Mama's Christmas miracles

Hey Mama-Just returned from a lovely Christmas with you and the family, once again. This was a hard year, but not without its blessings. Jeff called them "a Christmas miracle"-and he, the unbeliever. One was the lovely way you sang each Christmas carol-each and every verse, even the ones in Latin. You haven't forgotten, have you mom? Another was the way your stiff, bent arms came to life when Christina started playing a Chopin piece-man, I have not seen them that agile in a long time. I asked you if you enjoyed playing Chopin and you said "yes, I did." You played it, mom, every note, in your mind and with your hands-it was magnificent to watch. The last miracle was your demeanor on Christmas day. All lovely in your purple suit, your eyes were so bright and focused as you were watching us play a game. I know you knew who we were, that we loved you, that it was a special day and there was joy in that room. You talked so much about so many things and followed us with your eyes. It was such a gift. Thanking God, today, for all of it. What beauty in the midst of the ashes of your Alzheimers.

Magic Window

This is my 30th year to come home to Colorado for Christmas, save a year or two. Each time I come, it is like entering into a magic window-a machine of sorts where all time stops and we are a family, together once again. We have issues, but they are set aside for meaningful talks, games, food, and laughter. Our bodies age but our minds stay the same, and our love grows each year. The world outside melts away and we are able to encourage one another and bring joy into each others' lives. We are not exclusive-there are lots of other people that enter the window as well at one time or another-and they, too, feel the joy. The joy of family, of connection, of love, hope, cheer. The joy that Jesus brings as He binds us all together in His love that will continue into eternity, for those of us that are with Him. I have just returned from yet another year in the Magic Window, and all it feels like is a huge, gaping hole in my heart.

Things I don't want to give up

It's Christmas time again. This Christmas we moved into a new house, and had 2 sets of wisdom teeth extracted. Not much time for decorating, caroling, partying, baking, or any of those other Christmasy things normally done. I am trying to decide if I miss it or not. Or....if the simplicity is much more in keeping with what Christmas is truly about. I am not ready to give up my Christmas traditions altogether. I feel we have done a good job in keeping them in perspective. However, for this year, I think I will rest in the fact that it is not about all those things at all, only Jesus, His birth, life, death, unchanging character, relentless love and pursuit of us. Even if I am in a prison cell somewhere, I still have all that, which is everything. No trappings needed. I am also thinking about all the special things my girls and I have done over the years. Not ready to give those up either. They are both home now, for a short time, and I want those things again: reading together, talking, praying, doing crafts, baking, singing, ministering, I want to always be doing those things with them: even when they are married and have kids of their own. And I think we will. I think so. It may be more or less some times due to circumstances, but when those times come, I will relish them and instead of mourning what was, I will be thankful for what is and look forward to what might be.

Strange how you think you want something until you get it and then realize it is not all it is cracked up to be. Strange what ungrateful "grass greener" creatures we are. I actually miss my little duplex. Not sure why. Maybe because we at least have memories there and we don't have any here yet. Maybe because it was small, cozy, easy to take care of. Maybe because of what God did in my heart while I was there-moving me away from Austin, giving me new life here, working His contentment in my heart. Maybe that is why it took us so long to find a house: God had a purpose for that time. I really do love our house as I sit here and look out the window at a backyard full of trees and nothing beyond-it is refreshing, but not as refreshing as God changing your perspective. That is what the duplex was all about. Oh, God, please do Your work here as well. Don't let me ever be content just existing. I never want to give up my quest for You.

Man, this sucks. Hitting me in the face tonight how little control I really have. Can't make my kids turn out a certain way or even make them love or trust me. Can't change people and can't control their hearts or the path God has for them. I can only focus on me and God. Me and God. Why do I keep forgetting that and trying to play God instead by manipulating and seeking control? Do I really even want control? No way. Way too much for me. I can't force people to relate to me like I want them to. I can only love them. That is always enough. When will I learn? Not control, but love. Not demanding certain behavior, but love. Not harboring grudges or being envious but love. I wish I knew how to love better. Then I might actually be surprised at what I see I. People. Pleasantly surprised.

Life moving

Dear mom: We are all moved in to our new home. You would love it. I think about you all the time, as I am doing little things just like you used to and as my girls probably will someday. Today I was putting all my jewelry boxes in my underwear drawer remembering that you did that, too, and wondering if someday my girls will or if they even notice I do that. Clearly I noticed at one time that you did. Such a strange feeling, being in this house. The duplex was temporary so I did not really get attached to it. I think being here makes me miss my house in Austin and also makes it clear that I am in a totally different phase in life than I was when I was there: the girls are older-their little knick-knacks don't adorn their shelves like they used to. You are dwindling more each day and there is an emptiness where you should be. I feel a little lost. Today when I talked with you, the silence on the other end of the line was deafening. Are you still there? How much of you? Do you know who I am? So many questions.

Bits and Pieces

Dear Mom: I just got an email from dad reminding me that a little bit of you is going away, it seems every day. He told me that you don't ask where everyone is anymore. I don't know if it is because you are not able to, but still want to know, or if in your state of mind, it just is not important anymore. Makes me so sad. That was always so important to you: to know where your famiy was at all times-you kept in such good touch with us all. Now we will have to carry that on. I dreamed another dream a few nights ago about us all being home again. Aunt Eva was there in a blue dress and she looked me in the eye and said: "carry on the things that you have learned", or something like that. It spoke to me of tradition and how it is important for me to carry those on with my own kids and they with theirs. God is a God of unchanging promises-the same yesterday, today, and forever. I think there are some sweet traditions you have passed on to us from Grams that we need to keep alive. The dream was a good reminder. I don't have "you" anymore but I always have your influence. That is comforting. I love you, mom.