Christmas Moments

I love Christmas. I really loved Christmas when I was a little girl. It was downright magical. The suspense of Santa. The endless amounts of sugar. Making presents for my parents at school. The church Christmas production. When you're 6, there's just not much to complain about in the month of December.

Once I found out the truth about Santa, I still found Christmastime to be magical. Mind you, I was devastated to find out this disappointing truth. But it was still exciting. I can remember waking up early with my siblings and the suspense of waiting to open our presents was almost unbearable yet completely thrilling.

The older I got it seemed the intensity of the Christmas magic lessened. It was still there. But instead of living in a mystical Christmas euphoria for a month, I would have moments that embodied Christmas bliss.

I can remember my sophomore year of college, my roommate and I went ridiculously all out to decorate our apartment for Christmas. I'm talking all out. We covered our walls with black paper and put up snowflakes, laid white, sparkly fluff on our living room floor for snow, hung a paper chain around the entire apartment, and there was more. I can remember one night we had all of the normal lights off, our Christmas lights on, hot peppermint tea in hand, and we sat in our magical living room talking for hours. That moment embodied Christmas bliss for me.

My Christmas in Thailand was...unique. But one morning, very, very early, I woke up my sweet girls to start getting ready for school. And like every morning, Sarah crawled into my lap and wanted to be held. This morning the girls were in the living room by our Christmas tree to avoid paint fumes in their bedroom. So, I held Sarah earlier than either one of us wanted to be awake in the light of the Christmas tree. And it was the sweetest Christmas moment for me.

And tonight I had one of those freeze time moments. We have the unbelievable delight of having my brother, his wife, and their cute daughter at our house for Christmas. After the AMAZING Christmas Eve dinner that my mom made, all of the "adults" were playing a game together, and I set to work to make a dessert for tomorrow. I was listening to some worship music when Ryann came walking into the kitchen asking, "Blue, whatchu doing?" Ryann immediately became my little helper. She kept saying, "I'm helpin Blue make a cake! So yummy!" We sat side by side, assembling quite the chocolate cake batter. Occasionally we would hear some shouts and loud laughter coming from the other room, but I wanted to be nowhere else. I loved having Ryann's help even if every step wasn't executed perfectly. It was a magical Christmas moment I wanted frozen in time.

And though I always want to have these moments that feel especially "Christmas," I'm finding I'm more and more grateful for the birth of my Savior. There's something about teaching preschoolers the story of Jesus' birth that made me take in the wonder of this story with a new appreciation. I tried to help them imagine a long journey to a far away place like Bethlehem. I tried to depict what a sight it must have been for the shepherds to witness the magnificent angels as they sang, "Glory to God in the hightest!" I wanted them to know that the reason why Christmas is so great is because God gave us the greatest gift of all- Jesus.

I sure do love Christmas. But I really love the reason for Christmas. Jesus' birth truly is the thrill of hope.

This is real

The past few weeks have transitioned me into a different phase of Seattle life. But before I proceed...

I got to go home for Thanksgiving at the mercy and generosity of my parents. And it was wonderful. I think Ryann was annoyed with my constant hugs, kisses, and squeezes after 2 hours. I just couldn't help it though; she's irresistible. It's amazing how much she's grown and matured. I wish I could put her in my 3s class. She's so stinkin' cute.

It was refreshing to see my family and some of my friends. I so appreciate the relationships that quickly pick-up without awkwardness or hesitancy. I am blessed beyond measure to have several of those in my life currently.

When it came time to leave, I was surprised at my inner resistance to head back to Seattle. I love my life here, but I was reminded of how much I left behind in Atlanta. Seattle is better than Atlanta for so many reasons in my mind, but Atlanta has relationships that are better than everything Seattle has to offer. Yet I'm confident this is where I'm supposed to be.

The thrill, adrenaline, and newness of my life has faded. Reality has sunk in: I'm a preschool teacher, high school cheer coach, and new resident of the state of Washington. None of it feels real. I take that back. The coach part feels very real. Because it's very time consuming. Very.

And I'm asking myself, "Now what?!"

I am confident that what I'm doing now, what I'm learning here, and how God is calling me deeper in relationship with Him is all purposeful. This is training ground for something later, and God is expanding my tool belt, if you will. But there's a part of me that's wondering how long I can settle here before I'll be taking off again. There's something very appealing to me about experiencing new things. Going new places. Meeting new people.

But the more attached I get to my team, the harder it sounds to pack up and go. At the beginning of the season, I was keeping the cheerleaders a little distanced from me, but I couldn't maintain that for long. My freshmen are begging me to stay until they graduate. But when I think about being here for the next 3.5 years, I shudder. I can really only handle one day at a time right now.

The past couple of days I've been reading 2 Corinthians 4. Verses 6 and 7 say this, "For God, who said, 'Let light shine out of darkness,' has shone in our hearts to give the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ. But we have this treasure in jars of clay, to show that the surpassing power belongs to God and not to us."

As this next part of the transition process is feeling a little harder and a little more real, my prayer is that I would remain a jar of clay. It's so easy for me to want to come across as being something much more sophisticated than simple clay. When in fact, I am clay- with cracks, dents, and stains. Just as miraculous as it was when God spoke light into the darkness, so it is just as miraculous that God would allow me, a broken, fallen being, to have Christ live in me. The beauty of the Gospel. The amazingness of grace. I was but an ordinary, fragile, clay jar, and now Christ's power resides in me.

I pray that the inadequacy of who I am would be known so that the surpassing greatness of Jesus inside of me would be made so apparent.