Why I Broke Those Little Hearts

This week we had a mini crisis in our family.  I sat my 3 tiny humans down on the couch, held each of their faces that were warmly lit by the fireplace and told them that Santa Claus wasn't REAL.   I know, I know.  What's the harm in them believing in a fairy tale?  I mean a lot of our favorite Christmas movies involve Santa, they are so excited to see him at the mall, and there's nothing better than making him chocolate chip cookies and leaving carrots for the reindeer before they toddle off to bed on Christmas Eve.  

We don't make a huge deal about Santa at our house...I mean I didn't think we did.  The kids each get one present from him and the rest are from mom and dad, grandparents, and friends.  We don't make up elaborate stories of hearing Santa on the roof, the North Pole, or naughty and nice lists.  But the last few years the oldest of my crew had been asking more details about him and how he delivers all the presents and all of the usual curious questions.  And it began to bother me.  I mostly tried to side step her questions and re-direct back to the true meaning of Christmas and the story of Jesus' birth.  But, when I did try filling in the blanks about Santa I was lying.  LYING.  Which is the worst offense in our house. Our children are allowed to make plenty of mistakes...and they do...but what we absolutely will NOT tolerate in our home is LYING.  

We preach honesty and try our best to live it.  

She would inevitably ask me questions about Heaven in the same conversations about Santa Claus.  So telling the truth about one thing while lying (however innocent I tried to justify it) about the other.  One night she asked me if I was lying about Heaven.  There it was.  I desire more than anything as a parent to be trusted by my children.  For them to believe the truth I live out before them and believe what I teach them.  

Then this week I read Jen Hatmaker's blog post.  If you don't read her, you are missing out.  She wrote in her post about giving all of Christmas back to Jesus, not just a corner of it.  Fireworks went off in my heart.  The deal was sealed.  I was about to break some hearts.  But I want my kids rooted and grounded in TRUTH.  It may sound extreme.  It felt extreme at the time...like I was robbing them of Christmas magic and childhood wonder.

That is how lost I have gotten.  Robbing them?? Seriously?? Did I really think that??

I REPENT LORD! 

The true magic of Christmas is the wonder of a Creator who poured Himself out into a tiny baby, to live as a human, to suffer greatly while on this earth so He could redeem mankind out of His great LOVE for us!  

And I have taken the gift of a Savior and put it in a tiny box, and while asking my kids to make their Christmas lists and taking them to see Santa, have (out of fear they aren't remembering the real meaning of Christmas) said,
"now guys, why do we really celebrate Christmas?"  Relieved when they answer "Jesus' birthday" and that has been enough to settle my parental heart.  

Then I remember 

"I am the LORD; that is my name! I will not give my glory to

 anyone else, nor share my praise with carved idols." 

And I felt His passion and zealousness for me burn white hot.  

So we will not be sharing Christmas with Santa Claus anymore.  We won't be condemning anyone who celebrates with Santa.  When we see him, we will wave and say hello.  We will be putting our entire focus on JESUS. 

Sounds extreme??  I know, I know.  But HIS LOVE  is extreme.  And it deserves an EXTREME response.  The world is pretty EXTREME on removing anything and everything having to do with Jesus.  So we are being EXTREME too.

Happy Christmas Season!

L.

9 Years

9 years of less sleep, never finishing a meal in one sitting, cuddles, comforting after bad dreams, reading  Goodnight Moon over a 1000 times, middle of the night rocking, and shedding LOTS of tears of joy, exhaustion, and love.

My baby girl turned 9.  NINE!  I have no idea how it happened but it did.  And I tried to slow time down but it didn't work.  I soaked in so many moments and I missed many moments that I cannot get back.  We celebrated her with a party, photo booth, and lots of friends.  This girl is the apple of my eye.  There was a time I thought I would never experience the joy of motherhood but I am so grateful for miracles that come in red, curly-headed packages.

Failure, Weakness, and Closer to Jesus

Recently I read a blog post that really struck a heart string.  I will post the link to it at the end of this post.  It is definitely worth checking out.  I suppose it sent an arrow and set my heart ablaze because it gave lyrics to what has been the song of my heart as of late.

I mentioned today at lunch with some friends that the older I get, the less I know or understand.  I had way more answers to questions when I was in my early 20's.  Not that they were the right answers but I sure thought so.  Not only do I feel less capable to give advice or answer someone's question but I also have become much more aware of my weakness.  There are days where I am so aware of my humanness it could be paralyzing if not for constant prayer to connect to the SOURCE of LIFE.  I used to feel much more invincible than I do now.  Maybe I have become wiser.  And wisdom looks like an awareness of my smallness in the shadow of His bigness.

And then there's failure.
Oh, I hate that word.  And then I don't hate it.  In truth, failure represents gain to me.  And failure really isn't failure after all.  I guess it all depends on your perspective and how you use it.  I had someone who is wise tell me very recently that I did not fail.  It sure seemed the opposite to me.  But I took what she said and I searched my heart.  I always tell my kids (annoying as it is to hear myself say to them) "do your best and forget the rest"!

Then those annoying words rang in my ears and my heart. So I did what any self-respecting adult would do...I did my best then I worried and worried about the rest.  What?!?!?! You mean to say you DIDN'T forget it?

NOOOOOOO!  I pretended to but I didn't.  It didn't take long though.  I'm pushing 40 and no longer have the energy to worry more than 24 hours.  I had to take responsibility, do what I could do, then lay it down despite the outcome.  And then I had to do the hardest part of all, forgive myself for my shortcomings.
I have no power over an outcome, over another being's response.  I only have power over my choices, my choices to forgive, to love, to sow peace.  Even now as I type that I am challenged to really believe it.  I still think somewhere inside myself I can do it all.  I can make everything all right for everybody else.

But I know I cannot.

So, I can worry and make my life miserable or I can let go.
And when I say "let go", I don't mean stop caring, or pretend like circumstances don't exist.  "Letting go" for me means I am going to devote some serious time to praying.  To being still.  To listening.  To resting.

And that is exactly what I have done.  It hasn't been easy.  It's been a fight.  An uphill battle.  But I am at peace.  I'm resting in WHO HE is.  There is no better place to be than that.

XO,
L.

This following post is so so good.  Check it out when you have a few minutes!
http://danacandler.com/3696/why-growing-in-god-looks-weaker-than-we-thought/

Birthdays, Bobcats, and Dirty Grandpa

Recently I took a little weekend trip with the everlasting friend to celebrate our birthdays.  I call her that because I've known her for 32 years but we have been close for the last 18.  She's closer than a sister to me, we love like sisters and fight like them too.  We can and have duked it out but we have always made it to the other side.  This is deep friendship to me.  You cannot escape conflict in relationships, but you can grow depth in them through the trying times.  She knows me.  And I know her.  We laughed til we cried and we cried til the giggles came.  It was the best time.

And there we were laughing and crying in my hubs little sporty car (we wanted to drive something not resembling our mom-mobiles) talking 100 miles an hour and driving 80 miles an hour and then it happened.  A big ol' bobcat right in front of my car.  BAM.  I hit him dead on. Pardon the pun.

Yes, I was watching the road.
No, I was not on my phone.
No, I was not messing with the radio.

That poor doomed bobcat leaped right in front of my car and there was nothing to do.  Swerving at 80 miles an hour would have hurt more than that bobcat.  Needless to say we did pull over, totally shaken, and that poor animal left this world but before he did, he took vengeance out on our car.  Light dangling, grill smashed in, bumper a few inches from the highway floor...$2000 damage to the hubs car.  He's up in bobcat heaven laughing his tail off I am sure.  A few miles and towns later, we found some kind body shop guys who, while laughing at us, did duct tape the car so we could be on our merry way.  It was only a few hours into our weekend but the adventure was well underway.
My very witty friend, who was trying to shift gears back to the fun direction, came up with "bobcat splat".  Us 1 Bobcat 0.

Nothing is going to stop us from our weekend of the "no-kid zone", touring the wineries, and eating to our heart's content.  Even if we have to drag our bumper 300 miles down the highway.

Somehow, I thought that experience would be the most adventurous thing that happened that weekend. I mean, it's all downhill from here, right?  WRONG.

Later that evening, after we had a little dinner and strolling through some shops, we decided to pop into the brewery to check it out.  We sat down and immediately, like girls do, she left to go to the bathroom.
SHE LEFT ME.  No big deal. It's a restaurant.  I can sit at a table by myself for 5 minutes.  But I never will again.

And there he was.  Asking if he could buy me a drink.  Me, a 37 year old mother of 3, happily married mind you, with my wedding ring flashing in his face.  I turned around to politely say "no thank you".  But when I looked up, there was a 78 year old man standing there.  YEP.  Could have been my grandpa.

Oh, I thought I was getting hit on!
It's a grandpa!
He's just being nice!

Confession time:  I didn't know what to say.  For some reason, if it had been someone my own age, I could have easily said "thanks but no thanks" but grandpa threw me off.  I didn't want to hurt his feelings.  So, I did what any good friend would do.  I pawned it off on her.  She has no problem being direct.  Except for this night.  So, for a lengthy amount of time he sat with us.  Telling us the story of how he came to be a cattle man owning ranches from Texas to Colorado, his 3 wives (while trying to get me to be his 4th, turns out old gramps was hitting on me), his children and grandchildren, his oil wells, and telling us Bible stories.  It was an odd conversation.
This man is used to people being interested in him because of what he can offer them.
But we just listened to him.  Just sat there while he told his story.  No agenda.  Hoping he felt value for himself beyond what he can give.

We finally parted ways.

I hope that night was one less lonely one in his world.  I hope he felt seen and heard.  I wish I could tell him that he is more than his success or his money because I am sure that is all people see when they look at him.  I wish I could tell him that he matters, that he is loved beyond measure by Someone because of who he is, not what he has.

In the end, I do for sure know one thing.  I am going to the bathroom with my friend next time.  We made a pact to not be left alone the rest of the weekend.  There's a whole other story for Saturday night.  I am too old for this.

L.