Waiting Again?

Waiting can seem endless.

Like life is flying by for everyone.

But me.

When will my turn come?

Will things change for the better?

Ever been there?

If you’re like me, you've experienced the waiting season many times.

Waiting can be so hard. But hope keeps us watching for something good.

Maybe the house will sell this week.

I might get that job I applied for.

My acceptance letter could come soon.

Tomorrow, I'll feel better.

Do you count the days until you're going on a trip or to a special event?

I do. But there are times when we don't know how long it will take for something we're waiting for to happen.

I waited a whole year for my house to sell. We'd spent several months remodeling, and then we moved out at the end of last summer, thinking it would sell right away. But after six weeks and the place didn't sell, we moved back in, feeling a little defeated. Had we made the wrong choice in trying to sell? Did we jump the gun on God's plan for us? We didn't know the answers. So we spent the winter and spring and summer in our country home--that was quite nice since it was freshly painted and beautiful--allowing it to be shown in all the seasons, but not knowing if it would actually sell. It required special financing, so the right person had to come along. Would that happen?

We kept praying. And waiting. And I wrote a book. :)

Finally, toward the end of this summer, the house sold. Hallelujah! Our waiting time was over. Then we had a lot to accomplish to get everything out of the house again and to do the final cleaning. It was comical because the next weeks went by really fast. Time is like that. When we're hyper-focused on what's not happening and we're stuck in the waiting season, everything seems to take a long time. Then zoom. We're on the fast track, and we can't believe how quickly the days go by.

But, oh, those waiting times ...

Remember when you were a kid waiting for summer break? Then, later, did you tire of summer and get super excited for school to start? Then, did you turn around and count the days until Christmas?

Or have you waited for a highly-anticipated event, like a wedding or for a baby to be born? Those months can seem like forever.

Or, perhaps, you're in a waiting season now.

Maybe you're waiting for someone to return from military service.

Or for the grandchildren to visit.

Or to take a long-awaited trip.
Or you're waiting for a job.

Or for a healing or a personal need to be met.

Life has many waiting seasons.

Does this particular season seem to be taking forever?
If so, I totally empathize with you.

And while I admit to being a less-than-successful waiter at times, here are a few practical ideas that have helped me during my seasons of waiting. 

Try to stay busy. Start a project or hobby. Paint a picture (or the house). Do puzzles. Write a book. Time really does seem to go by faster when you're busy.

Visit with friends. Don't become a hermit, which is my tendency. Get out and have coffee and a nice chat with a friend as often as possible. Sharing your struggles with someone who understands helps. As does hearing about someone else's life, which can make our own problems, or waiting time, not seem quite as bad.

Laugh. (Snicker, giggle, guffaw.) Become childlike. Sometimes I take myself and what's happening around me way too seriously. Laughter is medicinal. Tell stories and laugh. Watch a funny movie. Really belly laugh. Life is beautiful. And honestly, even though it may not seem like it right now, life is passing by fast. Let's look for ways to enjoy it.

Read. Take an adventure through reading. A waiting season is a great time to visit the library and get a stack of books, or download books on your kindle, and experience life in someone else's shoes.

Maybe you've always been interested in treasure hunting. Now is the perfect time to read books on that topic. Maybe you've wanted to learn knitting. Grab a how-to book--and a skein of yarn and needles. No better time to learn than now!

Walk. Get a step counting app and see the world around you by walking and keeping track of your steps. Have a competitive friend or spouse? Make a race of it to see who can do the most steps in a week or month. Winner buys dinner or coffee?

Pray. Hope. Believe good is on the way. Because surely it is. Also, pray for others. Being concerned about others helps us get our mind off of our woes.


I confess that I've struggled with my waiting times. Why doesn't God answer sooner? Did I sin and that's keeping Him from resolving my dilemma? Did I miss the boat? Depression and low self-esteem can sneak in and rob my joy way too easily.

But it seems to me that waiting is a kind of testing ground of personal struggle that builds something good and strong in us. Like this verse says: "We know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope." (Rom 5:3-4) Waiting can be a form of suffering, that builds strength, which builds character, and we can learn from that process, if only we are willing.

A friend of ours would say, "What is God trying to say to you in this situation?" 

Which makes me sit back and ponder, is God teaching me something through my waiting? Do I need more character building? Um, probably so. But it can be such a painful process.

Lastly, looking for the good in a situation, and being thankful, can be a powerful stepping stone to hope. Jason and I realized we were extremely thankful for a warm house during the winter. We got the chance to say goodbye to a home that had been the last place we lived in with our four kids. It seemed we needed the sentimental time of letting go. God knows our hearts and what we need, sometimes even when we don't realize it ourselves.

If you are in a waiting time right now, I pray that you find peace and joy right in the middle of the struggle. And that you will see how hope can overcome discouragement--even in a waiting season.

And don't forget, something good may be just around the corner.

Launch Day!

Announcing . . . Summer's Dream (Book 3 in the 2nd Chance Series). I'm excited to share what I've been working on for the last nine months. In the spring, I questioned whether I could write a book and launch it within nine months of another book's release. I know some writers come out with new books every few months. But it was two years between Books 1 and 2 in this series. So, it was an experimental journey for me. I put myself on a schedule that included the book being in the hands of a first reader, a pro-editor, beta readers, and my husband--all at different times, other than the beta readers. And I'm happy to say, it worked! Hallelujah!

Here's a little bit about Summer's Dream:

Summer dreamed of becoming an artist and painting natural beauty on canvas. But all that changed when she married Joshua Hart, a man carrying a powerful dream of his own. With a temper to match his wild-boy good looks, he stormed out of their marriage to pursue a life as a musician, leaving her alone and, unbeknown to him, pregnant.

Five years later, Summer is busy raising her daughter and managing the family's camp and retreat center in the woods of Eastern Washington. With her artistic dreams all but forgotten, her world turns upside down the day Josh shows up with an offer to help her get the camp ready--and plans for divorce.

Only Josh didn't expect to find a blue-eyed darling who calls him "Daddy" living at Hart's Camp. Not to mention his surprise over the attraction he still feels for Summer Day. Can he make amends for the past? Or is it too late?

My heart is for reconciliation and healing in marriage, and God has inspired me to write about that in books. He is so beautiful to heal our hearts and change us, isn't He? Sometimes the very situation we would consider beyond help, He touches and transforms.

Joy Calkins said this in her endorsement for Summer's Dream:

"As a pastor's wife, I've seen the grace of God work miracles in the lives of many marriages, including my own. Many, if not most of us need 2nd chances, a do over, a mulligan as my husband calls it in golf terms."

Have you ever needed a 2nd chance? A do over? I sure have.
 Can God bring life to a dead marriage?

Read what happens to Josh and Summer Day Hart in 

Summer's Dream

99 cents for a limited time!!

Miracle Wedding Story

I met Jason at church when I was fifteen. I loved his smile and his beautiful green eyes. The first time he sat next to me on the pew was one of the best days of my life. We started dating, which really meant going to church—thanks to four services a week—or sitting around my house, talking.

The problem with our relationship was that I was young. I got my first kiss on my sixteenth birthday. And five-and-a-half months later, Jason asked me to marry him—he was a whopping nineteen. There wasn't any fanfare. No billboard proposal, diamond ring, or audience. Just two people who felt the rest of their lives would be better with each other.

The biggest challenge ahead of us was facing my mom. I was sixteen, the only girl in the family. And though she liked Jason and said we could eventually marry, we had to wait since I was so young—unless God showed her differently.

Hallelujah for the “unless.” Being young and full of believing in the impossible, we knew God could surely do that exact thing.

The Lord often revealed things to my mom in dreams—words of wisdom, a baby's gender before it was born, etc. Jason, on the other hand, would have an impression, where something came to his mind strongly, and he would recognize that as God speaking to him.

One day, he told me, “God showed me the date we're supposed to get married.”

Hurray! I was so excited. And I knew if the Lord could show him the date, surely He would show my mom too.

Jason wrote the information on a piece of paper and put it in a sealed envelope, and we waited for God to finish the work.

One morning a couple of weeks later, my mom told me she'd had a dream. In her night thoughts, she was decorating a wedding cake and had written a date on the top. She didn't tell me what it was, but she wrote the month and day on a piece of paper and put it in an envelope.

And a “reveal” was planned.

It was a little scary, but mostly exciting, as I waited to see how it would all turn out. Would the dates match? If they were different, which one would be the right one? (Shame on me for doubting, huh?) With smiles and eager anticipation, my mom and Jason opened the other person's envelope. Alas, each paper read “August 9^th.”

We had our miracle!

We did a bunch of whooping and hugging and praising God. My dream of getting married right away was coming true.

A month later, when August 9^th rolled around, I was a young bride, barely seventeen. We were just two kids facing a big world, but we were choosing to spend our lives with each other, for better or for worse. And that's what we've done.

Here's a song Jason wrote, and we sang at our wedding:

Jesus, we know that we need You.

Jesus, we know You are King.

Go with us throughout life's journey,

And make us a vessel for Thee.

And that could be the end of our happily-ever-after story about the date. But to add to the fun, sixteen years later, on August 9^th, our youngest son was born, which was a really sweet anniversary gift. And then, thirty-nine years from our wedding day, our oldest son chose to marry on that date. How cool is that? We have an ongoing family joke that all weddings and special events should happen then, also.

In a couple of days, Jason and I will be celebrating our 40^th anniversary. Some thought we'd never make it—and didn't mind telling us so—especially since I was so young. But God had a good plan for our lives. Four days ago, while hiking on our mountain, I asked Jason to marry me, and he said “yes.” Yay!! We would do it all over again, if given the chance.

I'm so pleased God gave us our own wedding miracle, our promise of His love and care for us through the years. And, hey, I got to marry the tall boy with the beautiful green eyes. Here's to forty more!

Radical or Tentative?

I woke up this morning with the word “tentative” on my mind.

Tentative is the opposite of radical. It’s safety and holding back. It’s a lifestyle that says it’s better to be careful, cautious, and wary. Who wants to be reckless? Or fanatical? We’ve been taught those extremes are definite no-nos.

A mom keeps her kids tentative by constantly reminding them of their limits and things they should never do. Not to say basic safety isn’t needed, that’s her job. But if she stops them from climbing trees or visiting the neighbor kids, if she keeps them in their own yard, drawing a mark they can’t cross, they won’t learn to explore and see the people on the other side. They learn to live cautiously.

A pastor keeps his flock tentative by slipping warnings of spiritual extremes into sermons. I wish I’d kept track of all the times I’ve heard the preacher mention “rolling on the floor” as a terrible thing. “You don’t want to be like those who . . .” or “Back in the day they’d . . .” Honestly? I’d rather see someone roll on the floor—whatever that is—than feeling stifled and knowing the Holy Spirit is quenched in a church. We’re so worried about what something might look like. Being weird. What will so and so think if I lift my hands or shout out a praise or dance? Whew, that’s too radical. So we sit tentatively. Cautious. One eye roaming the place for anyone who might be looking back.

I wonder if I was born tentative. I know I was raised that way, lived it as an adult, and most assuredly, passed it on. Maybe being this way is really about control. If I don’t go full gun, I can always turn back and no one will notice. If I put myself out there in faith, abilities, service, fulfilling dreams, following a calling, loving, being pure, worshiping, I may embarrass my kids (yes, this is true) or the person sitting next to me. But if I hold back, not really being myself or all I can be or all God called me to be, OR if it doesn’t work out, I can easily slip back into the familiar corner of complacency, unnoticed, and comfort myself that “it wasn’t meant to be.”

Baaaaaaaaa!

What would happen if all of us tentative Christians said “enough!”? What if we simply stood up and declared “I won’t be tentative one more day!”? A simple decision. Yet, perhaps, terrifying.

What horrible atrocities have been committed in our world—wars, genocide, abortion, hate crimes, racism, abuse, negligence, and stifling of faith—because of people sitting back and doing a big fat nothing? “Oh, it’s not my problem.” Ha! If we live in this world, you can bet it’s our problem. 

What would your life or mine be like today if for the last ten or twenty years we’d been running straight for God with arms open wide, loving people fanatically, giving in extreme generosity, following the dreams of our hearts, and worshiping in complete freedom?

Wow, mine would look different. Oh, sure, I’ve had my times of boldness and pressing in, raising the flag of being sold out for God and His kingdom. Then something would happen—life, hurts, disappointments, grief—and I’d find myself tentative again, even about faith. I was the girl who carried a big Bible on the stack of books in high school. I boldly became a pastor’s wife at nineteen, confident we could face anything, even though I knew absolutely nothing about ministry. We worked in a mission church, started a Christian school, lived on little, and believed God for everything, including food. I faced life and got beaten down and got back up again. I’ve known what it is to dance and shout and experience amazing places in God. And then there’s the other side I’ve known all too well, my default: being tentative.

Isn’t it something how life or fears or doubt can lure us back into our little corner?

Well, today, I’m thinking about exchanging tentative for radical. Caution for freedom. For each of us, that might look different. To some it might be about meeting your neighbors and sharing the gospel. To someone else, preaching a sermon, starting a small group in your house, going on a mission trip, helping in a food bank, adopting a child, or even writing that book that’s been on your heart for years.

This morning I woke up pondering how I didn’t want to worship tentatively anymore. I don’t want a cautious faith that holds me back. I want to go boldly after God, confident in the things promised in His Word and in my heart. What if we only had one day to live? How would you spend it? How would I? I doubt whatever it is would be passive. We’d be doing something very alive and ambitious and on purpose.

Let’s live like that all the days we have left.

How about you?

I’m in.

Enlarge the place of your tent, stretch your tent curtains wide, do not hold back; Isaiah 54:2

Let us hold unswervingly to the hope we profess, for he who promised is faithful. Hebrews 10:23

Where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom. 2 Corinthians 3:17

The Awful Draft

As a writer, I love to work at my own pace and style. No deadlines. Just living in the story. Loving creativity. But that doesn’t work so well for making me finish what I’ve started. Or reaching a deadline.

If a group of writers compared notes over coffee, each one would have their own writing style. I bet we’d see . . .

The always-outline girl.
The freestyle-never-outline writer.
The stay-up-late-and-crash-through-the-draft guy.
The sit-down-when-inspiration-hits and type-as-many-words-as-possible lifer.
The I-can-write-anywhere-anytime-just-do-it gal.
The wish-I-can-wish-I-might procrastinator guy.
And so many more.

Within each of our styles and personalities, our writing changes and grows. Maybe in the beginning we were the optimist, hoping our first layer of words would come out perfect. (Oh, how I wish mine would!) But then we change and become determined to write more or better or faster, therefore we force ourselves into a different technique.

Delivering words can come with moments of dazzling inspiration. Or nothing emotionally charges us, and we have to push and prod and squeeze creativity out of our mind and heart. The task can be as grueling as digging a ditch or as freeing as leaping off the edge of the diving board into cool, invigorating water.

My writing style is typically circular with lots of backtracking. I write a few pages, then edit, change things, and eventually, move forward. Repeat. A day or two might pass without me writing, therefore when I start up, I have to go to the beginning again. It’s a constant circular progress, moving forward in meager portions.

It’s me. It’s what I like to do. But . . .

At that rate, it takes a looooooong time to write a three-hundred-page rough draft. Sometimes, years. Especially, considering how fond I am of waiting for inspiration. However, this year, I'm trying something different. I decided if I want to take writing seriously, and I do, I had to stop waiting for the creative bug and realize I’m a writer who can write. Therefore, I need to move forward every day.

Get the first draft done! has become my motto. Thus my title—The Awful Draft—because it is pretty terrible.

However, I’ve broken the circular pattern. I must confess to using the old technique in the first thirty pages of my WIP. But since breaking through the need to deepen the story first, I’ve made myself write forward, only reading the previous two pages each day. My goal is to throw down the first draft and finish it before a personal deadline.

And—hallelujah—it’s working.

There are days I’ve typed out twenty pages—that’s really humming for me—and days when I'm happy with three. I still come up with times of zero inspiration, when I don’t feel like writing. Nevertheless, I can always write something. And so can you! Who's going to see that first draft, anyway?

The need to start editing now is powerful. It grips me, and I almost surrender. But I refuse to yield. So far, I’ve reached two-hundred pages much faster than I ever would have writing the old way. I’m trusting that the ragged edges of my initial attempt will transform into beauty along the way. And in the end, hopefully a quicker end, I’ll finish the race and have a meaningful story to share.

Here’s to many more awful first drafts!!

Follow Your Heart

If God has put something in your heart to do, I want to encourage you to stop putting it off and just do it. Too often, I ponder the thoughts of my heart way too long without taking action. I allow self-doubt or fear or worries to rob the good thing I would have done if only I’d listened and leaped forward.

I wish I were bolder. Braver. More willing to take risks. Or to believe in myself. Or in God’s ability to help me.

But there are times when something holds me back. Do you ever feel that reluctance to give yourself the freedom to follow your heart?

When we try something new, our first attempts can be pretty sketchy. Sometimes, awful. Like rough drafts. That’s why they’re called “rough” drafts, right? Thinking about my lousy first attempts at writing could keep me from trying again. What if fear crippled me and I stopped writing altogether?

Even though I believe we should do the thing we were made to do, to follow God’s nudging, there are times when I don’t listen. I overlook, or ignore, the longings I feel.

Do you ever feel that way?

Sometimes we have to give ourselves a gentle kick. To be open to failing, if need be. If we don’t, we’ll never know what we could have accomplished with God’s grace and goodness fueling us.

“I might fall on my face.”

It’s true. We might.

Starting something new can be scary. However, one step leads us to draw the next foot forward. Writing the first sentence makes the second one easier. Speaking the first line eases the way for all the others to be said confidently. But that first step, that newborn effort, however big or small, can be the most daunting.

We have to kick fear out of the picture. Be willing to take the plunge. Dream big. Follow through. I challenge you, and me, to take that first step, and see what happens.

Panic can cripple creativity. We might feel momentarily frozen. Thus, stage fright.

But, please know, you can do it. I can do it. We can take that fumbling step forward, and the next step will be easier.

If you feel a call to do a thing, and it’s pounding a wild drumbeat in your heart, telling you over and over to try, to take that step, then squash fear and doubt. Sweep it out the door, and welcome the chance to follow a dream.

If we should falter, let’s not wallow in misery and allow one misstep to keep us from trying again.

Instead, be bold.

Take a step.

Do what’s in your heart.

Faith is all or nothing.

Start that new thing. Write a book. Paint a picture. Move to a new place. Look for a different job. Teach a Sunday school class. Start a youth group. Preach. Become a missionary.

Follow your dream. Which really means follow your heart, believing that God, who loves you so much, is leading you.

Just do it. And be glad you did. 

CrossReads Book Blast with Paula Rose Michelson

No Other Choice: The Naomi Chronicles, Book One 

By Paula Rose Michelson

About the Book:

Naomi will be sent back! She left her family and all she held dear, traveled half way around the word while accompanying a blind, old grandmother because they promised to help her enter America and find her uncle. Instead they handed her over to immigration. What she does now, she does because there is no other choice! This is Naomi’s journey from adolescence to womanhood, from frightened isolation and captivity to the noble status of heiress. Trapped in a life where all who know her think her a saint, saddled with a mission and responsibility many would shirk from placed upon her shoulders, Naomi agrees to marry because that seems to be the easiest way to sidestep more issues. As timely as the immigration debate of today is, author, William Struse’s endorsement says, “Duty, sacrifice, and faith are carried in the arms of love by a courageous young woman, who rises above her own flaws to help others.”

LINK to KINDLE

Paula Rose Michelson As a Messianic Jew, Paula Rose Michelson wanted to write about life, love, choices, and forgiveness. She researched what befell the Jews baptized into the Catholic faith to survive the Inquisition, and when she began to write The Naomi Chronicles, Naomi told her the story you are about to read. Because of her extensive background in recovery as a Chemical Dependency - Lifestyle Disorder Councilor, her work with The Rubicon Center, and as the founded LAMB Ministries in 1988, where she continues to mentor women suffering from trauma and abuse the way God mentored her, the author knows that though her heroine’s story is unique, Naomi’s issues of fear and hiding are universal, for they are seen in anyone who is masking their real pain. Paula Rose Michelson is the wife of Lutheran Pastor and Chosen People Field Missionary, Ron Michelson. The mother of two married daughters, and grandmother of seven grandchildren, when not involved in ministry, writing, speaking, or teaching the effective use of scripture, you will find Paula researching her next book or meeting with friends.  

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I Failed

I confess . . . I failed to reach my goals for the past year.

Maybe they were too big and unreachable. Although, I really hate to say that. I believe in setting high standards for myself, and sometimes others. For better or for worse, we live up (or down) to expectations. On January 1, 2014, I wanted to try something I'd never done before, so I set a big goal. I was really excited about it too. I decided in 2014 I would write and publish three books—April's Storm, Stage Woes, and a book on faith.

But . . . (gulp) . . . I failed.

I honestly did work hard and faithfully on April’s Storm, but it took most of the year. It will be released later in January, but, still, none of those three things I'd hoped for happened in 2014.

So, on this shining, brand new day in 2015, I'm wondering, should I set any goals for the year? What if I fail again? Maybe if I hope for the best and see where things lead me, I'll be okay. Perhaps, I'll even be surprised. Things might work out better than in years past. I could see some success. Maybe. If.

That reminds me of how I feel about cleaning my house. It's one of my least favorite things to do. Especially the bathrooms. If I don't have a plan in advance to clean house, or do a certain task, I can pretty much guarantee it won't get done.

I used to be way more motivated and driven. Now that we live in the country and don't have kids in the house, things easily fall by the wayside. “I've got to give the dogs a bath,” can be said many days in a row. Something smells “strange” in the fridge, but it goes untended for a week. Days morph together, and suddenly, it's Sunday again, and I don't know how that happened.

I definitely need a list. A goal. A plan. But what if I don't succeed?

I've heard some scoff at New Year's resolutions. “I'm going to lose ten pounds.” “I'm going to quit ______________.” “I'm going to write a book.” Those doubters don't believe people will follow through with their commitments. And, maybe they won't. Maybe I won't. But the thing is, what will we (I) accomplish without a goal? For me, New Year's Day 2016 would show up, and I wouldn't have finished much of anything.

Is there something you'd really like to see happen this year? A trip to Europe? Writing a book? Moving to a different house? Going on a mission trip? Living by a budget? Why not make a list of goals to work toward? Sure, you can be afraid that you won't stick to your plan. Or, you can look yourself—and your list—in the eye each day and say “I can do it. With God's help I can do anything.”

Even though I failed at my goals last year, I've decided to make another list today—January 1, 2015. The thing I'm going to do differently, that I didn't do in 2014, is post my goals in a prominent place where I can see them every day. I'm going to recite that verse “I can do everything through him who gives me strength” over them. (Philippians 4:13) And, because I'm following the Lord, I'll add “Your will be done,” because I want His will to be done in all areas of my life.

Sometimes you just have to take a leap of faith.

And even in the areas where I think I failed, did I learn something through the process? If so, then I probably didn't fail as much as I thought I did. And that is good news.

Got a list?

  

Through the Eyes of a Child

A Christmas tune plays on the radio and the words draw me back to another time and place. I can almost taste Mom’s sugar cookies, with crushed peppermint candy sprinkled over the top, fresh from the oven. I can still see the blue color-coordinated decorations and lights twinkling on  my aunt’s white tree—I’m sure that’s why blue gives me so much pleasure to this day. And I can recall the joy of trying to guess what might be in a certain package.

For me it happens with “Silent Night” and blue lights and snow. Maybe everyone has a special place they travel back to when the fragrances are just right, when the sounds pull you in, or maybe, all it takes is seeing a child grinning from ear to ear, wishing for Christmas Eve to hurry up and get here, and suddenly, you remember . . .

And for a few moments you get caught away.

Can you see yourself as a child? For those of us with children, it’s easy to remember the times when they were little. But what about you? What makes you reminisce to a time in your youth when life was simple and fun and filled with anticipation over Christmas? When the joy of looking forward to Christmas morning—or Eve—consumed you. Not just about the gifts, although there was that. But, also, to hearing the Christmas story. To reliving the journey of the wisemen and angelic visitation to the shepherds. To the awe of the moment when the lights on the tree were first turned on in the dark. To lying on the floor and staring up at the glowing colors and tree decorations as if you’d never seen them before. Tasting candies you were only allowed to have at Christmastime. Hearing laughter in the house. Family. Presents. Candles. Twinkling stars. Watching. Waiting.

Close your eyes for a moment. Don’t think too hard. Just relax and smell the evergreen scents, hear the soft Christmas melodies playing, the jingling of a bell, packages being shaken and felt. Does a little anticipation race up your spine? When you were a kid, did you lay awake in bed trying to go to sleep on Christmas Eve, but you couldn’t? Did you think . . . Christmas is tomorrow? It’s coming. Somehow, I’ve got to go to sleep so I can wake up and then it will be . . .

!!!!!

Remember? Oh, let yourself feel. Think of the happiness. The laughter. Did you count down the twelve days before Christmas? Maybe, the twelve days before that? Then, before you knew it, tomorrow—the one perfect day of the year when dreams might come true—was almost here. Did you get so happy you felt like dancing? Or maybe you were wishing for a hula hoop to twirl in, and those thoughts were prancing in your mind. Or a doll. Or a new book. Did you hope for a Tonka truck or a new bow and arrow? Could you imagine yourself in buckskins like Davy Crockett?

In our busy adult world, with jobs and bills and responsibilities and stress and pain, sometimes we forget to love Christmas like we did as a kid. To see and smell and touch the beauty and traditions of celebrating Jesus’s birthday. When you closed your eyes a moment ago, what did you see? Did you remember something special?

I recall how one year, I shook a beautiful red-wrapped present, listening for any sound that might give away the contents. Was that briefest of clatters the sound of a miniature washing machine? Oh, I hoped so! I couldn't wait for morning to come so I could find out if my mom had gotten me the thing I longed for—a toy machine to wash all my doll clothes. Can you imagine a seven-year-old wanting that? Ha! After a lifetime of washing clothes, I wonder, what in the world was I thinking? Why would I want such a gift? But I did.

Another year, when I was older, we got a long wooden toboggan as a family gift. We spent days and days sliding down the hills in Ketchikan, Alaska. One time, a bunch of snow fell in the middle of the night, and one of my brothers woke me up, and the three of us and our cousins bundled up and went outside and played in the snow, building all kinds of sculptures—before it could melt away.

Oh, the treasures and memories we have inside of us. Have you thought of your childhood Christmases lately? What smells take you back to those carefree days? Cinnamon rolls? Fudge? Hot chocolate cooking on the stove?

“Silent Night” brings back warm feelings for me, because my mom and I used to sing that song while we washed dishes. It was the first song where I learned to hold the melody while someone else harmonized. Each time I hear the song, I remember her.

Of course, we can’t live in the past. We have the privilege of making new memories this year, and in the coming year. But, every now and then, it’s a blessing to go back and remember the special times we experienced in our youth. These memories are part of our story in the book of our lives.

We’re supposed to become like a child in faith. That brings to mind the verse . . . “Unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.” (Mt. 18:3) To me, that means being free and joy-filled and full of anticipation in what God can do. A child sees the moment and enjoys it. He’s open and full of belief. His joy hasn’t been diminished by disappointment. Nothing holds a child back from expressing happiness over the smallest things. A child who is belly-laughing isn’t a bit concerned over how he looks or sounds or who might care. In that moment, he’s absolutely free. And it’s beautiful. I love hearing a child’s laughter. It’s contagious and makes me laugh too.

We get caught up in too many “serious” things in this life. I know, there are plenty of serious things to consider. But, let’s take a few minutes and remember what it’s like to see Christmas through the eyes of a child. Let’s remember. Starting with Jesus. Loving those around you. Taking it all in. Truly feeling again.

A child really can lead us. In fact, He already did.

Merry Christmas!!