God with us...[in the details]
I love the advent of the holiday season. I love snuggling inside with my three littles--baking pumpkin pie before Thanksgiving just because, floating marshmallows on top of steaming hot cocoa, pulling out sweaters and hats and gloves, taking trips to the library that end in blankets and snuggles on the sofa, the first snow. We've been enjoying all this and more lately. My mind is already collecting ways to spruce up for Christmas, which is to my surprise, just around the corner. I'm thinking old mason jars, a string of big bulbs, a drill, and some red berry garland. Christmas wish lists have been started and names drawn. Our old furnace cranks away when the sun sets now at 4:30. It's the darkest season and the brightest. We make light with our merry.
One of the things that always strikes me about this time of year is how close we dwell to both dark and light. The days are short. We rise and set by the moon's light. We catch sun in small snips and the sharp wind seems to whisk away its warmth even before it reaches us on the ground. And yet, we prepare to gather and to give thanks and to bow down. We draw closer to Light in the absence of light. I've been sharply aware of this the last couple of days--this intentional drawing towards Light while day takes its wintry leave.
The baby boy and I took an impromptu trip to MI to see my little sis play in the NCAA Division III Volleyball nationals. The games were awesome and I loved the freedom of hanging out with my family while little guy spent time with his grandma and grandpa, aunt and uncle, and cousins. We also had the opportunity to visit a school with a fantastic special education program. I loved seeing K at play with kids of all abilities in the inclusive ed room. And I loved the way teachers and typical students interacted with the special students served by this program. The principal of the school aptly pointed out that the effort is community-wide; a special ed program in a private school isn't run by a single person or a contained department. It's facilitated by a community of like-minded teachers and families, all of whom are committed to the idea that all children deserve a top-notch education. To that I add my emphatic, "Yes!"
All in all, we had lots of fun. But the trip didn't end so well, and instead of flying home we spent Sunday in two ERs after K got his finger crushed in a door. This kind of emergency was a first for this mama and hopefully a last. We are very thankful for the people who rallied around us to get us where we needed to go (thank you, Tom!), who sat in waiting rooms with us, who held my hand and my head for the worst parts (Meg!), and who held my boy while he endured more than a squirt like him should have to (my parents and Mark's parents). We are also thankful for the pediatric specialists at DeVos Children's Hospital for their expert care and patience with a large group of frazzled family. And we are so very thankful to be home again and to see our little man's finger healing well so far. Despite what looked like the worst, we have been told that he will likely regain full use of his middle, right finger. It's amazing how regenerative a young body is!
It would be easy to get bitter about this most recent setback--doesn't our guy have enough going against him in this world? Believe me, I asked that question through many tears on Sunday. I had my pity party about the worst possible outcomes and my share of angry moments at doctors who took too long and radiologists who were not gentle.
But I've also been acutely conscious through the whole ordeal of how God is at work in the details. If more of K's hand had been involved, if my sister and her boyfriend had not been at my in-laws' house when they were, if my parents had already left town, if we hadn't been sent to the Children's hospital, if, if, if. For every why us there is a thanks to be sent up.
I am and ever will be befuddled by the pain and suffering that wrack "this side of paradise," as my mom calls it. I stifle outrage at the ways in which innocent children are made to live in war-torn lands, lives in danger at every turn. And yet, I cannot help but see with eyes that look into the dark and find Light among us. Am I naive? Maybe. But I think what keeps us afloat this time of the year isn't all the glitz and trappings (though I am a sucker for kitschy holiday cheer of all kinds). What keeps us afloat is God in the details. Look at the facts and you might hang your head. Look for the light and you find it shining through all the cracks. I think that means that God works in relationship with us. He fine-tuned a terrible circumstance for us, all of which led to a finger saved for a little boy who needs all the body power he can get.
I don't fully understand why this or any evil thing is allowed to happen. And I understand that not every outcome is as positive as ours. But what I do know is that things could have been so much worse had it not been for the countless little incidents that fell into place just when they needed to. And for that we are so thankful--for those who were there when we needed them and most of all for abundant grace.
The shiny foil-wrapped, bow-ensconced thing that is the American holiday season means little without the grace gift. This week we celebrate its abundance in our lives.
One of the things that always strikes me about this time of year is how close we dwell to both dark and light. The days are short. We rise and set by the moon's light. We catch sun in small snips and the sharp wind seems to whisk away its warmth even before it reaches us on the ground. And yet, we prepare to gather and to give thanks and to bow down. We draw closer to Light in the absence of light. I've been sharply aware of this the last couple of days--this intentional drawing towards Light while day takes its wintry leave.
The baby boy and I took an impromptu trip to MI to see my little sis play in the NCAA Division III Volleyball nationals. The games were awesome and I loved the freedom of hanging out with my family while little guy spent time with his grandma and grandpa, aunt and uncle, and cousins. We also had the opportunity to visit a school with a fantastic special education program. I loved seeing K at play with kids of all abilities in the inclusive ed room. And I loved the way teachers and typical students interacted with the special students served by this program. The principal of the school aptly pointed out that the effort is community-wide; a special ed program in a private school isn't run by a single person or a contained department. It's facilitated by a community of like-minded teachers and families, all of whom are committed to the idea that all children deserve a top-notch education. To that I add my emphatic, "Yes!"
All in all, we had lots of fun. But the trip didn't end so well, and instead of flying home we spent Sunday in two ERs after K got his finger crushed in a door. This kind of emergency was a first for this mama and hopefully a last. We are very thankful for the people who rallied around us to get us where we needed to go (thank you, Tom!), who sat in waiting rooms with us, who held my hand and my head for the worst parts (Meg!), and who held my boy while he endured more than a squirt like him should have to (my parents and Mark's parents). We are also thankful for the pediatric specialists at DeVos Children's Hospital for their expert care and patience with a large group of frazzled family. And we are so very thankful to be home again and to see our little man's finger healing well so far. Despite what looked like the worst, we have been told that he will likely regain full use of his middle, right finger. It's amazing how regenerative a young body is!
It would be easy to get bitter about this most recent setback--doesn't our guy have enough going against him in this world? Believe me, I asked that question through many tears on Sunday. I had my pity party about the worst possible outcomes and my share of angry moments at doctors who took too long and radiologists who were not gentle.
But I've also been acutely conscious through the whole ordeal of how God is at work in the details. If more of K's hand had been involved, if my sister and her boyfriend had not been at my in-laws' house when they were, if my parents had already left town, if we hadn't been sent to the Children's hospital, if, if, if. For every why us there is a thanks to be sent up.
I am and ever will be befuddled by the pain and suffering that wrack "this side of paradise," as my mom calls it. I stifle outrage at the ways in which innocent children are made to live in war-torn lands, lives in danger at every turn. And yet, I cannot help but see with eyes that look into the dark and find Light among us. Am I naive? Maybe. But I think what keeps us afloat this time of the year isn't all the glitz and trappings (though I am a sucker for kitschy holiday cheer of all kinds). What keeps us afloat is God in the details. Look at the facts and you might hang your head. Look for the light and you find it shining through all the cracks. I think that means that God works in relationship with us. He fine-tuned a terrible circumstance for us, all of which led to a finger saved for a little boy who needs all the body power he can get.
I don't fully understand why this or any evil thing is allowed to happen. And I understand that not every outcome is as positive as ours. But what I do know is that things could have been so much worse had it not been for the countless little incidents that fell into place just when they needed to. And for that we are so thankful--for those who were there when we needed them and most of all for abundant grace.
The shiny foil-wrapped, bow-ensconced thing that is the American holiday season means little without the grace gift. This week we celebrate its abundance in our lives.