We took the pace of grace this Christmas and it made all the difference. Friends gave us a pan of frozen cinnamon rolls weeks ago, and I saved them like gold and popped them in the oven. We showed up at church looking raggedy, we had leftovers for lunch when we got home. We forgot to take a picture, and propped the camera on the couch for an after-church selfie. We forgot to get Emma a gift. Or an ornament. Dear Randi made her one a month ago, so I am GOOD with that.
Much of it has been heavy, but it was never crazy, and the activities were never too much. It was good and sweet and seven kids. I was worried about four-year old melt-down...he was SO excited there was a lot of potential for break down. I was worried about two girlies with so many mixed Christmas trauma and emotions. I was worried everyone would be grudging that we missed so much this season.
But instead it was quiet (you know, it's all relative :) and sweet and good with lots of good moments and the tears only came when we tried to patch together a painful conversation with Grandpa. "That was a really good Christmas" my youngest bonus girlie said at the end, and that tipped my heart with hallelujahs.
Tomorrow brings a very long-prayed for gift. With a court order, a friend's 13 passenger van they are letting us use this season and an Airbnb in Northern Arkansas, we're "getting away". I have either slept at home or in the hospital every single night since our family unexpectedly grew in April, and I am stir crazy, tired, and need a few nights of away. Set apart. Different.
I wouldn't care where we went, but with two girls having never seen mountains, and six kids begging for "anyplace with a hot tub", we're going to Hot Springs, Arkansas for a few days of exploring, hiking, hot tubbing and unfortunately a begged for visit to the alligator zoo.
"Just the nine of you?" a friend teased...and yes, just the nine of us...though now it's time I wish I'd begged a friend or two to come along and help even out the adult ratio.
Either way, there is no raining on this parade...I desperately need a brief reset and to see something different, differently...and the kiddos are so excited for the same thing.
Please pray for my dad. Pray for his wife. Pray for us. It is all feeling very impossible, and he is suffering very much.
On Christmas Day, Ben brought me four letters from the mailbox, and He blesses and humbles me by continuing to use you to show me that He sees me.
When we lost mom, I was bordering on anger at 'unanswered prayer" when He assured me clearly one day in my room that He cried with me, simply because I was crying. His sadness at my sadness...it was enough to dissolve my doubt and trust Him.
He has made it equally clear He sees my suffering father and sees us suffering, too, and the Eyes of the Almighty upon us quiets my storm to the pace of grace.
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