MollyMadonna.com

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heart check.

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A friend of ours spoke in church this morning, and his message hit home for me. To paraphrase as succinctly as possible, his challenge was to ask ourselves whether we’re pursuing our own comfort or our calling. I suppose this is a question we can ask ourselves daily, if not all day long. I can, for sure.

As a parent, the opportunities to choose between my own comfort and my calling begin at the earliest hour and end late into the night. On some nights—like those we’ve had in recent days, the choice is readily available around the clock. Am I attentive to the needs of our children, my husband and our household day in and day out, or do I choose to be self-seeking and consider my own comfort first? The true answer, for better or for worse, is both.

I get to decide whether I’m going to let comfort or calling dictate my choices and my life’s direction, even before my feet hit the floor in the morning. 

Today’s message was timely as I sat in the pew with a notecard and pencil, writing out single words in a list as they came to me. With the new year just five days away, I’ve been thinking about a word to commit to the coming year as a focus for my head and heart. I’ve done this now for the past several years, and I’ve discovered that it really works as a way for me to ground myself in a particular theme or direction.

I was writing my list of potential words mid-message, because I often find myself especially connected to what God is doing in my life when I can take the same vantage point from our Sunday morning pew. Maybe it’s because we’ve just been focused in worship, or because I’m surrounded by some of the people I love the most. Whatever the catalyst, I value the chance to capture my thoughts on paper in these moments, so I don’t forget the ways that God is moving in my heart and spirit.

As I considered comfort versus calling and how I want to order my life in the next calendar year, my list of word candidates grew and grew. It will be a joy and a challenge to flesh out which of them takes a defining role as I try to steward my time, relationships and responsibilities well in 2016.

In years past, I’ve found direction in words like grow, embrace, rooted and most recently in 2015, intention. Naturally, I never know as I head into a year exactly what it will bring, and it’s always a stretching and sanctifying process to commit to a theme and then watch it take shape. Intention was a hard one for me this past year, but so beautiful, too. And I feel like I’ve grown in the practice of living on purpose as a result. I hope I can continue to do so, and to build on the foundation of intention as the next year unfolds.

Comfort versus calling. What will we do in 2016 that moves us closer to our calling and more fully into who we’re meant to be?

How will we change the world by changing our worlds, first?

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excited for what’s to come!

molly madonna

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a grace-full Christmas.

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Earlier this week, I was putting Henry to bed and having one of our usual, long, night time chats when he almost started to cry.

“I just never have any Christmas dreams. I only have bad dreams lately. I never have Christmas dreams or dreams about Jesus, and I want to have dreams about Jesus because he’s a really good guy!”

I asked Henry whether I could pray over him before bed, that God would grant him peaceful rest and good dreams, and we prayed together as my big little guy turned over and settled down into sleep.

Isn’t this a picture of what we’re all feeling, just days before Christmas? We don’t want to have the bad dreams, the hardest moments, the scary things–especially when we’re trying to celebrate the most beautiful things instead. The beauty of Christmas and the peace of Jesus are so much more our heart’s desire. Maybe four year olds just have a way of seeing what we all feel way down deep and do not say.

It’s hard when we don’t control all circumstances, and when the things we want feel out of reach. More of Jesus would be so much better, and he is…but in the midst of life and busyness and stress and unrest, how do we find Him?

Today is set apart, because on Christmas, we know where much of the world is looking, and we can look, too. We turn our attention to Bethlehem, the manger, the virgin girl searching for Jesus right with us, even as she gives birth to Him in a lowly stable. We sing the songs that tell and retell the story, we light our candles, we break bread together around the table, we open gifts.

And the love that was poured out on the night of Christ’s birth pushes through the hard and the hurting, even if only for a moment.

This is the gift that remains long after the tree has been put away…the one handed to all of us, whether there’s a box anywhere with our name on it at all. At Christmas, we look and long and maybe even cry out, and the tiny hand of a newborn baby reaches out and offers hopeful grace for the days to come.

I’ve spent a lot of time asking God to guide me into a pattern graceful living this month, knowing that on my own, I might be hard pressed to find the rhythm. And it has been much harder than I’d like to admit most days, and I’ve had to battle more than I imagined to truly get to a space of living gracefully instead of hastily.

Christmas does not bring out the best in all of us when we’re feeling so pressed to keep up and show up (and sometimes, one up). The “Christmas spirit” has often felt more to me like striving and achieving and less like just arriving and believing. I’ve had to fend off all of the things I think I want for all of the good that God has for me, instead. It’s easy to get confused…it’s so easy to be human and forget about the divine.

I suppose I’ve felt a bit like Henry as this Christmas Day came closer. I found myself in the middle of things I didn’t want, when I was craving Christmas and that “really good guy,” Jesus, in my heart.

So I asked Him. I asked to be reminded of the graceful in this season. I asked for slowed down moments and the ability to stop myself in places where I needed more air and less perfection. Arriving at today felt like a marathon, but the good, stretching, growing kind where you PR in the end and have sure footing at the finish line.

This morning, Henry woke up excited as he shouted “Merry Christmas!” from his bed and anxiously awaited the house rising from sleep and into this long-awaited Christmas Day. He was in such a contagiously good mood. And he told me right away as if top of mind, “Mom! I had a Christmas dream! I dreamed that me and Eloise and our cousins were all together, and it was Christmas morning!!!” I couldn’t help but remember our conversation from a few short days ago, and that prayer we offered up to God together, in expectation for what He would do.

Christmas is a season of expectation, and I think it’s a matter of how we set that expectation that makes the difference. Today was imperfect by some standards…nearly all of our family was far away, Eloise had a fever, I didn’t get brunch on the table until 1pm. But it was perfect in this: after days of praying that my heart could be set on graceful living in this Christmas season, God has faithfully shown me where “graceful” resides, all day long.

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Graceful is acknowledging the imperfect and finding the joy anyway. Graceful is a tiny reprieve from a heavy burden. Graceful is a walk in the sunshine in Christmas pajamas at 2pm and Face Time conversations with people we love. Graceful is unplanned and utterly welcome guests. It’s putting down agendas for the sake of others, saying “yes” when “no” feels easier and saying “no” when “yes” is past our limitations. Graceful is what we find when we look to God and ask for help, and He sends us a Savior in the form of a helpless babe.

I am so thankful for this Christmas that has taught me so much about loving and living–in and through and in spite of feelings and circumstances. Tonight, I’ll head to bed early, heart full, stomach full, house full, grace full. I hope that wherever you are and however you’ve spent it, this day has left you full in all of the good ways, too.

Sweet dreams, and Merry Christmas.

molly madonna

 

 

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to be continued.

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I know someone who likes to read the very end of a book before she starts at the beginning. I’m not sure how I feel about this, because I think I’d give up on reading a book part way through if I already knew how it ended. But I do think the idea of reading the ending of a book first makes a great illustration.

Not so much with literature, but in life, there are plenty of times where I’ve wanted to know the end of a story before something even began. When we get bad news, or we’re waiting for news, or we’re hopeful for news that just doesn’t come…it’s easy to wish we could see the light at the end of the tunnel and know for sure that a happy ending was in sight. At least, that’s how I feel.

It’s a pretty big exercise in faith and trust to be content in our circumstances when our circumstances don’t measure up to our desires or hopes. It’s hard to wake up to another day and think, “I’m ready to tackle another 24 hours while x scenario remains unchanged. And I can be completely positive about all of it.”

Isn’t this something we all wrestle at times?

I won’t pretend that I can’t look at my life and be thankful about any number of things, every single day. But is sure is hard when I feel like something should be one way and it’s another altogether, or when I’ve been praying for breakthrough for what feels like forever, and nothing appears to change. I want to know what’s around the corner…I want a count down clock on the issue that’s heavy on my mind, so I can plan and set my expectations accordingly.

I want to know the ending before the story unfolds.

I have to remind myself time and again of the stories that have come full circle in my life. Many answered prayers, many “Aha!” moments, many times where I’ve realized that the ending I thought I wanted wouldn’t have been the very best ending for me at all.

Seems like I have to realize this again, every time that God allows things we don’t think we want or need, and withholds things we’re absolutely sure we want…all for our good and His best. Why is this lesson so hard to learn?

I’ve had a lot of conversations with God today about how I don’t understand everything He’s doing or why. I’ve reminded Him again (as I’ve done so many times before), that He’s planted thoughts in my mind and heart that I’m expecting Him to see through to fruition–as if God needs to be reminded of His plan for me, through my human interpretation. It seems I keep needing the lesson in trusting Him…seems we’re never done learning or searching even when we know what we believe and we believe what we know.

Christmas is arriving and I’m not feeling very Christmassy today. Not feeling graceful or taken with all of the twinkling lights and seasonal music everywhere. What I am feeling taken with is the fact that the one story I do know for sure is, again, unfolding in the midst of a season of uncertainty for my heart.

Jesus came as a baby to save the world, and He’s coming again.

Maybe we don’t know the day or the hour, but we do know the end of the story. I’m not sure that without this great ending to the very best story, any of our other stories matter at all.

I don’t know what God is doing behind the scenes right now in my life…things I cannot and may never see this side of Heaven. I don’t know what God is doing behind the scenes for you, either. What I do know is that He is certainly behind the scenes, orchestrating his very best plans for us even when they don’t feel like any plans at all.

And Jesus makes His entrance here on earth as we tell and retell the story of His birth on Christmas, moving us ever closer to that hope-filled day when we witness the resolution of every story in His glorious return.

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We are being restored, even when we cannot see it.

And I might not be graceful in the waiting and the wanting to know my story, but covered in grace, I know for sure. Same goes for you, too, my friend.

with anticipation,

molly madonna

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grace day.

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Infusing grace is often the quiet, simple act of creating space or margin for ourselves or others. We have to inhale and exhale fully before we can go on with strength.

Today I need to inhale and exhale in both physical and emotional ways. My lungs are tight–the result of something my body is fighting and things my mind is wrestling as well.

I’ve decided to take a bit of a grace day for myself here on the blog, which is perhaps the most graceful thing I could do for my home and family tonight as the celebration of Christmas arrives in just four days. I want to be a loving, patient, grounded person when the 25th gets here–not just for Jason, Henry and Eloise, but mostly, for Christ.

“Behold, your king is coming to you.” Zechariah 9.9

I love this truth. I’m going to do my best to rest in it here tonight. As we anticipate the baby on His way to Bethlehem, I hope you will, too.

grace and peace,

molly madonna

 

“Rejoice greatly, O daughter of Zion!

Shout aloud, O daughter of Jerusalem!

Behold, your king is coming to you;

righteous and having salvation is he,

humble and mounted on a donkey,

on a colt, the foal of a donkey.” Zech 9.9

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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