There are moments I want to stomp my feet and shout for everyone to just stop. There comes upon me this deep ache and feeling that I want more….that this is not what it is about. This is not what life is about. This is not it.

Stop.

I find that it happens a lot at this time of the year. The other day I wrote about Advent and about wanting to not be so impacted by the stress of the worldly holiday season. To be able to find that place of worship and wonder.

Wonder.

I want to be moved deeply. Not an emotional high, or an emotionally charged feeling of love or whatever.

I want to ache….to be so moved that it goes beyond the emotions and the intellect and there is something that makes me want to shout to everyone to stop and pay attention.

Luminarias can do it to me. Sunsets can. Worship in the congregation can. Communion can.  Art can. Music can.

The look of absolute trust from my children can.

The ache that affirms that all of this hoopla of Christmas is something grand and amazing and we need to stop and pay attention.

Not to the sales and the manic feeling of having to have it all right. Pay attention to the quiet under it all, to the whispers that this amazing grace is true and that this faith that I believe is more than fairy tale and wishful thinking.

“All this indescribable thing that we call the Christmas atmosphere only hangs in the air as something like a lingering fragrance of fading vapour from the exultant explosion of that one hour in the Judean hills nearly two thousand years ago.” – Chesterton

Yes!  I want to be overwhelmed by wonder. And I want that deeply for my children. I want images to be formed in their minds and impressions to be made on their hearts that forms their imagination. That the absolute wonder and amazing fact that God became man would stop them in their tracks. That Christmas would not be dominated by thoughts of wish lists and toys, but that somehow in the midst of the twinkling lights and the celebration they would get it.

That this faith is real. That it changes everything. That God became one of us. That we would ache because we know that we just taste the edge of reality and we will one day see it clearly….and the wonder will be complete.

There are certain things that I simply will never forget. The Christmas that I got Muffin the mini poodle. The first time riding a horse. The first time I went to the beach in California by myself. Meeting Steve for the first time. When I became a mother.

And Christmas in New Mexico. I remember dressing in velvet dresses and going outside to light the hundred of luminaries that we lined our sidewalk and the roof of the house with. Literally hundreds. I can remember feeling so big being out there with my brothers lighting the little lanterns.

Then we would gather and have a glorious meal that lasted hours with lots of conversation and laughter. We would get to open one present. Dad would read the story of the first Christmas and we would head out to the midnight service at the Episcopal Church.

I remember a few of the toys…but I’ll always remember that feeling of celebration and family.

Now, December 1st and I find myself looking over Christmas wish lists and talking with Steve to figure out what to get and how to make things even. Looking at the calendar that is filling rapidly with good, but busy, schedules. There is that little inkling of stress starting to find its way into my day.

I’m resisting it.  My friend Vicky wrote about this as well today, and she has some great thoughts about keeping ourselves focused. It is work. It has to be intentional. We cannot just slide through the holiday season and find that we have done well in staying worshipful and hopeful and focused.

One of the things I’ve tried to do is have an Advent reading. I’m going to try this one with the boys at bedtime. Still haven’t settled on one for myself (I know, I need to get with it!), and I’m open to suggestions. Our church is decorated and there is that sense that this is special. It doesn’t really matter to me whether or not Jesus was born exactly on Dec 24th….it matters that this is when His Body celebrates that He came.

So, be intentional.

Be creative.

Be calm.

Be hopeful.

Prepare yourself to celebrate and rejoice and settle in to the fact that our God came. He is. He will come again. Hallelujah.

Going to do the prayer requests for a few weeks and we’ll see what happens after the start of the year. I don’t want it to be forced, but at the same time I like the opportunity to mention some requests.

* Riley My friend’s son in Vancouver. He is still in the hospital doing treatments after the last attack. They have somewhat changed the diagnosis, and now it looks like Riley may have a condition that will impact him for life. He is 7 years old. Please pray for Riley and for his mom Nancy as well as the whole family.

*Erunner’s nephew  he is in Afghanistan. Praying for his safety.

*Kevin Another friend from PP who has struggled for a long season with pain and the drs have not been able to come up with solutions or diagnosis.

*Reuben: Needing to close on a house quickly. Praying for it to happen before Thanksgiving!!!

*Noelle: Her husband found work (wonderful, thankful!) but it is far from home and he will be gone long lengths of time.

* Those struggling this holiday season. We all know that there are many around us who struggle during the holiday season. Some have a difficult time expressing this. If you want some insights, please read this article.  Randall Slack was involved in the Phoenix Preacher blog, is a pastor an has personal understanding. It is worth reading…and then praying and keeping our eyes open this season to those around us.

So very thankful for a good trip to NM. Maddie is the wonder-girl, which I already knew, but she is also a wonder-traveler. She made friends on every flight. She made Grandma smile lots and has Grandpa firmly wrapped around her finger. It was a delight to be with the NM clan during Thanksgiving, and I found that my sister-in-law Stacy is a fantastic cook and I like red chili sauce on turkey!
Hope you all had a wonderful Thanksgiving. I can feel the stress of Christmas sneaking in, and am determined to not be overcome by it. We have lots going on with parties and school performances and school parties…and a trip to the cabins in Gatlinburg! I think we might have been crazy to add that, but I also am hoping it will be a great relaxing time in the midst of the season.

Please post any prayer requests you have.

This picture was taken on my folks’ place in Colorado. We had seen the deer a ways from the house and Dad told me to jump on the snowmobile an we would go try to get pictures.  I jumped on behind him, holding on to the snowmobile with one hand and the camera with the other. His camera. His nice camera.

I checked the speedometer one time and was surprised to know how quickly we could get up to 50 miles an hour. We found the spot the deer had dodged into the brush by the river and followed them on foot. I felt like a National Geographic photographer. Except my pictures were not completely in focus. Still, I did get this one and I never dropped the camera, so I’m happy.

This place is a place of peace. The deer come through and graze, even coming up to the house to munch on the apples from the apple tree. Dad has buried a few of his beloved pets under the apple trees. There is a river that runs through the property and the sunsets are wonderful. For the most part the place is quiet. It is easy to steal away to the river, or even just out to the porch, and collect your thoughts.

My house isn’t quite like this. There are, I believe, 17 children and youth under the age of 17 on our cul-de-sac. There are lots of neighborhood dogs. Who like to bark. There are x-box games and computer games and soccer games and glorious games played only in the mud. There is noise. Lots of noise. There is no river to sit beside and no easy access to quiet.

And yet sometimes I am very aware of that need for a moment of silence. Madeleine L’Engle (yes, her again!) tells it this way:

“Vacuum cleaners are simply something more for me to trip over; and a kitchen floor, no matter how grubby, looks better before I wax it. The sight of a meal’s worth of dirty dishes, pots, and pans makes me want to run in the other direction. Every so often I need OUT; something will throw me into total disproportion, and I have to get away from everybody – away from all these people I love most in the world – in order to regain a sense of proportion.”

I have those moments.  I can’t explain them, but I need the space and I need the time to simply be, without any requirements. To regain a sense of proportion.

Jesus did this, yes? He knew the need to be alone with His Father. He knew the need to protect Himself from being completely depleted. When we don’t protect ourselves from that, we become useless.

When I am not selfish for that time, I find that I become irritable and frustrated and tend to bark rather than speak. I’m useless.

I wish that I had the river my parents have in the backyard. Or the creek that L’Engle goes on to describe as her place to get away from everything. I do have a greenway and a creek that is within walking distance. I also have a back porch with the same sky L’Engle gazed at and that overlooks my parents’ river. I have to be a little more creative…but the silence and places of re-proportioning are there.

How about you? How do we find these touchstones in our world today….in the busyness and noise of our lives? In the cul-de-sacs that are filled with noisy children and barking dogs and lack of peaceful rivers? And how do we teach our children that this is as important as finishing the next level on the x-box?