Progress on that novel has been excruciatingly slow. But yesterday I had a break through of sorts. I rewrote a scene and glimpsed the beauty in it that I’ve been praying for–the kind of thing where the words give voice to the glory of God’s grace and fit together in some sort of design. I’d appreciate your prayers that I’d have more of those moments and that I can let got of that inner voice of fear that says I’ll never get it done and if I do it won’t be what it needs to be. I know that is stifling my abilities.
On another note, yesterday I took my laptop upstairs to work. I hoped getting out of my cluttered office might open up my soul. Besides, the younger boys and I had hung lights the night before. There are few things I love more than twinkling lights. So I steeped a cup of tea, turned on the pretty lights, and curled up in the recliner. The work was still slower than I’d like, but at least it moved forward!
Hanging the lights with my boys, ages 10 and 11, was a hoot. The eleven-year-old, Stephen, was happy about the absence of the teens. He got to climb the ladder and hang the cross in the upper window for the first time. I didn’t want to let him do it. He wasn’t quite tall enough to reach the top, but he was so determined that I bit back my worry and let him prove himself. And you know what? He did great. No broken bones and a cross twinkles from our window. It’s backwards and a tiny bit off center, but nobody but me would notice that anyway!
Unfortunately, he also continued his older brother’s tradition of acting like he’d fallen off the ladder to scare me. He hit the bottom steps of the ladder, let loose a yelp and rolled down our stairs. (Did it work, Mom? Did I scare you?)
The boys were also excited about helping me without their older siblings because they felt their ideas would have more possibility of being used. Stephen set up a really cool collection of snowmen and candles and lights. It was different than I’d ever done, but I’m glad I stayed out of the way and let him do it, because not only do I love what he did, but he’s so pleased! The younger son, Sam, had several ideas of his own and went around pointing them out to his dad when he returned.
My family has fewer traditions than I’d like, but one thing the kids and I try to do at the first real snowfall is make snowflakes. I love making snowflakes and could do it for hours. We make hot chocolate and a huge mess of cut-up paper in the kitchen as we sit around, blast winter music, and chat. When I awoke to snow yesterday, I told the kids if they’d let me work for the morning, we’d do snowflakes in the afternoon.
I told the teens they were each required to make two snowflakes, and then they could be on their way. (My daughter, who was captain of her gymnastics team had to buy presents for the banquet that night and my son stopped liking to do snowflakes a few years ago.) Funny how things happen, though. My daughter made a few snowflakes, but instead of rushing off to run her errands she sat and chatted with us a while, sipping tea (she’s trying to reduce sugar and begged off the hot chocolate). My son made two really cool snowflakes then grabbed my laptop and did his own thing–but instead of going to the other room, he chose to stay with us at the table and be a part of the hull-a-ba-loo. Funny how that works. It did my heart good to have all four of them around that table.
The younger boys worked extra hard on their snowflakes, trying things they weren’t able to do last year. Stephen always dreams bigger than he can execute, but finally made a snowflake with legs that pleased him. Sam did some intricate inner cutting I’d never seen him do before. And all the while I merrily designed my own masterpieces. When I cut a snowflake I can hardly wait to see what my ideas will translate into once the snowflake is opened. It always reminds me of the fact that no two real snowflakes are the same and that God made us like that, too. Beautifully unique.
When we finished, everyone picked their two favorite snowflakes to hang in the living room window. I couldn’t believe how beautiful they looked.
I then decided we needed some tiny snowflakes in that upper window by our cross. The younger boy and their friend who’d shown up by this time, helped me make them. Then my youngest was determined to have his turn on that crazy ladder. *sigh*
He did all he could, reaching as high as he dared, then I finished what he couldn’t reach. But not before he continued the tradition . . . he got almost to the bottom step of the ladder, let out a yell, and went rolling down the stairs.
I only jumped a little.