We've just finished reading Joyce Meyer's Enjoying Where You Are On the Way to Where You Are Going for our weekly devotions at school. Here's my take on it. (Yes, I had to write a one-pager of my thoughts for my file, you know, my permanent record.)

         I feel especially blessed that my outlook has always found the glass to be half-full. In fact, for as long as I could remember, I have considered it a choice to be positive. Being negative is just no fun. Why would I choose to have no fun?

         That sounds simple, and, to be true, it is. So I found this book, for the most part, to be a quick read, a nice reminder, but no great revelation. Joyce Meyer may have suffered from regret and dread, legalism, difficulty choosing a meal, and I can appreciate her candidness in revealing those struggles. But I just don’t share her background. Yes, I’m blessed to have grown up surrounded by joy, even when things weren’t happy. (Thanks, Daddy.)

         What I did glean from the book, however, is mainly from the chapter on God’s Waiting Room. Joy is one thing I’ve got. Patience? Not so much.

1^st Corinthians 10:13 (The Message)

No test or temptation that comes your way is beyond the course of what others have had to face. All you need to remember is that God will never let you down; he'll never let you be pushed past your limit; he'll always be there to help you come through it.

         You see, when I make up my mind to do something, I pretty much expect that it’ll happen NOW. It’s no secret that Curt and I long to live back home in Virginia where our families are. But God has seen fit to move us to Ohio, Pennsylvania, and now the Pagan Land of Connecticut. We’ve been gone since Benjy was four months old. He doesn’t know what it’s even like to live in the hug of the mountains, a day trip away from grandparents and porch swings and fried chicken.

         And yet, God has a plan for us that for the time being doesn’t include my plan. Oh, maybe one day, it will. But today I’m in the “waiting season”. And for a while, I hated the wait even as I chose to be filled with joy. Don’t even ask how that’s possible. It just is.

         Recognizing this time as one of waiting and preparation has helped me adjust my expectations. “Many desire to prosper, but not all want to prepare to prosper.” (page 175) I had never looked on this time as a preparation for the place God will take me. But I get it now. 

         If God had told me that I was going to be a teacher in a Christian school back in my early days in the inner city, I’d have scoffed at the idea, and skipped church a bit more. If he’d told me my sister would die at age 37, I’d have quite honestly chosen to live in dread of the year 2008 and I wouldn’t have enjoyed the time I had on earth with her. If He’d seen fit to warn me that I’d not get even a Tylenol when Benjy was born – much less an epidural – then I may very well have no Benjy today.

        

         “Each phase we go through is important. There is something to be learned at every step. It is all part of our preparation. We must ‘graduate,’ so to speak, from each phase or level into the next one, and this comes after we have proven ourselves at our current level. Between all of these stages of preparation, there is a lot of waiting.”

        

         And so I will wait.  I know God’s prepping me and my family for something. I don’t know what, but I can trust that it’s bigger than me. Better than my wildest dreams. And now when my boys ask when we’re moving back to Roanoke, I have an answer at the ready. “When God’s ready to send us back. When God’s ready.” Until then, I will find joy in waiting on the Lord.

Strength will rise as we wait upon the Lord
We will wait upon the Lord, we will wait upon the Lord
Strength will rise as we wait upon the Lord
We will wait upon the Lord, we will wait upon the Lord

~ Everylasting God, Chris Tomlin

Today was sunny enough for sunglasses, but cold. Freezing cold. Colder than death, as my friend M would say. We barely got out of the garage in time to get to West Hartford where it was my week to help teach the elementary kids for Sunday school. We parked, the boys ran to sign themselves in, and I zipped right over to my spot, just in time for communion. RRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRK. That's the sound of brakes stopping my feet. 

Isn't that just what God does to us? We're careening through life when suddenly we come to a dead stop, face to face with our creator. Well, not so much face to face. (One day!) But still. Right there in Conard High's cafeteria, I was on holy ground. Called to remember the king who came to earth wearing nothing but dirty blankets. No crown. No palace. No maids. 

Yes, God calls me to ponder these things. I bowed my head, took the bread. Took the cup. Remembered Jesus the baby. Jesus the king. Jesus the Savior.

Luke 2: ^1-5About that time Caesar Augustus ordered a census to be taken throughout the Empire. This was the first census when Quirinius was governor of Syria. Everyone had to travel to his own ancestral hometown to be accounted for. So Joseph went from the Galilean town of Nazareth up to Bethlehem in Judah, David's town, for the census. As a descendant of David, he had to go there. He went with Mary, his fiancée, who was pregnant. 

 ^6-7While they were there, the time came for her to give birth. She gave birth to a son, her firstborn. She wrapped him in a blanket and laid him in a manger, because there was no room in the hostel.
 ^8-12There were sheepherders camping in the neighborhood. They had set night watches over their sheep. Suddenly, God's angel stood among them and God's glory blazed around them. They were terrified. The angel said, "Don't be afraid. I'm here to announce a great and joyful event that is meant for everybody, worldwide: A Savior has just been born in David's town, a Savior who is Messiah and Master. This is what you're to look for: a baby wrapped in a blanket and lying in a manger."  ^13-14At once the angel was joined by a huge angelic choir singing God's praises:
   Glory to God in the heavenly heights,
   Peace to all men and women on earth who please him.
 ^15-18As the angel choir withdrew into heaven, the sheepherders talked it over. "Let's get over to Bethlehem as fast as we can and see for ourselves what God has revealed to us." They left, running, and found Mary and Joseph, and the baby lying in the manger. Seeing was believing. They told everyone they met what the angels had said about this child. All who heard the sheepherders were impressed.
 ^19-20Mary kept all these things to herself, holding them dear, deep within herself. The sheepherders returned and let loose, glorifying and praising God for everything they had heard and seen. It turned out exactly the way they'd been told!
 


Otherwise, completely and totally at random: 

Ugly Christmas Sweater party at junior high youth group tonight. Of course, we had not a single Christmas sweater in the house - ugly or not. I think Camden nailed it.

 Benjy begging me to send a text to Curt requesting Chick Fil A nuggets. Yes, please.

 My favorite dessert - a ho-ho and skim milk on ice.

 In case you can't read this, it says the temp is 17 degrees.

Currently...

Listening

to the news - the temp is 29 degrees and "boy, it is chilly."

Loving

that my boys are sound asleep and I am almost there myself.

Thinking

that the dryer should be turning off soon, then I get to fold clothes. Yeah.

Wanting

Curt to come home.

Needing

Curt to come home.

And bring some Chick Fil A nuggets.

Or some Krystal apple pies.

Stalking

Facebook. I just don't want to miss a thing.

Things I've learned while Curt's been working in Utah:

1: Keeping a fire burning in the wood stove is something akin to rocket science. I have three burns to prove it.

Dos: Inhaling the smoke from keeping the fire burning in the wood stove is possibly not good for you.

3: It's kinda boring around here after 9:00 p.m.

IV: The chiropractor is an acceptable substitute for Curt rubbing my right shoulder. Dr. Abby cracked and crunched and it felt so right. For the first time in weeks, my head didn't feel too heavy for my neck.

5: The tooth fairy is real. Benjy can prove it.

6: It's more likely than not that Mom will say "yes" to the boys.

7: It's more likely than not that Mom will make grilled cheese sandwiches for dinner.

Ocho: We still have to get up at 6:15 to get to school by 7:15 in the morning. 

9: I don't watch Lost alone.

X: I get a lot more reading done these days.

God bless us, every one.

When I hop in Anderson Cooper (my car) and drive off, I'm usually tuning out something. It could be NPR because I just don't care about what's happening in Egypt at that moment. It could be Benjy because I don't really want to hear about what so-and-so did at school today. It could be Camden because I don't need to be reminded about what it's like to be 11 (read, awkward).

But today I had a special 15-minute drive all by my self. I dropped the boys off at karate and headed to Michael's to get some supplies  for our Christmas presents to our parents. Yes, this was a schooly thing. My favorite Christmas CD was playing, the one by Casting Crowns, and this song came on:

I cranked up the volume. I sang along. The song ended, so I replayed it.

I boosted the volume to 30 and sang louder.

When it was over, I replayed it again.

And pressed volume to 39. Because I could.

I belted it out. I tried to harmonize, but didn't care if it worked or not. I cried. Tears welled up in my eyes for the baby who was wrapped in dirty blankets. 

No room.

Tears for a people who killed the very rescuer who they were looking for.

Tears for a country that "saves the trees and kills the children." 

I don't often get all teary when I drive. I'm often too busy tuning out things and shushing children and looking out for deer or squirrels or Yankees that may dart into my path. So when I have the chance to tune in to just one sound, just one, I can sink deep into it. 

And so it was that in the parking lot at Michael's, I was praising God and turning off the headlights and wipers at the same time. I practically floated into the store, still singing in my head.

Of course, by the time I reached the glitter aisle, I lost the tune. All I could summon was this:

Romans 12 ~ (The Message)

 ^1-2 So here's what I want you to do, God helping you: Take your everyday, ordinary life—your sleeping, eating, going-to-work, and walking-around life—and place it before God as an offering. Embracing what God does for you is the best thing you can do for him. Don't become so well-adjusted to your culture that you fit into it without even thinking. Instead, fix your attention on God. You'll be changed from the inside out. Readily recognize what he wants from you, and quickly respond to it. Unlike the culture around you, always dragging you down to its level of immaturity, God brings the best out of you, develops well-formed maturity in you.

My favorite Christmas movie may be the nostalgic classic A Christmas Story, but when it comes to optimism and courage and strength of character, I'd have to pick It's a Wonderful Life as my fave. I love this scene where Jimmy Stewart, as George Bailey, wonders into a bar and cries out to God for help. As the late Jimmy Stewart told it to Guideposts magazine, he wasn't even acting.  He actually began to sob on the spot, following the script and crying real tears as he raised his eyes and prayed, "God... God... dear Father in heaven, I'm not a praying man, but if you're up there and you can hear me, show me the way. I'm at the end of my rope. Show me the way, God..."

Stewart to Guideposts: As I said those words, I felt the loneliness, the hopelessness of people who had nowhere to turn, and my eyes filled with tears. I broke down sobbing. This was not planned at all, but the power of that prayer, the realization that our Father in heaven is there to help the hopeless, had reduced me to tears.

Wow, I just love knowing that bit of trivia. Even the director, Frank Capra, realized that repeating the scene for a close-up was unlikely since Stewart was being so real here. So he tweaked the film, zooming in and in and in until he had the expression, the emotion, up close and real. 

Isn't God like that? I may move near and far from Him throughout my day, but he can always zoom in on me for a close-up. He knows my emotions, my vulnerability, when I'm over the moon or at the end of my rope. 

When I do pause to pray, whether in complete desperation or in hasty unfocused spurts, He can get closer than I can imagine. He can frame the expression on my face in perfect focus and know what I need before I can even name it. 

And if I am quiet, if I just shut up and listen for a change, I can hear God loud and clear:

I love you, dear daughter.

I love you enough, 

more than enough. 

I have a plan for you, 

and it is amazing. 

Rest in that.

For you are sealed as mine.

In all the excitement of almost blogging every day in December, I plumb forgot about Thanksgiving. 

Then Mom begged of me,  

"Please, oh most beautiful and intelligent daughter o'mine. Won't you graciously post those photographs of our in-the-vicinity-of-Plymouth Rock feast?" 

What do you think we did with all these eggs?

Mom beat the devil out of them! Bah!

Pay attention here.

This is gourmet, Southern style.

Gosh, if I could just reach in and snag one right now I believe I'd live forever.

Rising rolls...

Ready for the oven.

What to do when Mom comes to visit.

Bah! Kidding. 

The Jim Beam was for Pioneer Woman's whiskey glazed carrots. YUM!!!

Mom's beau, Richard, fell asleep watching a riveting Western on antenna TV. That's what we offer when you visit us - just enough channels to remember, all for free.

Why did the turkey cross the road?

To prove he wasn't chicken. Bah!

Why did the cook cross the road?

To prove she could keep her saggy britches up!

Just a little butter and they'll be all brown and done.

Just a little butter and he'll be all brown and done. :)

So blessed.

From the Island of Misfit Toys - a Benjy-in-the-Box

And the Christmas decorating may begin.

Emma let me sleep till 6 this morning. I managed to ignore her periodic howl for an hour before finally giving up and letting her out. Then back to bed for me because it was easier than being awake with a sore throat, achy aches, and threatening cough. Ick.

The boys and I wore our bummy clothes all the livelong day. (Not to be confused with bunny clothes.)

We ate buttered toast for breakfast, Bagel Bites for lunch, and peanut butter toast and apple sauce for dinner. We drank milk, water, and hot chocolate. We munched on Camden's peanut butter cookies and Aunt Tam's Swiss Cake Rolls topped with glistening icing. And we played Star Wars, watched Star Trek and Rudolph, and took turns playing on the computer. The only thing we had to do was keep the fire burning and vacuum dog hair. I'd call this a good day, aches and all. Now the boys lay asnooze in their beds while I sip hot Passion Peach tea with honey. Ahhhhhh.

Today came as a surprise when we got a call that school was delayed. It seems the overnight snowfall that didn't stick and winds knocked some loose branches on powerlines around the area. We ended up with no school at all. That's day 7 off this year, and it's only fall.

 You used up 
all the glue 
on purpose!

Camden can make the best peanut butter cookies. 

He whipped these up from scratch last night. 

By this afternoon, they were gone.

Benjy's still waiting on this wiggler to fall out.

I've kept the flames burning all day.

Our Christmas card

Oh Holy Night Religious Christmas Card

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Look for yours in a mailbox near you!

Benjy.

Ah, where do I begin?

This little man has such a heart for Jesus.

He woke up from a deep sleep a few nights ago, wailing. Loud, mournful wailing. Camden was the first to hear, so he ran to comfort his baby brother. We followed the sound upstairs.

Curled up in his bed, rocking back and forth, Benjy cried about orphans, children in far-away Africa and right here in Windsor who have nothing, "and I have so many toys that I don't know what to do with them!" 

This mother's heart was ablaze with love.

"I just want to tell them about Jesus," he cried. "I just want them to know about God."

This boy who suffered colic, silent reflux, delayed speech, and sensory integration disorder is more in tune with God than many a wise man. Oh, to have the innocent perspective of an 8-year-old. To have that deep, unmoving faith and love and compassion. I can learn so much from this son of mine.

A few days later, Benjy and Camden gathered to box up the entire Playmobile collection amassed in recent years. It's worth a hefty sum on ebay. They filled one 2x3x3-foot box and another one slightly smaller. And there are still Playmobile pieces scattered hither and yon. Most of these are Benjy's. He has decided to send them to our fourth grade teacher's daughter, Cami. She's a missionary in the Dominican Republic who works with and loves the island's children. 

They need toys. Toys are a luxury there. Toys would bless children who may or may not have food to eat, beds to sleep on, clean water to drink. The heart of the Dominican Republic, far from the shipping ports where cruise liners dock for excursions, beats for a people in need. Benjy heard their cry. 

God, please help me to hear the cries of your people and then to do something, like my son did. Thank you, Lord, for Benjy's heart, which beats for You. Amen.

Wendi, the Hunchback of Windsor.

Sounds better than it looks.

And why yes, those are the very same blue oxford pajama bottoms I have had since 2003, purchased for a mere pence at the Eddie Bauer outlet in Columbus, Ohio, go Bucks, or something like that.

Our perfectly wonky $35 tree is still standing, soaking up the water that so far not a creature has lapped. Praise for our creatures!

This was the first year in quite a while that I actually hearted every single minute of decorating the tree. I poked through the Rubbermaid box, putting aside the cheesy store-bought ones that held no personal value, pulling out the decorations that meant something. Tomorrow, assuming I get home before dark, because the sun sets here at the alarming hour of 4:30 p.m., I'll post pictures of some of my favorite ornaments. One has been on my tree since I was a wee thing. You'll want to see pictures of me as a wee thing. Yes, you will.

I didn't always have a hunch back.

The awesome thing about trimming this tree? As I put ornaments on I found myself praying for the person who gave each decoration to us.

Prayers for Curt's sister, Tam, who gives us the most amazing, intricately carved wooden ornaments each year. Our tree is mostly full of these.

Prayers for Uncle Mike, who passed away last month, and his ex-wife Diane. They attached one ornament to the top of a package I was given when my years were numbered in single digits.

Prayers for my dear high school friend Laurie, whose aunts made the noodle angel ornament. Even if the halo has since broken.

Prayers for Camden and Benjy for all their hand-made goodness in the last decade.

Prayers for Curt's mom whose dinging blue bells are always the first to go on the tree.

Prayers after prayers after prayers. No wonder I felt so blessed adorning this tree with these precious memories and their people.

Asking for blessings reaps blessings.

Emmalemmalimabean.

The day after we thought we'd lost her.

Did you even know we've had her longer than Camden?

We've had Emma for EVER. 

The boys tested for their belts today. 

Benjy tested for his midterm purple belt. 

Isn't he amazing?

Yes, he is intense.

Seriouser than his momma.

Who utilizes a nice giggle to throw her opponent off.

And Camden?

He's seriouser.

Has been since the day he discovered a chocolate milkshake from Sonic.

The dude is intense.

And ... 

His own father is even more mature.

You see what I have to live with?

And yet, it brings absolute familinarity at Christmastime. 

Yes, familinarity is a new word. 

The lamp heralds the season for the hood.

Somebody has to represent!

Emma discovered the bone left behind by Scooter's people, Nana and Richard. 

Benjy found it under the couch cushions, Emma took it over, and the rest is history.

Seriously.

The bone is gone.

G.

O.

N.

E.

Vanished.

How do they actually ingest these materials???

We found a tree farm today on the way home from dropping off Benjy's friend. 

$35, the sign said.

Hmmmmmmmm.

We'd paid more than twice that for a our tree in Ohio - and that was in the 90s! These were dingdang Dollar Tree trees! 

We wandered around the farm finding this tree and that, and then settling on a Fraser 7-footer that was missing a few branches from one side.

No matter.

It was right for Camden.

It was right for Benjy.

It was completely wrong in all the right ways.

This was the wonkiest tree I've ever seen. 

We knew it was ours.

Don't you just love it?

We do!

Simple,  tall, lop-sided, electric, wonky. 

A tree for 2011.