Christmas Eve will Find Me

This is probably one of the quietest Christmas eve's we've ever had. It was the most relaxing day-- we ate breakfast and played with some wonderful friends, watched movies for quiet time and then we took a little walk in down the puddle jumper trail.

I can mark their height by these trees and by how far they are able to run and jump down the trail. This was a really good way to get our energy out before Christmas Eve service too.


This looks like the middle of October not the end of December. What a warm winter we've been having-- no white Christmas for us!

A quiet morning, Christmas Miracle

I've been begging myself to write a mission statement for a while. But those four or five little guiding lines of text seem so daunting. I want something big, grandious, enveloping more than five lines of text.

Monday morning, the day after Christmas, I was awakened by a little lady with tears that would rival Alice in Wonderland, she could in fact have quietly cried her self an ocean. Leg cramps.

What do we do for leg cramps of this magnitude at 3:15 in the morning?

Throw them a party, of course. 

Snacks and warm milk. Soft blankets, Christmas tree lights and two hours of Shaun the Sheep. We ended the early morning with our hearts righted, our legs warm and pain free and snuggling ourselves to sleep.

Isabel woke up at regular time but my old lady body (and brain) needed a bit more time to sleep. Eric snuck away with the kids on an adventure and I woke up, not fifteen minutes after they're departure to an empty house.

And I escaped three houses down to our favorite coffee shop for some thinking, writing, reading and a few of my girlfriends showed up for quick hugs as they grabbed their cup of joe.

And so in three pages in the quiet corner of the coffee shop, a Christmas miracle occurred-- a mission statement. Not a mission 'statement'-- really. What was it? A mission story? Mission bullet points? Mission land-use-planning-manual for my own life?

I named in those pages, the things I'm grateful for, the things I know make our days easier, I named the things that make life not easy. And I took an inventory of where I'm at. Spiritually, emotionally, physically and now I have an easy way to remember where I'm going.


It seems for me every season needs a manifesto. Perhaps if mission statement can be more than that. A life manifesto.

Do you have a mission statement? Some guiding principles. Things you know that help you on your journey?

*Photo captainmcdan

Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year

On Christmas eve in a quiet kitchen I listened, "Ooooo Tidings of COMFORT and JOY, Comfort and joy!"

What if that was my goal for this year? Singing comfort and joy from the roof tops? What if we as a family under took this project?

I hope that these little words will spur on deep filling, all encompassing family joy-- hope inducing joy. And that as we give comfort to each other, to our loved ones, to our community and people we don't yet know.

Gratitude with out stretched arms-- singing commanding words through a tiny black box on the counter.

Comfort and joy.

Do you want to join me? Pick a word. And let it seep into your life this year.

I think...

(shhhhh... don't say this tooo loud) I think we're healthy. And I know that we are in need of a holiday.
I'm so glad that one is on the horizon. And since we won't be traveling this year (sad but true), we're going to do a few things together.

The kids want to make cookies, build a snow man (will we have snow?!?) and I want to go on a hike. Truman always puts on his very best for walks and hikes. I should find myself a walking cape and some hiking goggles. Or a tutu (see below).

What will you be up to for the holidays? More importantly, do you have a walking/hiking costume?

Peeking out from the fog...

As we drove Daddy to work this morning, there was fog all around us. Like a big cold, wet wool blanket-- and no visiblity except these dots of light peeking through.

And that is what I've felt like the last few weeks. Like there's hope of illness-free children, but it a small inadequate light drowned somewhere inside a tangled, wet, heavy, grey army blanket.

Ok, so maybe it's not so bad, but we've had ear infections, an un-named virus, the stomach flu--twice--, and most recently, strep. Five unexpected visits to the clinic and ER in five weeks.

So, I'm waving my white flag...

And I'll hold on to that little bit of hope + knock on my particle-board desk + send up a little  prayer. Along with daily vitamins, rest, chicken soup for our sleep-deprived souls.

And perhaps, in a few days I can tentatively, carefully announce: We're healthy.