The holidays have wreaked near havoc on our already over-extended lives. First, Thanksgiving. Hours researching recipes for the PERFECT bird. For the first time, we hosted Ryan's family here at our house, and to be honest, all I had to shoot for was avoiding the annual call to the fire department. The turkey went in the oven around 9:30 a.m. with a shout out to the kids, "Pray for the BIRD!" The Lord does still answer prayer.
Christmas is three days away, and this entire month, we've been enjoying our traditional Advent readings, though it's never as picturesque as you imagine it will be. We're either both juggling babies on our laps, or one of us has disappeared upstairs for the bedtime routine of diapers and bottles. No matter the distractions, the kids look forward to reading every day. Even Camille, notorious for her inattention during family Bible reading, has virtually memorized every page, that is, with the exception of her answer to Ryan's question tonight. "To whom was Mary betrothed?" "I know!" Camille's hand shoots up. "The ANGEL!"
I'm hoping for some quiet moments in the days to come: to retreat from the relentless fatigue and anxiety of all there is to do to prepare for Christmas and to respond to the humility and grace of the Christmas story.