Our Christmas Miracle

In the fall of 1992, I was a freshman at Maryville College and on work-study in the library. My friend Akiko was standing just on the other side of the circulation desk, talking with me, when a security guard approached and said I needed to call home. I hurried with dread to the payphone in the lobby, Akiko on my heels, and learned that my (paternal) grandma had died. I've never forgotten the comfort of my friend: how she walked with me to my dorm room, stayed with me as I packed. I've always believed that God sent her to the library to be with me.

I remembered this at the restaurant, last night, when I was hurrying to leave work and looked up to see Andrea and Vanderhoop just inside the front door. Am I dying? I thought, then: Whatever is happening, God has sent them. I've been here before.

My sister-cousin Andrea is a nurse. When I told her I was leaving work and why (more bleeding than after childbirth or miscarriage), she insisted not only that I go to the ER but also that I allow her to drive me. Jim and the four children had been at the zoo for the live nativity and headed toward the hospital. "Go ahead and check in," he said. "I'll bring the insurance card."

As I left with a nurse for triage, Andrea asked: "How do you want this to go?"

"I want you to take the children home," I told her. "I want Jim to stay with me."

And even as the words left my mouth, I realized: I already have my Christmas miracle.

I've been praying for a different one; Jim had a fourth interview, last week, and whatever the company decided, they decided, yesterday. They told him they would turn yesterday's decision over to HR and contact the candidate of choice early next week. I can't tell you how many times I've thought: Wouldn't it be nice if they called, this week, to say he has the job? 

I've been longing for my parents and brother's family in East Tennessee; I haven't been home for an entire year, and I guess I've never been apart from my mom at Christmastime. I haven't been able to bring myself to ship her a package. She hasn't been able to bring herself to put up a tree. Wouldn't it be nice, I've thought, to know Jim has that job...to just pack up and go home?

Our situation has not yet been resolved; yet, already I can say:

I would not go back.

I would not go back to where we were before Jim lost his job. We were with our third marriage counselor, and while he is incredible!, progress was painfully slow. Jim was so frustrated that he walked out of our last session. He lost his job right after; then, we didn't have the option to return to our (slow) miracle worker. We didn't have the $300/month to spare.

Trust me when I say: after Jim lost his job, things got much worse before they got better. But this situation has been like a jump-start, or defibrillation, to our marriage. I believe we will make it, now. I believe we will be okay. And I'm going to be okay: I was discharged from the hospital with a doctor's note for work and strict instructions to visit my OB/GYN, today. My body is changing. (There's a pill for me.)

My heart is changing, too, and Jim's. We are changing. God is at work, here. There has already been a Christmas miracle.

When Santa Sat in My Section

Jim's concerns were broader than mine when it became necessary for me to start working nights; I fretted only in anticipation of missing Cade (who attends school during the day) and certain nighttime events, especially holiday ones. I prayed about these concerns and tried my best to trust that whatever was meant to work out, would.

Halloween rolled around, first, and I love halloween. One year when Cade was small, I taught a composition class three times in order to accommodate all the students in a class I'd cancelled: a class I'd been scheduled to teach on halloween night. It was worth it, too, to take Cade trick-or-treating.

I tried to get halloween off, this year, but got scheduled to work. Rachel suggested that we trick-or-treat with her family (and many others from our small group) at Bethpage Camp-Resort the Saturday before halloween, and upon hire at the restaurant, I had requested that night off...but only because I'd been paid generously to take some family photos. To further complicate matters, I was hoping to catch Cade's band performance (which I hadn't yet seen) at the Fall Classic.

In the end (and I can still scarcely believe it all worked out), the family asked to be photographed in the morning as opposed to the oft-requested afternoon; Jim, the little kids, and I enjoyed Bethpage to the fullest; and I made it to the late (10 pm) band performance.

I worked halloween night joyfully and met a customer for whom I pray often. He's an older gentleman and was alone on a slow night, so I did a rare thing: I sat down with him. He told me his wife had just died.

Next, Thanksgiving. Travel was impossible given that I had to work the days before and after, but the restaurant was closed, Thanksgiving day, and Cade and I spent hours hiking together.

After all this, I wish I could tell you I had no trepidation about Christmas, but I wondered about Christmas eve; I did. The restaurant is closed on Christmas day, but Cade spends Christmas day with his dad, Christmas eve with me. This is how we all prefer it; Cade's other family has a big meal on Christmas day, while this family attends candlelight service on Christmas eve. Amazingly, management granted not only my request to have Christmas eve off, but also lunch, today, to attend Jesus's birthday party at church.

Friday night, I walked into my section at work only to realize that Santa and Mrs. Claus were seated in one of my booths. When I introduced myself, Santa said: "I already know your name. And furthermore, I know you've been a very good girl this year." I burst into tears right there at the table.

Later, I said to a friend: "I was way too emotionally disregulated to serve Santa Claus!"

He shook his head, laughed, and said: "You were the perfect person! No one else would've cared as much as you. You got the full effect of what he was trying to do. I think it's awesome!" And, yes. Awesome. Because there's something no one--neither Santa nor my friend--knew.

My recent prayers have included my asking God to help me trust Him with my little-girl self, and I received Santa's visit as a response, from God, to that prayer. It was as if God were saying: I hear you (all of you, including the little-girl you), and I care about you, and I care very much about your Christmas. I couldn't wonder if God had sent Santa for my children because my children weren't present. I was alone. But I am never alone.

The further I journey, the more fully I believe that a relationship with God is just that: a relationship. It requires faith on my part (and sometimes, the suspension of disbelief). It requires my seeking with expectancy. I could chalk everything I've just shared and more! up to coincidence, luck, serendipity, fortune, or---I don't know--an alien spark? But I find it so much more thrilling to believe I am blessed...that God is using all things to my good: even (especially?) the hard things. Because if that's true, I have nothing to fear and everything to anticipate with joy. Bad is good if He is with me, and He is. His very name tells it. He is Immanuel.

The front of the card Santa left me.

The back of the card Santa left me.

To Clementine at Six

Oh My Darlin',

My head spins a little when I consider the last year of your life. You got your ears pierced and hair cut. You lost your first four teeth. You learned to read and completed kindergarten math. You asked Jesus into your heart. You were baptized.

And I don't always know what I'm doing; in fact, I'm very often at a loss. You're so different from your older brother that I tend to feel like a first-time parent, parenting you. I've been guilty of fretting, and I've done a fair amount of asking God to help me be the mother you need.

The most important thing I can write down for you today, when you're six, also against the day that you will be a mommy, yourself, is this: God loves you so much. He has been for and with us, behind and ahead of us, too. At every point, He has made our path clear. He has answered in detail every question and provided for us at a level very hard to explain.

He called me to be your teacher and hand-selected each of our resources. I bought our book of Bible stories for a quarter the day before we started kindergarten. I found your Bible for one penny plus shipping. One friend gifted us our entire math program; another wrote the devotions we were reading the night you asked me, crying, how to pray Jesus into your heart. I found two books I'd sought (sometimes quite actively) for thirty years, since losing them in my own childhood.

You mentioned you wanted a piano, and within weeks, a piano became available for free. You asked for a dog, and I gave you a hard no, but within two days, a dog--the right dog--made her way to us.

And perhaps most importantly, the Lord is actively addressing my weaknesses as a teacher (mommy, person). He has opened my eyes, and He has sent helpers.

I can't imagine trying to live this life without Him, and I'm thankful for His promise to both of us, Clementine, as His children: nothing--not tribulation, distress, persecution, famine, nakedness, peril, sword, death, life, angels, principalities, powers, things present, things to come, height, depth, nor any other creature--can separate us from the love of God, which is Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen, Honey. Amen.

I love you so much,
Mama

How We Co-Labor: A Marriage Letter

Dear Jim,

I feel so happy in this moment and almost a little guilty for it (given the situation with your mom), but just: you'll never know how conflicted I felt about homeschooling the little kids, and for how long. Sometimes I flip-flopped from one hour to the next. Even if I managed to lean one way for an entire week, I didn't have peace, and I didn't understand why...especially because I was really praying.

My pro and con lists were almost the same length, and I could write them out for you, but truth is: all the cons stemmed from self-doubt. I didn't know if I could do it, and maybe I can't.

I never thought to ask God to send you home (I wonder why; you'd worked from home before Char and Chip were born, and that had been good for us), but--when you told me you'd be working remotely starting May 1st--I remembered all over again: God sees me. He knows who I am, how I am. He knows what I need.

Your job keeps you hopping (or talking and typing). I don't see you much during the day; you're holed up in the office you put together in the corner of our bedroom. But that's okay. I don't need you much during your work hours. I need you during what used to be your driving hours. I need you to help this morning hater get the day started, and I need you to help me shut the day down.

You'd struggled to understand why I'd been so very...done by 6:30, so I was touched, today, when you said: "I have a whole new appreciation for what you've been doing around here, and I'm sorry I haven't been more supportive." All this time, that's what I've wanted: not so much for you to do anything as for you to see me. Now, you do. Or, at least, you hear me. And when a little person gets particularly unruly downstairs, your voice booms down from above like the very voice of God. I had no idea how much I needed that little bit of reinforcement.

I'm not too proud to admit: I don't know if I can homeschool the little kids. But I know we can. I have so much peace about it, now. What a gift to have you home.

I love you.
Brandee

**writing in community with Amber and Seth Haines

On Entering and Breaking a Fast

I confess I've been overwhelmed, lately, in my spirit: so overwhelmed that I haven't known how to separate--in my mind or heart or writing--the wheat from the chaff. Truth is, a person can write in a line or a circle, but there should be a vision. I like my writing tight. I believe every word matters, and if I can't write in a way that makes sense, to me, of me, I'll wait. I'm more patient than you think, too, especially with myself.

Also, I know: in the end, this business of separating wheat from chaff is the Lord's. He's not the author of confusion. When I'm not hearing Him well--when His voice is just one of so many others in my head, when all the words (His, other people's, mine) whirl around in my nog like debris in a dust cloud--I need to let something(s) go: to simplify in order to discern.

I quit facebook almost two months ago. My thinking improved but not enough, so I entered a Daniel Fast on the 3rd. In case you're not familiar, this is a twenty-one-day, partial fast based out of scripture (see Daniel 1 and 10). It's like a vegan diet with extra limitations.

I feel stronger when I'm fasting. I don't mean to downplay the spiritual implications of this statement but know: for me, the increase in strength is tied to my avoiding sugar in all its forms (including carbs). Sugar makes me sick, but it calls to me from the cupboard, and I'm weak.

Jim spent just over a week of my fast with his mom, and I put my extra strength to good use: taking care of the children, yes, but also shampooing the living-room carpet, getting the minivan inspected, helping Cade with his science-fair project, taking two children for well visits, taking two children for haircuts, putting away the piles of clean clothes in my bedroom (which almost never happens), hosting small group. I felt empowered, and loved ones came alongside.

I prayed while fasting. A lot. I asked the Lord to enter four different situations, and I know He entered all of them. I experienced most profoundly His entering my marriage; I'm sure I'll write more about that, later. God showed up, too, in smaller, quieter ways; one Sunday morning, I stepped into the choir room and a warm-up of the same hymn I'd sung over my crying baby the night before.

I vomited four times in the wee hours of the eighteenth day. A virus. (Clementine had done the same twenty-four hours before.) When I got up to take Cade to the bus, I felt released from the fast.

***

"I don't need your sacrifices," He says. 

"I know," I tell Him. "I needed my sacrifices."

He nods. "Yes," He says, and pushes the cup of flat ginger ale in my direction.

Prayer Meeting of the Blogosphere (13)

Welcome to the thirteenth, old-fashioned prayer meeting of the blogosphere. I've had a good week: my small group finished a study of Romans; the children and I got through our regular activities without a hitch (Charleigh even earned a ribbon in gymnastics!); I had a great visit with Becky, yesterday; and my brother's surgery seems to have gone well. I hope you've had a good week, too!

We'll be setting our clocks back, soon, and jumping feet first into colder, darker months. I tend to feel sleepier, more languid, and less inspired this time of year, so I'm going to pray against that, this week:

Heavenly Father, thank You for a good week. Thank You for going with my brother. I ask Your healing hand upon him and just pray that he will be able to live life more fully and comfortably, going forward. I lift little Jaimie up to you, also Nathan and Zeb. I lift Jackson and Kendall up to You. Thank You for caring about what's in the best interest of all five of these children. Too, I lift my friend Jason up to you. 

Thank You for Your Son Jesus, the ultimate Creator. Thank You for seasons: so different one from another and each so beautiful in its own right. I know that even now, as I type this, it's springtime for my friend Julia in New Zealand. Thank You for my autumn and her spring. Thank You for the season of each person reading here. 

Wake us up, Father, and keep us awake. Breathe into us Your Spirit. Give us songs to sing, words to write, images to capture and create. Make us Your inspired people evermore. We love and thank You and pray in Jesus's name, amen.

Now it's your turn! Would you like to participate in an old-fashioned prayer meeting of the blogosphere? Here are some ideas:

• You can pray about my prayer request.
• You can share a prayer request by means of a comment.
• You can share a prayer request on your personal blog and direct me to your post by means of a comment.
• You can pray about a participant's prayer request.
• You can write a prayer about my, your, or someone else's prayer request (in comments hither or yon, on your blog, etc.). If your prayer is somewhere other than this place, please direct me as you can and  will.
• You can join in praying my or someone else's prayer.
• You can share an update regarding a prayer request you've made here, in the past. 

Thank you, Friends, and may God bless and keep you this week.

Prayer Meeting of the Blogosphere (12)

Welcome to the twelfth, old-fashioned prayer meeting of the blogosphere. How are you? I've been sitting here taking inventory, trying to decide how I am, and I'm thinking that--if I'm undecided--I must not be doing all that badly. Ha!

(I used to have this friend at the adult home--Miss Iris, her name was--and every time someone asked her how she was doing, she'd say: "Pretty good, for an old lady." I feel happy, remembering.)

Before I go any further, I want to make a point of thanking you for being here on Fridays. Thank you for agreeing with me in prayer. Thank you for sharing your prayer requests with me.

I'm not going to lie: the prayer-meeting posts are my most unpopular, and I've been tempted to stop writing them. But you know what? This isn't a popularity contest: it's a fellowship of believers! I read back through my prayer-meeting posts, this evening, and several of my prayers have absolutely been answered! Too, these posts fall right in line with my central reason for blogging, which is to record life and faith for my children. Without further ado, then:

Heavenly Father, thank You for hearing us when we pray, and thank You for every answered prayer. You know all the mess I have on my heart; help me leave it at the foot of the cross so as not to let it affect my mood or outlook. I pray the same for my brothers and sisters reading here. Give us the gift of the "big picture." Help us to focus on our many blessings, Lord. You are so good, and we love You so much. In Jesus's name we pray, amen.

Now it's your turn! Would you like to participate in an old-fashioned prayer meeting of the blogosphere? Here are some ideas:

• You can pray about my prayer request.
• You can share a prayer request by means of a comment.
• You can share a prayer request on your personal blog and direct me to your post by means of a comment.
• You can pray about a participant's prayer request.
• You can write a prayer about my, your, or someone else's prayer request (in comments hither or yon, on your blog, etc.). If your prayer is somewhere other than this place, please direct me as you can and  will.
• You can join in praying my or someone else's prayer.
• You can share an update regarding a prayer request you've made here, in the past. 

God bless you, Friends. I hope to see you next week, if not before.