December 25, 2010 by mollymadonna

merry christmas. love, the kehrers.

2010 marks the first year that we stayed home for Christmas in its entirety. We’ve both been away for two Christmases before, but there were thousands of miles between us and our families then, and being just on the other side of the lake and still not “home for the holidays” feels very different. Still, in our own way, we’ve celebrated Christmas together in our little house this year. We’ve pondered what next year will be like, and how very different the holidays will feel with a little one in our midst. We’ve been grateful, reflective, restful. We’ve missed people we love, and loved people we miss, and we’ll probably always look back on this particular holiday as “the one that felt quiet and calm.” (In moments, I think we’d agree it feels almost too calm, but we’re certain that a baby will change all of that 🙂

And a baby did. 2,010 years ago. It feels good to celebrate Christ with intention, no matter how the schedule looks, what we’re having for dinner, or who we’re having it with. And it feels personal to be here in this house on our last quiet Christmas as “just us.” As much as I have longed for the busyness of family and food and presents in the silent spaces of the day, I’m also grateful for rest and good food and the company of my husband as we soak in what the upcoming year will bring.

Tonight, we wish you all of the most delightful parts of Christmas–along with the peace that comes in embracing Christ and His presence in our lives at this time of year. We pray that you have had your fill–of food, of gifts and gift-giving, and most significantly, of a sense of place and belonging in and amongst the bustle of the holidays.

From our home to yours this evening…

oh, Christmas tree!

oh, Christmas tree 🙂

i love the house at Christmastime!

nativity. the very best part.

stockings! (and one for baby k, just for kicks:)

joy!

wintry dining room table.

thanks to the timer...family photo!

baby k at christmas. 22 weeks!

kruger, caught in the act. merry christmas, fella.

grace and peace, always.

mm, jmk, baby k and kruger 🙂

December 17, 2010 by mollymadonna

expectation.

21 weeks. 21 weeks along and not in a rush, because I know that VERY important things are happening to our little babe right now to prepare him or her for life in this world. I love that fact. But the more I know is developing, and the more I can imagine the little one tucked inside me, the more I grow in expectant anticipation. I suddenly understand quite fully why we refer to this season as a time of “expecting.”

Sometimes, I just want to meet this kiddo, and tonight is one of those nights. I am absolutely, positively enjoying every bit of this experience of being pregnant for the first time, but occasionally it delights me so greatly that I can hardly bear to wait another 19 weeks to meet the tiny one who’s already responsible for so much joy.

Christmas is a perfect season for this feeling to be welling up in me. There is already an anticipation so apparent in each day as we count towards Christmas and the celebration of the birth of the Christ child. Tonight, I joined a 200+ person choir, over 60 musicians, Avalon and a completely packed sanctuary to worship the baby King. There were moments that seemed so contemplative and introspective–where I almost felt alone with our amazing God and this little baby and my thoughts, and not surrounded by several thousand people. And then there were times of worship where joy built up so intensely in my spirit that I could hardly manage to keep from crying and shouting and dancing all at once on the stage. Peace, amazement and delight felt like gigantic exclamation points in those moments, as I reflected on the gift that God has given this world…and the very tangible gift that He is giving to us as a family right now.

My belly is starting to show more obviously these days, but I still can’t help the desire to nearly shout the good news to people I’ve not seen in a long time. I’m just so overwhelmed with the JOY of it all that I want to share it with everyone! What an amazing likeness to the way that I feel about the good news of Christ and what His being born means for this world and everyone in it. It truly does evoke the same kind of emotion in my spirit–one that remains un-quenched no matter how many times I can share the news. And God has afforded us so many opportunities around the world to bring that news to others–in Australia, South Africa, Swaziland, Mozambique, Egypt, India and beyond, that I sometimes forget just how good it feels to share the same news with people in your own backyard. There was a special sweetness to tonight as we all sang together, “Gloria! In Excelsis Deo!…”Good news, good news! An angel brings good news…He is light! He is love! He is grace! Born on Christmas Day!”

It’s true that the anticipation of Christ is one of the most wonderful feelings I’ve ever experienced. Now, with this little babe dancing in my belly as I sing aloud to share the greatest “Good News,” is it even more wonderful. I will never forget this Christmas season–the first where I can, in the fullest way, contemplate the meaning of expectation. I am soaking in every hour, every kick and movement, every peaceful thought, and every joy that comes in knowing a baby awaits.

December 6, 2010 by mollymadonna

winter-full.

The first post of December. Out the window, everything is covered–even buried, in white. The Christmas tree is lighting up the room, my cup of tea is still half full, and there is a baby dancing in my belly.

Tonight, I am considering the new, warm boots that kept my feet dry in knee high snow drifts…the way that others served me all day by wiping off, warming up and shoveling out my car…the compassion God gives us in moments when we desperately need to exhibit love and grace…the lyrics to the music sung tonight in a room filled with joy and good news.

Good news. Tomorrow, we will go to see our sweet little growing baby. By now, he or she is no longer the peanut-shaped, inch-long start of tiny person; instead, arms and legs that move and sense and respond, eyes and ears and fingers and toes that we will get a glimpse of, a miniature nose and a shape that will soon be the face we fall in love with over and over again.

I am already in love.

It’s coming on Christmas, and this year, I am smitten with the season. Delighted by the changes, welcoming the piles of snow. I know that amongst them, life will continue to take form within–almost as if Winter and Spring are one in the same for me this time around. There is so much hope under the gray and slush and fluff.

On Sunday, a friend said that she thinks there’s something particularly special about carrying a baby during at Christmastime. I think of Mary and Joseph, a stable and a baby boy…Away in a manger, no crib for a bed, the little Lord Jesus lay down His sweet head…the stars in the sky looked down where He lay…the little Lord Jesus asleep on the hay…

There is so much anticipation in the coming of a baby, and the celebration of the coming of Christ Jesus in the form of a babe makes it tangible, monumental, full. I have always loved Christmas, but it’s true that this year, the season has a different kind of glow about it. The lights on the tree twinkle like stars, three stockings hang with intention, and we wait, with joyful hearts in expectation, for the good news of babies being born.

off to dance with the babe,

November 30, 2010 by mollymadonna

home in a little blue house.

Whenever we travel home to Chicago, I’m always grateful for time with family and the chance to catch up on the weeks or months that have taken place in between our last visit and the one we’re sharing over the latest holiday. I’m also always grateful to come home, and to settle back into life in our little house in this little town.

I like it here, and I like the world we’ve created around us.

I think I used to be somehow afraid to make my own life, hours away from family and where we grew up–and close, only to things that are new to our lives since becoming adults and coming into our own selves. There are pieces of family and home that were once hard to say goodbye to, even if we knew we’d revisit them and go back to where all of the memories from childhood had their day. Nowadays, the people are still hard to say goodbye to when we go. But the places (and sometimes the spaces) grow less and less difficult to leave. When we come home, I’ve missed our bed, the toilet that runs through the night, our bookshelves brimming with titles, and the quirkiness of an 80 year old house. I like watching Kruger run around comfortably because he knows each room and corner and smell. I like it when we’re all tucked in and curled up for the night where we belong.

It feels like there’s been a lot of heartache at home (amongst family) as of late–job loss and illness, strained relationships, economic hardship, life slipping away. My inclination as a person is to want to fix it all and to make everything as good as new. If I could, I’d carry a magic wand around with me and wave off difficult circumstances. I’d pray away all of the complications and worries that have piled up around people we love. Going home makes all of these challenges very fresh again, and coming home from them, I’m left feeling as if wounds have been opened up anew in my heart. It’s been hard to learn that I can’t make everything right, and that no matter how hard I may be inclined to try, it’s not always my job.

Coming home after a holiday weekend suddenly makes the new life we’ve created very tangible to me again. It outlines and highlights the things I’m responsible for, the items I’m called to make a priority, the role I’ve been given to play. And even as I struggle to leave other things simply to prayer and compassion and love, I recognize that I have primary responsibilities as a wife and a mother where they didn’t once use to be. I’m thankful for this. I’m grateful for a few things that I know have to be a priority before the rest. It isn’t that I want to put anything aside, or that I love anyone less than I’ve ever loved them before, but there’s freedom in being able to define what has to come first.

It’s amazing how God is already using this little baby (who I now feel and SEE kicking and moving in my belly on a daily basis!), to teach me things about family and priorities and home. When I carry the burden and weight of too many other things, I’m now responsible for what toll it might take on my body, and consequently, what toll that might take on our unborn child. More than that, I’m also responsible for what toll it might take on our marriage. Priorities. Clarity. Definition.

I have been so blessed with family, for many years, from many angles. But now there’s one family that comes absolutely first, without exception. And it lives in my house. Our house. In a little town where we’ve created and are busy creating home. My heart will always stretch across the big lake on over to the other side, but it has to be here first. I would expect to be called to nothing less. So this, tonight, is me handing everything else over to God again and asking Him to take the heartache and burden and pain and to carry it. I just can’t do it on my own, and it’s harrowing to try. This is me setting down my worry in the best way I know how, and putting it to bed with the day. It will be there tomorrow, I know, but maybe it will be there in a little bit lighter form. Meanwhile, I have baby to nourish and a husband to care for and a family to nurture. There is life in this place. May it grow, and grow, and grow.

for the joy of the Lord,

November 8, 2010 by mollymadonna

accessorizing.

I’m an accessories kind of girl. Scarves, earrings, bags, you name it. I could shop for them regularly and rarely tire of coming up with new and creative ways to employ the ones I own. I’ve given myself limits on purchasing, of course–no more scarves or earrings, in fact, unless they’re traded, gifted, crafted or loaned. And although I’ve gone through my closet time and again in an effort to pare down my collection, I’ll toss tops, pants or even shoes to avoid eliminating one, beautifully woven scarf. Thing is, nearly all of the accessories in my wardrobe have memories attached. They’ve been given to me by special people, or picked up in colorful markets around the world as I’ve traveled. They’re souvenirs, masquerading as everyday items I depend on for warmth or cheer or to “tie it all together” on a not-so-together morning. At the risk of sounding entirely trivial, I have always felt a little more “Molly” with them, and a little less “Molly” without. Until now.

In the past number of weeks, as I’ve swapped things out of my wardrobe for other, more practical (read: long, loose, comfortable, appropriate for my new shape) items, I’ve also realized I’m far less dependent on the accessories I’ve grown so accustomed to wearing. It’s not because I couldn’t use a splash of color in my life every day, or because the bright green and gold, India-inspired earrings I acquired this Spring aren’t among my favorites…I think it’s because I’m just too busy celebrating the life forming beneath my skin. I look in the mirror each morning (and now, each night before bed), to admire the life-change taking place, right before my eyes. And sometimes nowadays, I consider a scarf, but put it back; I’d just rather be able to look down and see the most tangible evidence I currently have of the sweet, sweet baby I can’t wait to meet. Far less trivial than the latest bag or necklace I can’t pass up, I’m swapping adornments for adoration, finally feeling comfortable in my own form and embracing my inability to button up my favorite pair of jeans.

It’s fair to say that there have been days when my image of self has gotten lost in needing to look or be something–pulled together, coordinated, classy, thin, trendy, beautiful. And of course with time and age, and certainly with a better understanding of who God is in my life and who He has created me to be, I have outgrown some of those needs. To be perfectly honest, I’ve also held on to a few of them.

As with most things, growing and maturing do not mean that we become perfect (or comfortably imperfect) overnight. In this life, I will never be everything I strive to be, and I’m grateful for that. I don’t ever want to believe that I’ve “arrived” while the rest of the world around me carries on learning and experiencing grace. I do, however, want to take the snippets and pieces of each season I’m granted and make the most of them. Like this one, for example.

I want to remember, long after this baby is born and growing and grown, that I have been comfortable in my own skin. I want to remember it on the days when my inclination is to accessorize in order to cover something up, instead of just for the sake of fun or fashion. I want to love the extra pounds on the scale because they indicate a healthy, developing baby on the way. I want to glow, not just because I’m pregnant or put make-up on in the morning, but because I see the beauty in things as God created them–the people and places around me, and my own reflection in the mirror.

I’m grateful to be in the midst of this growing season, and for so many more reasons than I could have once imagined. I love the way that, as much as this baby needs my body to carry it, I need to be carrying this baby. It is the greatest, most treasured, most memorable “look” I’ve ever worn, and possibly the most important lesson in self image I needed to learn. It’s totally not about me at all, and I love that. Baby K is the best accessory I could ask for, woven together and coloring up my life like a million perfect scarves at my fingertips every morning.

adorned (and adoring),