Christmas for one

Just re-thinking.  Do you moms ever do that?  Even as you could give the speech?  I know it’s enough.  I told you that.  And I have to be ok with it.  Because if it has to be for this Christmas, I’m noticing we’re running out of time.  But I couldn’t help but feel a little teary this morning.

My sister was just telling me about our other sister’s Christmas.  She felt they needed to do something for someone this season to feel the Christmas spirit, and so she found a little family who doesn’t speak any English through St. Vincent De Paul.  They delivered their Christmas packages and food yesterday.

I loved hearing the details of my sister’s experience with this family.  She is very private and so I don’t want to share her story in detail, but I was touched and very humbled.  They are like most of us, they have to stretch to make the most of their money.  But they wiggled things around in their budget and came up with the means to make Christmas for this sweet family.  All the 19 year old boy wanted was a pair of pants and a shirt.  And the 10 year old boy wanted was Legos.  In her typical way, she was more than generous.  As my sister relayed what our other sister was able to do, my love for her and her family grew.  She is my baby sister, but she teaches me so much.  I loved how she focused on just one small family.

Then my mom, in her Scottish story-telling voice, read us a story last night of another friend who had a similar experience.  Of a Christmas when they’d paid forward a generous Christmas they’d been given the previous year.  They found a humble home with a dirt floor not far from their own home in San Diego.*  I was touched by their story as much as I was my sister’s.

These two scenarios make me think of Christ.  And how he is all about the one.  Mother Teresa was that way too. As I've been reading a little book about her, I've been so impressed by her wisdom to not get overwhelmed but to focus locally and to pay attention to the needs of the individual.  I think that's why I’m crying, I can’t help asking myself if I’m missing the mark.  I’m like you, and even though we don’t do treats and little fun bags of anything, I still don’t want anyone to be forgotten.  Not so worried about our everyday friends… more the ones who don’t have much family or support.  And so we’ve tried.  But would it have been better for our kids to have focused on just one family and really thought about the individuals in that home?  I've wondered this morning if we've done it all wrong.  I recognize that we're all going to do things differently, and I honestly have felt a lot of peace this season.  But I still couldn't help but wonder if maybe these two stories have a lesson for me.

I loved how these friends and our sister went to the actual homes to deliver the gifts.  Their kids saw firsthand how desperate these families are.  My sister’s family only asked for corn meal and beans and rice for their Christmas dinner.  She said it made her three boys take note of what they had.  I can’t imagine it not changing them a little.  I’ve wished I’d done something just like that.

Because aren't you concerned about what we’re really teaching our kids?  Do you ever worry that they’re just not getting it?  Do you wonder if they know how lucky, how blessed, how over the moon rich they really are?  Simply because they have a warm home and beds and dinner?  Do they see it at all?  I’m desperate to teach them, to open their eyes, to shake them into recognizing how much we have and how grateful we should be and how we should use all we have to help others.  And I feel like, despite the good we try to do in tiny, tiny ways, it’s not sinking in.  They aren’t getting it.  They are sweet, I love our kids so much, of course I do.  And I don’t blame them for not knowing any different.  But yes, I’m teary that I may have missed a prime opportunity to do some good, to open their hearts in an impactful and personal way.  Please don’t lecture me and tell me that it’s all good, we all serve in our own ways.  I know.  I’ve given the talk a million times myself.  I just feel like maybe we should’ve taken one family and really focused on their needs like many of you are doing.  Maybe that’s a better way?

What I’ve really felt strongly this season, as I alluded to previously, is that we can serve beyond Christmas.  I can take what I’ve learned, seen, felt, and experienced through all of you and do better this year.  We are bad at serving as a family.  I’m not being any sort of humble, it’s the honest truth.  And I absolutely know why.  It scares me to death to lead my family into a nursing home.  I would have to be out in front.  I would have to lead us in the singing or talking.  How on earth would I ask a random grandpa if he’d like to play checkers?  It terrifies me to visualize it.  To be rejected.  My family would all hide behind me (if they’d agree to go at all), which is where I would want to be.  I’m scared to take us downtown to a homeless shelter. What would I say to them? I’m not sure I could be brave enough to take us to a cancer center. Would my look give it away that they scare me and then would we all just uncomfortably look at each other? What good would we even do?  It all comes down to my fears and insecurities as to why we don’t serve on a more personal level, it really is as simple as that. 

But as I've heard how quietly and intimately these two women have served with their families at Christmas, it inspires me.  To find the one, to focus on just a small corner of my little world, to help in more individual and thoughtful ways.  To not just send service from afar but to really get into the lives of people.  It's easy to send notes and treats and buy sweats and candy for people.  But I'm aware that we are lacking in personal connection, of seeing life up close, of noticing life through the eyes of those truly in need.

This is a gift I want more than any other this year, for my family to experience real giving. I feel keenly the need to introduce them and myself to real people. To notice the one. To get out of my scared box and link arms with my husband (and maybe another family to start with) and serve.  My family always accuses me of wanting to save the world.  And with a tender heart, it is frustrating to not know how to make any sort of difference.  But these two Christmas stories truly reiterated to me that the Spirit of Christmas is truly just the Spirit of Christ.  And that as we emulate his way of loving, we will notice the one, we will know that we are saving the world as we help one family and one person at a time, just like my sweet sisters and friends are doing.

*Christmas story

Enough

I was relaxing with Todd late (for us) just last night on our couch in front of our fire by our tree, caught in a stare as I reminisced over all our funny little ornaments, mesmerized by the tiny white lights that got sort of blurry the longer I looked at them.  And I wondered aloud if we’ve done Christmas right.

I think a girl would know exactly what I was saying.  But I spelled it out for him.  Did we remember everyone, did we hit the mark (whatever that is, I have no idea)?  Did we spoil the kids, or were we cheap?  Do we have any money left?  I still have donation slips and envelopes from all sorts of organizations, is what we’ve given enough? (Don’t throw them away yet.)  Did we forget anyone on our letter list? I tried to clean it up, but I don’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings.  We need to have some of them over.  Did the kids spend their giving-away money? What should we do about that? I saw big bags coming in the other day when Todd and our 12 year old daughter spent the day together.  Subway was somewhere in their day, who knows what else they came up with. Were the little things I got for Todd statement enough to let him know how much I appreciate what he does for us? We didn’t even get our missionary son a single tie.  I didn’t even think of it.  And I totally forgot about making him homemade anything.  Good grief.

But as we lounged lazily in the part-dark, I felt content.  At peace.  Of course I’ve forgotten people.  (But we remembered a couple last night; we’re on it.)  I didn’t buy everyone what I really wanted.  But at the same time, hundreds have flown out of our account.  Daily, it feels like.  I think the older we get, the wider our circle becomes is all.  So no, our gifts may seem chintzy.  I feel bad.  But we’re doing the best we can.  And no, no one’s getting any neighbor gifts.  I haven’t made my toffee or fun nuts or any other treats.  I’m already feeling fat from taking a week off for being sick.  That and I can see it.  I’m awed by how on the ball our friends are.  Completely taken aback by the treats they bring us.  I hope they know we love them.  So much.  We just don’t know how to really make sure they know.  I hope it’s not dependent on a fudge plate.

I know there are people at church we’ve missed.  The old people.  That’s something I still want to do something about.  We’ve full-on skipped the workers at school.  I just figure my time will have to be my gift for another year; it’s simply not on my list.  Maybe the kindergarten moms will come through; I never was one of those.  Even when I was.

We’ve been pretty lame at our efforts to do Light the World—one of my favorite initiatives ever.  Just a scripture about Jesus everyday with a short 20 second video and three suggestions to choose from to become a little more like him this season. We talk about it every night. Check.  We watch the video.  Check. We read the suggestions.  Check. We think they’re great ideas. Check. And then we nod our heads again in agreement, pray, and go to our separate beds.  Avery may have done one or two.  We’ve tried a couple.  But to be honest, we’re bad at this.  I started to think about our failure at the easiest opportunity for service and love ever, but then I stopped.  I told Todd these are great ideas. I think we should do some of them in February.  Or April.  It’s not that I don’t have a huge testimony of service.  Or that I’m lazy. (Well, partly probably.) It’s just that I refuse to allow this month to fuel my guilt.  So yes, we talked about praying for those who mourn.  And we have.  We talked about forgiving others, for looking at the good qualities of people who are hard (and I actually prayed quite a bit in my heart yesterday for someone), and for standing up for those who get made fun of.  We’ve written letters, we’ve spent time as a family, we’ve had friends over.  All suggestions from our service calendar I guess.  But more because we just wanted to. I know we can do more.  In January. Or harvest time.

I guess I can feel peace in spite of all we’ve missed and under-done because we know it doesn’t really matter.  There’s the day after Christmas.  And all the ones after that.  I already know we’re never getting a book written about us. There’s no way I should be writing a blog.  Our house is a bomb.  I’m making seven beds in the next day or two (which means washing every element of bedding including comforters first—I’m weird but I hate that stale storage smell). I’ve got company coming smack dab in the middle of a major commitment I need to oversee. I haven’t even really got to Christmas food, I have a vague cloud floating over my head—a thought bubble thing—about dinner I’m to make for 10-16.  I really should pull its string down and pin it to something sturdy.  But maybe not till tomorrow.  Bread’s raising for Todd’s work people. Check. First load of company sheets are in their rinse cycle. I think our friends know we love them. I haven’t cried a single tear.  At least not in relation to Christmas.  Only with my friends who are sad. And from happiness. I’m feeling the spirit of Christ, I’m feeling his love wrapped around me in spite of the craziness I’m in the middle of.  We’re doing things as a family that are simple and that fit us and our life. I’m in awe at how peaceful and calm I feel.  And that’s how I know it’s all enough.

The gift of love

Maybe I’m simply not mainstream (no surprise there), but I’m not always on the same page as the experts or even my friends when it comes to movies and books, for instance.  I guess I just want to see for myself, to go in without any ideas bumbling around in my head from anyone, I just want to form an opinion on my own.

I do this with books all the time.  In fact, I almost subconsciously have my guard up when it comes to books that are popular because I’ve had such bad luck with them.  One was a recent Pulitzer prize winner (A Spool of Blue Thread) and I read about 3/5 of it before I just had to call it.  Harry Potter was the same, I read about 1/3 of the first book and just couldn’t do it.  But I read all sorts of weird stuff that I can’t really even recommend to anyone I know (except my mom and sisters) that I absolutely love.  Regardless of what may be well-liked (or not), I’d rather just decide for myself.

And no where is this truer than when it comes to people. I just know I’ve been given the wrong information way too many times.  I can’t tell you how often I’ve heard negative stuff about someone I didn’t know, then I meet her and get to know her and totally love her.

I think we're all pretty good about teaching this to our kids. Be nice to everyone, keep an open mind, don’t judge people by what other people say about them, get to know them.  Read what appeals to you, find hobbies that look interesting to you that match your personality, form your own opinion on an issue or about a class or teacher or person, go see a movie and figure out for yourself if you liked it, fight for causes you believe in regardless of what anyone else says.  Don’t worry about what everyone else thinks.  Give people the benefit of the doubt.  Decide for yourself.

When it comes to people in particular, regardless of what background stories I’ve heard about someone or what kind of talk is going around, I want a fresh canvas, a chance for both of us to decide if we’ll like each other, if we’re compatible, and if we’re interested in a friendship.  And I want my kids to do the same.

Of course I’ve met some peculiar people over my lifetime, we all have.  In fact, aren’t we all a little quirky?  Some have been truly eccentric, a little off the beaten path, I’ll give you that; but I think they like standing out.  I’ve met some that I maintain a large circle around; they sort of scare me (not in a dark alley sort of way, but that I’ll end up offending them inadvertently and get on their bad side sort of way), I’m afraid to get too close.  I’ve met so many soul mates, kindred spirits; I love these women so much.  I’ve met women who are hard for a lot of people to get along with.  I’ve met women who like things done a certain way (isn’t that all of us in one way or another?). I’ve met women who worry and stress about so much in their lives and others who are as carefree as the wind.  I’ve met women who show me a different perspective, who open my eyes to another way of thinking.  I’ve met women who are hiding their insecurities behind a gruff exterior, a fake confidence.  I’ve met some gems, quietly hiding on the outskirts, waiting to be discovered.  I’ve met women who can do anything, who are competent and vocal, strong and almost intimidating.  I’ve met those who like to be in charge and those who like to be led.  I’m like you, we can’t help but have rubbed shoulders with all types.  They’re everywhere.  We’re in activities with our kids, we work, we help out at school and church, we mingle with our kids’ friends’ parents, we socialize with friends of friends, we belong to extended families.  We’re in the middle of it all as women.

But what I’m seeing is we women have so much more in common than we see at first.  For the most part, everyone I’ve met just wants to be known, appreciated, respected, and loved.  They’re just trying to make it through the day like the rest of us.  They love their families, and they have dreams, but it’s not easy.  They—like us—have been taken advantage of.  They get mixed up in misunderstandings.  They get tired.  They’re protective of their tender hearts that have been hurt so many times through the years.  They want to use their talents and abilities that are unique to them, they want to contribute meaningfully.  But they’ve failed and been let down.  They’ve had hard times financially or with their kids or with their extended families.  They’ve dealt with health issues.  Marriage hasn’t always been easy.  Some have built walls, others continue to open their hearts to get broken again.  They’re just like us.

I just think we can assume everyone has a story about why they’re the way they are, and if we could have just a moment’s look inside their hearts, we’d pull them close and embrace them like a mom with her sad child.  Like this young bishop (Elder Eyring).  A (new and drunk) member of his congregation had just driven through the glass and into the lobby of a bank.

“As I waited to speak to him in the bishop’s office, I planned what I would say to make him feel remorseful for the way he had broken his covenants and embarrassed the Church. But as I sat looking at him, I heard a voice in my mind say, just as clearly as if someone were speaking to me, “I’m going to let you see him as I see him.” And then, for a brief moment, his whole appearance changed to me. I saw not a dazed young man but a bright, noble son of God. I suddenly felt the Lord’s love for him. That vision changed our conversation. It also changed me.” Don’t you think?

I remember another women who told of when she was a young mother with a new baby.  She asked God who this baby was, to show her.  This experience impacted her deeply and I’m sure it changed the way she parented.  I know this is something we can all do.  We can ask Heavenly Father to help us see someone we’re struggling with as He does.  We can look past the rough parts and focus on what He surely loves about this person.  No where would this more helpful than in our own families.

In fact, I was just reading in my journal last night about a time I was annoyed with one of the kids.  Not an argument, but just in general because I didn’t see this child moving forward or progressing or even caring (at least in the way I thought he should).  So I prayed about my feelings; and, as so often happens, I opened to this scripture randomly one morning in the temple, “Beloved, let us love one another: for love is of God; and every one that loveth is born of God, and knoweth God.” I got no additional information, no insight, no other answer.  Just an overwhelming feeling of love for my son.

This message from God touched my heart profoundly and humbled me on the spot.  I’m usually so generous with women I meet and know, it’s not hard to love them deeply.  I think it’s because I’ve lived long enough to recognize everyone is struggling with something but that everyone is amazing in her own way, I’m ok with different, I know I’ll find something I love about her.  But I hadn’t been as kindhearted in my own family in this instance. How tragic, but what an incredible lesson and reminder that love—his kind of love—is always and forever the answer. I'd forgotten.  Or maybe felt so frustrated and hurt and discouraged that I let those feelings overtake the familiar unconditional love I have for my family. But that morning in the temple, reading words meant for me that day, changed the way I saw my role as a mom. As strongly as I believe it's to teach, my highest calling is to love.  As a mom and as a friend.

Usually in families that's a given because we know each other intimately; and, because we’re privy to the back story, it breaks our hearts when people misjudge our children or us or our parents.  We wish we could tell them the whole story.  The nights we’ve cried together.  The things we let go so that we can focus on the bigger things.  The talks we’ve had with our teenagers and the choices we allow them to make on their own.  All we’ve been through together.  What they’re really like inside.  That they’re doing their best. If that’s true in our families, don’t you think everyone has a similar story that maybe they just can’t share?  Maybe it’s all too tender or sensitive, or maybe they’re respecting a child’s privacy or trying to put it behind them, maybe they think they can’t trust us because we seem too judgmental or different or distant.  I just think we’re more similar than we appear, whether we're adults or kids, families or friends.  We’re all mostly just doing the best we can. 

I’ve noticed that when I’m quiet and thoughtful about a person I’m struggling with, when I humble myself enough to ask God about it, always a loving feeling comes to mind.  Not my natural inclination or what I’d like to say or do, but more along the lines of how God would respond.  Sometimes I’m irritated because I’m certain I understand the situation and I know exactly what response is warranted, I don’t want to be nice, she is mean just like everyone’s told me.  But if I can just quiet myself long enough to ask God what he thinks, he opens the curtains and shows me some things I wasn’t privy to before.  It might be as simple as an impression about something she may be worried about, it might be a question he sends to my mind, it might be a clue in a conversation within a short time, some new information.  Overwhelmingly, it’s a warmth, a feeling of love. He simply asks us to trust him with the details of his children’s lives and to try to see them and love them like he does.

Christmas traditions

A young mom friend asked the other day what Christmas traditions we have that help our family focus on Christ.  To be honest, for years I felt like we’d invited satan to dinner more than Christ, and I immediately wanted to text her back, you’ve got the wrong number, I’m not that mom, someone else needs to hand out Christmas advice. I’m simply not doing all those things you’re looking at on Pinterest, it’s not me you want to ask for stuff like this.

Rather, I’m the mom who sees all the good ideas online that all my holy friends are up to, all the treats and projects and service for families to make and do and be I see in magazines and in my feed, all the envelopes in the mail waiting for me to stuff them full of checks… and I kind of just want a cup of hot chocolate and Hallmark.

We’re not awesome at any of this to be honest. I can share a few things we’ve tried, but you’re not going to be impressed; it’s truly nothing to be writing about.  But you’re like my little sister, and you asked.

Christmas in my mind is essentially a time to think about Christ and how he loved, a springboard to get better at it.  It’s the easiest time of year to practice because the spirit of love is almost palpable and opportunities abound.  But it doesn’t mean it all has to be churchy.  His spirit permeates our homes and families and lives any time we show love and warmth.  We can practice serving and loving like him in a million small ways as individuals and families throughout the year.  Over the years I’ve made the paradigm shift from thinking we aren’t feeling the spirit of Christ unless we’re talking about him in Jerusalem to… we are celebrating and honoring Christ any time we think about him, act like him, love like him, or serve like him.  And no place is better to do that than in our families and among people close to us.

So in real terms, I keep trying to tell you, we’re still not all that great at this.  And Christmas guilt is real.  Even for a grown up mom and one who knows (and even preaches) better.  It’s just that my heart has so many desires and ideas that roll down the proverbial bowling alley, bouncing against the bumper pads, hitting maybe one pin off to the side, getting one point for every ten I would like to have hit.  I see so many other families who get strike after strike.  (I’m not ashamed to admit I try to scroll past them and their good ideas as fast as I can.)  I try, but I’ve never been that good at sports. Or note-worthy deeds.

But because you wanted to know, here’s what we’ve done over the years.

Every morning at breakfast before school we read scriptures.  But during December, when the kids were little, I used to show them pictures of Christ’s birth, we’d talk about the different parts like the shepherds and wise men, the annunciation, etc. and hang them up during the month to remember the events.  As they’ve gotten older, we just read scriptures pertaining to these events and Christ’s life rather than our regular scripture reading.

We gather most evenings during the year as a family again before bed for some kind of devotional (scripture, a quote, something someone learned in church or their reading, a short video, we talk about it… and of course family prayer), and so we just make it more Christmasy during December.  I have a beautiful book of stories from the olden days of farms and one-room schoolhouses that I read to them from.  And a binder full of Christmas stories I’ve collected.  Sometimes Todd will take a turn, but he cries a lot.  One of my favorite nights of the season started a few years back when I dreamed out loud to him.  I would love it if I made cinnamon rolls and hot chocolate and we gathered in our cozy, dimly lit living room by the tree and you read A Rifle for Christmas to us.  A long stretch for sure.  But he acquiesced.  And it’s stuck!  But he can only get through like half before he starts crying and then I have to take over.  Hands down one of my favorite traditions.

One friend got a bunch of picture books from the library and wrapped them and each night they’d unwrap one and read it as family.  We tried it, maybe our kids were too old? Maybe it was too late each night?  Didn’t work for us, but such a fun idea!

We had fun when they were younger buying a nativity set, breaking it into its components, decorating paper bags (not like that—they just colored on them with crayons), attaching a tag with a little scripture to go with the person or animal for the day and anonymously dropping it off to an unsuspecting family.  The last night we gave them the creche and revealed ourselves.  Took some effort each night, but I liked the spiritual component and carrying on the tradition that started when our friends did it for us.  Some families also do the 12 days of Christmas and take random gifts to families, even going as far as to number them like 12 candy canes, 11 cookies, etc.  So we may have done that, it’s obviously not something we usually do since I can’t remember though.  Good grief.

We go to the mountains and cut down a Christmas tree and an extra one for boughs.  This is where we excuse Christ and invite satan to join us.  Todd and I can’t agree on this one for anything in the world.  He wants symmetry, a little perfection; I’m the same way with trees as I am with everything else in my life, I’m completely at ease with less than stellar.  I’m just generally freezing.  And scared of getting our truck stuck since he insists in going back into the forest as far as we can in all sorts of ice and snow.  I loved the past two years when we went to Lowe’s and picked up a bundled tree and were just surprised when it thawed and fluffed up later at home.  No mountain trees smell nearly as good.  And they aren’t prickly.  But for the record, everyone else in the family loves our tradition of picking out trees in the mountains.  Maybe I’m satan.

But I make up for it.  I put out a Christmas puzzle this time of year.  It’s true, we always have a puzzle out on the special table just for this purpose.  But a Christmas puzzle just adds to the festivities.  Too bad no one but Todd and I care about it.  And an occasional guest with just as nerdy taste in hobbies.  But at least we’re not fighting about the tree.

One fun habit we’ve adopted over the years comes from Todd’s growing up years.  We all pick names from a hat around Thanksgiving time—anyone who will be with us on Christmas Eve including extended family and friends—and I write down who chose who.  Then on Christmas Eve we exchange these little gifts, a $5 limit.  Not a white elephant useless gift, but something like notecards for me, candy for nana, beef jerky for Todd.  Nothing big, but it allows our kids to think about someone else’s tastes and likes, people like grandparents and our friends who come over.  We spend a Monday night in December shopping for this night, trying to keep it secret from each other.  We’ve done this for as long as we can remember and it’s simple enough to keep working.  

I heard a great idea a few years ago and we’ve adopted it with great success.  Because it’s easy and doesn’t involve crafting or making things cute.  This woman gave each of her kids $200 (we cut that way, way down) around Thanksgiving time and they had to somehow give it away/spend it on other people before Christmas, then on Christmas Eve everyone shares what they did.  I LOVE this so much!!!  Because it gives the kids a chance to make decisions and to let their personalities shine.  So sometimes they’ll buy critters like bees or chickens for someone in another country.  Or food and clothes for the homeless teens.  Or leave a small bit of cash somewhere as a surprise for someone.  It is so fun to see what they come up with!  If I had started this with some foresight, I would have us all collect our change during the year and each of us use that.  But I’m typically a few years late with all my good ideas and so it is what it is.  (We do have a Christmas envelope that I tuck away $20 here and there throughout the year just for this.)

The past few years we’ve encouraged them to all put some real thought into at least one gift.  Ideally, make something for someone.  One son wrote me a letter that I cherish; I’ve read it so many times and cry every time.  (What boy writes his mom a letter??? I might never get another.)  Another son made me a neon green Adirondak chair.  Avery made her dad a pouch kit for his wood carving tools and a wood carrier with handles.  Todd’s made cutting boards for his siblings. I can’t remember all the gifts, but we encourage them to use their skills and personalities, to just be thoughtful.  We’re still gaining momentum here, but I love it.

We’re not into giving neighbor gifts.  There was a time… and my mom was and is still amazing at this, making platters of all sorts of treats for all her friends.  This is something I mindfully gave up years and years ago.  But a friend taught me a different slant.  She and her family each choose one person/family for their family night and they delivered that many plates of whatever she made.  So that’s what we’ve done.  We met some of our dearest friends this way years ago.  They were new to the school and area and we’d never even met the parents, so we hestitantly and shyly made our way up their stairs and introduced ourselves.  SO fun!! It’s made us think about who needs a little pick me up, maybe an old friend we’ve not been in contact with, a new person we want to meet, whatever.  I love that it’s just one evening, seven plates, and we all have a say, it’s a choice and not an obligation.  Because every year our circles widen, right?  It’s no fun to have to try to choose or to feel overwhelmed, to think that if we forget to give someone caramel corn they might think our friendship doesn’t mean anything.  Good grief, too much pressure!  So we just go with our gut and what we feel like.  Which is maybe bad.  We just hope that our actions, our invitations, our dinners and lunches and times together during the year show our love more than a plate of fudge could.  We do, however, send a family letter and pictures; if we do anything, that’s where we spend our money and time.

I’ve also been the WORST at teacher gifts.  THE WORST.  I always forget.  I may have.  I have no idea.  But I’m at peace.  Every lovely thought or act doesn’t have to be crammed into the first three weeks of December.  (Truth be told, I also forget Teacher Appreciation Week.  And End of Year Gifts.  Have I mentioned I’m not a gifts person?)

One family we know camps out under the Christmas tree the night before Christmas Eve; isn’t that so fun???  Todd would never go for that because it’s not comfortable.  I, on the other hand, love camping and sleeping on the tent floor, so this would be like having hamburgers from the grill in the middle of a snowstorm, a sliver of summer coming to visit for the holidays. We’ll see; don’t hold your breath.

We took the kids to Bellisimo, a bell-ringing concert, last year on a Sunday afternoon in a huge stained-glass church downtown.  Totally a mom thing, but I thought it’d be a good cultural event, and it was so festive, a sweet start to the season.

Years ago we started talking about Norweigan Christmas traditions with our kids and introducing some of their native foods for a family night.  Todd lived there for two years and we wanted to keep some of that alive, a tradition we look forward to every year now.

We’ve taken the kids to our favorite little mountain town for their Stroll the first weekend in December.  We go out to eat and stay at a hotel and walk up and down the Christmasy main street decorated in lights with fire pits in the roads, roasted nuts, hot chocolate and handmade treats, music, snow, and horse-drawn wagon rides… it’s one of our favorite traditions of all.

Christmas Eve may be just like everyone else.  We have our nice dinner, open new pajamas, and gather for a Christmas video depicting the nativity and Christmas story.  We usually read the story from the Bible (although our 16 year old informed me this week that she hates that part of Christmas…for the love). Years and years ago we used to trade homemade ornaments with all the cousins and we’d open them at this time, something I absolutely both loved and hated.  The stress of crafting was intense for me.  But I loved the tradition itself and how creative all the aunts and uncles were.  SUCH a delightful tradition.  But we dropped it a few years back.  We traded books for a couple of years, but now we just send whatever we feel like.  I miss it.  Even as I’m super relieved.  Anyway, after all that, we watch a family Christmas movie until we’re too tired to worry about Santa.

(ps I learned a few years back to get a Target bag for each kid and label it and put all their stocking stuffers in each bag as I got them so I could get a visual before Christmas Eve. Nothing worse than dumping everything you’ve bought into a big pile late Christmas Eve with your husband and realizing you miscalculated or forgot something… this has been a game-changer.)

By the way, we never do Santa anything.  We’ve always been extremely ambiguous.  Of course we read all the books and traditional stories, we watch all the claymation shows from the 70s and Elf and Polar Express, it’s not like we’ve ever talked them out of Santa; we’ve just never taught it.  So no, we don’t have Santa presents or tell them their stockings are from Santa.  We do however leave out cookies and milk, that’s weird now that I think about it.  So it’s not that we have strong feelings about not keeping a legend alive, it’s just that when they’ve asked questions we’ve always responded with a vague What do you think?  And then we typically respond with our standard, That would be interesting.  Could be.  Hmmm…

The Elf. This was a mom-guilt purchase.  Because I’m not fun.  And long to be.  In a way.  But not really.  Anyway, $30 and a book and red elf later, I realized how much work I’d just added to my season.  I decided right from the get-go ours would reflect the personality of our family.  So he never did amazing feats or needed a lot of help doing tricks.  He simply made snowmen or snow angels, hung out in the tree making snowflakes with tiny scissors, walked in snow shoes, flew around on our fan, read to the other stuffed animals, played in the toy house, ate sugar cookies, just stuff a mom can handle.  I’d make a list in my planner at the beginning of the season of ideas (who can be creative at ten at night?) and cross them off like some sort of weird grown up advent calendar count-down. As old as they were when he came to live with us, they still used hot pads to pick him up and move him.  Last year he just sat and watched.  Kind of like our old dog who sleeps most of the day.

Speaking of which, we have a lazy Christmas day.  Growing up, my mom cooked all day.  I hated it.  So we do a nice Christmas Eve dinner.  But we do a frozen or earlier-made lasagna and brownies and ice cream and leftovers on Christmas.  I make a breakfast casserole, Little Smokies, butterscotch rolls, cheese ball, snack foods.  The kids also get sugar cereal.  In my heart of hearts, I’d love to do traditional trifle (a nod to my Scottish heritage, tried it, no one likes it but me and my mom) or a meal like Christ may have had (I’m thinking about doing that for a family night in December this year, not Christmas day; don’t hold me to it)… but most important of all that happens on Christmas is that mom stays collected and doesn’t end up in her closet crying.  So frozen lasagna usually works.

By this point I know you’re wondering what the point of all this was.  She’s nothing special.  In fact, she’s got nothing.  I already knew all this.  We’ve got things handled way better. I should’ve written this blog for her.

I know.  That’s what I was trying to tell you.  The thing is, I got sick of feeling overwhelmed at Christmas.  It’s almost entirely up to the mom to remember everyone we’ve ever loved, to make things magical, to make everyone’s favorite food, and still be available for all-day shopping trips, long board games reserved for vacation days and late-night romantic Christmas movies with the girls. I guess I just decided long ago that it doesn’t all have to happen right now.  Isn’t it better to have a neighbor gathering in boring February?  Don’t we play board games every Sunday of our life?  Didn’t I shop all year just so I wouldn’t have to go out in December? Don’t food pantries need food even more desperately in the summer?  Don’t homeless teens need shorts and new underwear in July?  Can we bring cookies to old people in January?  And could we talk about Christ every day of our lives?  And could we try to keep that love alive by continuing to think of creative ways to show it?  At Christmas, I feel his love as we gather as a family each night.  As we’re mindful about people around us, especially those who come to the forefront of our thoughts as we ask for direction.  As we fit service into our lives in natural and personal ways.  As we share the season with others who don’t have the blessing of family nearby.  I just think Christ wants us to celebrate his life by following him, by giving, loving, and serving in small and simple ways like he did.  So, if you consider that the mark, I think you’ll be fine no matter what traditions you choose for your family.

Dating rules

I just went to check on my 16 year old the other evening, just to hug her and catch up, nothing unusual, just our little thing.  But then, maybe because she’d just come home from a fancy dance the night before, she asked me a question out of the blue. 

What are our family rules for dating?

I’m not usually this ill-prepared, but this time she caught me off-guard; I had to scroll through my entire parenting guide twice. Nothing. We’re not really a rule family.  I almost couldn’t think of a single rule we have.  Expectations yes, of course.  But hard, fast rules???

We’ve never really had bedtimes (eventually you’ll figure out what needs to happen if you’re tired during the day).  Or even curfews (around 10:30 or so, let us know what you’re doing and we’ll talk about it). I guess we have food rules like no pre-packaged foods except for lunches (too expensive).  No ice cream just for fun during the week unless it’s a special occasion.  But we don’t spell out how many spears of broccoli they need to eat before they can leave the table, and we don’t dictate birthday parties (i.e., one year friends, one year family), we just go with feels right.  We do have tv/computer rules now that I think about it. And of course they need to do chores and dishes and laundry, all that stuff.  But did we have any other real rules? I was befuddled.  Especially if we were talking about dating rules, something I’d never thought about.

I told her I’d always wished my parents had given me some guidance in this arena, but obviously they parented a lot like Todd and I do, even more so.  So yeah, no rules.

I had to think off the cuff.

1.  No opposite sex in bedrooms.  (This never, ever occurred to me until I was getting a tour of his house after Todd got home from his mission and we ended up looking at a fish tank in one of the brothers’ bedrooms. I had no idea this was a thing until his parents called us out on it.  Who knew?)

2.  No lying down in hammocks or beds or couches together.  (I’m also not fond of cuddling under blankets on a cozy couch in the dark watching movies.  Well, more accurately, I’m fond of it; I’m just not fond of any of my kids or their friends doing it.)

Whoa! This was starting to feel a little like those getting-ready charts we’d hung up when they were in preschool.  So not like us.  So let’s go back. Scratch all that.  Instead of listing a bunch of whats, I thought it was more important for us to talk about the whys about dating in general.

Basically, date with no regrets.  Respect him—whoever it is.  In all likelihood you’re probably not going to marry someone you date in high school; you might, but you most likely won’t.  Behave in a way so you won’t be embarrassed down the road when you meet up again at a PTA meeting or you have to serve in church assignments with each other or your kids start becoming friends with each other and he comes over to pick up his daughter.  Don’t do anything with him that you hope no one will ever find out about.  Treat him as you would like someone to treat your brother or sister. 

Dress in a way that allows you to talk.  That doesn’t distract him.  That shows him you respect both yourself and him.  This isn’t being sexist, this is being classy.  And a lady.  Dating should never be about sex.  Dating is to help you get to know each other.  So dress and act like the confident, secure, modest person you are.  True beauty shines on its own, any guy worth your time will notice and appreciate that.

Inspire him to be his best self.  You should elevate each other; your influence on each other should make you both want to be better in all sorts of ways.  Encourage each other in school, help him as he prepares for a mission.  Keep your goals and future in mind.

And yes, talk.  Talk, talk, talk.  About politics, religion, books, questions, goals, what you want out of life, what you worry about, what you love, where you want to go and be and do.  Really get to know each other, engage in worthwhile conversation and include others, discover a new point of view, hear another perspective, try to see where he’s coming from.

Stay in groups.  Go on all kinds of dates.  Try to incorporate service (such a mom quip, but any chance you get…) now and then.  Have fun together.  Don’t get serious.  I tell her all the time that I never had a boyfriend I stayed friends with.  From my own experience, getting serious changes it all and it’s never really the same again. Sad.  

And don’t ditch your girlfriends for a guy.  It’s so hard to feel pulled in two directions when you already have so many other things going on.  I remember having to choose between eating lunch with my friends and being loyal to a boyfriend. Right now, at the risk of sounding old fashioned and out of touch (like I care), it’s more important to be true to your girls.  These relationships can last forever and can ride the waves of boyfriends coming and going.  True friendships are worth nurturing and spending good energy on.

Yes, this is a crazy mix of feelings.  People gravitate toward each other, it’s natural, it feels good when someone you like likes you back, it’s new and exciting, of course we get that. We wouldn’t you to not have these experiences.

But dating right now is not supposed to look like you’re married. Dating at this stage is to help you figure out what you like and want in a future husband.  It’s a chance to interact with lots of different people and personalities.  To expose you to a variety of situations, some that will possibly even stretch you. Of course it’s meant to be fun.  But it’s more than just having fun. Just like life is more than a joy ride.

Try to remember we’ve also been 16.  And 17 and 20.  Looking back, I’d say take it easy.  Enjoy your friendships.  With guys and girls.  Date.  Have a great time.  It’s fine to like someone.  But to tie yourself to another 16 year old and pretend you’re more grown up than you are, that’s just a lot of pressure you’re not emotionally ready for at this age.

It’s a timing thing.  Down the road we will be encouraging you to get a bit more serious.  But these next few years are critical, there’s so much to learn and experience before you’re emotionally mature to handle a real partnership.

But that’s just mom talk.  We’ve always let you decide for yourself, we’re not going to tell you your business and tack up a chart of rules, you’re old enough to think for yourself.  But just remember we’ve been where you are, we were 16 once, we get it.  We’re just glad you asked.

Thinking of Thanksgiving

I was planning the upcoming menu the other day with the family, and Todd asked us what our dream Thanksgiving would look like.  I had to laugh, he’s lived his most of our life together by hunting in the morning and coming home to help with the rest of the dinner, games in the evening, just happy for a day off work.  The kids didn’t give us a lot to go on, just Little Smokies, traditional fare. Then Todd cornered me and I admitted I almost don’t even know what to dream about.

But since he asked, I thought about what a Thanksgiving Day would look like if I could honestly choose.  For the past decade or two I’ve dreamed of having the Macy’s parade on the tv as our morning  backdrop.  The kids would sleep,  I’d write out all my Christmas letters and sort the envelopes into international and U.S. and hand-deliver stacks. Dinner would be percolating in the kitchen nearby, sweet and savory smells would simultaneously enwrap me.  Pies would be cooling, rolls raising. Ideally at someone else’s house.  Kids would be playing out in the snow and later with board games.  The morning would stretch without stress, without a care in the world.  We’d dress in our business casual, gather our contributions and make our way to somewhere we’d been invited.  We’d have a spiritual moment where we’d go around the table and talk about our blessings.  No food would be cold; it would just wait for us.

The bubble pops easily.  We don’t get any tv channels.  Plus it’s in the basement and too big to be moving up and down the stairs to the kitchen, who would do that? I’ve tried watching re-runs from years past (like it matters how current a parade with balloons is), but I only seem to get clips and not the whole parade on my computer.  Todd has hunted for as many years as I can remember Thanksgiving morning (thankfully dressing the turkey before he leaves though), at least back when the kids were small; I think he’s stayed home for the past couple for whatever reason, I have no idea.  He’s been on-call before.  My letters aren’t usually done by Thanksgiving, so that’s not usually what’s happening.  Plus we’re almost always the one hosting, for as long as I can remember anyway, so there’s no time for hunkering down in front of the fire to write love letters. But, like I said, it’s Todd’s job to deal with the turkey, I’ve started on some things the day before, and I wake up staring at the work in front of me, the cooking schedule, our plan of attack.  I’ve had the kids tear bread for stuffing, par-baked the rolls, made the pumpkin, sometimes the berry, (and this year, since we were mentioning our dreams, Callum requested the chocolate) pies as well as the cranberry sauce and cheese ball yesterday.  But I still need to make the apple pie (I’m silly, but I like the crumb topping fresh so it’s crispy and not soggy from sitting out) and the stuffing.  Green bean casserole (which I tried making healthy last year, no go), etc. etc.  I do actually like setting the table, the one job that others seem to want to help with, which is actually weird.  We eat mid-afternoon.  And then there are the dishes (I’m not really a disposable kind of gal, I know).  The one good thing about no tv is no football.   Hallelujah.  (I totally forgot that to have no football is part of my dream.)  So that works out.  I love the desserts but I feel sinful.  And gluttonous.  I think I love the evening, but I have no recollection as to what we do.  Maybe friends linger.  I know we sometimes take a walk.  Play games.  Watch a show.  I think I’m just relieved I made it through another year of trying to make the expectations of all the guests and family members happen.

Did you like this holiday as a kid? I honestly can’t remember if I did or not, isn’t that curious? I suppose our experience may have been like most of yours.  Way back when we went to my dad’s parents’ sometime in the afternoon. What could be more traditional than traveling half an hour to grandma and grandpa’s house in the back of a station wagon to spend the afternoon with mostly adult relatives in nice clothes?

Where we, like a lot of you, were relegated to the kid table.  Boring grown up talk.  Dry pie crust.  (My kids hate pie for the same reason.)  I’ve never cared for turkey and especially eschewed the wet bread stuffed inside it all.  Cranberry sauce was bitter, I wasn’t into olives or the “relish tray,” and I skipped the sweet potatoes (if we even had them—honestly can’t remember).  Along with most kids, I liked potatoes and gravy and rolls and jam, but that’s about it.  And the ice cream that accompanied the pies. I of course loved seeing my aunts and uncles, but I was even more shy when ones from out of town came, they all talked about how big we’d grown and asked us all sorts of hard questions.  I did like the idea of no school, having my mom home all weekend, and its close proximity to Christmas.  So overall Thanksgiving has always been sort of beige in my mind, not quite my favorite holiday, but certainly not the worst.  And yet, overall I absolutely love the fall season and the holiday energy, I love Norman Rockwell and the idyllic Thanksgiving scenes… it’s definitely grown on me the past several years.

But funny thing, as I’ve written this, I’m beginning to remember that I do love Thanksgiving.  Just as I love Sundays.  Of course every day of the week has its merits, but Sunday really is different, a special day to devote ourselves and our thoughts to things of a higher nature, to ponder and appreciate the blessings of having Christ and his teachings in our lives.  And so it is that Thanksgiving is also becoming dear to my heart.  It’s almost a holy day in our minds (which is why it seems odd for people to be out shopping), distinct.  I love that I don’t have to buy presents with the possibility of getting it wrong, it’s just a day with food and family, a day to pare down and focus on what’s really important.  I’m beginning to remember all the parts of it I love.

I’m recalling the delightful, old-time verses and songs with handmade cut-out people and turkeys I’d entertain my littles with as a young mom.  So long ago that I’d nearly forgotten.  I’m remembering all the picture books I’d read to them from the library, the cozy feeling of both cuddling and educating—an absolutely intoxicating sensation.  I specifically remember buying (I know) a particular non-fiction paperback picture book for them so that we’d always have it, so they’d be sure to know the story.  I remember the library video I’d check out annually where children depicted what life in Plymouth would have been like.  I’m thinking of all the years we’ve had Todd’s parents or other family members join us.  And when we’ve visited extended family ourselves and been spoiled and pampered by relatives who’ve let us feel like kids again even when we’ve been completely grown up.

I’m thinking of how the decorations are up for Christmas at the craft stores and the mall.  And how festive it feels to be in the midst of the “holiday season.”  I love that we get a mix of snow days and blustery late-fall days where the leaves are still ours for the raking.  I’m remembering the holiday parade the day after Thanksgiving we’ve gone to. I’m thinking of the annual neighborhood football game that sometimes the boys have played in.  I’m excited that Todd gets to be with us for the whole day.  I love that we get to sleep in.  And that we get to have friends join us.  That we have enough to share.  That I’m healthy and strong and able to cook all day this year. That I have people to bake pies for.  That we have an entire day devoted to thankfulness.  I love the touching quotes written in pretty fonts all over the internet, admonitions to think outside ourselves for a season, to remember all we’ve been blessed with and to share that bounty with others.

And so I’m grateful.  As I know you are.  For this almost sacred time of year, a day—a season really—to share our abundance, a time to celebrate family and friends, a chance to look around and see who we might help, a time-out-from-being-careful-day to have all sorts of high carb foods—the very same ones we had at grandma’s decades ago.  I’m grateful for tradition and how it links generations.  For the pilgrims who started this whole thing, for their strength and vision and desire to worship freely.  I’m glad for the chance to gather the kids and to talk with them about our blessings.  And what it means when the scriptures say “for unto whomsoever much is given, of him shall be much required.”  And to remember from whom they all flow in the first place.

I still don’t like olives.  Or turkey.  No one really eats the cranberry sauce.  And it’s a load of work for the parents. For days.  But I wouldn’t bow out of it for anything.  To tell you the truth, I don’t need parades. Or a quiet day to myself.  I’ve had more than my share of both in my lifetime.  What I want—and I think the whole world needs—is more days like Thanksgiving.  More days where we invite loved ones and new friends to dinner. More days of tradition, of young and old coming together with no agenda.  More days lingering and talking.  More days playing games together. More days of counting our blessings.  More days to remember what truly matters.  And yes, more days living with thanksgiving in our hearts.

Grapes, Grapes of Wrath, and the Good

We were making chicken salad and fruit bags for an activity the other day, and a friend informed me that grapes have more sugar than Oreos.  Good grief.

I went to a class years back called The Spiritual Value of Reading Secular Literature.  One idea that has stuck with me was a question, are we more concerned about bumping into bad stuff than seeking for good?

I loved this idea and validation. Because it confirmed to me what I’d begun to suspect and learn in my own reading journey.  I have little patience for authors who litter their writing with profanity, sex scenes and anything crass, crude, or vulgar just because.  Good writers should be able to jump higher than that.  But I’m actually referring to novels.  I give way more latitude to my non-fiction.  Which sounds completely inconsistent.  But not really.  I understand that when an author’s keeping things real, when she’s quoting an ill-educated person living a life of desperation, his language may not be polished, it’s all he’s maybe known coming from an abusive past.  I get that.  And to some extent, I can live with it for the greater good that comes from reading time-tested and quality literature.  The Bible is perhaps the best example of this.

And so of course there are exceptions to novels.  Consider all the great works that we consider classics. They have their share of sticky situations, tangled love webs, less-than-exemplary lifestyles and vocabulary, but it’s not all in there for shock value or to sell; it’s necessary to explain the lifestyles, the quandaries, the difficulty of the lives and times of its characters.  In my mind, it’s generally purposeful.  And we acquiesce because the morals, the lessons, the character development and insights are so valuable and timeless.  The positives outweigh the negatives, tipping the scale nearly to the floor.

I’m completely aware of the trash that abounds.  And agree we need to be judicious and so careful with our selections in every sector of our lives.  But sometimes we go too far, sidestepping the bad but missing out on so much good as we do.

How many of us have avoided avocados because of their high fat content?  But they are sugar, sodium, and cholesterol free and loaded with nearly 20 vitamins and minerals as well as

heart-healthy monounsaturated fat.  We just hear fat and close the door.

And grapes?  Yes, naturally sweet, but they’re good for hydration and “especially dark-colored ones, are loaded with phytochemicals, antioxidants that may help protect against cancer and heart disease. Two of those phytochemicals, anthocyanin and proanthocyanidin, may be especially good for your immune system. Grapes also contain vitamin C and selenium” (webmd.com) as well as vitamin K.  To me they’re worth keeping around.

But that’s the thing I hear over and over these days, people avoiding foods because they’re “carbs” (which in Britain is labeled as “energy”), or have sugar or aren’t high enough in protein.  We’re missing out on so much if we simply choose to focus on the small negatives inherent in some foods instead of recognizing the abundant merits of a varied diet.

This principle is widely applicable.  

Think people, friends you have because you consider all their endearing qualities more important than the fact that she hates dogs or he lives sort of far away.

Think majors and careers.  Did you look at the list of classes and bow out of a major that you otherwise felt drawn to? Most of our friends had to endure organic chemistry and hours of lab work; Todd had to take public speaking. But do you forego your dream of working in the medical field because of a few rough classes?  Are there parts of every job that we'd like to outsource?

Let’s go back to dogs.  Yes, there’s a learning curve at the beginning as you teach when to go outside and when to sleep.  But does a pet's loyalty, unconditional love, and companionship, the good outweigh all that in the long run?

Would you go back to your childless days?  Have the amazing moments of joyous payback been worth the hardships?  And let’s be honest, there’s plenty that’s difficult.  Nights of throwing up, of staying up, times when you want to give up.  Money spent on diapers and formula and car insurance and college.  But would you change all the memories, the years, the good, so you wouldn't have the intermittent unpleasant times?

Did Mother Teresa avoid dirt? Oozing skin sores? Or did she overlook the poverty and smell and notice a person’s eyes and goodness?  Did she know the work, her vision, would be more far reaching than the opposition she endured?

Did Christ spend his days in the temple teaching only the righteous?  Or did he leave and seek out the sinner, the lame, the rebellious, the destitute?  You know he continues to look past our poor performances, our lame attempts, our imperfections, and our self-made-messes to lift us and to love us, just as he did when he walked the earth.

I guess I just think most natural foods, quite a few books, and all people have value.  I of course espouse high standards.  I freely and firmly agree with you, we need to be choosy to some degree.  But maybe we can open our minds a little.  And our hearts.  Let’s not avoid people because it would require us to stretch.  Let’s be ok with a little dirt.  Let’s increase what we allow on our plates.  Let’s use our discretion of course, but let’s not let our filter keep us from the abundance of good that’s within our reach.

Leaving

I can hear the moans in my head.  Why do we have to be the weird ones? Why do we always have to stay? I simply switch channels and tune them out.  As far back as we can remember, we’ve just stuck around as a family to help clean up after a church dinner or activity.  Telling the kids to put away chairs along with everyone else is as natural as bringing a potluck dish.  Sometimes one of them will get to vacuum, but other than that and maybe some tables, I’m honestly not sure how much we contribute to the overall clean-up.  I remember back on some evenings assessing the situation when they were really young and realizing that it would help the overall production most if I would simply gather my five littles and leave, in effect relieving a great deal of the chaos.  I laughed as we were finishing up the last activity’s clean up.  It came down the final tasks and we were all sort of slow dancing around the mostly cleaned up work, asking each other what else we should do. By this point we were less than useful, and so Todd called it an afternoon.

You’ve all lived long enough to have debunked the myth that you should never go to bed angry, that most of the time the best thing you can do for your spouse or kid or other loved one is to just go to bed with it unresolved.  We all know how cranky and irritable we get when we’re tired, so letting go of an issue long enough to get some sleep is such an easy and effective way to maintain a loving relationship.  I tell Todd all the time as it nears 10 that I just need to go to sleep. I’m not mad, I totally love you, I’m just feeling myself getting irritable and I know I need to go to bed and leave all this till the morning.  He calls it powering down.

As I thought about these two common situations, I wondered what warrants leaving.  Is there a tipping point when it becomes obvious, when you just know?

Most women I know would definitely hesitate  before leaving a hairdresser even if she can’t get it right no matter how many pictures we’ve shown her.  But what about an insurance company when the rates skyrocket after a freak hailstorm?  A house that’s closing in on you even though you love your neighborhood?  A job that’s not paying or challenging enough anymore?  A major, a religion, a country, a group of friends, a team.  We’re constantly assessing situations, weighing whether to stay or leave.  And when the timing will be right.

There are obviously times when it’s just smart to leave early: before the littles have a meltdown at a dinner party or Disneyland, before the lunch turns gossipy, before it snows when you have a long drive home.  Of course, be smart, leave while you still have your wits about you, while it’s still relatively easy to extricate yourself from the situation.  But so often we’ve pushed our luck and paid the price.  Staying out in the sun even when we feel the tingling and people start to talk about our pink shoulders.  Staying in our seats during an uncomfortable movie or comedy routine or even a new novel.  So many times we really should’ve walked away from the dessert buffet a few cupcakes back.  Or left TJ Maxx before we needed a cart.

But sometimes it’s not all that obvious.

Is it wise to leave a perfectly good situation (job, house, city) based on a feeling that you need to be somewhere else?

When do you leave your childbearing years behind for good?  Are you sure?  Once things get easier, do you revisit your decision?

When do you rescue your kids and when do you leave them to figure things out on their own? Is it different depending on the kid or the circumstance?

Do you continue to ask a friend to spend time with you after multiple declines?  But do your feelings change you find out she’s been sick all this time without letting on?

When do you leave a boyfriend? A wife? A friend? A relative? (Isn’t family the hardest of all to know about?)

I think we all know when we've stayed too long, but will we ever know the ramifications of having left too early?  Have we given up when we should've hung in there?

Sometimes we stay because we want to give it/her/him/the group another chance; most of us aren’t quitters and pride ourselves in our stick-to-itiveness.  I tried 4-H for a year with the kids.  Monday evening meetings at the little country church and archery in the next town over, the auction yard downtown, the fair.  I traveled back roads in the snowy, dark nights with all the kids, holing up in the little library with the remaining four while one shot his bow.  We took care of his pig all summer.  But after that obligatory year commitment, we left and never looked back.  It was one of the best leaving decisions I’ve ever made. 

But don’t we waffle? Don’t we sometimes mistakenly believe—or tell ourselves—there is still good ahead and just a little more time will prove it?  One more clearance rack, one more cake pop, one more soccer season, one more date, one more invite, one more chapter, one more chance.  I’m telling you, this is muddy pond water, how do you know for sure when it’s time to move on?

The thing is there’s no formula.  Because every person, situation, life, and set of circumstances is so different. Maybe we think it’s clear, it’s not working anymore, it's obviously time to call it. But that’s dangerous.  Even as it feels safe.

Because you just never know.  We can’t see the future, so this is the stuff that requires mindfulness.  Being in touch with your heart.  And with God.  I've drawn on these verses more times than I can count,

"Yea, behold, I will tell you in your mind and in your heart, by the Holy Ghost, which shall come upon you and which shall dwell in your heart.

"Behold, you have not understood; you have supposed that I would give it unto you, when you took no thought save it was to ask me.  But, behold, I say unto you, that you must study it out in your mind; then you must ask me if it be right, and if it is right I will cause that your bosom shall burn within you; therefore, you shall feel that it is right.

"But if it be not right you shall have no such feelings, but you shall have a stupor of thought that shall cause you to forget the thing which is wrong." 

I’m not talking about the park or Costco time-to-go-home-decisions, but definitely when we’re considering leaving people.  Because God knows what’s going on behind the curtain and what’s hiding in her heart.  We may think our teenager is begging for freedom when really she’s crying out to know we care.  Maybe you think your efforts aren’t noticed at work or on the committee, you're ready to walk; but you likely have no idea the difference you’re making in someone’s life.  We’ve given them enough chances, it's been too long, they'll never change. But does God think so? Possibly.  But when it comes to people and relationships, I want to be sure.

I’m not making that decision for you.  And he won’t either.  But I can guarantee he will help you know when it’s time to leave.  And when it’s best to stay just a little longer.