Come Be in the Manger with Me

I love this picture. I love all that it represents. I love how my daughter is always ready to play.

Right now I am in a season when life feels messy. I often feel like I am barely above water. I am not sinking, but the margins in my life have been shrinking. And when that happens, I want to clean my garage.

I know exactly what I am doing. I am trying to find some place in my life where I can have some control and feel like everything is all in its place.

The thing about life is that it is messy. It is unpredictable. It is always changing. For the past seven years, I have been discovering that I can find serenity in the mess. I don't have to become crazy trying to control it. That just makes me more crazy. I can have a garage that is messy or neat and still be okay inside my own skin.

On this particular day I eventually focused on getting down the Christmas decorations and loading a few boxes for the thrift store. Much more realistic and less exhausting.

And I loved how my daughter couldn't wait to pick up a broom and help us clean the garage in the midst of playing dress up. She had no concept that cleaning is not meant to be fun. She was thrilled to just be with us and share in the activity of the day with her family.

My daughter does not compartmentalize work and play. She hasn't learned to do that. She loves to clean, cook, fold laundry, and unload the dishwasher. All with my help of course. But she loves to do it because we are together. She is not on a time schedule. She is in no rush. Most of the world lives more like she does with a strong sense of community in the midst of every day tasks. I long to live more like that.

My daughter loves to play dress up, not because she is trying to make herself more beautiful to others, but because she loves to dress up. She loves to use her imagination. She loves to be creative. And she loves to invite you into her play times.

Just this evening she came to me and said, "Mommy, I made a manger. Come be in the manger with me." 

I said yes.

Her simple invitation helped me to stop and ponder God's invitation to come be with Me in the manger -- the dirty, messy, manger of my every day life. He doesn't ask me to clean it up first. But he's waiting for me to invite him in. He's the only one who can truly clean up the mess anyway. And that's what he longs to do.

Come be in the manger with Me.

Roses in December

Today I gathered around a table with women I dearly love. During the year we meet each week to study, to ponder and to help each other live out the teachings of Jesus. They are my "go to gals when life gets tough" as my North Carolinian friend puts it.

We are moms, singles, aunts, grandmas, and great grandmas. We come from different faith traditions. We love a good discussion. We like to use our minds as well as our hearts. We love to laugh. We love to welcome a newcomer.

Twice a year we gather to celebrate with feasting and gift giving.

The gifts we bring are simple but come from our hearts. Today, one brought a poem. Another a dramatic reading of a lost sheep and his shepherd. One shared a picture of her father who passed away this year. Another brought chocolate croissants.

And another gifted each of us with a fragrant rose and an herb bouquet from her winter garden.

Gifts of love. Gifts of friendship. Gifts to enjoy today.

The roses were fragrant and vibrant. I imagine it was a sacrifice to cut them from her garden at this time of year and share them with all of us. Yes, I live in a climate that has roses in the winter. But this will be the last of their blooms until spring. The roses must have looked stunning in her garden. But instead of keeping them for herself, she cut them and brought them to share.

My rose is in a vase on my dresser. I can smell its sweet scent as I write. It is with a deep appreciation that I enjoy its beauty because it came at a time when a garden rose is a rare gift.

I wonder how often I am given gifts but don't fully appreciate them because they seem common place or ordinary. And yet when given out of season or in a season of pain or grief, they become a lifeline. They become God's gifts of grace at just the right time.

My dad died on December 4, 2004. When we came home from the hospital after his passing, four long stemmed red roses sat in a vase on the kitchen table. My dad had given them to my mom just a few days before his tragic accident. There were four of us who entered the empty house. My mom, brother, husband and I. It was as if he was saying one last time to each of us, "I love you."

On the first anniversary of his death, I bought four roses to put in my home as a way to honor my dad. I now do that each year on December 4. I love that the red roses are part of my holiday tradition. They remind me to focus on what really matters during the holidays. I need that reminder as I can quickly feel overwhelmed by all I think I need to do. I need this reminder all year long!

I was given more than a rose today. I was given a gift of grace. 

For my dear friends who are in a season of waiting or grieving and who are struggling during the holidays, I pray that they too will receive the gift of a winter rose.  The gift of a hug, a phone call, a meal, a note, a prayer. Something that will remind them that they are loved.

Linking up with Tuesdays Unwrapped  

The Library

I love going to libraries. I love the rows of books. I love the quiet. I love how I can browse through cookbooks, novels, and paperbacks at my leisure. I love the smell of old wood desks and the echo of footsteps in libraries with grand ceilings and wood floors.

This week I was struck by how amazing it is to have access to public libraries. It is so easy to take for granted what I have always had available to me.

A few years ago I remember hearing about The Camel Library in Kenya. I remembered this story again this week and thought about the camel that carries books to villages in Kenya so that children can have access to them. What a creative and amazing idea. A public library that fits the cultural context in which it was born.

I had never thought about how the public library is a relatively new institution in America. My grandma grew up in the Los Angeles area when public libraries were just being established. Yes, our tax dollars at work. But it is a wonderful use of those dollars. I now live in a relatively small city with four public libraries. And I can get books sent from other libraries in my county to my home library. I have access to thousands and thousands of books!

One of my favorite books is Three Cups of Tea by Greg Mortenson. I would encourage you to pick it up if you haven't read it. Mortenson writes about how he attempts to climb K2, the second highest mountain in the world, but never reaches the summit. After he and four other climbers complete a 75-hour life-saving rescue of a fifth climber, Mortenson takes a wrong turn on the trail and ends up in the small village of Korphe. Physically exhausted and ill, Mortenson was cared for by some of Korphe's residents while he recovers.

The scene that jumped out at me is when the author sees the children of Korphe gathered together every day to practice their lessons. They don't have a teacher or a school or books or pencils. But they are so thirsty to learn that they practice their arithmetic together by drawing with sticks in the ground. The book goes on to tell the story of how Mortenson fulfills his promise to build a school for the village.

I read the book when my son was starting first grade. I was struck by how I took for granted that my son had a school to attend. I am so thankful for my son's school -- for classrooms, books, pencils, pens, tables, chairs, art, science, music and so much more. And most of all for teachers! I have so many friends and family members who are teachers. Thank you for teaching our kids!

And this year, my son, who is now in third grade, has had to learn to live life with Tourette's at school. I am so thankful for all the support he has been given at school. He is in a community that wants to listen and learn about his needs. He feels safe and loved there. A gift beyond words.

The simple act of walking into the library caught my attention. I want to pay attention to the people and places that I take for granted. I want to say thank you.