I made cinnamon rolls today...loads and loads of cinnamon rolls. My feet and back hurt, but oh my gooey goodness the rolls are delish! While I was rolling out dough, adding copious amounts of butter and sugar, and making cinnamon deliciousness, the girls were napping. I personally love naptime. Calm comes back to the house and I can let my mind wander and think about things that are un-child related if I wish. Since it's Christmastime, I've been reading through the Christmas story and each time I read it, I am struck by something "new". Here's what hit a chord this time around...
When Herod figured out the wisemen weren't coming to tell him where Jesus was, he sent out his soldiers and they killed every child 2 years and under in the area Jesus would've been living at that time. I find it interesting that the writer records how the mothers responded...they cried out, they wouldn't be comforted. As a mom of a 2-year-old, that brought me to tears...and is again at this moment. To think of my Audrey taken from me because of the selfish desires of someone else to rid the known world of another king...it's unthinkable. Yet hundreds of mothers lost their children for this very reason. I'm guessing they were all Jewish, and had all heard of the Promised One coming. Did any of them realize that in losing their child, they were gaining a King? Would that bring comfort to know the Messiah, their long awaited Emmanuel had come? In my own heart, I would've battled wanting the immediate joy...my child...versus the big picture...knowing that the Deliverer was here and would reunite us. Could I put aside my immediate gratification (per se), for the knowledge that the Saviour had come and with Him, the message of eternal hope for all? Ouch.
I want to say "Yes". Yes, of course I would give up my child - willingly - so that others could come to know the Jesus I know, to hear of eternal life, to live life with hope that is unexplainable. How utterly unselfish of me. I can't though...I can't say that. There is only one who gave His only child so we could have life. God the Father. I can't compare my sense of parenthood to His...Ha! Laughable. He is LOVE. I have so much to learn.
What bigger picture should I be focusing on this Christmas season? What instant gratification is getting my attention instead? My girls don't have new Christmas dresses...and I feel really badly about this. They won't have a pretty, new, frilly dress to wear on Christmas morning to church. But, wait...what? Yes, dresses...that's what it all cumulated to in my mind as I rolled cinnamon rolls. Here's the thing: They will most likely not remember what dress they wore, or that I went to store after store looking for a 2T & 5 that coordinated...but not matched ;o) But I think they'll remember if I took time to be with them, played with them, read to them, discussed the true meaning of Christmas, loved on them, if I was patient in my responses, excited to share the true joy of this season. That's the big picture. The fact that they'll be wearing the same dresses they did last week at their program will mean nothing to them in 10 years...or 10 minutes. How does the true meaning of Christmas get lost? Even on those of us who desire to keep the focus on Christ and His unselfish gift of love? I lose perspective so easily...I should focus on THAT more often.
Saturday, December 24, 2011
Sunday, December 4, 2011
The Church Piano
The day my mom introduced me to the church piano, she got a free babysitter. Living next door to the church had very few perks, but this was one of them. At any time of the day or night, I could go next door and play as loud or weird as I wanted to on a baby grand piano...and no one complained. In fact, I don't remember many times that my mom even sent someone over to bring me back home! It would just be me and the glorious sound of the baby grand in the large space of our auditorium...bliss for a girl seeking acceptance and unable to find it in any other venue.
Tonight I went up to our little church we recently joined and played the piano. It was like stepping back in time as I entered the dark building -- so many memories came flooding back. The echo of the auditorium as I walked down the aisle. The sounds a building makes when no one is there to hear them. The freeness to sit and empty my soul through my fingers. Turning the lights off as I walked out the back, and the blast of cold air when I opened the door. Each one of these things took me back to the place I grew up. Like looking out into the blackness of the auditorium and knowing my dad had snuck upstairs into the overflow and was sitting listening as though it was his own private concert. Hitting the keys in frustration when I couldn't get the timing right or memorize correctly for my recitals. Crying, laying my head down by the sheet music as I wondered how I was going to get out of the mess I made, and how could I do this to my Jesus? Listening to the stillness and asking God questions about life. Playing my heart to my Friend because my words seemed so trite. Stepping out the back door and watching to miss the patch of ice that always forms there. The clear, crisp air would snap me back into reality and I would enter the house and my world again.
I bonded with that building. The hours I spent there, the dilemas I worked through on the piano bench, the elation and misery I experienced there...so much of myself was found and identified in that auditorium sitting on a black piano bench. I was a child. I was a teen. I grew up. And when contemplating where to get married, I knew. My church. Yes, it was the place my dad was pastoring, but that's not the actual reason I chose it. The same walls that I ran to for solace and consolation, I wanted for my wedding day.
Thirty minutes of piano playing went by like nothing tonight. In fact, I was surprised to hear my timer going off because I had only played two songs. But that's what a church piano affords me that nothing else does...a place to be off the clock and alone, and maybe to find what has changed since the last time I opened up to a church piano.
Tonight I went up to our little church we recently joined and played the piano. It was like stepping back in time as I entered the dark building -- so many memories came flooding back. The echo of the auditorium as I walked down the aisle. The sounds a building makes when no one is there to hear them. The freeness to sit and empty my soul through my fingers. Turning the lights off as I walked out the back, and the blast of cold air when I opened the door. Each one of these things took me back to the place I grew up. Like looking out into the blackness of the auditorium and knowing my dad had snuck upstairs into the overflow and was sitting listening as though it was his own private concert. Hitting the keys in frustration when I couldn't get the timing right or memorize correctly for my recitals. Crying, laying my head down by the sheet music as I wondered how I was going to get out of the mess I made, and how could I do this to my Jesus? Listening to the stillness and asking God questions about life. Playing my heart to my Friend because my words seemed so trite. Stepping out the back door and watching to miss the patch of ice that always forms there. The clear, crisp air would snap me back into reality and I would enter the house and my world again.
I bonded with that building. The hours I spent there, the dilemas I worked through on the piano bench, the elation and misery I experienced there...so much of myself was found and identified in that auditorium sitting on a black piano bench. I was a child. I was a teen. I grew up. And when contemplating where to get married, I knew. My church. Yes, it was the place my dad was pastoring, but that's not the actual reason I chose it. The same walls that I ran to for solace and consolation, I wanted for my wedding day.
Thirty minutes of piano playing went by like nothing tonight. In fact, I was surprised to hear my timer going off because I had only played two songs. But that's what a church piano affords me that nothing else does...a place to be off the clock and alone, and maybe to find what has changed since the last time I opened up to a church piano.
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