The Tenderness of Christmas

When Jesus's older cousin John the Baptist was born, his father, Zechariah, sang a song of praise.  Because of his initial doubt in the promise of his son's birth, he had been mute throughout his wife's pregnancy, and now at the fulfillment of the promise, his faith brimming, he was ready to sing.

His song proclaims God's mercy.  How fitting for Zechariah to sing of God's mercy in the face of his own recent doubt and its consequences; now his voice is restored and he has received a huge gift, a son. He is ready to sing.

My favorite part of the song is this charge to his new baby:
"And you, my son, will be called a prophet of the Most High;
  for you will go on before the Lord to prepare the way for Him,
to give His people the knowledge of salvation
  through the forgiveness of sins,
because of the tender mercy of our God,
  by which the rising sun will come to us from heaven
to shine on those living in darkness
  and in the shadow of death,
to guide our feet into the path of peace" (Luke 1: 76-79).

I love that John's teaching on salvation through forgiveness of sins--rather than salvation by works--reveals the tender mercy of God.  I love that it's not just mercy, but tender mercy. We are tender with lovers or tender with children.  Tenderness is delicate, the way you handle an exquisite flower so it won't lose its petals, the brushing of fingertips on a cheek, tucking wispy hair behind a child's ear, the soft press of lips to a forehead.  Our God has tenderness towards us.  Tender mercy.

And this tender mercy, this gift of grace, manifests itself in the light of Christmas. We see the lights of houses--beautiful, happy, celebratory.  And we see the delicate flicker of a candle, perhaps more in tune with the tender light Zechariah is proclaiming: "the rising sun will come to us from heaven to shine on those living in darkness and in the shadow of death."  Even though such a light, a rising sun, is huge--like a trumpet blast--I keep thinking of the sweet light that goes with tender mercy--the softness of a candle--when we all look our most beautiful.  The peace and relaxation of candlelight.

I guess that's why this light goes so perfectly with the birth of a baby--a savior, yes! Trumpet blast!--but the tender mercy, the humble manger, the innocence and purity of a baby.  The sun.  And the candle.

The light from heaven--magnanimous to save, yet intimate to individually light our path of peace.

Christ is a Boy's Name

At lunch today I told my daughter that her school friend and her mom would be coming over next week one day during the school holidays. My son and daughter then wanted to guess the mom's name.

"Kri...," I hinted.

"Chris!" They both shouted.

"No."

"Kris Kringle!" my daughter said.

"No."

"Christ!" my son tried.

"No." I burst out laughing.

"Why are you laughing?" he asked earnestly.  "It's a serious name."

"Christ is a boy's name!" my daughter explained.

Mary's Heart

This morning I was reading the Magnificat, Mary's song to the Lord after hearing affirmation that she will give birth to the awaited Messiah.

Just before her song, her cousin Elizabeth says, "'Blessed are you among women, and blessed is the child you will bear! But why am I so favored, that the mother of my Lord should come to me?  As soon as the sound of your greeting reached my ears, the baby in my womb leaped for joy.  Blessed is she who has believed that what the Lord has said to her will be accomplished!'" (Luke 1:42-45).

Elizabeth's proclamation shows what status was now bestowed upon Mary as the mother of the Lord. Mary is called blessed, and Elizabeth even wonders how she deserves to have a visit from this prestigious person.

But none of this has gone to Mary's head. Where she could have walked a little taller, stood a little prouder, she instead keeps her posture humble before the Lord. 

The beginning of her song is:
"My soul glorifies the Lord
and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior,
for He has been mindful
of the humble state of His servant" (Luke 1:46-48).

I broke this down in my prayer journal this morning to make this more personal to me.  After each phrase, I wrote in parentheses my own prayer that echoed Mary's but was personal to me.  For example, "My soul glorifies the Lord" (I want to glorify you, Lord, in all I do.  Help me reflect you.  Help me be intentional in my time and actions).  I had heard to do this with the Psalms to deepen my prayer life, and I thought it would work here, too. It helped me relate more to the hugeness of Mary's humility in the face of her circumstances.

I am so encouraged by Mary's humble heart.  She maintains a focus on the the priorities of God's glory, God's saving grace, God's careful tending to His people, and her own reflection of His greatness.

"From now on all generations will call me blessed, for the Mighty One has done great things for me--holy is His name" (Luke 1:48-49).  She recognizes that her "fame" (for lack of a better word) is not for anything she did; it is all because of what the Mighty One did for her.

And what He did for her He also did for all of us.  He has done great things for us...Holy is His name.

Stealing a Moment to Read

This morning I had planned to get my car inspected after volunteering at the library.  I decided to keep the baby at home with our sitter because he would still be napping after I left the library and I could get these two things checked off at once. 

When I got to Express Lube, the attendant informed me that I did not need my car inspected; I had mixed up the numbers (11 and 10) and thought it expired in November of 2010, but he said the sticker was, in fact, good until October of 2011. Wow! That sort of thing never happens.

So, I had a little extra time on my hands. I did have three quick errands I could run, and those are always a million times faster if I'm by myself. Truly, they took minutes instead of an hour.

But I had been looking forward to finishing my book while I waited for the car to be inspected. I decided I would do the unthinkable. I went to a coffee shop and finished the last few pages of my book. I think I was there only 15 minutes, but the coffee was hot and comforting. It felt like the height of luxury.

But I also felt a little guilty. I felt like I should have gone home to get my baby who was definitely awake by now.  I felt like I was doing something I shouldn't be doing. A little illegal. I'm a stay-at-home mom.  Am I allowed to go get coffee and read a book by myself in the middle of the morning?

I have to say I loved it. I am wondering how I can incorporate this into my routine a little more--sans the guilt.

Technologically Challenged

Almost as soon as I created this blog, originally called "Professional Mothering," I changed the name to "Reflective Mothering."  The original purpose for the blog is explained here: http://reflectivemothering.blogspot.com/2010/04/professional-reflective-mothering.html.

But I couldn't figure out how to change the web address, so even though the title changed, the address was still at http://www.professionalmothering/.......

Well, I finally figured out how to change the address to correspond with the title, but I find out the emails aren't getting out. Ahhh! I am trying to see if I fixed this yet. My mom had some catching up to do on entries last night!

Here's hoping I fixed the problem.

Playing School

Today my four-year-old daughter asked if I would play school with her. This usually consists of my "sitting on the line" and listening and occasionally raising my hand to answer questions.  It's pretty much a one-woman show though.  She really knows her stuff and has great classroom management. 

Today she read a Christmas story. She said she would sing the story, and then she sang part of a song she must be learning at school in music class for the upcoming Christmas show.  It started strong, and then she flipped the page and saw Mary and the angel, so she made up a little tune about Mary and the angel, then she flipped and saw Joseph leading the donkey with Mary, so she sang about "Jesus' daddy was taking Mary camping."  Then she got to the next page and seemed stumped, so she said, "This book has two parts: It's first about the baby Jesus, then it's about Mary had a little lamb" and she broke out into "Mary Had a Little Lamb."

Well, I can definitely see the beauty of letting "Mary Had a Little Lamb" take on a theological meaning. 

Dear Santa

My five-year-old son wrote a letter to Santa yesterday while I was addressing Christmas cards.  It was his idea. It took forever.  He asked me how to spell each word--except "the."

This is what it said:
"Do you get tired Santa Claus?  I hope it is not too much trouble to get the reindeer and elves ready to get the presents loaded on the sled. Write Back. Signed, Oliver."

Then once it was sealed and stamped, he decided it might be nice to attach some fallen pine needles from our tree to decorate the envelope. He kept saying how much he thought Santa would like that.

I told him it was a very thoughtful letter. It really is dear.

Cleaning Up, Kids' Style

I asked the big kids to please clean up the playroom since we were having friends over the next day.

"Sure," I heard.

Then I heard the zip of bags and a lot of planning.

"We're going to California!" my daughter explained. They each had duffle bags and backpacks filled with random items from their rooms that they might need in California: the baby's musical seahorse, a picture of the baby, house shoes, a sweatshirt, stuffed animals, a doll, a rainmaker, books, a Barbie microphone, half of a game of Go Fish, a devotional, coloring books, a collection of Littlest Pet Shop.

Back and forth down the hall, carrying their luggage, shouting orders at each other, chirping about who they were visiting, plans getting grander and grander.

Meanwhile, I was cooking dinner and feeding the baby in the kitchen, so I was on the periphery of this expedition.

When I checked in, I saw this:

Well, so much for cleaning up. When is my trip to California?

Garden Poetry

The kids and I went to a friend's house last Wednesday afternoon. This friend is a chef, and she and her husband have a wonderful garden. 

Part of the yard is a stretch of kid-friendly lawn with swingset, push toys, balls, and trampoline dotting the landscape.  Part of the yard is a beautiful gated pool with rock work surrounding it. Then, tucked away behind a gate is a secret vegetable garden.

The kids were allowed to pluck a Meyer Lemon from the tree to bring home; it smelled so much more lemony than at the grocery store.  They were asked to guess the fruit on the fig tree (ah, my uncultured babes did not know).  They eyed the peppers, the chard, the basil, the tomatoes (and in the summer the garden goes gangbusters; this is December, after all.).

Once when we ate a simple pizza dinner over there, my friend made the salad by walking out to the garden and gathering the goodies, whipping up some dressing once inside, and assembling a mouthwatering dish.

This all sounds so poetic to me, so connected to the earth and the creator.  It sounds like such a beautifully simple and honest way to live, to plant a garden and tend to a garden and eat from the garden. 

It reminds me of the inspiring Barbara Kingsolver book I read last summer, Animal, Vegetable, Miracle (which I highly recommend).  Kingsolver, whose fiction I hugely admire, spent a year living off of only what they grew or found from local farmers.  She and her husband and kids were already very handy in the garden before they began this experiment, but it was still a daring adventure which they chronicled beautifully.

I had been a reluctant (shy?) and confused organic food person before reading that book. I felt overwhelmed by the whole topic, but she brought it to a level that not only made sense scientifically, but completely fed my romantic notions of gardens and food.

I have talked about having an herb garden ever since I had a home, but I still haven't done it. I still aspire to the green thumb that my husband has. But I have taken more interest in digging in the dirt. I assembled my first collection of potted plants early fall, and it's time to change it.  And we had a tomato plant last summer that we actually ate from a time or two. It's a start. Thank God for those who inspire.

"Then God said, 'Let the land produce vegetation: seed-bearing plants and trees on the land that bear fruit with seed in it, according to the various kinds.'  And it was so. ... And God saw that it was good" (Genesis 1: 11-12).

Balance Beam

I remember as a child learning to walk on a balance beam, arms out, teetering back and forth until steady enough for a step.  One step forward. Steady. Another step.  Keep the arms out.  It seemed like a long stretch on that beam (even if it was only a few inches off the ground).

As my kids have learned to balance themselves, they love to hop up on any curb or short wall and walk along it as far as they can.  Arms out like airplane flaps, dipping to the right, dipping to the left.  Such concentration.  And such pride in their ability to balance.

Being a mom is pretty much a balancing act. This morning, in thinking of what I like about my life today and what I'm considering adding to my schedule, I am thinking of balance.

What do I use to ensure I stay balanced? What are my "outstretched arms" that keep me on the path, even as I teeter and come close to falling?

"Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding;
in all your ways acknowledge Him, and He will make your paths straight" (Proverbs 3:5-6).

"Let your eyes look straight ahead, fix your gaze directly before you.
Make level paths for your feet and take only ways that are firm.
Do not swerve to the right or the left" (Proverbs 4:25-27a).

Baby Proof

We have finally stepped up the babyproofing around our house to make it a little less stressful with our toddling one-year-old. The lovely white clips now adorn our under-sink cabinets, and we've been diligent about keeping potty lids down. Sadly, the little guy has recently learned to lift the lids.  What is it about toilet water that's as intriguing as the ocean? Splash, splash.  And what is it about a plunger that's so tantalizing?  The bigs kids and I are contemplating giving the baby a fresh new plunger for Christmas.

When I go to friends' houses, however, I have to follow the baby around. Most of my friends do not have one-year-olds, and have long since abandoned babyproofing.  Whereas my kids will yell-- "Mom! He has something little in his mouth! He could choke!"--my friends' kids think nothing of leaving legos or a coin collection at close range. 

Yesterday was a stellar example. We had barely arrived at my friend's house, and the baby was intrigued with a tennis ball in the living room.  Between her four kids, my three, and four different neighborhood kids that arrived while I was there, we had a lot of children to keep track of.  Still, within minutes of arriving, we heard a shrill beeping noise piercing our ears.

"Where's George?" I said. My eyes were peeled and I raced back into the living room. No baby.

"It's a smoke alarm!" one child claimed.

"Where's George?"

We all started racing around the hallway, living room, dining room, family room, kitchen--all the while trying not to go crazy from the shrill beeeeeeep--until my friend says, "Found him.  Here he is."  We looked over, and crouched in the corner of the dining room, his eyes wide, was the baby with his finger firmly pressing the test button on the carbon monoxide detector. He was the culprit. And looked pretty stunned about it.

Fast forward about thirty minutes as the troops started getting hungry.  He must have followed the big kids as they got some oatmeal squares out of the pantry.  We knew they were sharing a little snack, and the baby was toddling back and forth between us and them.  Within a minute, we walked by and nearly tripped on that little guy, sitting on the dining room floor in the middle of a huge pile of Fritos.  He had helped himself to the pantry and grabbed whatever he could from the bottom shelf.  Those resourceful third children.

They keep us on our toes; don't they?