Change of Pace

The babes are in bed, sleeping. Hubby is in his recliner. The fishies are swimming. The presents are wrapped, the stockings are stuffed. The dining room and kitchen are clean. The living room and bedroom are not. It's pouring down rain, and it is beautiful. I'm peacefully aware that this year I am making a change. I am making my mark on this little corner of the world this year.

Christmas is great and all that holly-jolly stuff. But it's so commercial. That's the part I can't stand. This year I thoughtfully picked out each gift I was to give. I was inspired as I went. I refused to feel guilted into anything. If it wasn't right, I didn't get it just so I had something to give. It's about the process to me. AND... Christmas and my birthday just feel really really lame since Mama isn't here. Who else can make you feel SOOO special than your mommy? Last year amidst unruly postpartum depression and other unfortunate chaos, I could barely make it through the holidays. Barely.

This year as I celebrate Christmas, I will not sit home and let these awful thoughts go round and round in a head they can't escape from. I can not make Mama come back. I can not change the past. But I can make a difference in the future, in the name of Jesus Christ and what better way than to leave the day after Christmas to help the folks of Pearlington, MS rebuild? I can talk till I am blue in the face. Anyone can. But instead I will hush my mouth and hush my poor-me head, and I will walk the walk. I will use my hands to rebuild and restore. I will go in the strength of my Savior alone, and I will let Him speak to me and move me and take me where He needs me. I hope for clarity but I will not seek it or wait around for it. For if I am doing the Lord's work, perhaps clarity will find me instead. I am choosing hope over fear. Reign in me, dear Lord... I am yours for the taking.