Jesus in the Stable by Tally

My daughter loves to paint. She loves to choose a brush and feel the paint flow from its bristles. She loves to carefully choose each color and place each stroke on the white canvas. She is three years old. She is an artist.

Today she wanted to paint Jesus in the Stable.  She started with the walls. Then the roof.

She placed the people in the stable. And then Jesus. His place carefully chosen. The stroke, deliberate. 

Do you see him? In the midst of the people, angels, clouds and trees? Tally knows exactly where Jesus is.

I could have watched her all day as she created her picture of Christmas. Her careful placement of color with each precious stroke. And then her presentation of her masterpiece. Her exclamation that Jesus is in the middle of the stable with all the people around him. She loves to point to him so I can see him too.

I'm still in awe at how she could create such a portrait of the story and say so much with her paint and brush. The artist at work is a mystery to me. I was given the privilege of watching one at work today.

My little artist helped me worship the One we celebrate this season. I need no other gifts this Christmas. She gave me the greatest gift of all. A picture of where Jesus wants to be in my life.

We're never alone when we invite Jesus into our stable. Some days I need to be reminded. Some days I feel stuck in the muck of the stable, and I need the reminder that he is in the center of it all. Right there in the midst of all the activity that goes on around me. All that fills my days. Today I am thankful for His living presence in my life. So very thankful.

Can you see Jesus, Mommy? Let me show you him!

Jesus in the Stable by Tally. A gift to you this holiday season. A gift from our home to yours.

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.

Small Signs

I was surprised by my daily Advent reading for November 29 (yesterday) - Search Amid The Small by Henri Nouwen.  It seemed to echo my own thoughts from my blog and reminded me, once again, to look for the simple gifts and remember who gives them. No matter what your spiritual practices may be during the holiday season, I hope this will encourage you as it did me.

A reflection for Advent from Henry Nouwen:

Our salvation comes from something small, tender, and vulnerable, something hardly noticeable. God, who is the Creator of the Universe, comes to us in smallness, weakness, and hiddenness. I find this a hopeful message. Somehow, I keep expecting loud and impressive events to convince me and others of God's saving power; but over and over again, I am reminded that spectacles, power plays, and big events are the ways of the world. Our temptation is to be distracted by them and made blind to the "shoot that shall sprout from the stump (Isaiah 11:1)." 

When I have no eyes for the small signs of God's presence -- the smile of a baby, the carefree play of children, the words of encouragement and gestures of love offered by friends -- I will always remain tempted to despair.

The small child of Bethlehem, the unknown man of Nazareth, the rejected preacher, the naked man on the cross, he asks for my full attention. The work of salvation takes place in the midst of a world that continues to shout, scream, and overwhelm us with its claims and promises. But the promise is hidden in the shoot that sprouts from the stump, a shoot that hardly anyone notices. 

Dear Jesus, I know that you can give me eyes to see the signs of your presence in the world, and I pray for this. But I also pray for faith in you for those times when I will not be able to see, to understand or feel your presence in my life. Grant me the courage to persevere and to hope in the unseen.

Sandy Shoes

My kids sandy water shoes are on the front step. They went tide pooling the day after Thanksgiving with our extended family and our international friend. I thought I should probably pick up the shoes today and put them away. But instead, the shoes caught my attention and reminded me of the past weekend and a gift I had been given.

I had not been feeling well on Friday so stayed home when everyone else went off to the beach. I love the beach. I love watching my kids tromp through the water. I love seeing the sun set over the Pacific. I love going to the tide pools in the winter when the high tide brings in all sorts of sea life. And last Friday was the lowest tide of the year. My husband sent me a picture via his phone of the octopus they got to see!

I was feeling a bit sorry for myself when I opened the picture on my phone. I imagined my daughter's face when she saw the octopus. And yet, I was savoring a quiet house and the time to rest on my bed and read a book -- one of my favorite things but something I rarely get to do these days. I have been trying to practice gratitude with the help of a group of women I meet with weekly. So I chose to enjoy the quiet and let the day move along instead of lingering on what I was missing.

When everyone arrived home, my two-and-half year old daughter bounded up into my arms and exclaimed, "Mommy! Mommy! I brought you a present. Seashells. Seashells for YOU!" What a gift! And then she was so excited to share about her adventures on the beach and about finding the octopus. "A BIG ONE!" She couldn't wait to share her joy and give me her gifts. Her heart was full because she got to share her joy with me.

I am so grateful for my sea shells.

Last night my kids had trouble going to bed. They both needed extra time with me at each of their bed times. I remember thinking how much I had to do before I went to bed. But I stopped and enjoyed the quiet moments to snuggle with them. I listened to their breathing get deeper and calmer as they drifted off to sleep. I soaked in the moments of being their mom.

I am so thankful that I get to be their mom.

Out of the blue one day, my son said, "I am so glad your my chosen mom." He knows he has a birth mom so he decided I needed a special name too. This spoke deep into my heart that day as I was feeling the residual effects of infertility. I didn't get to choose what age I would become a mom or how close in age my kids would be or what hospital they'd be born in or what month. Sometimes I get blindsided by women who talk about making a family as if it is like baking a cake. You just put in all the ingredients, set the magic timer, and everything comes out just as you planned. And then they get disappointed that they had to have a c-section or a different doctor or to use drugs. I guess I just don't get that emotion when you are holding a healthy, beautiful baby in your arms. So even today, I sometimes get hit by infertility after all these years. My son reminded me that I get to be his Chosen Mom. And even though it's not what I planned, that's a good thing -- for both of us!

My daughter's shell now rests on my windowsill. It's a reminder that I didn't get to go to the beach that day, but my daughter did and brought me back a gift. It also reminds me that as I enter into the Advent Season, I don't want to miss the real gifts because I am too busy getting things done or planning how things should go. Most of all I want to be awakened to God's presence in my life and his unexpected gifts.

I am grateful that I stopped and looked at sandy shoes today.