too.  But however this goes, I'm choosing to celebrate Jesus with my loved ones each dusty day!

Remodel updates forthcoming!

(Stay tuned)

Want to know why I was petrified to light the Advent candle last Sunday?

I was the one upfront last Sunday, looking so put together next to my husband and our three boys, all five of us coordinated. When the choir finished "Hark the Herald Angels Sing" we took the steps behind the pastor, then gathered round the advent wreath waiting for our cue.  The boys were still as stone.  I didn't dare breath.

Then came the moment Pastor Scott said our name and the ten year old began reading Matthew 1:18-24, how the Holy Spirit had come to Mary and she conceived the Savior of the world. His high pitched voice rang clear as his childlike faith. The nine year old brother went to light the candle, but it was too high so I took the lighter and did it for him and gave him a kiss, like an apology.  That's when I noticed the smile.  First his, then mine, and before I knew it I saw my husband smiling down at our six year old who was praying, also grinning, telling God how thankful he is for our church and everyone there that morning. Then he thanked God for sending us Jesus, Amen.

Amen and it was done.

We walked back down to our little pew, rustling hair and patting backs for a job well done. We were smiling and the congregation gave their smiles back to us.  So I finally took a deep breath, and a tear rolled fat and heavy down my cheek because I had been SURE my kids were going to burn the church down that morning - which really isn't far-fetched, for those of you who know our boys.

We didn't have extended family with us and all of our close friends from church were in their Sunday School classes or helping in the children's ministry during that service.  So, I asked a complete stranger to take my camera and snap a few photos of our family that morning.  So thankful he said yes and thankful for this captured moment with smiles, because all this threatened to come undone the night before.

They'd had a miserable night with a babysitter as my husband and I enjoyed a long overdue date night.  One boy in particular was making mischief, riling up another; both of them wide awake when we came home at 10:30pm.  How they cried when they saw us pull up and into the drive.  Tearfull they promised, "But we were trying to be good."

The baby sitter looking surprised.

When I left to drive our sitter home I watched my husband from the rear view mirror turn from the porch and walk inside.  His shoulders sagged heavy and low. I kept apologizing as I drove the dark streets.  By the time I returned home I felt like an utter failure, then I felt mad, then I wanted chocolate.

I found my man in our bathroom.  For a while we stood side by side at the counter brushing teeth and scrubbing our faces with extra vigor.  When we tucked in together beneath the covers he gently asked, "How can we stand up there tomorrow morning like our family has it all together?"

"Grace, " the word came fast.  "Grace."

It was the Christiany thing to say, so he shrugged in agreement and tugged for more blankets because weary hearts need comfort.  After another disgruntled moment he went on, "I feel like their consequence should be that they can't go up on stage and light the advent candle tomorrow but I know that's wrong."

"Grace," I said it again.  "God didn't come because our kids are perfect.  He came because of sin.  Our little sinners are the perfect people to read about a Savior, to thank God for His gift of salvation, and to let their light shine because they've been saved."

"But God demonstrates His own love toward us, in that while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us." - Romans 5:8

If you were in our church last Sunday morning, or any church for that matter where a mom and dad and a couple kids in red velvet dresses, patent leather shoes, argyle sweater vests or khaki pants stood up front to light the advent candle, and you felt less than worthy because your family isn't so put together... know deep down deep that we are all just sinners saved by Grace.  None of us deserving.  All of us forgiven.

Every one of us loved.  Every one of us a walking talking testimony of why Jesus came to earth.  

"For God so loved the world, that He gave His one and only son, that whoever believes in Him will not perish but have everlasting life." - John 3:16

You are perfectly flawed.  Light  the candle and let your light shine.

Your kids are perfectly flawed.  Light the candle and let your light shine.

Your marriage is perfectly flawed.  Light the candle and let your light shine.

Your childhood was perfectly flawed.  Light the candle and let your light shine.

Your present circumstances are perfectly flawed.  Light the candle and let your light shine.

"For you were once darkness, but now you are light in the Lord.

Live as children of light."  - Ephesians 5:8

 ...and Shine

Expectant - a guest post

I was a very young woman when the realization came upon me, that this Christian life ought to be lived EXPECTANTLY.  Single and struggling with contentment, the word stuck.  In all the aches and crevices, I knew my God was kind, and deep within my bones I held the blessed assurance of His eternal nearness, and so, I came to expect good and not evil from His hand each day.  Even when I could not perceive the good I began to expect it.  

Expect it.  Expectant.

ex·pect·ant / ikˈspektənt/  (adjective) having or showing an excited feeling that something is about to happen, especially something pleasant and interesting.  (noun) a person who anticipates receiving something, especially high office.

It's an adjective, an experience, a way of life; living this way, with hope and sweet anticipation.  But it's a noun too, a person, with eyes upturned and heart inclined.

Expecting.

It is also the word we choose to describe a woman, getting ready to receive into her heart and home a newborn babe.

Expectant.

Today, I am pleased to introduce you to my friend, Julie Sanders, who has devoted page after page and prayer after prayer to this latter definition, the expecting mother.  However, today amidst the Christmas season, Julie is helping us each to slow down and take a lesson from Mary - the expectant mother of our Lord.

 Welcome to this Living Room space, Julie Sanders

No experience has the power to stir a woman’s hopes like that of becoming a mother. Whether she enters in through adoption, infertility, or traditional pregnancy, a mother learns to sacrifice her expectations for the gift of raising a child. Instead of being paralyzed by the sudden uncertainty motherhood brings, confidence can be found in knowing, “There will never be a time when our children are out of God’s sight or apart from His presence,” (from EXPECTANT, Calling the Shots). Every journey is unique, but every heart is expectant.

Her betrothal was still fresh when her expectations dissolved in the light of the angel’s arrival. To be old enough to be promised was to be mature enough to bear a child. Before Mary even had time to adjust to changes in her own body or warm up to the name “Joseph,” everything she anticipated fell away. There would be no joyous gathering of girlhood friends, envious of her new status. None of the other girls wanted to swell with a child before uniting with a husband.

At the first sign of a change, Mary was troubled and frightened. She had questions. Before she had time to learn the physical ways of womanhood or enjoy intimacy with a man, her body would be taken over for purposes bigger than she could conceive.  “And the angel said to her, ‘Do not be afraid, Mary, for you have found favor with God. ‘”(Luke 1:30)

Most of us have plans for this Christmas season. No one anticipates interruptions like job loss or a life lost. Unexpected events never appear on our wish list. Advent readings rarely dwell on our suffering. But when our expectations are erased and our decisions dissolve, God has the opportunity to display His grander plan. He takes our hand, leading us to unwelcoming inns, simple stable accommodations, and to exile in our Egypts. Our Father lets us glimpse the greater glory found when life encircles the Prince of Peace.

Motherhood causes our expectations to fall away. From the moment young Mary received her angelic message, nothing unfolded as she imagined, but she found the greater glory in God’s greater plan. “But Mary treasured up all these things, pondering them in her heart.” (Luke 2:19)

We must hold loosely to our expectations, for Christmas will probably not be according to our plans. Let’s look for God’s greater glory with hearts that are expectant.

Father God, I want to treasure Your actions in my life that bring about the glory of being part of Your story. Help me hold my expectations loosely and welcome your better plans for me.

Julie lives where tea is sweet and grits are cheesy. She and her husband of 25 years have two nearly grown kids. EXPECTANT: 40 Devotions for New and Expectant Moms was born when God brought a group of young couples into their lives, just as they began to long to grow their families. Julie loves to teach God’s word to women in her hometown and across the globe; she is passionate about fighting human trafficking and helping women of all tribes and tongues find God’s peace for life. Check out Julie’s blog home Come Have a Peace  (www.juliesanders.org) and Marriage Mondays to find reasons for peace and information about her ministry. EXPECTANT is available at Barnes & Noble and Amazon. Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/ComeHaveaPeace Twitter: @JulieSanders_ Pinterest: http://www.pinterest.com/juliesanders_/

Nativity Sets let my children touch Jesus

 

There are seasons when the decorating and the shopping, the planning and parties all upstage the Christ child of Christmas.  And it could have happened here this year, had my children not reminded me on the very first Sunday of Advent.  I awoke to the soft sound of whispers, the songs of little people and their laughter.  Coming from my bedroom I found them there beneath the tree, setting up our nativity sets. All of them.

My mother had an elegant nativity when I was young, it was pure white, with many large ceramic pieces. She set it out in groups around our living room. The manger with Mary, Joseph and baby Jesus, a donkey and a cow, there upon the fireplace mantel. Then on the bookshelf nearby were the shepherds and their sheep. On the coffee table, looking up, were the wise men with their camels. Green pine branches and tall red candles completed each scene.

nativity: noun, the process of being born

Merriam-Webster

How right and good to refer to the story of Jesus' birth as "The Nativity."  The birth.  Because through his coming, this one birth, we all have access to a Spiritual rebirth.  Salvation.  The process of being born... again.  And I love that it's a noun; the decoration on your mantelpiece and the history-splitting, redemptive moment a Savior came to earth.

In our home we have multiple Nativities. One made from the wood of an olive tree grown and carved in Jerusalem.  Then there's my childhood Precious Moments set.  A small, hand painted Mary and Child, given to my by my Sister-in-law.  And the well-worn Little People set my children have loved and touched every year of their lives.  Each Nativity set is held and carried like a Holy plaything, then reconfigured in another corner of our home each day.  Little hands touching and knowing Jesus.

It is good it is to let our children touch each piece and set them up again and again.  It was hard for me at first, giving them ownership of my cherished, breakable Nativities (wanting to limit my children to their Little plastic People) but then I realized that there's nothing I want more for my children than for them to take ownership of their relationship with my Jesus.  To make Him their own.  And to be His.

So I've stopped the stopping and started celebrating each time they touch His manger and the star.  Praying, always praying, that Jesus would touch them right back.

 nativity: noun, the process of being born

Just give thanks

So many blog posts and magazine articles floating around this week.  Well-intentioned admonitions to give thanks deeply, creatively.  We are inspired to live these glory days of Thanksgiving beautifully, modeling this extravagant full-heart gratitude for our children. And then we feel the pressure to document it too, add a filter and a Bible verse and share it on Instagram with a few hundred of our closest friends "to encourage them."  

Don't get me wrong, sometimes sharing and tweeting and passing it along is simply an overflow... but other times it's not.  Sometimes we're just busy living our Thanksgiving in the everyday ways, with shirt sleeves rolled up, and that's okay too.

There are holidays when we're just doing life - real life - good life - with store bought cranberry sauce.  Serving up Pillsbury pre-made sugar cookies and a pie from Marie Calendar's with a can of Redi-Whip.  Because not every holiday is glamorous, and no amount of cropped, filtered, uploaded graphics can make it anything other than what it is. Real. Life. With happy, dirty kids out in the backyard wearing their everyday clothes.

Here we are, only a few days before Thanksgiving, and I have half a dozen blog posts I started and then never finished because I've been doing Thanksgiving school parties, making little party-favors with pretzels and candy corn and a simple ribbon curled up around a bow.  Too many crafts and errands and sporting events to fit one complete blog post in.  And tomorrow morning we're leaving for a little family vacation before arriving at my mom's house for Thanksgiving Day. So I'm doing a few more loads of laundry tonight, and as the dryer hums and the washing machine spins here in my laundry room / office, I'm Thankful that I'm not spinning.  So Thankful, in fact, that I went in and deleted each and every half-written Thanksgiving Day post I'd started.  Instead I'm just going to tell you and me both this simple truth.

Be Thankful....

Wherever you are - Whomever you are with - Whatever you've accomplished, or didn't accomplish - The groceries that have been bought and the recipes that you've decided to let slide - The family and friends you will see and those you won't be able to fit into your holiday plans this year... Be Thankful. This is your Thanksgiving Day pass to just give thanks.

Pass it on...