Looking at Myself

I don't like pictures of myself.  I think I look not like me.  It's easy to see a photo and immediately be drawn to all of my physical imperfections, the signs that I am aging, the mustache.  I wanted to take on the I Heart Faces challenge this week because it was just that:  a challenge.  The challenge?  A self-portrait.  I don't often find myself on the other side of the lens, which is the way I like it (unless, of course, I am making some outrageous face...then I wreck the picture on purpose, and it's supposed to be awful). 

I'm sure there will be some fantastic entries.  There are some very talented and creative people out there.  I thought that I would go the route of super simple.

This is me.

I am Christina.  I am 36 years old.  I have been married for 13 years and I have three children.  Most of the time I love my husband and my kids; sometimes I want to leave them.  I have lost three pregnancies.  I struggle with depression and OCD, yet I love to laugh and to make people laugh.  I believe that without the love of God and the forgiveness I have through Jesus Christ's life, death, and resurrection, that I would be lost.  I fall down a lot (figuratively speaking...if we were speaking literally, I would have to say I run into things a lot).  I have gray hairs.  I have bags under my eyes, and crow's feet at the corners of my eyes (to the max!) when I smile.  My eyebrows are uneven.  My nose is a bit on the large side.  I have a lot of spots on my face that I didn't have 15 years ago.  I have a zit on my chin, which I find annoying.  I have a mole on my cheek, which I kind of like.  I slept in the shirt I am wearing, and kept it on today because it's very comfortable. 

This is me.  Unlike the photo, I am a complicated mess.  I hope that I am in the process of becoming more comfortable in my own skin.  At least as comfortable as I am in my gray shirt.

Check out how other people see themselves.  It's going to be cool.

Some Things Don't Change

There is a tree near our neighborhood.  It is an old tree, one that is the keeper of a time-honored tradition.  Each year many families gather around this tree in order to witness a great illumination, sing Christmas carols, and celebrate the Christmas season together.

For most of the year, the tree stands proudly, yet unadorned, in the center of a highly traveled road, having seen many changes over the years that it has grown its deep roots.  One thing that hasn't changed for more than eighty years (except for during WW II and during an energy crisis one year) is the lighting of this tree at Christmastime. 

It was special to be part of this event tonight.  The 75th lighting of a 75-foot tree, which is approximately 75 feet wide.  Fun fact, no?

The kids were enamored of a decorative carousel in the front yard of one of the homes across from the tree.

The darkness made it hard to get shots that are very clear, but it is a pretty cool Christmas decoration.  There is a sleigh on one side with steps that lead down to the ground.  They had fun going around and around (on their feet, it doesn't really go around). 

The people in this neighborhood go all out with the lights and such.  It's very fun to ride up and down the street looking at all of them (Eliana loves the lights and will cry out,"Look!  It's so beautiful!), and I hope to get some nice pictures of some of them this year.  They are really lovely...it's like nothing I've ever seen.

There are homes more elaborate than this one, it just happened to be near where I parked. 

I know Christmas isn't about the lights and the life-size Nutcrackers, the wreaths and red bows...but the beauty of all of that leads me to think of what Christmas is all about.  (Well, maybe not the life-size Nutcrackers, but everything else.)  Jesus, the light of the world, came to dwell among us; he came to give us life that will never end, but also an abundant life that begins now; he lived a perfect life and then shed his blood on the cross so that we might be able to be called sons of God.  These truths come so easily to my mind when I'm writing.  I wish I could say that they were so readily available all the time.  Maybe little by little, year after year, they will continue to become so etched in my mind and on my heart, that they will rule over me, instead of all the other things that I allow to cover over them and become more important. 

At any rate, I am glad that we went tonight.  It was a pleasure to see the kids' delight when the lights went on.  (Although, here's a funny story.  I didn't want to be late, or have to walk for blocks after parking far away, so we left really early and ate dinner in the car.  I pulled up to the curb not too far from the tree and it was pretty empty around the area.  I thought,"Maybe I'm too early."  I pulled away from the curb in order to drive around the block one more time.  (For good measure?  What a goof.)  As I eased back onto the street the lights on the tree - all 5000 of them - flashed on for two seconds, and then off again.  The kids got a sneak preview.  Ha!  So, sometimes you can be too early.)  This was the first time we attended the lighting, but I imagine it won't be our last.  I hope that each time I see these lights, whether driving by or watching them come on for the first (or second!) time, I will think of the Light of the world, who came into the darkness, and was not overcome by it (John 1:5).  For, as much as this tradition hasn't changed for so long, the Creator of the tree itself and all those who come to see it hasn't changed...he is the same yesterday and today and forever (Hebrews 13:8).  His love is everlasting and his promises will never fail.  These are the things that don't change.  Amen.

Christmas Is Coming...

I don't know whether to write here or in the Walking Towards Joy section tonight...maybe this will end up in both.

Every year, I think about the Advent season, around the end of November, with great anticipation...which is as it should be.  I have several ideas about what I'm going to do with the kids, and sometimes I get carried away and think I'll do some kind of craft or baking project every day.  And then somehow we get about six days into December without having done anything and I throw my hands in the air, and give up.  We end up reading through The Advent Book even though we start a few days late, and that ends up being it.  Obviously that is not nothing, but it's never what I imagined it would be. 

This year I'm hoping things will be different, and mainly for the purpose of keeping our focus on Jesus.  But also for the making of memories and having traditions with our family.  So, after reading on Beki's blog about some Advent ideas (she referenced the McClenahan's blog as well) I got inspired and took the girls out today while Christian was in school in order to round up materials for what I hope will be a fun and meaningful project through the month. 

The idea is like any Advent calendar, in that each day leading up to Christmas Day is represented and has a goodie hidden inside...only instead of a calendar with doors that open we are using socks.  In each sock I will put something that either contributes to telling the Christmas story or helps us to remember who Jesus is and what he came to do for us. 

We also received a great Advent packet from our church and we started that as well.  It was so nice to work on these things all together, watching the kids do their activities with such purpose, seeing them already anticipating what is coming...I loved it. 

Advent.  Expectation.  Waiting.

This is a wonderful season.

But I Can Dance a Jig

I picked an excellent time to give up soda. 

Oh, dear.  See, I depend on the caffeinated, bubbly, sugary devil-in-a-can to get me through any given situation.  But it has also gotten me into pants that are two sizes bigger than what I'd like to be wearing.  I am probably also well on my way to making myself a diabetic.  Add in the wonderful example I'm setting for my kids, and there are the fantastic triple-crown reasons (I was going to use "trifecta" but it didn't seem right, and yet, I can't get away from the horse-racing lingo) why I ought to let go of my very naughty habit.

And now here we are, heading towards a move.  A move!  I need a Dr. Pepper. 

No!  I don't need a Dr. Pepper!  I must tell myself this over and over and over.  I need boxes, that's what I need.  And a professional organizer.  Also, a dumpster.  And some caffeine!

No.  No to the caffeine.  Get a grip!

Do you ever talk to yourself?  Are you wondering right now if I'm speaking to you, reader of this blog, or to myself, since I actually do talk to myself, even in public forums? 

Since I never promised coherent or well-thought out posts (did I?  I don't think I did.) then I'm just going to babble.  I need to fold laundry.  Is anyone surprised about that?  I should think not.  I also need to do the dishes.  My dear, sweet daughter Michaela emptied the dishwasher this morning, and I think I owe it to her to load it up tonight.  Not just so she'll have something to do when she wakes up, but also to honor her for all of her hard work. 

I cleaned out my car tonight because I volunteered to take the boys to karate.  Right after I said I would do the driving, I realized you couldn't walk through to the back of the van.  AT ALL.  It was a sight to behold.  We had done some running around the days before our trip to Virginia, and eaten in the car a bit.  Apparently we also did some disrobing in there, since I not only filled up one garbage bag with actual trash (gross!), but another with clothes of various kinds...including socks, a hoodie, coats, and some khaki pants. 

Those boys were so loud that when we got to the dojo, I couldn't even get their attention to say,"Get out."  I hollered back to where they were wrestling,"I AM NOT DRIVING YOU GUYS AGAIN!"  I may have added,"If you scream like that," but I can't remember.  I was busy trying to keep my head from spontaneously combusting.  I was already exasperated because we couldn't find Christian's jacket for his gi (the uniform) or his belt.  What I really don't understand is my memory of washing and folding the thing, along with his pants, which I did find in a laundry basket at the foot of my bed.  Augggh!! 

My best guess is that part of his uniform ended up in a crazy place because the last time he had karate was the night that I went to a special dinner for a friend, and Mike had a Bible study.  Mike picked Christian up and went to drop the kids off with a friend for the evening, and the truck died.  I went to pick them up, Mike dropped me off at my dinner, and then took the kids with him to his Bible study (at someone's house).  I'm hoping that the missing pieces are at this lady's home.  Maybe along with my sanity? 

I doubt it.  My sanity is long gone.  But what I lack in mental stability I make up for with some really sweet dance moves.  Those Riverdancers got nothin' on me.  Just ask my mom.

The Unthinkable

I am adamantly, resolutely, unwaveringly opposed to baths.  I think they are gross.  Putting my dirty body into a small pool of warm water, sitting there for a while, even soaping up (and how do you rinse?)...this makes no sense to me whatsoever.  I suppose people take baths for the relaxation of it, but it just adds stress to my life.  Maybe you shower after you bathe?  That's too much work.  I feel exhausted after a shower sometimes, especially if I shave. 

Baths.  I don't like them.

But what happens when you have someone like me but also children like mine, who do like baths?  There is much discord.  Much weeping and gnashing of teeth.  Much screaming and stomping and flailing.  My older kids can take showers, so it's not such a big deal for them (although they do still like to take baths when it is possible, which isn't often).  Eliana is a different story.  Eliana doesn't like showers and she doesn't like standing in the tub while I wash her and then rinse her off.  I try to be quick and I know she's a little cold, but her bottom isn't going to sit in our tub.  I just never feel like it's clean enough.  (The tub, not her bottom, although...)

Something strange happened on our trip, though.  I can't explain it.  I can only show you.

She was totally happy.  No screaming.  No crying.  No flailing.

She loves the bubbles.

I just washed her really well as they drained out.  I'm hoping that the tub in our new house is bathworthy.  Because the screaming?  It's not nearly as much fun as floufing bubbles.