“The light shines in the darkness and the darkness has not overcome it.”- John 1:5

We lost my step-dad, Al, a few days before Thanksgiving 2001, he was 62 years young. He battled cancer for six years, and after a record-breaking eighteen months of hospice care, he passed away. He was a strong, funny, hard-working, stubborn Texan with broad shoulders and hands the size of baseball mitts. He loved country music, cowboy hats, jalapeno peppers straight from the garden, playing practical jokes, and Jesus. He came into my life at age twelve. I wasn’t too impressed when he thought I was a boy (perhaps it was my pixie haircut and my skinny undeveloped body.) We had a rocky relationship, at best, but, years later, we came to know Jesus together, and our relationship was miraculously restored. We had wonderful conversations about God. He loved me like a daughter, and I adored him.

When he passed the week of Thanksgiving, I felt nothing but relief. We prayed for months for his transition to heaven. Hospice volunteers and nurses attended our family vigilantly while Al wasted away in the rented hospital bed, set up in our living room. My mom cared for his every need. It’s how they wanted it. Nothing was left unsaid in our relationship. The day of his funeral we had 26 inches of snow in west central Minnesota. We stood in the cemetery under the flimsy awning laughing at how absurd all the snow was, and how Al would be laughing with us, if he were there.

“Behold, the Virgin shall be with child and shall bear a son, and they shall call his name Immanuel, which translated means, ‘God with us.’”-Matthew 1:23

I was five years old when I was asked to play the role of Mary in our small, rural church’s Sunday school Christmas program. The stinky church basement room with the upright piano and the cold, waxed linoleum floor was where I rehearsed the little song I would sing. We spent all day Saturday going over our memorized lines and practicing the many songs. There was an excitement in the air as moms scurried about to keep kids in line and performing perfectly. My Mary costume was a white tunic with a piece a twine tied at my waist, and a blue veil for my head; the veil was my favorite. As I stood in front of the full church, singing a sweet song, it’s as if God was smiling down on me. I felt great peace and thought God must love me to allow me to play Mary. It was the first time I sensed God nearness—Immanuel, God with us.

“Rest in the Lord and wait patiently for Him.” Psalm 37:7a

There’s nothing like the beauty of a frosty winter morning. Everything is frozen and still, resting, waiting—waiting for the warmth, waiting for the sun. The frozen vegetation is beautiful and captivating; it’s not striving. It’s simply still.

I’ve never been good at resting. I have ran full-speed ahead since my college days. It’s where I first learned to juggle classes, activities, work in the residents hall and a part-time job. After marriage, I transitioned to the busyness of raising five kids and building healthy churches with my husband. I’ve been in non-stop motion for most of my life. Let’s not get started on the busyness of the Christmas season. I placed unrealistic demands on myself with the shopping, cooking and decorating. The past few years I’ve realized it’s not a healthy way to exist.

“Behold children are a gift of the Lord. The fruit of the womb is a reward.” Psalm 127:3

We marked a major milestone with our five kids as our youngest daughter, Keziah, celebrated her eighteenth birthday last month. Bob and I are shocked our offspring are all adults, as their age range is 18 to 29. We enjoyed a quiet evening at home, just the two of us, as we talked about this phase of parenthood.

When life was full with busy, small children, we looked forward to when they were all grown. Since Bob and I are quite tall, we imagined they would be too. We were correct with our prediction. We ranged from 5’11” to 6’6” and it’s the one notable characteristic of our family .

Last night my hubby says, “I just wish they were all little and I could tuck them into the Suburban.” It’s a funny thought because lest you think our times in the Suburban were peaceful, happy times— they were anything but. Our kids were notoriously, horrible travelers. We were rarely more than an one to two hours car ride from family, but you would have thought it took days to travel . Dramatic plea’s from the backseats and much lamenting were part of each trip. We always had to stop for restroom breaks and let’s not forget the trip home from Mall of America when we all puked. Now we’re living in three different states and five separate cities, where the car trips are extra long.