GIFTS

December 1, 2023
πππ
Right here.
Two of the very best gifts to ever happen to me.
And as funny as the “puppies” are, I don’t mean Jackie and Theodore. ππ
It’s true. Childcare is demanding and exhausting and needy.
It revealed so much in me that I really hated coming face to face with.
Sad truth.
If I could get a do-over with the knowledge and growth I’ve learned in the last twenty years, well, I’d do a miniscule bit better.
Perhaps parent with a particle more patience. Lean into positive affirmation instead of snapping because my self-control is shot through.
Smile more. Sulk less.
While my improvement would only be incremental, the immensity of the incredible gift these two humans are to me is insurmountable.
They’re smart. They’re funny. They’re kind. They play music. I get ideas and inspiration from them. They make me laugh. They fill our home with creativity and songs and yes, a fair amount of clutter.
One of the most unexpected delightful surprises in my life has been to have these two babies of mine both play musical instruments. There’s a long backstory that we’ll make short by simply saying when they were middle schoolers, I never would have seen it coming. It completely delights me. A best gift ever!
Last evening, curled in my chair in the basement, I could hear the piano chords drifting down the stairway as Renae slipped on the bench and tapped out a Christmas hymn.
Later on, as candlelight flickered in the kitchen, the beat of drumsticks kept time from up above as Tucker played his evening practice.
Today, as December begins, there’s a multitude of gifts we could name.
From ballpoint pens to walking through lights at a botanical gardens. From checkerboards to charcuterie boards. French press coffee to floodlights at night.
But today, I name the gift of unexpected, delightful surprises and music and babies who grow up to be delightful young adult humans.
What gift would you name today that has brought you unexpected delight?
HOPE

December 2, 2023
“a thrill of hope, the weary world rejoices…”
She gave a shrug. Closed the book.
Her eyes felt heavy. Her mind muddled.
Sometimes words meant to encourage or offer hope only left her feeling….more hopeless.
Life was hard.
There was delight, yes. She wasn’t starving, no.
But some days the very act of putting one foot in front of the other was the bravest thing she could manage.
There was always another bill. Something else broken. Hours invested that turned out fruitless.
A constant tension to stay perched on the tightrope circus of this scramble called life.
The doorbell chimed. Startled, she glanced at the clock. It tick-tocked in time to the raindrops glancing against the windowglass.
Her fingers fumbled on the lock. She turned the knob. Behind the person on the porch, she could make out the letters of a local florist on the delivery van. It gleamed white in the mist and gathering dusk.
“Good evening, m’lady. A holiday bouquet for you.” He smiled and offered a leaded pink vase bursting with roses and holly, boxwood and eucalyptus, baby’s breath and frilly ferns.
A surprised gasp bubbled up before she could catch it. Reaching for the heavy vase, she steadied it and thanked the delivery driver profusely.
Carrying it to her coffee table, she placed it in the center and reached for the card tucked tight in the middle.
Calligraphy letters read, “Christmas is hope personified.”
No name. Only someone somewhere who’d seen her. Who’d followed the nudge to send tangible hope.
Burying her nose in the blooms, she felt her soul smile. Sometimes beauty carries hope to places words can not reach.
BELLS

December 3, 2023
πππ
Ring up a song and
Play your best notes,
Let the chimes fling,
Cause the music to float,
May it soar high and
Reach for the sky,
As the melody pulsates
Or hums lullaby.
The bells chime, chime, ring and
Each tall pine tree sings,
The holly hums in
And the firs all begin,
To join in quite low and
To strike up a tone,
While the soft falling snow
Adds chords all its own.
And the little fur bunny,
Leaves tracks fresh and new,
Like the notes on sheet music,
Beckoning you.
The brass and the copper,
The gold and the shine,
The clang of the clapper,
They sound of Divine.
Earth hums a welcome,
Remember again!
This season of beauty,
We’re entering in.
Sound your best carols,
Ring loud the bells!
Joy about Jesus,
The story we tell.

GREEN
December 4, 2024
Green, I believe, is a promise of life.
The green of our wheat fields stretches across the landscape.
It catches my eye as I roll to a stop at the red stop sign.
The cedar tree row in the distance colors the background with a darker green.
Inside my living room window, underneath the glitter and shine of the ornaments, my Christmas tree displays a piney green, an evergreen.
In a wire basket beside the fridge, green pears lay quietly ripening.
The rumple of gift wrap, waiting to get carried back upstairs, sports green among red and silver and gold.
Green boxwoods stand sentinel in front of our porch and the sprays I clipped wave from my coffee table bouquet.
Green is fresh, offers refresh, and hands us hope this Advent season.
Where do you notice the delight of green?

STAR
πβοΈπβοΈπ
December 5, 2023
Star in your own story.
Stay in your own story.
The five word sentences resonate quietly in my brainspace.
Star, not as a movie star or a stage presence. Quite unlike a presenter or power mover and shaker. Don’t show up spouting charisma and shouting of sensation.
Oh, quite the opposite.
Star in steadiness.
Star in resolutenesss.
Staple quiet resilience to this week’s corkboard and lean a listening ear toward the people you share space with daily.
Stay present.
When the contract of platform, of possessions, the sign-up sheet for performance or productivity beckons, the gawdy matinee promises to banish mediocrity and obscurity and offers to usher us in, we can easily say thank you, no thank you, and turn back to our story, the one we star in.
Stardom, the fawning kind, promises much but most often proves artificial.
Stardom, the staying kind, promises anonymity and most often asks for much perseverance.
Star with light.
Star with delight.
Offer warmth and life and light inside the walls where you dwell.
Lavish compassion. Beam a faithful presence that compels kindness near.
Light the way. Sparkle bright. Twinkle joy.
When the fanfare fades, the trumpets are placed in the cases, the applause dies away, the crowds shuffle home and the din diminishes, we may note it but in no way does it detract from the impact of the stories we star in.
Stardom, the admiring kind, will slowly sell our souls on the altar of pomp and circumstance.
I read wise words years ago. “Those who adore, will as quickly abhor.”
Stardom, the serving kind, slowly sustains our souls in the humble behind-the-scenes spirit of formation.
The greatest star to ever star in a story stood over a makeshift cradle.
This star shone.
Brilliantly. Gloriously. With light and presence.
It gave spotlight to humility wrapped in tiny embodied flesh.
The star stood. The star stayed. It shone its light toward, on, for another.
Star in your own story.
Shine on others.
Star in humility.
Stay bright.