holiday – Casting A Stone

This season we are blessed to live in this amazing parsonage that has a full basement with a laundry room. There is this thing that I do. I never want to make more than one trip downstairs to the laundry room. I try to gather ALL of the dirty laundry from eight people out of both hampers and carry it down. In theory this saves myself another trip down the stairs. I am sure you can picture what happens. It is a mound, and as I try to wrestle the overloaded basket through the house I drop a sock here, undies there, and maybe even a shirt or two. Our sweet dog, Ace, also knows that this happens. He loves him a dirty sock.

Today, as I was chasing him around and behind the couch to save the dirty sock before a hole was chewed through its center, I had to laugh. Why? Why do I try to overload myself thinking that this is the best way to get more done and save myself time and energy. It never does!

Thinking about how my life often resembles that overloaded basket of dirty laundry. I really try to stuff too much in, do too much, and then get frustrated when the inevitable happens. I drop the ball (or should I say sock?) and my efforts come to a lot less then my intentions.

It has been about 7 years since we have been in the States for Christmas. I have loved seeing all of the decorations, hearing the Christmas music in the stores as I shop, shopping for my kids, and having fun ingredients readily available to whip up some holiday treats. It has been so much fun – but as I get close to the 25th, I see how I am trying to load that laundry basket full of stuff and a few important things are getting dropped along the way. In Asia, I was so intentional about creating an atmosphere in our home to feel, contemplate, and experience advent. I am afraid it has been harder to do here in my beautiful comfortable parsonage.

I am hoping it is not too late. I want to do less. Simplify. Make these last important days of Advent stand on their own and do a work in our hearts. My prayers is that our family will remember the Advent readings, the candles, the space to be together and reflect on the true gift of Christmas. Surely, they won’t remember that I missed getting the perfect gift or that the meal wasn’t elaborate. I might disappoint some people around me, but I think my soul may be better for it. For a self-aware perfectionist and people pleaser this is hard work.

I want to take this one step further….I think that slowing down and making this season one of peace and contemplation is a gift I can give not just family but my neighbors as well. I imagine the hussle and bustle of the season is leaving many feeling empty – searching for more meaning. Let’s be the peaceful light to the culture around us that demands for more. Is it possible that by not keeping up with the Joneses I might be offering a different picture of Christmas?

I am still trying to decide how to do this. For now, every time I am considering making three types of cookies rather than one I am going to take a deep breath and whisper the name of Jesus. As I call on the name of Jesus for myself and for you, dear friends, I am praying….may our Christmas season be one of peace, hope, and quiet moments to reflect on the goodness of our Savior so that we make Him known.

December is just one of those months. Every year I get so homesick for my extended family and Christmas traditions that I could burst into tears at any given moment. But, every year we have the privilege of celebrating Christmas cross-culturally, I am filled with joy at the opportunities to experience the true meaning of Advent. I could explode over the wonder of it all. My crazy life.

This year was like the others, busy with open houses for students, story telling, cookie baking, Christmas art projects, frosting and sprinkles. It has been breath taking…and so very fun. I really think that this month will go down in the books as one of the best Christmas seasons ever. It wasn’t perfect. I burnt cookies, got overwhelmed by the number of guests that came through our home, and Little Man picked his nose through his debut in the Christmas play. (Friend, that could be a post on its own. My son dressed as a wiseman digging for treasure up his nose. Yes, he saw me give him the “momma stink eye.” Then says to me FROM STAGE, “Just a second, I almost have it!” He then pulled it out and flung it. True story. Sigh.)

So it wasn’t perfect, but there were moments that I will treasure for years to come. I was able to be the first one to share the Christmas story with a student. How perfect is that? Decorating sugar cookies with all of my art students who called the frosting paint and couldn’t keep themselves from licking everything…Okay, a little gross, but oh so priceless. My children hosting and helping. I think that treasure is the one I will ponder the most. Soccer Dude pushing a wheel chair and breaking off bits of cookies to put in the lips of children who are paralyzed. That is a gift.

There are many days that I long for Christmas of the past when I was at home with my parents and eating western food and attending a Christmas eve service. But honestly, if next Christmas would find us back in the States, I would miss what I have here. My crazy life. True story.