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Monday, December 16, 2013

peace for the revolutionary mama

Can you believe less than 10 days till Christmas??? Oh, the crafting I have to do!!! EEEEEK.

I have lists coming out of my ears. On every electronic device we own. In long email strings with poor dada who can only smile and nod and try to keep up.

Lists and lists and more lists. Piles of craft supplies. Sketches for dada to take to his woodworking bench. Shopping lists swirling in my head  as I go to sleep each night. Images of doll patterns and mermaid flipper costumes.

Oh. MY.

And then, and then, and then.

You have to stop. And think. And remember.

And I did this yesterday.

The message at our little country church yesterday was directed at me. Looking out into the small crowd, the tinsel strung tree twinkling in the sunshine pouring through the stain-glassed windows our pastor said, looking straight at me:

"It is NOT the season for To Do lists. Put aside the To Do lists. Put aside the agendas, the NEED to get it done thoughts. For it is, instead, to be a season of peace, contemplative peace."


And then, then she went on to talk about the revolutionary that Mary was, an unwed teenage mother, crying out to her God, in the Magnificat, despite what society said of her, she called out, dancing for joy at the miracle of her life, the life in her. Feeling blessed.

And I couldn't help but think how brave she was, and then, it occurs to me as I type...

Wouldn't it be revolutionary if we all did this in our approach to motherhood?  In the nitty gritty of our daily lives? Danced for joy at new life? Danced to celebrate the 2am feedings. Danced to celebrate the getting woken up at 6am with "MOOOOM I WET THE BED. AGAIN" The cold cups of coffee found lying around the house. The pine needles everywhere. The smudged windows. The rejected Pinterest crafts. And yes, the dear moments too. The happily playing ninja children. The boy who gets you tea. The smiling hugs and jumps when dada gets home each night. Dinner cooking on the stove, steaming up the windows, as the lights flicker on the tree, happy noises everywhere.

All of it.



Cry out to the world.

We are mamas.

And THIS?? All of this CHAOS?? (As I type I stop to yell at two year old for ripping ornaments off the tree and throwing them on the ground. "IF YOU DO THAT AGAIN I WILL TAKE THE TREE DOWN!" Ah, what were we talking about again?? PEACE??? Ah, yes.)

But. Yes. All of it. SHOUT IT OUT.


Not that it is all "good good" but that it is GOOD. That I can be at peace, with it all.

And if we were to do this, to shout it out to the world, to dance to celebrate it, let our cries be lifted to the heavens and then fill our hearts, with peace. How revolutionary would that be???

So I hit publish on this and then I realize this post isn't done yet. Mainly because I walk away from the computer to face the grey day and the Christmas wound-up children and I spend an hour trying to find the "perfect" pictures of the kids for Christmas cards and the cats come tearing up the stairs covered in red and I am like "ACK. BLOOD??!!" and no, its red oil pastel, why? Because baby toddler dear decided it would be a good idea to color on them. Red. Oil pastel. Which requires an actual cat bath adventure, with soap, and I don't have that in me. So my red cats and I turn on a video for the kids, curl up on the couch, and ponder...

"What would the above scenario look like??" I mean, the whole "shouting it out from the rooftop" bit?? You know?

Honestly, I think it looks like, getting up on a grey snowy morning, throwing back the cozy covers, putting in another load of laundry, hugging a little body that slips and falls, putting socks on cold toes (over and over again), making grilled cheese, cleaning up more pine needles, doing the dishes, getting dinner started.

This. This is what it looks like.

It also looks like, emailing an old friend, just to say hi, letting dada have the middle cinnamon roll, even though that is the best one, texting love to a friend in need, crying at another friends losses, and crying at their joys, staying connected to other mamas, even when you are the drained one.

This. This is what it looks like.

And we are doing it, you know? Even on the hard days. The survival days. We do it. Over and over again.

And that, is something to dance about. You know? We are blessed.

And I am not sure if this makes sense, as I write it out and put it out there, but there is something in me that needs to affirm what I am doing in this moment in life - the gnome crafting, the mac and cheese, the homeschool lessons, the so on and so forth of motherhood - something in me that needs to embrace it, embrace it and be at peace.

And, I write it here, no matter how garbled it comes out, because I figure maybe one of you out there feels the same way. So, there it is.

Saint Nicholas boots!

dancing to Christmas music. HA HA.


I think I should use this one in our family Christmas cards. HA. The others weren't much better!


  1. I see St. Nicholas came. We are Americans living in Germany, and ever since we moved here St. Nicholas has come to our house on Dec. 6th. Our landlord brings a plate with clementines, walnuts and chocolates for the kids. - Julie


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