Fly on the Wall

Overheard at my house this weekend:

Anne M:  Mom, there’s something that bothers me a teeny tiny bit about Christmas day.  You know how I get presents when I get up? All the presents right at the beginning makes me forget about Mary and baby Jesus.  I don’t think about them because I’m thinking about the presents, you know?  It makes me feel sort of sad about Christmas.

Me:  Well, what do you think we should do about it?

Anne M:   I don’t know, that’s the thing.  If I were a boy I would give my presents to Jesus, but since I’m a girl, I guess I should keep them because he doesn’t want all that girl stuff.

Me:  Hmmmmmmm.

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Yes, there are two Roberts on this list of winners. Did I mention we are a competitive bunch? 
 (Lil Josh had his moment in the sun, too!)



 

David (to me):  Collin sat right next to me during the Mental Math round. 

Me:  I don't understand how it works.  Did they even give you a pencil?  No?  You just had to do it all in your brain?

David:  All you could write was the answer.  Hey Collin, do you know what fraction .18 repeating is?  Did you get that one right?  I couldn't figure it out so I skipped it.  It's somewhere between one-fifth and one-sixth.

Collin:  I dunno, I skipped it, too.  Did you get the one that was one-half times one-third times one-half of the square root of two hundred twenty-five?

David:  Yeah, that one was easy…one and a fourth.

Me (nonverbal):  Feeling dumb over here---can we please change the subject?



This moment--placing three times in a large, diverse crowd of math nerds students,
would likely never have happened without this momentous decision.
(Yep, they got matching trophies.)

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Madeleine:  Mom, you are going to freak out when you hear this.  You won’t believe what we found at the Living Christmas Story tonight--in the pots they put at the market.  We were walking around Bethlehem and we looked down and Dad noticed something was in there.  He pulled it out and there they were! You’re never going to guess what it was. 

Me:  I can’t begin to guess.  Just tell me.

Madeleine:  Teeth, mom!  Two bags full of baby teeth!  In the pots!  It was so completely disgusting. 

David:  Yeah, I made some inquiries hoping whoever brought that prop would remember they left their kid’s teeth in there.  But nobody seemed that interested.

Me:  Maybe those pots belonged to the real tooth fairy?

_____________________________________________________________________________________

Anne M:  You know what the best day of my life is going to be?  The day I die!  The day I die will be the best day of my whole life put together!

Me:  What's your thought process there?

Anne M:  Because I get to meet Jesus!  IT IS GOING TO BE AWESOME! 

Me:  Amen, sister, amen.

 

 

 

Fly High {Friday Photo}

Aim at heaven and you will get earth thrown in.
Aim at earth and you get neither.
-C.S. Lewis

Purple Holiday Rant

The purple Santa video I'm seeing all over the place, which was even texted to me by my brother late last night, seems to be striking a chord in the heart of America this week.  Travelers at one location tell the West Jet Santa what they want for Christmas, then the West Jet employees scramble to buy these items and miraculously wrap them before the plane lands at it's location.  Oh.my.word. Is this all it takes to make us cry and think warm and fuzzy thoughts?

 

That the young professional couple with the healthy child and enough money to buy three plane tickets got their 50" TV from West Jet at the end?

REALLY?

We are such suckers for marketing, especially good marketing like anything that can go viral on the Internet. We waste valuable minutes of our life watching this ridiculous gimmick and believing that it shows how giving and generous the world can be.  What thoughtful folks they are at West Jet--if only they served Tallahassee, I would be their #1 customer!  What a deserving guy who got the socks and underwear he requested in such a snarky manner!  And that poor little boy who only wants Thomas the Train for Christmas--I'm so glad he got his happy ending!  Oh, if only I had been on that fateful flight--I could've gotten my much-desired espresso maker! 

Quick, edit the video and make it look awesome because West Jet's purple Santa is about to storm Facebook with this particular piece of marketing magic.



Yay!  Now I can play on my Nintendo DS, my DS 3D, my Wii, and this awesome freebie!

We are just foolish enough to think this video expresses man's goodwill.  I got a little choked up myself until I thought how ridiculously First World this whole spoof really is.  Look a little deeper and you see what it does in fact express:  manipulation.  That's what good marketing does.  It affects our opinion of something and shapes it in subtle ways.  Kudos, West Jet.  We are a nation of passive thinkers who enjoy little juicy morsels like this.  If we have to eat our marketing pie, at least let it be deliciously entertaining. 

Christmas, you are a hot commercial mess and we--citizens of the wealthiest and most well-educated nation in the history of the world--go along with it year after year, purple Santas and all. 

 

The Busy Days of December {Friday Photo}

Nothing like a good book to keep the honey-do requests, unanswered texts, blinking voicemail, and child-chores at bay.
Weekend, you can't get here quickly enough.

Empty Arms

Another Christmas card is in the can, so to speak.  Whew, we did it.



emphasis on the "bright" in 2010

Every year, I put an overabundance of effort and importance on a cute, original card.  My thinking is that with this quantity of munchkins, I am surely missing lots of good photo ops, and the card shoot ensures that a single good picture will exist of each child at least once a year.   So I rush around and try to piece together outfits for a blend of boys, girls, and grownups that might help us appear more coordinated and make us look, you know, like we have our act together.  (We don’t.)  I visualize the color scheme and the options available across the age groups, run in and out of stores, order stuff online, have my gray covered up, and make sure haircuts happen at least one week in advance of the big day.

In other words, the level of effort verges on the ridiculous.  I freely admit it.



We had two photo shoots this year 'cause the first one
 made me us look strangely tired.  Imagine that!

The funny thing is that when the proofs come in and I am looking at all the healthy, shining faces, there is one part of me that aches a little bit, and leads me to think about something both piercing and bittersweet.

I think about empty arms.

I know this post is anti-festive and hostile to the modern cheerful-at-all-costs Christmas spirit, but can I be honest?  I ache for the children lost to us—the pregnancies that ended in heartache.  I look at our Christmas card photos this year and how they communicate such perfection and happiness and lovely children and sweet smiles, as such cards really should.  But I am a mother and know that certain hearts are not there and it grieves my own.

So I try to reconcile the holiday joy, which I really do feel, with the nagging heartache and am surprised that it’s really not that difficult.  Because at Christmas, Mary moved into motherhood with the birth of Jesus, a path that began with an adorable babe and mommy snuggles and all the sweet baby sounds.  But follow her story thirty-three years, and it ends painfully, with a mother who no longer had a son to hug, to admire, to follow.  That story ends with empty arms for Mary, too.  We are aligned, if even in a small way, by our suffering.  And this thought makes me not feel so alone.




Can I confess?  2012 involved a tiny bit of photoshopping.
But it turned out so great that I might never outdo it.  Still gonna try, mind you.

I tell myself: there is tragedy and triumph in the Christmas moment…the hope of a new birth to a new mother and, later, the deep grief as she watches her son brutally die right before her eyes.  But then—then—the most glorious rebirth takes place at the resurrection, and the hurt of mother and son serves the sacred purpose so many years later of allowing me access to eternity.

I feel empty arms today but his arms were also empty when they were spread wide on the cross — so I could walk right into them.

And I consider that without the suffering of her mama heart, so intricately bound up in the pain of the cross, Mary's greatest purpose could not have been fulfilled.  To be a mom.  To be Jesus's mom. The suffering was a necessary and non-negotiable part of that purpose. 

Christmas 2009

So as we turn the calendar to December, my heart is quickened to pray for those who open up card after card of happy Christmas scenes depicting perfect-looking families and for the empty arms they bring to mind.  For those ex-wives who have no husband to hold; for those who have seen precious ones die of long sicknesses or quick accidents.  For those who never had a chance to bear the child they always desired.  For those teetering on the edge of loss as people they care passionately about are eaten up with illness, weak health, or addiction. 

For those who in the camera’s flash appear to have their lives together, but behind the shiny smiles, they grieve.

And I resolve to gratefully lean into the small suffering in my own life and accept it as part of God’s greater plan--a plan to develop depth and empathy and nuance in my character and make me the wife, mother, friend, daughter, and sister that He wants me to be.  That, to quote Tim Keller, “there will be a purpose to it, and if faced rightly, it can drive us like a nail deep into the love of God."




preview of 2013

Final TD of the season (aka, how to extend Dad's coaching career) {Friday photos}

 

Reid gets the handoff...

 He cuts back... 

 Finds a hole and hits the gas...

 The red shirts fall in a wake of peewee devastation...

Touchdown! Touchdown! Touchdown!

My Anniversary Card

Today I celebrated my 17th wedding anniversary.  There was no fancy dinner, no roses, no quiet hand holding.

Instead, today was a day of action, and it reminded me vividly of the “why” behind those 17 years.

Our special day started at 6am, when we bounded out of bed to head into the cold dark to finish the setup for a youth adventure race that our kids’ school was organizing as a fundraiser.  Although unquestionably a huge team effort, David was an integral part of the race, having spent many hours figuring out the nuances of the course, creatively naming the obstacles after the classical theme of the event, staking and taping off the 1.2 mile route, assembling the best playlist in the history of amateur races, and generally problem-solving a 200-person, 10-obstacle, slightly dangerous and logistically challenging race involving children as young as age 2 that had never taken place before. 

He was into it.  Why?  Because he believes in the fundamental mission of our school: to raise intellectuals for Christ.  He is passionate about our children knowing Jesus and one day being the most well-spoken, well-educated people in the room, able to defend and articulate their faith.  The school is all about such goals, and this race was designed to support its mission.

But for David, it’s not enough merely to have a sound opinion about something.  He doesn’t believe in things politely, stand aside, and leave it at that.

He is a person of innovative ideas and trustworthy actions. 

He spent his time today (and many days prior) dedicated to working with the team and making that race a smashing success.  And it was phenomenal.  We had children from all sorts of origination points—public school, private school, homeschool, our student body.  As he released coordinated 2-minute wave after wave of age groups banded with the color coding he set up, running through stakes that he personally had buried to define the race course, listening to tunes he had thoughtfully selected (Aaron Copland, Toad the Wet Sprocket, U2), his fingerprints were all over this event, and it was a resounding accomplishment. 

There is no doubt that David is a doer in the utmost sense of the word. 

But this just takes us to 10:30am on our 17th wedding anniversary.  For my husband also chairs another board, which he doesn't take lightly.  He rushed off to change in the race parking lot, Superman-style, and head to the public ribbon-cutting ceremony for the new 37,000 square foot Salvation Army headquarters that has been in the praying, purchasing, fundraising, and renovating stages ever since he joined the board. 

So, imagine David at 11am, wearing slightly wilted khakis and a button-down that I half-pressed last night and standing in front of around 100 folks in dark suits and tie-pins from the mayor’s office, numerous Salvation Army officers in their full-dress uniforms from chapters from Atlanta to South Florida, various members of the press and dignified officials and businessmen.  As he set aside the thoughts and concerns of the race earlier that morning, his clothing ceased to matter as his words connected with the crowd and he delivered from the podium on the gleaming front steps of that building a rousing, inspiring, call-to-action-type speech.  “Jesus tells us to serve the poor and needy, and this building is not only a place where the poor and needy can turn to be served, but a place where those desiring to serve Him can come and live out those words.  If you desire to serve Jesus, come here—do it here (gestures to beautiful new building).”  His words, spoken with great emotion, caused many (who pastor their own SA churches and speak regularly) to seek him out afterwards and thank him heartily for expressing what was in their hearts.

Looks neat and tidy, but we still have mud spatters on our faces from the race.

Would I take this man to be my lawfully wed husband, to have and to hold from this day forward?  I am thankful that on my 17th anniversary, by lunchtime, David reminded me many times over exactly why on November 9, 1996, I said yes and continue to say a resounding YES to that question.  Why I can't help but respect and admire him more every single day.  His thoughtfulness about faith, service, parenting, business, relationships, education and every matter that has any importance always translates into real-life execution of his ideals.  There are not enough people like that in the world.

And I’m here to testify that there is something magical about waking up with a godly man of action.  You know that the days with him will have meaning greater than your wildest hopes and dreams, and they will be an adventure ordained by God, satisfying beyond measure.

So a quiet day, some roses, and a restaurant dinner are always nice, but somehow David took this day and make it into a vividly illustrated, live-action card painted in broad and living strokes with this bold message:

I love the Lord my God.

I love our children.

And I love you.