Adventures in Prayer: Prayer of Relinquishment
Ok, got to be honest. This response is too tender to display for the world to see. Drop me a line under “contact” and I’d be happy to share it with you. 🙂
Bless you & thanks for reading!
K
Adventures in Prayer: The Prayer of Tears
Foster’s Chapter 4 (click there to read) is entitled the Prayer of Tears. Essentially, he is speaking of the essence of having a broken and contrite heart before God. What stood out to me in this chapter was the difference between simply being sad over things (nothing very spiritual about that!) and being sad over the things that God is sad about. Just this morning in my quiet time I read about Esau getting gypped out of his birthright and his blessing. He was sure sad over that! He wept and wept. But these are not the kind of tears that Foster is talking about. Esau’s sorrow was entirely wrapped up in his self and his loss and his wants. What Foster urges us (through innumerable passages of Scripture, I might add) is to ache and hurt and weep and mourn over the things that break the heart of God.
I get glimpses of this. I know, however, that I have not even come close to scratching the surface of understanding what this means. Sorrow hits me when I see a tragedy. For example, we have been praying for some little baby twins that were born prematurely. We prayed and prayed that God would let them live, but yesterday we received word that they’d died. That grieved my heart. And it grieved God’s heart too, I know. But the biggest offense against the love and holiness and righteousness of God is our sin.
I know enough to know that I cannot bring this broken and contrite heart upon myself. So as I sat and read this chapter, I wondered, “How is one supposed to do this?” Thankfully, Foster anticipates that and gives helpful, practical advice. Basically ask, then confess our sin, specifically, then receive the forgiveness of God, then obey (the evidence of repentance).
So, by way of response and application, this morning I confessed. Self-centeredness, scheming to get my own way, holding tightly onto things that God wants relinquished, demanding my own way, pleasing man rather than God, having critical thoughts in my heart toward others, pride, arrogance, vanity, impatience, having critical thoughts in my heart toward others (hey, some of these come up more than once!), scheming and not letting Jeff be the leader of our household, taking matters into my own hands, being short with my immediate family, having a me-first attitude, being focused on the things of earth more than things above, being obsessed with myself—my life and dislikes and preferences, not being sorrowful over my sin, and being critical of others in my heart.
What I want to emphasize here, in my response to this chapter, is that it does no one any good to be fake about this. I can sit here and write nice flowery, sad-sounding words about how horrible it is that our sin separates us from God and that our world has basically shaken its fist at God and turned from Him altogether. But if I were to do that, and not truly grieve in my heart, then I’m just committing a worse offense—hypocrisy. What my prayer is right now is that God would truly, authentically make us weep over our sin. NOT because it causes uncomfortable circumstances or even that it hurts other people, but that it hurts God and blasphemes His holiness. I pray that God would take my heart and make it break for the things His breaks for. I don’t want to be an Esau, I want to be like Jesus, like Paul, like Moses, who wept over the world’s condition before God. I’m certainly not there yet, so I pray God would change my heart, that I can know this Prayer of Tears.
Adventures in Prayer: The Prayer of Examen
In Chapter 3, (Click there to read), Foster talks about the “Prayer of Examen.” David cried out this prayer in Psalm 139:23-24: “Search me, O God, and know my heart; test me and know my thoughts. See if there is any wicked way in me and lead me in the way everlasting.” Our little comfortable, Christian culture does not like this sort of prayer. The ironic thing is that we are all into introspection, but not into God-introspection. We like to dig into our hearts and see all the hurts and wounds but don’t want God to expose the sin and selfishness. What Foster explains though is that this is not a dreadful thing but “something of immeasurable strength and empowerment.”
The first part of this prayer, the examen of consciousness, is where we reflect on how God has moved and revealed Himself to us throughout our day. This is so lacking! Yesterday, I had a remarkable encounter with my mom and my aunt where God simply showed up. It was so miraculously wonderful, it was as if God took a knife and cut through a veil of deception, despair, and confusion. It blesses God when we meditate on these things! The more we practice this, this calling to remembrance, the more our spiritual eyes will be open to see things throughout the entire day. As I began writing this, I stopped after that last sentence and decided to wait a day before finishing this reflection, to see if that last sentence was true, to see if by being more conscious of God’s activity in life my life would be more sacredly lived.
It was true. Yesterday I had one of the sweetest mommyhood experiences. I rarely am home alone with Dutch, but yesterday I was. Jeff had meetings and Mom and Dad were running errands. We played, but mostly I worked on “stuff”, typical mommy stuff like planning meals and balancing the checkbook. But then, I realized that I was missing out on a rare and sweet opportunity with my boy. I put away my busyness and took Dutch in my arms and put my favorite worship CD, Robbie Seay Band, into the little stereo. And then we danced and danced and sang and worshipped God. Worshipping God with my son seemed to open my heart like it hadn’t been for a while. I cried and cried, partly just over things I’d been struggling and wrestling with, partly over longings and aches, partly in joy of how sweet it was to hold my precious son. During a particular slow song as I cried, he rested is head against my chest and just rested in my arms (that in and of itself was a miracle for my busy little boy!). It was truly a sacred moment and I was so overwhelmed and thankful to God that I’d gotten to experience it. But it was this type of prayer, the prayer of examen, and specifically the examen of consciousness that triggered my thoughts to be more aware of God moving throughout my day. It wasn’t some huge event, but it was special and sacred.
The second type of prayer of examen is the examen of conscience. Here we ask God to search us and know us. I’ve been praying this as well. One cool thing is that I can see God doing this quickly. Last night, I had a rotten attitude about several things. As soon as I sat down to class last night, I was reminded of this and a wave of truth, and conviction flooded over me. I knew, I repented, and it was over! God is so soft and tender and loving. He is so gentle. Since it wasn’t something I’d outwardly done to someone, I only confessed it to Jeff and purposed that today I would respond better. And this morning, after going to God in prayer, He did give me the grace to be better, to have a better attitude, and to breathe grace better than I had done the day before. It’s a small example, but I can see this working out in my own life. My prayer is that I would have a short account with God, that my heart would be so soft and yielded and tender that He would be able to immediately bring things to mind, that they would swiftly be taken care of, rather than piles and piles of undealt-with junk cluttering my heart. That is my prayer.
Adventures in Prayer: Prayer of the Forsaken
In Chapter 2 (click there for a link to the book, then search for chapter 2), Foster talks about the kind of prayer that Jesus offered on the cross, “My God, My God, why has thou forsaken me?” Though I am not in the middle of such a season of prayer, I have known it more than once. I can think of two specific seasons where this type of prayer characterized my prayer life. The truths that carried me through, that Foster reiterates, are these: This season of aloneness, of silence, of nothingness, are not because God is displeased with me or that I have committed some horrendous offense against heaven. In fact, the two times I have keenly experienced this have been after making significant decisions to deny myself and follow Jesus. One such experience was in San Jose, when the world had fallen down around us. That was by far the darkest night of my soul, to use Saint John’s language. Heaven was iron. There were no responses. And yet, as Foster explains and I have found to be true, it does pass. That season was for nine months, and then some of the most glorious blessings followed. The other season was just this Fall, when we’d moved in with my parents and things weren’t good with Jeff and me and I was coming apart at the seams. Nothing seemed to offer any solace and there seemed no good outcome to our circumstance. That too passed. We still live here, but my heart has changed and Jeff and I, by the grace of God, have flourished once again in our marriage—even more so than before.
Foster calls this season “The Purifying Silence.” Though we often cannot tell, even afterward, exactly what God’s reasons were for His prolonged silence, we can often see a spiritual growth afterward that is unrecognizable in the middle of the storm. The further we get from the incident, the more clear it is. We are now just beginning to see the fruit of some of those dark nights of our souls in San Jose, and I am just now (even today!) beginning to get glimpses of the ways that God is changes, purifying, testing, and deepening our faith during this time.
What is beautiful about these seasons is that we realize that we truly realize that we cannot manage God. As Foster says, “God refused to jump when I said, “Jump!” Neither by theological acumen nor by religious technique could I conquer God. God was, in fact, to conquer me” (p22). The beauty of unanswered prayer, and of silence, and even of suffering is that we cannot control or manipulate God. And though our wicked hearts can want to at times, there is such a greater, more profoundly abiding peace when we recognize our true place in HIS plans and HIS purposes. This deepens my simple prayer.
Lastly, I loved Foster’s discussion of the “Prayer of Complaint.” As he says, “This form of prayer has largely been lost in our modern, sanitized religion, but the Bible abounds in it … The ancient singers (in the psalms) really know how to complain” (p23). This really struck me. I seldom complain in my prayers but often complain in my heart! How backwards is that? If I had a problem with Jeff (not even something he’d done wrong but just a problem), and I talked to everyone else about it (and myself) but not him, how ridiculous is that? But we do that with God. He would rather have honest complaining lovers than pious, proud, hypocritical religious people. My conclusion through all this is that I purpose to be honest with God and to wait patiently on God. When He is silent, He is still God. I can complain and pour out my heart and draw near to Him, but understand that He is in no obligation to respond to my beck and call. When He sees fit, in His infinite love and abounding wisdom, He will hear my call and come near. He’s promised He will.
Adventures in Prayer: Simple Prayer
This term, Jeff and I are taking a Spiritual Formation class called “Prayer.” I’m anticipating it with joy and dread at the same time. I want to pray so much but feel so scared of failure because I’ve never felt successful in that area. Well I’m getting started on our reading, since we start class next week, and one of our texts is Prayer: Finding the Heart’s True Home by Richard J. Foster. I’d recommend it for sure! For each chapter I read I am assigned to write a 2-page response on how it impacted me. I’m going to share these with you. If you’d like to get the book and read it too it’d be fun to do together. In fact, you can click here and it’ll take you to the book online at Amazon and you can read the chapter there (search for “chapter 1”, etc.). I’d love to hear your insights as well. But even if you don’t have the book, hopefully the reflections will still connect our hearts. Here is Chapter 1:
My greatest spiritual desire and goal is to become a woman of prayer. Every New Year’s my spiritual goal is to pray more. While I love and flourish at reading my Bible and can easily pass away hours digging into its truths, I fail miserably in the department of prayer. In the past, during a time when I lived by check-off lists and dos and don’ts of spirituality, I prayed for hours, but it was more of a check-list of people and their concerns and pushing through on my knees at 5am with clenched teeth. It wasn’t a joyful thing or a power-producing thing or an intimacy-promoting thing with the Father.
Now my spiritual life doesn’t look like that. Now I actually like God. J But now that I’m not motivated by lists and rules, my time in alone, quiet, daily focused prayer is practically non-existant. I talk to God a lot. I talk to Him while I drive or walk or when I’m sad or hurting or struggling, but most days I rarely sit down and have a concentrated prayer time.
I was moved deeply by Foster’s use of the home as an illustration of entering the Father’s heart through prayer. As anyone of my friends could tell you, I am longing for a home so bad right now it’s like there’s an agonizing ache in my heart. Today we went and looked at a new home in our town, which is a slight possibility for down the road. It was so amazingly perfect for what we hope for (to be able to use it for ministry, etc) that it moved me to tears. But, we are not now in the position to buy it. So, I give that to my Lord and He brings me to this book, and speaks to me that as I oohed and awed over the kitchen and living room and office for Jeff to study in and beautiful master bedroom, he wants me to explore the home of His heart and drink of its pleasures. There is nothing quite like the word “home” that can reach that far into my heart right now. I believe the timing of this book is divine.
The first chapter of this book was like a shot of hope. I am at the stage of simple prayer, to be sure. But what was so freeing was that that’s ok! As Foster said, I feel like there is a chasm between me and “real” praying. As CS Lewis said, “Lay before Him what is in us, not what ought to be in us.” With this difficult situation of living with my parents, having no money, and both being in seminary full-time, I’ve poured out my heart so many times to God, and felt so often that my complaints, hurts, frustrations, impatience, was somehow not what I should be lifting to God. But it is!
One of the major obstacles I struggle with at this point is that I know that beloved ACTS model of prayer and so, like an obedient ACTS-er, I start with adoration and try to think of as many character qualities of God as I can. But somehow, I begin to drift somewhere between there and the next step, confession, and I never even make it to Supplication. So, then I feel frustrated. Or, I get 10 minutes into prayer and I’m so spiritual exhausted that the thought of another 20 minutes is more than I can handle. It’s like those long-distance runners who say that after the first 30 minutes you get your 2nd wind and then it all gets easier. Well, I can’t run long enough to get my second wind! I run 25 minutes and I’m done. So, I loved what Foster said about being honest with God when we’re tired. He said we can tell God, “I must have rest, I have no strength to be with you at this time.” I couldn’t believe when I read that! Is that ok to say to God? I suppose it’s much better than just walking away and leaving Him hanging? I have no trouble doing that with exercise. When I begin a new workout, I’m weak, my muscles haven’t gotten used to the new intensity, so it takes time. So after reading this chapter, I sat here on my bed, with my eyes open and talked to God about how the chapter made me feel, what I loved about the house we looked at today, and told Him how much I loved Him and wanted to trust Him for our future, even when I got scared and impatient. That was all. Maybe five minutes. But I think He was listening and I think I’ll be back for more …
New Year's Resolutions
I’ve heard a lot of people say, “I don’t believe in New Year’s Resolutions.” Well, that’s fine. But I do. Not that I’m a believer in trying to make ourselves perfect or better somehow in our own strength, but I think that Christian walk is a series of new beginnings, and what better time for a new beginning than at the beginning of a new year? So, I usually do make New Year’s goals, things that I pray through and ask God to work in me as I partner with Him by obedience and submission to Him. Today I read through my 2007 New Year’s Resolutions and was tremendously encouraged to see that God HAD done awesome work in those areas. My 2007 New Year’s Resolutions were:
- Maintain weekly date night with Jeff
- Maintain weekly Me-time
- Play with Dutch everyday & teach him something everyday
- Read 25 books, half of which nourish my spirit, all of which stimulate my mind
- Exercise at least 3 days/week
- Read Word, pray, and journal daily
- Make Dutch’s scrapbook
- Send pics of Dutch to grandparents every other week
Yes, sometimes Jeff and my date nights are no more than a scrabble game and a cup of tea once Dutch is in bed, but hey, we’re still in love and communicating and spending time together, so to me that’s success. I can’t say I journal daily, but I’ve been writing in this blog a lot and that counts for something. Dutch’s scrapbook isn’t finished, but it’s almost 1/2 way done and that’s a miracle to me, so all in all, I’m thrilled and thankful to God for this wonderful past year. This year’s goals have more to do with my character and my heart than before. My goal this year is to love more. So 2008 New Year Resolutions are:
- Be less critical/sarcastic/judgmental (Luke 6:37)
- Be more gracious toward Jeff/Mom/Dad (Col 3:13)
- Do not worry about money (Matt 6:33)
- Pray more (at least 15 minutes of my morning quiet times)
And, I have two New Year’s Hopes. These things aren’t entirely in my control, but I hope to see them happen.
- Move into a home of our own
- Finish writing Eva, my first attempt at a novel.
That’s it. Yes, I want to continue to exercise and read books and eat healthy and finish Dutch’s scrapbook, but those things are likely going to happen naturally. My heart is what needs the work, and so this year I’m praying that God will make me quicker to listen and slower to speak, quicker to accept, slower to judge, quicker to pray, slower to act. To love more: That is my prayer for 2008.
Love More
Wow. Sometimes you hear one of those messages at church that just kicks your teeth in (in the best sort of way!). Today was one of those days. It was the final message in Pastor Dale’s series on Restoring Christmas, and this one was entitled, Love More. Wow. Love cannot be talked about enough I think, and he presented three ways that we can promote the growth of love in our lives. First, our love grows when we forgive. This part was encouraging because God has done some awesome work in my heart in this area. But what stuck out to me was that even when we forgive we can still experience a lot of pain from the circumstance. I’ve really only had one situation in my life where I struggled with a major hurt and extending forgiveness. And even now, I can honestly say that I’ve forgiven–completely and totally forgiven, but sometimes my mind will wander, when I’m in the shower or cooking dinner or going for a walk, and if I don’t harness my thoughts, they will naturally go into the whole situation again and I could let myself feel all those emotions and relive the whole thing. There is absolutely nothing beneficial about this–so I choose, each and every time, to refuse to think about it, to refuse to let my mind go there. What’s done is done and the punishment has been poured out on my precious Savior on the cross. There is no need for me to relive past painful things. CHrist died to set us free. My final thought on this topic was that the true litmus test for evaluating whether I am truly freed from the hurt is determining whether I can truly and honestly rejoice in that person’s blessing, joy, and prosperity. If I honestly can, praise God–that is authentic evidence that my heart is free. If I cannot, then that is evidence that there’s still work to be done. I pray that I, and that we all, let God do that work in our hearts so we can honestly rejoice in the good of those who have injured us.
Secondly, our love grows when we accept others. This point had two nuggets that really stuck out to me. First, he talked about the fact that love does not need to be right. Yes, we are to stand up for truth, but we are first and foremost to seek to understand each other. Love always seeks FIRST to understand before it seeks to be understood. Pow. That hit me. I always want to be understood–and so as long as that remains my primary motive, I will miss out on loving and understanding and accepting others. We need to accept people instead of being right. This doesn’t mean we are theologically wishy washy (Jesus wasn’t!) but it means we accept others and love them even if we don’t agree. Also, we accept that others are flawed. It’s ok! Colossians 3:13 says “Make allowances for other’s faults.” I am so guilty of expecting Jeff to do everything perfect and anticipate needs and read my mind. I do the same with my parents. I’ll write more on my New Year’s Resolutions later, but one big area I’m asking God to help me grow is in being more gracious toward others making more room for lack, the same way I hope others will do for me!
Lastly, our love grows as we choose to love others. Love, of course, is a choice. So, the banner of my New Year’s Resolutions this year is “Love More.” I will flesh out that into more concrete goals and resolutions, but my prayer is that in 2008 I would be a woman who is characterized by love and grace. God has given us a spirit of love (2 Timothy 1:7) and I pray He would help me grow in it.
Precious People
We are truly blessed indeed. At the close of each year, we all become a little more reflective. I am in awe of the richness that God has given us in our relationships. As we drove home from Bend, Mom and Dad went their own way and headed to the beach for 3 days to celebrate their 37th wedding anniversary (way to go, Mom and Dad! Thank you for still being married and loving each other so much!). So, Jeff and I and Dutch blared our favorite worship music (Robbie Seay band) and sang at the top of our lungs as we drove home through the slushy valley snowfall. When we got home, we decided that Dutch had been SUCH a trooper, stuck in the car for 4+ hours without a complaint, that we skipped unloading the car and decided we’d do nothing but play with Dutch from then until his next nap time. We pulled on our sweats, turned on the pellet stove and got the house toasty warm while I warmed up some lentil soup for lunch and turned on music. Dutch was giddy to get to move around and play and he quickly found his birthday balloons and began yanking them up and down, fascinted with how they boinked off his forhead with every jerk. It was one of those amazingly sweet afternoons where we just savored life. We savored our precious son who wants to get into everything and empty every drawer and climb into every cupboard. I even let him crawl around in the kitchen cupboard and play with the waffle iron (of course not plugged in! He likes anything that has a cord!)
The next day we had a HUGE treat. Aaron and Candi, yes THE Aaron and Candi from the Santa Clara story, had flown in from Boston with their newborn daughter, Hannah. So, we had arranged to spend the whole day together, and we did, savoring every moment, catching up on joys and sorrows and challenges and hilarious stories and dreams for the future. We cuddled each other’s children, laughed at house playing games now is significantly more challenging with a one-year-old and a nursing newborn. It was one of those sweet and rare times where we just are in awe of the amazing friendship God has given us.
Then Friday night we had a RDG Christmas party. The Red Door Girls are a group of us friends who all lived together at the Red Door house in college. We now get together every few months for either a baby shower or bridal shower or Christmas party. This year Jeff and I hosted and it was a BLAST. THe last of us is engaged (finally, Brita!) and most of us now have kids in tow. The night included a lot of breastfeeding infants, diaper changes, laughter, and stories. I am always in awe of how time with those girls is so fabulous. We always just jump on where we left off. Our relationships are truly God-ordained.
And today we had a rare and special occasion to be with friends, one of whom has been my best guy friend since I was three years old. Dawson Hunter (inlcluded in my When God Broke My Heart story) and his girlfriend Anna, and Scott and AJ Schindelar who are long-time friends from college and who worked side-by-side with us at Real Life in Corvallis, all drove out and spent the day here with us. What a blast! We also were able to jump on where left off, reminiscing about hilarious old times and discussing future dreams and plans … (maybe wedding bells???). It was fabulous.
And so now I’m tucked into bed. Dutch was exhausted and went to bed at 6pm … so I sit here and realize I could not be any richer. My life is so blessed with amazing relationships. Many of them don’t get the time and attention that I wish they did, but they are still there and for that I’m so grateful. Tonight I am also, to be honest, longing for a home of our own. All this fun and hosting has made me realize all over again that I was born to host, I have hospitality pulsing through my veins, and I’d love to have a home where we can invite people over, bless them, feed them, love them, serve them. Perhaps it’s selfish, but I think it’s in my DNA. But as with anything, God knows best. He will provide that in His timing, and for now I’m thankful that this home, though not my own, has been bursting at the seams with friendly faces and familiar friends. We are so rich. I pray that God would help me to learn to invest more and more in the things that matter–these precious people in my life.
Christmas in Bend: Silent Night
Right now I am sitting in bed, in complete darkness save the glow of my laptop screen. All I can hear is the clicking of my fingers on the keyboard and the soft breath of my little son, asleep in a portable crib beside our bed. Jeff is gone — performing his usual Christmas Eve ritual of making something special for me to wake up to Christmas morning. So, I am here in the silence of this holy night.
Tonight we went to Christmas Eve service with Jeff’s mom. The theme for the evening was the silence of this night, on the hushed holiness of the Eve of Christ’s birth, “as if the whole galaxy were holding its breath.” It is true. As we drove home tonight it was silent in the car. Few cars were on the road. Businesses were closed. There were no jam packed parking lots or lines extending outside storefronts as there had been just hours before. It had slowly falled into a silent night. I remember innumerable Christmas Eves growing up, driving home from my Uncle Tom and Aunt Jan’s house in Hillsboro. The long car ride was always silent except for soft Christmas music. We sang along and savored the quietness, the anticipation of the holy day ahead.
My favorite part of the Christmas Eve service is always the candle-lighting. We all hold these little plastic candle holders with half-burnt white candles that look very tacky in the daylight. But … at that special moment the sanctuary lights are faded to nothing and the candles begin to be lit, one by one as we turn to our neighbor and within moments the entire sanctuary is aglow with a hundred flickering flames. I can’t help but get goosebumps every time. There is nothing magical about all lighting candles, but it does create a stillness, a quiet hush that draws us to recognize the holiness of this special occasion. Christmas is not ruined for me by commercialism and Santa-ism. Chrismas is still the most precious, holy, blessed holiday–where we celebrate God’s greatest gift.
Tonight as I crept into the room, I tiptoed over to where Dutch is asleep and watched him, watched the flicker of his eyelids, listened to the sound of his breath. I tucked the blankets around him and checked to make sure his socks were still on. It was all I could do to restrain from leaning down to smell his breath–my favorite scent in the world. Having a son has truly made me appreciate the wonder of Christmas all that much more, and as he sleeps, his precious silent stillness is sacred to me. His perfectly formed little body, still and at rest. I stop typing for a moment as he stirs ever so slightly, his legs rustling in the blankets, his mouth making tiny little sucking sounds. And then it is silent again. I hear Jeff quietly open the front door as he sneaks in from his creative labors. The sweetness of this silent night is delicious. Sleep tight.
Christmas in Bend: Snow
*FYI: Thanks to my husband, you can now subscribe to this blog if you wish! Just click down to the right under “Subscribe by Email” and you’ll get notifications whenever new content is posted. I promise you won’t get any spam or junk from me (unless you consider my blogs junk). Thanks for reading!
—
I’m not a particularly romantic person. I’m not a fan of flowers or jewelry, so I’ve asked Jeff to skip giving me either one. The only piece of jewelry I wear (other than my wedding ring) is a solid silver band on my right hand that I never remove. To me, romance is Jeff taking out the trash without being asked or spending time with Dutch so I can have some free time. For birthdays and Christmas, my idea of the dream gift is a day spent lounging and reading or spending a fistful of cash shopping alone for house decor or new jeans. By nature I am practical to a fault. It’s really kind of a sickness — how I think balancing my checkbook and making grocery lists is fun, somehow.
All of this to say that I’m not a fan of snow. Almost everyone I know (except my dad who is most likely the giver of my practical gene) loves snow. Especially in the valley, a few little wispy white flakes and everyone goes bonkers. To me, it’s kind of the same as rain. I’m pretty much happy whatever the weather, so it’s all the same to me. But today we are in Bend, celebrating Christmas with Jeff’s mom and step-dad, his brother and wife and their daughter, and his grandma. My parents are here as well. Jeff and I and my parents and Dutch are staying in the guest house, a brand new darling 1,100 s.f. cottage that makes upscale resorts look like shacks. So this morning, as we lifted Dutch from his portable crib and let him scurry into bed with us, we looked out the window behind our bed.
It had snowed. Everything was covered with a blanket of brilliant white. Flurries of beautiful snow continued to fall all morning. Dutch 2wa`1`w2qq21 (that was Dutch typing–he’s helping me write this). Dutch was fascinated, my mom was ecstatic, and Jeff was pulling on his sweats and shoes to go gather a snowball to show Dutch. Later that morning, Dad and I took a long walk in the snow, the icy wind biting our cheeks, but the warmth of the Central Oregon sun warming our backs as we walked and talked. Later as I was carrying Dutch from the guest house to the main house, I listened to the snow crunching underfoot as Dutch chatted happily and pointed at the doggies, the trees, the snow. I realized then that there is something truly magical about snow. Yes, it makes driving more difficult and it’s messy to clean up. But here, tucked into our warm cabin on Christmas Eve, a fresh blanket of snow is the icing on our perfect holiday cake. Now, the sun is bright and the sky is blue, so the fields surrounding the house are glimmering blinding white. The fire inside is crackling, and I’m thinking about another cup of hot tea and maybe even one more sugar cookie. Christmas in Bend has already been so wondrously … well, romantic. I haven’t glanced in my checkbook or even thought about what I’ll be cooking for dinner when we get home. I’m going to savor every moment of snuggling with Jeff, laughing at Dutch tear through tissue paper, lounging with my feet up, and walking in the icy crunch of snow. I’m thankful for this Christmas in Bend, and I’m thankful for the snow.