:. manger people .:

Finally got the house decorated for Christmas last week. Of course the Nativity set is the most important element at our house (Jesus IS the reason for the season, after all). Ours certainly isn't fancy, but it's served well ever since the girls were little. They spent many an hour playing with the figures; we even saw the demise of the angel 'Maranatha'.

My little boys love the Nativity as well . . . they always ask if they can play with "the manger people". Well, of COURSE they can! That's the whole point of Christmas, that God came down to be accessible to His children.

So, here's what the manger looks like after they've spent the afternoon at my house:

(Those are "Santa Claus logs in the fireplace".)

So, what happened to the 'manger people'? Looks like they just went out for a little drive. (And yes, that's Baby Jesus driving the steam shovel.)

"That which was from the beginning, which we have heard, which we have seen with our eyes, which we have looked at and our hands have touched - this we proclaim concerning the Word of life."

1 John 1:1

:. tracks .:

We had that first wonderful, glorious snowfall of the season the other day. Liam was quite excited to report that he saw TRACKS! in their front yard! I asked what sort of animal he thought made them, and after giving it a little thought he said, "Probably a giraffe".
"Really?! A giraffe??!"
"Or . . . maybe it was a camel."

How I wish we grown-ups never lost that sweet naiveté that assumes a camel could show up in the middle of Iowa. (And why not? I remember hearing about a polar bear that ended up in the middle of the Tunisian desert. But that's another story.)

Mommy quietly whispered to me that actually, the tracks were left by a squirrel.

Oh, the faith of a child, where anything is possible!

:. i might be contagious .:

Josh took my picture today using the 'zombie scanner' app on his phone. Evidently I'm 80% infected. In fact, the scanner gave these instructions:

"Infection has gained control of host. Subject should be exterminated."

And here I thought I had bronchitis. No wonder I feel so awful.

:. in all circumstances .:

I've been thinking a lot about thankfulness lately. And not just because it's Thanksgiving week.
A few months back, I caught myself doing something I hate: having a little pity party. And then I read these words in the book of Daniel:

"Now when Daniel learned that the decree had been published, he went home to his upstairs room where the windows opened toward Jerusalem. Three times a day he got down on his knees and prayed, giving thanks to his God, just as he had done before."

[You can read the whole story for yourself; it's in Daniel 6. This one ends with the whole lions' den scene. Pretty amazing stuff.]

The three times a day thing really hit me between the eyes. I understand it was cultural, but I thought perhaps it would be interesting to try it myself as a sort of spiritual discipline. Because I realized if you're feeling sorry for yourself, there's no room left for thankfulness.

So, three times a day, I stopped whatever I was doing and headed to my room. Getting down on my knees, I mentally searched the previous hours until I found something to thank God for. I didn't take the easy way out and thank Him for family . . . that would've been too obvious and too casual. My desire was to see His hand in the thousands of tiny things of everyday, rather than focus on the giant 'woe-is-me' circumstances of my life.

So, how'd it go? Honestly, it was one of the hardest things I've ever attempted.
It was hard to stop whatever I happened to be doing those three times during the day. (Isn't that pathetic? I mean, seriously, what on earth do I do that's more important than turning my attention to God Almighty? Who, actually, do I think I am?).
It was hard to thank Him when my heart wanted instead to stay wrapped up in my cocoon of pity. (Again, pathetic.)
And I'm embarrassed to say that my little experiment in the discipline of thankfulness only lasted about a week. But being the loving Father that He is, God did gently peel away the layers of hurt and anxiety I was feeling and the pity party ended.

I've realized that the only way to 'be thankful in all circumstances' as we are commanded is to have FAITH.
FAITH that God is in control, no matter how bleak the outlook.
FAITH that this God who is in control also loves us with an everlasting love.
FAITH that whatever suffering we are called to do in this world is NOTHING compared with the glory that awaits us.
FAITH that He is bigger than any obstacle, greater than any darkness, and that His compassion never fails.

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone! May your faith outweigh your fear!

:. tombstone .:

No, not the pizza. Not the movie. And not the town. I'm talking tombstone here, as in epitaph.

Maybe it's all the history and biographies I read that gets me to wondering what sort of legacy I'd leave, what people would say about me after I'm gone. Maybe it's hitting these middle years that causes you to evaluate your life: where you're going, what you've accomplished, what's left to do in the time allotted.

[And no, Katie, I'm not keeping something from you.]


Maybe it's the realization that every one of us will someday stand before the King of the universe and give an account of the way we've lived. Our designer clothes will be rags, the cars we've driven so proudly will be rust, our houses, our possessions, our treasures will all be a pathetic heap of ashes as we are at last before the Creator.

Gives one pause, to say the least.

Will I be remembered as someone who made a difference? or merely as someone who made some nice crafts?
Will people say, "She loved her God with her heart and soul"? or will they say, "She loved to garden"?
Will I be the woman who's remembered for her words of encouragement . . . or her sassy retorts?


There's a story in the Gospels about a woman who anointed Jesus with some very expensive perfume, a foreshadowing of His death. Those who were present grumbled about her wastefulness, but Jesus Himself praised her act, saying, "She did what she could."


Do I serve Jesus with extravagance, 'wasting' the earth's riches on my Lord and Savior?
Am I doing all I can to serve and obey Him?

At the end of the day, when I am standing before the Almighty God, I want to hear Him say,

"Well done, good and faithful servant! Enter into my joy."

What will your epitaph be?