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.

Living Beyond the Bucket List

This summer we made a bucket list of sorts as a family.  We brainstormed all the things we wanted to do this summer. I resisted making one because I don't like the idea of a bucket list. But we did it so our two kids could see that neither one got to have a monopoly on the fun. Everyone got to put in their ideas, and we would try to do some of them. And we did.

Then, one day on our vacation, we were riding a cable car in San Francisco. As we inched our way up Powell Street, my son burst out unexpectedly, "WOW, Mom! This is like five bucket lists! And it isn't even on our list! This is AWESOME!"

I kept hearing that phrase in my head all day. "And it isn't even on our bucket list!"

What a reminder for life!

I don't like the idea of making a bucket list or any list that keeps track of my accomplishments because it feeds into my addiction to perfectionism and the illusion that I can control life.  All the years of walking through infertility and the adoption process forced me to let go of that illusion.  My life did not go as I planned, and I had to figure out how to deal with that reality. I had to let go of the list and the time table and the expectations. I had to stop comparing my life to those around me. I had to accept that I wasn't in control.

Letting go started when I began living one day at a time. And that came when I started seeing the gifts in each day. Some days it was a stretch. Some days I didn't want to see them. Some days they stared me in the face, and I couldn't help but reach out my hands.

How many times, since then, have I felt like my life is not going as I planned only to miss out on life itself? And then a gift unexpected and I'm shaken from my stupor. Awakened to the gifts in my every day life. Gifts from the One who holds my hand.

Maybe you know what I am talking about. Maybe you too have had to figure out how to live life beyond the if only's and figure out how to live right now and breathe in what is good, kind and wonderful in the midst of stress, pain, and uncertainty.

My circumstances have changed from those years when I was waiting for a child, but I still need the reminder to let go when I am holding on too tight to life as I want it. My heart still needs the gift of gratitude to help me open my hands and let God have control.

I want to live life beyond my bucket list -- One cable car ride at a time. 

Shifting Gears: A Reflection from Summer

Carefree days. Sleeping in. Reading a good book. Sipping iced tea on the back patio. Sounds great. But that's not what summer looks like at my house. Nope. Not gonna happen.

Before my son was diagnosed with Tourette Syndrome, I didn't know why our household felt so crazy in the summer. Why did he struggle so much with the unstructured days? I knew he missed school. But why was it so difficult for him to find his groove? 

And as the last day of school approached each year, I would feel panic. I didn't like to admit it. But summer meant trying to survive getting through the day without a meltdown -- mine or his or both!

Tourette Syndrome is on a spectrum and usually has other symptoms that accompany the vocal and motor tics. For my son, the other symptoms make it difficult for him to be flexible. He can be easily frustrated when things don't go as planned. So when life feels open-ended or unpredictable like in the summer, he gets frustrated more often.

When he is at school, these tendencies are lessened by the predictability of the day. He thrives in the school environment, in part from our amazing school and teachers, but also because he loves to learn. He loves the schedule on the board. He loves being surrounded by peers. But also because he is an amazing, courageous, bright kid who doesn't let his disability get in the way of living life. 

As his mom, I realized early on that he needed a schedule for the long summer days. But life is not like school and you can't plan every moment. Sometimes you have to be flexible. And for kids with Tourette Syndrome, that can be feel almost impossible. Summer days can feel really long for all of us.

So for years I just survived summer. 

This past year I've been given the gift of connecting with other moms who have felt like me. Moms with kids who don't fit the mold and make life interesting and keep you on your toes. I asked these friends who "get it" to pray for me. I asked them to pray with me that God would show me what to do differently. I felt like I had tried everything in the past.

This year I wanted to thrive not just survive.

Then one day I was with an acquaintance who homeschools her kids. She mentioned how she was looking forward to the summer. No more lesson planning. No more schedule. Time to just relax with her kids. I smiled and thought, "Not at my house."

But something clicked. My son loves to learn. He loves school. I thought, "This summer I will homeschool my kids in the things they love. Art. Science. Nature. Cooking. Reading." I have always tried to do fun things in the summer and be creative, but not with the mentality that I am not on vacation. I suddenly switched gears and thought, "It's time for me to get to work!"

I got online and discovered the world of Pinterest. I really didn't need another social network of sorts, but it was an amazing resource. I had a blast getting ready. The days began to fall into place. My favorite day was Georgia O'Keefe Day. Both kids were inspired by this amazing artist to create larger than life works of art.

For the first time in years, I was joyful and excited about summer. It became an answer to my heartfelt prayer. I had shifted into a new gear.

Did my son shift gears too? Not exactly. He still gets stuck, and we had difficult days. But that's a big change from difficult weeks!

This afternoon he had no idea I was writing about my summer. But as I watched him swing in the backyard and we chatted, he said, "Mom, you teach me a lot of stuff. You teach me about art and science and about God."  A gift beyond words to this mom.

I love our public school. I have no plans to home school my kids. But I love that my son got to enjoy his summer in a new way because his mom shifted gears.

And this summer, I discovered once again how I can be thankful for what I am learning because my son has Tourette Syndrome. Life is meant to be lived one day at a time. I need to be gentle with myself and not expect so much. I can ask for help and look for support from those who can truly give it and let go of those who can't. And I am discovering how to live life with open hands.

And I am thankful for a summer to thrive more days than not! Truly thankful. I was actually sad that school started last week. Now that is a miracle!

One Gift at a Time

                                                                    I want to let life come

                                                           One moment at a time

                                                                       One gratitude at a time

                                                            Not a list of a 1000 gifts

     Not a quota to fulfill

Not forcing my eyes to see beauty in every passing thing,

       But open and waiting to see the gift that God reveals.

I want a life surrendered 

to whatever may come

His gifts to me this day

And maybe the same tomorrow

One moment at a time

One gift at a time

A Dance in the Sand

A Dance in the Sand

The announcement at the door

I need to wear my tutu to the beach

I want to dance in the sand

I want to walk on my tiptoes

I want to dance 

She lifts up her arms 

She twirls to the rhythm of surf

She dances

Free

No inhibitions

She wants to dance

To feel the sand in her toes

To listen to the sound of the waves

She prances

She runs

She dances

I want to dance on the beach

I want to have no inhibitions

I want to dance with my girl

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.

Gratitude - Selah

To learn more about this series, please visit SELAH.

I bought fuji apples today. I buy apples twice a week. My kids love them. I love them. But today was different. I cut open my apple and found MITSU, the honey spot in a fuji apple. I just stared at it. My daughter had no idea why I was grinning. I said, "Mitsu! Mitsu in my apple. I can't believe it!"

For those who follow my blog, you know I wrote about mitsu a few days ago. I haven't seen it in an apple for years. I was so excited! Mitsu always reminds me of Japan.

Today, all these memories from Japan came rushing back to me. But the one that stood out was my first Sunday in Japan after arriving from the States. I was 23 years old. After attending the worship service at Sakai International Bible Chapel (a city outside of Osaka) where I would go every Sunday for next two years, the ladies gathered in the small kitchen to prepare green tea and snacks. Today was special because someone had brought a box of 16 big beautiful fuji apples each individually wrapped in a protective holder. One apple probably cost the equivalent of five U.S. dollars or more. (That was two decades ago!) It was November and the perfect time to celebrate the gift of these beautiful apples with everyone.

I was asked to help prepare the apples. When I cut the first one open, I noticed some darker color inside and began to remove it and then throw it in the wastebasket. All of a sudden, several women were talking in animated voices and telling me something in Japanese. I now know they were probably saying, "MITSU DESU!" One of the women then said in English, "This is apple's honey. It is the sweetest part! Don't put in gomi (garbage)."

I thought about this memory today. It was my first taste of culture shock with many more to come over the next four years I lived in Japan. But what struck me today as I remembered that event was how I didn't recognize the mitsu. I had to be in another culture to even discover that it existed and then recognize that it was the best part.

Yesterday, I wrote about waiting. About how I had to learn to live in gratitude while I waited. This memory in Japan is a picture to me of that journey. Sometimes I miss what is beautiful in my life because I can't see it. Sometimes I need to be shown where to look.

Gratitude is also a spiritual discipline. Some people write out a short gratitude list every evening. I don't do that, but I do like to write a list regularly in my journal. I do it because I find that gratitude helps me to live one day at a time. I can't be thankful for something tomorrow. It hasn't happened yet. I can only be grateful for what is here today.

Today I want to pause and really live in gratitude....For the things I can't buy or collect or obtain by my own effort. Today, the mitsu in my apple at lunch is at the top of my list. I may share my list tomorrow.

How do you practice gratitude?

(We just found our second mitsu of the day! So fun!)

Waiting

When I was a college student, I worked as a staff counselor at a summer camp in Sebastopol, California. I vividly remember Steve, the lead staff counselor, gathering a group of counselors together at the base of a hiking trail for a training session. We were getting ready to work together with high school students in an intensive two-week camp and needed to be able to rely on each other.

Goat Rock at the Sonoma Coast

Steve loved to challenge us physically so that we couldn't do things on our own but had to work together. Trust each other. Listen to each other. The week prior it was a hike up Goat Rock at the beach so named on the Sonoma coastline. I dreaded these training times. I never realized until that summer that I didn't like being pushed out of my comfort zone physically. I liked to play it safe. I had fear of heights. Steve loved to get us up high!

On this particular day we were divided into groups of three. Two of us were blindfolded while the third was the leader. We were to hike up a narrow trail with our leader guiding us. The trail was steep, narrow, missing steps with rebar (steel bar) jutting out. I joined my group of three, put on my blindfold, and listened to our leader as he asked us to hold hands. His voice then guided us where to place our left, then right foot, as we made our way up the trail.

At one point in the journey, our leader stopped us on the trail and said, "Kim, you'll have to wait here. I can't lead you both at the same time. Wait until I come back to get you."  I stopped and waited while he led my friend on up the trail. I waited and waited. I knew this trail. Just last week I had been with the team rebuilding steps. I thought, "I can go forward by myself". With my blindfold on, I bent down and started to use my hands to feel the steps. They were missing. I had no idea what was up ahead. I only tried for a few seconds and decided that I needed to wait until I could be guided by someone who could actually see.

What struck me about this moment was that I even considered going forward at all. Why couldn't I just stand there and wait? Why did I hate waiting so much? Why was I so determined to move forward even though our leader promised he'd come back for me?

I have come back to that experience many times in my life when I have had to wait. I know a lot about waiting. I waited month after month in hopes of a pregnancy. Those months turned into years. I waited for doctors to tell me if the procedure was successful for a pregnancy. I waited for paperwork to be approved for the adoption process. I waited for the pain to lesson from a failed adoption. I waited for the courage to try again. I waited for the phone call that said we'd been chosen. I waited for the baby to arrive and be placed in my arms. I waited for the adoption to be finalized. And then I did the adoption process all over again a second time.

I know waiting. Waiting that is filled with wishing and longing. Some days I waited with hope. Some days with fear. Some days with surrender. Some days I waited in tears.

During my years of infertility, I asked God for a miracle. I wept. I pleaded. I waited. I wrestled with God and asked him why he didn't give us a miracle. When I looked to the Biblical narrative, I found many times when God's people had to wait. But I struggled as I looked for comfort and only read of barren women who all got their miracle -- a pregnancy.

But there was a place that gave me comfort. It was a place that surprised me. It came from what was not written. I was drawn to the silent years of Jesus' life. The Gospels give an account of Jesus' birth, of an event when he was a young boy, and then when he began his ministry when he was around 30 years old. He then began to reveal himself and do miracles. But Jesus lived for years in Nazareth before anyone knew who he was. He must have known people he had grown up with who were sick, dying, hurting. And yet, he had to wait. It wasn't his time to reveal himself. He didn't heal them even though his heart must have longed to do so. He had to wait until it was His time. Even Jesus had to wait for God's timing. This gave me profound comfort in the midst of my waiting.

God's timing is a mystery.

Sometimes the journey of waiting presses in on how I see God. Is he truly loving and good all the time? Sometimes it pushed in more than I thought I could bear. God's timing is a mystery. And somewhere along the way, I began to live in the mystery.

That doesn't mean that I ignored my grief and pain. But I had to learn how to live in the midst of the waiting. For me that meant living one day at a time. I had to choose to stop living in "if only I had a baby, I will be happy."  Slowly, I found I could do one day at a time. When I looked at tomorrow, it was too scary. Some days I did that better than others. Some days I needed to be gentle with myself when my empty arms were too heavy with grief. But slowly, I began to choose to start looking for the things that were good and beautiful in my life in the midst of the pain...one day at a time.

I have friends who are waiting. For a baby. For a job. For a spouse. For an end to chronic pain. For an adoption to be finalized. For a family member to choose recovery. I wish I could tell them how long they will have to wait. I wish I could tell them that they will get what they are waiting for. But I can't. And I don't know what they need. But I can ask. I can listen. I can wait with them and pray with them and let them share their pain. I can walk with them.

I still don't like waiting. I still want to rush through it and try to find a way out. Steve knew what he was doing that summer in 1989. He knew that we needed each other to help us up the trail. We can't get very far when we try to do it on our own. We don't have to wait alone.

Delicious Autumn

Delicious autumn! My very soul is wedded to it, and if I were a bird I would fly about the earth seeking the successive autumns. -- George Eliot

Autumn always reminds me of the years I spent in Japan and how I enjoyed my favorite season. When a student would bring a large fuji apple to share with everyone in the English class. A hike to the nearby mountains to view the momiji  or maple trees.  The taste of a sweet crisp persimmon or the smell of chestnuts roasting at the kiosk near the train station. A trip to an onsen or natural hot spring. Oh I miss that!

Japan is a culture that pauses to enjoy the coming of each new season. If you ever visit a traditional Japanese garden, you'll notice that the landscape is designed so there is a burst of color for every season. Cherry blossoms and azaleas in the spring, hydrangea and iris in the summer, ginkgo trees and Japanese maples for fall, and plum trees in late winter. Just to name a few. The gardens are a picture of how the culture is intentionally infused with traditions to celebrate the beauty of all four seasons.

My experience in Japan helps me to see each new season as a time to pause and enjoy its simple gifts. In many ways, it's how children enjoy nature when they marvel at a caterpillar or ant or cloud. When I pause, it renews my soul especially when life feels busy and over-scheduled. Maybe it is because these gifts are free and require no planning. Maybe it's because the God who created me knows that I need to remember that life is not just about doing but also about being.

Even though fall seems to elude us here in Southern California and we don't have drastic changes in weather, there is still evidence of a change of season. I love how the shadows change and lengthen earlier in the day. Or how the sun seems to set slower in the evenings with deeper hues of orange and magenta. I love to soak in the warm sunlight as it beams through my window in the late afternoon on a crisp cool day. I sip a cup of Yorkshire Gold tea and let it warm my cold hands. I slice a fuji apple and look for the sweet honey spot or mistu inside. So common in Japan but I have only found it once since I returned home 14 years ago. What a gift it was for the season!

So today I will enjoy the simple beauty of this time of year. I will not get distracted by all the activities or the commercial displays but will soak in the beauty of God's creation. It may mean that I'll need to slow down and become aware of what I can see, smell, taste, hear and touch. What will I notice today? What can I be grateful for? What mistu does God want to give me today?

Delicious autumn. I will savor you today and feed my soul.