The Itchy Halo

"Now, as we line up, think about how special it is to get to do this!" 

[The class begins walking to the sanctuary] 

"My halo itches..." complained one. 

"This crown is too tight," retorted another.

"Do we have to stand the whole time?" a third questioned.

This year has marked quite a transition in my career as an educator. Last year I taught 20 children at a Title 1 elementary school. This year I teach 13 at a private, Christian school. This year, my class just so happened to be the Nativity in the school Christmas program. It was especially remarkable for me to watch my students portray the wise men, shepherds, angels, Mary, and Joseph. I felt reflective, thankful, and tearful, even to get to hold the baby doll Jesus for my seven-year-old "Mary" as she waited to go up on stage. This year, I finally get to speak real, Christmas truths to my 2nd graders every morning in preparation for the portrayal of these roles.

As we went through dress rehearsal and I heard the quotations aforementioned above, I couldn't help but continue to think about how relevant their comments are to the story they are telling. It was easy, as their teacher, to go immediately to the place of correction. "Let's not complain! You get to have such a special opportunity this year to be the Nativity!" But, as I thought about it more and more, there was a better more teachable moment to explore. 

The day of the performance, as we had our morning devotion in the classroom, I said something like this to my students: "As we were rehearsing yesterday, I heard an awful lot of complaining. A lot of you mentioned how uncomfortable you were in your costumes and how hard it was to stand and wait for so long. I want you to think back to the day that Jesus was born. Do you think that Mary was comfortable? Having a baby in a barn probably wouldn't have been too much fun, right? She was probably scared and nervous, too. What about Joseph? Do you think he was worried about Mary? Do you think he wished there had been a more appropriate place for them to stay that night? Now let's also consider how far the wise men traveled in search of Jesus. I wonder if their feet were hurting? I wonder if they were tired of carrying all of their belongings and the gifts? Lastly, there was our King. He was basically born in a barn and then his first bed was a feeding trough for animals. I bet he was pretty uncomfortable, too. As you get uncomfortable today, remember how true those feelings were for the people you are representing." 

I haven't really stopped thinking about this conversation. It is natural for kids to grumble and say things like that in costume but something really special has come from this small moment - an epiphany of sorts. God sent his only Son for us and gave Him up for us - sacrificial, painful love. Mary gave birth to Jesus in a stable - blinding, fearful trust. Jesus was born and slept his first nights in a manger - humbly, meekly and a totally unexpected entrance for a King. Jesus then was crucified on a cross for our sins - excruciating obedience. All were beyond uncomfortable so that God could fulfill the ultimate love story which begins as, well, Christmas. 

We are not called to be Christians to live a life of comfort. We are called to be uncomfortable. We are called to step out and be His hands and feet, his disciples, in exchange for an everlasting, forgiven life. 

I pondered this. What does it mean for me? The next time I'm in a hurry at the grocery store, I need to take a millisecond to smile or offer a "Merry Christmas" to a stranger. I need to give financially more often to help others (even if I "can't afford to"). I need be more obedient to the Holy Spirit when I feel pushed to do the right thing in those moments of weakness. I need to give of my time. I need to tell others about Jesus and how much I love Him. None of these discomforts even come close to the pain He felt for us. 

I don't know about you, but I have definitely been the one to complain about the itchy, often crooked, halo. I have failed to see that the moments of discomfort in life are the ones where we have the opportunity to shine more brightly for our Lord and Savior. We can be thankful for our itchy halos and too-tight crowns. After all, what a privilege it is to wear them at all.  

"I have come that they may have life and have it to the full." John 10:10

Merriest Christmas,

Lauren

(See also Matthew 28:19)

Forever Mine

Dear Sweet Julia,

After I put you in new, one size-up pajamas after your big girl bath time and rocked you to bed, I have to write this to you. We had a wonderful day; you have become quite my little sidekick: We walked almost five miles on the Swamp Rabbit with new mama and baby friends. We took the dogs to the vet for their check-up. I gave you cantaloupe, green beans and even a bite of ham with your pureed, squash dinner. We blew bubbles on the bench in the backyard and you giggled and belly laughed at them. What a wonder you are, Julia. What joy you bring to me and us, my littlest love.

You see, as I was rocking you, I sang a variety of songs like I try to do on most nights. I sang "Amazing Grace" last but added in the "My Chains are Gone" verses on repeat. Something just struck a chord with me during that quiet time. The lyrics were a great reminder that I have been saved from the darkness and toils of this world. I am found in Christ. I pray that you will know this truth and hold it in your heart so that you can show grace, love, and mercy to everyone. Our world needs those things so desperately.

I also realized, in the last line, "You'll be forever Mine...You are forever Mine" I want/wish to apply those verses to my relationship with YOU but I can't. I love you so much my heart could burst. I love you so much that tears fill my eyes just thinking about how much I love you and how much I want to protect you. But, you are a gift entrusted to me from our Father. Our time on this earth is fleeting and fast; it isn't forever. (Unfortunately that whole "put a brick on your head" doesn't actually stop you from growing up too quickly.) I just thought you would stay a baby so much longer. And it hit me..."you are forever Mine" is a lyric that reveals a gleam in words of His love for us -- His children. As I rocked and felt totally at peace and content holding you, looking at your sleeping eyes and your tiny hands resting on me, I felt God's love. He sees the best in us. He loves us so much. We are His children forever. What a beautiful thing. I cannot imagine if I love you as much as I do just how much He loves us. I cannot imagine how much He wants for us to love Him back and to have a relationship with Him.

One day, I hope you get to be a mama. It is SUCH a glorious gift no matter how it comes to be. He lets a mother's love be that great to give us a glimpse of the love He has for us. I believe He also gives us children to show us how He views us: unblemished, unique, full of potential, and in constant need of grace, guidance, and protection.

I love you, Julia. He loves you more. He chose us to be yours. We'll be forever His. You'll be forever His.

Love,

Your Mama

Strong For Her Tasks - a letter to Julia

My Sweet Julia,

Today is my last day of maternity leave with you. I have been dreading this day since before you were even born. To be honest, I never could really imagine myself as a "working mom" but God has a different plan.

I have adored caring for you each and every day, uninterrupted. You have somehow had a way of slowing me down but speeding my life up drastically - it's the strange time continuum of having a new baby and becoming a new mama. How has it been 10 weeks? I love each moment - the smiles and the cries, dressing you up and hanging up your laundry to dry, rocking you to bed and being greeted each morning by your sweet, rested eyes, breast feeding and pumping. I love putting little hats on you and tucking you in a warm blanket before we leave the house. I love crafting new headbands for your tiny head. I loved holding you and calming you down after first doctor visits. I loved that first time I took you to the Fresh Market and nearly knocked everyone down in our path with bucket seat in one arm and the grocery basket in the other. I loved introducing you to everyone and having friends and family in and out constantly. I still clearly remember the first time I was sure you really saw me for the first time. I loved blocking the rest of my world out to focus on you.

I want you to know, though, that I am going to work for a reason. I am going to help provide for our family. I am going to teach twenty children how to read and give them a safe, fun, and nurturing place to learn. I am on a mission while I am not with you. You, my child, have a mission too. You get to know and spend time with your Mams, Dee Dee, and your Daddy. God has given you this very special time to get to bond with your grandmothers and your Daddy. As much as I am going to miss you each day and look back on this time with much nostalgia and fondness, I am also going to be grateful. We have been given MANY blessings.

Your Daddy reminded me, as I was in tears about this time of transition, that I have to choose to be positive. He's so right. You will have hard times in your life and you really do have to choose to be positive. My mind was flooding with all the seemingly impossible tasks. How can I be a great teacher and leave at or before 4pm? How will the house stay clean? How will I continue to breastfeed and pump for you? How will I get ready and out the door each morning? How will I have time to cook and enjoy our family in the evenings?  He reminds me that I am a strong woman. God reminds me that I am a strong woman and that women are made to be pretty darn incredible creatures (see Proverbs 31:10-31).

I am sure that in a few weeks, it will still be challenging. I will still miss you and wonder what you are doing when I am not around. But, the coolest thing, Julia, is that I will always be your mama. No one will ever replace me. Our bond is like nothing I have ever experienced. I am so in awe of you and pinch myself every day to make sure you aren't a dream. You really are such a miracle. Please know, little one, that I love you so very much. Today may be my last day of this very special time called maternity leave but it's still just at the start of this awesome journey as your mama.

Love,

 Your Mommy

For Now

For Now

your hands

have never

picked a flower

gripped an ice cream cone

opened a book

examined a seashell

tossed a ball

twirled your hair

pointed across the way

kept a beat

wiped a tear

painted wildly

clapped in delight

written a letter

captured a bug

maneuvered a wheel

put on a dress

helped you shout

splashed in the lake

squeezed a teddy

turned on a light

rolled out some dough

petted a kitten

dropped something

reached for a hug

but

they hold mine tightly, for now.

Happy 2 Months, lady Julia! Mama loves you so.