I'll be home for Christmas...if only in my dreams. Bing's version is still the best and the sappy song gets me every time it plays. 
When my travel plans were thwarted, I picked up the pieces of my broken heart and asked God to make a way for me to be in my own home, if even for a couple of days. He did not disappoint. 
It took some creativity and resourcefulness since I have open walls, no water heater and little kitchen. 
I just wanted my home. I packed up my beautiful wreath from the preschool department, my hilarious Santa from the Rogers and paper goods and baby wipes.  (Yes, a girl still has to take some sort of a bath.) I bought a butterfly chair and stool from the local sporting goods store and some comfort food.

Now I'm not kidding myself, Christmas alone in a drafty, dirty structure is hard. Ask Mary; her Christmas nursery was similar. 

But if I've learned anything these last few years, it's to embrace the hard. Move through it. Let it teach you.
Are you asking the obvious; Why would you subject yourself to the loneliness of this kind of Christmas?
A thousand times I asked the same and a lot of other questions as well. God, why do hurting people have to hurt others? Hasn't there been enough loss? Should I move?  and even, Should I remarry?!?
Truth be told, I turned down a host of invitations to share in friends' family Christmases, but I knew I'd be even lonelier, missing my people, my grand babies.

I entered this crazy idea knowing one huge truth: We meet Jesus in the loneliest places. 

The entire advent season I came to Bethlehem to see and I knew I most likely would find a lot of Jesus on this most unusual Christmas Day.

He did not disappoint me. He wrote His NAME all over his birthday. He provided memories of a home filled with His love, the kindness of a Starbuck's employee when I realized I forgot the coffee, the solace of the Scriptures.  Sometimes, He's awfully hard to find in the flurry of holiday. Oh, but in the still...

I've lived long enough to realize Christmas plans can come crushing down...unexpected illness...unexpected loss...unexpected weather, so I don't bank my joy on one day anymore. 

Christmas joy is that hidden gift mistakenly left under the tree. Waiting to be unwrapped the day after and after and after. Waiting in the hard...waiting for a home.

Come, thou long expected Jesus,
born to set thy people free;
from our fears and sins release us,
let us find our rest in thee.
Israel's strength and consolation,
hope of all the earth thou art;
dear desire of every nation,
joy of every longing heart.

Charles Wesley

I remember it well. My friend and former pastor sat amid piles of wrapping paper on a beautiful Christmas morning. Christmas fell on Sunday that year and we postponed our normal routine to gather at Westbury Baptist Church. 
I paraphrase Dick's question to the congregation that morning—so what do we have left when all of the presents have been opened? 
Fast forward to this December...
There are no trappings; there are no walls. Hurricane Harvey swept away the likeliness of a familiar Christmas for many of us.  Other storms have cast a shadow over our celebrations; illness, death, brokenness shatter our Hallmark holiday.
We miss our mantels filled with shiny balls and evergreen, our stockings hung in a tidy row. Our trees no longer stand in the corner, decked with ornaments collected over a lifetime. There sits an empty seat at the table.

The premise of Dick's question still stands regardless of the circumstances.

What remains?

What cradles our souls when all seems lost?

What kindles joy when dreams never become reality?

What remains?

An infant king...a guiding star...hope found in a feeding trough and so many more gifts that lay ready to be unwrapped.  

Come to Bethlehem and see

 Replace the mountains of gift wrap for simple swaddling cloth

Like Simeon of old, let's embrace promise fulfilled

You may have your merry little Christmas, but the manger offers so much more...lasting hope and healing.

Oh, won't you come and see?

Abandon the lists and rest in His presence. This little Babe who journeyed to the Cross will not rob your joy or leave you exhausted. He promises to carry you through the loss and loneliness of this season. 

Oh, won't you come and see?

Come to Bethlehem and see...

Juxtaposition...
Small pile of Christmas cards neatly stacked for the postman... table cluttered with the remaining. Trees decorated in winter bliss while my kitchen looks like it's been hit by a spring tornado. Christmas gift list tackled while the Gospel of Luke remains unruffled.
Chaos...
This year's Christmas looks nothing like the previous. Knowing that I would be celebrating solo, I focused on nothing but Jesus, but this year, filled with family and friends, I've slipped back into the temptation of should.  I should send a Hallmark to everyone, I should have wrapped the very last present weeks ago with Pinterest execution, my house and front yard should invite friend and stranger alike with twinkling lights and wafts of cookies baking in both ovens. 
Failure...
The joy I felt last year is replaced with tension and guilt, emptiness and longing. 
I've failed; I can't serve two masters: the Christmas of expectation and the Christmas found in a feeding trough.
I hope I've learned my lesson, even if only a few advent days remain.
I'm packing up should, unwrapping linger.
Linger...
Sit a long spell with Jesus who shines throughout the Holy Scripture, write that long letter to my late husband's frail aunt, pray for the friend who can't call her Christmas merry, share the story of great rescue with a lost soul.
Linger with one Master.

It just so happens, I write this reminder to myself on the winter solstice, the very day of the year with the fewest hours of sunlight. Light increases with each day forward. That's my desire for the rest of the season.
May the Son increase.

 “I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will not walk in darkness, but will have the light of life.” John 8:12 ESV

On the eve of Rob's third year in Heaven, I've been thinking about how much he loved Christmas music. How fitting that tomorrow my church will be filled with carols from young and old. Rob accompanied the littlest voices to some of the finest soloists I know. Our home was filled with the wonderful sound of his piano throughout December and he made sure the students took time to carol for nursing home residents and staff. He'd drag an old piano or keyboard to each wing to make sure the kids were accompanied. I was in charge of making sure he remembered his readers, but really, he knew them all by heart. I don't know if he is playing an instrument (I hope so!) but I know he's singing with the choirs of angels, singing in exultation! Make a joyful noise, my love.

Rob's Tree

We gathered to say our goodbyes to Rob two years ago today.  Our dear friend graciously offered the most beautiful music, balm for our bleeding hearts.

Lindsay asked her to play her favorite Christmas carol: 

Lo, How a Rose E'er Blooming,

an ancient German hymn.

I remember it as if it was yesterday.

I love the lyrics, especially two of the unfamiliar verses:

This Flower, whose fragrance tender with sweetness fills the air,

Dispels with glorious splendor the darkness everywhere;

True Man, yet very God, from sin and death He saves us,

And lightens every load.

O Savior, Child of Mary, who felt our human woe,

O Savior, King of glory, who dost our weakness know;

Bring us at length we pray, to the bright courts of Heaven,

And to the endless day!

Baylor at Christmas

Rob and I loved this performance from the Christmas at Baylor DVD.

Pause for a few moments and enjoy this beautiful 16th century treasure.

Keeping it simple

It's all about the Babe

Infant holy, infant lowly, For His bed a cattle stall;

Oxen lowing, little knowing Christ the child is Lord of all.

Swiftly winging, angels singing, Bells are ringing, tidings bringing:

Christ the child is Lord of all! Christ the child is Lord of all!

Flocks were sleeping, shepherds keeping Vigil till the morning new

Saw the glory, heard the story, Tidings of a Gospel true.

Thus rejoicing, free from sorrow, Praised voicing, greet the morrow:

Christ the child was born for you! Christ the child was born for you!

It's here!!!

We can start advent now!

Dave and Jess are two of the most wonderful people in the world. 

They have ministered to me through their friendship and gifted music in some of my darkest times. Their music always makes me look up...to a great and marvelous God.

Unto Us (Isaiah 9)
Dave and Jess Ray

Let the celebration begin!

iTunes: http://bit.ly/1unto-us
Amazon:​http://bit.ly/unto-us

I fall apart in the dairy section. Tears spill over the screen as I interrupt my phone call to you. Habits are hard to break...unlike my heart.
No numbness this late December; the pain of missing you this second Christmas stings harder!
There are merry moments...they just don't last long. I miss everything about you and our Christmases together. 
Little things...you telling me not to look in the closet, asking me for scotch tape from back in the bedroom, sitting under the tree passing out packages, watching your face glow by candlelight at church, crawling in bed with you after filling stockings.

 I gladly gather the sweet memories, but why do they have to hurt so much? 
I fight to see light in this darkest of Decembers, knowing no one can tell me how to sing this winter song.  

The Village

Rob's gift to me...

It started with this single church

and grew and grew until we considered new real estate to house it all.

We all chuckled; the family knew this was really Rob's collection. He could name the churches in order of their release, their retirement dates, and the year I received each piece.  When he ran out of steeples and naves to buy, he turned to Old London shops and cottages.  I remember his disappointment when I had to gently let him down...

"No more! There's no more room in the inn!"

 He loved his slice of Merry Old England, looking forward to the great reveal each December.

I wish I'd been a bit more enthusiastic about unpacking, dusting, running extension cords. 

I remember one year when we dragged a lawyer's bookcase home to encase the half I refused to repack. To Rob's delight...everlasting Dickens!

It's been a few years since there has been a big package under the tree and a gleam in his eye.

Oh, I miss that gleam in his eye.

Every piece of Rob's village has found it's proper place this year.  There's no more complaining about hauling down boxes and finding room for each item; Rob's village not only lights up the house, but also my heart with a host of beautiful Christmas memories.

Thirty days of naming our gifts... gratitude challenge to my 11th grade girls.  Record three gifts each day and be prepared for an amazing advent season. 
I awoke this morning, this first day of December, aware that beginning steps to the manger rival final ones to my husband's grave.

 Funny how last week I was flowing with thanksgiving and this morning I struggle with my own gratitude assignment. 
Early last December, I was thanking God for...

one more morning

 three unexpected kisses from my precious husband

catching Rob's occasional smiles, holding his warm hands and swabbing his mouth with Blue Bell

Joyous gifts for me this morning!

Today, I limp to the grave, reliving the final days of Rob's life on Earth. I fight to keep my eyes on my Savior's earliest days as God/Child. Can these two journeys intertwine into something beautiful? 

Rejoice...re-joy

Choose joy again and again

Offer thanksgiving in all circumstances

Not always for the circumstance, but in the circumstance

Eucharisteo

See the charis and the chara in the giving of thanks?

Naming the gifts unwraps the grace and affords JOY

Today, I name....

 Jeff Webdell 

on his birthday

My son in law who makes me chocolate chip pancakes, leaves a cup of warm coffee for me, takes care of my girls, and has become one of my best friends

Austin Tucker

a very tall college student who looks for me when he is home and reminds me of my husband's ministry

Freezing nights on the Plaza

Many nights strolling Kansas City streets under an explosion of colorful lights...the memory of window shopping for the perfect promise ring

The players chosen, no auditions needed.  Creation awaiting the Plan to unfold.
 Mary and Joseph, devoted though poor, headed for Bethlehem with little to spare. The counting of citizens, the return to a home, the promise of old  fulfilled by the LORD. A burden of taxes from a tyrant He used, to turn great oppression into ultimate good.
 Young nurturers of Deity stood silent that night and Mary pondered with wonder at the sight of her child. Only the Director knew for sure how the babe in the trough would restore all who loved Him  again to Himself.
Supporting characters provided; elements of surprise supplied. The angels all aglow worshiped the infant with gladness, but their chorus so splendid caused lonely shepherds to quake. Creation had commenced its celebration with zeal; even the stars sang their praises for the birth of the Child.

 Lowly caretakers of sheep played their part in the dark; carefully selected to first come and adore the small  King.  Discarded, shabby field crew felt at home in the barn; perhaps, the same way He calls each of us home.
The faithful, the poor, the forgotten chosen, but the Plan could not end without an invitation to all.
God cast some wise seekers, not accustomed to the Law, though they knew that a ruler would rise from His children. They followed a Star that took them afar until it reached a small house where the family called home. Were the Magi confused at the child's meek surroundings as they laid down their props or did they know without question they were offering gifts to the One?
First act completed; the audience all present.
The curtain reopens with a finale so grand, a work of redemption revealed for us all.