Spirit of Christmas

I've just not really been feeling much in the Christmas spirit lately.

Perhaps it's the weather, the busyness of five Christmas programs, the obnoxious "in" excelsis rather than "een" excelsis deo that is pervasive in bad pop renditions of Christmas classics, but gosh darn it, I'm feeling more like Ebenezer Scrooge lately than Santa.

That is, until tonight.

I've spent the last two days away from students (which, I swear, didn't contribute to the change of heart!) and in my house, sleeping, prepping meals and baking treats for family, and spending time with friends that real life swept away from our little corner of the earth. There's nothing like spending time with old friends who know you better than you know yourself to make you feel better. Of course, the goodbyes that drag us back to reality are always hard, but the times together are so dang good that it's worth it. Always.

I got to spend yesterday at brunch with one such friend. The updates on her life are always welcome and entertaining (my old married self has half the adventures she has) and she's just such a crafty story teller, any time spent with her leaves me with cheeks sore from smiling.

Then, I had the opportunity to host my immediate family's Christmas celebration in my house. It was the first time in the past three Christmasses that we were all together, and it was such a breath of fresh air. It was just so good to be together. Simultaneously bittersweet, since my grandfather is no longer here, though the memories of hosting that sweet man on Christmas last year (in the house for which he did so much) kept my heart warm. Good family time, wherever it happens, is such a blessing.

Today I had the good fortune to spend an extra few hours with one of my closest friends, re-live college memories together, and just get caught up on life things. With a smile and a story for everything, and a quick wit that makes my belly ache from laughter, time with her is so precious. And then, we got to cap it off with dinner and a fabulous production of A Christmas Carol with other college friends who are dear to my heart. These special get-togethers involving lots of laughter and conversation have become a little holiday tradition for us (this was our third time; so hard to believe we're that far out of college).

At the end of the night I get to come home to our little house, festively dressed in it's one row of little white lights. Our little house has brought us many an adventure, and will continue to do so, I'm sure, but has also brought such precious memories. I can't wait to see what the future holds for us in this place.

When I walk in the door, there lies my amazing husband, fast asleep on the couch, exhausted from working four 4:00am-12:30pm shifts this week. Even after six years together, he still makes my heart melt. Just the sight of him, sleeping so peacefully that he barely rouses when my clumsy self enters the room makes my heart swell in praise to God for such a man. This man who works so hard, loves me so deeply and unconditionally, and always keeps a smile on my face -- I get to have him as my husband.

Reading another dear friend's post about the real reason for Christmas left me in awe of a God who would so humble himself because of his love for me. His love for me caused Him to need a Mary, walk this earth, suffer betrayal and feel the sting of death. That my God set so many things in motion to rescue me from myself and give me the chance to be with the One who loves me most . . .

God's grace in my life just overwhelmed me tonight.

His blessings are so rich and plentiful, far more than I could ever really deserve. But He does it because He loves me. He loves me that much, and all the good things he gives me in this life are there to serve as reminders of just how much He cares for me.

So, may this holiday season cause you to take stock of God's blessings in your life. May you remember how wide and high and long and deep is the love of Christ for you, and may it cause you to glorify Him with your life.

Perhaps, in the end, that's the spirit of Christmas. Or, at least, that's the spirit I'm feeling this year.

The strongest man in the world

I'm sitting here snuggling a quilt that my grandpa made. He learned to make quilts when his legs were run over by a truck at the cement factory he worked at. The pedal on the sewing machine was good therapy for his legs, so I'm sure Grandma put him to work doing something useful. This quilt was his most treasured creation -- a postage stamp quilt, with 1.5" squares. There are hundreds of those little squares, made from fabric salvaged from old shirts of his and my late grandma's or fabric that was given to him by the people in his little town. You see, he was a rock star of sorts, because he lived to be 103, still driving to the next county to renew his driver's license when he was 101. He was known around the little town as a man who would get up on his neighbor's roof and help repair it when he was in his 90's. Stubborn to the fullest extent of the word, but with a quiet strength that kept him on the earth for these 103 wonderful years.

My grandpa was, without a doubt, one of the strongest and most wonderful men in the world. I'm sure it sounds like a sweeping generalization, but for those of us who knew him, it rings true. His approach to life was something of an inspiration -- he never seemed to worry or get stressed out, he sort of just let life happen. Even in these last two years, when his he was finally beginning to act his age, that same spirit endured.
"How are you doing, Grandpa?"
"Oh, I'm just a-going"
That was nearly always his reply. He knew that it wasn't in his control to change things or make things better or worse than they were. He knew he just had to "keep going" and do the work he's been given.

My grandpa had an ornery streak to him as well. He loved to walk by and suddenly clap his hands in my sister or my face, tease us, and play around with us. Even a month ago, when he was in the hospital, that ornery streak continued, giving the doctors and nurses (and us) a good laugh. But, he always did it with his gracious grin going from ear to ear, so we knew it was his little way of showing us just how much he cared. I think that smile is what I'll miss the most.

Anytime I heard my grandpa pray, he always ended his prayer with this line. "You've been a real good Lord, and we thank you." Despite all of the hard things he had to endure in his long life, his faith in the Lord's goodness and providence never wavered. In that way, his faith is an example to me, and I pray that my circumstances will never cause me to doubt who God is and what he does in my life, like Grandpa never allowed the things of this life to change his faith.

My earliest memories of my grandpa are of him running around outside his little house, playing ball, tag, or whatever my heart desired. In my head, he's not older than fifty, but in reality he was in his late eighties. It was his approach to life, his faith, and a dash of his stubbornness that kept him around this long, and I'm so glad I got to share so many years with him. While I'll miss him here on earth, I know he's been given a new body that is worthy of his strength and will never make him tired again. After 103 years in the same one, I'm sure he was more than ready to trade up for a better model.

Miss you so much and love you dearly, grandpa.