Joyful Exhaustion

I sit writing by the light of the tree “the morning after.”  Gifts unwrapped, new toys scattered all over my living room, the lingering smell of barbecued brisket in the air, my belly still too full from dinner the night before… and still totally exhausted. 

A few weeks ago, I had the privilege to visit with a sweet friend who is expecting their first little miracle this coming spring.  She mentioned that she is a little nervous because everyone keeps telling her how she better sleep now, because once the baby arrives she will be exhausted for the rest of her life.  I told her that in my opinion, yes, parenting is exhausting, BUT it is like the kind of exhaustion you feel on Christmas night- your body is totally wiped out from all the excitement, preparation, and running around, but your heart is FULL.  And I can say, after another Christmas Day, I still feel the same way.  I would also add in the exhaustion of the unmet expectations as well. 

I was so excited yesterday morning that I could hardly stand it.  Santa had arrived and left some things I couldn’t wait for (a) to discover.  I was thankful that Santa had a helper who was willing to share some “pre-loved” toys, and because of that there were a couple big items waiting that I just knew he was going to LOVE and go crazy for.  I was tired from staying up late on Christmas Eve preparing, but I was excited and got up early in anticipation of what the day was going to bring.  However, when (a) started to stir and I ran to get him up, I discovered it was one of those mornings where he had wet the bed and we were going to have to start the day with a bath.  A grumpy bath none the less.  After the grumpy bath (A) put him in his Christmas jammies as I asked (ok, begged) so he would look super cute for pictures.  I thought we would start over fresh, got out the video camera and asked if he would like to come to the living room to see what Santa brought, to which he told me “NO!!”  Ouch… momma crushed.  He grumped around for nearly half an hour before he was willing to leave his room and come to see what was under the tree.  Thankfully when he arrived he was just as excited as I had hoped when he found his gifts.  We played for a couple hours and I decided it was time to run through the shower to get ready before some family arrived for more festivities.  As I got ready to jump in the shower I discovered my husband never even found or recognized a small, but romantic and thoughtful gift I had put together for him… again, a little crushed.  I got out of the shower only to realize I had no clean clothes that I felt suited the day AND (a) was yelling at (A) from his bedroom… never a good sign.  He had one of those (thankfully rare) explosive diapers… in his Christmas jammies… and I hadn’t even gotten any pictures yet.  Momma crushed a little more.  I was also a little panicked because the morning delay had me a little behind on the timeline of my food preparation.  By the time my parents arrived, I was still in my bathrobe (because I had started my laundry) crying because I felt like none of the day was living up to these high idealistic expectations I had of what Christmas Day with a toddler was going to be like. My mom gently reminded me of a “historic moment” in my childhood which was caught on camera where I did not live up to the excitement expectations, and she told me she had been there, it would get better. 

And she was right.  After two loads of laundry and a good solid nap for (a), I was dressed in something I wanted to wear, he was dressed in something I deemed fun for pictures, all the guests had arrived, his nap had allowed me time for food prep, mom’s help sped along the process, and we were able to enjoy the day I had “planned.” 

When the evening ended and everyone left, I collapsed on the couch and my guys took to the recliner.  I was exhausted physically, but my heart was filled with joy.  We’d had a day filled with love, and laughter, and family. I’d eaten far more food that I should have, I’d watched my son cackle with joy, ohh and ahh in discovery, love on the people who are part of “his village,” try to pull some typical ornery stunts, and most importantly tell us that he knows who Baby Jesus is and that he was born “in barn, with cows!” (“With cows” is an important detail to my little cow-man-in-training haha, he always makes sure to add that part.) 

It’s true.  Parenting is like reliving Christmas every day.  Joyful exhaustion, a body tired, but a heart full, a twinge of heartache over the unmet expectations, but the reality that it is all going to be alright. 

I sincerely hope your family had a blessed Christmas!  And now we get to do it over again 2 more times with out-of-state siblings… maybe I still will manage to sneak in the “Christmas Day family photo of the three of us” that slipped through the grasp of my expectations… 😉

Christmas Through the Eyes of...

Over the years I have collected several different Christmas decorations, but one of my favorites by far is a piece I added last year… our “Little People” Nativity set.  It has been a fun way to see Christmas through the eyes of a child.  I love watching (a) play with all the different nativity characters.  He will hug baby Jesus (he has also tried to eat him on occasion), he will show you all the animals one by one, and he LOVES the fact that the stable plays “Away in a Manger.”  There is an angel who is supposed to stand on top of the stable and be the “singer” of the song.  But for some reason (a) is obsessed with changing out who is standing on top of the stable, I have laughed and commented to (A) so many times about how frequently it changes that I started documenting it with some pictures last week.  Often there is a Magi holding his gift as he stands atop the stable, other times it is one of the donkeys or the cow (who also resembles a deer), sometimes it is the sheep, I have seen Mary up there, and once even Baby Jesus himself was the stable topper.  I have not figured out if (a) has a reasoning behind changing the characters out, or if it is just the fun of the playtime.  Either way, I love watching it and always get a giggle out of who is one top when I walk by. 

It does make me think though, the perspective of the Christmas story really changes based on whose eyes you are looking through.  Based on the picture from the box, the angel is who is supposed to stand on the top of the stable, the angels where the messengers who got to share the “good news, of great joy.”  I can’t even imagine that excitement! I remember how we felt the day (a) was born when we were able to share the much-anticipated news that he had arrived.  There was so much joy it was nearly overwhelming, and while I know all his grandparents felt like they had waited thousands of years for a baby, it was really only a 9 year wait.  But Jesus…. Literally THOUSANDS of years mankind had waited for the birth of the Messiah.  Getting to share the much-anticipated news that he had arrived must have been incredible. 

And then there were the shepherds.  I’m sure being a shepherd wasn’t the most noble of professions in those days.  They lived in the fields keeping watch over the sheep, probably smelling somewhat like the sheep, and were probably some of the least likely people to receive the news first.  But through their eyes, I can’t even imagine the love, awe, and wonder they must have felt.  Over the years as our friends have had children, I have always counted it as such a precious honor to get a call or text sharing the news of the new baby before it is “Facebook official” or public common knowledge.  I don’t know why, but it always makes me feel extra loved to “make the cut” of those who receive a personal announcement from the happy family.  Knowing how I feel, I can only guess what it must have been like to receive the personal announcement that the Savior had been born.  Not only the personal announcement, but the personal invitation to come visit the newborn king, and the invitation to a personal relationship “for unto YOU is born this day, a Savior, who is Christ the Lord.” (Luke 2:11)  What love! What joy! Not only were they the first to know, but to know even as lowly as they were, his birth was FOR them. 

Even the animals… the Bible doesn’t tell us that any animals were witness to His arrival, but since Mary and Joseph were staying in a stable with some connection to the inn it is very reasonable to believe that there were animals of some kind present on that special night.  From my years of working with livestock I know they can be pretty perceptive, and I can’t help but wonder if even those animals could feel the awe and wonder of what had just transpired- the King of Heaven had just come down to earth.    

And then there is Mary.  Luke 2:19 tells us after the shepherds left to share the news, “But Mary treasured up all these things and pondered them in her heart.”  I will admit, the song “Mary Did You Know?” has always one that I really felt pretty neutral about when it comes to Christmas songs.  I never loved it, but I wouldn’t switch the station when it came on either.  Due to out of the ordinary circumstances on Sunday, (a) was sitting on my lap during church instead of doing his normal nursery routine.  I was doing whatever it took to keep him quiet so he did not disrupt the service, and “whatever it took” involved me eating the stale puffs he was insistent on feeding me as he sat astraddle my lap.  He would shove one in my mouth, grin his huge silly smile as I gave in to his antics, and then quickly stick another one up to my lips.  As he was up to this game it turned time for communion and the piano player began to play “Mary Did You Know?” and as I thought about the words to the song I had to fight back tears.  Here on my lap sat the little boy who is our world, smiling his cheesy smile, and I thought- “I truly have no idea what your life will hold.”  I pray it is full of love, and joy, and hope, laughter, and service to God and others, family, and friends, and faithfulness.  His little mind wants to figure so many things out- it makes his Boilermaker momma hope he might consider engineering at my Alma Mater someday.  His love to play ball makes (A) hope someday he will have the chance to coach him.  His love for livestock and farming makes his Aunt “Kayda” hope he wants to be raised in the barn.  All of us who love this little boy have hopes and dreams for who he will be, how wonderful his life will be, and what he will make of himself.  None of us want to see him hurting, or let down, ridiculed, or taken advantage of, disappointed or betrayed.  Yet, I know, in my heart of hearts, that since we live in this world, I will also watch some of those things happen to my son. 

The Bible does not tell us how much Mary was privy to when it came to “knowing” what was ahead for her tiny infant son.  She knew and understood that he was the Messiah- God made that part clear.  But I can’t help but wonder what all she was pondering in her heart.  Would she have ever dreamed she would watch her son perform miracles, teach the multitudes, or love the “unloveable”? Would she have ever dreamed she would watch her son be betrayed, beaten, and crucified?  As I listening to the song play and held my son tightly, I couldn’t help but think of what went through her heart as a mom, as the Christmas story unfolded through her eyes, and I couldn’t help but wonder what goes through the heart of God the father as he watches how the “Christmas story” unfolds through my eyes.  He knows how much he loved that Son he sent for me, and he sees whether or not I am grateful daily for that gift.  Mary probably didn’t know, but He knew that the Christmas story would turn out to be so much more than just that night in the stable, He knew the entire story, because He was the author of it, and my response to that story is my response to His love for me. 

I have loved experiencing Christmas through the eyes of my child this year, but I also have a greater appreciation of God’s love for me as I experience Christmas through the eyes of a parent who loves her son.  I pray I never take for granted just how much God loves me, in that He gave his son to be my savior.  What excitement!  What joy! What love! His birth was FOR me.  Through those eyes, all I can say is Glory to God in the Highest!

Merry Christmas, from my family to yours! 

Fighting Shepherds, Giggling Girls- The Off-Script Moments

Over the years, one of my most FAVORITE Christmas traditions has always been the children’s Christmas program at church.  And one of my favorite children’s Christmas novels has long been The Best Christmas Pageant Ever, because I can TOTALLY relate to the story of putting together the unforgettable yearly program with all the “off script” moments it can bring. 

As an elementary student I LOVED the hours spent preparing for the yearly event.  I can still sing some of the songs from various years, and I can still tell you who played what parts in which programs.  I also still remember the year Victoria, Jessica, and I got the giggles and couldn’t get our lines out for several minutes when we were the “three tree women” who owned a Christmas tree lot.  As an adult, that is what I love the most about the children’s program- that fact that something ALWAYS goes wrong.  I will admit, the many years I was the director of the program I was TERRIFIED of what was going to go wrong, but the humor in the mistakes is what is always most memorable.  Our last ministry began in early December of 2007 and we still did not know many of the families very well by the time the first children’s Christmas program rolled around our 2^nd or 3^rd week there.  However, a couple of the children quickly became well-known to us when Joseph and the Shepherd got in a fist fight on stage right in the middle of the program (it had something to do with one stole the other’s chair- they were both preschool/kindergarten age and are now respectful high school students haha).  Their moms were horrified, we thought it was hilarious (we weren’t parents yet)!  I remember one year my mom directed the program and had an entire company of heavenly hosts who were more interested in rolling around on the floor and playing than performing their angelic roles.  Then there was the year I was directing and a little angel in the front row stood in the middle of the program and announced she had to go to the bathroom.  This year’s performance was no exception as a young shepherd on the front row showed off some entertaining dance moves of his own original choreography complete with fancy footwork, cheesy show choir faces, and antics with his shepherd’s crook. 

The pig and the cow... that's exactly what I'm talking about!

While I feel the director’s pain of wanting the program to come off perfectly, what I love about the program is the precious imperfection- the humor in the hiccups, the memories in the mistakes.  For me, it is the perfect reminder of what that first Christmas was really about.  The joy of God’s perfect son, coming to imperfect people.  I’m sure his stable birth was probably not exactly how Mary thought his entrance would play out.  The shepherds were not the most likely “birthing center” guests for the King of Kings.  But those things are what makes the story most impactful- God didn’t send his Son in any of the ways the Jews anticipated the Messiah would arrive.  God’s plan seemed a little “off script” by human expectations, but it was the perfect way to show how much He loved us- that the Savior of the World would come to Earth in the most humble of beginnings.

Some days I look at my life and feel like things are a little “off script” from what I had planned… after all, at 17 I hoped to be on Capitol Hill by 25.  At 30, I had accomplished none of the goals I had set for my 30^th , and now, a few years beyond that, I look around and we have thrown the “script” out the window completely and we are just daily living in what God gives us.  But day by day, I am finding that is the beauty in the story… that just like the first Christmas, God’s plan (while it may seem “off script” from ours) is going to play out perfectly.  We may not know exactly what it is going to look like (as children’s Christmas program directors often find out) but we know whatever it is, it is good.  After all, He loves us enough that he sent the ultimate gift- tiny baby Jesus, Savior of the World, King of Kings. 

“For to us a child is born, to us a son is given, and the government will be on his shoulders.  And he will be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.” Isaiah 9:6

Home

Every now and then I hear someone use the phrase “Were you born in a barn!?”  And I have to giggle, because when I hear it I always think, no, but I was raised in one.  From the time I can remember I loved to tag along with my dad to the barn.  I loved to help do chores and as I grew I got myself to the barn to do chores or rinse show heifers early on summer mornings before anyone else was even up.  Some of those barns I was raised in were on my own farm, but I also did a lot of “growing up” in the cattle barn of the Boone Co Fairgrounds and Indiana State Fairgrounds.  The barn at the Orange County Fairgrounds had a corner that was “home” to the three of us girls for nearly 20 years.  And while the stay was short, a lot of “raising” happened in barns in Denver, CO, Milwaukee, WI, Tulsa, OK, Des Moines, IA, Louisville, KY, Kansas City, and many other local fairgrounds along the way.   For this girl, being in the barn felt like home.

Home… there’s just something about the very word that makes you feel all mushy inside.  The thought of going home makes you feel safe, and loved, and at peace.  Over the years I have learned something about the word home… it doesn’t have to be the place where I lay my head at night, HOME is a place that holds a piece of my heart.

Last weekend I spent some time going “home” to two of my favorite places, and it felt so great to release that sigh from deep within… home…  On Saturday, (a) and I had the chance to spend a few hours at the State Fairgrounds for a large cattle show that my family has been involved with for 20 years.  Walking in to that barn the feeling hit me… home.  SO many memories have been made for me in that barn- tears of joy and defeat have been shed there, laughter and sweat have been poured out, my sisters became my friends and my friends became like siblings.  That barn has seen me in some of my greatest moments of victory, and most embarrassing moments of humility, and I have seen it completely empty and quiet, and I have seen it packed to the gills with people and cattle and equipment.  But no matter what, after all these years and numerous events, it feels like home.  Walking in after what had been a hectic week, I felt my shoulders release some stress, my heart did a little pitter-patter, and that comfortable deep breath feeling of HOME filled my body. 

Thursday, Friday, and Saturday evenings (A) and I had the privilege to attend the Christmas fundraising dinners at Hilltop Christian Camp.  Hilltop has been our camp home for the last 10 years.  We have made friends there who will be life-long ministry partners, and we have worked side by side with people who meant the world to us.  Camp is the place where (A) and I have spent countless hours working as a ministry TEAM at our best, and we have learned how to be a better team together when we were NOT our best there.  We have poured our hearts for Jesus into more children/teens there than we will ever remember.  We have watched many of those campers grow into amazing Christian adults, and we have watched some of them disappoint us.  We have laughed there, and cried there, made hilarious memories and heart-warming ones, sweated our lights out in stifling heat, and chattered our teeth in bitter cold.   We have watched God move in powerful ways in the lives of others and in our own.  We have showed up there on moments of nothing but faith (especially the year we came in to set up a week of camp on faith that running water would be restored after a weekend without due to storms- and within hours of arrival that is exactly what happened!), and other times we have felt so prepared we were just giddy with excitement.  If I tried to tell you every good memory we have of camp I would spend days, and if I told you every way we saw God work in our lives there I would take years.  No matter what event we pull in that driveway for- I get that feeling…. my shoulders relax, I take a deep breath, my heart pitter-patters… I’m HOME. 

Going, home to those places has been a little harder for me lately though, because due to the uncertain nature of our family’s future plans, I don’t know how much longer geography will allow me to frequent those “homes” in my life (or even the house my family has made our home).  Pulling away from camp all three nights brought tears to my eyes as I thought, how often will I get to come “home.”  Leaving the fairgrounds (even after a flat tire incident) I wondered, how long will this place be just an hour or two drive away?  I have no answers to those questions, but God reminded me of this- home is not just a physical place, it is the people you share it with, and the way HE moves in your life there. 

God also reminded me “For this world is not our permanent home; we are looking forward to a home yet to come.” Hebrews 13:14 (NLT).  It was a reminder that uncertainty here is temporary, because my true “homing beacon” is set on Heaven.  The way I use my home on Earth to minister to others matters, because it is preparing me for the home yet to come.  And if the day comes as we move forward, that I feel scared or unsure because I don’t feel at home- that is only temporary too- because none of these “homes” here on Earth will last me forever.   While I am here, I will make new homes as I share them with people I love and watch Him move in our lives- and I will store up my treasures for a permanent home He is preparing for me someday.  Wow- what a feeling that will be! Shoulders relax, deep breath of Heaven sigh, pitter patter in my heart… HOME.