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.