"Happy Birthday Thanksgiving!" - Adden

2009 Thanks
Little Man: baseball fields and baseball bats
Little Woman: little bear, mom, dad, pink, and "so many things"
Big Man: good health for the clan
Big Woman: our kids' joy and 9 years engaged to the hubs

A Pen, A Cape, and Thank You

I would’ve thought that if a woman had saved Thanksgiving, then I would’ve heard of her. But it’s quite likely that I haven’t been paying attention.

Her name was Sarah Josepha Hale. And she was incredible.

Sarah was only 34 when she was left widowed and penniless, with five children. Her husband died unexpectedly, and with him died her dreams. It was said that they were crazy about each other. I imagine that she got through such unspeakable tragedy, because she had to be strong for someone else. That's my guess, at least.

To add to her personal tragedies, she lived at a time of national insecurity and civil unrest. She could have easily retreated to fear. No one would have wronged her for it. Instead, she picked up a pen.

With that pen, Sarah authored two dozen books, the first published at age 39. She became the editor of the first women’s magazine in America. On that platform, she urged equal education for American girls, started childcare for working women, fought for the abolition of slavery, founded the Seaman’s Society to provide for destitute women, and came up with the idea of public playgrounds.

Over her lifetime, she wrote thousands of letters to presidents. It’s hard to believe that with all of those achievements, she’s probably best known for writing “Mary Had a Little Lamb." Well, that, and the saving of Thanksgiving.

Since the first Thanksgiving celebration in 1621, the holiday had only been celebrated sporadically, by individual states. And it was losing ground. Sarah thought that making Thanksgiving a national holiday would help to heal a broken land.

She wrote presidents for forty years, petitioning for this idea. She is quoted as saying, "There is a deep moral influence in these periodical seasons of rejoicing, in which whole communities participate. They bring out . . . the best sympathies in our natures."

In 1863, one letter did the trick. Amidst the brutality of the Civil War, Abraham Lincoln resonated with Sarah’s idea. That year, he issued the Proclamation to secure Thanksgiving as a national holiday. Amidst the trenches of adversity, with gunshots firing, he rose up to give thanks. He gave thanks because Sarah had asked him to.

Was this woman for real? Yeah, but the strength that we see in hindsight, was fashioned by her pain. That’s the way that it always is, but yet I still need reminded. Her achievements are enviable, but they were built on failures and committed persistence; a fiery-like diligence to small, inconsequential efforts every day.

She got up in the morning and wrote a letter. She got up in the morning and made breakfast for her kids. She got up in the morning and sang a silly song about sheep. Maybe some days, all she did was get up.

Upon reading her life's story, she became one of my favorite heroes. I am blown away by such a life. But I also know so many individuals just like her.

Even as I type, names are coming to mind of friends and family who get up in the morning to fight challenges bigger than themselves. But they get up anyway and forge ahead. I am ever grateful for these unlikely heroes, whom God has placed in my path.

They may not see their legacy this side of eternity, but it's being written page by page. Thanks.

Remember

That all freedom has a cost.
That this day is for remembering.
That military casualties in the US total 849,898 dead and counting.
That men and women have died so that we might have life.

The words thank you seem too cheap.
But they're all I know to say.

All Things New

Like any Momma, I am crazy about my kiddos. For tons of reasons, but one being that they make me slow down. They help me to see things with their eyes, on their level. And with them, ordinary life is touched with wonder.

Today we saw:

A bird busy stuffing too much brush in her puny little beak.
Perennials poking their heads up through the mushy ground.
Pink buds in mid-sprout coloring the trees.
A dog flying through the air to retrieve a ball. (To which Adden responded with much applause.)

The sun blanketed us with warmth and the coats got ditched real quick. We tricycled and ran and sang and slid in the mud. Adden's giddy laugh was contagious, as were Selah's new discoveries of the world in our own backyard. After a long, drab winter, spring is sure welcome round these parts. Not only welcome, but necessary.

Necessary cause I need to see God making all things new again. The visual of spring is dynamic. It's necessary to know that He creates and He reconciles. He forms beauty again out of the dirt. He takes a skeleton of a tree and colors it with life one more time. "The old has gone, the new has come." The dead has gone, the life has come.

It's necessary for me to know that I can be made new. Old habits can change. Patterns of wrong can be made right. Tucked away dreams can be pursued, with the vigor of that dog today retrieving a tennis ball - tail waggin' delight, sprinting after one target, breathless with anticipation for what lies ahead.

Spring is just around the corner on our calendar. But in Christ, there is always the promise of spring no matter what day of the year; there is hope of new life, yet again.

December Tankings

If anyone is still reading this, you'll have noticed I've been on a hiatus.

December has been so not simple.

My little part time job has morphed into a crazy monster of late... evening parties, special events, office training... customer service calls, marketing, and all sorts of computer program crash courses. I even needed training on how to put the stinkin' phone on my head. Who puts the phone on backwards? I had no idea how earpiece headsets were configured.

Then there have been cankers. Oh, the cankers. I've had bout after bout after bout of 5-7 suckers at a time. The craters attack every square inch of my mouth, leaving me with lots of drool and a sweet lisp. It's lovely, really. And they make me so fatigued. So fatigued. Some part of me is out of balance somewhere so I'm heading to a doctor for help. I want crazy super powered supplements. I want to be able to fly and scale walls. For real.

Of course there have been Christmas parties and story times and meals with friends and the Christmas Carol in Pittsburgh (fantastic, by the way!) and playing dress up and chasing Adden and date nights with Paul - and these things have been a joy. A pure joy. All has not been just work and cankers, but sometimes it sure seems like it.

Today was the first morning in quite a while that I woke up feeling healthy and well. I could talk like a normal human being and eat fruit and a bagel and be present for life, be present for people, be present for God. So I said thanks and thanks and thanks to my Giver of every good thing.

And then it hit me.

I never really got that last post. About thanking God regardless.

All this time, God was just waiting on me. Waiting on me for a thanks, a praise, an ounce of appreciation for His unseen sovereignty and grace and majesty - even in the midst of crazy December days. Something, anything.

But me, I only like to thank God when all is how I think it should be. When I'm in control, when I feel perfect, when everyone around me does what I think they should do, when things are at peace, when.... Okay, I should stop cause it's just getting uglier from here.

Thanking God regardless. I've got to have another go at this cause I tanked last time.

But this time, this time it'll be different. And next time you hear from me I may even be able to fly. Won't that be something?

Much Love and Thanks and Peace,
Kristin

Gratitude in Pain and Joy

This cat is one of my favorite authors. Here's an excerpt from a piece Winn Collier wrote for Everyday Women - even though - as he states - "he is not, in fact, an everyday woman."

Sometimes - surely - Scripture doesn't mean exactly what it says. Ephesians places one of those difficult phrases in front of us: "always giving thanks to God the Father for everything..." (5:20). Everything? Really? Am I to give thanks for the divorce that rips apart a family? A disease that shreds a body? Does God actually desire me to be grateful for the evils of slavery and genocide?

Read more here.

Happy, almost belated, Thanksgiving.

Much love,
Kristin

An Ode to Fleecy Footed Jammies

It's those jammies. You know the kind, those one piece fleece kind with feet. They got to me the other night. Got me all choked up and stuff. Over jammies.

As I was holding Adden before bed, I kept looking down at his feet. All zippered in, nice and snug. I wondered how long he would wear those kinda jammies. Maybe when he's seven, but not likely. He already wants to be big like Daddy. And these are little kid jammies.

My eyes welled over jammies.

Maybe it's really not about the jammies after all, though, you think? It's about a little boy, drooling in his momma's arms. It's about being cozy and safe and loved. It's about a one year old's dreams of conquering the kitchen cupboards. It's about a woman's dreams coming true... to hold this little one and to call him mine.

My

Little

Boy.

Forget if this crazy kiddo robs me of sleep and sanity nights without number. Forget if he delights in pulling used coffee filters out of the trash. Grinds everywhere.... Forget if he creates implements of destruction with a mere fork or pen. Forget if I really never know where my toothbrush has been before I go in for a brush. It's always a gamble.

He's my little boy.

And for this season, I will delight in fleecy jammies. You know the kind, with the feet.

And I will give thanks and thanks and thanks for just this.

Sure, God is on that thankful list. And Paul and Selah and the rest of my family of course. Our home. Freedom. Church. The Bible. Good health. Food. Clean water...

But sometimes, at least for me, these big ticket items lose their grandeur. They become ordinary, everyday, commonplace. They never lose their magic or wonder, but I do.

I do.

Sometimes the best thing I can do for myself and my family is to make a practice of excavating even small, seemingly insignificant gifts. And saying thanks for them.

Cause really. If I fail to thank God for fleecy footed jammies, I'm going to look right on past everything else in my life too.

Thank You

Courage is almost a contradiction in terms.

It means a strong desire to live taking the form of readiness to die.

~G.K. Chesterton

With much gratitude for all of our veterans and those who are currently serving. We honor your courage today.

Thank you,

Paul, Kristin, Selah and Adden

Waiting for a Mosaic

Fourth day straight here, propped up on the pull out bed in our living room, immobile. The windows are open, letting in a soft and gentle breeze. The sunlight brightens this space, as do stunning bouquets of sunflowers, roses, and daisies. Next to me is a pile of favorite books, thoughtful handwritten cards, carefully chosen magazines, and a Starbucks, which is helping my brain think that it’s returning to a sense of normalcy.


There is also a quiet here. Free from the endless beeping of IV’s that need changed, the drone of my roommate’s TV, the scurrying around of hospital carts. Free from hearing the beautiful laughter and energy of our children, although I miss that commotion immeasurably. Free to listen to a God who wants to love on me and create the most beautiful of all mosaics from these broken pieces. His word is sustaining me.

What happened this weekend, in medical terms, was a ruptured ectopic pregnancy. There was internal hemorrhaging, an emergency surgery, and intense continual pain worse than any labor. My surgeon told me I could’ve easily lost my life. I guess these tubal ruptures are the most common cause of maternal death in early stage pregnancies, yet they are commonly misdiagnosed.


Though the recovery is daunting, what hurts most at this point is the loss itself. We are devastated. I had suspected a pregnancy for about 2 weeks prior to our actual confirmation on Monday. The baby was 6 weeks old, but we had only known about it for a few short days. Still, I had a hard time leaving the hospital, because I didn’t want to leave our baby there. It felt cold and heartless and cruel. A grave shouldn’t be a sterile operating room. If I didn’t believe that Jesus was cradling our little one now, I would be without comfort. He is perfect love.


Despite this knowledge, I can’t stop crying. I assume it’s a result of the medicine, the grief, the hormonal crash, the unmet expectations, everything. Something in me wants to seek a divergence and immerse myself in something that will numb the pain. Another part of me is a good judge and is shamed for feeling grief. I know others have hurt more. We have it so good. I suppose a more balanced view keeps all things in perspective - and - grieves well and joys well, since God’s goodness has never been challenged.


So there ya have it. Since I’m doing a stellar job crying, I think I need to match that with thanks. Here is what I will choose to joy in today:

• My husband – I don’t have to choose to joy in you. You make me smile today and every day.
  
• Our beautiful sensitive daughter
  
• Our crazy curious son
  
• A baby who was spared the heartaches of this world
  
• Paul’s parents for graciously watching the kiddos
  
• My brother for being my friend, helping me, and letting me kick his butt in Scrabble
  
• The youth group students for cleaning our windows, preparing our home for our welcome, and folding toilet paper with love:) You guys are the best!
  
• Church families for praying and making meals and sending notes
  
• Friends who have brought the most thoughtful gifts over
  
• Everyone who has left a message here - I’ve read them over and over
  
• Friends who called at all hours desperate for ways to help
  
• My mom for flying in today
  
• Outstanding medical care
  
• Medicine that takes the edge off (and causes me to dream about large whales devouring small American gymnasts:)
  
• This life and breath
  
• My beautiful Jesus
  

I couldn't thank each of you enough for all you've done. Thank you, thank you, thank you. Your kindness has been beautiful.


With Love Because of Jesus,


Kristin, Paul, Selah, and Adden

Thankful

Selah's beaming smile when I tell her I love her. The warm weather today that welcomed us outside. Our townhome, even though it's a disaster right now - life is lived here. Adden's nose wrinkle when he laughs. The quietness of naptime. Everything, everything, everything about Paul.

Hot coffees to wake me up, with extra cream and extra sugar. This breath that God has given me. Friends who call or write and love me despite myself. The invigoration you feel after you exercise. Pad Thai, beem en bop, any kind of fish, kimchi, vegetables, and those unhealthy little clamcake buggers.

The wonder of spring. The joy of children's laughter. Having food in the fridge, clothes to wear, a bed to sleep in at night, a car to drive, and a roof over our heads. Teenagers and their honest questions. A mom and a dad whom I adore. God's word - its straight up honesty, its messy interpretations, its life giving wisdom - I would wither away without my Daddy's words to me.

Simplicity. Listening to older people's stories (especially the Bopster's.) Stories of redemption. Hope. People who bring beauty to despair. People who love others to Jesus. My brother and his antics, humor, and friendship. Diners. People who are transparent and admit weaknesses. Friends who call my bluff when things aren't as they should be.

Getting letters in the mail that you can hold in your hands. Clean water. Rhode Island. People who fight for justice and rescue those for whom the world has forgotten. The beauty of marriage ( I love you Paul!) The church when it is being the church. South Korea and my family there. Childhood friends. My MOPS group. Fresh-cut flowers. A little place called Camp Squanto. The ocean. David Crowder, Sara Groves. My kids, my kids, my kids.

Being a mommy. My husband's family who teach, love, and give endlessly. My brother and sister in law and nephew who make us laugh. Knowing that there is so much to life beyond what we can see. Freedom. Classical ballet. Challenges. A child's endless discovery, curiosity, and wonderment. Learning, reading, writing. Our jobs. People who are 89 years old and still loving Jesus with abandonment.

Laughter. The wisdom that heartache teaches you. Homemade meals. The light in some one's eyes when Jesus becomes real. Sunshine. Music that stirs something within you. Peace when life seems out of control. Photography. Opportunities to see the world and the people of the world whom God's heart adores.

But most of all, Jesus. Because of Jesus, I have this breath... I am learning how to be fully alive... I have everything I could ever want... I am happy in my own skin...I can hope and dream and love.

Because of Jesus,
Kristin