I thought I would write this blog post yesterday.  You see, I was trapped at home all day yesterday.  Our truck was in the garage so Larry drove the jeep to work which meant I was stuck at home.

And if you read the words "trapped" and "stuck" as good things, you know me well.  I was delighted to have the ability to go nowhere.

This is the week of Christmas.  Which means I'm making a lot of food.  So I cooked and baked and watched Downton Abbey.

My family, we've got this tradition of having an untraditional Christmas dinner.  In the past we've done fried food, breakfast food, appetizers, Italian, cheeseburgers.  This year our theme is soft pretzels.  The above pictures are the making of soft pretzel bread bowls and bacon chowder.  Yeah, you heard that right: bacon chowder.  Oh.My.Goodness.

Here are the recipes.  If you make them you won't be sorry.  Also, I'm sorry.  For the bacon chowder recipe.  It's scribbly and written on the back of a bank envelope.  Cuz I made it up and that is how I roll.

I also made soft pretzel hot dogs.  Mmmm.

And then death by chocolate Christmas trees for Cole's Christmas party at school.

And then we had leftover candy.  So we made these.

One more photo on the subject of food.

So it was a productive day but no blogging happened.  But the idea behind this blog started on Sunday morning.

If you follow me on Instagram (madefromscratchwithlove) you saw this picture on Sunday morning.

Sunrises and silhouettes.  There is just something about the breaking of a new day.  And the outline of familiar objects still darkened, waiting for the light to fully shine.  I can't put my finger on it or find the right words but it makes me grateful to be alive to witness the beauty.

So that is how my day started along with a pint and a half of coffee and two homemade peanut butter cups for breakfast.  I was feeling pretty dang good by the time we got to church.  Social even.  I know, I know, gasp!

We walked into the sanctuary and right away I noticed the risers.  One son did too.  "Oh, are they gonna sing?" he says.

"I think so," I say.

"I don't like that," he says.

And here's the part where I want to be delicate and I don't want to lose or offend.  I don't like it either.  I know that some of you who were singing in the choir on Sunday will be reading this.  Please keep reading and please don't be offended.  It's nothing personal.

I just don't like when the choir sings.  

I could feel my bad attitude taking over.  As the choir opened their mouths, I opened my bulletin.  I was reading and not listening.  Reading the prayer page.

I read about a young couple, she on bed rest, trying to keep her baby in the womb because it's too early, he needing shoulder surgery but having it postponed because of the current situation with his wife and unborn child.

I read about a woman recovering from an acute ear infection whose equilibrium is off.  This same woman who has been trying to help her daughter whose husband had a stroke.

I read about another young couple whose infant daughter is still in the hospital because she needs a bone marrow transplant.

I read about a family who had laid their father/grandfather to rest last week.  Just before Christmas.

And then I heard what the choir was singing.

"Praise his name, Emmanuel."

And the tears came.  I'm choking more back right now.

Praise his name.  God with us.  In the darkness.  In the pain.  In the struggle.  In the uncertainty.

Christmas is for the broken.  

When you look past the tinsel and the holly and the lights and the cookies and the ugly sweater parties, Christmas is for the broken.

If there had been no darkness or pain or struggle or uncertainty we wouldn't have a need for Jesus.  And the story surrounding his birth had all of those elements; darkness, pain, struggle, uncertainty.

He knows.

I don't know where you are right now, how you are feeling, what you are thinking.  What I do know is this:  Jesus isn't afraid of your real prayers.  He's not afraid of the mess.  He's not afraid of your questions.  The greatest gift you can give this season is to come to Jesus with your realest you.  He can handle it.  Trust him.

"For to us a child is born,

to us a son is given,

and the government will be on his shoulders.

And he will be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace."

Normally when I sit down to blog I have some phrases and/or sentences already stored in my mind.  But not today.

What I have is a vague idea.  Something that I've often thought of but never really took any farther than a simple thought.

I am the only person who knows all the people that I know and you are the only person who knows all the people that you know.

It's kind of a weird thought.  But think about it.  Nobody else on earth knows every single person that I know.  Larry knows a lot of the people who I know.  But not all of them.  Not the ones I went to elementary school with.  Not the ones I went to church with before I met Larry.  Not the ones I know from random weird connections.  And I don't know everyone he knows.

Just think about it.

I helped to cater a local church board's Christmas dinner tonight.  I wore my I-might-have-to-talk-to-strangers-hat. 

After we were finished serving I was hiding cleaning up in the back room.  But I could hear what the pastor was saying.  He touched on a verse in Acts.  A verse I'd heard before but that stilled me anew tonight.

"When they saw the courage of Peter and John and realized that they were unschooled, ordinary men, they were astonished and they took note that these men had been with Jesus." ~Acts 4:13

Two things grabbed my attention.

#1: "...they were unschooled, ordinary men..."

It's no secret that I find great delight in the ordinary.  I've blogged before about how the shepherds are my favorite characters in the Christmas story simply because they are so ordinary.

"And there were shepherds living out in the fields nearby, keeping watch over their flocks at night."

It always makes me smile.  

Envisioning the shepherds.   

Cloaks, long beards, staffs.

It always makes me still with wonder.

Envisioning the night sky.

Diamonds glittering against black.

It's a peaceful scene that I see.  And then.

"An angel of the Lord appeared to them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified."

No kidding.  I imagine they might have looked a little like this:

Eyebrows raised.  Mouth agape.  Body tilted sideways (or "sidewards" as Jake likes to say). 

Can you even imagine?  The Lord of heaven and earth chose to have his birth announcement go first to unschooled, ordinary men.

Fast forward to Acts.  Jesus chose to have his gospel, his kingdom, furthered thru unschooled, ordinary men.  Men who had more knowledge of fish guts than people.

Just, wow.

#2:  "...and they took note that these men had been with Jesus."

Herein lies the secret of being memorable.  The rulers, elders, and teachers of the law recognized that Peter and John were just ordinary guys.  But what made them courageous, what made them stand out, what made them different was that they had been with Jesus.

Which brings me around to my first thought.  I am the only person who knows every single person I know.  You are the only person who knows every single person you know.  Your sphere of influence is different than mine.  We most likely know some of the same people and so our spheres overlap a bit.  But here is the question:  do the people in my sphere take note that I have been with Jesus?

Am I making time to spend with Emmanuel so that my brand of ordinary becomes noticeable, memorable?  I confess that I don't always.

It's 11 days until Christmas.  My prayer for you, for me, is that we influence our spheres well.

All or Nothing or Something

It's 7:30 and my house is still quiet.  It's really nothing short of a miracle.  

Or maybe it's because my kids had friends overnight and I finally told them they had to go to sleep at 2:30am.

Whatever.  I'll take it.

My blogging has been quite infrequent this fall.  And I've been ok with that up until now.  It's been over a month since I've blogged and I've started many posts in my head but they've not been allowed to flow from my fingertips.

I've got things to say.  But I'm not sure I can articulate my thoughts well.

First this:  It's less than a week until I speak to the ladies of New Life Fellowship at their Christmas tea.  My thoughts for that evening look like my desk top:  books, magazines, checks, report cards, recipes, bills, invitations, and folders all in a messy, giant heap.

Ew.

Anyway.  


I've been reading this book.  Rereading actually.  Maybe for the fourth time.  I'm not sure, I've lost count.

One Thousand Gifts by Ann Voskamp.

Have you heard of it?  Please buy it for yourself as a Christmas gift.  Every time I read it I am struck anew.  Yesterday I read this:

"In a world addicted to speed, I blur the moments into one unholy smear...Hurry always empties a soul...I speak it to God:  I don't really want more time; I just want enough time.  Time to breathe deep and time to see real and time to laugh long, time to give You glory and rest deep and sing joy and just enough time in a day not to feel hounded, pressed, driven, or wild to get it all done - yesterday."

When I speak to the ladies at New Life I kinda wanna get up and just read them this book.  Ann wrote my heart in that paragraph.

Those words are how I want to live all year.  But especially in this season.  I want to do less so I can be more.  To appreciate now instead of thinking about what needs to happen before then.  Ann says this: "Thanks makes now a sanctuary."

A sanctuary. A haven.  A place of rest.  A place of restoration.

And I don't know about you, but I could use a little restoration.

A little fine tuning.  A little fixing of my heart.

I'm not usually up on all the current events.  Actually, I might be the least informed person you ever want to meet.  I don't watch the news because the news makes me cry.

So I become like Pharaoh and harden my heart.

But this refugee thing.  I can't ignore it any more.

I tried.

I skimmed the headlines in my newsfeed.  I scrolled right passed the blog posts and articles.  I skipped the pictures.

Until I didn't.

In the early morning hours I looked and I read and I felt.

And I wept.

I wrestled with God.  I gave him my list of excuses.

Too busy.
No connections.
Few resources.
Much fear.

God didn't accept my excuses.

What about Thursdays?
Ask Adrianne.
Compared to what?

And the fear.  I kept coming back to a line from The Chronicles of Narnia.  A line spoken about Aslan.

"Safe?" said Mr. Beaver, "Who said anything about safe?  'Course he isn't safe.  But he's good."

Think about Jesus with me for a moment.  Is he safe?  Think about how he lived his life.  He did so many things that were risky.  Things outside the box.  Things that weren't accepted by the religious leaders of the day.  People hated Jesus.

And we are called to be like him.

I'll level with you.  I say that I want to be like Jesus.  But when it's time for the rubber to meet the road...let's just say I like my life the way it is.  It's comfortable.  It's safe.  I'm not rocking any boats.

Then I read articles.  I read statistics.  I see pictures.  And there is war.  The Holy Spirit wars against my flesh.  I know that I can no longer sit by and do nothing.  I cannot sit and read about gifts and thanksgiving and eucharisteo and do nothing.  I cannot put pen to paper and write my own gifts and do nothing.

So I research.  I talk to like minded people.  I send emails.  I go to the store and buy some things.  Things I take for granted every day. Things I would sorely miss if I had to flee my home.

Toothbrush.
Hand towel.
Finger nail clippers.
Soap.

Enough for 10 people.  It seems like too little.  I read that MCC is in urgent need of 8,000 hygiene kits.  I bought enough for 10.  I fought against the All or Nothing.  I can't buy enough for 8,000.  But I don't have to do Nothing.  I can do Something.

So that is where I choose to live.  Not in the All, because I simply can't.  But not in the Nothing, because Jesus won't let me live there anymore.

I'm living in the Something.  I don't know what all that means.  But I'm wondering if you will come live here with me?

Maybe if we all did Something it would be Enough.

Tomorrow is Thanksgiving.  I hope it is a day of renewal for you.  I hope it's filled with great food and great family and friends.  I hope it's a day where we thank God for what we have and ask him what he wants us to do about those who don't have.  I hope it's a day where we let the Holy Spirit win.

Happy Thanksgiving.

Six Weeks and Three Days

That's how long it's been since I've blogged.  

I went for a walk today.  An unhurried, easy, delightful walk.  I followed the same path I walked the last time I blogged.  And I thought about the things I said then.

How that season was feeling difficult.  How I was longing for mid-September when we would be settled into a routine.

And I thought about the things I know now.

That this season is still feeling difficult.  That mid-September came and went and I didn't feel settled into a routine.

And I thought about some words that my very wise daughter turned into word art.

"Live in the moment because it is impossible to go into the past or into the future."

I thought about the recent past.  How I've done a lot of things.  How I've longed to be doing less.

I thought about the near future.  How the calendar looks empty.  How happy I feel about that.

I thought about the moment I was in.  How beautiful the landscape was.  The grass still green, the sky so blue, the leaves so brilliant.  How much I loved the music playing in my ears.  The picking of strings, the blending of voices, the beat of drums.

I thought about how these still, ordinary, sacred moments recharge me for the blurry, crazy, loud moments that are part of every day.

This month my calendar included 3 cross country races (Cole), 4 field trips (1 with Jessie, 1 with Jake, and 2 with Cole), and 8 football games (Kye) in addition to all the regular life stuff.  Honestly, I enjoy all these things.  Watching races and football games are so fun.  And field trips give me one on one time with my kids that is hard to carve out at other times.

But being so busy, even with fun activities, is draining for me.  Today I got something I've been longing for.

Alone time.

Two and a half hours all to myself.  Time where I didn't have to be anyone's mother, wife, friend, or employee.  I could just be Tara.

So I walked and thought.  I uploaded pictures and cleaned up the kitchen.  I wrote parts of this blog post in my mind.  I felt myself breathe.

And I was grateful.  For my boss who rearranged the schedule so I don't have to work on Thursdays.  For my coworkers who switched positions to fill in the schedule on Thursdays.  For the wonderful teachers at my kids school who keep them away from me for hours everyday.  For my husband who works hard to support our family.  For my friends who understand my need for space.  For the moments, busy and still, that I've enjoyed this month.

That last one is from Cole's field trip this week.  We did a walking tour of Lancaster.  It's the third time I've been on this field trip and I love it every time.  I blogged about it last year too.

Cole loves taking pictures and so I let him have free reign with the camera.  I am so thankful we live in the land of digital pictures.  He took approximately 10,000 photos.  Including selfies.

And mom shots...

He seemed to really love the historical signs.

I actually really enjoyed looking at his photos.  It's interesting to see things from an 8 year old boy's point of view.

And then there were these statues.  They are in the one church we toured.  They creep me out every year.  I'm not sure why.

The last one especially.  Shudder.

Cole must have really enjoyed the fountain.

I thoroughly enjoy the fact that he took a picture of his shadow.

There were a few times Cole relinquished control of the camera.

Overall, it was a gorgeous day to be out walking.  Just like today.  And last Thursday.

Last week I went on an overnight camping trip with Jessie's class.

Yeah.  

We slept in a tent.  

On the ground.  

Which felt like rocks.  

Because it probably was.

But other than that it was perfectly delightful.  On Wednesday we did a stream study at French Creek.

While the kids were in the water, I took pictures of things that caught my attention.

I thought the pattern of this root system was so pretty.  And there was something so striking about my niece's shoes in the middle of it.

The leaves were so beautiful.  Up high and on the ground.

On Thursday we took a hike around the lake.

It was stunning.  I always forget how much I love hiking until I am doing it.  The fresh air, the crunch of leaves, the aloneness.  Even in the group of 23, I felt alone.  And I loved it.

I decided that I am going to take myself hiking every Thursday.  Except for when I don't feel like hiking.  Then I might take myself into the city.  Cuz that was glorious too.

How can I enjoy two things so much that feel like complete opposites?  It just adds fuel to the fire of the thought I have often.

I must have multiple personalities.

Please pray for Larry.  I am so difficult to live with.

So, whether today finds you in the city or the country, I hope you are living in the moment.  I hope your eyes are open to beauty.  I hope you feel your lungs inflate with precious air.  I hope you have time to be still.

And, mostly, I hope you feel the sweet presence of Jesus.