The flurry of activity is in full swing this season with filling knitting orders, making gifts, shopping, wrapping, hosting birthday parties, going to more, baking, class parties, church activities and more, along with the regular-ness of everyday life. Amidst all this one would wonder, why would I decide now is the time to begin a blog?
I'm all for simplifying and removing myself from as much of the craziness as possible, so I suppose this is my way of staying true to that and centering myself and my thoughts. I've also realized suddenly that my Christmas has already come and the way to honor it is to record the gifts I've been given.
First is the gift of encouragement from my wonderful husband who recognizes my need to have a little world all to my own and so has given me the time, prompting and means with which to write it all down.
Next is my 7 year old son with his daily gifts of enthusiasm. I well up with warmth and admiration as I watch him fly across the fields and through the woods on his too-small bike, making go-cart noises and letting fly the occasional "waaahhoooooo" thrilled with the freedom peddaling without training wheels offers.
The other day my 5 1/2 year old daughter handed me a book she had penned just for me.
title: "My Mama"
pg. 1 I love my Mama.
pg. 2 My Mama hogs (hugs) me alot.
pg. 3 She loves me alot.
The End (I keep it in my inside coat pocket in case of emergencies)
My four year old daughter gives the gift of silliness which I desperately need. Watching her dance, wiggle her hind end and get "funkadilly" can turn any mood around.
Hope came from Patience just when I needed it the most. With it I can keep slogging through even the muddiest of days.
Handmade gifts from friends and understanding from my in-laws as I struggle yet another Christmas season reminds me that sometimes just who I am is enough.
And as I pray for friends, one whose young daughter passed away earlier this year, another who fights for her life on a ventilator in an ICU in Texas, and another who is still growing back hair from surgery for brain cancer, I wrestle with the bitter and the sweet, utterly confused as to what to do with it all. So it finds its way here, spilling out on the pages to be read...or not.