My dear friend, Joy, whom I’ve been friends with since we were babies, has had her baby boy. Little Jackson made his entrance into the world yesterday, and I couldn’t be happier for Joy and her husband, Jamin. They’ve been waiting for this little guy for a long time!

Click here to go see a couple of pictures. For all you that know her, make sure you leave a comment for her. I know she’d love to hear from you.

Congratulations, Joy! He’s beautiful.

Christmastime is here again. I know that is not news to anyone. We’ve been bombarded with Christmas sales, Christmas decorations, and all of the ho ho ho we can stomach since before Halloween. You would have to be deaf, dumb, and blind to not know Christmastime is here again.

I guess I could be accused of some grinch-like tendencies this year. I’ve not had much Christmas cheer this year. I could blame part of it on the insane semester that just ended. School drained me of all energies or motivation that I normally summon up to decorate the living room, put up a tree, and send out Christmas cards. I didn’t do any of those things. I haven’t put much effort into shopping around for Christmas presents. I went one evening and bought presents for only those people closest to me. I’m sorry if you are my great aunt once removed’s first husband’s oldest daughter. You won’t be getting anything from me this year. Don’t feel too badly, though. I barely bought my kids Christmas presents.

The number of gifts my kids received wasn’t due to the lack of energy and motivation that prevented me from doing all of the dutiful, traditional things I opted out of this year, though. That was because of the sick feeling I got in my stomach every time I went to Walmart. It was the way my stomach turned over when the kids saw a 30 second commercial and were suddenly aware of their great need for some dinky toy they had never heard of before and weren’t sure what it was. I’m kind of sick of it all. I kind of just planned on skipping the decorations and the presents, and just focus on the family togetherness.

Therein lies a problem. Chris has to work on Christmas Eve AND Christmas Day. Not much togetherness when one is punching the clock. It stinks when he has to work on holidays. It happens more often than not. So, yesterday, we let the kids have their Christmas gifts, so that Chris could be there to play with them. The big kids loved their new video game system, and they each got a game for it. That’s all. There were no stocking stuffers. There were no B level gifts. You know, the filler things to go along with the gift they were really hoping for. You know what else? There were no toys discarded in the corner that they forgot they opened. There was no pushing aside of present number one to get to present number two through thirteen. They had one gift. They loved it, and they were happy. Owen got one toy as well, and he’s been playing with it ever since. It works for me.

So, for our Christmas together, that was the extent of it. Tomorrow, Chris will go to work, and the kids and I will make a few stops…dinner with my family at my brother’s house, then a Christmas Eve service at church, and maybe a stop at Chris’ family’s…and Chris will come home after it’s all over with. Tuesday, we’ll go to my aunt’s house for Christmas dinner, while Chris goes to work. I started to feel a little sorry for myself that I didn’t get to have Christmas dinner with my husband and that the kids didn’t get to open their gifts with him on the actual day. I started to, but, then, I had to stop and realize how silly that was…to feel sorry for myself amidst so many blessings.

Christmas with my husband is important to me and all, but, really, whether he has to work or not, he’s coming home at night. If he didn’t, I’d still see him the next day. He may miss Christmas dinner, but we will see each other on Christmas, if only for a few waking  hours. In that few hours together, my Christmas is better than so many families’ Christmases this year. When you carve your turkey or slice your ham…when you open your gifts with your family around you…when you kiss your beloved under the mistletoe…remember that you are blessed. Remember that their are many families celebrating the holiday without their husbands and their fathers…without their wives and mothers…without their sons and daughters.

In Iraq and Afghanistan, men and women are opening packages from home, and wishing they were opening the homemade gift their son made in Sunday School. They are smelling the Christmas card to see if it happens to have a trace of home in it. They are wishing with everything in them that they could hold their families for even a minute.  In homes around our country, wives are going through the motions of Christmas without Daddy. Pasting on a smile when they really just want to skip the holiday. Children are anticipating Christmas Day while saying, “if only Daddy were here” for the hundredth time, breaking their mama’s heart with each “if only”. Husbands are clumsily wrapping the gifts that their wife instructed them to buy, knowing that their efforts, though valiant, are nothing like Mommy does. The flag on the mantel is a blatant reminder that a precious son will never be home for Christmas. You see, whether it’s honor or duty or pride that sends someone to war, those things don’t erase the pain of separation. They don’t make the nights less lonely. They don’t wrap their arms around you on Christmas morning. These are real people. Real moms and dad and sons and daughters. Their absence this Christmas leaves a gaping hole.

As we try not to be overcome with the giving of token gifts or the overburdening of finding the perfect gift for the ones who really matter…and as we keep in mind the Gift that we are supposed to be remembering…let us also remember the gift that we Americans have been given. A gift of service and sacrifice. It’s not trivial. It lasts a lot longer than the Christmas season. It’s a gift wrought with pain and tears in the best of circumstances. Don’t forget these families. Don’t forget this gift. Pray for them.

Remember.

Hey, everyone. I just wanted to give a plug for my husband’s new blog. He is new to blogging. I’ve been trying to get him to start a blog for months and months. Now that he has, I’m a little scared. I hope he will be on his best behavior. I think he intends to blog about the theological, the political, the sports related, and anything else as the Spirit moves. So, check him out.

He’s blogging at Unbounded Words.

**Disclaimer: While I am promoting his blog, I refuse to be held accountable for anything rude, offensive, or arrogant he may say. He IS a Baptist preacher, you know. Just remember, I always have been and always will be WAY nicer than him.

I’m so psyched. I just got an email from my Comp II professor saying that I got a 98 on my Hamlet research paper, and I got a 99 on my in class essay that served as our final for the class. I can’t express how happy that makes me. Hamlet was kicking my butt for three weeks, but I so rocked that paper.

Yes, this is an extremely self-satisfied grin on my face. I made it through that awful semester, and I did well. I no longer have a 4.0 GPA, but I still did well. So, two B’s and two A’s…I’m happy with that.

Last night, I went to a ladies Christmas dinner at church. I was undecided about whether to go or not for several weeks. I wasn’t sure if I would have someone to watch the kids, I was afraid maybe I would end up sitting with people I didn’t know, and I procrastinated paying my part and committing myself to go. After several people encouraged me to come, I decided to go. I’m so glad I did. Not only did I have lots of fun and really enjoy the fellowship with the other ladies, but I was really very blessed by being there.

The special speaker for the evening was Mrs. Paula Hodges. She spoke to us about loving the Lord with all of our hearts. She recounted some of her experiences working on the mission field in the Dominican Republic, and she told of working with children in a Christian school. She told us a story about singing to her class to settle them down for the Bible hour. She said she was singing the lyrics, “I love you, Lord, with all my heart”, and, each time she sang the words, she heard the Lord asking, “Do you really?” As she spoke to us, I heard the Lord asking me, “Do you really?” Mrs. Hodges challenged us to love the Lord with all our hearts. She challenged us to serve him in 2008…to do more for Him than we did this year. She also expressed to us the need to teach our children to love Him. I can’t express to you how much this message gripped my heart. It was for me. If no one else got anything from what she said, I did.

Her text for the night was from Deuteronomy 6:5-7 :

You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your might. And these words that I command you today shall be on your heart. You shall teach them diligently to your children, and shall talk of them when you sit in your house, and when you walk by the way, and when you lie down, and when you rise.

Friends, my heart is challenged. I want to love the Lord with all of my heart. Mrs. Hodges pointed out that if we truly loved Him with all of our hearts, we would do anything He asked us to do. I want to present myself to God as a holy and acceptable sacrifice. I want to offer myself to Him to use anyway He wants to use me. I want to serve Him because I love Him. I want to love Him more than I do now. I want to teach my children to love Him. I think, a lot of times, we teach them to fear Him, to obey Him, but I don’t know that I’ve been teaching my kids to love Him.

I truly desire to do more for God in 2008. I want to serve Him. I want to love Him with all my heart. I want to teach my children to love Him. He’s so good to me. He has given me an unspeakable treasure in the three beautiful children He’s blessed me with. I don’t want to take that for granted. I want to raise them to be servants of God who follow Him and serve Him out of a passionate love for Him.

I want to love Him with all my heart.

While I have often joked this past semester about how my kids are so neglected that they have to take care of themselves, I’m actually kind of proud of their level of self-sufficiency. They get their own snacks. Kyra (who’s five and a half) can pour them all drinks, only needing me to snap shut the lids of their sippy cups. Elijah (who’s approaching four years old) can make his own peanut butter and honey sandwiches. Owen (who’s one and a half), carries a stool around with him to reach the cereal bars on the counter, and brings them to me to open. Yeah, most moms would just do those things for them, but sometimes I’m busy. I appreciate that they can meet some of their own needs, or that they can help take care of each other.

Putting that self-sufficiency into practice, for lunch this afternoon, they wanted some chicken noodle soup. So, they got their bowls out, their spoons, and got the can of soup. I popped the lid off of it, and poured it into their bowls for them. I helped Kyra microwave them, and then I fixed a bowl of salad for myself. After they finished their soup, they both decided they wanted salad. They got a stool, got their own plates, got their own salad, and put their own dressing on it all by themselves. Kyra had to help Elijah get the lid off the dressing, though.

After they had brought their plates to the table and were eating their salads, I said, “You guys do such a good job taking care of yourselves. You don’t even need a Mommy.”

Kyra looked at me with such a sweet look that I knew she was fixing to tell me how they need me for things like love and affection, as well. Instead, she raised one eyebrow and said, “Mommy. We need you to clean the kitchen and the bathroom, too.”

Oh, well. Good to know I’m needed.

As I was getting out of the shower, I heard Owen rattling silverware in the kitchen like he is prone to do when no one is watching. Then, I heard Kyra and Elijah coming upstairs. When they got to the top of the stairs, I heard one of them say, “Mama, what are you cooking?”

I thought, They think Owen rattling silverware is me cooking lunch for them.

Right about then, they rounded the corner into the kitchen, and I heard two little kids bust into uncontrollable laughter. They giggled and giggled, and then Elijah said, “Mama is OWEN!”

For the next five minutes, they recreated the event. They must have thought it was really funny.

First, you get a good hold on your opponent. Don’t worry if he’s bigger and stronger. If you get the right hold on him, he’s done for. Then, you…whoah, whoah…aaahhh!!!

Don’t worry if your opponent flips you over his head. All is not lost.

Even if your faces turns red and then purple from the blood being forced from your extremities and into your head, you still have a chance. As long as your opponent plays fair, you can still….yeeeouch!

While against the rules, some opponents may cheat and bring in tag team partners. However, all is not lost. Just keep control of your breathing, and…oh, man.

It was the little guy that did me in. My butt has been kicked.

** These photos brought to you by Kyra Joy.

So, on the way to the scope test I had done today, I had an interesting conversation with my husband and best friend. I remind you ahead of time, just as I’ve told you before, that my husband is warped. That’s all.

Me: “Chris, when we get to your mom’s, can you take the kids in by yourself so I can stay out here and pray with Amy?”

Chris: “Pray with Amy? Why do you have to do that? In case you die when you get scoped?”

Me: “Yes. That’s exactly why.”

Amy, on the phone with me: “That’s horrible.”

Chris: “Her  praying with you won’t help anything. ‘As it is appointed unto man once to die, and, after this, the judgement.’ If it’s your time, Rachel, it’s your time.”

Me: “Amy, he says if it’s my appointed time, it’s my appointed time.”

Amy: “Tell him you’re going to make an appointment for him.”

Me, laughing: “Chris, she says I should make an appointment for you.”

Chris, not amused: “That’s just silly. It’s not funny.”

Me: “Oh, it’d be funny if you had said it.”

Amy, laughing.

Me: “Amy, he’s not amused. He only thinks it’s funny when he’s the one who says things like that.”

Pulling up to an intersection in the rain, Chris looks at the oncoming traffic from both directions.

Chris: “We’re never going to get across. If I gun it, my tires will spin.”

Me: “Yeah. Then we’ll all die.”

Chris: “If it’s our appointed time, we will.”

Me: “What if it’s not our appointed time.”

Chris: “Then we may just all end up as vegetables.”

Me: “That would be horrible. Amy, if we all end up as vegetables, will you come down here and pull the plugs for us.”

Amy, singing, “Broccoli. Celery.”

Me, laughing, then turning serious, “Amy, honey. If ever Chris calls and tells you I’ve been in an accident and am in a vegetative state, you just keep him on the phone, get in the car, and drive here as fast as you can.”

Amy laughs.

Me: “No, I’m serious. We’ve had this conversation before. I don’t trust him. His definition of no chance of survival and mine may be different.”

Chris: “Hey, if I pull the plug and it’s not your appointed time, God will keep you alive.”

Me: “See, Amy! See!”

Amy, using her ‘Chris voice’: “La la la. Oops. Oh, sorry. I tripped over this plug.”

I whimper.