I left a load of wet laundry in the washing machine for too long last week.  It soured and each piece of clothing had that awful stinky-feet smell.  As this happens to me quite a bit, I’ve developed a method I call “my usual:”  I rewash the clothes on the hot cycle, add another dose of detergent, a half cup of vinegar, and some fabric softener for good measure.  It always works, and did just that for every garment but one: my blue shirt with the subtle flowers and vines on the front.

     That shirt continued to wreak as it dried on a hanger over the bath tub.  I washed it over and over again, ramping up the recipe, doubling the detergent, vinegar and fabric softener.  Four laundry cycles and days later, I almost gave up.  I just couldn’t understand why everything else smelled like “Tide Mountain Fresh” after one rewash, and this darned shirt smelled like sweaty old sneakers no matter what I did.

     A few months ago, Jocelyn let out a cry from her bedroom upstairs.  Zack’s immediate response was, “I’ve got this!” as he went bounding up the stairs to help his little sister.  He said it with such confidence and conviction that I didn’t doubt for a second that he could handle whatever the situation was when he got to her.  It was a pretty amazing experience to see my ten-year-old son step up without being asked.  It was an even greater experience for me to let go of my control issues and let Zack respond, and to trust that He’d do just fine.

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     I’m the queen of New Year Resolutions.  Every time January rolls around, I create a new list of goals.  I even break the list down into categories (spiritual, physical, financial, etc.), hoping to improve every aspect of my life.  I’m also pretty disciplined right out of the gate, motivated by the fact that the new year is a clean slate, a new chance to reinvent myself to the “new and improved” me.  But come February or March, I’ve misplaced the list, and the motivation.  Every year I return to the old vice-filled me.

     I am an old mama.  I had my last child at forty-four years of age.  That pregnancy nearly did me in (there’s a reason why we are supposed to have babies in our twenties).  Although she is completely worth it, since her birth I have been experiencing one medical issue after another.  Each one has taken its toll on my body, and on my psyche.  I’ve learned the hard way that I can’t eat processed foods, stay up until midnight, and consider housework my only work-out regime.  The result of living like that is I don’t have the energy to play “chase” with my kids, I have limited patience because I always feel like crap, and worst of all, I am now a borderline diabetic.

     Mason got a Rubik’s Cube for Christmas.  Within minutes, he shuffled the colors, and has been frustrated trying to solve it since.  Zack said that there was a boy named Patrick in his fifth grade class who “claimed” he could solve the Rubik’s Cube.  So Mason had Zack take it to school the other day for Patrick’s help.

     Not only did Zack get off the bus that afternoon with the cube completely solved, but Patrick had taught Zack a series of moves that would shuffle the colors into a pattern, and then reshuffle them back to the solid colored sides again.  Mason was so excited, he couldn’t wait until we got home.  He grabbed the cube in the car and began shuffling.  But in his enthusiasm, he got the series of moves wrong and was unable to get it back to the solid colored sides again.  To say he got upset is an understatement.

     As we walked up the stairs from the garage, Mason fiercely stomped out his frustration.  When we got into the kitchen, he kicked his backpack and snow bag as he went from frustrated to downright angry.  I had him go sit in the living room to cool off while I figured out how to handle the situation.

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     The tradition of giving gifts on Christmas began with the three Wisemen, centuries ago…

     The Magi traveled far and wide, guided by a single star and their faith that God would lead them to the One who would bring grace and light to the world.  They gathered together the most precious elements of their day:  gold, frankincense, and myrrh, gifts worthy of a king.  They wanted to honor Jesus by humbling themselves before Him, just like Jesus would ultimately humble Himself by giving us the greatest gift: the gift of His own life.

     As we prepare to exchange presents this Christmas season, we should ask ourselves a few questions:  Have we allowed God to guide us to that place within people that allows them to bring grace and light into our worlds?  Have we gathered together the most precious elements of our day: kindness, patience, loyalty and love, gifts of the heart, the only gifts we could ever truly possess and give that are worthy of a king?  Do we honor those we love and serve by humbling ourselves before them, humbled by the fact that God has created kings in all of us, if we would only believe?

     Mason came home from school last Thursday with a candy cane.  When I asked him where he got it, he said that a classmate had put it in his stocking.  When I asked him “what stocking?” he explained that his third grade teacher had hung up stockings for all the kids in his class.  I guess the idea was to inspire the students to do nice things for each other by leaving small tokens in each others stockings.  I don’t know when she hung them up, but that was the first that I was hearing about it.

     Not one to keep much candy on hand, I did happen to have a bag full of treats for the gingerbread houses we were going to decorate together.  I was thrilled to go to it and count out 21 individually wrapped peppermints for Mason to put in his backpack to put in the stockings the next day.  I handed them to him smug with pride.  I felt like I finally had it together and was the prepared and equipped mom I have always wanted to be.

     I have two boys, so I have been living in action figure superhero world for quite a while now.  What this world has taught me is that although all superheroes are different, they all have one thing in common: they all possess a superpower – something that they were either born with, discovered after a spider bite, or developed over time by sheer will and persistence.  Once their superpower is refined, there’s usually no way to defeat them; the superhero always end up the victor in whatever the  battle or calamity of the day is.

     Our church has been blessed with an amazing priest named Father Brian.  He gives sermons week after week that not only rivet me, but rivet my kids!  With each sermon, he uses a prop, some concrete item that further illustrates whatever point he is trying to make that day.  Once he used a delicate sweater to explain that we can’t shrink in the face of insults or mistakes we make.  Instead, we need to have enough confidence in ourselves that we stay strong like the sturdy shirt he hung beside the delicate sweater.

     My husband and I had a wedding last weekend, two hours away in Maine.  My husband’s cousin, MaryAnn, was incredibly generous and offered to take our three kids to her house for the whole weekend so that we could get a hotel room!  What a gift!

     When I checked in with MaryAnn on Saturday to see how the first night went, she said that the only bump in the road was that she had forgotten to put a diaper on Jocelyn at bed time.  My little four year old is not potty-trained through the night yet.

     My first reaction was that I felt terrible that MaryAnn had been woken up in the middle of the night to have to deal with the outcome of that.  But she reassured me that that wasn’t the case.  All three kids had slept in the same room.  So Jocelyn had woken up Zack instead.  And bless his little heart, my ten year old helped his little sister address the situation all by himself, letting everyone else sleep!  My heart was bursting with pride!