Christmas is for stopping. It's the time when all around the world, people get quiet in that late hour. Some are at church singing by candlelight. Some are at home with decaf coffee. Some are at home with wine:) Some may still be traveling. But Christmas Eve seems quieter to me than any other night of the year. It's one of my favorite times. After all the rushing (which I personally do not mind. You know Mary was feeling rushed 9 months preggo on a d*mn donkey looking for a place to get down and start birthing the SAVIOR! Hello!), the wrapping, the frantically finishing work early for family time, the partying, the cooking, after all that, comes the quiet. I welcome this quiet. If I don't get to adequately experience it, Christmas doesn't feel fulfilled. It's the time when I look at all the material gifts under the tree and I think about how I don't need them. I like them; I just don't need them. I think about how I am so incredibly blessed already, and how I have every day what I particularly cherish on Christmas Eve. And I think of those that are alone, or cold, or hungry, or both. And I wonder how they feel. Those without Christ and those with Christ. How do they feel? Those of us with battle scars already experience a bit of the melancholy on holidays. It is what it is. But do those with no one, with nothing, realize they also get an invitation to the gift? The biggest gift? Do they feel it could make a difference? Really make a difference? And do I, as one who feels blessed, who feels that He does make a difference, do my part to make those without feel that difference too? Do those that are hurting in a physical way that I cannot understand feel the quiet the way I feel the quiet? How do I give someone that gift? That gift of quiet on Christmas Eve that feels, yes, heavy in some ways, but hopeful? Quiet hope. How do I give that? Because if we are to give and be an example for Christ, wouldn't that be a good start? Quiet hope. Quiet. Hope.

Moving

When we moved to Columbia five years ago, we had lived in Aiken for five years and had made friends and found a church and a house we loved and and and... We had our babies in Aiken- well, technically at the Augusta hospital because that was where my doctor was waiting for me. Anyway, we were attached for many sentimental firsts in life to a beautiful place called Aiken. But we left for the hope of moving forward with Michael's career. We ended up in a five year detour for his career, and a five year lesson in patience for our future. However, again we made friends and found a church and the kids grew and started school and they made friends and like their teachers and and and...

Now we are moving to Rock Hill. And I feel sad, and excited for our future. I feel more wisely confident in this move. I felt confident in the move to Columbia because I had lived in Columbia before and I was naive enough to think I had it all under control. This time I don't know anything about Rock Hill, though I've heard lots of good things. This time I am cautious in my statements, though I am positive as well. This time, because Michael and I are both nervous about the upheaval a move can put on a family and because we are nervous about making the wrong gamble career wise all over again, God let us know we are in his hands. He showed us our decision is the right decision. He calmed my worry. He didn't make moving easier, but He did make my confidence in moving and in Him stronger.

Michael and I had to decide whether for him to take this new job opportunity or wait for something else. We prayed about it and talked about it for months leading up to an offer. My emotions had already been on a roller coaster ride, and by the time the offer finally came I felt at peace with the decision to move forward to Rock Hill in faith. Sometimes God just wants you to make a decision. He'll work with you no matter, just darn decide! Other times there is a clear path He is leading you towards, but again, if you get it wrong, He's still there for you. Rock Hill felt right. But ultimately, we were moving on in faith. So, Michael gave notice at his job here in Columbia. And guess what? They were relieved. Not upset. They were getting ready to announce another round of lay offs. That would be the third round in a year. Rock Hill suddenly sounded a whole lot prettier.

Here's the thing. I am grateful for the clarity that our decision was right. We needed encouragement after so many unclear decisions and detours. I am thankful Michael and I were saved from a painful job loss. And I sat down and wept in relief and in great sadness for those we know both at his current job and friends in the community who are having to take that road. Who have lost their jobs. And in that weeping, it made me wonder, why did we get saved? Because we'd already been there and done that? What are God's plans? I don't understand. Not in the least. But I am grateful to Him. He's been there for us when we did walk that road, and He's with us now on our new adventure. I do at least know that.

Norman

(This entry is in honor of Ministry Appreciation Month on incourage.me)

Norman is this man at my church who wears a suit and tie every week. He hands out bulletins and helps with snacks. He smiles at you when you walk by, but he's quiet. And Norman is one of the big reasons lots of families all over Columbia have ended up staying at our church. Turns out Norman is not only a helper in snack organization; he is also the weekly provider. Norman goes out every week and he buys chips, and trail mix, and cookies (lots and lots of cookies), and sweet rolls, and brownies, and other delicate pastries, and coffee creamer, and sugar, and juice, and all the pieces that make up Sunday morning fellowship. He doesn't get reimbursed. He just does it. The spread is amazing, and the kids are happy. We visited lots of churches. Some had pretzels, some had cookies, some had juice, but none had it all. Except our church. And it's OUR church because the first Sunday we visited, my kids didn't want to leave. And they didn't want to visit anywhere else again. And we haven't.

We did go to church out of town once. They didn't have any snacks at all. The kids almost cried. The sermon? Well, now, how can you hear that when your kids keep looking for the juice? They missed Norman. They missed their double chocolate gourmet sandwich consisting of two double chocolate cookies held together with a pound of icing and rolled in sprinkles.

Talk about gathering the flock. Norman has gathered several. And none of us ever want to leave.

Miracles (and sillybands)

The past five or six days have been a whirlwind of activity. We went to the beach, played at the pool, visited with family, came home, got up and went to three soccer games - two were 100 miles away - came home, got up again and went to church, a birthday party, and a marriage class to round out the weekend. Exhausting. But it isn't always like this. There are weekends with quiet and house work and raking and pot roasts and afternoon naps. And I like having both types of weekends; the change keeps me on my toes. And in the middle of this very busy weekend, I realized miracles had been occurring and I had been too busy to see them. So God made it very clear that he was there in a cute and whimsical way. I was walking on the beach with my boys when Kelly asked for his silly band animal bracelets that I had been carrying in my pocket. I pulled them out and gave them to him. I inadvertently dropped a yellow one in the water as we had this exchange and it washed away. Kelly was upset that now he was one silly band less, and that it was gone forever. A little while later we stopped, the boys played in the sand and the surf, and I went to sit in dry sand to pray. I needed quiet time to spill out my thoughts with God, and in the midst of my prayers, I asked for miracles. I asked for miracles big and small that those of us busy and overwhelmed may feel Him. I asked for miracles big and small for those that didn't know He existed that they may feel Him. I asked for miracles because people simply like miracles. They are fun and wonderment. When all of us had had our time on the beach, we walked home. And as we were turning to walk up to the boardwalk, Kelly's yellow sillyband washed up in the surf and stopped in the wet sand right at our feet. And I told my boys about my prayer for miracles and asked them what they thought about that. And we all giggled in delight at God's sweet gesture. And that gesture has made me see Him all around me in the midst of busyness. We are not alone. And it feels good.

Hoarding

Michael and I have been morosely fascinated the last few nights by a tv show called, "Hoarders: Buried Alive" on TLC. It is quite disturbing, and each of these people is visibly mentally ill in some way. Essentially these people were already shoppers and a bit cluttery when something traumatic happened in their lives. Daily living became overwhelming, and when they finally woke up from their grief and their walking coma, they didn't know how to move forward. Most of these people are so attached to their things they get downright nasty towards the loved ones and the special crews brought in to help them.

So last night on the couch, Michael turns to me and says, "These people need Jesus. I mean, what would he say to them if he walked into their mess? He'd say you need me. Just me. This stuff, this mess, is just stuff. I am what matters. Me, and your faith in me, and the people here on this Earth that make up your community. That is all you need." My sweet, sweet husband. He's thinking about Jesus, saying intelligent thoughts, while I'm still trying to get over the extent of these people's environment.

Well, the point to all this is, do I hoard? I mean, I started to make comments, when Michael stopped me to say that just because their mental illness was clearly more visible, it didn't mean the rest of us were model citizens of mental health. He did agree he wouldn't be as sweet about it all as the counselors on tv were acting. Michael also said that's why he's not a counselor. He would have just brought a hose and a commercial size broom. And that would not have worked.

Anyway, I don't think I hoard, but I do know if I was told to throw it all away, I would struggle. And I do have a few issues. We all do. And I am more thankful than ever for the disciples...

Josh and Jennifer

I am the youngest. By, oh, about twenty years. I am the, "Oh My God, I thought we had taken care of that, there's no way, I'm.... what!!!" Which means that by the time I came along and started my life, I had four older siblings, the oldest two being 18 and 20. I have never lived with them, since they were off at college by the time I learned to smile, much less sit up or talk. The other two siblings had the distinct pleasure of helping raise me in those early years, since they were 16 and 12.

Leaving lots unspoken about this entire situation, by the time I was seven, my oldest brother was getting married. And he married Donna, a woman who already had two children. Josh and Jennifer. From the age of seven on, I was an aunt with a nephew one year younger and a niece two years younger. We grew up together, acting out roles more like cousins than anything. As we ventured out into the big wide world, we went in different directions. They have both pursued art careers in New York and have succeeded. I pursued teaching and then, in family tradition, a surprise case of motherhood. And while we are all grown up and on our own paths I have to say I am quite proud to be related to them. It's fun watching them mature as artists, and their works are just beautiful. And I'm not just saying that so if I ever get to NY I have two places to stay!

For those of you interested in painting and photography, give them a looksee. It will be well worth your time.

Joshua Brown - photographer
www.weddingsbyjoshuabrown.com
http://imjoshuabrown.com

Jenna Gribbon - painter
http://jennagribbon.com

A Miracle for St. Cecelia's

I am reading a book, A Miracle for St. Cecelia's, by Katherine Valentine. For those that loved the Mitford series by Jan Karon, this is the Catholic version. It's wonderful. I am telling you this because in these sweet books comes some of the best advice.

"Nonsense. God will not abandon His people, or you or Father Keene. As with all great trials, there is a powerful lesson hidden in this seemingly rocky path. But to discover it, you must walk it. You can't go around it, or pray your way out of it."

"God has not turned His face away from your needs, Jimmy. Neither has He refused to provide for those needs. His silence is simply the backdrop used to highlight the gifts He will surely bring."

We all have our stuff going on, and it is easy to center the world around our issues. I have enjoyed taking a break from my daily naggings in my head to read about Father James. These lines spoke to me, and I wanted to share them with you. Hope you enjoyed!