May 25, 2016 by Jolene

Guys and dolls

Buckle up, dear readers. We’re going to talk about gender. Wait, don’t close the browser window yet! Hang with me, and I think we can get through this without losing our minds.

I had a conversation yesterday with a friend whose little girl is a bit of a tomboy. She has more than once expressed a wish to be a boy, which in some families might induce panic and in others send a parent out to buy a new wardrobe. My friend is a wise and experienced mother, however, and has calmly given her daughter room to explore the things she enjoys, free of any gender-related pressure. You don’t have to like frills, she assures her daughter.

Our society has made a mess of gender. Some strange collusion of marketing, parenting and sex and gender politics has narrowed the gender world for our children to what can only be described as a pigeonhole. In that context, significant numbers of boys and girls inevitably are going to be left wondering where they fit in. All it takes is a trip down a few toy aisles to see what I mean. What message is a little girl getting if she really wants the latest monster trucks or construction toys? How long does it take for a boy to understand he’s not supposed to like dolls or sometimes putting on the princess dress? My son’s favorite colors have changed every few weeks for years, but at four, he came home from preschool with the understanding that pink was a girl color. I assured him that he can like any color he wants, but imagine how those messages accumulate from the time our kids are too young to know what it means.

Please don’t misunderstand: I am not trying to explain gender dysphoria, transgenderism, sexual identity or any related complexities. I am not even remotely qualified to address those issues with any authority. What I can address is the world in which I am raising my children, and the issues I face as a parent. This includes pervasive societal pressure to accept a ridiculously narrow definition of gender and worry or label if our kids stray outside those boundaries.

People, can’t we all agree to ditch these artificial definitions? Some girls love frills and pink and naturally gravitate to dolls and dress-up and tea parties. There is nothing wrong with that. But let’s not discourage them from also loving cars and trucks, dirt, sports or roughhousing, or make those who do feel as if they don’t belong. Some boys naturally thrive on wildly physical shenanigans, loud and aggressive games and the world of bash-’em-up Matchbox cars and superhero escapades. But what of the ones who love putting on mom’s high heels, enjoy a good tea party, tenderly rock babies and stuffed animals to sleep or pretend to whip up a good omelette? Are they any less boys? There is an endless combination of all these things and many more, so beautifully varied and individual, a kaleidoscope of personality and experience in every child. Yes, there are basic differences between the genders, and I don’t mean to imply otherwise. However, we live in a time of false dichotomy, where everything is arranged in opposition to something else. Life doesn’t often work that way. Kids naturally try things on, testing what fits, imitating the many adults in their lives. The best way to make an issue where there isn’t one is to overreact to that natural process and impose our own fears or assumptions on children who are – and should be – endlessly testing and becoming.

Earlier this week, my son wore a pair of princess dress-up heels and superhero underwear in an imaginary game I did not attempt to understand. He likes pretty things and has a baby doll he occasionally plays with. He wishes to have his nails painted when I paint mine. He sometimes plays family with his friends on the playground, and other times he plays soccer. He spends hours with his cars, planes and trains in games that regularly turn raucous, and his imaginary worlds often involve good guys and bad guys and what he gleefully labels “violence.” Lina has a dollhouse and lots of babies she adores, but she also loves block towers and the occasional toy car demolition derby. She is often rambunctious in her play. She likes books about farm equipment and trucks that get stuck. These are their idiosyncrasies, the wild cocktails that comprise my children. The world has plenty to say about expectations and normalcy (whatever that is). But for now, I still have some ability to hold those messages at bay and let my children discover for themselves what brings them joy and who God designed them to be.

May 10, 2016 by Jolene

Mother’s Day

This is perhaps the lushest spring I have experienced in Tennessee. I suppose it’s extra rainfall that has brought us this verdant wonderland. It’s been a steady succession of blossoming, from the daffodils in March to pears, dogwoods and cherries, irises and peonies and now the sweet smell of honeysuckle and blossoms I haven’t been able to identify.

Somehow, the spring profusion seems like a fitting lead-up to Mother’s Day, with its celebration of the women who give life, the nurturing they provide and the growth they support. I love Mother’s Day, in all its cheesy Hallmark glory. You’d think the experience of infertility would have soured the holiday. Instead, I fully appreciate the privilege of being honored with funny and thoughtful cards, preschool crafts, little gifts payed for with saved allowance, and delicious meals lovingly prepared by a kind and capable husband.

This year, I thought a lot about children whose mothers are missing. A recent experience with a little boy my son’s age has reminded me that not every kid gets wrapped in the arms of a mom who cares and is there in the ways she should be. I’ve thought, too of friends and family members whose moms are gone, leaving what must be an unfillable hole.

I am so grateful for the time I get to spend with my mom, and for the hugs I get from my precious kids. Corin loves holidays, and his excited Mother’s Day wishes continued all day. I did laundry and housework and got annoyed by the dog, but the time with family was the highlight, as it always is.

No water guns in the house!

The boys’ table, a.k.a. Trouble Corner

My sweet mama

I still have scars from where he stabbed me with a pencil – twice – but I do love that brother of mine.

What better metaphor for motherhood than choosing the photo where everyone else looks normal?

Who armed the hooligans?

May 4, 2016 by Jolene

In lieu of keeping up with baby books…

I’m really not so good at blogging. I’m pretty sure one of the top pieces of advice for would-be bloggers is, “Post often.” Oops.

I thought it might be time for an update on both kids. What I mean by that is, I’ve had an attack of guilt over my failure to record my kids’ milestones and development. Lina’s baby book is pretty much blank, and I am terrible at remembering when things happened for either kid. So, here’s my attempt at a snapshot of the Sharp kids at 6 and 3 1/2. As this is mostly for my own neglected record, feel free to skim or ignore completely.

Corin:

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His first time ice skating, a trip we promised as a birthday gift

Reads pretty proficiently but still prefers to be read to. We recently finished The Trumpet of the Swan by E.B. White, which he loved.
Just lost his fourth tooth last night. It was, by his account, kicked out by his sister. He appeared in the kitchen holding his tooth, with a muddled tale of Lina kicking at something but instead hitting his arm as he wiggled his tooth. On a related note…
Knows I am the Tooth Fairy. I do not confirm or deny, but he is unshaken in his conviction.
Has an incredibly vivid imagination. He is almost always deep in some fantasy. We are all assigned roles in his games on a daily basis. Yesterday, we were giant robots. We’re regularly super heroes, any variety of animals, pirates, Star Wars characters, and the list goes on. He spins wild tales of grand fights and adventures, and there are always good guys and bad guys. Sometimes the good guys win, sometimes not.
Loves macaroni and cheese best of all foods in the world.
Also loves scrambled eggs, spaghetti with olive oil and parmesan, pizza (no mushrooms!), crunchy bean tacos, yogurt, veggie “sausage” links, applesauce, bananas, pears, Wheaties with milk, hummus and cheese sandwiches with pickle and lettuce, and for treats: brownies, cookies, M&Ms and ice cream.
Eats most vegetables and fruits pretty well.
Is very affectionate and gives lots of hugs and kisses and “I love you”s.
Wears size 6 clothing, though the pants are sometimes too long.
Wears size 11-12 shoes.
Loves “specials” – library, P.E., art and music – at school, but also really seems to enjoy the classroom time. The days are long and he is very tired by the time he gets off the bus, but he loves his teacher and friends and has had a positive kindergarten experience.
Cannot carry a tune to save his life. This one has taken our musical family by surprise.
Is easily frustrated when things don’t go according to his (often very specific) plans. He likes to be in charge and often loses his temper when he doesn’t get what he wants when he wants it. We have spent a lot of time working on this, and I have a feeling we’ll be working on it for quite some time to come. My firstborn is strong willed and likes to have control. (I have no idea where he gets that.)
Has a pretty strong grasp of basic math, such as simple addition and subtraction and the very beginnings of multiplication and division.
Is very cautious by nature. This kid is not a risk-taker or diver-in. He is learning to overcome nervousness and fear to try new things, and he generally finds his footing with a little time.
Learned to ride a two-wheeled pedal bike over the winter/spring. He’s still a little hesitant with it, but he’s getting there!
Loves his sister and sometimes plays well with her but often gets terribly frustrated by her propensity for messing up his carefully ordered world.
Plays heavily with his matchbox cars and toy planes and also enjoys his train set, musical instruments (small guitar and keyboard), Legos, puzzles and dress-up costumes. He also loves to play board games.
Still sleeps with the lion “lovey” he’s had since birth. We recently gave away “new lovey,” an identical lion bought ages ago in an unsuccessful attempt to introduce an alternate. Alas, the original was already irreplaceable.
Loves the Cars and Planes movies.
Does his own laundry with some help.
Goes to bed at 7:30 p.m., gets up around 7 a.m.

Eline:

Spring school picture. It’s her, messy hair and all.

Has experienced a huge leap in her speech development over the past couple months. She has a vocabulary of hundreds of spoken words that grows daily, which means she relies less on signs (though she does still use them). She has just begun putting two or three words together. Her preschool teacher recently returned from maternity leave, and after her first day back, Lina was able to spontaneously tell me that she saw a picture of Ms. Meri’s baby on her phone. (I checked with the teacher to verify!) You can imagine my elation. Clarity is still a challenge, but we’ve seen progress there, too. She does not currently say “k” or hard “g” sounds.
Can climb and descend the stairs independently on her feet, holding the railing. Can jump with both feet off the ground and kick, throw and sometimes catch a playground ball.
Loves her friends at school and adores her teachers, especially her speech therapist, Ms. Jody. She is very affectionate and gives fantastic hugs.
Has a very hard time with sharing and can get aggressive when someone is in her way or not doing what she wants them to. We are working on this one. She will still occasionally pull hair, but that issue is much improved.
Has a well-developed sense of humor. She loves silliness and laughter. Grandma was dressing her the other day and teasingly asked, “Are these the dog’s pants?” Lina thought it was hysterical.
Can be downright sassy. If she doesn’t want to do something, she responds with “No!” accompanied by a foot stomp.
Likes for things to be her idea. If she feels pressured to do something, she will balk. This girl is independent and very strong willed. She likes to test boundaries.
Believes the world begins and ends with books. She carries books with her everywhere and asks to be read to many, many times a day. She understands that letters make words and will point to each word to ask you to read it. She loves Bible stories. Her favorite is David and Goliath, which requires an accompanying song with all the motions.
Hates having her hair combed.
Knows all her capital letters by name and can name a few numbers, as well.
Adores music. Singing is the one thing that will unfailingly calm her in any situation, which has been true since she was tiny. She amused (at least I’m choosing to interpret it that way) everyone in the pews around us at church last week when she responded to a children’s choir song by shouting “Yay!” and clapping enthusiastically.
Wears 3T clothes and size 6-7 shoes.
Still takes a 1 1/2- to 2-hour nap every afternoon.
Goes to bed between 7 and 7:30 and gets up way too early. She is usually awake before 6 a.m. but thankfully plays happily (if rather noisily) in her room until someone comes to get her.
Loves bread (toast, waffles, rolls, cornbread), butter/peanut butter/almond butter and honey or jelly, veggie meats (both kids are very vegetarian!), spaghetti or noodles, string cheese, pizza, yogurt, goldfish crackers, applesauce, veggie straws, tortilla chips, avocado and most sweets. She sometimes tolerates broccoli, peas, banana, apple and pear. She usually won’t touch foods she doesn’t like or recognize, but her palette does seem to be broadening gradually.
Prefers mommy for some things but definitely prefers daddy for bath and bedtime.
Sucks the first two fingers of her left hand when she is sleepy or needs comfort, as she has since she was a few months old. She has a much-loved stuffed bunny (and an almost identical alternate – we learned our lesson!) whose neck ribbon she rubs. She also likes to sleep with a big stuffed bunny she got for Easter and sometimes her favorite baby doll.
Can draw lines up and down, across or in circles as requested and can operate scissors with some support.
Loves her Little People toys, nesting cardboard blocks, her babies, her little toy piano, dress-up clothes, shoes and hats (hers or “borrowed”), her little play kitchen and shopping cart/food, and did I mention BOOKS?!!
Receives one hour of speech, one hour of OT and 20 minutes of PT every week during school, in addition to support toward her goals from all her teachers and aides. We are so pleased with her preschool program and the progress she has made over the school year.

These kids light up my life. I always wanted to be a mom. I fought hard to become one. But not even all the years of longing prepared me for the hugeness of motherhood. The joy, the frustration, the exhaustion, the pride, the love…THE LOVE. It’s all so much bigger than I could have fathomed. Even when they drive me crazy, I thank God these kids are mine.

March 20, 2016 by Jolene

Start your (Mario Kart) engines!

Corin is old enough now to choose his own birthday party themes. I admit to a bit of trepidation on this front, but this year’s choice was manageable and fun, the win-win of kids’ parties. We still stick with mostly family parties, so both sets of grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins came to help us celebrate six years of Corin. The weather was COLD for the first official day of spring, but we made the most of our brief time outside and spent the rest of the time playing Mario Kart on the Wii, eating banana cake and ice cream and opening gifts. It was really fun. Seriously, I think my kids’ birthday parties are some of the best times of the year. I love watching them have a blast, and it’s such a great time with family.

But enough chit-chat, and on with the massive photo dump.

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Our newest addition, dad’s guide dog Honor, just home from training school.

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I think they love each other.

March 18, 2016 by Jolene

Longing, remembered and fulfilled

Last night, I tucked a five-year-old boy into bed for the last time. This morning, I woke a six-year-old up with the birthday song and made him scrambled eggs for breakfast. After he left with daddy to meet the bus, I sat down at this computer and pulled up the journal I kept for more than three years leading up to Corin’s birth. The first entry was dated December 28, 2006. I addressed the journal to our as-yet non-existent child.

It’s been a long time since I’ve looked at that journal and remembered what those years of infertility were like. I cried as I read back over the entries and remembered months upon months of delayed hopes and crushing disappointments, the endless prayers of longing and fear and hope and trust.

On July 28, 2009, I wrote:

I find myself feeling almost superstitious as I type this entry, as if by writing out the same hopes and dreams I’ve expressed so many times before, I might chase away the possibility of a different outcome. I’ll admit, I am scared. I have moments where I can hardly breathe for fear of the crushing disappointment that may wait just around the corner. But as I said, I have hope, too. And in those moments when emotions swell, I reach for my only true recourse: prayer. I know God continues to be with us, and I am determined to trust Him with my life – and yours, little one. I plead with Him to let me now be carrying our firstborn child, but I pray that above all, His will is done. What is faith if I only trust Him in smooth waters, when I can see what lies ahead? Faith becomes real in these uncertain moments.

The next morning, I went in to our local clinic for a blood beta pregnancy test. After so many times staring at a tiny window and wishing for a line that never appeared, I was too afraid to test at home before the official blood results. On July 31st, the nurse at the clinic in Maryland (where we had gone for the actual IVF cycle) called with the news that the test was positive. Jon and I jumped with joy and trembled and cried, and then we stopped to say a prayer of gratitude and to ask for God’s protection for the tiny life that was just beginning to form.

Today, I still pray over that life, no longer so tiny. I remember the little butt that was wedged for weeks under my ribs and the tiny hands and feet that rocked my belly, and I marvel to see those parts walking around, pieces of this marvelous, challenging, growing boy. That tiny life we longed and prayed for is my six-year-old son, who throws his arms around me and says he loves me several times a day. I look at him today, and I remember the longing of those years. I remember the baptism by fire of his newborn days, and I remember so many moments of joy and frustration and exhaustion and laughter since. There is no honor in my life – no accomplishment or goal met – that will ever equal the fulfillment of being this boy’s mother. He is my firstborn, the child of those many years of longing, God’s answer to innumerable prayers.

Happy birthday, Corin.

Newborn Corin

March 1, 2016 by Jolene

High five

Lina had her final visit yesterday with her KidTalk interventionist. (I actually don’t know if that’s the official term.) KidTalk is a research program through Vanderbilt University’s Kennedy Center. It focuses on communication development for kids with Down syndrome or autism.

Based on positive reviews from other families, we enrolled Lina in KidTalk last year. She went through the initial evaluation to qualify her for the study and was assigned to the intervention group (as opposed to the control group, which gets the intervention after the research period is over). For the intervention, we committed to four appointments a week: two in our home and two somewhere in the community, which for us was GiGi’s Playhouse and an office at Vanderbilt. During those appointments, the interventionist worked with Lina on speech development using a very specific play-based methodology honed over many years of research. For this specific study, the team was testing the use of an iPad app as an additional communication tool. The in-home visits also focused on training me in the intervention methodology. In addition to those appointments, we also committed to periodic evaluations at the Vanderbilt offices to track her progress.

Lina began the interventions last June. It was a huge commitment. Honestly, the study, combined with Lina’s weekly standard therapy appointments (speech, OT and PT), pretty much ate up our entire summer. Rather than going to swimming lessons and the zoo, Corin, Lina and I spent our time ferrying back and forth to appointments. I’m not going to lie: it was hard. I was tired a lot. I worried about what it meant for Corin. But I could see Lina responding to the interventions. Her progress became apparent, and that kept me going.

From almost the day Lina was born, Jon and I felt that communication was going to be one of the most important aspects of her development. It was apparent very early that Lina was bright and inquisitive, curious about her world and eager to learn and explore. We also knew that difficulty communicating could keep the rest of the world from seeing what we saw. We were determined to access any help we could find to push her speech development. We thanked God that an infant hearing loss diagnosis (which proved to be temporary) allowed her to qualify for earlier speech therapy than the Down syndrome diagnosis alone would have. She saw a wonderful Vanderbilt therapist weekly from the time she was about seven months old.

And now here we were, slogging through a very difficult summer in the belief that it would all pay off, that all these interventions and research-based methods would give Lina the support she needed to push her speech development forward. Her final intervention appointment was in August. We have since been back to the Kennedy Center several times for periodic follow-up evaluations. The last of those was February 15th. We also received periodic maintenance home visits from our much-loved interventionist, Tatiana.

Lina’s speech progress has seemed pretty obvious to me. We estimate she now spontaneously uses well over 200 words and signs, and even just in the last few weeks, her vocabulary has been exploding. She delighted her school speech therapist just today by suddenly greeting her by name, as if she’d been hanging on to that trick for just the right moment. On the way home, I was serenaded with “Jodie, Jodie” and a wide grin. She busted out the word “railing” on the way up the stairs yesterday. Every day there are new words; I can’t keep track of them all. Her receptive language has always been well ahead of her expressive – typical for kids with Down syndrome, and one reason sign language works so well – but we’ve seen tremendous strides there, too. I can reason verbally with her in ways that seem pretty typical for any three-year-old. She can follow two-plus step directions (although her wildly independent nature sometimes interferes!). She can easily understand advanced “first, then” concepts: “I know you want to play blocks, but first you need to finish eating your apples.” “We can go play outside, but you need to clean up your toys first.” I’ve found I no longer need to focus on simplifying language and concepts for her to understand: She gets pretty much anything I tell her.

But having said all that, I still sometimes second-guess myself. What if I’m overestimating her progress? I know she’s still delayed compared to her typical peers. Are we really pushing her enough? Why is that one word sounding so muddled? The guilt sets in: I haven’t done any KidTalk play with her for days. I need to be working more on that.

You can imagine, then, how I felt when yesterday, on that final visit, Tatiana told me that she had compared Lina’s last standardized evaluation with her initial one. She said, “Lina gained five points on her score.” I had no idea what that meant; five points didn’t sound like much. But she went on to explain that they almost never see that big a change. They expect to see an overall increase in points, because children will naturally be learning and growing over the course of the evaluation period. But in order for Lina to see that kind of scoring gain, she had to show significant improvement compared to typical progress they would expect in that time.

I don’t think the news really sank in for me until I started telling Jon about it yesterday evening. I know all the flaws and problems with standardized evaluations. I know they are snapshots of a moment and place in time and not a full picture of any child. But right now, that measurable sign of progress means the world. It really is clicking; my kid is learning to talk. All the hours we and her therapists have poured into her for the past 3 1/2 years are paying off. Someday soon, the world will be able to hear all she has to say.

I wish I could bottle this feeling to share with parents who have just received a Down syndrome diagnosis. Yes, a lot of things are going to be harder. There will be times you’ve gone over the same activities 1,000 times to little response. You will all get tired. But then, victory comes. Right there in front of you is undeniable proof of the payoff, and it is so, so sweet.

Sure, I’ve always known that work brings rewards, but it turns out it’s taking Lina to really teach me the fierce joy of hard-won milestones.

January 27, 2016 by Jolene

The third baby

There is something I’ve been thinking about on and off for a long time now. Jon and I have talked about it a lot, and honestly, I’m not sure how to feel like I have closure on the issue.

It’s this idea of a third kid. See, when we got married, we discussed how many kids we wanted. We landed pretty readily on three. (Jon threw around the idea of four, but I nixed that rather decisively.) I couldn’t tell you exactly why three was the number. I suppose I liked the idea of a large family without getting into territory that felt unmanageable.

But then, years of infertility did a number on our family planning. I was 31 when Corin was born and 33 when Lina was born. I will turn 37 in a few weeks. Fertility treatments that were so physically, emotionally and financially difficult then would be exponentially harder now, with my increased age and all the responsibilities that come with the kids we already have. We’ve briefly discussed returning to the idea of adoption, but that process is also terribly difficult and expensive.

Most of the time, I am content with the idea that our family is complete. We have a boy and a girl, two beautiful kids who are perfect for us. Please don’t misunderstand: I am so, so grateful. And honestly, I’m not sure I have all that newborn stuff in me any more. I remember the borderline-hallucinogenic sleeplessness, the endless feedings and pumpings, the spit-up soaked burp rags, the mushy, barely-recognizable postpartum body. That very pragmatic voice also tells me it’s probably best that Corin and Lina have as much of my attention as I can give them. These kids need more from me than I could probably manage with another little one in the house. Also, I really don’t need more gray hairs.

But then, this photo popped up on that cursed Facebook timeline. It was posted four years ago today.

BFP 1.27.12

Suddenly, all that excellent logic evaporates in a wave of longing for just one more time. Just once more, I wish I could feel the unparalleled thrill of those pink lines. Just one more time, I wish I could feel the first movements of a baby I already loved in that uniquely intense and abstract way. Just once more, I wish I could experience childbirth. (Yes, I know how crazy that sounds.) Just one more time, I wish I could rest a tiny, fragile body on my naked chest and feel the total trust and contentment of a newborn who knows his mother. Just once more, I wish I could watch a baby grow, almost hour by hour, and see the infinite changes that every day make her more herself.

I know there are moms who are SO DONE with babies and can’t wait to send their kids out the door to school. I get it; I am that mom sometimes, too. But a lot of the time, I am also mourning the end of babies and toddlers. My kids are growing up, and even as I beam and cheer, I mourn the steps they take away from me.

Is there a way to find real peace with this? I actually told Jon the other night that it might be time to think about the snip. Not that we really need it, but I have a dark fear of a shock pregnancy at 45. And it just seems like maybe that step might give us final closure. I’ve already given away most of the kids’ baby clothes and toys. It’s actually pretty nice to clear out the storage and use it for things more relevant to our lives now. I spend a lot more time these days thinking about my future outside of parenting. But I can never seem to permanently dispel that niggling sense of longing.

I am tempted to sometimes feel as if we were robbed of an opportunity to have a third child, as if the ideal family we planned has somehow been diminished to something less. I suppose it’s normal to feel a loss. But when I really look at the family right here in front of me, I know it’s not less than we hoped. It is so much more.

I don’t know if I’ll ever reach a point when I don’t wish sometimes for that one last baby. I hope so. Maybe a lot of women struggle with closing the door on more kids, even when it’s a step of their own choosing. I’m not going to give in to regret over what should have been. I choose to focus on how full my life is and how grateful I am for what I’ve been given. But if you catch a strange look on my face when I hold your newborn, you’ll know why.

January 26, 2016 by Jolene

Naptime shenanigans, or things that make me smile

The kids finally headed back to school today after blizzard 2016, which means the return to a more normal routine. I picked Lina up from preschool at 11:30, we drove home, ate lunch, and then I put her down for a nap. I headed into my room to catch up on emails.

I think she had missed her toys, because instead of going straight to sleep, I heard her talking quietly and rustling around. After quite a while of this, I thought I’d better go settle her back into bed. As I walked across the hall, I heard a pause, then rapid footsteps, then the squeak of her bed springs. As I opened the door, I caught her trying to shove a book under her pillow. She gave me a wide-eyed look.

Why am I telling this story? It’s no big deal, I know: just normal three-year-old stuff. But that’s the thing. It’s normal three-year-old stuff. To me, that experience represents exactly what a kid her age should be doing, and I can’t tell you how it made me (secretly) smile. When Lina was first born, I didn’t fully appreciate how much the “normal kid stuff” would mean, and the joy I would get from watching my girl lead her boisterous, everyday life.

I suppose that’s one of those things they don’t tell you when they deliver a diagnosis.

December 19, 2015 by Jolene

Six days to Christmas and all is well

My son’s Christmas countdown tells me it is currently six days until Christmas. My radio, tuned to the local non-stop Christmas music station, agrees, as does my kitchen, currently overflowing with the remains of last week’s massive round of Christmas baking. We visited the Dickens Christmas festival in downtown Franklin last Sunday and have watched several of our favorite holiday movies. We’ve read as many versions of the nativity story as we can get our hands on. I am enjoying all these things while simultaneously remaining completely astonished that this year is drawing to a close.

So, here I am, finally posting a few pictures from our lovely Thanksgiving at the in-laws’ in Georgia.

The spread

These potatoes, y’all…

The table

The crew

The family

The handsomest grandpa around

There are times when it nearly takes my breath away, how fast life is passing and how quickly my children change. This year, Corin remembers nearly every detail of last Christmas and can look forward to holiday events with much more specific anticipation. He put a lot of the ornaments on the tree this year. He also understands more and more of the Christmas story. Lina still mostly ignores a lot of the preliminaries and really still prefers that we open gifts for her so she can get to the fun part of playing with whatever’s inside. She adores the holiday sweets, and her fairly new appreciation for babies makes the story of baby Jesus one she can relate to better than most. Today, she spontaneously said “Bible” for the first time, and then repeated it throughout the morning. Our Little People nativity set – given us by Aunt Lila several years ago – is always a big hit, and we will spend more time this next week acting out the story of Jesus’ birth in a way that hopefully brings it home a bit for the munchkins.

As an adult, you would think the endless repetition of the nativity story would get old. I find the opposite is true. Every year, the story has new meaning for me. This year, I’ve been struck by the universality of the gift of God’s Son: “Good news of great joy that will be for all the people.” We humans tend to put everyone on a worthiness scale. It has come home hard this year that God sent a Savior for everyone. I find myself asking, “What am I doing to bring God to people where they are?” It’s a hard question, and I wrestle with what that really looks like in my life. For now, I am thankful for the seasonal reminder of a boundless love that belongs to all of us.