Thank You.

The true light that gives light to every man was coming into the world.
John 1:9

It's the last Sunday of the year, the last of my week's-end posts to summarize one seven-day slice of an ordinary life. Though this week held Christmas, it wasn't otherwise very different from most other weeks I've told you about. We spent time with family, we celebrated blessings and gifts from the Lord, we enjoyed yummy food, we changed diapers and washed dishes and folded clothes and vacuumed carpets. We woke up each morning with new mercies of God washing over us, went to sleep in our cozy bed at night with gratefulness for health, protection, and provision. We had times of weariness and times of light hearts. Small things made our hearts hurt; other small things filled us up with joy. Most weeks of this 2015 year have been much like this one. Nothing I could say would be much different from what I've been saying for a year now.

It's been a challenge to share true parts of my life with you this year, while also maintaining a healthy distance. Filtering my story through this blog, straining out the things that would be reactionary, over-dramatic, or just too raw, helped me distill the heart-juices of my year into cups of (hopefully) meaningful content. Writing in a private journal, as I did for most of my life, doesn't require that filter. For a year, it was healthy for me to pour measured doses of a filtered story. If it didn't help you, at least it helped me. I think I've learned to look at each episode of life through the lens of God's grace, to see pieces of my story as pieces of a greater Story, and to pull real truth out of an unimpressive week.

About halfway through the year, I started praying about this blog, about the writing I've found myself doing my whole life. I'm supposed to write, right? But what should I say? And to whom? And for how long? I decided that if I'm going to do this writing thing at all, it has to be for His glory. Telling my own weekly story isn't enough. Certainly it's in ordinary lives like mine that God shows His power, demonstrates His grace, and works His salvation. But a "here's my life" blog has a tendency to lean toward self-glory rather than pointing the spotlight on Him. So I'm moving in 2016 to a blog style with a slightly different focus. If you want to follow along over at ourfiftytwo.weebly.com, you'll find me reflecting on God's Word through the scripture reading plan I've designed, though of course I won't be able to help also commenting on the ways He intersects with my ordinary life in the fifty-two weeks to come.

I spent some time today reading back over some of the early posts from this year. It encouraged me to see the things God brought us through since January. And with another January coming up in just a few days, I'm able to walk forward confidently, knowing He will surround our lives in the coming year as well.

Merry Christmas.

Happy New Year.

Happy Old Year.

Happy Many Years to all who trust in the sweet Name of our Lord.

The Waiting

She will give birth to a son, and you are to give him the name Jesus, for he will save his people from their sins. 
Matthew 1:21

Capping off advent with a long Christmas vacation matches the heart of what advent celebrates: waiting. The Christ is coming. We wait. Deliverance is coming. We wait. Peace and joy are coming. We wait. And, for those working in academia, the long Christmas break is coming. We wait.

Then, when the last day arrives, when all the kids are decked in reindeer sweaters and the staff room is sugary-sweet with the cookies of a dozen generous moms, we celebrate the end of the waiting. We drive home looking forward to sixteen glorious days of sleeping in, eating pie for breakfast, ignoring our email, and curling up by the fire with library novels. Of course, if you happen to have a toddler, the "sleeping in" is somewhat relative. Nevertheless, vacation brings rest and by mid-December, we are ready for it.

This weekend already kicked off the celebrations as we joined Pete's family for Christmas dinner and gift exchange. Henry ate too many cookies, played all day with his cousins, and finally learned to say all of their names (though Charlotte is merely "Ha-ha"). We are on cloud nine with this December's Christmas break.

So as I'm celebrating the arrival of one thing waited-for, I'm encouraged to notice the things we're still waiting for. All of us. An end to violence and fear and danger. The dissolution of all countries and kingdoms. A time when money and paperwork and calendars are no longer needed. The day when our Lord fully and finally saves us from this whole sin-soaked world. A greeting with our Savior to pale all the Christmas greetings we've ever enjoyed. The 2015 advent season will soon be over. But we will still be waiting through the advent preceding his return.

We've welcomed the restfulness of Christmas break, and there are only four days of advent left until we celebrate Jesus's first coming. I think a long, sweet, cinnamony Christmas vacation is a little taste of the perfect rest that will come when the long, long second Advent of Christ is over, when He comes again. For that, we continue to wait expectantly.

Reasons to be Grateful: Dec 7 - 13

I will be like the dew to Israel; he will blossom like a lily. 
Hosea 14:5

You know in middle school when you go on a class retreat and they have you find a partner and do "trust falls?" This week was our trust fall. The two things we've been looking forward to, with equal parts dread and excitement, happened back to back this week: Pete's surgery on Tuesday, followed by three days of at-home recovery during which our new roof was put on. Both were successful and incident-free. A new knee ligament and a roof-ful of new hunter green shingles, and we're rolling steadily toward Christmas and the new year with the things we'd hoped for safely tucked in our belts.

It feels dangerous to brag about God's goodness in a week like this. As if He might yank the rug out from under us next week with a car wreck or a sudden loss. But proclaiming His faithfulness today makes it no less true when he allows for the next trial. He is good. His goodness showed this week in affirmative answers to prayers, in solutions to material problems, in provision for practical needs. It could show next week in an unasked-for struggle that forces us to draw nearer to Him. It's not my place to speculate about what's around the bend. So for today, I praise Him for seeing us through a tangle of circumstances to the smooth road on the other side.

I'll make my gratefulness specific: 

We didn't encounter any traffic or delays on our way to the hospital on Tuesday morning.

Our wait in the prep room was pleasant, even though it was an hour longer than expected.

Henry was well-behaved for his morning spent with my mom at her school.

I had a stellar book with me which wholly occupied my attention for the three-hour wait in the lobby.

Friends and relatives checked in via text and email throughout the day, assuring us that they were praying.

Pete's immediate post-op recovery was easy, even enjoyable. He said he felt like Adam, coming to life.

Nurses were kind and patient.

The pharmacy was able to fill the prescriptions for pain meds and antibiotics right away, when we stopped on the way home.

My mom stayed throughout the evening following surgery, as I prepared dinner, cared for Pete, and attended to Henry.

We had three perfect days of weather for roofing.

The roofers were safe and found nothing unexpected in the course of the job. 

My birthday was spent at home with my recovering husband, but my dad also came over for the day to give me an extra hand. Therefore, I spent the day with the three men I love most: my dad, my husband, and my little boy.

Henry loved watching the roofers (the "meeh," meaning "men") go "up, up, up" and work on the roof.

Without making time for a full-fledged grocery shopping trip, we still had plenty of food in the house for a week of meals.

Our eight ice trays made it easy to freeze enough ice for Pete's wound-cooling ice water pump machine.

The first batch of a prayer card project I've been planning for a while is completed.

I'm grateful for all these things, and more. I'm grateful for a God who cares about details. Reading Hosea 14 this week was also a boost for my soul, an encouraging description of the God who heals and loves. In trouble and in blessing, we lean on the One who brings blossoms, shoots, roots, splendor, fragrance, shade, flourishing, and fruitfulness. When the dew of His Spirit sparkles in our hearts, we can expect Him to bring life-changing growth.

There are a few weeks left in this set of fifty-two. I'm looking forward to seeing what God does with them in my life. Are you open to see what He might do in yours?

Comfort and Joy: Nov 30 - Dec 6

Sing to the Lord, for he has done glorious things; let this be known to all the world.
Isaiah 12:5

Isaiah 12 should be an easy chapter to read. It's a simple song of praise to God for His character, His kindness, His works, and His greatness.

But every time I came to it this week, my eyes glazed over a little bit. For me, this is not an ideal Christmas season. My husband has knee surgery this week. Our house is getting re-roofed sometime in the next ten days or so. The costs of several monthly bill payments have gone up. We have decisions to make and long-term outcomes to consider, events to schedule and things to buy and conversations to anticipate. I've actually had nightmares about being on the Titanic as it's sinking.

"I will trust and not be afraid," say the verses from Isaiah 12. But that can feel a little nebulous when there's so much that seems worthy of fearing. Romans 15 takes it further. "As you trust in him," Paul says, the God of hope will fill you with joy and peace.

Joy and peace. Christmas ornament words. Christmas card sentiments. Real life experiences?

Between the crunch of finances, the filled-up calendar, the social media expectations, and the social reality let-downs, December is probably the last month of the year that should be labeled with the words joy and peace. Wreaths decorated with the words disappointed and anxious wouldn't sell as well, but they might be more realistic.

Yet somehow, we're promised peace and joy. In this season, and in every season. But peace and joy don't just sneak up on us when we're worried, frustrated, or envious. They aren't waiting to pounce. They're waiting to be found. Peace and joy come from trusting. Trusting. The action that seems like inaction, but is actually the most conscious and intentional thing we do, because fretting is what we do best and avoiding it is an active choice.

So when we trust - when I trust - instead of being afraid, instead of comparing and wallowing and complaining, we are finally freed to find peace. We discover that it's possible to feel joy. Trusting doesn't have to feel vague. It's the act of silencing the thoughts that creep in when someone else's life looks better than mine, the act of choosing not to whine about yet another unexpected setback, the act of walking into a new week with a smile instead of a wince, the act of sharing.

When we do these things, we find that peace and joy are not far behind. And following them? Hope.

Romans 15 says that once we've found the joy and peace that come from trusting, we will soon find ourselves overflowing with hope. While we're counting down the days of advent, checking off the last twenty-some days of 2015, hope can rise in us, filling up the places that were once pockets of self-pity or doubt or even anger.

Tonight, at the close of this week, I read Isaiah 12 again. Finally, I saw hope there.

"I will praise you, O Lord.
Although you were angry with me, your anger has turned away and you have comforted me.
Surely God is my salvation; I will trust and not be afraid." 

God's anger - the anger He righteously had for my sins and yours - has turned away. It has turned onto His Son. Instead of acting on His anger toward me, He redirects anger toward Christ and aims comfort toward me. Whatever comes into my story is an extension, somehow, of this comfort, of this goodness. This is why I can trust. This is why I can hope. This is hope. Salvation comes. Bottomless wells of it. Comfort comes. Joy comes. Good tidings come. And these are the things I choose to decorate with this December: the things that can be written on a postcard, but are best written on a heart.