Why so quiet, Shelley?

It's December. I seem not to have much to say. Or much time to say it. Not sure which. The holiday season has been a whirlwind already. I can't tell whether I'm coming or going. Whichever direction, my hands are always full. Decorating at my own home was limited this year to a tree, some festive items in the kitchen and a something here and there. Possibly because my job involves decorating two OTHER homes. By the time I dragged the eighteenth box out of whatever attic or garage, the Christmas spirit that motivates decorating was in a puddle on my floor. I mopped it up and got to the other tasks on my to do list...which included finishing up my class projects for school, preparing program and marketing materials for "The Birth" play that I'm in, and traveling.

We're all hustle bustle this time of year. Holiday parties, work, school, play...{Breathe.}

And the past few days we've had news of every shape, size, and color come a-knockin'. Jerod's dad in the hospital, his oldest brother took two trips to the hospital this week, and my dad was suddenly asked "to retire" with no notice. Our American cars in the driveway push toward extinction. We have a long list of folks we need to put on the social calendar, but our calendar keeps eating up days. My job is giving me furlough time (furlough sounds like a nice word until you realize it's the same as UNPAID vacation--hey! time to clean out closets!).

That's not my jolly list of complaints, however. I am prayerful for our family. I am thankful to have friends who want to spend time with us. I am gleeful that we have two cars that run and that gas is cheap. And a day off here or there won't be altogether bad. I will think of it as nearly two weeks to do things I've been putting off that really need doin'.

Most of all, I'm blessed out of my skin by the Lord. He knows the plans He has for me. He is still on His throne. He longs to relate to all of us, not just observe us (props to AM for that). He wants to carry us through these trying seasons of life. He came to show us how to live through the storms, not just to save us from them. He braved body odor, mean people, and siblings, bad cooking, foot washing, and any number of human unpleasantries to come to us...to be born on a bed of hay in a stinky barn. My wee worries are His opportunities to show me once again that He will take care of me. So, in the midst of my scurry, I breathe. I thank. I worship. I remember.