Sacred Mundane: The Blog

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.

Wow.  Tonight Jeff and I crept into Dutch’s room and watched him sleep.  As we tiptoed out of the room, we gently closed the door and Jeff pulled me into his arms.  “We did it, Sauce.  We did it.”  I smiled up at him.  Yes, we did it.  We made it through one year of parenthood, and a first birthday party. 🙂  And it all was more wonderfully amazingly deliciously fabulous than we could ever have imagined.

Dutch was so wonderful today.  We sang him happy birthday this morning as we got him up from his crib, then I made Dutch Babies for breakfast, a sort of baked pancake that puffs up in the oven, that you eat with powdered sugar on top.  He played contentedly, had a bath, went with us for a walk, and watched me give Daddy a hair cut.  He was too wired for an afternoon nap, so I was afraid that he might melt down when we had 18 guests for his birthday party.  But, once again I underestimated the Dutcher.  He was wonderful.  But most of all I was wowed and amazed at the friends and family who made this day so special.  Oma and Papa worked, getting things ready for the party.  Papa vacuumed and Oma went into town for special balloons for Dutch’s big day.  Daddy put out the Happy Birthday sign and helped me get the food ready.  Grandpa and Grandma Patterson and Great-Grandma Ricketts came from California just for the party!  Papa and Nana Richter made the trek over from Bend for the day just for the party.  Uncle John, Aunt Brenda, and cousin Brooke came from Phoenix, and Aaron and Candi and baby Hannah came from Boston!  Jeremy, Melea, Megan, and Vicki made special appearances for his special day, and Great-Grandma Ruthe came down from Lake Oswego.  They absolutely showered Dutch with gifts–new clothes (that will fit him!), an amazing classic Radio Flyer beginner bike, his first big tub of baby Leggos, a complete Nerf sports ball set, books that sing, a savings bond (!), a gold Kruggerong (!), a sizable check (!), bath toys, meal-time toys … the list goes on and on!  He is one blessed little boy!

What I’m left with is this:  Raising our son is definitely not a solo act.  Of course it’s God who gives us the strength, wisdom, preserverence, and patience every day. But it is our friends and precious family who stand with us, love our son, bless him and invest in him and take joy in him and care for him, it is these amazing people who live life with us who truly make Dutch the amazing boy that he is.  I want to do whatever I can to invest in these amazing relationships, so that Dutch can learn from them and so that his life can be colored and shaped by theirs.

THank you to all of you who blessed Dutch today with your presence, phone calls, cards, and gifts.  Wow.  Jeff and I collapse into bed tonight sweetly exhausted.  What an amazing day.  I am truly blessed.

We did it.  We made it through the first year.  Because of you all.  We made it because of you.