Sacred Mundane: The Blog

Wow. Sometimes you hear one of those messages at church that just kicks your teeth in (in the best sort of way!). Today was one of those days. It was the final message in Pastor Dale’s series on Restoring Christmas, and this one was entitled, Love More. Wow. Love cannot be talked about enough I think, and he presented three ways that we can promote the growth of love in our lives. First, our love grows when we forgive. This part was encouraging because God has done some awesome work in my heart in this area. But what stuck out to me was that even when we forgive we can still experience a lot of pain from the circumstance. I’ve really only had one situation in my life where I struggled with a major hurt and extending forgiveness. And even now, I can honestly say that I’ve forgiven–completely and totally forgiven, but sometimes my mind will wander, when I’m in the shower or cooking dinner or going for a walk, and if I don’t harness my thoughts, they will naturally go into the whole situation again and I could let myself feel all those emotions and relive the whole thing. There is absolutely nothing beneficial about this–so I choose, each and every time, to refuse to think about it, to refuse to let my mind go there. What’s done is done and the punishment has been poured out on my precious Savior on the cross. There is no need for me to relive past painful things. CHrist died to set us free. My final thought on this topic was that the true litmus test for evaluating whether I am truly freed from the hurt is determining whether I can truly and honestly rejoice in that person’s blessing, joy, and prosperity. If I honestly can, praise God–that is authentic evidence that my heart is free. If I cannot, then that is evidence that there’s still work to be done. I pray that I, and that we all, let God do that work in our hearts so we can honestly rejoice in the good of those who have injured us.

Secondly, our love grows when we accept others. This point had two nuggets that really stuck out to me. First, he talked about the fact that love does not need to be right. Yes, we are to stand up for truth, but we are first and foremost to seek to understand each other. Love always seeks FIRST to understand before it seeks to be understood. Pow. That hit me. I always want to be understood–and so as long as that remains my primary motive, I will miss out on loving and understanding and accepting others. We need to accept people instead of being right. This doesn’t mean we are theologically wishy washy (Jesus wasn’t!) but it means we accept others and love them even if we don’t agree. Also, we accept that others are flawed. It’s ok! Colossians 3:13 says “Make allowances for other’s faults.” I am so guilty of expecting Jeff to do everything perfect and anticipate needs and read my mind. I do the same with my parents. I’ll write more on my New Year’s Resolutions later, but one big area I’m asking God to help me grow is in being more gracious toward others making more room for lack, the same way I hope others will do for me!

Lastly, our love grows as we choose to love others. Love, of course, is a choice. So, the banner of my New Year’s Resolutions this year is “Love More.” I will flesh out that into more concrete goals and resolutions, but my prayer is that in 2008 I would be a woman who is characterized by love and grace. God has given us a spirit of love (2 Timothy 1:7) and I pray He would help me grow in it.

We are truly blessed indeed.  At the close of each year, we all become a little more reflective.  I am in awe of the richness that God has given us in our relationships.  As we drove home from Bend, Mom and Dad went their own way and headed to the beach for 3 days to celebrate their 37th wedding anniversary (way to go, Mom and Dad! Thank you for still being married and loving each other so much!).  So, Jeff and I and Dutch blared our favorite worship music (Robbie Seay band) and sang at the top of our lungs as we drove home through the slushy valley snowfall.  When we got home, we decided that Dutch had been SUCH a trooper, stuck in the car for 4+ hours without a complaint, that we skipped unloading the car and decided we’d do nothing but play with Dutch from then until his next nap time.  We pulled on our sweats, turned on the pellet stove and got the house toasty warm while I warmed up some lentil soup for lunch and turned on music.   Dutch was giddy to get to move around and play and he quickly found his birthday balloons and began yanking them up and down, fascinted with how they boinked off his forhead with every jerk.  It was one of those amazingly sweet afternoons where we just savored life.  We savored our precious son who wants to get into everything and empty every drawer and climb into every cupboard.  I even let him crawl around in the kitchen cupboard and play with the waffle iron (of course not plugged in!  He likes anything that has a cord!) 

The next day we had a HUGE treat.  Aaron and Candi, yes THE Aaron and Candi from the Santa Clara story, had flown in from Boston with their newborn daughter, Hannah.  So, we had arranged to spend the whole day together, and we did, savoring every moment, catching up on joys and sorrows and challenges and hilarious stories and dreams for the future.  We cuddled each other’s children, laughed at house playing games now is significantly more challenging with a one-year-old and a nursing newborn.  It was one of those sweet and rare times where we just are in awe of the amazing friendship God has given us. 

Then Friday night we had a RDG Christmas party.  The Red Door Girls are a group of us friends who all lived together at the Red Door house in college.  We now get together every few months for either a baby shower or bridal shower or Christmas party.  This year Jeff and I hosted and it was a BLAST.  THe last of us is engaged (finally, Brita!) and most of us now have kids in tow.  The night included a lot of breastfeeding infants, diaper changes, laughter, and stories.  I am always in awe of how time with those girls is so fabulous.  We always just jump on where we left off.  Our relationships are truly God-ordained.

And today we had a rare and special occasion to be with friends, one of whom has been my best guy friend since I was three years old.  Dawson Hunter (inlcluded in my When God Broke My Heart story) and his girlfriend Anna, and Scott and AJ Schindelar who are long-time friends from college and who worked side-by-side with us at Real Life in Corvallis, all drove out and spent the day here with us.  What a blast!  We also were able to jump on where left off, reminiscing about hilarious old times and discussing future dreams and plans … (maybe wedding bells???).  It was fabulous.

And so now I’m tucked into bed.  Dutch was exhausted and went to bed at 6pm … so I sit here and realize I could not be any richer.  My life is so blessed with amazing relationships.  Many of them don’t get the time and attention that I wish they did, but they are still there and for that I’m so grateful.  Tonight I am also, to be honest, longing for a home of our own.  All this fun and hosting has made me realize all over again that I was born to host, I have hospitality pulsing through my veins, and I’d love to have a home where we can invite people over, bless them, feed them, love them, serve them.  Perhaps it’s selfish, but I think it’s in my DNA.  But as with anything, God knows best.  He will provide that in His timing, and for now I’m thankful that this home, though not my own, has been bursting at the seams with friendly faces and familiar friends.  We are so rich.  I pray that God would help me to learn to invest more and more in the things that matter–these precious people in my life. 

Right now I am sitting in bed, in complete darkness save the glow of my laptop screen.  All I can hear is the clicking of my fingers on the keyboard and the soft breath of my little son, asleep in a portable crib beside our bed.  Jeff is gone — performing his usual Christmas Eve ritual of making something special for me to wake up to Christmas morning.  So, I am here in the silence of this holy night. 

Tonight we went to Christmas Eve service with Jeff’s mom.  The theme for the evening was the silence of this night, on the hushed holiness of the Eve of Christ’s birth, “as if the whole galaxy were holding its breath.”  It is true.  As we drove home tonight it was silent in the car.  Few cars were on the road.  Businesses were closed.  There were no jam packed parking lots or lines extending outside storefronts as there had been just hours before.  It had slowly falled into a silent night.  I remember innumerable Christmas Eves growing up, driving home from my Uncle Tom and Aunt Jan’s house in Hillsboro.  The long car ride was always silent except for soft Christmas music.  We sang along and savored the quietness, the anticipation of the holy day ahead. 

My favorite part of the Christmas Eve service is always the candle-lighting. We all hold these little plastic candle holders with half-burnt white candles that look very tacky in the daylight.  But … at that special moment the sanctuary lights are faded to nothing and the candles begin to be lit, one by one as we turn to our neighbor and within moments the entire sanctuary is aglow with a hundred flickering flames.  I can’t help but get goosebumps every time.  There is nothing magical about all lighting candles, but it does create a stillness, a quiet hush that draws us to recognize the holiness of this special occasion.  Christmas is not ruined for me by commercialism and Santa-ism.  Chrismas is still the most precious, holy, blessed holiday–where we celebrate God’s greatest gift.

Tonight as I crept into the room, I tiptoed over to where Dutch is asleep and watched him, watched the flicker of his eyelids, listened to the sound of his breath.  I tucked the blankets around him and checked to make sure his socks were still on.  It was all I could do to restrain from leaning down to smell his breath–my favorite scent in the world.  Having a son has truly made me appreciate the wonder of Christmas all that much more, and as he sleeps, his precious silent stillness is sacred to me.  His perfectly formed little body, still and at rest.  I stop typing for a moment as he stirs ever so slightly, his legs rustling in the blankets, his mouth making tiny little sucking sounds.  And then it is silent again.  I hear Jeff quietly open the front door as he sneaks in from his creative labors.  The sweetness of this silent night is delicious.   Sleep tight. 

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I’m not a particularly romantic person.  I’m not a fan of flowers or jewelry, so I’ve asked Jeff to skip giving me either one.  The only piece of jewelry I wear (other than my wedding ring) is a solid silver band on my right hand that I never remove.   To me, romance is Jeff taking out the trash without being asked or spending time with Dutch so I can have some free time.  For birthdays and Christmas, my idea of the dream gift is a day spent lounging and reading or spending a fistful of cash shopping alone for house decor or new jeans.  By nature I am practical to a fault.  It’s really kind of a sickness — how I think balancing my checkbook and making grocery lists is fun, somehow.

All of this to say that I’m not a fan of snow.  Almost everyone I know (except my dad who is most likely the giver of my practical gene) loves snow.  Especially in the valley, a few little wispy white flakes and everyone goes bonkers.  To me, it’s kind of the same as rain.  I’m pretty much happy whatever the weather, so it’s all the same to me.  But today we are in Bend, celebrating Christmas with Jeff’s mom and step-dad, his brother and wife and their daughter, and his grandma.  My parents are here as well.  Jeff and I and my parents and Dutch are staying in the guest house, a brand new darling 1,100 s.f. cottage that makes upscale resorts look like shacks.  So this morning, as we lifted Dutch from his portable crib and let him scurry into bed with us, we looked out the window behind our bed.

It had snowed.  Everything was covered with a blanket of brilliant white.  Flurries of beautiful snow continued to fall all morning.  Dutch 2wa`1`w2qq21 (that was Dutch typing–he’s helping me write this).  Dutch was fascinated, my mom was ecstatic, and Jeff was pulling on his sweats  and shoes to go gather a snowball to show Dutch.  Later that morning, Dad and I took a long walk in the snow, the icy wind biting our cheeks, but the warmth of the Central Oregon sun warming our backs as we walked and talked.  Later as I was carrying Dutch from the guest house to the main house, I listened to the snow crunching underfoot as Dutch chatted happily and pointed at the doggies, the trees, the snow.  I realized then that there is something truly magical about snow.  Yes, it makes driving more difficult and it’s messy to clean up.  But here, tucked into our warm cabin on Christmas Eve, a fresh blanket of snow is the icing on our perfect holiday cake.  Now, the sun is bright and the sky is blue, so the fields surrounding the house are glimmering blinding white.  The fire inside is crackling, and I’m thinking about another cup of hot tea and maybe even one more sugar cookie.   Christmas in Bend has already been so wondrously … well, romantic.  I haven’t glanced in my checkbook or even thought about what I’ll be cooking for dinner when we get home.  I’m going to savor every moment of snuggling with Jeff, laughing at Dutch tear through tissue paper, lounging with my feet up, and walking in the icy crunch of snow.  I’m thankful for this Christmas in Bend, and I’m thankful for the snow.