Before I get started, sometimes I must confess it feels as if I am talking to myself when I put these thoughts on paper. . . the demands placed upon my time and life leave me little time to recruit a wide array of fans to eagerly anticipate each installment. . . but then I remember it might prove insightful for my children someday . . . and there is a certain man in my life that requests it for biased reasons of his own. . . so . . . I write. . .
As I write, we're on the brink of another season for reflection and celebration. . .another opportunity to offer thanks and follow up immediately thereafter with rejoicing in the miracle of the God-Man coming to rescue thankless souls from impending doom. . . and a season to reflect that God-love to one another.
Rain and morning sickness also grant me opportunity to be still and know. . . to ponder things that normally have to compete for my brain powers with other occupations. Sometimes so doing, I can sink into a rather melancholy state.
As I watch the world around me becoming ever increasingly hostile to everything this season of the year means to me. . . I wonder how many more opportunities we will have to freely express worship through our various forms of celebration. Hmmm. . . sobering. . . sad. . .
And then I reflect upon the superficial amusements that are replacing the celebration of that monumental birth. . . people becoming consumed with Santa, toys, parties, spirits and sweets . . . busying their already packed schedules with empty, secular frivolity. This leads the way for the dreary months of January and February, when the tinsel and lights no longer wash away their empty, shallow existence. . . and all they have to show for it are maxed credit cards, new layers applied to their love handles, and kids already discontent with their pile of discarded toys. . . Ho, Ho, Ho. . .
I'm not meaning to bash the special baking and parties and gifts, per say (though I do have a personal vendetta against the fraud in the red suit who has stolen the worship). . . for I love those things, too. . . but it's when that is the sum total of the season. . . it renders itself rather shallow. . .our cookies and sweets and secret plots for gifts. . . they all take on a depth of meaning when the reason behind them is celebrating the birth of the King!
I sink back into my chair and resolve 1. to capture the opportunity to fully engage in the worship and celebration. . . seizing the day that remains to do so freely as I please. . . to bend the knees of my heart and tell Him THANK YOU. . . thank you for this privilege I cherish so much. . .and forgive me for the lackadaisical attitudes of the past. And 2. to indulge in a few silent nights. . . to purposefully sit and reflect on the depth of everything the remembrance of His birth means. I can wipe away the shallow frivolity, turn the lights on the tree, the carols softly ringing in the background, and silently contemplate things too great for me while I stare at the logs blazing on the hearth. Things like. . .
* Angelic beings operating all around me, and those who have entered into my world, such as Gabriel, to bring messages to appointed humans. What was it like for Mary when she encountered - live and in color - this herald???
* The Moment. . . . what was that like. . . when the Spirit of God shadowed over her and the God of the Universe took residence within her womb. . . how did His Godhood connect with her egg?? How did that feel? Was she scared? Did she know what was happening?? Wow. . . a goosebump moment for sure.
* The realness of the key players in the story. . .Joseph. . .Mary. . . they were REAL people living on this REAL world. . . I'm always fussy about Bible storybooks. . . I look for those illustrations which portray biblical characters as real people. . . no bug-eyed cartoon characters or computer generated, claymation looking vegetables. . .those don't float my boat. I want the cream of the crop talent that thank goodness is out there to put before my children's souls.
* Mary's realness means questions like. . .was she morning sick, emotional, scared? Where were her parents? Did they understand? How did she handle the public scrutiny when the inevitable bump began to show off? How many tears of fear rolled down her cheeks. . .stoning was not exactly a relished thought I am sure! What was her relationship with Joseph like? Was there true love between them, or a mere arranged relationship? Did she smile when He offered his first kick?
* The Bethlehem journey. . . how long did it take to get there. . . did her back ache up on that donkey? Did she walk much? How far along really was she? And WHERE on earth did she tinkle those umpteen times an hour it seems!!!???? How long were they in Bethlehem before the birth? Was she in labor long? Was it started on the back of that burro??
* The Cave Inn. . . was it unusual for people to bed for the night with the animals? Now. . .I am a farm girl. . . many an hour spent cleaning stalls leaves me wondering. . . hmmmm, did they have straw??? Was it clean??? Barn settings are not always sweet scented. . .hmmmm. . . How did Joseph manage. . . did he attend the birth?? Did they find local midwives . . . strangers. . . to come and coach her through??? Was NOBODY aware and or willing to find a place within more genteel accommodations??? (though I realize God wanted the stable. . . but humans. . . they don't always know God's unconventional choices. . . did any even try to alter the only option?? )
* The Other Moment. . .THE MOMENT. . . of birth. . . how long did she have to push? Was He tiny? Did He cry? Lots of hair? How'd they tend to the umbilical cord back then? (In a STABLE no less??) How'd she clean up? Did she cry? . . . .Did Father God. . . ???? (at this thought, tears always instantly well up . . . . just WHAT was That Moment like for the Almighty God. . . what kind of emotion surged through the God of the Universe, I wonder????? How many angels were hovering around that scene, watching, waiting, listening???? . . . and Where was Satan. . .and his demons. . .what were they thinking????
What was it like to be a shepherd lolling the night away, drowsily counting sheep and boda-boom-boda-bing!!!! Nearly wetting their robes or encountering cardiac arrest when the sky burst forth in light and song. . . ????
Yes, I need a silent night. . . to become absorbed in THE MOMENT. . .
I hope you do, too. . .
I Need a Silent Night
In All Things
Long time, no see. . .
I've been absent of late. . . I hasten to add though. . .
When one has no thoughts. . . one cannot accomplish many keyboard capers, now can they???
I fear this dastardly languid state of affairs occurring within my cranium renders me incompetent. It seems all the thinking-powers contained therein are devoting their loyal services to a higher call. The baby factory is in full-swing this season and with its opening comes a host of unbridled hormones, ardently rendering their services to the all-important WeeOne.
However, nausea does leave one reflective, even if not very thoughtful. . . (I'm sure there's a difference!)
This season of Thanksgiving, I'm especially reflecting on giving thanks. (novel, aint it??) I'm challenging myself to be intentional. . .to really consider the things that the Almighty has done, has given, has planned. . . which deserve an attitude of gratitude.
Can I come up with 365 reasons to offer a meager couple of words back for the deluge poured in abundance upon, within, and all around me? I've decided to try it - for a year. Facebook assists me in this venture as my accountability partner - ready and waiting for my thankful status. Nothing else is allowed there prior to the day's thanks. My little circle of friends and family are my witnesses. . . privileged, if you call it so, to observe a few snippets of the internal workings of my soul on this journey.
Something I have noticed already in my quest. . . the intentional ponderings have rendered a fresh appreciation, awe, and desire within me to give credit to Whom credit is due. How easy it is to walk through life without stopping to take note of something - great or small - and acknowledge the One who conjured it up in the first place. And if He didn't ordain it - for I do not believe that God ordains evil - He did allow it. . .thus, this is where the "in all things" toots its horn.
I always feel a sandpaper effect wash over my soul on that one. . . "In all things" . . . Who, pray tell, can give thanks for the sour side of life? I can't easily conjure up feelings of thanks for things like a child suffering the effects of cancer or liberal ideology stripping my beloved country of its strength or sin and weakness within and without having its way despite my desperate desire to be free from its grasp. And worst of all, for those unexplainable circumstances of soul where it seems God pulled a dirty one on you. . . the feelings of betrayal, pain, despair when your heart was in zealous pursuit of His glory in your life and Wham! for all practical purposes from a human perspective, His reply, it seems, sends you into the pit. The "How could You do this?" and "Why did You allow that?" - groanings too deep for words when one passes through this type of dark valley. . .
I'm not sure how one can overcome, but somehow I cling to the hope that the offering of thanks provides rungs to the ladder of the soul stuck in this tarry pit. I guess each soul knows its own pit, for I assume no one in this life escapes, unmarred by the tar. And one's pit would not seem such to another soul. . . so it's a personal, private valley in many ways. . . making it all the more difficult to bear.
But somehow, I am determined to believe, SOMEHOW God's LOVE resides even within that pit. . . no matter how much the flesh and its circumstances want to scream out to the contrary. . . for everything depends on Him being who He said He is. . . and He said He is LOVE.
Therefore, I'm choosing to also believe that this offering of thanks coming out of a heart feeling anything but thankful becomes material for sacrifice, for worship, for faith to take wing and soar. And frankly, I like to think thanksgiving is also sending a blow to the powers of darkness which all too often score too, too many points in this life. (and quite probably have some tar on their hands as well. . .)
So for this next year, taking a spin on the words of Jacob, I've decided. . .
"I will not let You go until I bless You!"
A Slice of Mayberry
I just love this little song. . . hope you do, too!
After scoping out the local scenery surrounding Fort Sill. . . we closed the day with a visit to the Elgin, Oklahoma area. Having researched as best I could via the convenience of cyber-scoping. . . Elgin sounded like my top pick, and now having been there, I think it remains so! (That's always a surprise!)
I took a few pictures of various and sundry details on my crippled pink Razor (that isn't spelled that way, alas. . .), but The Man upgraded me to an iphone this weekend. . . AFTER taking in the sights. . .ho-hum. . . I guess there wasn't too much on there to make one jump back in astonishment - unless a buffalo behind happens to trigger your fascination! :)
But The Man got a few pictures of my favorite little town, Elgin, now coined "Mayberry" since I read several descriptions of it being called such by those who've served time at Sill. And as hard as it is to believe, neither of us can imagine doing anything other than building. . . again. . . (now there's where some of you can gasp!) Who knows what will transpire. . . . but with a brood the size we have, and all. . . it always ends up cheaper to just carve out our own "little" nitch in the sod. So. . . I'm fastening my seatbelt again as I think it's going to be another ride. . . (may the good Lord see to the bumps in the road this time. . . last time, the pot holes nearly did me in. . . )
I digress. . . here's a few shots we got to hold you over. . . we'll get more titillating shots in a couple weeks. . .The Brood and I will head back down as The Man will have a three day weekend! :) And being only a six hour drive - pshaw! Piece of cake!. . . blink and we're there. . . (well. . . almost. . . )
This is the road with the property location we liked the best (to the right). The road will be chip and sealed by June, they say. It's a nice little backwards "h" with a dead end, so that makes for quiet, safe walks and bike rides for The Brood. . . :)
This is the property and the view beyond. . .you can see for miles, but I'm not used to living on stark-naked terrain. . . :S . . . makes ME feel stark-naked!!! And in one of the panoramic shots he took, you can see a windmill farm. . . a gentle (0r not so??) reminder that Oklahoma is windy?????
This is the view "across the street" and the Wichita Mountains in the distance. Fort Sill sits right next to them.
Well, seeing how duty calls me to leave this day's trinket in peace. . . I'll have to add more later. I really don't know what tomorrow may bring as it relates to where I will lay my head. . . but I really liked the Elgin area. Quiet, clean, friendly, rural to the max. . . yep. . . that little piece of Mayberry living my heart yeans to hold on to. This location comes in 1 acre lots. Obviously, no one has built anything yet. . . but I assume there would be neighbors during our stint on the range. It's about 2 minutes from Elgin and I-44, 15 minutes from Fort Sill, and an hour from Oklahoma City. Not too close and not too far away from either place. Sweet! :)
Worth Waiting For. . .
You really have to watch this first. . . The Man and his Brood tell me it's his theme song. . .
You know - when the descriptive stanzas are richly colored with your hues. . . when that dude either described your personality quirks to a "t" or he opened up your heart and revealed just how you feel. . .
Well, there's several songs which have passed by my ears in recent years that stop me dead in my tracks. . . not to mention those around me who hear them first and just have to clue me in to the fact that somebody out there knows me. . .
The day this little trinket came out for all the world to hear, I think I had 3 or 4 such heralds proclaiming, "Hey! They wrote a song about you!"
Well now. . .
Isn't that sweet. . .
Though in my defense. . . I have to say. . . it's not that I intend to be tardy. . .
Consider all the little time-snatchers surrounding me - even the most time-conscious one would be taken to his knees. . . I am certain. . . for instance. . .
Babies want milk. . . often. . .and rarely at times which are convenient. . . (do you know how many times I have hulked around these little parasites while brushing teeth, curling hair, putting on clothes. . . and at the same time, talking on the phone, directing previous parasites' affairs, loading a dishwasher (try that one for size!) fixing meals. . . flying out the door to get to ____ on time. . .??????? You should be impressed, no?)
Babies poop and puke. . . even more often. . . . and NEVER at times which are convenient. . . I suppose I could show up to the various engagements smelling like. . . hmmmm, well, . . .
Children have melt downs which they save until you just stepped into the shower already 15 minutes behind, but confident that you can make up the loss. . . hmmmm, well so much for that idea. . . might as well add a few bits more. . .
Children have life-threatening arguments over whose turn it is to load the dishwasher and SOMEBODY must initiate negotiations. . . usually done in true multi-tasking fashion. . . a curler in hair, toothpaste surrounding lips, and eyes scanning closet shelves for that "just right" outfit which will not reveal just how bloated you are feeling today. . . the powers of a mama's mind to have umpteen things in process all at once. . . surely a minute or two delay is understandable?
Add to that, all the other snitchers bounding at one with impish alacrity, making one look hopelessly delinquent. . . and this doesn't even hit one's own personal dilemmas. . .like. . .
* bad hair days - they are so cruel. . .
* nothing. . . I mean. . . NOTHING to wear though you zip, button, and fly through about 15 different combinations. . .
* nails which break to mock your pride over being 2 minutes ahead. . .
* buttons falling off
* zippers coming off track,
* mascara playing hide and seek under your mattress. . .(I think the baby had something to do with that one. . .)
* and surely I am not the only one who has ever fallen prey to THE MOST annoying time-robber. . . surely other girls out there have encountered a fuller than they'd like bladder cuz attention to duty has held them back from relief. . .
When they FINALLY steal one of those precious minutes to drain the bladder. . . all of a sudden. . . a sneezing fit overtakes their nostrils. . . wait, their entire bodies. . . and do you know what those forces do to the out-put strength of your plumbing??? Is it really MY fault that the pee goes flying everywhere - except in the bowl! And that outfit you finally settled on. . . well. . . the shower it just took really doesn't do anything to improve it. . . so. . .back to the drawing board. . .
These things. . . plus a myriad of others, contend for the mastery of my time management skills time and time again. . . but you know. . . The Man of mine takes it all in stride. . . he makes me think of the old man in the song. . . he works around all my catastrophic details, dramatic moments and frazzled emotions which without him would put me three hours (okay, okay. . . three years!) behind, I'm sure. . . I'm so glad he doesn't mind. . .
Waitin' on a Woman. . .
p.s. I think he knows she's worth it!
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