George Bailey

 "Love is how you treat someone. Not how you feel about them."

Every year I begin Advent with lofty goals. I'm going to do all the readings. There will be church attending, candle lighting. People will know the true meaning of Christmas.

There will be family fun. We will see some lights. Play some games. Attend the things.

Every. Single. Year.

And every single year my advent looks almost exactly like this picture.

This year we are 4 for 5 with COVID the week of Christmas. Someone in my home has been very sick for the last six weeks. Every. Single. Day. We've had the flu, some weird respiratory virus that wasn't positive for anything, then COVID.

We are missing the things. The candles haven't been lit because people are too tired or coughing too much.

Instead of making merry magic, I'm busy cleaning up vomit, lysoling all the things, and trying to figure out how much Walmart and Amazon can bring me.

The other night we curled up on the couch and watched It's a Wonderful Life.

Oh my do George Bailey and I seem to have a lot in common this week.

I had grand plans and things are looking very..........average.

I wanted more.............and instead I have less.

It's no mystery that my favorite Christmas movies all seem to have the same theme. They give you a glimpse into another path so you can appreciate the one you are on.

This week of Christmas we were gifted the opportunity to really love one another.

Not with things wrapped with bows under the tree, but in gifts of services.

We made each other soup. We went on prescription drug runs for others. We found the missing thermometer. The not fallen ran errands for the fallen. In the days before Peanut fell ill, people took turns spending time with her.

I'm reminded that Mary's first Christmas probably wasn't as she envisioned.

Maybe she, too, had a bit of a George Bailey complex. She wanted something else. Something that seemed bigger. Better. Something that looked better on Instagram.

But, she was called to the average.

To birth the Savior. To raise him.

Her days probably looked pretty ordinary. She nursed a baby, chased a toddler, argued with a teenager.

We can all agree that her work mattered.

It was anything but average.

Mama Warriors, as we walk into these last few days of Christmas preparation, let me remind you that it's not the gifts that land under the tree that they will remember.

They will remember the feel of your home.

Ditch the stressful running around in favor of eating frozen pizza around your table.

Choose to be present over the scramble of presents.

Embrace the average because if it's good enough for Mary and George Bailey, I'm pretty sure it's good enough for me and you.

enough

"Far from being a punishment,, judgement, or a curse, the wilderness is a gift. It's where we can experience the primal delight of being fully known and delighted in by God." 

Each year I've been downsizing our Christmas decorations. Picking and choosing what brings me joy, what holds sentimental value, and what simply feels like clutter. Refusing to shop for new things, no after Christmas sales for me. 

When we gathered to decorate the tree, it seems we are down to one strand of red lights, one strand of white lights, and one strand of multi color lights. 

I use the word strand loosely because the lights only go on the front of the tree - the strands weren't long enough to go all the way around. 

This is very much a Christmas of "this is what we have." 

I sit each morning with a cup of hot tea and look at this tree. 

My thought is "me too."

I'm feeling mismatched, unfinished and all over the place this month. 

I'm plugging in my Jesus lights. I'm doing my breath prayer (light of the world, be born in me). 

After the tea is drank, the book of Luke is read, the yawns begin, the wee one wakes and comes barreling into the living room. 

"Oh Mommy the tree is awake! It's so pretty!" 

I pull her warm little footie pajama body close to me and perspective washes over me. 

What we have, where we are at......it's enough. 

Jesus looks at us and thinks "Oh - she's so pretty!"

What we have, where we are at......it's enough. Our half working parts. Our tired and weary limbs. Our thirsty soul. 

You are fearfully and wonderfully made. Loved not because or your mismatched strands but FOR your mismatched strands. 

Mama Warriors, as I sit this morning I had this twinge of guilt over all the "Christmas fun" we have not had. I watch as families traipse here and there building up "family memories."

As I worry if I should fill our already full month with something else, I hear the laughter of the wee one rise above the sounds of the house. I hear Sweet Daddy's deep belly laugh over the Muppet's Christmas carol movie. I see the crayons and coloring books, the deck of Snoopy Christmas Uno cards, the Jesus storybook bible. I smell the Pioneer Woman's baked french toast cooling on the stove. I taste joy that is a morning that affords a second cup of hot tea. 

And I'm reminded, my mismatched lights, my tired limbs, my thirsty soul is enough. 

It's enough for you too.

Norman Rockwell Tree

"Our assignment is not fruitfulness but faithfulness.....Our goal is not to bear fruit. Our goal is to stay attached."

Cutting down the Christmas Tree is one of my favorite traditions. In typical Tkill fashion, it often looks WAY more Norman Rockwell in my head and very The Middle in person. I considered walking home solo from the tree farm this year - it went that well. 

If you've never cut down your own tree, when you bring it home you have to make a fresh cut. Then immediately get it into a stand and water it. Or the sap seals the trunk and the tree won't drink. 

A healthy tree, just like a newborn, starts out very thirsty. As the tree settles into the house it begins to drink less water but still requires daily watering. 

So it seems for Christmas my favorite tradition is getting a fourth child. 

I start my day watering the tree. I turn the lights on. I sip my caffeine by little multi colored lights. I water the tree at lunch time. Together, we watch a Hallmark movie.  I water the tree again before I go to bed. I turn the tree lights off, tell the tree goodnight. 

Much like most of motherhood, it's a thankless job. I do all the work of the tree. 

My people occasionally look at the tree. 

Peanut moves the ornaments around the tree. 

Gifts will magically appear under the tree in a few weeks. 

It's a typical glitter and glue conundrum for sure. 

The behind the scenes magic that it takes to make Christmas happen. 

I feel like a lot of times the thing I'm frustrated with is that I can't see fruit from my efforts. 

I was reminded this morning as I poured water into my thirsty tree........ 

I am not called to see fruit. 

I am called to remain attached to the vine. 

I am not called to be thanked for planting seeds. 

I am called to remain faithful. 

Often I think in motherhood we get busy trying to bear fruit and forget to stay attached. 

Mama Warriors, in this busy season I challenge you to CHOOSE to stay attached. 

Sip the caffeine and read the advent devotions. 

Make the list of prayers. 

Tune into the tugs. 

Trust that watering is enough. 

That fruit will come.

Take the Picture

 "The deepest parts of who we are rise up. They can't help it."

Peanut and I had a couple of hours to kill yesterday in between taxi duties. We went to check out one of our favorite spots. The botanical gardens is special to a friend of mine and I wanted to make a wish and say a prayer for her in her spot.

It was Christmas card picture day at the gardens. Every time we rounded a corner we found a photographer, a family in matching outfits, and a crying small child.

None of these people looked like Christmas joy. There were frustrated Dads fussing at kids to be still and quit running around. Moms aggravated because wiggly babies wanted no bow and to get down on the ground. Grandpas who had ditched their matching flannel shirt and Grandma complaining.

As Peanut climbed around in the dirt, picked up wet flowers, ran through the overgrown maze, I sat on a log and thought about the image we try so hard to create.

We are all trying to send out the perfect Christmas card in our own ways.

Maybe it's the social media image you portray. Or the version of your reality you share at work. Or even how your family looks as they walk into church on a Sunday morning.

While behind the scenes we had to stage that perfect picture so no one sees the sink full of dishes. Or we slap on fake smiles and threaten children as we get out of a hostile car to go in and worship Jesus.

Sometimes I think we put a lot more effort into the Christmas card version of our life than the real one.

As we wake on this first day of Advent, I'm challenging myself to put my efforts in the behind the scenes moments and not the Christmas card ones.

I wanted to tell those families yesterday - take THESE pictures.

Take the picture of the wiggly baby who just wants down with the adorable pouty face and the bow in her hand instead of on her head.

Take the picture of Grandpa and Grandma arguing over the flannel shirt in Grandpa's hand. The way only couples who've been married forever do.

Take the picture of the pure joy of kids in too nice clothes in a garden where it just rained all night play.

Take the picture of the reality because there is beauty there.

Mama Warriors, when we focus on the Christmas card version we completely miss out on the beauty in the mess.

As you read the Christmas story over the next four weeks, I challenge you to look for the mess. It's there.

Take the picture of the messy moments this next month and let those be ENOUGH.

The spilled cocoa, the arguing over who owns what in Christmas monopoly, the gingerbread houses that won't stand up, the who has to sit where in the car on the way to grandmas, the mismatched kids who dress themselves, the teen in shorts even though it's 40 degrees.

All of that.

That's what you are really going to miss because that's what life was really like.

The moments.

The mess.

Take the picture.

2020

Obligations versus Opportunities

 "Loving people means showing them what they can not see on their own." James Baldwin

The list of things not included in my parenting handbook is FAR longer than the list of things that were shared with me by doctors, relatives, friends, or strangers at the park.

Amongst the list is how to navigate the holidays with young adult children.

I've known for a long time our traditions don't work for us as a family. We are stretched between obligatory commitments, a difference in what a holiday should look like, and even the limits of how many of us fit into our largest vehicle (hint, not all of us).

For the second year we celebrated Charlie Brown's Thanksgiving on Wednesday night. A night of snack foods, popcorn, games and a viewing of the movie (well this year we didn't make it to the movie).

An evening that is flexible. All are welcome.

We ate, we laughed, we competed in Taboo.

In reframing this holiday for myself, I recognized that what makes "Thanksgiving" for someone else does not have to make Thanksgiving for me and mine.

I was also reminded that the Beatles are right.

"All you need is love, love. Love is all you need."

The tricky thing is that love looks differently in each season of parenting.

Sometimes love is firm boundaries, consequences, and tough choices.

Other times love is flexibility, openness and grace.

My number one job as their parent is to love them well.

Mama Warriors, as we pull out the Christmas decorations and begin to fill in the December calendar, I challenge you to think about what love looks like in THIS season?

What would loving your kids right now look like?

Maybe it's ditching that formal meal that stresses them out in favor of a more low key grazing buffet option with a few of their favorites.

Maybe it's saying no to the thing that happens at nap time because sleep makes for healthy and happy children and adults.

Maybe its rethinking your traditions in light of the ages and stages in your home.

Do you want to be remembered for the obligations or for the opportunities for joy?

Realignment

"What you invest in is what you worship."

I have mentioned to a friend multiple times lately about how I don't feel grounded. I feel scattered. My mind feels full, and my heart feels off. 

I woke this morning in a house that looks like Christmas threw up. 

While some of you have beautifully Pinterest worthy decorated trees, mantles, homes that I've gotten glimpses of in pictures, I have Christmas kid clutter. I've tripped over the Fisher Price Nativity. The elf was hard to find amongst a mess of toys of this morning. There's  a large sack for playing Santa filled with goodness knows what sprawled across the floor. You get the picture? 

My mantle has a mismatch of Home Depot kids builds items from years past. Oh - and those foot prints turned into prints in the preschool years. Oh - and the must keep Nutcracker from the year she had to have a souvenir from the ballet. 

My home is currently a good visual of how I felt this morning. One injured husband. One sick kid. One moody teenager. One wee one who couldn't find her lovie at 2:30 Am. 

Mess. 

I will confess - I wanted to stay home this morning, put a movie on, make a 3rd cup of hot tea and just be. 

But instead I dragged myself to church. 

The very first sentence out of the preacher's mouth was something like "We come here to worship each week and to re-align our hearts with God."

Yes - I needed an alignment this morning. 

I want to love the holiday season. 

I'm definitely excited about celebrating the birth of Christ with advent readings around my dining room table, baking a happy birthday Jesus cake in my kitchen, and watching the enthusiasm with which the Peanut approaches her nativity as she learns to tell this story. 

I sat in church this morning praying He'd ground my feet in Him. 

Praying He'd hold my thoughts captive. 

Praying He'd show me how to walk this season with my INVESTMENT being in Him. 

Not the chaos of commitments, not the commercialism of extravagant gifting, not the center of it all getting lost in there. 

Mama Warriors, perhaps you, like me, feel a lot more like The Grinch than Elf as we enter this holiday season. Mamas tend to be the magic makers. The elf movers. The Santa shoppers. The what are we bringing to what and when people. The checking off the gifts for every relative. The Christmas card signers. The grocery shoppers because somewhere in this madness the circus monkeys still want to eat 3 plus times a day. 

This morning He reminded me that what I INVEST in is what I WORSHIP. 

So this holiday season, if I want my kids to feel the love of Jesus. If I want them to see what we are really celebrating. If I want this season to be one of joy for ALL of us (not just them). 

Then I have to INVEST in Him. 

I have to look at each of our calendar commitments, each gift we think of buying, each tradition we carry on and ask "Am I INVESTING in what I want to WORSHIP?" 

Worship is about who we put first in our lives. 

Worship is about aligning our hearts with Him. 

This season seems worthy of a re-alignment ?

inhale

"Every time you pretend to be less than you are, you steal permission from other women to exist fully."

Peanut has been a little under the weather the last few days. I've been sleeping on her floor. 

So "sleeping" may be an overstatement. Turns out middle aged me isn't cut out for sleepovers on my floors. 

Yesterday I asked Sweet Daddy to sit with her while I went for a walk. 

Motherhood is a lot of EXHALING. 

Sacrificing, giving, serving. 

I've learned in order to do that well, I must make time to INHALE. 

Time to do the things that feed my soul. Time to read. Time to walk. Time to pray. Time to shower. 

We seem to define ourselves by our exhales but really I think "good mothers" find that balance between the inhale and the exhale. 

The women I admire most these days are the ones who seem to navigate that balance well. The women who make time for themselves, for their marriage, for their friendships AND for their kids. 

I woke up one day this summer and our oldest was 18. 

I've been stuck in this sentimental reflection of the last eighteen years (though I'm under no illusion that I'm done parenting her). 

Turns out there is no prize for being the "one who suffered the most" or the "one who sacrificed the most." 

At some point in parenting I think we all weigh how it all turned out. 

When we weigh the cost of the exhale without the inhale, what will we find?

Mama Warriors as we continue through what I lovingly call the season of chaos, I encourage you to find your INHALE. 

I listened to a podcast this week where the author encouraged us to remember that our children won't remember the specifics of holidays year to year but what they will remember is how our homes felt. 

I challenge you to balance that INHALE with your exhale this season. 

Your kids won't remember the specifics of the places you went or the gifts they open. They will remember the general way the holidays felt in your home. 

Inhale.

Thanksgiving Plates

"Jesus didn't run projects, establish ministries, or put on events. He ate meals." (Tim Chester, A Meal With Jesus)

This past weekend we kicked off the holiday season with the first (of many) family gatherings.

There's nothing like parenting with an audience. Am I right?

For many of us, our toughest audience is our own family. 

For some reason, at many gatherings, I feel like my parental worth is based on how my kids eat. 

It seems that if your kids eat "well" then you are a good parent. If they don't, then you should have done parenting differently. 

If you've dined with me, you know that I am an extremely picky eater. And that was pre-gastro madness. I'm now a severely limited eater and I rarely eat in public.  I have raised 2 out of 3 picky eaters. 

If you know me, you know that I have a HUGE soapbox about eating to nourish your body. I've tried to teach my own children that they know their body. They know when they are hungry. They should eat. They know when they are not. They don't have to. It's great to try new things, but it's okay if you don't want to. I never force my kids to eat. 

It doesn't bother me that my kids are picky. Each of them eats healthy things - you just may not offer them to them. Each of them eats some rainbow colors - you may just not offer the one they like. Each of them, over the course of a week, eats "well." You just may not be present at the meal where that happens. 

I share this with you, not in judgement of those who dine with me because they surely love me and my kids, but to share with you about what it really means when we gather around a table. 

And because our speech at these gatherings is so often food focused, I just ask that you pause for a moment and hear your words through the lense of love. 

We've been walking a sermon series at church about Jesus's table. About the lessons He taught us when he ate with others.

And I'm going to tell you - it's not about the food. It's not about who does or doesn't eat what. What was served or not served. Who brought what, or didn't. Or how it tasted.  

It's about the conversation around the table. 

It's about the CONNECTIONS. 

It's about INVESTING in one another. 

It's about being fully PRESENT to one another. 

So as you gather at tables this week with others, I challenge you to think beyond the food. 

You may dine with people with food association issues. You may dine with people with eating disorders. You may dine with people struggling with making healthier choices. You may dine with people struggling with a gastro disorder. You may dine with people who love to eat, and those who don't. You may dine with people making self deprecating comments because they are unhappy with their weight, or feel judged by what they put on their plate. 

I'm going to guess you'll dine with at least one of those and you won't know it. 

Enjoy your meal. Food is meant to nourish our body. 

But the time around the table with those we love, is meant to nourish our SOUL. 

Let's love one another well. 

Let's speak from love and not judgement. 

Let's think about how the comments about how fat we feel or how our jeans won't fit are filtered through others lenses. Let's think about how our kids hear those comments and what it tells them about the connection between eating and their self esteem. Let's think about how what we say influences the body image of someone else. 

"By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another." John 13:35 

Mama Warriors, maybe your kids will eat well this week but will not sit in their chair. Maybe your kids will struggle with communicating with relatives they don't see that often. Maybe they won't want to share their favorite toy when you host a meal. Maybe they will roll their eyes when you remind them to put their phone away. 

Remember this glimpse into your child does not define you or them. 

This glimpse your relatives get this week, is just that - a glimpse. A blip. 

You are defined by Him. And He sees you pouring into them every day. Nourishing their bodies, minds, and souls. 

You are worthy. 

No matter what happens Thursday :)

Thankful for the Dog

 "I must stay whole by keeping what I know, what I feel, and what I do in alignment with God's truth about who I am."

Peanut and I have been participating in a 21 days of Gratitude Challenge.

For the first few days Peanut was very excited. She would do her devotion video (a playlist of videos about gratitude) and then work on her "Gifts List."

The first day she eagerly listed a long time - Mommy, Daddy, listed the relatives by name, the dog, the house, the weather, the friends. The list went on and on.

On day two she asked me "What do I write now?"

I challenged her to think about the day before. What did we have to be thankful for that happened yesterday?

She thought through her day and was able to make another lengthy list.

By day 4, she informed me she'd already written down "everything" she could be thankful for.

Everything I asked?

Why yes she assures me. She's thought of it all. She's been thankful for it all.

Perhaps I told her.

Perhaps you have been thankful for all the things but are you still thankful for them? Is there a limit on how many times you can be thankful?

Are you missing new gifts?

As I've walked her through these 17 of 21 days, I've realized that my own gifts list is pretty superficial.

I'm thankful for the crazy dog who almost always makes me smile and who has taught me what steadfast devotion looks like.

But am I thankful for the hard growing season we're slowly trying to come out of?

Am I thankful for the health challenges that face loved ones?

Am I thankful for change?

It's easy to be thankful for the surface........the stuff that makes most kids' lists.

It's much harder to be thankful for the stretching and challenges. For the loss and the grief. For the worse of the better or worse, for the sickness of the sickness and health, for the poorer of richer and poorer.

Mama Warriors this week many of us will enter a week of togetherness.

While some of you swear that you love all the togetherness, I'm going to confess that often all that togetherness makes me forget what I'm thankful for.

Somewhere amongst the more dishes, more laundry, more strife over shower schedules, let's make space this week to be thankful for the elusive more.

Let's be people who 21 days in can still find something deeper to be thankful for.

Something more than the dog.

Though let's all admit, he's pretty great too

Deleting Pictures

 "Anyone who moves forward, even a little, is like Jesus walking on the water." Antonio Machado

Every few weeks google yells at me that I'm nearing my storage limit. Like a mother upset about a messed up room.

Like the average child, I delete a few things, straighten up a bit let's say and then declare it enough.

Hoping that one half gb I cleared is going to be the elusive enough.

It never lasts long. You see, I keep getting the emails. Downloading the files. Taking the pictures.

It's the pictures. Let's face it.

With some ruthless deleting this week, I've managed to free 2GB of space.

Yep, that's it. 2 GB.

For those of you whose phones don't yell at you regularly - Google allows 15 GB of storage. My THREE email accounts and files associated with that take up 1.1 GB. Remember what the rest of the storage is?

I've been taking a harsh walk down memory lane over the last few days. Opening every picture. Saving, organizing into folders, deleting as a I go.

Occasionally you hit a day where I obviously took WAY too many pictures. The snow dusting - somehow I took 30 pictures in one hour outside.

Those are the easy deletes right? Pick one of each kid or the dog and delete the rest.

It's the mundane day to day pictures that I can't let go of.

The Xman asleep on my couch.

The Princess on a blanket in the front yard reading a book.

Peanut dressed up on some random Tuesday.

Moments that were a regular part of my life. That no longer are.

Nothing special moments.

But were they?

I've missed a lot of "big" moments over the years. I've missed girl scout trips where the Princess forged new friendships. I've missed baseball games where the Xman pitched an astounding game. I've missed moments where SD could have used someone to stand in the back and just be there.

I've missed some BIG stuff.

Sometimes because my health necessitated it. Sometimes because balancing the needs of three kids in different seasons necessitated it.

But the mundane?

The small?

That's where I shine.

I stash cards in your bag when you travel. I show up with words when they are needed.

I make you dinner when you aren't well and college is wearing you out.

I play board games while dinner cooks and play your favorite songs.

Because I believe that we make a life in the small.

And that society over rates the big.

I believe the small IS the big.

So I keep a lot of these every day pictures.

To remind me that making the memories in the big isn't what makes a life.

A life is made in the memories of the consistent, constant small.

Mama Warriors, as we all prepare to enter what I call the "Season of Chaos" try to remember that the small is the big.

The holiday picture books read on the couch with the hot cocoa in the special mug. That's the big.

The Christmas movie watched in pjs with popcorn under fuzzy blankets. That's the big.

The picture taken at some big expensive outing/event may look nice when shared - but at what expense?

For what you don't see in any of my google photos is the woman behind the camera.

Smiling while capturing the everyday blessing it is to be their mom.