Growing Still

Thanksgiving drifted into Christmas and Christmas slid into January. The weather up at the cottage was just how Dave likes it...cold and snowy. We took full advantage of it with downhill skiing, cross country skiing, ice skating, snow shoeing and sledding.

The first day of January fell softly like the snow out the window.
It's newness reminded me of birth, of a wrinkled wise baby waiting to grown into itself.
We spent time together as a family, dedicating the baby year. Asking God to grow it strong and healthy and hopeful.

Then we came home and I moved back into the comfortable, happy rhythm of school and life with my husband and four children on the path toward adulthood. The familiarity of schedule is good, but there's a deeper good underneath it. I know I am growing. There have been years spent just trying to maintain sanity. Years when growth was, I thought, only what the children did.

Rose bringing in the New Year with Elijah and Annaka

Maybe it had something to do with an impulse I had right before Christmas. Our family initiated our new house with a game of sardines. We used to play it in our old house but just hadn't gotten around to it here. All the lights were out except the Christmas lights and we hid and found and frolicked. Then, inspired by the levity of the moment, I popped in a video of myself (previously unviewed by the kids) dancing and singing when I was 14. My children were shocked. I was obviously not stage shy. I danced with full abandon. After watching that video I had an epiphany. I am growing. I wasn't that same girl shimmying across the stage. I had grown demure.

Once I woke up to the fact, I saw other evidences. I could keep my mouth shut for longer periods of time. My devotions were consistent. I kept my temper with Rose during math (this is meant to be a general statement). Growing is present tense. I'm still in the midst of it. But it's there, and it's good.

So the year started and I recognize it as a journey, a single stair, a stepping stone.
Another opportunity to grow along with it.
So I dedicate myself again and I ask God to make me strong and healthy and hopeful.
And nice.
And sensitive.
And forgiving....good thing I'm only in my forties!

My niece Saylor

I try to remember that this is where we all are. In process. Being born. Growing up.

Happy baby year to you....may it be full of growth and joy....may it live up to its potential.

Waiting in White

Christmas and New Years and a white world.

We wake up to the sifting of frozen precipitation on our cottage.
Wide eyes and wider smiles greet the morning and jammies are exchanged for snow pants with amazing rapidity.

There was sledding, cross country skiing, down-hill skiing, snow ball fights, and snow angels.

I watched the comings and goings of the kids and Dave and various friends.
I watched from the inside. Somehow, I didn't have the strength to battle elements.
I needed the beauty of a white world from the comfort of a warm cottage.

After a week of watching I finally ventured out into a 19 degree morning. I walked a circuit that normally takes me 20 minutes. It took much longer as I had to fight for my steps through the deep snow. My exposed face ached with cold. I was tired when I came in but not exhausted. My week of rest held me in good stead and gave me an understanding of the coming year.

Soak in the beautiful.
Don't rush out just because everyone else is.
Venture forth in the right time, rested and ready for the challenge.
Engage the path and learn from the experience.

Mostly, I learned again what the cottage teaches me in every season.

Listen.
Slow down.
Watch carefully.
Feel deeply.
Engage.
Give thanks.
Love beautifully.

"Because of the Lord's great love we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail.
      They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness.
               I say to myself, 'The Lord is my portion; therefore I will wait for him.'
The Lord is good to those whose hope is in him, to the one who seeks him;
        it is good to wait quietly for the salvation of the Lord."

~Lamentations 3:22-26

Default

I learned my default early on. Default, the position my heart fell into when not consciously being deliberate in my faith.

Sixteen years ago, Dave and I spent our first Valentines Day up in a cabin in the woods. A group of friends came over and we went cross country skiing. After dinner they left to drive the hour or so back home. Not five minutes after they had gone, Dave realized one of them left their cross country ski rentals at our cabin. Dave is a man of action. He grabbed the skis in one hand and the car keys in the other and bolted.

I dimpled up at the thought of surprising him when he came home. I lit a myriad of candles in the living room, got a full fire going, and slipped into something less, well, less. I settled into a flattering position on a chair next to the fire, arranged my hair, and waited. And waited. And then I heard the sirens.

Unbeknownest to me, Dave was unable to catch his friend, so he just decided to go into town and find the ski shop his friend had rented them from, and return them for him. The town was half an hour away. Then were several ski shops that had to be located and inquired into. It took him a long time. This was pre-cell phone era.

Meanwhile, the fire's dying (literally and figuratively). At the sound of the sirens, tears started sliding down my face. My thoughts ran like this, "I am a 23 year old widow. Dave is dead. I don't have any nice black clothes to wear to the funeral. I am all alone. Forever. I'm too sad to go shopping but I don't have any nice black clothes. Dave is never coming back to see how cute I am sitting here. Poor Dave." etc.

Two hours later Dave came home to his bride. He had a blizzard from Dairy Queen in each hand.
He found me in fetal position, sobbing, swollen faced, and muttering something about black dresses.

Eventually I recovered enough to eat the blizzard.

I learned several things from that brutal Valentines Day. But the most important thing I learned was this, my default is fear.

If you recall, I said earlier that my husband is a man of action. With that statement comes the assurance that I've had many, many chances to reaffirm that, yes, my default is fear. Add children who largely take after their father, and yes, my default is fear.

But I've learned something else over the last 16 years of marriage, God can reset your default.

So I've made my homepage my Bible and the face book I peer into is the Book that shows me the face I want, the face of Jesus. I slowly trade in my fear for the peace and joy and faith that He offers. My default changes. My husband doesn't change, my children don't change, but my default changes.

We celebrated New Years this year up at the cottage. The children were asleep and Dave and I were playing cards when a storm came up. It was sudden and violent. Dave and I looked at each other in alarm. We knew that there were 3 very dead, very big trees directly behind the cottage. We weren't expecting a storm before we had time to cut them down.

"Let's get the boys. Stay away from the windows."

My husband is a man of action. Within minutes, we had the boys moved downstairs on cots, out of the vulnerable position of the room nearest the trees.

Rowan awoke in the process and wanted me to stay with him downstairs. I curled up on the couch while Dave went upstairs where the girls were.

The wind was possessed. Debris flew past the windows. The rain appeared to be horizontal. With every gust my default spoke like this, "God thank you for your protection. I know you will never leave us nor forsake us. Thank you for a roof over our heads. Thank you that you love these children even more than I do. Thank you for your grace that is always sufficient. Thank you for your peace that passes all understanding."

When we listen to God's Words more than our own words, more than our friend's words, more then this world's words, our default changes. The storms rage, but we don't.

The default the Lord offers is praise.
I open the Word and reset.
Daily.

A Plump New Year.

Christmas was slow this year. Actually calm and gradual. One lovely day slipping into another. Late nights and later mornings and bananas for breakfast at 11am. My mind was quiet and my heart beat soft.

And after Christmas, the cottage. The magic of 2 feet of snow. Dave sledding down the roof with the kids. "Haven't you always wanted to do this?!" he shouted to me. No. No. My childhood fantasies never included roof sledding.

Days of snowshoeing and sledding and skiing. Nights of charades and cocoa and cuddles.

Good, good, memories. Grant telling me he just wants to hug me because I'm so plump. Okay, maybe that wasn't one of the best memories. But his Christmas present to me was. A letter. Just little boy chicken-scratch on half a piece of paper, but oh, the gift of it.

"....Overall, pretty much what I am saying is that your a faithful woman that loves God so much and you are loving, kind, etc. as God taught you to be....Keep it up!"

As God taught me to be. Yes. None of us exit the womb Christ-like. We have to be born again for that to happen. And it's a process. Sometimes a painfully slow one. But I have a good teacher. A God who walked this road before me, felt the needs in the squalor around Him, tasted the ecstasy of beauty, loves and laughs and lives.
Yes, I celebrate the present tense, I celebrate the God that always is.

The God that is with me this week as I forge into school and lessons and life with many little people (my mother included).
I'll keep the course faithfully, spurred by a 10 year-olds' encouragement to....
Keep it Up!

The Wood Between the Worlds....

In the The Magician's Nephew, the opening book of C.S. Lewis' Narnia series, there is quite a bit of world hopping.

Digory and Polly put on their magic rings and have grand adventures in other worlds.

The place they must go to access these worlds is called "the wood between the worlds." It is a forest filled with pools. Each pool's bottom is a different world. It is still and green and quiet in this wood. The only sound is the sound of the trees growing. There are no birds and no wind. Here, Polly and Digory sit on the shore before their adventures begin. They remember who they are and what their mission is and then they jump into a pool. But first, they mark the pool that takes them home.

This week is always a "wood between the worlds" for me. 2010 lies behind and 2011 beckons before, and I sit on the shore and remember who I am and what my mission is. I mentally follow the trail of where I've come this year and I tentatively, prayerfully, map out the trail of where I want to go.

I vow to explore, be creative and adventurous, but to always mark first the pool that takes me home.

I know there will be many changes this year, I can sense them piling up. But, no matter what changes come in our family, in our country, in our world; we serve the changeless One. Obedience to Him and faith in His Son will always bring us home to relationship with Him. So I have no fear of what lies at the bottom of any given pool, only an anticipation for the experiences before me, only an eagerness to know Him more.

"'One-Two-Three-Go!' said Digory. And they jumped."