I finally have a moment, sitting in my "cozy spot." This post deserved more time than I have had for the past many days.
This year we're doing Christmas simple.
Just the tree, the lights, and whatever paper ornaments Million and I muster up.
I was finding myself discontented with the "Christmas trappings" we had on hand. You see, we had stored them in the basement of our old house, and they all had kind of a musty smell going on. So every time I walked into Target or other stores, the beautiful Christmas decorations would stir up discontented grumblings in my heart. Michael wisely diagnosed this and determined that this year we would just see what we could do with what we have.
Michael put up the Christmas tree yesterday and lit it with beautiful strands of large white lights. The fragmented glass casts beautiful patterns of lights across our walls.
It reminds me of us. Fragmented people, sent to be light in a darkened world. Each sending a different pattern of light in their own corner.
I don't want to carry my metaphor too far...because unlike our strands of Christmas lights, our family is comprised of broken and ugly things also (part of man's greatest problem: sin). Our Christmas lights generally create a beautiful atmosphere but cannot function if one light on the strand is broken.
Our family could never be a perfect strand of lights. But God is working something beautiful despite our brokenness.
Unless something drastic changes, we will likely be moving to France in an undetermined timeframe.
Obviously this is creating a bit of a stir in how we planned life to be.
We're still in the midst of an international adoption, for crying out loud.
And we just moved into a nice middle-class house (that we had planned on doing some really fun interior remodeling and design projects with) two months ago.
It's safe to say that we don't know a lot at this present moment.
But we do know that we don't want to idolize a safe or comfortable life.
Because we don't serve a safe God.
(“Safe?” said Mr. Beaver; “don’t you hear what Mrs. Beaver tells you? Who said anything about safe? ‘Course he isn’t safe. But he’s good. He’s the King, I tell you.” ~C.S. Lewis)
And now I'm off to make some grilled cheese sandwiches for the boys' lunch. Life does indeed carry on as usual, despite our topsy turvy course.
This year we're doing Christmas simple.
Just the tree, the lights, and whatever paper ornaments Million and I muster up.
I was finding myself discontented with the "Christmas trappings" we had on hand. You see, we had stored them in the basement of our old house, and they all had kind of a musty smell going on. So every time I walked into Target or other stores, the beautiful Christmas decorations would stir up discontented grumblings in my heart. Michael wisely diagnosed this and determined that this year we would just see what we could do with what we have.
Michael put up the Christmas tree yesterday and lit it with beautiful strands of large white lights. The fragmented glass casts beautiful patterns of lights across our walls.
It reminds me of us. Fragmented people, sent to be light in a darkened world. Each sending a different pattern of light in their own corner.
I don't want to carry my metaphor too far...because unlike our strands of Christmas lights, our family is comprised of broken and ugly things also (part of man's greatest problem: sin). Our Christmas lights generally create a beautiful atmosphere but cannot function if one light on the strand is broken.
Our family could never be a perfect strand of lights. But God is working something beautiful despite our brokenness.
Unless something drastic changes, we will likely be moving to France in an undetermined timeframe.
Obviously this is creating a bit of a stir in how we planned life to be.
We're still in the midst of an international adoption, for crying out loud.
And we just moved into a nice middle-class house (that we had planned on doing some really fun interior remodeling and design projects with) two months ago.
It's safe to say that we don't know a lot at this present moment.
But we do know that we don't want to idolize a safe or comfortable life.
Because we don't serve a safe God.
(“Safe?” said Mr. Beaver; “don’t you hear what Mrs. Beaver tells you? Who said anything about safe? ‘Course he isn’t safe. But he’s good. He’s the King, I tell you.” ~C.S. Lewis)
And now I'm off to make some grilled cheese sandwiches for the boys' lunch. Life does indeed carry on as usual, despite our topsy turvy course.
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