Do you hear what I hear...

I am the only one awake, and the house is quiet. This is the time of the night when I can hear sounds that usually fade into the background next to the sounds of two healthy, energetic boys. Without even trying, I can hear the quiet hum of the computer...the swishing of the dishwasher...if I focus a little more, I can tune my ear to the deep breathing of little ones fast asleep with not as much as a single care in the world. If I listen even more intently, I can hear the sound of peace...no, it's not readily audible...but rather a subtle, motionless calm. It is something I could never create, for even the attempt would be loud in comparison. It is a gift that has been extended...not one I have earned or even deserve. Sometimes I forget it's here...or even sweep it out the door inadvertently. Sometimes I overlook it, and fail to give it it's proper respect. Sometimes my words disturb it, cut through it like a knife, and I toss by the wayside the very thing that my heart needs most. But as the coldness of it's absence drifts through the rooms, and the chill of the void brushes my arm, I am reminded that all I have to do is let the peace back in...and upon the invitation, it rushes in like a flood, bringing a warmth and glow to everyone and everything it touches. The Prince of Peace came to us on Christmas. And He continues to come to whomever desires Him...bringing peace like a river...peace that passes all understanding...peace in the storm...peace. Stop. Listen. Do you hear what I hear?

Santa Claus is coming to town

This is something that was in our Women's Ministries Newsletter for this month, and I liked it...and thought you would too!

Why Jesus is Better Than Santa Claus

Santa lives at the North Pole...JESUS is everywhere. Santa rides in a sleigh...JESUS rides on the wind and walks on the water. Santa comes but once a year...JESUS is an ever present help. Santa fills your stockings with goodies...JESUS supplies all your needs. Santa comes down your chimney uninvited...JESUS stands at you door and knocks, and then enters your heart when invited. You have to wait in line to see Santa...JESUS is as close as the mention of His name. Santa lets you sit on his lap...JESUS lets you rest in His arms. Santa doesn't know your name, all he can say is "Hi little boy or girl, what's your name?"...JESUS knew our name before we were born. Not only does He know our name, He knows our address, too. He knows our history and future and He even knows how many hairs are on our heads. Santa has a belly like a bowl full of jelly...JESUS has a heart full of love. All Santa can offer is HO HO HO...JESUS offers health, help, and hope. Santa says, "You better not cry"...JESUS says "Cast all you cares on me for I care for you." Santa's little helpers make toys...JESUS makes new life, mends wounded hearts, repairs broken homes and builds mansions. Santa may make you chuckle but...JESUS gives you joy that is your strength. While Santa puts gifts under your tree...JESUS became our gift and died on a tree...the cross. Let's remember to keep Christ in Christmas...Jesus is the reason for the season.

and here's one more...(this one really hit home...especially the part about he kids and husband!)

1 Corinthians 13 applied to Christmas

If I decorate my house perfectly with plaid bows, stands of twinkling lights and shiny balls, but do not show love, I am just another decorator. If I slave away in the kitchen, baking dozens of Christmas cookies, preparing gourmet meals and arranging a beautiful adorned table at mealtime, but do not show love, I'm just another cook. If I work at the soup kitchen, carol in the nursing home and give all that I have to charity, but do not show love, it profits me nothing. If I trim the spruce with shimmering angels and crocheted snowflakes, attend a myriad of holiday parties and sing in the choir's cantata, but do not focus on Christ, I have missed the point.

Love stops the cooking to hug the child. Love sets aside the decorating to kiss the husband. Love is kind, though harried and tired. Love doesn't envy another's home that has coordinated Christmas china and table linens. Love doesn't yell at the kids to get out of the way, but is thankful they are there to be in the way. Love doesn't give only to those who are able to give in return, but rejoices in giving to those who can't. Love bears all things, endures all things. Love never fails.

Video games will break, pearl necklaces will be lost, golf clubs will rust, but giving the gift of love will endure.

O Christmas tree, O Christmas tree...

...how lovely are your branches...well, what little there are of them, anyway! haha..Luis, the boys and I went out to our little woods behind our house and chopped (well, chainsaw-ed) our quaint little tree for Christmas. Now, we don't have the lovely Douglas firs or scotch pines...the ones like Dad use to go a cut down for us...we have the old southern pines. So, since we are being frugal (cheap), and since we wanted the fragrance of a real tree, we went out and hunted for the best one we could find. For those of you who aren't familiar with the southern pine variety of a Christmas tree, don't feel bad..it's because it was never meant to be a Christmas tree. Our pines are about 25-30 feet tall...all trunk until the very top. So you can't really see what your tree is going to look like until you cut the tree down. Since we don't want to kill more than one tree for our living room, we take what we cut, trying our best to eye a good one from the ground. Then we do our best to fill in the gaps with the many ornaments we have collected over the years. Although our little Christmas tree looks just like the one Charlie Brown brought back to the Christmas play, and was ridiculed for, we gave it some love, and made it our own. We took the rest of the night to decorate our tree, while the holiday channel played our favorite Christmas songs. We drank cocoa, and ate cookies, then watched a Christmas movie. It turned out to be a fine day!!

This afternoon, when we came home from church, our precious little tree was lying lifeless, in the middle of the living room floor...I think it was a sign...Our treasure of a tree has been evicted from the house altogether, and now resides on the front porch...I informed Luis that next year, we're getting a fake one!

Exposed

The other day, I was making breakfast for the family...a Parra favorite- homemade French Toast! As I was cracking the eggs, I noticed that a piece of shell fell into the bowl. I ever so carefully used the broken egg shell to attempt to retrieve the renegade tidbit, which had quickly hidden under one of the yokes. As I finagled my way around the yoke, the edge of the shell caught the side of the yoke and all of a sudden...POP!!! The yoke broke.

I don't know if God talks to everyone in the same manner, but God spoke something to me that morning as I was fishing out the shell from my eggs. He said, "That's how a life is...when that life chooses Me over all the desires and trappings of the world, that life walks with a shield encircling them...a shield that comes from Me...when the attacks and snares of the world try to destroy the very life I have created, this shield is impervious. But, when a life chooses to step outside of the bounds of My protection, and leave the habitat I so carefully formed for it, it becomes so very fragile, so exposed...because it is outside of the destiny, the provincial armor in which I have created for it to live."

I began to think of how far this egg must have travelled...all of the bumping and jostling along it's long journey...and ever so miraculously safe inside the shell that was designed for it's protection. Not even as much as a crack on the outer shell...divine security. But then, the minute that egg left the safety of it's Creator's perfectly devised environment (and entered my bowl!), it was suddenly left unprotected in a place it was never created to be and became so very vulnerable...even to the very shell that was once it's safe haven. I began to think of how it is when we willingly and knowingly step out of God's perfect will for our lives, and we too find ourselves defenseless...far from the shielding hands of the Father...not that He doesn't desire to care for us, but He can not go against His own word...and that Word, which was meant to guide and keep us, must now judge us, when we choose to deliberately walk contrary to that which we know to be just and right and pure.

I have lived on both sides of that "shell". The peace, the sure foundation, the confidence that comes from knowing that God's own hands are surrounding us every moment...every step...every breath...when we choose to walk in the path that He has, so beautifully, created for us...is something I pray I never take for granted...and something I do not ever wish to live without again.

A heart full of thanks

I am always very nostalgic around this time of the year (to which I chalk up to being my Dad's daughter-I love you Dad!!), and I often catch myself remembering how we celebrated Thanksgiving growing up. As you might well expect, a family of ten brought it's share of excitement and stories over the years. I will always cherish the hustle and bustle of everyone home for the holidays...a crowded house...sitting elbow to elbow in our little ranch home that was filled with love. I can almost hear the sound of Mom's old meat grinder, pushing out ounces and ounces of what was to become the coveted Turkey Pate. Those of us who had been craving it for the last twelve months knew that we had better get our fill before Gregg came home...or else we would have to wait until next year for another cracker full...I remember watching Dad carve the turkey just so...every piece cut to perfection...white meat on one side, dark on the other...and sneaking a taste for Gram during the slicing...I remember setting the tables...both the "grown up" table and the "kids table" and using the REAL cloth napkins...knowing they were saved for this special day...Mom outdid herself every year...making a feast fit for kings...then, when we had all sat down, Dad would read from his little burgundy Bible, and get teary when he talked about the goodness of the Lord, and all of His blessings He had shown to our family. (This teary part, I also inherited from my Dad!) I remember the folding of hands, the bowing of heads, and the peacefulness of a home that was simple, yet immense with respect to the impact that it had on every soul who entered.

Then, with each clink of a fork, and every "please pass the rolls", we would, without even realizing it, make memories that would last a lifetime. On this Eve of Thanksgiving, as I remember special times of years past, there is a fullness in my heart for a family that is unlike any other. Not because it was perfect or because it was without it's share of ups and downs...but just because it was mine.