jumping tandem

Sunday

noreply@blogger.com (Deidra) — Sun, 29 Jan 2012 02:00:00 +0000

Say a quiet yes to God and he'll be there in no time.

~James 4:8, The Message

~~~

Welcome to Sunday. Feel free to link up your Sunday post below. We like to keep it simple, so just link up a photo, along with a few simple words of encouragement. Then, visit the others who've linked up here in this quiet community. To get all the details, click the Sunday tab at the top of the page and - while you're there - grab the Sunday button to post over at your place.

Found

noreply@blogger.com (Deidra) — Fri, 27 Jan 2012 21:09:00 +0000

Last summer, we moved our stuff from a big space to a smaller one, because we wanted to live more simply and because we wanted to save money and pay stuff off, and because our nest is emptying out for good - at least for now. It was one of the best decisions we've ever made. Smaller. Simpler. Sweeter.

Somehow, this smaller approach to life has expanded my world.

Soon, I'll be moving again. Yep. I'll be packing up my blog and moving from this place, over to Wordpress. I have no idea what I'm doing, and there are lots of backstage logistics to consider. Thankfully, I have friends who know logistics.

Lyla knows logistics. She and I were on Skype the other night and I was picking her brain about Wordpress and theology and life and disco music, and somehow we started talking about that time I lost my blog.

I told her it was awful. And the worst thing about it all was missing you. My friends. I know I've said it before, but you mean the world to me. When I lost my blog, I thought I'd lost you.

Lyla said, "But we all found you. Your friends found you," and when she said it, it was all I could do to keep from crying, and I told her so.

I'm sitting in a coffee shop, typing out these words. Michelle sits across the table from me, and I read her post and the comments there and I have to get up to get a napkin to wipe away the tears. We're just typing and trying not to eavesdrop on the conversation going on at the table next to us, and it feels like we've known each other all our years.

Fruit

noreply@blogger.com (Deidra) — Mon, 23 Jan 2012 10:00:00 +0000

Last week, I got all whiney and indignant with God. Sometimes that happens - and, no I am not proud of it. But I thought I'd share my spiritual faux pas with you, in case you happen to find yourself in my predicament one day.

Of course, God probably wasn't paying too much attention to me and my shenanigans.

I'd point to someone else's brilliance or - as some would say - "fruitfulness," and then I'd say something like, "Hey, God! Where's my fruit?" Well, that's not exactly what I said, but you get the point.

Then I had a pity party. I started talking about how God never comes through for me. Yes. It was a slippery slope, and I've got the grass stains to prove it.

Yesterday in church I heard these words, "God is always wanting to use us to show the world that He is God." I almost looked up to see if there was a big red arrow pointing right at me, because that's what I'd lost sight of last week.

I had forgotten this is not about me. I like to think it is. I like to think this life of faith is all about making sure I'm comfortable, and noticed, and...well...happy. But that kind of thinking is just as empty as the shells of those horseshoe crabs I found on the beach last fall.

For some astoundingly mysterious reason, God invites us to join in with Him as He works to show people how great He is. Thank goodness He knows about people like me. People who slip up from time to time (okay - a lot of the time), and mess up His holy reputation. And yet, even with all of my ridiculous tantrums, He still wants me along. What kind of crazy love is that?

God - I'm sorry about my tantrums. Thanks for putting up with me. Thanks for being patient with me. And, yes. Please feel free to use this one, small life of mine to show the world just how great You are.

~~~

I'm excited to be linking up today with Michelle.

Sunday

noreply@blogger.com (Deidra) — Sun, 22 Jan 2012 02:00:00 +0000

We're in no hurry, God. We're content to linger

in the path sign-posted with your decisions.

Who you are and what you've done

are all we'll ever want.

~Isaiah 26:7, The Message

~~~

Welcome to Sunday. Feel free to link up your Sunday post below. We like to keep it simple, so just link up a photo, along with a few simple words of encouragement. Then, visit the others who've linked up here in this quiet community. To get all the details, click the Sunday tab at the top of the page and - while you're there - grab the Sunday button to post over at your place.

Perfect

noreply@blogger.com (Deidra) — Fri, 20 Jan 2012 10:00:00 +0000

It's a fine line - these stories I tell about H and me. He shakes his head when he hears what I've said about him. "You always make me sound so good," he says.

"You ARE so good," I answer.

"I'm not THAT good," he replies. He talks with his hands and now he's saying, "I hope when people read it, they know it's just a moment."

He pushes back from the table and looks at me. "You know," he says. "I hope they don't read what you write and look at the person they love and miss their own moments."

And I get what he's saying. I totally get it. Because I've read the stories about other people's moments and wished they were my own. I've tried to make H fit in to someone else's moment and missed the perfect moments he and I make together. I've squandered our own, beautiful moments by wishing someone else's story was my own. That's why H shakes his head when he hears what I say about him.

Because he isn't perfect. No one is. It's just that every now and then, we stumble on a moment that is beautifully, breathtakingly wonderful. And those perfect moments are the ones worth talking about.

Pouring Coffee

noreply@blogger.com (Deidra) — Wed, 18 Jan 2012 10:00:00 +0000

Snow fell through the night. I had no idea. It took me completely by surprise, and it was absolutely beautiful. So I was riding shotgun when H drove the car around the corner, and from the passenger seat I could look right through the picture window where a couple sat at their kitchen table. She was pouring coffee. He was reading the paper. I wondered if they'd been up for hours the way I've heard retired people do. And I imagined they must get a kick out of watching us creep by their window, inching our way to who knows where.

Nesting

noreply@blogger.com (Deidra) — Tue, 17 Jan 2012 02:41:00 +0000

Our youngest child drove back to school on Friday and today, H cleaned out the refrigerator and I made applesauce in the crock pot and cooked collard greens on the stove. I thought about cleaning the picture window and H read pages from Strength To Love while the dog stretched out in front of the heater. And all day long our hearts thanked God for education and for food and for shelter and for books, and for people like Dr. King, who changed our world.

Sunday

noreply@blogger.com (Deidra) — Sun, 15 Jan 2012 02:00:00 +0000

"For even if the mountains walk away

and the hills fall to pieces,

My love won't walk away from you,

my covenant commitment of peace won't fall apart."

The God who has compassion on you says so.

~Isaiah 54:10, The Message

~~~

National Delurking Day

noreply@blogger.com (Deidra) — Sat, 14 Jan 2012 14:37:00 +0000

Have you been lurking? Well, today's your day! Come on out from behind that screen and say "Hello!" I'd love to meet you. And so would the rest of us, over at incourage!

Your Place At The Table

noreply@blogger.com (Deidra) — Thu, 12 Jan 2012 13:28:00 +0000

Hey there! Come on over and join me at incourage. I saved a place for you. Right next to me!

My Word

noreply@blogger.com (Deidra) — Wed, 11 Jan 2012 10:00:00 +0000

Yep. I've got my word for the year. And nope. It's not conventional. And if you were reading last week when I wrote about my latest adventure in the car with H, you probably already know my word for the year.

To be honest, I have chosen one word a year for decades. For a long time, my word was peace. I got stuck on that word and couldn't let it go. It was when I had small children in the house. Small children and all of their things. Then, one year, I clearly got the message that I could let go of peace (the word, not the concept), and in its place, the new word I was given was grace. That was when my children were trying to find their own way in the world, and I was trying to find mine, and grace was something we all needed. In abundance.

My time with grace and peace was rich and I still use those words, often signing my emails and letters, "Grace and peace to you. In abundance." Because you can never have too much of either one.

But this year, when I saw the posts and tweets and FB status updates about the one word of the year, I just wasn't feeling it. It all seemed too heavy and I just wasn't in the mood. Until last week, when Nancy dropped a note in the comment box - a post script, to be exact - and I knew "Disco" was my One Word for 2012. Because who doesn't need more boogie and glitter and roller skates - and dancing queens? Seriously.

So, please - weigh in and let me know your thoughts about my One Word for 2012. What's your One Word for the year?

The List

noreply@blogger.com (Deidra) — Mon, 09 Jan 2012 10:00:00 +0000

Lord. Have. Mercy! You have outdone yourselves! And do you ever love your books! And your authors! Thanks so much for all of your recommendations for my 2012 reading list, and for your support of the 25 in 2012 extravaganza!

You recommended so many books, my head almost started spinning. In a good way. It's a good list. Really good. And it's big. There is something on the list for everyone, and that comfy chair in my living room is going to earn its keep this year, that's for sure!

Check out the list. It's got its own tab up there at the top of the page. That way, you can find it whenever you want. Because the list isn't just for me. It's for all of us. And just so you know, I only listed a book if I was actually given the name of the book. I didn't list authors, or every book in a series. However, if your recommendation isn't on the list, that would be due to human error. Mine. Just let me know that I missed it, and I'll add your book to the list.

Okay. That's it for now. I've gotta go read!

Sunday

noreply@blogger.com (Deidra) — Sun, 08 Jan 2012 02:00:00 +0000

"For I am God, your very own God,
who stirs up the sea and whips up the waves,
named God-of-the-Angel-Armies.
I teach you how to talk, word by word,
and personally watch over you..."

~Isaiah 51:15,16a, The Message

~~~

Disco

noreply@blogger.com (Deidra) — Fri, 06 Jan 2012 10:00:00 +0000

We listen to disco music all the way from Lincoln to Omaha. I sing and dance in the passenger seat, and tell stories about dancing and roller skating and H listens as he drives because he is trapped there in the car with me. I tell him I am probably the last person alive who still likes disco music and he asks, "Then why would there be a Pandora station named 'disco'?" and I say, "Good point."

I belt out the words to "I Will Survive" because I know every single one and in my mind I can sing it just like Gloria Gaynor. And - just in case my mind has miscalculated - I only perform that song in the car, the shower, or in my living room with the windows and doors shut. (Except for that one time I lip synced the entire song in my cubicle at work, wearing sunglasses and holding a dry erase marker as a mic.)

In the car between Lincoln and Omaha, ABBA sings "Dancing Queen" and I say, "Oh my gosh! I need to see 'Mama Mia'" and H laughs out loud and I say, "You would have hated me in high school."

He looks at me over his right shoulder and says, "And you would have hated me." And we are both right.

Now I'm wondering how in the world we ever came to be and before I can get the words out, H says to the dashboard, "The fullness of time..." He looks at me, and I look at him and for just a minute, he's twenty and I'm eighteen all over again. "Yep," I say. "The fullness of time."

And that's that, because now "Boogie Oogie Oogie" is playing and the wheels are rolling across the asphalt and the sun is hanging low in the sky and the time - and our hearts - are completely full.

I'm praying that for you this weekend. Maybe not the disco part (unless, of course, you're a disco fan like me), but the part about the fullness of time. The part where God shows himself and works things out, and you know He waited for just the right moment!

Anyhow {A Prayer For The New Year}

noreply@blogger.com (Deidra) — Wed, 04 Jan 2012 14:08:00 +0000

God, forgive my continual asking for things.

I'm glad you love me and that you are holy and I am not, and that you want me near you anyhow.

This faith thing messes with my head, and I guess that's what's supposed to happen because - just when I think I've figured out how to live for you or to worship you or honor you - you step in with a different perspective.

And I remember faith isn't about what I can figure.

So, I'll keep my eyes wide open and stand here with my toes right on the edge. Because I know that you love me, and that you are holy and I am not, and that you want me near you anyhow.

(Reading More Books)

noreply@blogger.com (Deidra) — Mon, 02 Jan 2012 10:00:00 +0000

"The more that you read, the more things you will know.

The more that you learn, the more places you'll go." ~Dr. Seuss

Last week I read three books and it was like sitting in a coffee shop, catching up with my friend who moved to St. Louis more than a decade ago. While I read, I realized just how much I miss reading. I sat in a comfy chair in the corner of the living room, my feet propped up on the coffee table, wearing my favorite knit socks. I drank coffee and ate dark chocolate and wondered why I'd let reading slip away.

Resolutions aren't my cup of tea, but this year I don't want to let the reading of books get away from me. So I'm embarking on a reading extravaganza (because I like that word), and I'm calling it 25 in 2012. Extravaganza? Why, yes! I'm setting my sights on reading 25 more books this year than I did last year.

But what to read? I thought about checking out the NYT Bestsellers list, or recommendations chosen for me by Amazon. But one thing I've discovered over the years, is that you can learn a lot about a person by checking out the books on their bookshelves. And over the years, I've really enjoyed getting to know you. So, I'm hoping you'll help me out with a virtual peek at your bookshelves. In the comments, please leave me a list of up to three of your favorite books of all time. Tell me what you love about them, and why you think I need to read them.

Leave your recommendation in the comments by Friday, and I'll include the entire list of books you recommend in an upcoming post. I'll choose some of my 25 books from the ones you suggest. Then, on the last Monday of each month, I'll write something related to the extravaganza. Care to join me in reading 25 more books than you read last year? It could be fun! If you think you'd like to participate in this year-long extravaganza, feel free to grab the 25 in 2012 button below, to post at your place, and perhaps inspire more of us to read more books.

Can't wait to see what you recommend for me!

Sunday

noreply@blogger.com (Deidra) — Sun, 01 Jan 2012 02:00:00 +0000

Forget about what's happened;
don't keep going over old history.
Be alert, be present. I'm about to do something brand-new.

~Isaiah 43:19, The Message

~~~
Welcome to Sunday and this, the first Sunday link-up of 2012. Feel free to link up your Sunday post below. We like to keep it simple, so just link up a photo, along with a few simple words of encouragement. To get all the details, click the Sunday tab at the top of the page and - while you're there - grab the Sunday button to post over at your place.
(Be sure to come back tomorrow. I'm doing something new in 2012, and I'm hoping you'll join me on the journey!)

Cleansing Stream {A Guest Post by Alison Hector}

noreply@blogger.com (Deidra) — Fri, 30 Dec 2011 10:00:00 +0000

I had an Ugly Cry today. The type Oprah talks about. Yep, the snottin’, run-quick-bring-the-whole-box-of-tissues, face-contorted-into-a-pretzel, wailing-like-I-lost-all-my-friends-and-family-in-a-disaster kind of Ugly Cry.

Thing is, sadness didn’t precipitate this untelevised (mercifully) meltdown. Quite the contrary; I entered my prayer room in good spirits, intending to meet with God in my quiet time.

He had a slightly different plan.

I felt led to listen to Anthony Evans’ version of “Wonderful Merciful Savior” with headphones. Some songs just beg to be listened to with headphones. *smiles*   Well, from the first note, I knew a cry was headed my way. Didn’t expect it to roll out like quite like that, however!

You know how some folks say that God showed up during a church service? Well, they’re right; He does. And it’s a glorious, all-encompassing, life-changing corporate event.

But, bless His Name, He’s not limited to the Sunday morning service. Sometimes He shows up when--and where--you least expect Him to: at home, in the office (Lord, in the office? Really?), in the car. Right when you think it’s going to be business as usual.

And it’s always a powerful, cleansing, one-on-one event. Just you and Him.

He used the words of the song to get to a deep place in me that is reserved for Him. It’s called true, unfettered worship, born out of a flash of revelation of Who He is that changes and sobers and readjusts you from the inside out. You have no choice but to fall prostrate before Him and give Him honor.

Loudly. Through tears. Semi-coherently. The Holy Spirit will translate.

Then it morphs into praise and prayer, even intercession. Psalm 100 comes alive. You enter in with thanksgiving, press further in through praise, and kneel before him prayerfully.

As the tears flowed, a transaction and a transformation occurred.

The transaction is spiritual: we bring nothing but our emptiness to the altar; He fills us with yet another glimpse of His glory.

The transformation, too, is spiritual: from “normal” quiet time to an intense interaction with the Most High.   As Paul described it, a change from glory to glory.

I’m realizing that the best worship––and praise, and prayer––is unscripted, unplanned, and God-initiated. The cleansing stream of tears of gratitude and joy at the goodness and awesomeness of God is unparalleled in its ability to carry you back, in Matt Redman’s iconic words, to the heart of worship.

It really is all about Him. Why on earth do we think it could be about anything--or anyone--else?

~~~

Alison Hector is the author of Embrace the Struggle, a blog she describes as “a place where we share life's challenges prayerfully, joyfully, and fiercely.” She’s a full-time editor, part-time blogger, prayer warrior, professional organizing enthusiast, lover of interior decorating, and social media junkie. Follow Alison on Facebook and Twitter.

All In One Hour {A Guest Post by Mitzi Boone}

noreply@blogger.com (Deidra) — Wed, 28 Dec 2011 10:00:00 +0000

Every morning, I drop my son off at daycare and my daughter off at school, and then I make my way in to work. This morning I was scheduled to drop off my car at the repair shop at 7:30 AM.

A few houses down to right of our house, and just across the street, I was able to drop my son off at daycare at 7:00 AM. My daycare providers are a husband and wife team who happen to have five – yes, FIVE - children of their own. Their beautiful family includes four growing school-age girls and one little boy, just a year younger than mine.

I’m sure you can just imagine what weekday mornings must be like at their house. Getting all of them up, giving all of them breakfast, rushing each one out of the bathroom for the next one in line, packing lunch and finally making sure everyone is pressed and dressed with books in hand and in the car on time.

And here I come - throwing my little helpless munchkin into that mix.

This is where my son spends most of his waking hours. He is smiling when I drop him off and he is smiling when I pick him up. I thank God for my son's care givers who make it possible for me to work and provide for my family without any cause for worry.

A few houses down, and to the left of us, I was able to drop off my daughter, so she could get a ride to school. In this house live two girls: one teenager and a ‘tween my daughter’s age. The mom is studying to be a PA (Physician’s Assistant). But in the midst of their hectic lives, this morning they had the door open - waiting for my daughter when we pulled up. As a matter a fact, they asked why they hadn’t seen her more often in recent days. I told them I had not wanted to impose, with all that they have going on. All the while I was thinking inside how unselfish of them.

After the drop-offs, I sped down the block thinking about getting to the repair shop on time. Suddenly, my car slowed down and my heart became heavy…with gratitude. My neighbors have busy lives and children of their own to get up early and rush out of the house. But lovingly, they welcomed my children into their home this morning with smiles and open arms.

To top it all off, when I got to the repair shop my co-worker was there waiting for me, to drive me to work.

This journey began at 7:00 AM and ended at my desk at 8:00 AM. I received all of this neighborly love in just one hour. I am so grateful for my neighbors, how do you feel about yours?

~Mitzi

~~~

Mitzi is a wife, mother, baker and a closet poet.

She lives on Long Island with her husband and 2 children.

Her daughter is a fiesty 11 year old and her son is a curious 2 year old.

She starts each day with any kind of spiritual reading she can

get her hands on.

You can find Mitzi on Facebook.

Sunday | Day 25

noreply@blogger.com (Deidra) — Sun, 25 Dec 2011 02:00:00 +0000

I'm taking a week off to breathe and to spend a little face-time with my family.

Feel free to link up your Sunday post below. The link will be open all week. On Saturday, I'll be back with the first Sunday link-up of the new year, but please check back this Wednesday and Friday for guest posts from two new friends.

This is how God showed his love for us: God sent his only Son into the world so we might live through him. This is the kind of love we are talking about—not that we once upon a time loved God, but that he loved us and sent his Son...

I John 4:9, The Message

~~~

Merry Christmas, and welcome to Sunday.
Feel free to link up with a simple post - just a photo and some words of inspiration. You'll find the details in the Sunday tab at the top of the page, and that's where you'll also find the Sunday button to post over at your site.
Grace and peace to you today, this day of good news and great joy. For all people.

Eve | Day 24

noreply@blogger.com (Deidra) — Sat, 24 Dec 2011 10:00:00 +0000

Eve. The night before Christmas. When children will wish away the hours until dawn, and fidget in their beds. And at the same time, mom and dad will pray the hours stretch out long enough to get just a bit of shut-eye before little feet skitter across the bedroom floor at the very first light of day.

Eve. The one who ate the apple and then wished she had a robe to wear and prayed the hours would stretch out long enough to find a place to hide. And at the same time, God already knew and loved in spite of all of that. In that very moment, for a staggering price, He chose the most amazing gift to woo her from her hiding place, and light the way back to Him.

A note: The Sunday link-up will be live tonight, but today I'd like to wish you a wonderful celebration of the coming Christ. After tomorrow's post, I'll be taking a break. There will be a guest post next Wednesday, and I hope you'll stop by to check it out. But other than that, I'll be away until next Saturday night, with the Sunday link-up for New Year's Day.

Thank you for all the ways you live community here. Grace and peace to you. In abundance.

Closer | Day 23

noreply@blogger.com (Deidra) — Fri, 23 Dec 2011 10:00:00 +0000

On road trips when our kids were young, we did things old school. There were no DVD players to make the miles seem shorter. We relied on books on tape. And the alphabet game. And stops at Welcome Centers with each state line we crossed. We've covered lots of miles.

No matter what we tried, or where we traveled, at least five times along the way, a small voice would rise up from the back seat to ask, "Are we there, yet?" or "How much longer do we have to go?" or "When can we get out of this stupid car?!?!?!" I answered with the facts: No, we're not there yet. We have 326 miles to go, at 60 miles per hour, which means we probably have about...well...we still have quite a long way to go. We don't say stupid. The car isn't stupid.

None of that worked.

One day, after I'd run out of answers which meant nothing at all to the small voices rising from the back, H - in his great wisdom - answered, "We're closer than we've been all day." And that was that. He was right. And he gave us something to think about.

I think Christmas is just like that. God put on skin and moved in with the family next door - the family whose daughter sat next to you on the bus ride to school; and ever since that night in a smelly old barn, under a big bright star, we've been closer to Him than we've ever been before.

Just one more thing: I know the next two Sundays are big ones but - in case you were wondering - I'll still have the Sunday link-up ready to go on Saturday night. Don't feel pressured to participate. Just know that it will be here for you. The thing is, I have been so blessed by the images and the words you share, that I want to make sure the link-up is available to those who might drop by to share, or to receive a word of encouragement along the way.

More | Day 22

noreply@blogger.com (Deidra) — Thu, 22 Dec 2011 10:00:00 +0000

H's mom has been in the hospital for the past two weeks, and we've been asking the questions necessary when age and heart disease and modern medicine collide. Tough questions. Tougher answers. And sometimes no answers at all.

So I do what I can. I stand at the edge of our bed, in front of the window where the sun warms my back. Needle and thread in hand, I work to repair a tear in the seam of the comforter that I love. I need to take it to the laundry, but it can't be washed until it's mended. I work the tip of the needle through the layers of fabric and batting and back through fabric again and the thread joins the two edges together until you can barely tell they'd been torn apart.

I picture my mother-in-law in her hospital bed, hundreds of miles away, and I wonder if she is bored. Or afraid. And I wish I could make my way down the hallway with its industrial strength carpet and fluorescent lights and in to her room to stand by the side of her bed instead of standing here beside my own.

That afternoon, I pick up the phone and dial the number to her hospital room. Her voice on the other end is raspy and weak. I ask her how she's feeling, and what the doctor said today and she rushes past those questions to something else that's on her mind. "Dee," she says to me. "You know what? Today I heard your voice. I heard you calling my name. I heard your voice, out in the hallway. You were calling my name."

What I notice while she speaks is that I'm not surprised. Instead, I'm thinking of that comforter, with the two parts sewn together again, and how you can barely tell they'd ever been separated, and how there is more to this life and this world than we will ever know.

Home | Day 21

noreply@blogger.com (Deidra) — Wed, 21 Dec 2011 10:00:00 +0000

When I shut down the computer today at the office, that was it. I won't be going in again until 2012. I've got two days of working from home before the year is out, but today was the last day of waking up to the marimbas on the iPhone that sits charging next to my bed through the night. Today was the last day of rushing out the door with a cup of coffee in my hand. All through the day, as I worked my way through the list of things I had to do before I could call it done, I could not stop fidgeting. I am a tried and true homebody and the promise of home at the end of the day - through the end of the year - was pulling at the corners of my mind.

Someone once said if you want to know where your heart is, look where your mind goes when it wanders. My mind always wanders home. To the sound of the dishwasher in the kitchen, the laughter from H as he watches TV downstairs, the thwack of the dog's tail against the coffee table as she wags her butt with her head on my knee.

At the end of the day I can think of nothing better than to take off my tall boots and the trendy textured tights I bought on sale at the LOFT, unwrap the scarf tied so fancifully around my neck, unzip my skirt and trade it all in for H's old gray sweat pants with the elastic draw-string waist.

Tomorrow I will wake up on my own, and I will lean against the counter while the coffee brews, and throughout the day I will watch the sun move in wide slants across the hardwoods. Tomorrow, I will be home.

That picture from DaySpring is hanging on my wall, now.

At home. Where I'll be for the next few days.

Visit DaySpring Home Page

Shaken | Day 20

noreply@blogger.com (Deidra) — Tue, 20 Dec 2011 10:00:00 +0000

We bought a fake Christmas tree four years ago at Hobby Lobby's after-Christmas clearance sale. It's scrawny, and it dips to one side, right at the very top. Every year, I drag a chair in from the kitchen. I climb up on the chair and bend and twist the very tip top of the tree so that it stands up straight. And then I find a magazine to put under one corner of the tree stand and usually - if you stand at the right angle - the tree looks almost straight.

Buying that tree marked a break from our family tradition where we'd pile in the car and head for the local tree farm that offered hay rides, and cider, and even loaned you a saw for cutting down the evergreen. They'd shake the tree and tie it up and we'd drive off with that tree strapped to the hood of our car. We'd done it like that for years. But the year we bought the fake tree was the same year I just couldn't shake the sadness and I couldn't pull it together in time to make the tradition work.

That year, I'd sent the family on without me and they'd brought home a tree that our daughter decorated by herself. It was beautiful, but we all admitted it just wasn't the same. So all these years, the fake tree has been taking the place of the real trees that dry up just before Christmas, and clog up my vacuum cleaner with discarded pine needles that get stuck between the carpet and the baseboard and keep showing up until the Fourth of July.

Last night, a strand of lights on the fake but pre-lit Christmas tree went out. I jiggled the connections and plugged and replugged and still - right smack dab in the middle section of the tree - complete darkness. No dazzle. No warm glow. Just a blank space where there should be light. I sat on the arm of the love seat and stared at the lights that refuse to shine and smiled when I realized not a single thing about those burned-out lights could break my heart.

Post Script: I'm slowing down a bit in my heart, here. Maybe it's the holiness of the season. My son and daughter will be home and I imagine I'll be beaming and hugging and crying and bursting with pride and joy. I want you to know that one reason I've been able to "shake the sadness" in recent years - one of the reasons those burned out lights can't get the best of me - is this community right here. You mean the world to me. You bless me. And I thank God every time I think of you.
Thank you.