22 December 2009

The Writer in the Family

I told a friend that you can tell our Christmas letter was written by the writer in the family (that would be me) and not the scientist.  I don't think scientists generally use words like "morass".  Not that it's so long, it's just more of an English Major kind of word.

Anyway, all those notes I've been sending hither and yon have really gotten me in the mood for writing letters, and since the budget can't handle another postal onslaught yet, and because I hope that many people who stop by my blog will fall into either one category or the other, here's one I wrote today:

Dear friends and family,

     People always say that God never gives us more than we can handle - the corollary statement being, of course, that one wishes his opinion of one was not quite so high.  With David's long hours, repeated family illness, my recent miscarriage, and my teething nearly-2-yr.-old, I've been "on my last nerve" for a while now.  This Fall I've begun to truly understand those who look forward with such hope to that sweet invitation "Enter, now, into thy Father's rest."  Because rest simply hasn't been a part of my recent existence.
     But God...that wonderful phrase.  He does see.  He does know.  And just as my house began to burst at the seams with the uncontainable energy of my children, the snow began to fall.  You'll pardon me, I'm certain, for viewing this as a personal gift.
     The first morning they woke up to snow on the ground, they couldn't get outside fast enough.  Monkey1 had been asking for a snowball fight for over a week, and the fact that the snow was barely a dusting didn't slow him down at all.  Of course Monkey3 had to be suited up and sent out, too.  And a blessed silence descended on my home.  I remember playing in the snow for what seemed hours as a child, but I never appreciated what a gift that was to my mother until now.
     I've just run out to heft the second layer of snowman to its rightful place, and now I'm sitting in silence broken only by the ticking clock.  Bliss.  (Incidentally, as we peeled wet layers off our children when they returned indoors that first morning, we realized Monkey2 had been in such a rush to get outdoors, she had put her snowsuit on over nothing but her pull-up.)
     This has been a difficult season for so many people, and a period of rest is hard to come by.  Let me encourage you to lean hard on God through difficult times.  Know that he will carry you when another step seems impossible.  I've been there.  And when those moments of rest appear (all too briefly, at times!) don't grasp them too tightly.  There will be another.  As my moment passes (and the children begin pounding at the door) I will move forward to the next thing, trusting that rest will come again just when I need it most.
     If you'll excuse me now, I have a young man requesting details for blowing up "snowmans."  :-)
     God's grace and peace to you all.

~The Rambling Housewife

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