Christmas

i feel that i am walking through the nativity story with my home.  we have travelled from the peace of our house being in the constant state of immaculate perception, through the travail of sale, and into the chaos of moving!  from darkness to light, uncertainty to certainty.  what an appropriate time of year to feel God's nearness and care, his miraculous provision, his unshaking faithfulness.

christmas day was a whirl, not a moment to sit - unless i was building legos or making crafts or EATING or spending time with family.  who's to complain?  but i did not get a chance to sit and contemplate and wonder.  thankfully, i did get many chances to do so throughout the season of advent - one more reason to celebrate a season rather than a day.  anyways, here's some poetry for you, consider it a present.

Today you see in a stable
the Word speechless,
Greatness in smallness,
Immensity in blankets.
such wonders!...

He who had no beginning,
his being of Time begins;
the Creator, as a creature,
is now subject to our griefs.
such wonders!
(Sor Juana Ines de la Cruz, "Carol 3," Mexican, seventeenth century)

one moment from the last few weeks that really moved me was at (of all places) my daughter's Christmas assembly.  here, in a room of 700 or so children and staff of all faith backgrounds, these words are sung loud and strong:
"I love thee Lord Jesus, look down from the sky...". 
a Christmas miracle.
did a child in that crowd sing those words for the first time and question?  did an adult and begin to believe?  i was one adult who sang with conviction, except for the "no crying he makes" line.  as if. 

i was thinking in the shower this morning about having God as your child, wondering what behaviors would disappear, and what would remain.  for example:  temper tantrums.  i mean, i'd like to believe they're sinful, but maybe, like every toddler trying to find some control in life, Jesus stomped his foot as well.  Maybe Jesus would have behaved like my three year old in church Christmas Eve, tired and wanting to run and explore instead of sitting quietly by Mary.  but would Mary have said "if you do that one more time I'm cancelling Christmas"?  For obvious reasons no, but i'd like to believe that she might have threatened Purim or something :).  (not my finest parenting moment).

Christmas was a really beautiful day this year.  I feel so SO thankful that Scott is home, so in love with my family, so aware that I will look back on this Christmas for years to come as the last one in BC.  and, to make things perfect, it was complete with gloom and rain and plus8 weather.  the presents were a hit, and my boxing day wishes came true in the form of new tupperware to organize said presents.  tomorrow the boxes arrive and a new chapter begins. 

but before that, a night to sit in poetry, snuggle with my hubby, and enjoy the peace.  i hope that your night also carries within it calm and bright and heavenly peace. 

one more present, from Luci Shaw:

    After 
The white-hot beam of annunciation
fused heaven with dark earth,
his searing, sharply focused light
went out for a while,
eclipsed in amniotic gloom;
his cool immensity of splendor,
his universal grace,
small-folded in a warm, dim
female space -
the Word stern-sentenced to be
nine months' dumb -
infinity walled in a womb,
until the next enormity -
the Mighty One, after submission
to a woman's pains,
helpless on a barn's bare floor,
first-tasting bitter earth.

(Luci Shaw, "Made Flesh")

snippets

there is a bright orange sticker that says SOLD on the realtor sign in my front window.  it's beautiful.  i confess to staring at it.

my husband arrives tomorrow at one and i cannot wait to look into his eyes and love him and be loved.

at the Christmas concert last week my son interpreted "Hosanna" as "Go Santa" and sang it at the top of his lungs.  nothing like pastor's kids.  reminded me of the time we pulled up to church and my daughter, then a toddler, yelled "YAY! shopping!!"

last night as i carried my son up the stairs to bed i said "i will be so sad when you're too big for me to carry, and he said "don't worry mommy, then I'll carry YOU!!" 

the plan is to pack our house the six days following Christmas.  Scott will then drive out to Saskatoon on the 2nd of January, and I'll fly out on the 4th with the kids.  We will move into our new place on the 20th. 

it seems i have all of my Christmas wishes, and a God who, for some reason beyond my understanding, cares about them. 

the heart

i wasn't going to type this until it was in-the-bag certain, but it's looking really positive so here we go:
we've sold our house.
we've bought another house.
well, not just another house.  let me fill you in on the journey my heart has been taking these last few months.  in all of my efforts to try and enlarge in this process, to accept hope and deny fear, to live positively and fully, my heart has been shrinking.  why?  i don't know:  i miss my husband fiercely, being a single-parent is more difficult and emptying than i anticipated (and i wasn't expecting much in the first place!), the continual waiting coupled with SO many people saying their praying for us...but many people live through so so so much worse and walk around with giant hearts, ready to accept and hope and welcome.
anyways, who knows the real deep why (crap, is that the lesson i was supposed to learn here Lord?), but i have felt cardio-restriction.  and i have been whittling away at hope, until it has become a shadow of my dreams.  Instead of hoping for the new home we've been praying for in the neighbourhood we've been praying for,  and the timing we've been praying for, my hope has shrunk to "please just let this end".  well, it has.  and at the end is the house, in the neighbourhood, and pretty great timing.
in the end is what feels to be miracle.
i'm finding it difficult to accept.  my prayers have been focussed on one thing so long that i find myself still praying them even though i no longer need to. 
here's what i want to do:  grab my husbands hand and pull him outside and run through the streets shouting "thank you thank you thank you Jesus!!"  i want to laugh and cry and scream until all of this stress that i feel grinching me is let out.  i want to praise.
Praise you Lord Jesus Christ, for your miraculous birth and for the miracles you are still performing today.  Thankyou for the themes of advent:  homecoming, restoration, and joy that my readings this week have been highlighting, themes that you are carrying me through.  thank you that you are so tender with me even when i mistrust your promise of meeting the desires of my heart.
thank you for loving me
thank you for loving me
thank you for loving me.
thank you that the blessing of life with you is life with you.

ah, cardio-growth.

ode to joy

a few years ago, after my second miscarriage, i began to define joy as this:  the ability to trust in God regardless of ones circumstances. looking back over the last weeks and months of my life i can see a rhythm:  days of contentment and peace, where my eyes are on my God and my family and friends and my heart is full; and days of frustration and compulsion, where i'm tossed around by life's circumstances and wounded by my dissapointments.  joy and sorrow.  trust and distrust.

i don't mean to over simplify, for there are days where despite my best efforts to focus on the constancy of God's love i am bulldozed by anxiety.  but, on the whole there is definitely an equation to be seen of trust equalling a confidence that spills into every area of my life and relationships.

joy in me these days looks like this:  playing with my children, relaxing about my home, laughing, being brave enough to look into my mirky future and maybe even daring to dream a little, enjoying my husband, praising and thanking God throughout my day, investing in relationships.  it does not always look like happiness; i can still cry, but it's with a sense of being shielded and safe.  it certainly looks nothing like perfection, but it is movement in a right direction.

i was reading in habakkuk the other day for advent and found that habakkuk defined joy as i do.  he says this:

even though the fig trees have no blossoms,

and there are no grapes on the vines;

even though the olive crop fails,

and the fields lie empty and barren;

even though the flocks die in  the fields,

and the cattle barns are empty,

yet I will rejoice in the Lord!

I will be joyful in the God of my salvation!

The Sovereign Lord is my strength!

He makes me as surefooted as a deer,

able to tread upon the heights.

Habakkuk 3:17-19 

believing in the sovereignty of God is definitely my strength in these days.  i know that there is purpose, that there are reasons for me to be here in British Columbia while my husband is there in Saskatchewan.  is it so that i can look into the face of a friend who is newly pregnant and shine my happiness and pride to her in person?  or so that i can hold a friend who is finding it hard to stand under deep sadness and hurt?  or to celebrate with my daughter that her and her best friend have both lost their first tooth this week, and it's in the exact same spot?(!)  is it everything, or none of these things.....i know that it's not for nothing.  

so, friends and strangers, i call you to trust with me this week.  let's put our hearts and minds and bodies in the hands of the One who loves us best, and let the figs and trees and crops and cattle do what they will.

 

advent

can i share with you how God has been generous with me in the past week? 
a couple from our new church in Saskatoon amazingly gave us airmiles for the kids and i to fly there for the weekend.  our children were finally introduced to their new homeland, complete with rider-nation pandamonia, and perfectly falling snowflakes - one of which Olivia found shaped as a five-pointed star.  we were given a home to live in, a van to drive, tickets to a winter light show, incredible amounts of love and support and hugs, a fantastic lunch by a kindred spirit, beautiful growing friendship, a job my husband is loving, long embraces and promised prayers and purposed psalms, and the list goes on. 

advent is here, the season of joy and longing all muddled together, and it seems like perfect timing. 

scott pointed me toward this reading by Henri Nouwen, and i've been looking forward to sharing it with you all.  I have changed a few tenses at the end...but i don't think henri would mind.

people who wait have received a promise that allows them to wait.  they have received something that is at work in them, like a seed that has started to grow.  this is very important.  we can only really wait if what we are waiting for has already begn for us.  so waiting is never a movement from nothing to something.  it is always a movement from something to something more...a promise that nurtures you, that feeds you and that makes you able to stay where you are.  and in this way, the promise itself can grow in you and for you.

as Eugene Peterson says in his paraphrase of Romans 8:  we are enlarged in the waiting.

so my prayer for us in this advent season:  that God's promises for our lives would grow in us and enlarge us. 

i don't want to exit this time stunted and skinny with pessimism and anger as my only food.  i want to grow in thankfulness and honesty and hope and love.  i want to hit Christmas day with more joy and celebration then ever before, despite my circumstances. 

shall we enlarge together?