"Love, Mom"

My mom always made Christmas magical.

Not like Santa and flying reindeer magical.......

....but just super, super special.

Back when I was a little girl, I had no idea just how hard she worked to make it all happen.

She saved all year long in order to be able to buy us just the right things at Christmastime. Each gift was wrapped impeccably and had a different personalized tag on it: For "Gretchie-Ketchie-Netchie-Setchie-Betchie-Detchie" or "Grrrr-Nin" or "Gretchen Noelle".

"Love, Mom".

But it really wasn't about the gifts, even then. They were simply the icing on a Christmas-flavored cake (what does Christmas taste like, you say? Mint.....and egg nog......and love).

It was about the traditions that she birthed and fostered and tended every year. It was about all being together. It was about listening to Christmas music and reading Luke 2 as a family and eating caramel rolls in the morning. It was about taking turns opening gifts so we wouldn't miss anything and playing games and putting on plays about the nativity story.

Mom handmade each of our stockings, delighted in getting us matching pajamas, and made 5 different kinds of cookies every year because, well, we each had our own kind that we would sit and make with her of course! If baking cookies meant quality time with mom, we were there. 

Being the youngest child, the older I got, the further away my older siblings moved. However, nearly every year without fail, they each returned home. Christmas was our time to be together. So a house that had been quiet burst with joyful noise. The driveway filled up. The table became crowded. There wasn't a chance of getting to watch what you wanted on TV. It took about 2 days for all of us to start getting on each other's nerves............but wow, those first 2 days were pure bliss!

This year as my own little family was decorating for Christmas, it hit me that this is the first year that Finn kind of "gets it". He loves anything to do with Christmas. He loves any movie with a Santa in it, wants our tree lit at all times, he lets out gasps of delight at seeing lights on others' houses, and He even calls snow "Christmas". 

He also is beginning to know who Jesus is because we talk about how Jesus is with him at all times. Christmas isn't Christmas without Jesus. 

With his new awareness, I feel a certain kind of pressure, a good pressure, to not only make Christmas special and memorable for my boys, but to also keep the discussion central on Jesus. 

Because Jesus is cooler than Santa. 

As much FUN as Christmas is, THIS is the time to begin teaching them:

"In your relationships with one another, have the same mindset as Christ Jesus:

Who, being in very nature God, 

did not consider equality with God as something to be used to his own advantage;

rather he made himself nothing by taking the very nature of a servant, 

being made in human likeness. 

And being found in appearance as a man, he humbled himself by becoming obedient to death

 - even death on a cross!

Therefore God exalted him to the highest place and 

gave him the name that is above every name, 

that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow,

 in heaven and on earth and under the earth, 

and every tongue acknowledge that Jesus Christ is Lord, 

to the glory of God the Father."

- Philippians 2:5-11

My sweet, squishy boys: this is the most important thing that I could ever teach you. 

Love, Mom. 

Christianese

I was born into a Christian family who literally lived at the church for the first few formative years of my life. If there was a service, we were there. If a member of our family was sick, we went anyway. We were often one of the first to arrive and most often the last to leave.

I have known God my whole life.

And except for a few rogue years in middle school, I have tried my best to be my best for Him.

I first asked Jesus into my heart when I was really little (like, so little that I don't remember).
I was baptized at the age of 7.
And I recommitted my life to God at the age of 14, sitting in the driveway with my mom.

My high school life consisted of hanging out with my youth group and a close circle of Christian friends at school.

I didn't realize it at the time, but I was wrestling hard with a judgmental spirit and a haughty attitude. I criticized others and puffed myself up for being a Christian.

My identity was not in Christ but in being a Christian.

All the while, what I thought was living righteously for God was actually breaking His heart.

I was raised in a Christian culture and I thrived. It was my niche and my Michael W. Smith serenaded "place in this world".

Recently I have watched a few videos about "Stuff Christians Say". There are several variations to these and I have to laugh when I watch them because, well, they're true.

There is a certain language, a "Christianese", that people speak when they grow up in church.

We talk about accountability and boundaries and blessing and kissing dating goodbye. These things roll off our tongues without much thought sometimes.

I know I am guilty of it.

For example, I used to be obsessed with the word secular.

In high school I sold a bunch of my cd's and movies because they were too "secular" and I felt convicted about them after a youth convention.

And I don't think it was wrong. I was trying my best to honor God, but I was doing it almost as much because it was the "good Christian" and "cool" thing to do. I was super Christian, after all.

But because my motives weren't entirely authentic, I eventually started listening to secular music again and watching those movies again.

Sidenote: I am not saying this to condemn secular music or to say that there isn't merit to listening to and acting on the sermons we hear; I am simply talking about my own experience.

Now, I don't listen to secular music because I honestly don't want to. There are songs (yes, heaven help me, even Miley Cyrus songs) that I like when I catch them on the radio. But I really just love worship music. It's what I want to listen to, it's what I want playing in my home and my car.

For me, the lasting change came about not because I heard a sermon once and felt convicted into obeying. It didn't come from an external source.

The lasting change came from the inside. It developed in my spirit, from an intimacy with God and therefore was absolutely natural and right for me.

Romans 14:22-23: "Cultivate your relationship with God, but don't impose it on others. You're fortunate if your behavior and your belief are coherent. But if you're not sure, if you notice that you are acting in ways that are inconsistent with what you believe - some days trying to impose your opinions on others, other days just trying to please them, then you know that you're out of line. If the way you live isn't consistent with what you believe, then it's wrong."

I guess what I am trying to say and why I am even writing about all of this...........is out of gratitude.

It is easy to simply exist in a culture, but I am just so stinking thankful that God didn't leave me in my judgmental, ignorantly striving, well-meaning state.

He allowed me the grace and room to learn what it really means to be a Christian: not pointing the finger but opening the arms; not hoarding 'experiences' but sharing the wealth; not only socializing with other Christians but reaching out to where the need is; not blindly obeying an authority figure but following the leading of the Holy Spirit within me.

Romans 12:9: "Love from the center of who you are, don't fake it."

Remembering

Yesterday after naps, my sister and I rounded up our boys and Mom and Bryan (who had flowers in hand) and made a family trip to the cemetery.

Cemeteries aren't typically a romp roarin' time.

But every time I visit, I enjoy reading the gravestones of those whom I do not know. I gaze at their names, the years they were born, how old they were when they died. I try to imagine what they looked like, marriages, children, what kind of job they may have had, what life was like during the years they were alive.

It may sound a touch creepy, but I love people's stories.

As we trudged through grass and chased down runaway boys (no wait, maybe that was just me chasing), we talked memories.

For 'twas Memorial Day, after all.

As we stood at my brother's headstone, I found myself watching Finn play nearby with his cousins. And it hit me - suddenly - how life has just..........gone on.

For my brother, Matt, life halted in that moment when he passed. But for the rest of us, life has progressed. It was a beautiful October day when our family stood in that same spot and said a final goodbye. That was 17 years ago; I was a 13 year old adolescent grappling with the loss of my brother. Now I stood in that exact same spot as a 30 year old woman, watching my sweet son play with his cousins and marveling at the spin of life.

As the boys took turns climbing on Matt's headstone, my mom said something that brought tears to my eyes and sent them rolling down my cheeks:

"Matt would have loved having you boys climb all over. Because he would have loved you all so much."

We each shared happy memories of Matt. Kiki shared of their long talks when she was in college. Mom shared about the way he threw his head back when he laughed. Bryan shared of how tall he stood when he walked mom down the aisle at their wedding. I shared about how he cleaned and bandaged my leg after a bad fall at the tennis courts.

On the day of Matt's funeral, our worship pastor at the time, Pastor Mark, came up to my mom and delivered a sweet gift. He told her that he saw Matt in heaven with grandpa (my mom's dad). Grandpa said that he was taking care of him.

That is a treasure that our entire family has held onto since that day.

The hope of heaven is real. It can cover, like a balm, the loss that is felt when we remember our lost loved ones.

Hope is a gift on Memorial Day.

Thirty, Flirty, and Thriving

The movie "13 Going on 30" begins with Jennifer Garner's character at 13, desperately wishing to be 30 years old. Her character, Jenna, imagines that 30 is the pinnacle of supreme happiness, which is aided by a magazine article titled "Thirty, Flirty, and Thriving!". She imagines that at 30 she would have a glamorous job, a fabulous wardrobe, and a handsome boyfriend or two. Plus, as a bonus, she would no longer have to stuff her bra.

I remember watching this movie for the first time, thinking that all the things that she desired at 30 were pretty "meh". With 30 as such a big milestone, girls are prone to think about where they would like to be at that time in their lives. And at 30, I knew that all I wanted was to be married, have a child (or 2), and be happy. Except the wardrobe......I could be talked into the fabulous wardrobe  :).

As I hit said milestone this week, I embrace it completely, grateful for the blessings in my life and excited for the future.

I was reading another blog last week that had this idea to write a letter to yourself as a child, addressing some things you regret and wouldn't mind changing. I figured there was no better time than a milestone birthday to look back on my own life and write a letter to the little me.


Dear Little Gretchen,

Be nice to others. Remember that you do not need to be mean to make others like you or think that you are "cool". Always be kind to the girl who doesn't seem like she gets to shower enough and don't join in when your friends start to make fun of another. If you can find the courage, be the one that sticks up for those who can't stick up for themselves.

Always respect your mom. She will sacrifice a lot for you and it is because of her that you will one day be a strong and loving woman.

Your dad may not always love you the way that you wish he would. Love him the best that you can anyway.

Your siblings are some of the most amazing people you will ever know. Enjoy them and don't make them watch all of your dance routines.

Don't tattle on your brother. He deserves your loyalty because he looks out for you.

One day you will meet a girl named Chanelle who will prove to be the best friend you ever have. Try to always be kind to her and put her first, because she will put you first a lot. That is just the kind of person she is.

One day, almost overnight, you are going to turn from an outgoing kid into a shy adolescent. Try to find the courage to talk to others because the more you practice being outgoing - the easier it will become.

You won't always be cute:

You will go through a gangly hair, t-zone troubled, fashion challenged stage in early high school (photo unavailable). But don't feel bad about yourself. Just work what you got.
















Whatever you do, don't start rolling your eyes. It's a terrible habit to break, and it makes you look ridiculous.

When you are 14 years old, you will rededicate your life to God. This will change your life in many ways. Whatever you do, do not become self-righteous about the changes in your heart. This takes away from what Jesus did for you. God wants you to be gracious and merciful like He is; don't make others feel guilty for not having the same convictions that you do. Just love them.

As you grow up, you will face heartache several times. It is okay to hurt at these times. But don't waste too many tears or allow yourself to feel unlovely. There is an incredible guy that rejoices in marrying you one day.

I know you are dramatic, and that is okay. Drama is cool. But sometimes, your troubles just need a good cry, an honest prayer, and a shoulder to cry on......rather than a 5 alarm freak out.

When you turn 30, life is gooooooooooood.

Thank God.

The Family Tree

Ah, November. Welcome, friend!

This day marks the beginning of my favorite time of year: holidays, family, traditions....I get butterflies just thinking of it all!

I have long argued that November 1st is the marker for holiday celebrations. It is now officially not crazy to listen to Christmas music, light my candle that smells like a Christmas tree, and buy egg nog.

Other things that are on my "must list":
- treat myself to a Starbucks holiday drink at least once a week until Christmas (last year I was pregnant and couldn't partake; that makes this year's drinks even more rewarding!)
- make a sad face every time Matt mentions that he really doesn't want to hang up the Christmas lights this year
- begin my annual viewing spree of Christmas movies: every year it seems that there are more to get through so I always have to start earlier
- begin planning Finn's first birthday party
- be on the lookout for these bad boys:

Seriously the best candy ever

- make Matt dinner for breaking our Christmas tree out of the back corner of our storage room. Err, actually, it would probably be nicer to let him make dinner. 

- teach Finn not to touch or climb on said Christmas tree

- begin teaching Finn the reason that we celebrate Christmas

- I suppose I need to fit in studying for my final and writing my self-assessment paper. Bah humbug. 

- spend this season in gratitude for the amazing blessings in my life

Holiday to-do lists are something that Kiki and I started when I was in college as a way of making sure that we fit our hoard of family traditions into the week or two that we were together each season. I tracked down our first one (our best one, really): 

- Drink egg nog and sit by the fire

- Visit family at the farm

- Get into our pajamas at 6 p.m. and don't get back out until 4 p.m. the next day

- Play Catchphrase (until someone gets mad)

- Drive around and look at Christmas lights

- Shop 'til we drop

- Sing Christmas carols while holding hands

- Go to a cheap movie and eat popcorn

- Head stand contest

- Listen to mom play the piano

- Go to Target and see who can buy the most with $5

- Swim suit contest

- Make snow angels for two hours

- Sledding at Tuthill

- Drive by each old house and reminisce on old Christmas memories

- Color Christmas pictures and hang them on the fridge

- Take as long as possible to open our stockings

- Dress Kody in a Santa costume

- Eat lots of junk food and have a pregnant belly contest

- Sleep in Christmas outfits and see whose is most wrinkle-resistant come morning

Mom later added many more sane ideas to our to-do list, including bringing others food, spending time one-on-one with each other, taking turns making dinner, taking walks in the snow underneath the stars, and loving each other by practicing tolerance and patience. She is such a mom :). 

Going back over these lists and memories in my head makes me appreciate my family and our traditions so very much. Maybe that is why I love the Christmas season so much: it is the one time of year when my family comes back together, at least for a little while. Being the youngest, a good chunk of my childhood was lived with my siblings having moved from home and living other places. 

But once a year, they almost certainly come home. Once a year, we are a physical family. 

This song is my new favorite Christmas song by my one of my favorite artists, Dave Barnes. It makes me cry almost every time and long for my family to just be here already.

And wow, I am tearing up as I write and this post just got a whole lot more emotional than I thought it would. Signing off with my good pal DB singing me away.

16 Years

The little yellow house on 4th Ave was a safe place. It was where our family released and relaxed and just was.

October 13, 1995; it was in this yellow house that I climbed the stairs to go to bed that Friday night. Kiki was away at college so it was just me upstairs with the sloped ceilings and trick closet.

About 2 a.m., I awoke from my sleep by the ringing of our doorbell, by swift knocking. I rolled out of bed wondering what could possibly be so important to warrant knocking AND ringing at such a time in the morning? The drama of the possibilities pulled me from my room and down the narrow staircase.

As I reached the bottom stair, I watched as my step-dad strode to the front door to respond to the ringing/knocking noise. When I saw a pair of policemen, I felt a flurry of nervous butterflies in my belly, wondering if one of my siblings had gotten into some trouble.

Bryan spoke briefly with the policemen and then I watched as he made his way down the hallway to my mom, who was just coming from their bedroom.

I was the sole witness as he told her what the police had told him. I watched as she broke down.

I continued to watch, not knowing what else to do. In my 13 years of experience, I had never seen anything like this before.

My anxiety was increasing....what would cause my mom to break down so? She didn't break down, ever. She was a rock. Our rock.

I watched still as she somehow found her way through the kitchen and began walking downstairs. I followed, my stomach tight. What was going on?! Mom had seated herself near the bottom of the steps in order to talk with my brother, Josh.

Had Josh done something? Was he in trouble?

I sat quietly, nervously at the top of the stairs.

"Matthew was killed in a car accident tonight."

And with those words, life changed, safety shattered.

I don't remember getting up from the stairs, but I do remember the phone calls to my sisters and my dad.

I remember waking up the next morning in my mom's bed and thinking that the police could have somehow made a mistake.

I remember looks of concern and pity.

I remember standing in the kitchen in a circle with my siblings, each holding one of Matt's bandanas and each crying.

I remember thinking over and over again, "But just last week he was standing right there in the doorway making fun of our pumpkin decorating skills..."

It has been 16 years, but those moments are seared into my memory like a bright red brushstroke against an otherwise blurry photograph. And the truth is, I don't ever want to forget. There is something sacred in remembering the moments that change your life forever.

Tennis, Anyone?

My sister and I got out yesterday to play tennis. We used to spend our summers doing this - I'm pretty sure we had our own court on reserve at all times at McKennan Park! I had forgotten how much FUN it is to play, even if we did have four little monkey men running around on the court with us!

We decided to play at Lincoln High School (our alma mater) and it brought me back to when those courts were my second home. I was on the tennis team all four years of high school and those courts took a little of my blood, a lot of my sweat, and a few of my tears.

As Kiki and I were playing, I recalled one particular memory on those courts that happened my senior year. Our team was practicing, and our coach pulled me and two other girls aside. The three of us were all seniors, and all were going to be playing another year on the JV team instead of the varsity.

This really came as no surprise to any of us. Our team was amazing - 2 time state champs positioned to take the title again, our varsity ironically consisted of only two seniors.......and an 8th grader, a 9th grader and two 10th graders. But they were all so good! So very, very good! We supported them and rooted for them and were all great friends. There was no jealousy or vying for the top spots, at least that I can remember in looking back with these rose-colored glasses :).

That is why when our coach pulled us aside, us three were a little confused. He proceeded to tell us that when seniors don't make varsity their final year, he always offered them an easy out to leave the team - no questions asked. It being the final year, I think he saw it as an offering of grace. But it just baffled me.

Why wouldn't I want to play? I loved tennis - enough to put up with the 90 degree weather, weekend-filled tournaments and endless rounds of "running the ladder" during practices. The thought of not playing just because I didn't make the top squad was truly absurd.

Apparently it was absurd enough to me that when the coach was finished talking, I gave him a look that let him know just how absurd I thought it was. At the senior banquet that year, he told that story about the three of us and the infamous look I had given him. I think his exact words were something like, "I remember Gretchen especially looking at me like, 'What are you talking about?!'"

Looking back on that story, I wish that I were still more like that. I wish that I would do more things for the sheer love of doing them and more often disregard the opinion of others. There are times that I refrain from doing things if I don't feel like I will excel at them. It seems to me that the older I get, the more I allow fear to hold me back. I fear that I will fail. I fear that I will look like an idiot.

To my coach, it was a bit strange for seniors to want to play on the tennis team if they weren't on varsity. To me, my coach was wrong.

I suppose that the moral of this story is to not let what others think hold us back from the desires that are in our hearts. I wasn't the most experienced or talented tennis player on that team by any stretch of the imagination, but I know that God used me that season on that team because He called me to it. "And don't be wishing you were someplace else or with someone else. Where you are right now is God's place for you. Live and obey and love and believe right there" (1 Corinthians 7:17 MSG).

If I had listened to the coach that day or given his opinion more weight than my own, I would have quit the team and missed a wonderful season and deepening friendships and celebrating another state title with my girls.

If you believe in God and seek him whole-heartedly, trust yourself and the ability that God has given You to hear His voice and walk in His will. Don't give fear a say.

"With all this going for us, my dear, dear friends, stand your ground. And don't hold back. Throw yourselves into the work of the Master, confident that nothing you do for him is a waste of time or effort" (1 Corinthians 15:58 MSG)

"Keep your eyes open, hold tight to your convictions, give it all you've got, be resolute, and love without stopping" (1 Corinthians 16:13-14)