Christmastime

It is officially the Christmas season! I'm grateful for this special time. For Christmas trees, and in particular the Fraser Fir now adorned with white lights and shiny Christmas balls that is keeping me company tonight.
And for Christmas Carols, that make any day brighter and warmer.
But mostly, for Jesus and for his precious life. And for the way this whole season carries residual magic from when God was born on earth. It's not a Hallmark thing, or even a media thing. Christmas has always been special, since before TV sing-a-longs and Rockefeller Center. Even since before Mariah Carey's seasonal album.
I think there is something precious and pure about the Advent that nature itself celebrates. Air molecules, mountain peaks, the deer that survive hunting season all sense the profundity of this time. That angels perhaps sing another rendition of the song that terrified the shepherds. The seen and unseen worlds connect in a way closer than normal, in memory of that day, two-thousand-and-some years ago, when Jesus put one foot in each.
The first Christmas was a celebration complete with choir harmonies, lavish gifts, and brilliant stars. A moment in time when all was as it should be. Not easy, and not an escape from reality. But rather a taste of what life is meant to be. The way things really are, or at least the way they will be when the darkness is over. There was not sadness on that night. It was a tiny sliver of Heaven on Earth and that is what calls to the well of my soul.

And, skip.

'Tis the season for those cheesy jewelry commercials featuring a guy of variable age who buys a diamond set in yellow gold and a woman who just about wets herself when she sees the box. If the most exciting part of a new piece of jewelry is the box, something is wrong. If every kiss you ever have truly begins with a jeweler, mall or otherwise, something is wrong.

All this makes me grateful, once again, for DVRs. You can fast forward through all commercials. Especially those designed to replicate what men who don't know what to buy think women fantasize about.

The extra

Can you imagine starting Black Friday without leftover dressing and green bean casserole?
This girl can't. Some things get better with age. I submit that Thanksgiving dressing is one of them. I'm not sure if the actual taste improves, or if it's the knowledge that 363 days stand between me and another serving, but let me tell you, I licked my fork clean.

I'm so glad that on Thanksgiving, we have more than enough. I suppose I'm grateful for that on every day, but I'm particularly aware of it now, sated as I am with leftovers.

And, on a somewhat parallel note, I am so glad God is bigger than what I need. WAAAY bigger. I can't conceive of what He has in store, can't need more than He can provide, can't even wrap my head around the bounty of who God is. As much of Him as I gobble up, there will always be more and new for tomorrow. It's like that verse in (wait for it...getting on biblegateway...) and I think Paul says it perfectly, so I"ll pass the pen to him.

Ephesians 3:19-21 "Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us, to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, for ever and ever! Amen. "

40,000 down, 10,000 to go!

I write today from the cozy and familiar cafe table of Borders. It's not my Borders, but it's been so long since I got to enjoy their trademark ambiance that I'm soaking it up. I can see, just beyond the magazine racks, countless volumes waiting to be read.
It is grand. And inspiring. And as I continue to scrape my way towards fifty thousand words this month, I need all the inspiration I can get.
So, thank you, Jesus, that you are everywhere and for the creative ideas you foster and for Borders. And for the unique and unbeatable combination of coffee and milk. And for laptops.
All my love.

Lugging

I am working my way westward to Oklahoma City today to see the family for Thanksgiving. This means Dirk the Blue Impala and I get seven hours of quality time today. Dirk is already loaded up and riding a little bit lower than normal. He's got my red suitcase that could easily hold a small country in the trunk, two computers, and enough Monsters to wake Lazarus. Again.

One of the reasons I like road trips is the ability to bring way more clothing than even the highest maintenance diva would use on a tour around the world.
And the aforementioned supply of Monster. Were I flying, I would have had to consider each article, choose separates that could be combined into multiple outfits, and squirted all my liquids into 3 oz. containers. But with Dirk, I just turned on a Christmas movie and tossed stuff at my suitcase until it was full.

I am rather hard pressed to think of a deeper spiritual justification for cramming the Impala with quantities of stuff that will probably come back unused. But here goes: God is big enough for all our baggage! And then some! And then some more!

While Dirk has a massive trunk, even he reaches capacity at some point. I haven't found that point yet, but as he's bound by the laws of physics, I know it's out there. But God invented physics, and He's bigger than a trunk. And not only does He want me to cart my luggage to him, but he'll carry it for me.

Dearest Lord, thank you that I am never too nuts for you. That my baggage, both real and imagined, is safe within your hands. That you are ripped and so my stuff is never too heavy for your broad shoulders. All my love!

Nearly dead

It has been a grueling week in my corner of the world. God has been good and hidden little raisins of delight amidst the gruel, primarily in the form of people who are too funny to adequately describe. All the same, I'm so glad it's Friday and so grateful to be living in a society where weekends are free days. And, I thank God on High that Blackberry batteries die if you choose not to plug them in on a Friday morning...

Spared

In church on Sunday the pastor was talking about Nehemiah 9. (Quality book of the Bible that I think is underplayed.) To end the service we had a time of confession...silent, thank heavens, but still, we all sat there for while with the singular intent of purging our souls.

It
was
so
cool.

Confession is so underrated. It is one of the most freeing things we can do. Yet it gets ignored because, a) it's a little uncomfortable. I don't like looking at the ugly side of me. And because b) we forget how powerful the Holy Spirit is. Or at least I do.

I tend ask forgiveness and focus on the fact that God, in his grace, delivers me from the death my wrongness deserves, as in, I get to go to Heaven instead of Hell. But an equally, if not more, beautiful deliverance is that from the sin itself. I no longer have to walk in that way. Even thoughts, slippery fish that they are, can be contained and directed by the Holy Spirit.

Perhaps this is a duh for most people, but I was just struck with amazement that God will forgive me three and a half million more times for doing the same dumb thing. BUT that He doesn't have to, if I truly release myself to the Holy Spirit.

It's not an "Okay, Kimberly, get up and try again." It's more like, "You know what? You lay there and rest in my shadow, kiddo, and I'll deal with this issue." That's not to say that resting in God's shadow is an easy thing. I can't hardly keep my mitts to myself. But, it is a stunning promise to know that when I fail to manage my own life according to God's standards, I'm only doing what he expects. And from that place in the dust where I land after my best efforts, He can use me and work in me and pour love over me more effectively than when I strive in my own power.

Thank you, Lord, not just for sparing me the consequences of sin, but for sparing me from the control of sin. Thank you for your might and for the moments when I actually see you at work in me. You are most beautiful. All my love!

Going, Going.....stil Going

Nanowrimo is officially halfway through and I've stayed on track. So I'm grate for stamina.

And, I'm grateful for the bottom of the sorbet pint. Because otherwise I'd never stop.

abbreviated funness

Nano week 2:

I'm grateful for hot cocoa. Yum. And new Christmas CDs. Yum. And word count. Yum.

The extra chunks

Okay, I've been thinking about this one Bible story for a while.
It's a pretty common one about Jesus found in Matthew 14:13-21. Jesus feeds five thousand people with two fishes and five loaves of bread that a conscientious mother packed for her son before sending him out to listen to the rabbi.

I've been a Christian for 24 years now, raised in Sunday School and Children's church. I saw a flannelgraph of this story back when they used those. Every time I read it, I think, "Wow, Jesus is so cool. He can create. Really. Still." And then I thank him and pray for mustard-seed faith.
But this time, for the first time ever, my whole mind hitched on a new element, found in verse 20. And I quote, "They all ate and were satisfied, and the disciples picked up twelve basketfuls of broken pieces that were left over."

Twelve baskets of broken pieces that were picked up. I don't think they tidied up to guard against littering fines. I think Jesus and his men, and probably some of the hungry who came, ate those pieces. The blessing didn't end when the last person tore a hunk off the never-ending loaf, it kept blessing for twelve whole baskets.

I hate to admit it, but I think if I'd been there and Jesus told us to pick it up, I'd be like "Why? Everyone's had enough already. We don't need it. Besides, some of it has fallen on the ground. There could be grass bits."

But Jesus didn't consider that. Blessing is not just for the moment, not only for the immediate need. If we're good stewards and can see outside of one moment, we will be amazed at how many people one blessing can touch. Crazy.

Thank you, God, that you overwhelm me in moments. And thank you that those moments are in fact timeless through your crazy power to reach through time, space, circumstance. Please let me not waste your blessing. Let me not eat my fill and drop crumbs to the ground. Show me where there is extra bread in my life that I might gather it up and create blessings beyond my moment, that your name may be greater praised and your love more broadly felt.
All my love!

It's what time?

It is late and I haven't started my Nanowrimo stuff yet. So I'm grateful for the Soundtrack to Dan in Real Life and chai tea and Friday.

Join the club

Panera Bread has a new thing with cards, like a Kroger card, only with a picture of bread on the front.

I put the tab-version on my keychain. I kind of like tabbies. They make me feel like I belong somewhere. And this particular tabby has, in two weeks, given me two free espresso drinks. Now that is a generous piece of plastic.

Thank you, God, for espresso drinks and most especially for the free ones! All my love.

3016.

I have been sitting in my red leather chair for about six hours doing the novel thing. (Granted, that includes a twenty minute snooze...letting my brain relax, you understand. All part of the process.)
Now, as it is past my bedtime and my mind is whimpering in the corner, I am grateful for the calculator feature on my computer. Because adding two four-digit numbers together is beyond me.
Two days down, 28 to go.
Thank you, God, for words. For naps. For months only being 30 days instead of 40.

NaNoWriMo

So it's National Write a Novel Month. Which means I'm pumping out six plus pages a day. Waaay above my normal, conservative minimum.
This means two things.
One, it will be even more important than ever that I find a bright spot in days that could easily be sucked up by the stress of being creative on command.
Two, I will not have a lot of time or extra words for this, my beloved blog.
So, I will continue to post but it will be unusually concise.

Starting today, I'm grateful for Nordy's online catalog. I found my hero and heroine BOTH. And they're just adorable. Can't wait 'til they fall in love!