First of Many.

Last year, when the Christmas holiday was all wrapped up and packed away for another year, my boys informed me that "next year" they would really like to have their very own little tree in their bedroom where they could do their own celebrations whenever they wanted.

Well, Mama delivered. I traipsed my little self right through the woods with Dad, and I pruned me a nice little Booker boy tree for them to have for their very own. And yesterday, we decorated and celebrated, and had ourselves our very first Christmas party put on completely by my two largest hoolies.

At approximately 6:00 p.m., a sign was put on the door with strict instructions of no-one entering. There was a fluster and a flurry of activity, and then we were very solemnly escorted into the bedroom and told exactly where to sit.

I gave each boy their own roll of scotch tape and their own roll of wrapping paper, and they have gone to town! Cheap fun, I tell you...

Sweet little gifts were given out to each one of us with soft little Christmas carols playing in the background, and it was all just really fun and cute.

And now this morning, popcorn and cider has been requested for the Christmas party that is to take place this evening.

Heavens.
I just may get all partied out before this is over!

A Thanksgiving List.

: For homemade bread.

: And family thanks shared round the table.

: For newest little family members to love on.

: And for fathers who lead their families well.

: For a successful hunt.

: And for Grammies who take the time.

: For memories...

:...and MESSES made.

: For promises kept.

: And for simple Christmas pleasures.


For these things, I am thankful.

Psalm 34.

Yesterday, as we sat around the table with family - my boys wild and happy, my husband at the head, and with grandparents all around, my heart was full. We were happy, we were healthy, we were all togehter, and I knew that we truly are blessed exceedingly, abundantly above and beyond all that we could ever ask for or imagine.

Yesterday I could see clearly all that I had - all of the gifts that I could never even begin to count that were in my life. And, I was able to see past the multitude of messes, the spats between brothers, and the pumpkin pie that wouldn't set.

Yesterday, I saw how miniscule these mole holes really were.
And I want to remember this.

Because just across town, I knew I had friends who were grieving deeply - who actually had something to howl about. The night previous to this day of thanks, their father and husband went HOME, and although we all know this isn't the end of the story, they are grieving deeply. There was no Thanksgiving dinner at their home yesterday - rather a gaping loss in their family that will forever be relived every Thanksgiving Eve.

And I am aching with them.

And watching them amidst their grief and their loss, I can't help but put myself in their shoes. How would I handle this gaping hole, these next days, weeks, and years when I would have to live life raw? When I would have to find a new norm that forevermore would be anything but normal?

Would I reach for the grace? Would I remember the gifts, count the joys, continue to list my thanks? In the midst of brokenness, would I be able to fully live when my life was so full of hurt and loss?

As these loved ones grasp for ways to live in this new reality of life in the face of such a heavy loss, and as - by God's grace - they find the strength to carry on in this waiting room before the "Forever" really begins...

I am again reminded that this is a fleeting blink of a life. There are no guarantees for tomorrow, and although - so often - I would choose to rewrite the endings very differently, I am glad that I am not the Author of this story. He alone knows how this will all work out, where it all leads, and what it all means.

It is my choice to live each day as though it is my last.
To wildly love as though I am not guaranteed tomorrow. Because I'm not.
And it is my choice to hold with an open hand what isn't mine in the first place.

Might I do it with grace and with dignity.
And might I walk alongside my brothers and my sisters in the way that I would want the same done for me.

"The Lord is near to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit." ~ Psalm 34:18

Thanksliving.

Thanksgiving tomorrow.
My most favorite of Holidays.

Expectation and anticipation is half the joy.

Family together.
Breaking bread.
Thankfulness shared.


"It's the joy of the small that makes life large...all wonder and worship can only grow out of smallness." ~ Ann Voskamp, One Thousand Gifts.


This is how we live in a state of thanks-living when life is mundane and ordinary...anything but "epic."

We find joy in the small.
We choose to see.
We live the thanks.
We forever count.
And we remember.


Ah yes.
A perfectly timed and perfectly placed toddler scribble...

He increases when I decrease.
He is exalted when I am humbled.
And He is honored when I remember. When I live the thankful life.

* * * * *
2139. Little boy kisses - wild and messy.
2140. Snowy days to play and be still.
2141. Brief coffee date at the table with my Kevy.
2142. Thanksgiving anticipation and preparation.
2143. Piled under blankets, still, and watching the snow fall quietly.
2144. Prayers lifted for hurting friends.
2145. So much sorrow in the world - HOPE found in Christ alone.
2146. Vulnerability and authenticity among friends - soul sisters.
2147. Little boys crafting around the kitchen table - doing it their way.
2148. Treats for the neighbors.
2149. A week-end with family - beautiful chaos.
2150. Offering praise - forgetting perfection.

Snow Day.

I know I said no more Christmas posts until after this weekend, but I woke up to snow this morning, and I found this sweet little video while I was sipping my coffee that reminds me SO much of my little boys and all the things they love...

: Running through the forest
: Treasure maps
: Toting their stuffed animals everywhere
: Tree forts
: Music and silly string.

It's so festive and fun, I just can't help myself!

Double-Minded.

"So, the question is:
when the credits roll in your life, are people going to think your story sucked?" ~ Don Miller

* * * * *

I talk so big.
I worry about that far too much.

"Go big or go home" has always been my motto for just about everything.
Because, really, if it's not something of utmost importance or truly applause-worthy amazing-ness, why do it at all, right? What's the point?

But the longer I'm on this crazy journey of faith and life and family and marriage and ministry...the more I realize I know nothing, I'm pretty much a mess, and I don't have a clue.

I think I know what we're supposed to do one day, and I haven't the foggiest the next.
I say "bring it on" in front of my friends, and I hold everything that I have in clenched fists behind closed doors.
I say, "I'll go wherever, Lord," and then when there's an opportunity to be missional with people who don't know Christ, I cry "it'll be too late of a night for the boys."
I shout, "Let's move our family to Africa," but I don't even know my neighbors down the street.
And I say to my husband, "I'll follow you wherever" from one side of my mouth, but from the other I say, "Oh, but that option is out of the question."

I'm pretty sure there's something wrong with this picture.

And, while in my heart, I really do want to live a life of greatness - one that counts for big things for the Kingdom....I'm also pretty sure that I need to check my motives.

I don't think that the blockbuster worthy stories that took place in the Bible were sought after by the heroes and heroines that played in them. I don't think they were clawing for the spotlight, and I don't think they weighed out the potential for awesomeness and accolades before they made their decisions.

Because Mary didn't set out to be Jesus' mother, right?
And Peter was just out fishing with his buddies.
And David was just tending his little flock was sheep.
And Abraham and Moses were just living it out.

They were simply living faithful and following obedient.

I think one of the greatest lies I can believe is that if what I am doing is not Hollywood material or made up of something that's truly big and really great {in my eyes, anyway} than it's maybe not as valuable or as seeped in God-goodness - or as awesome as it should or could be. I make it so complicated, sometimes.

Because what about the mundane day in and day out of being faithful to your family?
What about the single Mama taking care of her three kids all by herself?
Or the Daddy who works a job he hates because of his crazy love for his family?
And what about the times when God seems distant, but we still pursue?
Or when I can't hear Him, but I vow to remain faithful until I do?

I'm pretty sure, in God's eyes, that's pretty epic, too.

* * * * *

Last night, I chose the "easy" and the "that sounds like too much work" over the -- let's go and be a missional community and hang out with some college kids for awhile. Instead of getting over myself, I focused on the late bedtimes that would happen, the load of junk I'd have to bring along with me, and the knowledge of about thirty interrupted conversations that I knew would take place with three kids in tow.

In my mind it wasn't worth it, - it wasn't "epic" enough - so I bowed out, and I stayed home.
With two bummed out little boys, I might add.
And the instant that Kev pulled out of the driveway, I knew I'd made the wrong decision.

Yes, I do talk so big, and so out of both sides of my mouth... and I wonder when I'll ever learn. On the one hand, all I can think about is wanting this one life to count for something big for Jesus - something noble and worthwhile. But on the other, I don't even pull my junk together to go out as a family and go bowling with a bunch of college kids who don't know Christ. Might that have had just as much potential for Kingdom greatness as a trip overseas? I'll never know because I discounted it from the very beginning.

I am, admittedly, a pretty crappy missionary with much to learn.

* * * * *

And back to the question up at the top?
Does it really matter what "the people" think, anyway?
Has it ever mattered?
They won't be the ones watching the credits of my life when all is said and done...

Man looks on the outward appearance...only God sees my heart...

Getting Ready.

I can't hold out any longer.

For us -- it is officially 25 days before our little family Christmas, so the countdown has begun. We always have our own celebration with just the five of us about a week before Christmas - then on the actual Holiday we have a big bash with my whole side of the family, and on New Year's Day another bash with Kev's side. This spreads things out a bit, and it allows us to make our own traditions while still celebrating with both sides of the family. It works for us.

So -- the Christmas music has started playing, the candles are out in every window, we have started our Advent countdown, and the decorations are slowly starting to make their way here and there throughout our home. I have a rule that during the month of December only Christmas music can be played and only Christmas books can be read. The boys all humor me - at least for the first couple of weeks. We'll see how long it goes this year. In my book, it just seems wrong to listen to or read about anything else. The season is so short!

It is going to be a "Very Merry Yardsale Christmas" for us this year. Simple and inexpensive, but oh so very fun and festive. This year, I also told the two big boys that they could have their very own little tree in their bedroom, so the handmade "ornaments" - (if you can call them that) are getting made, and the presents are already starting to be wrapped and stashed away. 'Tis the season for much re-gifting, which makes for playing with toys in the New Year always a little tricky.

I will often hear: "Hey! That's my truck!"
"Not anymore. You gave it to me for Christmas."
"Oh. Well, do you want to trade back?"
Good times.

But for now, they have definitely caught the Christmas spirit, and I love to see them wrapping up toys and treasures that they know the other will love.

* * * * *
Here's a sneak peek at just a couple of the boy's gifts:

I know there are millions of children's Bibles to choose from, but two very dear friends have me convinced that this is one of the best. It is actually going to be one of Ransom's gifts, but it really is perfect for children ages three and older.

What I love about this particular Bible, and what I think makes it stand out from so many others is that that author weaves Jesus and the promise of salvation and the message of His coming into each and every story.

Every story truly does "whisper His name."

"The Jesus Storybook Bible tells the Story beneath all the other stories of the Bible. It takes the whole Bible to tell this Story. And at the center of the Story, there is a baby, the Child upon whom everything would depend. From Noah to Moses to King David, every story whispers His name. Jesus is the missing peice in the puzzle - the peice that makes all the other peices fit together. Jesus is at the center of God's great story of salvation - and He is at the center of our story, too." ~ Sally Lloyd Jones, Author.

So, super cool.


And a gift that my Mom is giving is Paws and Tales on C.D.

These are put out by Chuck Swindoll with Insight for Living, and they are designed for younger audiences than, say - Adventures In Odyssey. Very similar, but there are animals for characters instead of people, and the stories are made for much younger audiences.

These are not cheap, but they are well worth every dime spent. There are three seasons available, and each season comes with twelve c.d.'s with two stories on each c.d. Hours of great listening and great messages for the kids to hear.


We use these almost exclusively for long road trips and rest time at our house. Our two oldest boys rarely nap now, but we always have a quiet time, and these are perfect for that time of day.

Okay. This is my last Christmas post until this week is over.
Thanksgiving still has much to be celebrated.

Until Next Week-End.

:: One large steaming cup of coffee.
:: One cozy Christmas magazine.
:: One large ball of furr on my lap.
:: And one adorable little hoolie in the tub.

~ A cozy week-end wrap up, indeed. ~

HOME.

Our little family just got home last night from a week long staff retreat in New Jersey with our U.S. Center for World Mission. It was so good. Restful, rejeuvenating, stimulating, challenging -- all of that. Much to think through and process. It was really a blessing to be able to go and experience this as an entire family, too - the perfect blending of work and play, really.

But, now we are home.
Our favorite place to be.

And after being away from home for an entire week, the perfect recipe for an early Saturday morning is this:

: While one large Daddy goes out at the crack 'o dawn in search of the tirty pointer,
: Take one Mama and leave her snuggled under a mountain of blankets.
: Add in two large hoolies and a cat or two with arms and legs tangled everywhere.
: Allow for several minutes of giggles & wrestling from the boys; grunts & sighs from the Mama...
: Then add just a wee little light and a cozy story to settle down the willies.
: Stay in position until a somewhat normal hour.
: Move the parade downstairs in front of a cozy fire, coffee, and cartoons.
: Wait for the littlest hoolie to awaken, and then make room for him on the couch.
: Allow for a super cozy day of baking, reading, and a general settling back into HOME.



Ah. Bliss.
It is good to be back.

For The Mamas.

If ever you worshipped...it's NOW.

Love.

Mish Mash.

My "why can't we all just get along" post has been removed for another day. After I repeated the process of "post" and then "edit" about ten times, I decided that it just wasn't happening today. Typically, I write these things pretty "stream of consciousness" like, and if I have to keep going back to something, I feel it maybe just wasn't meant to be. For now, at least.

This is generally my "happy spot," anyway. My choosing to see, and finding the joy, and slowing and being space that helps me to remember to savor. So, that's the theme we shall run with until I get another little burst of spitfire within me that just needs to come busting out....

* * * * *

This week has been a busy week for me - a week where I feel like I "scored" in the friend department. I had three different playdates with three different Mama's in exactly the same stage of life as me. What a blessing, really - to be on this journey and to have great friends to walk it out with you.

And for me - maybe it's because I'm third boy into this whole gig of parenting and I couldn't fake that I have it all together, even if I wanted too...or maybe I'm just becoming more secure in who I am as a woman and a mother...whatever it is -- I'm just so totally and completely done with any form of pretense.

What you see is what you get, Baby, and if you show me some grace, you'll get a boatload in return. These three mama's and I - we are all walking the same journey, and we're all walking it differently. Different styles of parenting, differing ways of disciplining, different mountains we'll each choose to die on, different ways we're going to live it out. Rock on.

The best kinds of friendships are the "loving you just the way you are" and the "I won't judge you and you don't judge me" and "the give and take" anyway. Sharing the joys, commiserating together in the sorrows. Seeking advice and maybe being able to offer a little in return. Being vulnerable with the struggles and being humble with the successes. Deep. Real. Intentional. Vulnerable. That's when it's good. And I am a blessed woman.

* * * * *
Tonight, we are finally getting around to "formally" (and finally) celebrating the October birthdays for the Booker men in this family. That would be Kevy, Sir Rancey Pants, and Uncle Shawn.


Our gift to Ransom is this $2.00 car we scored at a yardsale this summer:

His little cousin has one, and she graciously lets him live in it when he goes over. Now he shall have his own rockin' wheels. I used to hate large plastic children's toys. I used to say my kids would only play with quiet, wooden things. I used to be the world's best mother. And then I had kids. They're good for helping with humility.

* * * * *

Behold, my craft for this week:

I give this wreath, one month before all of the berries are strewn all over my living room floor as a result of epic dart gun battles, wrestling matches, and ball games. I also used to say that my kids would be quiet inside and only be rowdy out of doors. And then I had three boys. There is a reason that most of my decor now costs $0.00 and can easily be replaced by a swift jaunt into the forest.

* * * * *
This is the picture that Jesse drew that "looks JUST like you, Mama! Doesn't it?"

"I drew you with your sticked up hair but not with your glasses, because you look funny when you wear your glasses."

Compliments from a four year old. Priceless.

The Day My House Was Perfect.

The day my house was perfect
Was the day I hurried so.
I pushed, and rushed, and never touched -
My favorite word was, "No."

The day my house was perfect
Was the day their hearts were hurt.
I was simply far more worried
about laundry, floors, and dirt.

Well, haste makes waste, and rushing wounds -
And little hearts bleed raw.
Oh, how I wish this Mother's heart
Had felt what Jesus saw.

For the day my house was perfect
This Mama was a mess.
My focus was the here and now -
This fleeting nothing-ness.

But children love like Jesus -
Forgiving swift and pure.
And today my house is messy -
No perfection here, for sure.

Those tender hearts - these fleeting years,
Will one day pass away.
And I will see my perfect house -
And long for yesterday.

The days gone by of childish dreams -
Of "Mommy, come with me!"
So, today, I choose to fully see -
To slow, and simply "be."

********
To my Loves ~
Mama's sorry for the rushing days - the striving for perfection days.
Thank you for helping me to slow and see...