I've been doing some reading lately, and I'm starting to look at my life differently because of it. Somehow, Ted Dekker's books point my vision to a place beyond what I can see, to a world of possibilities and the kingdom of God. Reading his books makes me hungry for something more in my life, and I realize that even though I think I'm doing well following God, there's still a little more of me that I can give up and a little more of Him that I need. Okay, a lot more.
As I sit here typing, I'm thinking of the morning I just had. I actually read a bit from my bible at breakfast this morning, and I came across this verse: "If you try to keep your life for yourself, you will lose it. But if you give up your life for me, you will find true life" (Matthew 16:25). Then, as I ate my lunch later on, I was reading Olive Shoots Around Your Table by John Visser (which my ladies' group is doing a study on), and I came across the same verse.
Gradually, as I looked around my kitchen, seeing the pot of coffee warming, the cupcakes cooling on the stovetop, the dishes by the sink waiting to be washed, the cabinet full of knick knacks and bowls of fruit, I started to see past the ordinary things that I view every day. In essence, I started to look past the happy, complacent feeling I get when I survey my domain, and I started to want something else. Something far more, and yet somehow, far less. I wanted the kingdom of God. I wanted to push past the ordinary and live an extraordinary life.
I'm not sure how to do that, though. Do we pick up and move to a mud hut in the middle of the jungle? Do I do a major de-cluttering session and donate everything to charity? I have a feeling that the answer is something much more intangible, much less simple, and much more frightening. To put it the way Ted Dekker did in A Man Called Blessed, I think I need to step off the cliff. I'm just not sure where the cliff is.
But suddenly, I really want to find it. It's like God has pulled back a veil from my eyes and my heart, and the desire for his kingdom is becoming stronger than my desire for a safe, comfortable life. I don't know what's happening to me exactly, but I'm excited. And I'm praying that whatever He's doing in my heart, He'll keep going.
Tuesday, December 18, 2007
Monday, December 10, 2007
Solving the Christmas Mystery
As of this summer, I have been married for five years. Over these five years, I've learned a lot about my husband, but one thing has always puzzled me: Christmas. Why does he say he hates Christmas?
To me, everything about the season is lovely and magical and happy. I love the lights, and the tree, and the cookies, and the eggnog, and the music, and the -- well. You get my point. But to Dave, all of these lovely things seem to be torture of the worst kind. And the more I tried to get him to like it, the more he'd groan and resist.
Well, this year, we had a breakthrough. I'm finally starting to understand what drives him so crazy, and -- horror of horrors! -- I kind of know what he's talking about.
It all started when one Saturday, to my surprise, he suggested we put the Christmas tree up. My husband? Actually wanting to decorate the tree? But it was still November, and, as delighted as I was, I remarked, "But honey, I haven't made any Christmas cookies yet! We can't decorate the tree without sugar cookies to eat and eggnog to drink."
When he threw up his hands in disgust and said, "Forget it," I knew I was on dangerous ground. Here we were, finally at a place where he was willing to participate in Christmas activities, and somehow, I was blowing it. What was wrong? Didn't he like cookies?
It was in the next couple minutes that I learned something quite profound. Something that we adults all seem to know, deep down inside, but we ignore for the sake of tradition and holiday cheer.
Christmas is too complicated.
My low-key, laid-back, tired-because-work-is-so-busy husband just wanted to do something fun with the kids. And I wanted to make it complicated with all my talk of shortbread and hot chocolate. All that work was taking the fun out of Christmas, he said.
Isn't it just so true? As an adult, I had slowly been realizing the same thing. Now that it's my responsibility to clean up after the kids and bake delectable goodies and make sure everyone gets a fair amount of gifts, Christmas has been getting less and less fun every year. But I blew the feeling off, thinking that if I could just have a little more time to do everything just right, it would become fun again. My philosophy was basically that enough sugar cookies and lighted fake evergreen garlands could bring back the magic of my childhood Christmases.
Boy, was I wrong.
So now, in an effort to sincerely make the best Christmas for my husband and children, I'm trying a new philosophy: Simplicity.
It's not as easy as it sounds. I'm really struggling with trying to figure out nice, inexpensive, thoughtful gifts that take no time. And, as much as we try to clear our schedule, there are just some holiday events that we don't want to miss. I'm cutting back on my baking, but I don't want to go without any cookies. And, the less I want to do myself, the more I have to spend to get someone else to do it for me.
I can tell that simplifying Christmas could be difficult, but I'm willing to give it my best shot. After all, my favourite part of the season isn't really the lights, or the tree, or the cookies, or the eggnog, or the music. It's the birthday. And that birthday was really, ultimately, about one thing: Love.
So why should our Christmas be about anything else?
To me, everything about the season is lovely and magical and happy. I love the lights, and the tree, and the cookies, and the eggnog, and the music, and the -- well. You get my point. But to Dave, all of these lovely things seem to be torture of the worst kind. And the more I tried to get him to like it, the more he'd groan and resist.
Well, this year, we had a breakthrough. I'm finally starting to understand what drives him so crazy, and -- horror of horrors! -- I kind of know what he's talking about.
It all started when one Saturday, to my surprise, he suggested we put the Christmas tree up. My husband? Actually wanting to decorate the tree? But it was still November, and, as delighted as I was, I remarked, "But honey, I haven't made any Christmas cookies yet! We can't decorate the tree without sugar cookies to eat and eggnog to drink."
When he threw up his hands in disgust and said, "Forget it," I knew I was on dangerous ground. Here we were, finally at a place where he was willing to participate in Christmas activities, and somehow, I was blowing it. What was wrong? Didn't he like cookies?
It was in the next couple minutes that I learned something quite profound. Something that we adults all seem to know, deep down inside, but we ignore for the sake of tradition and holiday cheer.
Christmas is too complicated.
My low-key, laid-back, tired-because-work-is-so-busy husband just wanted to do something fun with the kids. And I wanted to make it complicated with all my talk of shortbread and hot chocolate. All that work was taking the fun out of Christmas, he said.
Isn't it just so true? As an adult, I had slowly been realizing the same thing. Now that it's my responsibility to clean up after the kids and bake delectable goodies and make sure everyone gets a fair amount of gifts, Christmas has been getting less and less fun every year. But I blew the feeling off, thinking that if I could just have a little more time to do everything just right, it would become fun again. My philosophy was basically that enough sugar cookies and lighted fake evergreen garlands could bring back the magic of my childhood Christmases.
Boy, was I wrong.
So now, in an effort to sincerely make the best Christmas for my husband and children, I'm trying a new philosophy: Simplicity.
It's not as easy as it sounds. I'm really struggling with trying to figure out nice, inexpensive, thoughtful gifts that take no time. And, as much as we try to clear our schedule, there are just some holiday events that we don't want to miss. I'm cutting back on my baking, but I don't want to go without any cookies. And, the less I want to do myself, the more I have to spend to get someone else to do it for me.
I can tell that simplifying Christmas could be difficult, but I'm willing to give it my best shot. After all, my favourite part of the season isn't really the lights, or the tree, or the cookies, or the eggnog, or the music. It's the birthday. And that birthday was really, ultimately, about one thing: Love.
So why should our Christmas be about anything else?
Driving... Me Crazy
I don't know how much you know about me, but let me give you a brief glimpse into my life. I am a mother of four little boys, the last two of whom are 7-month-old twins. My oldest is 3 and a half, and my middle son is turning two any day now. Life, for me, is either simple or extremely not simple, depending on the day.
Take, for instance, last week. I had three doctor's appointments to go to, none of them for me, and all of them requiring a babysitter for the other boys. Looking back, I don't think I loaded them all into the van as often as it feels like, but in my emotional memory, it was about 200 times. Each. With each of these times requiring the preparation of bottles, the packing of diapers and clean clothes, the applying and re-applying of mittens, and all the chasing and coaxing needed to get two little toddlers into boots and coats. Oh, and then the realization that I was already five minutes late leaving, but I still hadn't eaten anything yet that day.
And there, in the back of my mind all week, was this thought: "What about your website, Amanda? When are you going to write more? When are you going to find more, really cool, very interesting gift ideas? It IS the Christmas season, after all..." That's right. I found myself a wonderful, work-from-home "job" that I'm the boss of, and now it's nagging me, too! But, I have to say that, just like I love my kids even when they're a lot of work, I also love this website.
I love thinking of new ideas, and hearing how it's affected other people, and listening for God's voice in my life so I can share what I'm learning. And I love the feeling that, even though I'm a stay-at-home mom with a pile of dishes to do and stories to read, I can have a relationship with other people out there who might feel like I did last week.
So come visit me often, and leave me your stories to read, too. Then, the next time I'm loading four squirming boys into the car to go somewhere, I'll at least be able to smile about my new friends.
Take, for instance, last week. I had three doctor's appointments to go to, none of them for me, and all of them requiring a babysitter for the other boys. Looking back, I don't think I loaded them all into the van as often as it feels like, but in my emotional memory, it was about 200 times. Each. With each of these times requiring the preparation of bottles, the packing of diapers and clean clothes, the applying and re-applying of mittens, and all the chasing and coaxing needed to get two little toddlers into boots and coats. Oh, and then the realization that I was already five minutes late leaving, but I still hadn't eaten anything yet that day.
And there, in the back of my mind all week, was this thought: "What about your website, Amanda? When are you going to write more? When are you going to find more, really cool, very interesting gift ideas? It IS the Christmas season, after all..." That's right. I found myself a wonderful, work-from-home "job" that I'm the boss of, and now it's nagging me, too! But, I have to say that, just like I love my kids even when they're a lot of work, I also love this website.
I love thinking of new ideas, and hearing how it's affected other people, and listening for God's voice in my life so I can share what I'm learning. And I love the feeling that, even though I'm a stay-at-home mom with a pile of dishes to do and stories to read, I can have a relationship with other people out there who might feel like I did last week.
So come visit me often, and leave me your stories to read, too. Then, the next time I'm loading four squirming boys into the car to go somewhere, I'll at least be able to smile about my new friends.
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