I got some mention-worthy gifts at this year's end. I'm a happy girl to be taking these things along with me into 2017. Here are a few things I'm excited about. 

•  I got a new Giving Key necklace. If you don't know about Giving Keys, they're actual keys engraved with a word that signifies a spiritual virtue. This is my second Giving Key on account of my giving the first one away. (That's what you're supposed to do). You attempt to better live out "your key word", and then you give the key to someone else. This time my key says Peace. This one will be a toughy as I'm a worry wart. I also frequently describe my brain as Richard Scarry's "Busytown" (Even though I cease productivity, my brain hardly ever rests).  Peace like a river hardly ever "attendeths my way". 

• 

   

•  I may have this peace necklace for a while. When you see me, say a little prayer for me that I'll better spend my time with The Prince of Peace -allowing him to settle my insides. 

And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. Philippians 4:7

• I got dinner pants (jeans) for my birthday.  That's what I call them anyway (besides calling them friend). They're really for after dinner. I have a problem with all of my other pants in the period that directly follows any time I eat. The place where the button fastens starts to protrude like a sharp-shaped outie. It's neither attractive or comfortable. My (after) dinner pants skip the button altogether. They're nice and stretchy and keep my stomach looking slightly more flat. I can eat dinner without having to change into pajama pants afterward (or else my workout pants that are hardly familiar with exercise). 

• I also got a new email address that will help us be more easily connected. Jason wrapped up this beautiful chalkboard art done by Janaye at Chalk This Way to present the gift.  When I opened it, I was misty-eyed at its beauty before I realized the significance of the gift he had given me. My posts are easier to manage and it's also now easier for readers to subscribe to God's Girlies. (Just look below). 

• Oh yeah, the Chimp, my new friend... Mailchimp is the name of the new service that will make emailing and subscribing a cinch for you and I both. In just the past two days I gained dozens of new subscribers, something I've struggled to do in the past four and a half years. Have I ever mentioned that Jason is my favorite person? 

• This website has a fresh face too.  Check out Gabbing to His Glory. It's updated. I have a new family picture where the kids'smiles are without baby teeth (Kind of sad, but I'm pretty proud of how they're growing). 

For those of you who have subscribed in the past, you will be automatically receive posts through Mailchimp now. The old email service will still also send you posts until you unsubscribe.  You'll just have to click on the post that looks like this and hit the highlighted blue unsubscribe button. It will send you a confirmation email. Then you'll be set. 

The one you keep (sent through Mailchimp) will look like this. 

Bring on 2017. Comfort, style and convenience are coming with me. 

If you've never subscribed and want to, here you go...

Last year I got in on one of those sweet “Pay it forward” chains where I payed for the coffee for the people in the car behind me. That kind of thing makes me smile, just as does participating in Operation Christmas Child, The Angel Tree and other giving opportunities do.

There's no time we're better about spreading a little happiness than Christmas.

All this giving reminds me of a man whose story takes place on the rooftop. His goal? He wanted to get into the house below. Contrary to what you might be thinking, he wasn't wearing a red suit and I highly doubt there was ho ho ho-ing.

But you know the story. It goes like this.

Luke 5:17 One day Jesus was teaching, and Pharisees and teachers of the law were sitting there. They had come from every village of Galilee and from Judea and Jerusalem. And the power of the Lord was with Jesus to heal the sick. 18 Some men came carrying a paralyzed man on a mat and tried to take him into the house to lay him before Jesus. 19 When they could not find a way to do this because of the crowd, they went up on the roof and lowered him on his mat through the tiles into the middle of the crowd, right in front of Jesus.

20 When Jesus saw their faith, he said, “Friend, your sins are forgiven.”

Then Jesus told the man to get up, take his mat and walk. This man was two kinds of healed. His body was made physically well, and more importantly, his sins were forgiven

It’s important to to acknowledge that this guy had good people.

They didn't buy him Starbucks, give him a gift card or bake him a loaf of chocolate bread. (Well maybe they did. If they did, good on them. Gifts are great. I kind of like them.)

They executed a much better giving plan. 

They battled a bustling crowd to get their friend right before Jesus, knowing Jesus was just what he needed.

(When they could not find a way to do this because of the crowd, they went up on the roof and lowered him on his mat through the tiles)

Their persistence led to the physical healing they sought for their friend.

Their faith led to something much greater; the gift of eternal life. (When Jesus saw their faith...)

Three of the rows on the string of lights wrapped around our palm tree out front are already out. They're lacking a proper connection to the light source.

Like other lights, their glow is borrowed and temporary.

Dimming light isn't the only kind of light we're bearers of.

When Jesus spoke again to the people, he said, “I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness, but will have the light of life.” John 8:12

So don't stop at paying for someone’s Starbucks order. Don’t stop at giving gift cards. Or making smiles on Christmas morning.

Our family, friends (and those we haven't met) need more.

God has granted his children a constant and everlasting light source that He intends for us to share. May He grant us (along with it) persistence and the power to always believe.

1. Who needs you to believe (on their behalf)?
2. What friends do you have whose light is dim from loss and heartbreak?
3. What about those who stumble in darkness, not yet knowing The Light?  Will you take them before Jesus?

This little light of mine is connected to something much brighter.

EVERY year I have big plans to get professional pictures made. While visions of sugarplums may be dancing in your heads,  I'm mentally going through all of our closets putting together a suitable outfit plan for the five Burdens.

I start in November; choosing a spot in my mind for the perfect picture; like a Christmas tree farm with a backdrop of a wintry sky or a painted sunset behind a field of tall, lazy dead grass.

I even skim through the Shutterfly and Tiny print advertisements choosing a card; imagining what I'd put on it.

Didn't happen again in 2016; not for a lack of ideas or desire, but a lack of time.

A Christmas card hasn't happened for this family in the past three years.

It isn't because we aren't proud of our family. We are.

Hayden finished welding school this summer and is taking classes to get a degree in Welding Technology. That guy can cook bacon and eggs for an army of men  (and then eat it all himself).

Hallie has become the sweetest mentor for Rylie. She also got her driving permit (but neither she or I are too gung-ho for the driving part.

Rylie got a cell phone this year. Don't give her your number unless you want to be texted ten emojis, daily. She's baking like crazy. She made a little wedding cake for a couple earlier this year and has made cookies, brownies and a lot of mess.

Jason and I had a summer sabbatical that goes down in our book of memories as one of the most enjoyable, most memorable and most rejuvenating summers we've ever had. Thank you, church, for giving us that gift that took years off of our lives, put pep back in our step and grew us in our walk. We love you.

Besides sending a picture of ourselves, this card carries greetings to a whole bunch of people we don't get to see anymore (like much-loved people from our hometown, our church families (and when I say family I do mean family) in Chilton and Trinity and a host of old friends and cousins, aunts and uncles. We miss you and regret that miles and years have created a distance. You're still close to our hearts.

To some of you whom we just met in 2016 (and even some who we've never met in person) we want to say that we're glad God has placed you in our circle. I'm amazed at how God never stops placing new people in our lives to work alongside (or even over social media). Makes me expectant and enthused for 2017.

To others we want to say that we're thankful for you. For those of you who leave your mark on our lives by leaving gumbo at the door or constant encouraging comments on posts, you may not ever know how grateful we are for you (because I'm just about as good with thank you notes as I am Christmas cards). Thank you for those of you who treat us like family and for those of you who pray for us. We're better because of you.

Still bewildered that God uses us and blesses us like he does.

Merry Christmas and a Hopeful New Year!

With all of our love (even if in a slightly lame manner),

The Burdens

John 1:14 The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us. We have seen his glory, the glory of the one and only Son, who came from the Father, full of grace and truth.

In the summer of 2016, my older daughter and I observed a social situation where my younger daughter (who would soon be starting middle school) suffered a small but difficult rejection. Both my older daughter and I, like most growing girls, understand the struggles that life throws. Certain seasons of life seem to try and beat us up. Through our experience, we know that there is hope in the toughest of times and friendship found in the places we never thought to look.

My older daughter, Hallie, and I immediately put our heads together and came up with the idea of a "Book of Letters". We secretly burned up pages in a notebook.  We wrote, giving my younger daughter Rylie  advice on Social Media Etiquette and Hygiene. 

We reached out to her aunts, older cousins, babysitters and former teachers asking them to give her advice or tell her about an experience they had.

We took Rylie out on a special date the week before school started and presented the book to her.  The book was a smashing success in terms of supplying her with perspective, laughter and the confidence that she's not alone. She's still asking us to add to the book, and we are.

We've all three decided that a valuable book like this should be available to all middle school/junior high girls. A year was spent putting together what you know as The Village Girl Handbook. Though geared toward growing girls, its message will resonate with any girl who knows that "Life is hard, BUT GOD..."  

This is the book girls didn't know they needed from the friends they didn't know they had.

 

Our oldest didn't have many close friends in elementary. She was content racking up AR points in Reading at school, and then later at home doing photo shoots with her Pet Shop figures.  She had a whole stash of them and they were her friends. Even though the typical elements of girl drama had began to impose themselves in fourth grade, she was still happy. 

It was in middle school, after finding a few close friends, that she discovered how messy friendship can be. She experienced the backbiting and the sabotage that can go along with it in a time when girls can be so insecure. She learned that sometimes what you consider to be a close friendship, your friend may not value quite as much. 
Having been burned by my own friendships, I went into combat with her. 

• I constantly reminded her of the importance of being trustworthy and kind to everybody. This was good. 
• In protective mode, I sabotaged some relationships that might have been mended by pointing out mistakes that she had made, or her friends had made, highlighting every rocky step. This was hurtful and graceless (I remember a year or two where the communication on her part lessened). 
• I encouraged her to take the safe route; not to trust or tell secrets, reminding her, more than necessary, of the messiness of friendships. Being supremely choosy in friend -making (what may feel like the safest route), is pretty lonely and doesn't remove the possibility for disappointment and rejection. Maybe that was a bad idea. 
• I prayed a specific prayer for her to have good friends; the kind you can trust to keep your secrets and to build you up, the kind who stick around. This was my best idea. 

Had I only prayed and lightened up a little on my strategies besides prayer, I might have saved her from a little loneliness. One can't be sure. 

Time may settle a matter but it doesn't always say how. 

I do know that my years of praying, mixed with a mother's well-intended hit and miss advice, weren't in vain. 

God answered those prayers with a group of girls as quirky as Hallie is. I have the pleasure of hanging out with some of them on Wednesdays before evening youth. 

They sit around our table and laugh obnoxiously loud. They debate everything from the most delicate and heavy topics like sexual assault to the more light-hearted; whether or not Harambe should Rest In Peace. They get loud, but listen to one another. And they respect one another. 

They've reminded me that friendship doesn't necessarily make for an easier growing up. Friendship can be risky. It's about imperfectly being there with each other and for each other through the thick of life. 

Adventures are bigger and better with friends. 

Like clockwork I reached down on the floor beside my bed for the phone, somewhere around five this morning. When I leaned back up, I had that swimmy feeling I get when my ears get full during allergy season. 

Feeling kind of lousy this morning, I made little progress in the areas where I'm already behind; housecleaning, shopping...

And then there were the mixture of events I needed to sort out for tonight. There was the church dinner at five. I remembered that the Christmas Sunday school party at six (that our youngest would be attending) would be at another location. At this same time our older daughter would be enjoying her youth Christmas party. And I had an engagement that I had previously thought would be this past Monday until I chatted with the hostess who reminded me that it was tonight. 

Only the party wasn't at six. It's at 8:15. 

I found that out by knocking on the door approximately two hours and sixteen minutes early. 

I walked back to my car with my head hung (just low enough as to not get nauseous from ear fluid) and I couldn't find my keys. I checked the ignition. I checked my purse. I checked under the seat where I pulled out an old wicker basket, an empty Ziploc container and all the pens that are missing from the house.  I checked the coin trays and frantically dumped my purse, not wanting the hostess to see that I was still parked in the driveway one hour and fifty-five minutes early. 

No luck. 

With no other choice, I got out of my car and turned on the flashlight on my phone. I went back and knocked on the door to let the party planner know I'd lost my mind and my keys (I find it less humiliating to announce my ridiculousness rather than let people discover it for themselves.)

Party planner's husband, whom I just realized I forgot to thank, came out to assist me. I did find my car key in the yard in no time (after looking in the car for twenty minutes). It's a miracle considering it's a single key in a yard full of my favorite leaves (the large-ish kind). 

I'm waiting now for the real party to start. 

Lucky for you, that means I have time to tell you about last Friday's party when I decided that I needed dark stretchy pants to wear with the boots I had on. I took a pair from one of the girl's closets.  They fit. That made me happy. I made my rounds at the party extending greetings and finding out what everybody's Christmas plans were.  

As Jason and I got in the car to leave, I felt a cold spot about the size of a half dollar where my inner thigh was touching the car seat. Perplexed I looked down to find I had a gaping hole in my (daughter's) pants. 

Did I mention I sat on a peanut cluster at church dinner tonight and left a nice dab of chocolate on the seat of my pants? 

I'm having a hard time getting this Christmas thing right. 

And Christmas is the time we most want to do it all right. 

I guess the older (and more in charge) I get I realize just how hard it is to pull off the perfect Christmas. There's the matter of bulging schedules, insufficient funds and dark news. 

There are the thousands of things I can try and get done by (apparently) busting the seam of my pants. Go go go... But I'm so tired. 

Then there are the things I can do little about like the Hatchimal request I found out about from our youngest yesterday when I mentioned them being The Toy to Get -and by that I mean the toy that's near impossible to get). 

I doubt the first Christmas went as planned, well as far as men's plans go. 

In their hearts humans plan their course, but the LORD establishes their steps. Proverbs 16:19

(I'm glad he led me to my keys.)

Here's the thing. 

Christmas is really not so much our party to plan. 

We're attendees and recipients. (Oh come let us adore him.)

Let us be as eager to attend Christ's coming as I've been about this party I've already tried to show up to twice this week. 

Just when you think you've heard everything...

Today I read about a body shaming Santa in North Carolina. After taking a picture with a nine-year-old boy who asked for a drone and an iTouch, the mall-employed Santa gave some unsolicited (and in my opinion unkind) advice, telling the overweight boy to lay off the hamburgers and fries. 

Now folks from the left and right are using popular divisive phrases like snowflake, safe space and body shaming. 

And as always, two camps form. 

You have the camp who blames the mom for her son's weight,  deciding in their limited knowledge that her son couldn't possibly be overweight if she had ensured he exercised properly and received a healthy diet. (I'm sure every member of this camp is as fit as a fiddle.)  There are even those callling for a CPS investigation on mom. 

Many in this same camp belittle the boy not only for his size, but for his openness about his disappointed reaction. 

The other camp is calling for the firing of Santa. An apology given by the Santa to the boy apparently isn't enough. Only knowing that 1,000's of people hate this man would calm many in this camp. They want this unfortunate event to be the ruin of his reputation. 

Especially at Christmas can't we just form a larger third camp where grace informs our words? Cant we speak a little more wisely concerning the experiences we observe personally and through social media? (I know. Sometimes we can't.)  In that case, couldn't we just be a quiet camp? 

As intelligent as we are, none of us know how much to blame this mother (or her son) is for his weight. 

As strong as some of us are, we can't say that those careless words spoken by Santa shouldn't have stung. 

As protective of children (and the insulted) as some of us are, we have to realize when the consequences we call for are a little dramatic. 

• What would be best would be if this boy could walk away from this situation a little more sure that his mom loves and (without vengeance) supports him . 
• Wouldn't it be something if he could be reminded that sometimes people say things they shouldn't and that he should always remember to use his own words carefully as to avoid embarassing or insulting some unsuspecting person? 
• Wouldn't it be dandy if the mom taught her son how to properly accept an apology? 
• Wouldn't it be admirable if the mom didn't invite the media mob in on this story. What if she quietly (with the help of a close support group) spent more energy encouraging him, modeling to her son that you don't need a jeering squad to prove you've been ill-treated. 
• What if adults decided not to perpetuate the false idea that there's always a score to settle? 
• Wouldn't it be something if the boy came out of this experience a little stronger and Santa a little wiser! 
• What if Santa had a chance to go back to his job the next day giving a little more thought to his small talk and advice instead of being forced into resigning from his job? 

But why ask all these questions when it's so much easier to think we have all the answers. 

A gentle tongue is a tree of life, but perverseness in it breaks the spirit. Proverbs 15:4

Tuesday night is TV night in our house. There's not much on television anymore as far as I'm concerned, but Tuesday, if you haven't noticed, has quite the line up. 

I like to fix tacos or something easy,come Tuesday, so that by seven I can have the kitchen cleaned and be sitting in our oversized comfy brown chair. 

First comes The Middle, a show that I'm only a little bit embarrassed to say reminds me of my family.  I'd like to think that I'm Frankie Heck with a little better sense of style. She avoids participating in the PTA, she can't cook (she actually stores a couple of quilts in her oven) and she ardently loves her family; a love that sometimes spills out in the form of mild violence. She's forgetful and not into cutesy; she's too busy.  Frankie attempts to balance "work and all of the household duties" with "making her kids face responsibility and the realities of a cold, cruel world", all while occasionally fitting in a few quiet moments with snacks, her sock feet and the remote control. 

Next up is The American Housewife". 

Katie Otto and her husband have three children just like the Hecks. Katie is a slightly off-color no-nonsense disciplinarian who is very aware of her children's shortcomings (unless someone does her kid wrong at which point she will go to great lengths to defend her  little cherub). In one episode she realizes that her youngest daughter hasn't been invited to a party for someone who she thought was her good friend. Ingenious Katie joins yoga class and gulps down vegan smoothies in order to become friends with the mom of the girl whose birthday is coming, hoping to secure an invitation to the party for her daughter. 

At 8:30 comes a show I found on Netflix this summer. Fresh off the Boat is a sitcom about an Asian-American family who relocated to Orlando in the 90's. I dig the music references and the yellow and white striped wallpaper with vertical rows of ivy in the kitchen that reminds me of my Aunt Sally's house back then. Mom, Jessica Huang, is both frugal and brutal when it comes to caring for her family. And she's unapologetic about it. She keeps on top of the kids' grades and chooses strange ways to make her point like the time she makes her boys eat a gianormous box of generic oat cereal before she'll buy any more cereal from Costco. 

The dads in all three shows are similar in that they're level-headed, devoted to their families  (even if they're not micro managers) and are good loyal men who come home after work, dealing well with their wives who have crazed moments. 

These dads are a far cry from some of the TV dads of the 80's-90's; a decade when many dads were dim witted and seemed like an extra child in the family. Bravo producers, for providing us with dads who play a strong, if sometimes less visible,  role in families. 

So what about these new crazy moms that Tuesday night's entertainment provides? 

I think they're a breath of fresh air. I hardly relate to Mrs. Cosby (The Cosby Show) or Jill Taylor (Home Improvement) who had spotless homes and could discipline their children without ever raising their voice. (Might I mention that their appearance was always impeccable?) Sheesh. 

Here's what I'm learning from Frankie Heck, Katie Otto and Jessica Huang 

• We moms will try anything including vegan smoothies, letting our ponytailed hair down or getting along with that girl we wish our son wasn't dating if it seems best for our family. 
• We get it wrong. A lot! And we'll admit it, pull up the straps of our boots and try at it again. 
• PTA, cooking supper and suffering our children's seemingly unbearable behavior now and then isn't at the top of our list of favorite things to do, but our families are worth the work, even if we throw in some complaining. 
• We love our families (despite our inability to remain calm and collected). Overreaction, crazy schemes and most of our other embarrassing behaviors are weird ingredients in our love. 
• We appreciate our husbands. And (usually after we've messed something up due to impulse or strong emotion) we listen to them. 
• We're ok. There are no perfect families; no problem-free marriages or error-free parenting styles. Glaring errors can be the good kind because they're the kind we can work to fix. 

Thank you ABC for highlighting family, for making me laugh and for the free therapy that reminds me that I'm doing alright even when I'm not doing it all right.