This week is the week of my church’s Singing Christmas Tree performances. For the past few nights we’ve had technical rehearsals for lighting and sound purposes.

There is a song in the production where one little child comes out on the stage and sings all by herself. Up to this point we hadn’t heard the child sing.

When it was time for that song, my friend’s seven year old daughter walked on stage, where she was lit up by the spotlight. She sang her song, and she sang it sweetly, confidently, and flawlessly.

I was completely overwhelmed. Overwhelmed by her smallness and her innocence. But I was mostly overwhelmed by her confidence.

She stood on that stage and sang without hesitation. And that kind of bravery in such a small person singing about giving her heart to baby Jesus overwhelmed me.

And I thought to myself, “I could never be that brave.”

But I know that we all do things every single day that require courage.

I saw another friend yesterday who has a five week old baby boy. While we were visiting, she mentioned that coming home from the hospital was a really emotional time.

And it made me remember how much courage I had to find deep down inside myself just to get in the car and leave the security of the hospital when our kids were born. And how much more courage it took to say goodbye to my mom, knowing that I’d be taking care of a newborn baby for the first time in my life– all by myself.

When we get out of bed in the morning and know we’ll be facing a teething, cranky toddler or a spirited preschooler, we’re being brave. We’re being responsible, of course. But being responsible for another person in every year is brave. It just is.

We’re brave when we fall asleep at night dreading the to-do list of the next day. But we do it. We move on, we face it, we take care of our responsibilities. We do our best to smile and keep the peace. And maybe even wash our face that night before we go to bed so that we can try to maintain a youthful-looking face, at least.

There is so much courage in the ordinary. Because sometimes the ordinary can wear us down.

But most times, we can look at the ordinary and see how fantastic it is. And that we’re really good at it! We are good wives. We are good mothers. We are good keepers of the home. We are good friends. We are good employees and employers.

Those decisions each day to just move forward and face the scary responsibilities head on, are the ones that make us great at what we do.

 

Isaiah 41:10

So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.

 

*I wrote a guest post today for Courtney over at Lil Light O’ Mine. Courtney has started a great initiative for families to show their children about giving back during the Christmas season. It’s called “Light Em Up.” Courtney has created a list of 100 ways to give back and has also created printable gift tags for us to use. I hope you’ll go over to her blog at Lil Light O’ Mine to read all about how you and your family can participate and read the testimonies from other families who are participating in Light Em Up 2012!

 

Life with a three year old is… spirited. It’s lively and noisy. We do a lot of redirecting and correcting. Sometimes his behavior embarrasses us.

Like when we’re trying to leave church on Sunday morning and he’s wailing about wanting to take home all the gifts under the Angel Tree. We can try to explain to him that those gifts are for needy children, but he’s so loud in that moment that there’s not much we can do except walk away.

Three year old boys can be impulsive and have a serious lack of self control.

But as we drive home and I think about how to explain to him why he couldn’t have those gifts, I realize just how important it is for him to hear what I say.

And how important it is for me to teach him. This three year old is going to become a man.

So I’ll teach him to open doors for ladies.

To give more and never expect to receive.

To listen and be there for his friends.

To dance.

To always respect his father.

To think of his brother as his number one person. The one who’s always there for him.

To be generous.

To be a humble winner and a gracious loser.

To understand just how ugly it sounds to use foul language.

To do the dishes.

To work hard, but put family first.

To know how to separate laundry and what settings to use on the washing machine.

To know that no matter what, my arms are open and my heart will always be home for him.

Today in the car, he was singing “Go Tell it on the Mountain” at the top of his lungs. Not to be loud or obnoxious, but because he was happy and proud. And it was that carefree, agreeable kid that I love so much.

When I got him out of his carseat to come inside, he asked me to hold him. I picked him up and he put his hands on my face and grinned. And he said, “Mommy. I need to tell you something. I’m so proud of you.”

Oh, the ache. He has no idea.

And I just said, “I’m so proud of you, too, buddy.”

*You can also follow along on Facebook and Instagram (@blueeyedbride) for more updates.

 

 

Last week, our Sunday school class went to see the musical production of The Story here in town. Amazing artists like Natalie Grant, Selah, Nichole Nordeman, and Jeremy Camp sang the beautiful songs that tell the stories of people from the Bible.

The purpose of The Story is to show us and remind us why God created people. He wanted fellowship with us. And then we failed and sinned, so He sent Jesus to live with us and walk with us. And then He died so that our sins could be forgiven, and that we could, once again, have that beautiful fellowship with God and spend eternity with Him.

In The Story, we hear the stories of Adam and Eve, Moses, Abraham, Joseph, Daniel, Mary, Paul, The Disciples, and many more.

And while we sat there and listened to the words of these songs and heard the stories of these people, it hit me. These characters from the Bible? Are people. They are normal, flawed, sinful people.

Their stories have been told for thousands of years and still apply to so many of our lives.

Maybe you’re incredibly insecure like Moses. Maybe you’re broken like Job, but still praise His name in the midst of your brokenness.

Or maybe you and your spouse have prayed for a baby for years like Abraham and Sarah, and you’re trying so hard to be faithful. Maybe you have the most innocent faith like Mary and don’t feel significant enough for God to use you in any way, but you know He will.

Maybe you were once hated Christians, but now you’re on fire for the Lord like Paul.

The really amazing thing is that God loves us all so much, and our stories are here to be told. He can use each of us to reach just one person.

In the spirit of giving this Christmas, our family has decided to help play a supporting role in the story of a child. We can’t adopt a child and bring them into our home, but we can sponsor a child.

Through child sponsorship with Compassion International, we’re able to help our sponsored child, Hosea, with the things that he needs and the things that he has prayed for.

Compassion International has a Christmas gift catalog where we can help pick out some of the items that Hosea has mentioned to us in his letters. Things like water, goats, protection from disease, and maybe even a gift for a mom and a new baby. And this year we may choose to sponsor another child like Hosea.

The possibility of playing just a small role in this child’s story is enough reason to do it. And, of course, there are the lasting benefits that this will have on our own children as they learn about Hosea and what it means to give to others in this way.

I hope that you and your family will consider child sponsorship this Christmas, and pray about the supporting role you may play in a child’s life.

*Make sure to follow along on Facebook and Instagram for more updates!

After I started my little exercise of thanking my Heavenly Father for this opportunity (i.e. the current house-less situation we are in) and what he’ll teach me, and after I asked him to help me see it as a gift instead of a trial, I’ve noticed something.

There is a strong sense of calm. There is clarity.

No, we haven’t found a house. But that’s okay. I’m truly not worried about it. Admittedly, I still check Realtor.com twice daily for new listings. But when I don’t see anything, I just put down my phone and go about my business.

Because in these prayers, when I’ve asked to see this situation as a gift and when I’ve asked Jesus to show us the amazing opportunities because of this, He started showing me.

One of my biggest worries has been about Christmas. We’ll be spending the month of December in someone else’s home. We’ll get to decorate in her home and spend Christmas Eve in her home. I was a little sad about this- just not having our home to decorate. I’m so thankful we have a home, the home of a dear family member, where we can spend our favorite holiday.

But I’m also so thankful for the opportunity to show my kids a different side of Christmas.

They’re going to see a slower-paced Christmas.

We won’t be hosting any parties. I won’t be tackling baking projects that stress me out. We won’t over-give to the point of overwhelming them. This realization came because we won’t have the space to accumulate tons of new toys, but I’m thankful to be cutting back.

We’re going to have a simple Christmas. It is going to be about togetherness. About sharing our evenings with Nana, and watching her as she gets to know the boys. And watching the boys as they ask her to read them stories.

Our schedules will be clear. There won’t be as many gifts under the tree. But our hearts will be full, and our loads will be light.

It may not be the way I dream of doing it, but it may be better for us this year. And maybe again next year.

We looked through the Compassion Christmas gift catalog a couple of weeks ago, and I’m looking forward to devoting our Christmas giving to this wonderful organization and the beautiful children it supports.

God’s provided us with this opportunity to enjoy each other and get away from the noise, the excessive gifting that I am prone to, and the opportunity to slow down.