Best. Christmas. Ever.

 It was overwhelming. But it was pretty darn perfect. 

We started our morning very peacefully, just the three of us. I'll cherish this photo forever.

And this is one of my favorite pictures. I can't look at it without laughing.

The icing on the cake was experiencing my first-ever WHITE Christmas! It was very special to be able to have my first white Christmas, my husband's first white Christmas and my son's first white Christmas all be at the same time. How exciting!

Merry Christmas!

For to us a child is born,
   to us a son is given,
   and the government will be on his shoulders.
And he will be called
   Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God,
   Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.
 -- Isaiah 9:6

O Holy Night

I've known this song since I was a child. I've always thought "O Holy Night" sounded powerful when sung by a choir. I've sung the lyrics a thousand times. Somehow, I never actually let the lyrics soak in. 

This year, I did. 

Long lay the world in sin and error pining

'Til He appeared, and the soul felt its worth

A thrill of hope

The weary world rejoices

For yonder breaks a new and glorious morn!

WOW. 

Chills.

That's the hope of Jesus right there. Just packed right into a few lines of a song. I've never seen such a powerful statement in so few words.

For to us a child is born

Christmas has always been special to me. What makes it special has evolved over the years. But this year has been the most meaningful, by far. R's birth provided me with the missing piece to truly feel the wonder and miracle of Christmas.

I vividly remember the amazement I felt as I held my baby boy for the first time. I remember thanking God for giving me such a precious little boy. My heart swelled with pride. I wish for great things for my son. I pray for him to grow into a strong, intelligent man who loves the Lord.

But can you imagine how Mary felt knowing that her son would be greater than any other? She gave birth to the Savior of the world! It must have been infinitely greater than the wonder I felt when I held R for the first time. Can you imagine? I love the lyrics to this song...

Mary Did You Know?

Mary did you know that your baby boy will one day walk on water?
Mary did you know that your baby boy will save our sons and daughters?
Did you know that your baby boy has come to make you new?
This child that you've delivered, will soon deliver you.

Mary did you know that your baby boy will give sight to a blind man?
Mary did you know that your baby boy will calm a storm with his hand?
Did you know that your baby boy has walked where angels trod?
And when you kiss your little baby, you have kissed the face of God.

The blind will see, the deaf will hear and the dead will live again.
The lame will leap, the dumb will speak, the praises of the lamb.

Mary did you know that your baby boy is Lord of all creation?
Mary did you know that your baby boy will one day rule the nations?
Did you know that your baby boy is heaven's perfect Lamb?
This sleeping child you're holding is the great I am.

As a mother, I have...

• A lot of tiny, finger-shaped bruises (especially on that really tender back-of-bicep part of your arm).
• A slew of scratches from razor-sharp fingernails that grow lightening fast.
• A passel of mystery bruises on my legs. 
• A hamper full of drool-stained shirts.
• A never-ending soreness in my lower and mid back.
• A bunch of clothes that don't fit quite right anymore.
• An ever-present distraction that disallows me to focus 100% on anything else. 
• A heart that's bursting at the seams with an awesome, overflowing, unconditional love.

Christmas Cards

I'm always a little late to the game on the Christmas cards. This year I honestly tried to get to it quicker. I wanted to get pictures done specifically for our cards. I wanted this year to be different, because this is R's first year on our Christmas cards. I kept asking Jason when we could take pictures. It finally became December and I realized that wasn't going to happen. Reluctantly, I used an existing picture to create our cards.

Fast forward to today. I hadn't ordered the cards yet. Reason: I was waiting to finish uploading pictures to Shutterfly for another Christmas present. I didn't want to pay shipping, so I wanted to order them together. Valid reason, right?

This afternoon, I went to the post office and bought stamps...before I'd ordered the cards. That got my butt in gear to order the cards. 125 of them. Yowza! Now, let's just hope that they arrive in time to get them out before Christmas. You can bet your bottom dollar that I'm not hand addressing them this year!

Side note: Regardless of the outcome, this year's cards are destined to be better than the year that I decided not to do cards...only to feel guilty after I received a bunch in the mail. I then ordered "Happy New Year" cards. Good one, Elizabeth.

Just call me Rachael Ray

Okay, maybe that's a little extreme.

But, I have found that, now that I'm home all day, I enjoy cooking. Granted, it does take some pretty careful planning on my part, a cooperative baby and the grace of God to get a meal prepared sometimes. When all the pieces come together, though, I do like to cook.

Today, I put together some homemade broccoli soup and banana pudding to take to some friends for dinner tonight. I'm very much looking forward to the rewarding part: eating it.

I hope my cooking motivation keeps up, because I'd like to do a better job of using natural ingredients to cook real meals as R gets older and starts eating table food. Right now I do far too much from a can or a box.

In the still of the night

I've been a night owl for as long as I can remember. I can stay up as late as you want me to, just don't ask me to get up early too often, okay?

I had a meeting for church at the home of some of our friends tonight. I took R with me, hoping that I could put him to bed there and just perform what Jason and I call a "baby transplant" later to bring him home. Evidently there was too much going on, and R just looked at me and smiled instead of going to sleep. In order to avoid certain disaster, I scooped him up, headed home and trusted that Jason would fill me in later on the details of the meeting.

The best way to get back home was through a series of back roads through the middle of nowhere. I was a little bummed to have my grand plan crash in on me, but I quickly found myself at peace, rather than ill. Why? Because I found myself in the middle of a dark night, driving down mostly empty roads and staring at a starry sky. I love that. And, for the first time, I began to wonder why I enjoy it quite so much.

I think I might have found the answer. (Maybe.) Settle in, this might be a long one.

I went to a fabulous summer camp when I was younger. It's called Camp Winshape. Every summer, I took two weeks to head to middle of nowhere Rome, Georgia, and experience pure bliss on Berry College's campus. Truett Cathy, the founder of Chick-fil-a, started Camp Winshape, and I thank him for it. It's a perfect little Christian summer camp that built me up and left me with lifelong memories. 

One of the greatest experiences of my life took place there. 

Toward the end of every two week session, there was an optional challenge for the oldest campers. I, being the ever-so-competitive person I am, was not one to turn down a challenge. So, my last year of camp, when I was 16 years old, I embarked on the 24-hour Challenge of Possum Trot. 

The challenge was very involved, but always began late at night (11 p.m., I think) with each participant embarking on a talking ban. From that point forward, no words or noises are to come from your mouth. The challenge was progressive, and any mistake resulted in disqualification. 

After taking the vow of silence, participants took what they called a "brisk walk" to Possum Trot. This "brisk walk" was truly a seven-mile jog. The campers had backpacks, but no flashlights, and were required to keep a pace that would keep them following the lead counselor, but not let them fall behind the counselor in the rear. (Thus, the "brisk" pace was set.)

Part of the jog was in the middle of the woods on a gravel path. No flashlight. Literally the only way I knew where to run was by following the sounds of the feet hitting the gravel ahead of me. After what seemed like a never-ending trek through the nearly pitch black darkness of the woods, we came to the end of the tree line. Fields stretched out to either side, and the sky sparkled with shining stars. 

Remember, this camp is in the middle of nowhere. The farther you are from city lights, the brighter the stars appear. 

I vividly remember that image. I remember the way the path felt beneath my feet. I remember the fence along the field. I remember the black night and the shining stars.

But, most of all, I remember how I felt. I was close to God. So close. That was probably the first time in my life that I truly, undoubtedly felt His presence. 

I don't know how long that stretch of trail was. But, at that point, I was so focused and so prayerful. It was one of the purest moments in my life. 

That, my friends, is the best explanation I can create for why I feel so comfortable - so at home - in the middle of nowhere on a dark, starry night. I love appreciating God's beauty during sunsets, on the ocean, in the mountains. But there's something special to me about the simple beauty of a starry night and the closeness I feel when He and I can share some time alone in the middle of nowhere.

Lift up your eyes and look to the heavens:
   Who created all these?
He who brings out the starry host one by one
   and calls forth each of them by name.
Because of his great power and mighty strength,
   not one of them is missing.
-- Isaiah 40:26