This is Christmas

There is a place where love and tears meet and grace flows freely.

There is a place where weak are made strong and the strong are humbled into the place of weakness.  

There is a place where our very human experience is made sacred, holy, right.  

A place that exists because a baby entered into our darkness, a place where angels fought the darkness with their songs and announced the Christ child's birth.  

Yesterday, I saw a glimpse of this place, friends gathered to sing, singing songs about this Christ child to those weak, those humbled, those twisted and worn-out, to those precious and beautiful, to those created in the very image of God waiting to enter His presence, to those created in His image that haven't yet received His Son.

My tears flowed as I watched a 5 year-old friend smile and say Merry Christmas

a 10 year-old son sing earnestly, 

a 11 year-old son try to finding his footing in this sacred place,

11 year-old friend eagerly give good gifts,

13 year-old daughter sing like an angel, 

teenage friends stoop and gently touch the tired, the worn out whispering, "You are loved", 

adult friends saying, "You are not forgotten, I see you" 

and elderly friends stoop down and look directly into the eyes of the worn out, the twisted, the tired, the ready to leave this earth and say, "Your soul is not worn out, your soul has unimaginable worth" 

and my heart cried, "This is where love and tears meet, this is where grace flows freely, this is where the weak are made strong and the strong are humbled into the place of weakness...this is sacred, this is holy, this is right."

As we sang, "O Holy Night", I heard lyrics in a way I had never heard them before...

"'til he appeared and the soul felt its worth, 

a thrill of hope, the weary world rejoices"

This is what brings worth, its in the reaching, and stooping and touching one another.  This is the loving and the serving of one another. This is worship. This is Christmas.

Grace

This is a week full of dates to remember.... St Nicholas Feast Day,  The Attack on Pearl Harbor, The Treaty of Paris, the birthdays of many friends, my cousin's birthday, and my sister's birthday.  But there were two dates that ate away at me all day today, the day my mom had surgery for cancer and the day I finished my Masters.  Those two dates are oddly connected in my mind.  One difficult, one celebration.  One the beginning of a journey, the other the end of a journey. They intersected the same year, at the same time.  I had one final paper the day my mom went into surgery.  My procrastination had won out, I thought I would have it done, but instead I sat in the hospital cafeteria typing a paper.  Six years later I'm not even sure what it was about, but the memory of sitting, typing and watching the snow fall is still fresh in my  mind.  Tonight I went to put on the necklace my husband gave me for graduation and every fear, every worry, every unknown came flying back at me.  Fear I had laid to rest, worry that had passed its expiration and unknowns that had become known.

Its in those moments that I can get lost in the past unless I hold on to the promise

 ~ "You will never be alone" 

Its in those moments when I want to seek comfort rather than Christ 

~ "I will be your rock"

  Its in those moments that I want to be grumpy rather than grateful 

~ "Rejoice in everything"

Its in those moments when I need

~ Grace

Grace has come.  With time grace has been poured out richly.  The more I watch for it the more I see ~ Grace!  Grace in the snow falling, Grace in the wind speaking His name, Grace in the presence of friends and co-laborers, Grace in a child's smile, a tween's look and teen's sarcasm, Grace in a husband who knows just how to reach my heart.  Grace.  Grace has been the fruit of the journey.  Grace is the reward of entering into the hard places.  It doesn't matter what happened a year ago this week, six years ago or centuries ago, God's grace hasn't changed.  May God pour His grace out on you and May you receive it and cherish the wonder of it.

Advent. Waiting. Coming

Its the last night of the first week of Advent, a week to think about Christ's coming, a week to think about the waiting, a week to think about the story, a week to experience change. 

 I started this week wondering, where has my wonder gone?  Do I still anticipate?   

Do I still get the chills at the thought of this God-child come to rescue me?   

And so I immerse myself in "the story" told in different ways but all pointing towards my Savior.  

All breathing wonder.  All whispering His name.  

All saying, here is the the Savior, here is the one come to rescue you.  

Advent.  Waiting.  Coming.

Advent.  Anticipation.  Wonder

"Somehow, this baby in this carpenter's home, in the middle of the village night, was the magnificent unmoving star, the center of all moving things, of all life, of the whole world."

Seeker of the Stars by Susan Fish

Inexpressible

The word of the day... inexpressible.  Some days are full of inexpressible joy and others.... inexpressible pain, sorrow and grief.  Last night, a dear one in our fellowship of believers entered the presence of Jesus. We mourn the loss of her presence on this earth and the grief is inexpressible.  This morning a friend sent me a text with this verse...

Likewise the Spirit helps us in our weakness. 

 For we do not know what to pray for as we ought, 

but the Spirit himself intercedes for us with groanings too deep for words.

Romans 8:26

I am comforted, I may not know what to pray or how to express, but the Spirit is expressing it beautifully to the Father.  The Spirit knows what to pray, knows how to comfort, knows how to enter into our grief.   The tears will not end soon, and this moment will always be inexpressible but we have an advocate that will continue to express and pray on our behalf through the inexpressible.

Please remember this family in prayer, this husband, these precious three children.  Please remember this body of believers and this community.  Let the Spirit of God inside of you intercede on their behalf.  He will be the comforter.

Learning, Learning, Learning, Always Learning

I have learned more the last 8 years teaching my kids than I ever could have imagined.  Of course I have brushed up on my world history, learning about events and people that I didn't even know existed before teaching my first grader "The Story of The World".  And I've learned new techniques for everything under the sun.  I know more phonics rules than I knew before but I've also learned some things about my children and about myself.  Over the next couple of weeks, I'm going to share some of the things I've learned as a home educating mom.

The first thing I have learned is....

My kids need a space to be inspired.
I don't know if this happens in your house, but every time I clean up a space, I find my kids there, reading, coloring, building, listening to music, dressing up, you name it but they have just moved into my clean space.  I found this incredibly annoying for years.  It never failed, as soon as I got a room clean and organized, it was uncleaned by three charming little people.  They are now three charming big people, but this principle still stands true.  But I had a realization... they need a space to be inspired in.  Over the last couple of weeks we have re-arranged the boys room and the outdoor furniture.  One of the things that has happened is I find them reading more, because its a fun reading space.  They like the new chairs and the hammock, for now.  I find them building more because its an inspiring space.  There is more art to cover my walls and more discussions to be had, all because they had a space to be inspired in.  It can be work for me, but it is so worth it to see them inspired.

Much to "Wonder" about

One thing that is true about most middle schoolers is that at some point they are awkward.  There are those rare kids that are never awkward, that enter into middle school cute and leave beautiful.  But even those pass through a time of awkwardness... maybe not on the outside but most definitely on the inside.  There is some literature that is written for this age group seems to express this transition so well and when you read a book that touches your heart like this one, you want to tell the world.  We just finished a book that touched our hearts, Wonder by R.J. Palacio. My kids would say, you should read this book.  At the end of the book, Benji said, "I wish good books went on and on and never stopped."  I agree, it was hard to tell these characters goodbye, I even shed a tear or two or three.  I think its books like this that teach us compassion, empathy and beg us, as adults, to give our kids a vision, to share with them the hope for a future.

I really want to tell you everything about this book, but I can't, because you have to experience it for yourself.  You must jump in and laugh and cry and remember what it was to be in fifth grade, what it was to attempt the impossible task of trying to fit in.  But most of all you must meet Auggie, this young man that you will cheer for from beginning to end.  You will want to acquaint yourself to his mom and understand her hopes and dreams, her fears and worries.  You will love his friends and hate his friends and realize that at times the friendship you offer people has strings attached, your love is sometimes conditional.  I couldn't help asking myself, can a book like this help us to love others better, to understand their deepest needs and meet them better.  I don't know, but its worth a shot.

I must give a shout out to Ms. Palacio, way to hit it out of the park on your first book.  Thanks, for engaging our hearts and giving us much to talk about in our everyday life.  

Guitars, "Johnny Rockets" and Redemption

Yesterday, I had this great plan of writing this lovely blog about how amazing my husband is and how wonderful it is to celebrate his birthday... but before 1:30 pm yesterday I didn't really understand just how much resolve and courage my husband has.  The plan for yesterday was to meet my sister and go to the art museum and then head to Fort Collins for some guitar shopping.  We (Mika and I) went to the art museum with my sister and the boys hung at REI and we did go guitar shopping (spoiler alert! Paul did get a guitar) but something unexpected happen in the middle, something that has changed who we are, something that reminded us that redemption has a cost and as humans we are quick to count the cost when our Savior didn't count the cost.

While at the art museum I received a phone call from the social worker that did our home study for the adoption, which went to voice mail because I was climbing 7 flights of stairs.  In a couple of minutes I got a text from Paul saying that are SW wanted to discuss something with us.  Not thinking it was urgent... cause I tend to not think things are urgent, we went about our exploration, met up with the boys, walked to 16th Street Mall and sat for lunch.  I looked at the menu and then looked at my phone and noticed that our SW had called again.  I excused myself to find a quiet place.... Johnny Rockets is anything but quiet... and called our SW.  She told me there was a baby that needed a home and would we be interested in her showing our profile to the birth parents. The kicker was this little boy has special needs.  We had already said we would be open to it, but when she told me that and I was walking back to the restaurant to talk to Paul, I began to question it, I began to count the cost.  I motioned to Paul to come outside, how providential that my sister would be sitting at the table with us, ready and willing to entertain our kids.  We talked, prayed and sat down and waited for God to speak to our hearts.  Paul ate, shed tears, looked at me and said "you better call her back", which meant, "how could we say no".

This story doesn't end with us taking this precious one home, but it does end with us praying for this little boy.  This morning as I sit waiting, wondering, praying... I think about Sarah, Rachel, Samson's mother, Hannah, and Elizabeth... all these women in the Bible wanted a child and prayed and God answered.  Each of these women prayed for their sons in a special way, a way only a mother can pray for her children and God made these men great (human and flawed, but he used them in great and mighty ways).  I think possibly there is something special in a mother's prayers, something that can only come from a mother.  This little boy may not be mine, but I have prayed for him in a way that only a mother can pray for her child.  I have poured out my heart for this little boy, with a willingness to accept the responsibility for his body and soul.  He may not end up living in our home, but those prayers.... all of them, they will matter in eternity.

So...Paul's birthday gift... we learned a little something about redemption.  This Good Friday won't feel the same as others, because I know that He did something for me, that no human could have ever done.  He took it all and didn't count the cost.  I also learned that my husband means what he says, when he says we are about caring for orphans, he doesn't mean the ones that will be easier to love, he means that we will take the least of these into our home and pour ourselves out to be Jesus to them.  We, the Braddy's, will live out redemption.