Merry Christmas!

With the holidays in full swing, I wish you a very Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!  Here are pictures from some holiday parties we've attended, full of:  

adorable little ones,

 

cookie decorating,

good friends,

beautiful creations,

well needed rest, 

winter weather,

wonderful food, 

warm hugs,

and the blessings of celebrating when Love took on skin, 

God-man came with grace and mercy,

with tidings of comfort and joy. 

Merry Christmas to you all!

birthday beaching

Twenty-six snuck up on me this year, back in November.  Tucked in between exams and commutes, the chance to memorialize another year of blessings almost slipped by unnoticed. 

But beauty called, and Mark had the good sense to help me answer.  

We walked for several hours, and I learned that these birds are called sandpipers and a wheat-like grass grows on the beach.

A drenched little butterfly washed up out of the ocean a few feet ahead of us.  Mark tried to save many similar butterflies as a child, but none had ever survived, he said.  We stooped to pick it up, careful not to touch its wings despite the sand that glimmered on its delicate surfaces.

We would try to save this little one anyway.    

I don't know whether the little butterfly has the stamina to recover its turmoil; we left it perched on a sign, sunning and drying.  So fragile, so hopeful, I said a little prayer for it.  G-d cares for even the sparrows, and surely, this little one too.

(From the camera archives...)

It was a beautiful birthday, one of the many thousands of blessings I have been given.

#22-29 of the thousands of blessings
~ a thoughtful and adventurous fiance
~ visiting with our families for the holidays
~ safe travels
~ fresh and real snow for skiing with Mark's dad, my first black diamond
~ our parents and their example of dealing with great challenges
~ a warm bed & good night stories
~ thoughtful neighbors who drop casseroles by
~ a fun evening with some of Mark's high school friends

 
 

ringing the bell

The bell rang with a finality I couldn't feel in my heart that first time.

Outgoing students had gathered to ring the school's steepled bell, according to treasured tradition.  We climbed old wooden stairs, bowing under the weight of many feet and years.  My first ringing was timid, under appreciated.  I hadn't realized what it meant to be leaving then, or what it would mean to have to come back.

Now, this second time around, I pulled hard on that grainy rope.  The bell rang deep and clear this time, with laughter and pictures and hot apple cider.  Even the littlest one seemed to enjoy the adventure, despite his insistence that we "go to the inside" to escape the ever growing cold.     

I know that in the relative near future, I will miss all these halls, the bricks that leak history.  I know I am a student at heart.  This place has a special hold on me.

But for now, I am so grateful for closure.  And sleep.

mittens

When I helped to milk the cows in the winter while I was growing up, I would wear two pairs of thick cotton gloves with a pair of disposable plastic gloves over them to keep everything dry.  While my movement was constricted a bit, it was the only way I could ever figure out to keep my hands warm, dry, and limber enough to complete my tasks.  I've always been partial to gloves instead of mittens based on these experiences. 

Now that I'm not on the farm, I have a big pair of pretty, fluffy, red fleece gloves.  They have cute white seams on the edges that make me love them even though they are about two sizes too big.

It's rain-snowing outside right now.  As a walked to the library this morning, my hands couldn't seem to stay warm.  Despite the multiple layers of fleece, my pretty puffy red gloves simply weren't holding in the heat, failing to protect my fingers from the wind and cold.  And given my discomfort, the prospect of mittens actually sounded pleasant.  Mittens would keep my fingers together, allowing them to experience friction, sharing and generating heat.
 
A small voice spoke in my head, reminding me that I have often preferred cold reality of individual insulation to challenges of creating a warm community.  And yet, the community I have-- Mark, family, friends, church, and colleagues-- are the only thing that have made finishing this degree possible.  I'm only one, eight hour exam away from finishing, and it's a tribute to the love and support that they have given me.

And so.... the endless, gifts continue.... #11-21

~ my mitten of community
~ my graduation ceremony on Saturday, a step of faith since I haven't actually finished quite yet
~ grace and strength for finishing papers and finals
~ safety during travels and commuting
~ the Yule Log Ceremony, my favorite holiday tradition at the College
~ the kindness of a friend sharing her internet  and company
~ holiday parties that bring together friends from seasons past
~ a fiance who cooks dinner when I've written up to a deadline
~ "White Christmas" and heroes of many kinds
~ a warm bed and food on the table
~ the Dwelling Place Adopt-a-Room Program

notes of encouragement

This morning, I took out a little box of notes I've saved over the years.  They are from people who have known me at radically different times and situations in my life.  Some of the authors are still friends; other have faded out of my life.  One author even went Home. 

These notes of encouragement help me to remember who I want to be, even if I don't feel like that person right now.  They admonish me to stay dedicated to G-d, relationships, and purposes of redemption in this world.  They remind me to foster the gift of comforting and listening, even when I'm busy.  They compel me to persevere.

Their words have power, and they 'just' encourage me.   

Thousands of Gifts

A Holy Experience, written by Ann Voskamp, has challenged and inspired me lately.  Ann's words remind me of my roots of faith, family, and farming.  Her pictures ring true for me.  Her father's-- and Father's-- hands look like mine. Even though my world looks very different from her right now, she still feels like a kindred spirit (even though she points out that her name is spelled without the 'e').    

I'm planning on linking up to her blog through a community called One Thousand Gifts.



Maybe I will write a post explaining why I've undertaken gratitude journal, but my energy is lacking now.  Suffice it to say that I believe that practicing gratitude can change a person in a good, godly way.  Writing it down here is simply a way of keeping myself accountable and to share the blessings of thankfulness.  There's more to it, but that will have to do for now.

#1-10 of the Thousands of Gifts
~ a patient fiance
~ Isaiah 30:21- "Your ears shall hear a word behind you, saying, "This is the way, walk in it."
~ catching up with a dear sister
~ a quiet house
~ tears that give release
~ wisdom shared by pastors during pre-martial counseling
~ cleaning and feeling helpful
~ a friend's defense on Tuesday, long awaited closure
~ the generosity of grandparents
~ being included in emails from my new family

term paper

I have been writing a lot lately.  Not the kind of writing that I prefer.  The kind that I must.

And the right words were not coming, the pages scattered with words, leaves without a trunk.  I had been staring at them, scratching out the pages, doubting my argument, for several weeks.  I wanted desperately for them to make sense, to be wise, to be finished.

A walk was necessary-- and prayer. I finger my dove necklace, praying for peace... and wisdom, clarity, and closure.  For the end of the storm, and the paper. 
 
And I was blessed when I returned.  The winds of doubt cleared, and my thoughts were freed.  In several hours, twenty odd and disjointed pages became thirty somewhat better, more structured ones.  The argument finally made sense.

More importantly, I was not ashamed to defend my position.

It was the grace and mercy of G-d displayed in a term paper.

the last

In twenty minutes, I will have my last class at The College. 

It's hard to believe, harder still to understand.  I feel like I should be excited or sad, but it mostly just feels like I'm going to class.

Like normal. 

And it occurs to me that life is made up of these little normal moments that slide by.... sometimes unnoticed, sometimes celebrated, sometimes grieved. 

I want to learn to take pictures.  So that I can make a record of normal moments.  If I had a camera right now, I'd take a picture of my coffee cup, my books, my planner and phone strewn across this desk, laying on coat and scarf crumpled up but relieved of the cold.  And although the awful fluorescent light would probably skew the beauty, I would record this moment. The normalcy of finishing something you started.

May my song and prayer and testimony be that, by the grace of G-d,  "I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith." (2 Timothy 4:7)  May I notice the normal, be present in it, and live it in faithfulness.