Bah Humbug

After being away from home for 11 days, I'm back at home and realizing that we are now 'officially' in the Christmas season. I know that it starts earlier and earlier each year in the world around us, but I have always resisted pulling down my boxes of decorations and popping my Christmas CDs in the stereo until the day after Thanksgiving. Instead of shopping with the insane masses, I stay home and get myself in the Christmas spirit. Obviously, this year we weren't home on the day after Thanksgiving, so now that I am home I'm contemplating when and how I'm going to go about this Christmas business...

I've been asking myself for the last few days: "What is the minimum I can get away with in decorating without feeling like I am cheating my family of Christmas spirit or adding my name to a list with the likes of Ebenezer Scrooge?" I'm trying to figure out if it's just my exhaustion talking after our travels, or if I just want to focus the energy that I do have on more important things... like baking cookies. Or perhaps it's the fact that with an extra little person in our home this year, and all the gear that comes with having a baby around, I can't seem to imagine where in the world we would put a WHOLE tree! Wouldn't a nice garland around the fireplace and hanging stockings be enough?

My next question has been: "Do I really have to go shopping in the holiday madness?" Each year I resolve to have my Christmas shopping DONE before the 1st of December, but that has yet to happen. Don't get me wrong -- I love to shop for other people and to give them something unique or practical that they wouldn't get for themselves. But again, who wouldn't rather stay home and make chocolate dipped pretzels and caramel pecan turtles? I do know that as some of my family members have asked me what I want for Christmas, my gut tendency has been to say "Absolutely nothing!" I'm confident that stems from the fact that we are living in a home with next to zero storage space and I feel like for every item brought in the door something else has to go.

Are my kids young enough that I won't scar them for life by minimizing the decor? Or should I put my own Bah Humbug-ness aside to cherish the joy of watching my daughter hang ornaments on the tree? Should I tell everyone not to get a gift for me because I truly don't NEED anything? Or will I steal the joy of giving that I so enjoy doing for others?

Too much to blog about

I really need to blog! I've been gone from home for just over a week, and there has been so much that I've been wanting to write about, but so little time, and so few internet connections! So many things, like our visit in Madison with our dear friends the Joneses, celebrating life and introducing our newest family editions who are only 14 hours apart in age; like being reunited with my neighbor and best friend from my growing-up years after 18 years apart; like seeing all three of my children's great-grandparents and lots of multi-generational photos taken; like a chaotic but laughter-filled Thanksgiving day; like sleeping on 4 different beds in 4 states in 4 days (oh, the kinks in my back and neck!); like hearing my daughter tell my mother that the best part of our trip was "coming back to Grandma's house" (no, I did NOT put her up to that!). But I'm about to hit the hay, so it'll have to wait another day!

I'm an easy target

When your family is involved in ministry, I think it must be a direct opening to invite Satan to attack at the most inopportune times. And he doesn't just target those in ministry, he takes aim at family and loved ones, particularly when ministry needs take priority for a time. I've always known that and felt it, and I've seen it happen to so many others I've worked with. I remember when I was working at YFC and my boss would leave town, it would be just at those times that his family's basement would flood, or the garage door would fall on the car, or his kid would break an arm playing soccer. When we had African staff gathering for a training conference or in the States to do fundraising, that's when illness would hit their family back home, a car accident would take the life of another staff member, or some other tragedy would befall. I easily recognize one of the more severe times when it happened to me: when my dad had open-heart surgery a few days before I was scheduled to leave to live in Kenya for several months, and then my grandpa passed away the night before I departed, I didn't want to leave my family (especially my mom who was both grieving for her father and caring for my dad), but I knew God wanted me in Kenya and I had to make that choice to go.

I've kind of had one of those days, on a much smaller scale, but I didn't really realize it until now. As this is the busiest week of my husband's year, and today the one day of the week when he truly needed to focus on presenting his information to the International Board who are in town, this is the day that I wake up with my eye half swollen shut. I'm terrible with this kind of stuff. I'm a pretty healthy person, so when something happens to me like this I feel like I'm at a total loss. I become overly emotional, don't know where to go for care, don't know which card to use to pay for it and I completely draw a blank on how insurance works as a whole. I want my hubby to do it for me, or at least with me, and on a day like today that just couldn't happen. So I lose my temper with my daughter, grumble about spending half of the day before we leave town at urgent care, and resent the organization that is not only my husband's employer but also practically our family!

Looking back at my morning, I wish I would have recognized it earlier this time for what it was. I should have prayed first and asked God for guidance (instead of asking my busy husband who had a few other things on his plate). But I suppose this is part of the learning process, and I certainly have plenty of room to grow. And since I don't anticipate his employment changing anytime soon, I'll also have plenty of time to do it in, and, unfortunately, probably plenty more opportunities.

Grenades of life

Hearing from several friends who have had a rough week, I'm reminded of a story I heard a few months ago from a gal in my Bible study. She was visiting her son at the military academy he attended for 'parents weekend' that they turned into a sort of boot camp for the visiting family members. The parents were then able to see the kinds of things their sons were challenged with in their time there.

One of the activities was launching paint-filled grenades at a stationary tank. This mother was a bit intimidated by the huge grenade launcher balanced in her small untrained arms, but a cadet was there to assist and encourage her. She had five chances. The first grenade hit the tank with a huge orange splash of paint, and she felt pretty good about herself. But the other four all fell short, splattering on the ground all around the foot of the tank.

She was greatly discouraged by this until the cadet assisting her spoke up. He said, "No, ma'am, you did very well! It isn't the direct hits that matter so much, but the ones that impede the tank's progress."

Isn't that so true of our lives? I know that I go through times where there is so much garbage going on around me that my thoughts are constantly dwelling on it. And isn't that exactly what the Enemy wants? We may not always take a direct hit, but we get so bogged down and distracted by the "grenades" that are landing all around us. I admit that I often end up looking at the hole left by the bomb's blast, or searching the sky for where the next one might come from. He wants us to lose our focus on God and instead fix our thoughts on the joyless circumstances around us. That's so easy to do!

Instead... Hebrews 12:2 "Let us fix our eyes on Jesus...."

Closet Cookie-Eater

I love chocolate chip cookies. They are one of my comfort foods, my weaknesses, my favorites. As much as we try to eat healthfully in our home, they are one of a few things that I can't--won't--give up. During my daughter's naptime today, I found myself finishing off the last of the chocolate chip cookies. I looked at the clock and realized she could be waking up at any moment and walking into the room, and so I quickly buried the evidence in the trash can. (She actually likes to open the lid and look in there sometimes, just for fun, so I have to hide things sometimes under other less attractive trash.) I was actually nervous about getting caught by my 3-year-old! How bad is that?! I'm a closet cookie-eater... Is there a support group for that?

War sucks

This weekend my hubby and I watched two movies. Flags of our Fathers and Letters from Iwo Jima -- two sides of the same true story of the battle for Iwo Jima in World War II. We started with Flags and were so intrigued by it that we were pausing the movie to Google questions we had. We were both overwhelmed with the statistics and the story so much so that the next night we got Letters. I could hardly wait until the kids were in bed so we could put it in. Sounds morbid, perhaps, especially since they were both rated R for violence (it is, after all, war). But there's something really cool about a movie made by a big-name producer that has ties to my personal family history. You see, my grandfather was in the Navy in World War II. He was either one of those men who didn't talk much about his experience after returning home, or I was too young to ask the right questions (not to mention that I didn't really appreciate history as a subject until I became and adult). But I learned a few years ago at my grandpa's funeral that he was on one of the ships that evacuated American soldiers off Iwo Jima after the battle. Needless to say, the true story depicted in these movies intrigued me, and seeing the ships at sea on the screen made me thinking of my grandpa and wonder about his experience.

Even though it was hard to watch the carnage -- twice -- the movies both did an excellent job of doing more than just retracing the battle lines and telling the story. They got inside the minds of the soldiers and made me think about things like heroism and patriotism and honor and what they truly mean vs. the trite terms they become when we misuse them. I couldn't help but shake my head over and over at the similarities of the fears and struggles and hopes of the men on both sides. When we finished watching the second one, I think the first thing out of my mouth besides a sigh was my not-so-terribly-intelligent comment that I thought pretty much summed up how I felt: "War sucks."

Boy, if that doesn't make you want to watch these movies I don't know what will! Okay, I'm being facetious, but seriously, if you're looking for something more than just a few hours of entertainment or something that might make you think (gasp!), then I'd cautiously venture to recommend these. Definitely watch Flags of our Fathers first (the American soldier's perspective) and then Letters from Iwo Jima (the Japanese soldier's perspective). I'd be interested to hear your thoughts, if you want to share them.

Not my best moment

I did something today that I told myself I wouldn't ever do again. I can't say I 'swore' or 'promised' I wouldn't do it, but I was hopeful that things would be different, that my resolve would be stronger, that I would ignore my inhibitions and the glare of the public eye.

I nursed my son in a public bathroom stall. Ugh.

When my daughter was a baby, she was a noisy, messy nurser, and she absolutely hated being hidden under a blanket or shawl when I was feeding her. Nothing could touch her head or face without her screaming and making a scene. So much for discreet nursing! I remember numerous times when we were out and about and I would take her into a bathroom to nurse, realizing there was just no other place to do it where I wouldn't be exposed to every passer-by. Sometimes I sat sideways on the edge of the seat and sometimes I just stood (she was super fast!). But I hated that feeling of desperation -- that there was no suitable place besides this echoing chamber of germ infestation to do what needed to be done.

But this time around I was determined to start when my son was young to get him accustomed to being covered up while nursing. I had a renewed resolve to be a positive example to the public that nursing can be done modestly and isn't shameful or unlawful. I had desperately hoped to find alternate private venues in public places. But just as we have no guarantee on how our children's personalities will turn out, we can't guarantee they will cooperate in infancy as we hope. And I have to admit that on this occasion I wasn't prepared to even try.

At the mall today after church, we were having lunch in the food court and I knew it was time for a diaper change. But he wanted something more, and looking at my watch I knew he was not going to sit quietly through the rest of our lunch unless he got it. Both our car and any department store offering the luxury of a real 'rest' room were too far away. After a quick diaper change, desperation led to a hasty decision, for the sake of my eardrums and the looks I was getting that said have-you-no-control-over-your-own-child? I slipped into the last stall in the corner and closed the door. Ugh. I managed to balance by leaning against one wall and putting my foot up on the bar of the other wall to bear the bulk of his weight, so at least I didn't have to sit. And as my son contentedly ate, I felt that I had let us both down -- and we were only 3 1/2 months into this his life! But I also felt relief that I had satisfied his need and could return to my family and actually enjoy the rest of my lunch.

I hear one of the ritzy stores at the other end of the mall has bug cushy couches in their ladies' room. Perhaps next time we are there I'll have to check it out... BEFORE lunch.