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it’s a Christmas miracle.

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What a difference a year makes. One year ago tonight, I was still trying to catch a deep breath after tucking the kids into bed. The contents of the day were only starting to settle in…Jason and I had made a daunting drive home on icy roads a few hours earlier, the same day I took the scariest call I’ve ever received.

It had been a late breakfast kind of day for the kiddos and me–we were still spooning through oatmeal at the table when I heard a text alert go off from the kitchen. I’d missed a call from Jason, so I listened to the six second voicemail I still have saved in my inbox and called him back. I could hear the sirens of the ambulance in the background, and while I tried so hard to keep a clear head through our conversation, my mind raced to a million places. Jason was being rushed to the hospital, where I’d find him in Trauma 1 in the ER later that afternoon.

He’d been an hour and a half away from home (and just five minutes away from his destination) when he was hit by a pick up truck that spun and slid directly into him, throwing him into a guardrail. Jason had gotten out to help someone on the side of the road, and was not in his vehicle at the time of the accident. I tried to organize details in my head…”he knew how to call me…he’s talking…he’s breathing,” while he told me that he was being taken in for scans of his back and legs. When I asked him what hurt, he responded hesitantly, “I’m ok…I’m fine.”

“He’s paralyzed,” I thought.

We were only able to talk for about a minute, and getting off the phone, the only real information I had was the name of the hospital where Jason was headed, and that he was alive. Even then, it was very hard not to imagine the worst, and all of the ways the day could go from there.

I made a few calls to ask for prayer, contacted the hospital and tried to figure out what I should do next. Our kiddos were too little to take along to the hospital, and I wasn’t in good shape to drive. In that next hour (and without my soliciting the help), a friend drove from her job as a nanny (charge in tow:) to care for my kiddos so I could get on the road, my mom and her husband jumped in the car from Chicago to head our way, and Jason’s co-worker canceled the rest of his day to pick me up and drive me to the hospital. It was crazy-humbling to watch all of the pieces fall together around me while I ran around the house, trying to pack a bag of random items I thought we might need. Even my contact at the hospital went above and beyond to stay in touch with me and to keep me posted with the minimal information she could provide.

Arriving at the hospital was surreal. We went through metal detectors and security guards before being ushered back to the ER where Jason was resting. I had no idea what to expect at all.

Honestly, he didn’t look like himself at first glance. But he smiled and was talking, and I hesitated to ask him what he could feel and couldn’t, so relieved to see him and be there, and so nervous about the next step at the same time. Test after test came back. No internal bleeding. No fracture to his leg. Nerves firing. So many things had gone right, even though a lot was still very wrong.

The hospital hesitated to release Jason that night, but we kept thinking about our little ones at home and the fact that we could get back to the ER in a hurry if need be. In retrospect, maybe we shouldn’t have wanted to make the trek home then, but as we attempted to settle back into the little blue house at bedtime that night, it felt amazing to be here. Together.

It was a week before Christmas, and Christmas suddenly looked nothing like we’d planned. It was horrible and traumatic and painful (for Jason) and hard, but he was home. My kiddos had their daddy. He was in and out of deep sleep on various medications, and struggling with memory and clarity through the holidays, but Henry and Eloise didn’t process all of that. They just knew daddy had been hurt and that he was going to get better. And every time I looked at him, I wanted to cry.

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When you feel like you’ve had your own Christmas miracle, it’s hard not to get weepy at every turn.

As I look back on it, there are many beautiful and redeeming things about that unexpected day, the greatest of which is that Jason is here with us, alive, today. He is not paralyzed. He did incur a head injury, memory loss, a broken nose, plenty of bumps, cuts and bruises, and a reoccurring vision of a truck speeding at him in no time flat. By nature of his blacking out several times, he doesn’t completely recall the events of that morning, but we know a few important things:

  1. Jason prayed for protection over his drive as he left the house that morning
  2. Minutes before his accident, the kids and I prayed for his safety as he traveled
  3. There is good reason to think he might not be here today if any one small thing had changed in the moment he was struck by the truck
  4. Jason’s being “OK” and able to come home from the hospital (on restrictions and heavy medications, but home) that same night is nothing short of a miracle
  5. We can’t think for a moment that our lives here are not finite…and that they cannot change in a split second. Ours did, and we were reminded in a very humbling way that we are not promised days on this earth by any stretch

Looking back on this past year, there are many other takeaways from December 18th, 2014…all valuable, and too many to list here. We hobbled through the holidays less than gracefully, trying to make our way through the impact of a head injury and all of the trauma that comes with getting hit by a truck.

Jason found renewed purpose in being alive after such a close call. I found renewed purpose as his wife and as mom to our kiddos. We spent Christmas Day in the ER in Chicago, after new symptoms raised flags and Jason needed medical care. We spent New Year’s Eve blinking hard at the closing events of 2014 and the way we’d begin the year ahead.

One event led to others, as is always the case, and I’m convinced that 2015 is largely the sum of many lost and wandering days and many incredible days combined. Everything has felt more raw this year, more real. It feels good to turn the page on this anniversary of sorts, and to high five each other in gratitude for what it’s all meant. Surely we have been changed for better and for worse, but we have also been guided and cared for and have seen God’s hand in many places.

For all of this, we are thankful.

Perhaps last year has a lot to do with why I’ve felt so burdened to pursue a graceful December this time around. Just one more stretching and growing thing that’s come from a year ago today…

Here’s to this coming Christmas, and to all that it will hold. I pray that the season will shine favorably upon each one of us, and that the unexpected comes only in pleasant and graceful ways.

gratefully,

molly madonna

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after darkness, comes light.

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There are Christmas lights everywhere. “Christmas house!” Eloise shouts from the backseat every time we pass another creatively lit display. Here at home, we light the tree when we wake up in the morning and turn it off when the last of us goes to bed…so many good memories and people represented in each ornament and decoration twinkling in the lights. They’re all beautiful to me.

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In every place with a Christmas tree, the holiday icon stands tall and obvious, lighting up the room. Being perfectly appointed by catalogue standards or taking on a Charlie Brownish quality makes no difference. We have this universal reminder that Christmas brings light, and we place it at the center of our celebrations and traditions year after year.

In much the same way that we pull out or drag home a tree each December, decking it out to be a token of light and life in the Christmas season, the holidays also pull out or drag home so much that feels contrary to Christmas and celebration. Sadness. Loneliness. Hopelessness. Anger. Unsettling. Discontent. And I think we’ve come to expect it, but we also want to hide it–this darkness that feels more tangible around the holidays than at other times of the year.

Where does the “most wonderful time of the year” leave room for heartache, when it feels like everyone else is doing fine and making merry?

We tell ourselves that things have to be perfect…to look perfect, to feel perfect, to seem perfect. Perhaps if we can prove ourselves in decorating and gifting, we can push past the hard parts of Christmas and no one will know. Or at least, we hope, no one will ask.

If they ask, suddenly our hurts will grow legs and stand tall in the middle of the room–not unlike our trees, but so much less appealing.

At Christmastime more than any other, hurts and longings are raw and vulnerable. So why, on a holiday meant to celebrate the birth of the One who came to save us from pain and sin and death, do we sometimes feel so burdened and without life?

There is hurt and grief at Christmas time that just can’t hide behind anything. It comes out. It comes out in tears, in anger. It comes out in family dynamics and miscommunications, in perfectionism and standards too high for any one person to keep.

I believe it comes out, because at this time of year more than any other, the whole earth consciously craves a great light. And as we wait to once again celebrate the coming of that great light as a tiny baby to a broken world, we grapple.

We ask ourselves whether we’re worthy. Whether we’re remembered. We wonder why a God–who would love the world so much that he would send his son to live and die in it, could also withhold, or take away from, or seem so silent, to us.

We miss people we love and we long for people to love. We try to quiet the hurt in our hearts and it beats louder–so loudly that it feels like everyone around us might hear it. We break.

In this season of light and darkness, where contrasts cast shadows and we wrestle with what is good and holy while we wrestle with ourselves, Jesus still comes. 

He comes humbly and small, alert and unassuming. He comes to a manger and to cradle us all the while. He sees the light and the darkness, the contrasts of joy and sorrow, and every last shade of them matters.

He is the light that drives out darkness. Not so that darkness doesn’t come out of hiding, but precisely so that it does.

“Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate, only love can do that.” MLK Jr.

We can sit by the tree this Christmas and hope that its light distracts from our pain and suffering, or we can trust that the light will shine brighter as we allow ourselves to acknowledge the deep darknesses we carry into the Christmas season.

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Let’s set our hardships and our hearts at the base of the tree in this graceful December. Not as perfectly wrapped presents waiting to be revealed on Christmas morning, but as an offering to the God who already knows what’s tucked inside.

“And an angel of the Lord suddenly stood before them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them; and they were terribly frightened. But the angel said to them, ‘Do not be afraid; for behold, I bring you good news of great joy which will be for all the people; for today in the city of David there has been born for you a Savior, who is Christ the Lord.’ ” Luke 2.9-11

Do not be afraid. There has been born for you a Savior.

I have to remember this in these Advent days, too. And so we light our trees daily as we wait in joyful hope for the one Light that drives darkness from the earth for once and for all.

love and light,

molly madonna

“He has come for us, this Jesus. He has come for all mankind. He has come for us, the Messiah. Born to give us life!” -Meredith Andrews

 

 

 

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date night= the matrix.

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We know we’re far from being the only ones. Nearly everyone is making holiday plans right now, and it seems there’s always some point in the process where we have a “coming to Jesus” meeting about how it’s all going to play out. It’s a conversation that’s easily back-burnered as we wait for all parties to weigh in, and then suddenly, Christmas is less than two weeks away and for everyone’s sake, we’ve got to nail down dates and itineraries.

In our house, this conversation usually happens in bits and pieces, always after the kids go down to bed, and crammed in between every other pressing conversation or to do on our radar around the holidays. (Sometimes a graceful December looks like planning after hours so we can have smoother days when the little ones are awake).

For us, the key to minimizing scheduling woes at the holidays, it turns out, is the powerful duo of pen plus paper, and a little space to think and talk without interruption. Tonight’s date night brought to you by the Christmas matrix.

To think clearly, we just have to see it all on paper. It’s essential (for right now) that we write out dates and assign times and spaces to people to make sure everyone’s on the calendar. I don’t remember my parents doing this when I was small, but we all lived in close proximity to our extended family, and there were two sets of grandparents to visit. Now, with relatives spread across six states and four grandparent Christmases to celebrate, we’re working with a little trickier bag of tricks.

We’re trying to satisfy everyone’s hopes and scheduling constraints, and we’re also trying to consider our own. What is it like for Henry and Eloise to spend Christmas at home vs. away? How can we be present in our home church for some of the most beautiful celebrations of the year, but also travel over weekends and make it to as many family gatherings as possible? How do we say yes to this thing and no to that, when it’s all family and all important?

Here’s where we absolutely had to land last year (Jason was hit by a truck a week before Christmas and a lot of things changed), and perhaps where we need to land this year and each one going forward: we’re going to make plans and do our best to see people, but the point at which Henry and Eloise are worn thin and we’re losing our grip on positive family time is the point at which we reassess and adjust as necessary.

There’s just nothing graceful about December when we don’t ensure that the kiddos needs and our emotional well being are intact. As dramatic as that may sound, there’s a reason why at least one new family dynamic-centered Christmas movie comes out every year…because everyone has family dynamics, and everyone is trying to figure out how to navigate them best–especially at the holidays.

We all love each other, or we wouldn’t put forth such efforts to make plans, make meals, host people for days on end, find the *perfect* gift for everyone on our list, drive or fly hundreds or thousands of miles…

Christmas matters. And being with family to celebrate and have experiences together matters, too.

There has to be a way to help Christmas along gracefully, so that we can all enjoy holiday time with our families, and that everyone around us can as well. Maybe that means a special date night designated to fill out the Christmas matrix. Maybe that means celebrating Christmas on rotation, with different sides of the family–first one, then the other.

Maybe it just means acknowledging that we’re all human and all unable to be in two places at once, as much as our hearts would love to do so.

Family dynamics are going to exist, and they’ll impact scheduled gatherings and once a year visits. This reality is a given, but we can do our best to minimize disappointments and maximize good Christmas memories by planning well where need be and remembering that we’re not the only ones who have an ideal version of Christmas running through our minds.

When we let down our expectations (even a little), we’re better able to see the hopes and desires of those in our midst. Perhaps we can even make peace with the matrix as we see that our efforts to love and love well are the very best ways to shed a graceful light on each Christmas celebration.

Hoping that your Christmas plans don’t require a matrix, but if they do, I’ll also hope you can plot it all out on a date night. 😉

Sometimes graceful feels like hard work. Let’s remember that the babe in the manger can carry all of our yokes and make them light!

molly madonna

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letting go and as you go: the art of graceful Christmas living.

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This post was written by guest contributor, Sarah Bragg.

The Christmas cards that we receive in the mail are one of my favorites parts of the holiday season. On one hand, I love them because they’re actual mail that awaits me in my mailbox, but on the other hand, I love those cards because of the people and stories they represent. Every family is different. They all have different stories. Most of the cards reflect the smiles and display the easy moments from the past year. They don’t typically capture the imperfect, difficult parts.

It’s not bad to put our best foot forward, but sometimes its easy to look at those cards and see a perfect family. And consequently, to look at our own family and believe we don’t measure up.

We all tend to have an image in our minds of what the perfect family looks like. This is the family who doesn’t fight. Coordinates their clothing. Has toddlers who were potty trained by two. Has tweens who are pleasant every waking moment. Their house smells of gingerbread cookies. And they do Advent family devotionals every day.

We can look at these images in the mail or on social media and wonder how in the world anyone has time to do all the things in December when we’re barely coming up for a single breath each morning.

To me, graceful doesn’t mean perfect. Graceful seems to be fluid, able to move, able to change positions with ease.

There are no perfect families. There are no perfect people. Maybe Graceful December is about letting go of the perfect picture of what you should be doing this season. Maybe its about letting go of the expectation of who you are and what you do. And maybe being graceful is about doing something as you go.

Maybe it’s about letting go of what your house should look like (e.g. It should be fully decorated including mini wooden snow skis and a sled by the fireplace.) Our front steps are bare. We have to skip garland because our cat eats it all. We have minimal decorations up in our house–not because of any reason other than I need things to be simple in life right now. The reality of life for us is chaos, so decorations are something I needed to let go. Its okay that our tree looks like a 5 year old decorated it, because she did! It’s not perfect, but it’s beautiful.

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Maybe being graceful is about letting go of what your family should be doing together. We look around and see all the people doing Advent devotionals and crafts with their families. And you want to do Advent because you want to bring the real meaning of Christmas to your children so badly, but you just can’t seem to do it. I get it. I have great intentions and fail every year. Give yourself grace.

I am going to go ahead and raise my hand here. We aren’t doing Advent this year. I give you permission to relax. Maybe instead of doing some elaborate craft (because crafting with toddlers is elaborate!), you simply set up a nativity scene and talk about the characters. I overheard my 5 year old playing with our Little People Nativity set. She performed the wedding ceremony of Mary and Joseph saying, “You may now kiss the bride.” Then, she pressed the button to play “Away In A Manager.” Adorable, right? As you go.

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You don’t have to do bible readings everyday, but you can incorporate the truths of Christmas as you go. My nearly 8 year old thought Moses was Jesus’ father. I have a seminary degree and my child is missing key components of the story. But you know what, it’s okay. She will get it one day. Isn’t that being graceful—fluid and able to move with ease? We will talk about the actual characters of the story as we go.

Maybe graceful is about letting go of what you look like.

Maybe you put so much pressure on doing all the right things for your kids, their classrooms, their teachers or your friends that you have placed an unattainable expectation on yourself. Extend grace to yourself.

Allow yourself to take in the wonder of the season. Do something that feeds your soul.

Last Sunday, we decided to not go to church. No one was sick. The weather was pleasant. But sometimes we need to let go of of the expectation of going to church every Sunday—even in December. That day, it was better for our family to be home. The girls built a fort in their room while my husband and I read books by the fire. My soul was refreshed.

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Graceful December is about letting go of perfection—letting go of expectations. Embrace an attitude of ease. I officially take the pressure off of you. Leave room to move this Christmas and to be inspired. Leave room to breathe.

Because maybe, just maybe, God wants to do something graceful in you.

And Graceful December is about experiencing Christmas as you go. As you go, let the wonders of this season bring up the truth that God loves us so much that He gave us the greatest gift.

 

 

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Sarah is in her mid-thirties striving to keep her head above water while seeking to live a life with purpose. She is married with two beautiful (busy) girls. She worked in full-time ministry for more than 10 years. Before having kids, which left her wondering how to connect words to form a complete sentence, she graduated from Dallas Theological Seminary and authored the book, Body. Beauty. Boys. The Truth About Girls and How We See Ourselves. She is currently the Lead Editor for XP3 Middle School at Orange. She could spend countless hours decorating, drinking coffee, on Instagram and perusing Pinterest. She creates over at SurvivingSarah.com and you can find her on IG as @sarahwbragg.

I met this beautiful mama and kindred heart at Allume just a few months back. Perhaps the most wonderful thing about attending a Christian women’s writing conference is meeting like-minded, thought provoking friends we wouldn’t otherwise have the privilege to know. I love Sarah’s heart for her family and for keeping things real in a gracious way. She has an amazing eye for design and an obvious passion for ministry. If only we didn’t live a great distance apart…it would be so fun for our lives and kiddos to intersect in daily life. Thankful for the way something as abstract as the internet can bring us together and keep us connected! As you go today, friends. xo, molly madonna

 

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four year old for president: an interview.

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As you know by now, I’m nine days into my pursuit of a graceful month leading up to Christmas. The measurables I have in place to weigh outcomes are extremely scientific:

-What is the state of my heart in this season, and what is the state of my heart on the other side of December?

-How do our children respond to Christmas this year?

-What types of conversations are we having as a family and with the people around us?

-Have I been intentional on a daily basis to further the true purpose of the upcoming holiday, while toning down the commercial and material sides of the Christmas coin?

With these in mind, I’m wrestling good things every day and facing important, hard conversations with myself and others. The impact of this effort to infuse our December days with a graceful slant is worthwhile, I think, even though I can’t yet see where we’ll be at the end of it.

Curious about how our kiddos are feeling as Christmas approaches, I asked Henry if we could talk for a bit after dinner tonight, and he obliged. I floated him a number of questions, the answers to which varied in humor, wisdom and emotion. I’m thankful for this barometer and little window into his mind, and I thought you might find a four year old’s perspective on current affairs somewhat helpful (maybe uplifting?), too. Here goes (my interjections are in parentheses):

Q: What do you think of when you hear the word Christmas?

Henry: Ummmm, Santa Claus. The Grinch. And celebrating Jesus’ birthday…

 

Q: What do you think of when you hear the word grace?

Henry: Grace babies. Do you know a baby that’s named Grace? That makes me think of her. What does grace mean?

 

Q: What is the best thing about Christmas to you (be honest)?

Henry: Um, Jesus’ birthday. (Why?) ‘Cause I think it’s the best part of Christmas ’cause celebrating Jesus’ birthday is important because Jesus is the most important thing in the whole world…on the whole planet!

 

Q: What would you tell another person who doesn’t know about Christmas yet?

Henry: That you celebrate Jesus’ birthday. (Is that all you know about Christmas?) No. I know you get presents and you decorate your Christmas trees and you celebrate Jesus…

 

Q: How do you feel, knowing that there are people who had to leave their homes because they were no longer safe there?

Henry: Sad, ’cause they’re refugees. And I don’t like how refugees don’t have safe homes. I wish they had safe homes.

 

Q: What should we do to help them?

Henry: Send them food and water. And toys, ’cause they don’t have toys. They lost their toys.

 

Q: What do you think about them coming here?

Henry: Good. But I hope they won’t bring any bad. Well, by…they might bring their bad with them. (What’s their bad?) Well…how their homes are not safe. Like that bad.

 

Q: Do you know what made their homes unsafe?

Henry: Um, danger and fighting.

 

Q: How do you think you would feel if you were a refugee?

Henry: Sad. (What would you be thinking about?) Danger. If we lived in danger. Like, fighting and stuff. Well, like it would get dangerous-er and danger and danger and danger and danger…like a ton of danger. (Would you be afraid?) Absolutely! (What would you be afraid of?) Tornadoes and stuff. That’s part of their danger.

 

Q: What do you think the hardest part of being a refugee would be?

Henry: Not having a safe home. And having to be wet in the water. Without our swim suits on.

 

Q: How do you think refugees are celebrating Christmas?

Henry: No. I do not think they’re celebrating Christmas. ‘Cause they don’t know about Jesus if they don’t have a safe place. (Do you think Jesus would give them a safe place if they knew about him?) Mmmhmmm. (Do you think Jesus knows about them?) Probably, ’cause he made everybody on the earth. (What do you think Jesus wants to do about it?) Help them. Save them. (How?) By like giving them good stuff from Heaven. Well, he takes some stuff in his hands from Heaven, and sends it down to the sea. Like the refugee rescue ships…This is hard for me…The things are good in heaven. (So you think Jesus wants to rescue people who need him?) Yes. (Why?) ‘Cause it’s good that he rescues us.

Photo credit: Embolden Studio

So there you have it. Real thoughts from a real little person who is obviously impacted by and processing this season and Jesus and the world along with the rest of us. I feel like I should note that we don’t have a T.V. at home, so Henry’s ideas about the refugee crisis aren’t based on a news reel running in the background of his day. He asks a lot of questions and hears every last word that’s floating around him, and we do our best to address things with him in an age appropriate, honest way. We definitely don’t get this right all of the time, so we’re regularly assessing what information is OK for him at this stage and what’s too much for a four year old. Tough stuff, isn’t it? Parents of grown/older children, tips are welcome 🙂

Turns out I prefer Henry’s approach to *at least* a handful of current presidential hopefuls, so maybe we should consider lowering the age requirement for the job? Kids hearts are the best.

Wishing you a string of graceful days as you process life and faith with the ones you love, too,

molly madonna