I love quiet mornings when I am up and everyone else is sleeping. With two teens in the house (well actually one is 20 now) opening stockings on Mum and Dad's bed doesn't happen quite as early anymore. Mifi woke me up this morning..her whiskers tickling my face... meowing to be fed. So I got up.
I'm sitting in the living room. Lights are sparkling on the tree. The best part though, are my birds. Outside my living room window I am blessed to watch so many birds. My favourite are the chickadees. This morning there is also a cardinal, very bright red in a background of gray (it's a cloudy, sloppy day). Mourning doves grace the ground. Tufted Titmice (or would it be titmouses... I don't know) flit back and forth to the feeder. I even saw a woodpecker on the seed-filled suet hanger.
I have a thing for birds.. I kind of identify with them... feel like I am one of them. Not for any logical reason. When I was little people used to say I "ate like a bird"... in my young mind I associated that with I "am like a bird". This led me to love the Sabbath School song God Sees the Little Sparrow Fall again I was the sparrow and yes, He loves me too.
So on this quiet Christmas morning I leave you with these words... "He loves me too, He loves me too, I know He loves me too. If God so loves the little things, I know He loves me too."
God bless you abundantly more than you could ever ask or imagine. May you rest in the assurance that He loves me too.
Merry Christmas.
I do it every year. And I need to Quit!
I set up my Christmas tree about a week ago. All excited with anticipation. Wanting things to be beautiful and magical for my children (even though they are 16 and 20). Glitter and stars, twinkles and sparkles. I pulled out the lights and strung them up close together so the tree would shine, first white ones, then blue ones. Beautiful, dazzling. Then I found the case of ornaments, pulled them out... and that is when it happened, just like it does every year..... my heart sank.
You see, my case of ornaments does not have in it shiny ribbon, glass balls, elegant bows and delicate decorations. No, it has needlepoint plastic canvas santas and wreaths, misshapen angels and oddball trinkets. Every year I loathe those needlepoints ... I want somethings beautiful, that shines, that takes my breath away every time I walk in the room. That glows with grace and style.
The wishing, the longing, the inadequacy ... it felt like a lump, like a pill ten sizes too big lodged in my throat, slowly, painfully sliding down to my heart. Heavy...thick
But this feeling, this yuck... lasted but a moment (thankfully). As I looked into the case of ornaments I saw something different. I saw a story. I saw our story. Our ornaments tell a tale.... a tale of a life together... of family. Needlepoint ornaments made while we awaited the birth of our first child; twisted wire and bare wood birds with string attached, made for our first Christmas tree; crooked angels made with lacy fabric and pipecleaner halos; baby's first Christmas ornaments; a snowman with "Jared" printed on it. Goofy ornaments of Peanuts characters, Bob and Larry vegietales, a boy riding a stingray. Some are beautiful, gifts from my sister, a delicate glass bell, a blue ornament with gold ribbon commemorating the love between sisters. Some ornaments are cute, Precious Moments children playing the piano, and another with ice skates. Small ornaments of Mary, Joseph and the Baby Jesus, shepherds and an angel. Each one special, each one connected to something or someone important. Important to us... our family, our home.
The lump in my chest was replaced with tears in my eyes. inadequacy became gratitude....
With a full heart... overwhelmed by love and gratitude... I picked up a handful of needlepoint ornaments and with great respect I placed them on the tree.... first....to honour our life.... our story....
O Christmas tree.... O Christmas tree. How LOVELY are your branches
How can I be enough when I'm so scared?
How can I be enough....
Alone
it pushes in
my chest is caving
it's hard to breathe
the tears are streaming.....
The voice looms dark and deep
"never enough, Never Enough, NEVER ENOUGH...."
The echo rings,
circles round and round
it finds a home
deep in my soul.
And here I sit........
But TRUTH be told
a song beyond the voice
a whisper in the wind
"you are mine, I delight..."
So there I rest,
(dark, lonely, scared)
there I rest..........................
