Hold Wide the Door

...where meek souls will receive him,
still the dear christ enters in.

where children pure and happy
pray to the blessed child,

where misery cries out to thee,

son of the mother mild,
where charity stands watching
and faith holds wide the door,

the dark night wakes,

the glory breaks,

and christmas comes once more...

My husband and spawn humored me (once again) on Monday night.  We went to hear the Harvard University Choir perform their annual Christmas Carol Service.  Hark! The beauty my ears beheld!  Traditional carols--Scottish, Flemish, Welsh, and American. A freaking PIPE ORGAN! Procession hymn in Latin; Silent Night sung simultaneously in German and English.  Such glorious music vibrating through my core!  When Gizmo was not climbing the balcony wall in his snow boots, I was in pure bliss.

Obviously, we're talking about Harvard here.  I take my kids to these (free) types of events to expose them to the finest forms of music and art.  A "worship service" held at One Harvard Yard isn't exactly where I expect to worship.  But neither was the side of my baby's crib, the mall bathroom, or the pond where my kids were knee-deep feeding the ducks their lunch.  He surprises us sometimes with joy.
Even sad joy.

Our hearts are still sore and aching for all the babies and their parents who are reeling with grief.
Our minds combatting this side or that of gun control, mental illness, politics.
A world that is so broken, our hearts strike with fear.
But hasn't it always been broken?
Why should we expect America to fare any better than Isreal or Sudan?

I'm not very good at political thinking.  I have a thorough distaste for such discussions on T.V., Facebook, or in my living room.  I'm wired for Ground Zero.  Ground Zero is the people I love.  I couldn't give a rat's what's going on in the news, so long as I'm able to love and nurture those closest to me.  Maybe that's short-sighted, maybe it's self-centered.  This is what I know: if B.daddy and I are not good parents to our children, this world is just going to have a few more souls to heap on the pile of Messed Up.  Ground Zero is where I work to lift up those who will lift up infinitely more.

My mind has been spinning with all of this since Friday.  Pulled in all these directions, then shaking myself back to the reality that all I can do is love.
Love my Lord,
love my man,
love my babies,
love my brothers and sisters,
love the broken-hearted and despairing.
I have plenty of these in my life.  With eyes to see and ears to hear, we all do.

So in this High Church-esque service, surrounded by stupidly smart, intimidating brains, I find myself singing O Little Town of Bethlehem.  And in an instant, I'm at my Father's feet, crying misery and tiny coffins and aching arms, and Oh, dear Lord have mercy on me!  I can't stand knowledge of such pain.  What hope do I hold out to my babies that's not followed by, at least I hope so?

Oh that my faith would hold wide the door...
that I may hope no matter how many tragedies I file under Seen It....
that I may love these children pure and happy.

the dark night wakes,

and glory breaks,

and christmas comes once more...

Mercy

When I was a child I thought like a child.
I didn't have reference points to interpret loss, tragedy, and deep disappointment.  I viewed my mom, other women, men, towering above with great tears rolling out over things--no, over words I didn't know.  Ignorance and innocence were on my side.
I am older now.  I am a wife, a mother, a friend.  I do have reference points for pain, sadness, and disappointment. I have been loved so much and learned to love more truly.  To love truly is to risk everything.  The world that once made me dream of greatness now grieves my spirit.  My heart aches.
You know, I think I might be able to imagine what it would feel like to lose my 8-year-old daughter.  Might.  Because the instant my mind begins to grasp just one millisecond of what has to be the worst pain and torture on Earth, a planetary vacuum of the soul shuts down all systems.  I'm physically reeling, crying for others, "I can't even imagine!"  It is so crushing, our minds will not even allow us to imagine it.
When the Tsumani hit the coast of the Indian Ocean in 2004, I had only been a mom for 4 months.  I had hardly begun to grasp the gravity of life given and life lost.  My husband and I listened to an NPR interview with John Piper. He was calling on God's mercy, and exhorting all human beings to do the same.  I respected his perspective, but I couldn't quite connect the dots between mass destruction and repentance.
I understand now.
The answer is in the imagination.  That moment when your soul dry heaves at the picture of your worst possible grief?  It's the moment right after that. In that moment I feel the weight of what I've been given, Who has given it, and Who can take it away.  In that moment I am weeping, repenting, and pleading for mercy.  Because I believe He is sovereign, all knowing, and all powerful, I am literally at His mercy.  He owes me nothing.  I owe Him my life.  He is always good and just, whether His plans make me happy or turn my life into a black hole.  I am at His mercy, and what a wretched sinner am I!
Oh, but in His mercy...In His mercy is where we find ourselves.  He has sealed me in His love for all eternity.  He has promised that nothing can separate me from His love.  I cry thank you, thank you, thank you, and plead daily that He protect our family and not allow tragedy in.  But the hardest truth of all is that I believe He is my all loving Father, no matter how much pain He might allow me to feel.  That is a statement of faith I weakly hope can be refined by lesser fires than we have discussed here.

Into Antiquity

On Thanksgiving, B.daddy and I enjoyed our tenth anniversary.  Ten seems to be a big deal, so we did some actual celebrating.  I don't need much more than that to plan a weekend away!  However, I think year eight deserved the celebration, because pulling through year seven was a miracle.  And I do not use that word lightly.  Maybe I'll write on that one of these days.

I found a cozy cabin on Pawtuckaway Lake--love that name!  Grammie and Poppy came up for the weekend.  The kids loved spending time with them!  Since we lived with them for eight months in Arkansas, I think this was an especially sweet reunion.

Our mission was simple: shop Antique Alley and enjoy every minute of downtime.  I packed a bunch of food I'd made ahead of time, so we only had to eat out once.  I actually loved eating in.  Going out to eat has been one of those little treats I love to indulge in.  But eating out for every meal over three days can be a bit much.  And I feel it adds anxiety when we're in a phase of life where we should be ever careful with our resources.  It was so relaxing to head for the cabin after a day full of walking and shopping and blustery winds.  We'd crank the fire up and enjoy the quiet of being the only two souls in our tiny world.

We got to see some really cool stuff on Antique Alley.  Some shops were more like museums with "true" antiques costing hundreds and thousands of dollars.  It was fun to speculate as to the purpose of some of these odd items.  Most shops were more approachable with good stuff at reasonable prices.  A few barns were full of junk--the buildings themselves were more interesting.

Here are some of the fun things we saw...

How cool would this marble table be in my kitchen?  Perfect for pastries!

It weighs, like, a TON!

With the marble to the right of my stove, I'd put this puppy on the left.  How beautiful it is!

On our dinner out, being silly, drinking yummy Irish coffee.

It was soooooo good!  *The Barley House in Concord, NH--everything was delicious!*

One of those funny things you see antiquing.  A little lady's tricycle.

Mustache cup.  Awesome.  Wanted to get it for J. Baylor, since he always has a mustache and he's always drinking coffee. :)

Thought this was fun--it's like a bachelor skillet.  Perfect for preparing a fully fried meal for one.

Alas.  I have expensive taste.  Wanted these bowls SO bad, but the whole set was just too much.  Another day....

These mugs are just like the ones I would drink out of at Josh and Meghan's every Sunday.  Made me miss her so!

In the end, we got a few small things.  A plate and bowl for my mismatched china, old books for the kids, an iron sconce, and a whole lot of ideas for the future!

Here's an antique we got for free.  (Well, considering how much we paid for this house, maybe it wasn't so free.)  B.daddy found this ladder in our attic.  He cleaned it up, cut it down a smidge, and now we have a blanket rack in our living room.