Christmas Morning

Christmas has been so fun with the kids. They were blessed with so many presents from grandparents and aunts (thanks again everyone!) Jonathan had grown so much in the last year that he was starting to look like one of those circus clowns riding a tiny bike. The last few weeks, he had been borrowing Joshua's bike, even though it was too big for him, and with much protest from Josh. Here's a video of Jon finding his new bike on Christmas morning. (Sorry Mom, I know you can't watch this.)

They have turned into Wii zombies with their new games:Toy Story Mania (in 3-D, thus the glasses) and Lego Star Wars 3...

Lily has been cooking up a storm in her new "My Little Kitchen" that I was up until past midnight on Christmas Eve putting together-it's amazing there were no left over pieces and it actually looks like the picture because I needed toothpicks to keep my eyelids open. It made me remember the year that Luis stayed up late putting together a motorized go cart for Josh in Arizona. Ahhh, the things we do for our little munchkins.

It was a great holiday, just short of perfect because I wasn't with my extended family but phones and skype help make my loved one seem close. Hope everyone had a wonderful Christmas. Next stop, Hampton to see both sides of our South Carolina family, and then the New Years bash at Redemption-can't wait!

It's hard to believe another season of decorations, hiding presents and spelling out words so Lily doesn't know what we are talking about is coming to a close, but it's wonderful that the peace of this season lingers all year long.

Shattered

A couple of day ago, I went shopping with the kids. As we strolled up and down the aisles, Josh reached for something off the shelf and accidentally knocked a piggy bank down, and broke it. He was immediately repentant, and really felt so badly about breaking it. He felt even worse when I told him to pick up the pieces and that we would have to pay for it. I could tell he was sorry and embarrassed, along with a whole flurry of other emotions that my sweet first born usually feels. As we approached the cashier, I could tell Josh was growing more uneasy, and he repeatedly apologized and told me how bad he felt that he did it. I reassured him that I understood that it was an accident and reminded him that he needed to be more careful in the stores. It came time for us to check out, and I placed the dismembered piggy in the cashier's hand, explained that we broke it, and prepared to pay for it. She turned to her manager standing behind her, who overheard the whole conversation. With a simple shake of the head, and a smile, the manager graciously decided to not make us pay for the bank. He thanked us for our honesty, took the pig and placed it under the counter. 

Mercy. A concept that is so difficult to teach with words, and even harder to practice when we are wronged. In a matter of minutes, my children learned what mercy was in a way they will never forget. What a great teaching moment for all of us. As we sat in the car on the way home, we talked about what had just happened. I talked with the boys about how we need to be just as quick to extend mercy to each other as that manager was to us.  What a great lesson learned, I thought to myself as I drove home.

It's funny how often times when we are involved in teaching our children a lesson, shortly thereafter, we are given the amazing opportunity to walk through that lesson ourselves. Enter, my beloved Honda Pilot.

It was a gloomy, overcast day, and the rain had been off and on all morning. Josh and Jonathan were outside with a neighbor girl, playing catch with a small plastic ball, which landed on the top of my car. Josh, forgetting our rule about climbing on the cars, pulled himself up from the hood to the top, lost his balance and came down with all his weight with his elbow on my windshield.  The neighbor came rushing to the door, and told me that Josh cracked the glass on my car. I walked out, already livid with the thought of having to pay for the repair. Here's what I saw:

 I am sure my face turned a lovely shade of magenta, and I immediately sent the neighbor home. I don't remember exactly what I said, but I do remember it was loud. I lost it, right there in my driveway. I am not sure if I was more angry that Josh disobeyed or that the damage was so vast. I didn't even ask Josh if he was hurt. I sent everyone in the house, and called the insurance company. Knowing we had a $500 deductible, I held my breath while the agent looked up the details on our policy. As he told me we had 100% glass coverage and no deductible, I let out a sigh of relief. I contacted a glass place, set up an appointment, and got everything squared away with surprising ease. After all was said and done, I hung up the phone and just sat at the table, and I heard a Voice that said, "Remind Joshua that you love him." I have grown to love that Voice, and I have learned, over time, to quickly obey it as well. Josh was in the living room on the couch, and I called to him. He turned to look at me, and I said, "Bud, even though I got really mad at you for disobeying the rule, and for what you did to the car, I still love you." He started to cry, telling me that because I was so angry he thought I didn't love him. I got the chance to remind him that no matter what he does, no matter how angry I might get, my love for him would never change. I remembered the piggy bank incident from the day before, and the mercy that was extended to us. Then I realized how I blew it when it came time for me to extend mercy to my own son, whom I love so dearly. Thankfully, it is never too late to make things right, and I was given the opportunity to fix it.

Mercy is a mysterious thing, that leads you through a gambit of emotions. This whole ordeal reminded me of how Jesus had the greatest mercy of all on each one of us. Instead of making us pay for our sins, as He had every right to do, He paid for them all, once and for all, and cancelled our enormous debt that we could never have sufficiently paid. We have all learned a valuable lesson over that last few days, and I'm sure that there will be other lessons over this long vacation for us to tackle. I am so thankful that the Lord's mercies are new every morning, and His faithfulness is great, even when ours is not.

On Dasher, on Dancer...

Aren't these cute? The kids loved my attempt at a Christmas baking craft.

Thirty-nine and holding.

I feel very strange on this, the eve of my 40th birthday. My children have been especially helpful in reminding me (daily) that my birthday is coming. Jonathan asked me today if I was going to wake up tomorrow with a head full of gray hair, and Josh asked me if cars were around when I was young. The other day, I took Lily to the doctor, and when the little girl that walked into the room introduced herself as Dr. Jones, I almost tripped over my jaw as it hit the floor. The only consolation is that Luis will always be 3 years older than me, something that I remind him of every chance I get (haha). I remember thinking when I was young, that 40 was ancient. Over the hill. The beginning of the end. Now that the minutes are ticking by, I am starting to rethink my position on that stance. After all, I haven't even SEEN a hill yet, and I still have more brunette than gray (and no, I have never colored my hair!). Alas, I must admit, reality is reality, and there is no denying the inevitable. Many times, I have encouraged my friends and family who have preceded me in reaching this milestone by saying that 40 is just a number, and you are only as old as you feel. Well, now that the shoe is on the other foot, I have to say it isn't so comforting when 40 is YOUR number, and I don't feel a day over...39.

But, all joking aside, it really doesn't bother me (too badly) about turning 40. I have to say that the last 10 years have been my sweetest, most fabulous yet, and I am expecting my 40s to be even better. I don't wish to be a teenager again. I don't even long for my college days, although they were exciting and life changing. My twenties were a blur, although some of the most important decisions of my life occurred between the ages of 22 and 25. So, all in all, I have to say, Dear 40, I look forward to all you have to offer. I welcome you with open arms, a few gray hairs, and a couple of wrinkles. I have a feeling this will be my best decade yet! 

Pecan Epiphany

Today I sat for about an hour and shelled some pecans that we had gathered a month ago. It's a daunting task to shell pecans, and it's no wonder they cost about $10 per pound in the stores if you want them in halves. After the third nut that shattered in my hand, I went online to see if there was a better way to extract a worthy-sized nut from these wretched shells. There were various techniques I found that people swore by, but it seems like you have to just use trial and error until you get it. At about the half hour mark, I started to get the feel for how much pressure I needed to exert to crack the outer shell, yet keep the nut in one piece. Then, once I cracked it enough, I could wiggle the nut out of where it was nestled, and add it to my pile. As I cracked and cracked, I had a thought: Pecans are just like people. Not in the "nut" sense (although, there are a few of those, too!) but in the sense that each person has some sort of outer shell, that protects a treasure on the inside.

As I was cracking the pecans, some of them were so hard. Even with the force of a strong grip and a nut cracker, I was not able to make a single crack. This pecan reminded me of those people that have lived such difficult, rough lives, which have driven them to shut themselves out from the rest of the world. They figure if they put a tough enough barrier around them, they will never again feel the pain, disappointment or rejection that the world can, at times, so easily dish out.

Some of the pecans cracked with great ease. So much so, that in one squeeze of the nutcracker, the whole nut broken into hundreds of tiny pieces, and instead of trying to salvage each minuscule piece of pecan, I just discarded to whole thing and went on to the next one. It reminded me of people who are on the verge of a breakdown. So distraught and broken on the inside, that even normal, every day pressure is enough to shatter them completely.

Other pecans I cracked, revealed a nut inside that was shrivelled and dried up. Inedible, undesirable, and worn out. Ironically, those were the pecans that came out whole, but only because the dryness has caused them to shrink away from the shell and lose all their flavor.

On the rare occasion, I had just the right pressure, and technique, and I was able to hold a whole pecan in the palm of my hand. In my hour of cracking, I managed to get only four whole pecans.

Each pecan different, each result unique. Although every nut fell from the same tree, and from the outside surface appeared to be relatively similar, each nut inside had a its own individual character. Just as all of us are human, and seem to be somewhat similar on the outside, who we really are in the inside can vary so dramatically. As someone cracking nuts, I am able to be selective about what I save and what I discard. Whether I want to waste my time cracking shells or if I would rather let someone else do it for me, is my choice. As I sat and cracked, I kept thinking what a long time it was taking to get such small results. Often I wondered if it was even worth my effort at all. As a human, I have to admit, I sometimes feel the same way about relationships with people. Some are so difficult to handle, so hardened, that I wonder if I can even make a difference. I ponder whether I might even get hurt in the process. Others are so fragile, so delicate, that it's just a matter of moments before they break. Am I willing to be there to help pick up the pieces? Then there are those who are dry and withered and life has evaporated from them. There isn't anything that I, in my human abilities, could even do for them. And those that are whole, pleasing and pleasant seem to be so few and far between. In all of these situations, I, in myself, lack the ability, the strength and sometimes even the motivation to be willing to reach out to those around me. But I, as a child of God, with Holy Spirit power living on the inside of me, possess the tools, the technique and power to reach out to whomever God puts in my path, with effectiveness and love, transforming the hardest of hearts, the most delicate of souls, or the driest spirit. When we realize all that our Savior has done to redeem us, we are then, out of thankful hearts, able to bring the gift of redemption to others.

What a perfect picture of God's kingdom at work within us, touching the world around us, to bring God's realm from heaven to earth once again.