Behind.

"What lies behind us
and what lies before us
are tiny matters
compared to what lies within us."
-Ralph Waldo Emerson

I've said it before, and it's still the truth: it's been a rough year.

But it hasn't been all bad.

I have proof:

January: Three Beautiful Years, where I describe A Very Rushian Anniversary.

February: A Love Letter To Spring, pretty much a self-explanatory title.

March: For Him, On A Tuesday, an attempt to express my love.

April: Welcome To Our Easter, a photojournal featuring the Hall family, who graciously adopt us for the holidays.

May: Ode To Scruffy, an homage to the tiniest member of the Rush Family.

June: 6:23 am, ok so not exactly a super happy post, but I've always loved that picture.

July: Snooze, an expression of what's important in life [hint: it's not actually the sleep].

August: Always In Every Way, wherein I basically describe how I felt for much of 2009.

September: Returning, a somewhat poetic offering.

October: A New Beginning, starting to feel like I'm onto something.

November: Happy Halloween, pretty much my favorite Halloween costume of all time.

December: For Larrien, a true story.

Here's what I've learned in 2009, some of which specifically pertains to this blog:

1. I cannot bring myself to type Mr. Handsome anymore. Not that he's any less handsome, but that I'm getting cavities from all the sticky sweetness.

1a. I am, however, apparently still ok with really lame puns and jokes. (I blame the Tiscareno blood coursing through my veins.)

2. More than wanting to post every day during this season of my life, I want to be writing. So although it may be less frequent, hopefully my posting will be more worthwhile(?).

This is up for debate.

3. 2010 is going to be a good year.

The Night Before Christmas.

*picture courtesy of Debbie Hall's gorgeous tree, Christmas 2008*

I can't tell you enough how serious I am.

You must go get Steven Curtis Chapman's song The Night Before Christmas NOW.

It is beautiful - and it has been making me weep all morning.

Maybe because we have experienced the true joy of giving this season, and the wonder and magic it brings.

Maybe because we've been having slumber parties next to our enchanting Christmas tree, because I just can't bear to tear myself away from it's warm glow each night.

Maybe because we've chosen to decorate our home with handmade treasures - specifically paper snowflakes (which I will write more about this weekend after we've hung them - pictures coming), and they make our home sparkle with love.

But I suspect it's really because - possibly more this year than any other year before - I feel the weight of what it means when I hear that God saw us, struggling in our despair and in the mess we'd made of this world, and in response, He put on humanity and came into our world as One of us. That we might be saved.

That we might not be left alone.

Emmanuel - God with us.

[He really is.]

The Night Before Christmas
by Steven Curtis Chapman

It was the night before Christmas
And all through the world
Everything looked like business as usual
Shepherds sat on a hillside
Looking up at the stars
While the world fell asleep
Unaware just how deep
Was the darkness the night before Christmas

And the night before Christmas
It seemed to be just a night
But the wind blew like something was coming
And like children with secrets
That they're bursting to tell
The cedars danced in the breeze
While all of nature it seemed
Held its breath on the night before Christmas

And hope
Hope long awaited
The hope of the ages
Would break with the dawn
And the song
That all of creation
Was anticipating
Would start
With a baby's first cry

And on the night before Christmas
Mary laid down to rest
While Joseph, he paced the floor praying
And in an everyday stable
In an everyday town
In the hours to come
God would wrap Himself up
And come down from heaven
And the world would forever be changed
After the night before Christmas

For Larrien.

Mr. Handsome ran through 27 degree, windy, chilled nighttime air.

There were no coats. Larrien needed a coat. Mr. Handsome thought another store in the shopping center might have one, and so he braved the cold. He was right. A $50 coat, size Small - Little Boy 6 - marked down to $19.99. Puffy, black, and very warm.

Perfect.

On his way back to me, he ran in to two more stores, checking for the best price on the highest quality shoes he could find.

Once we were reunited, we navigated the clothing section together, then moved on to the main event: toys. Desperately, Mr. Handsome searched in vain for Hot Wheels Crashers and a Wild Time Fidgets (Google would prove useless in the search for what in heaven's name a Wild Time Fidget even is). Quickly, I said we should move on. Mr. Handsome was insistent, determined.

"He has 2 specific things on his list. Only 2. I want to find them."

And so we asked a nice lady in the little boy toy aisle if she knew what a Wild Time Fidget was. She smiled apologetically - she was at a loss, too. Mr. Handsome circled the toy aisles at least 10 times, scanning with precision every item on each shelf.

They weren't there.

But he did pick out a set of awesome action figures (the request that had tugged at my heart in the first place), a dinosaur book - complete with accompanying dinosaur stickers, a polar bear spelling game from the makers of Cranium, a set of Legos that make 3 different types of trucks, a small room-size basketball hoop and basketball (Mr. Handsome's personal addition), and an entire new wardrobe of clothes. Including a very sleek pair of black sneakers that any 6-year old boy would think are super cool.

And the coat.

We were finished.

This morning at the office, I sat down to wrap the gifts, then suddenly realized I'd left my scissors and tape at my desk. For just a moment, I ran to grab them. When I came back, these sat on the table.

I was speechless. Then I very nearly cried.

I still have no idea where they came from.

Larrien will have every single thing he asked for this Christmas - which wasn't even very much to begin with - and a whole heap of extra things, at that.

And me? I fell more in love with my precious, tender Mr. Handsome.

There's Christmas Magic in the air.

Can you feel it?

Getting Ready.

*Taken with love by Jillian whilst getting ready for The Nutcracker.*

For so many things.

For the work day to end. For my husband to hug me and kiss me when I get home. For an evening snuggled up by our Christmas tree in our cozy home together.

For Christmas. For my Year of Grace.

For what comes next.

My heart is full today. Despite sending my precious Jillian off with a kiss and a tear yesterday [and although I still miss her fiercely], today I feel filled with light and wonder and joy and hope. It's a pleasant response to my seasonal yearning for that elusive abstract I call The Christmas Spirit.

Not because I have big plans for Christmas shopping. (I don't.) Not because circumstances have suddenly made a miraculous turn for the better for us. (They haven't.) Not even because it's Christmastime. (Well ok maybe a little bit because it's Christmastime.)

But because life is a gift, it's precious - and it's happening now.

Let's live it, shall we?

Wishing you and yours all the
light, wonder, joy, and hope
you can wrap your hearts around
this Christmas season.

*Our Christmas Tree, next to which I will soon snuggle with my husband.*

The Rest of the Story.

Be inspired.

[And if you missed the first part, start here.]

You Can Hear the Strings.

I want to be a woman of grace.

This past Saturday afternoon, I excitedly switched on a Christmas music mix on the bathroom sound system my husband bought me, slipped into a piping hot shower, and began my own personal ritual of preparation for our big night out. Most women have one of these, I'm sure: beloved traditions of primping and readying for a special evening. For this night, my Date had bought me gorgeous sparkly earrings and a classy little black dress. The occasion? My company Christmas Party. Torture for my poor man, heaven for me. Although, let's be honest here: the event itself wasn't the reason for my euphoric feelings. The excuse to indulge in my sacred ritual and feel like a princess for a night - that was the real treat.

The evening was everything I expected it to be: lovely, amusing, funny, and awkward. It also held a few unexpected surprises, not the least of which was a slow dance with my ever patient and loving husband. All in all, it was a beautiful, unforgettable night I'll cherish for a long time to come.

It's easy to confuse beauty with grace.

You would think that the next day, both my husband and I would bask in my afterglow from the sublime, enchanted evening I had enjoyed the night before. Sadly, this was not so. For whatever reason, I wasn't a very nice person yesterday. Forget any beauty I'd been able to polish up on Saturday night - I was ugly on Sunday. And I was confronted with some painful, glaring truths: I am unforgiving, unkind, and unloving. When I first wrote that sentence, I wrote, "I can be," which I then changed to the slightly more truthful, "I am sometimes," until I finally realized the humbling reality - the statement deserves no qualifiers. Those unsavory qualities coexist in my heart along with the other more pleasant traits. But they're there. And they've been making more public appearances than I'm comfortable with lately.

This has been a tough year. We've faced a lot of hurt, a lot of disappointment, grief, and anxiousness. I'm exhausted. And I find myself feeling panicked and frustrated and reactionary in stressful situations lately, and I'm ashamed of myself. It doesn't matter how perfectly I apply my eye makeup if there's no light shining through those eyes.

I'm tired of being afraid that things aren't going to work out for us. I'm tired of feeling envious of other people's lives and devaluing my own. I'm tired of being an unforgiving person. I'm tired of being unkind to the man I love with all my heart, and treating him in disgraceful ways I'd never dream of treating anyone else - just because I know he won't leave. [He, the one who loves me most and best.] I'm tired of living without grace - and it doesn't matter how pleasingly I adorn my outward appearance, my spirit needs some extra attention.

Through a flood of tears, the swallowing of countless lumps in my throat, and the feeling of an actual hurt in my heart - I have just finished 1/2 of Stephanie Nielson's story of hope, grace, and the triumph of life. (The second half is coming next Sunday, December 13, 2009 - don't miss it.) How can I complain about my circumstances when I see her courage and her stubborn fight and will to continue to live an unbelievably painful and difficult life? Before the events that forever altered her life, she lived with a delicate balance of beauty and grace, as documented on her charming blog. And now, after traveling to hell and back, she absolutely breathes beauty and grace - it radiates from within her in everything she says, does, and is.

And here I am, unable to find a way to express true beauty and grace in my own life. At least not as consistently as I would (and should) require of myself.

And so, as I prepare to bid farewell to 2009 and look forward to the beginning of a new decade, I'm going to forgo my embarrassingly arrogant Resolve of last year and actually make a resolution: 2010 will be my Year of Grace. I will be more patient, less selfish, more forgiving, less hurtful. Kinder, gentler, and much more loving.

With the ultimate goal being that my Year of Grace turns into a Lifetime.

Charm is deceitful and beauty is passing,

But a woman who fears the LORD,
she shall be praised.
Proverbs 31:30

*Christmas Party: 2009*
(the best shot we were able to get - I apologize for the blur.)