Like the enormous branch out back that fell and crushed my poor lilac bush. The ice storm came (that was before the arctic vortex and heaps of snow), and I guess that big old tree got a little too burdened down. Couldn’t take the stress. Couldn’t take the weight. So down it came.
The rest of our Christmas, well it was mostly the same. A little too much heaviness to bear.
Plenty of decorating and buying and wrapping and baking and carol playing and even praying beforehand, all meant to create the perfect day, but sometimes all the planning in the world will still leave you with a mess.
Sometimes you plan but get it all so wrong.
Sometimes you plan but it’s out of your control.
That ice again, lovely as it was, had it’s wicked way.
Treacherous driving conditions.
Night out with the girls for a chance to laugh and de-stress? Canceled.
Many thousands without heat or power.
Christmas Eve service at church? Canceled, too.
Mum hosting Christmas dinner? Nope. With two days to plan, it’s going to be me.
But there was more . . .
A mix-up of the name-drawing.
A gift for everyone under the tree? Well, not quite.
Keys locked in a running car.
Tired children put to bed on time? Think again.
A tummy bug moving slowly through the house till we all had our turn.
All of us there round the Christmas table, feeling right as rain? No, not that either.
Sometimes you plan but get it all so wrong.
Sometimes you plan but it’s out of your control.
Yet all this, all this we could have easily born with a nervous laugh and with making due. All this we could have born if only a frazzled mix of folks from different parts of the country, different parts of the globe, hadn’t all been tossed together, till from our botched arrangements surfaced pain, sadness, regret from weeks, months, years past.
Like my lilac bushes, it seems we, too, can be frail.
Tender.
Like the flowers. Like the grass.
Tender,
so that when love and fear come together,
like with family and with friends,
we feel an aching in our hearts
and a burden just too much to bear.
Too much to bear alone.
And it all seemed such a sham. The presents and the tree. The music. All the talk of joy and peace.
Because sometimes you plan but it’s out of your control.
And sometimes you plan, but there’s something deeper, something realer, that you missed.
All our shattered plans for Christmas or for life, they can really shake our souls, leave us wondering how to hope.
How to hope, or why.
Leave us wondering if the New Year will bring us more of just the same. And if you’re anything like me then you’re tempted to whisk out a sheet of paper and start making lists, ask yourself what went wrong, and start planning so the future will be better.
As if we could fix ourselves, fix our families, with a list.
The only thing is, sometimes you plan but get it all so wrong.
Sometimes you plan but it’s out of your control.
New Year’s resolutions? Yes, I’ve got them. Organized drawers, eating kale, and the like.
But this year what I’m planning is complete surrender.
Submission like I’ve never known.
All I have, all I am, all I dream, brought to the feet of the only One who will never get it wrong and never let me down.
Because what my family, what my world, what I am missing is more of Jesus.
And because it’s only is His will that we can ever truly be free.
I’m taking His list. Making it mine. Turning my life right upside down.
And I’m starting with the Word.
Because not only is the Word with God, but the Word IS God. (John 1:1).
And it’s living, and it’s active, and it knows me, too (Hebrews 4:12).
I’m going to see what I’ve been missing.
I’m going to learn to love and live
like Him.
This is January.
The first day of the rest of my life.
Join me as I discover.
You won’t look back.
Come to Me, all who are weary and heavy-laden, and I will give you rest. Take My yoke upon you and learn from Me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your soul.
And after this, I’m counting minutes–approximately two each day–until the hours stretch to bring the golden light of the summer sun. But for now, when I feel more than a little sorry for those Narnians and their ever winter never Christmas. When even the icicles hanging outside the kitchen window, and the layer of ice coating everything else, when even they can’t shine, my brain can feel as cloudy as this murky winter light.
Still, sometimes I see it–the beauty of eternity that begins today. These little souls, my little men, and the treasure that they are.
Other days I hit the floor running,
some crazy dance from room to room,
glancing occasionally at the clock,
and imaging the utter shock
my friends would feel if they ever stopped
and saw the state of this house.
On those days I find myself, at least once,
pausing–the whirlwind of Cheerios and Lego and foam swords and four little men swirling all around me, a now cold cup of tea in my hand–wondering,
what, oh, what, is going on?
There must be something, something I’m missing,
or it wouldn’t be
like this.
But what?
A little sleep, to be sure.
An intentional effort to count blessings
and sing praise
and speak truth.
Yes.
All that.
All that, and just a little more time
with Jesus.
Because though I have 2 million distractions, though the crumbs, and the laundry, and the children cry out to my clouded, foggy, weary brain, though the weather is bleak, and though I carry sorrows and disappointments in the deepest chambers of my heart,
none of it
none of it
should be an excuse.
An excuse to raise my voice or declare my dissatisfaction or remain in a dark, murky mood.
Because eternity begins today.
Our eternity began the day we were born.
And for those of us who love Jesus
that means counting those blessings,
speaking those truths,
and no matter how we’re feeling,
choosing to live like Christ.
The new year is coming.
Isn’t that a shock?
And what sort of year, I wonder, is it going to be?
I have my hopes and have my dreams,
but I realize that what I need
more than anything
is to spend more time with The Word.
With Jesus.
Pouring over His commands,
reading and re-reading his life
until His words and His ways and His will,
which are all Him,
become more of who I am, too.
For there is no better way to know what we’re missing.
There is no better way to bring into the darkness of our lives and minds
Because there’s a door, and though the Light shines through all around it,
it’s black, and it’s shut, and I can’t seem to turn the handle to see what’s inside.
And you wouldn’t think that anything could blind it,
make those beams seem a little less bright.
But somehow, the twinkly lights and inflatable Santas,
somehow, they all just DO.
Because after all, the whole world’s singing it. Belting it out like it’s no big deal.
Silent nights and angels singing.
Little towns and receiving our King.
And so of course–of course–it’s hard to awe.
Hard to grasp.
But what I can see with those golden beams shining–
when I cup my eyes to shut out the rest–
is the wonder, absolute wonder
that God would care
at all.
That He’s in love,
so in love,
with us, with the world,
that no matter what we say
or do,
no matter how hard and fast we’re running
in the opposite direction,
He’s there.
Eyes waiting to catch ours,
hand outstretched.
That He doesn’t just sit there
high on His throne,
calling, whispering
into the moments of our lives,
but He came down to join us mortals.
So close He could cook us breakfast
(like maybe toasted fish on the beach?),
so close He could kneel down in the dust
to wash the sheep dung from our feet.
He went to those lengths
because for some strange reason
He loves us that much.
Now that is something to wonder over.
Something to feel happy about.
That is a God we can worship.
A God who deserves our very selves,
who deserves our hearts.
What can I give him, poor as I am? If I were a shepherd, I would bring a lamb; if I were a Wise Man, I would do my part; yet what I can I give him: give my heart.
~ Christina Rossetti
Avonlea x
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Happy Little Sigh
Finding beauty in the everyday
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We arrived late morning, just in time to see the tail end of the die-hard Black Friday shoppers toss another piece of plastic in their over-laden carts before struggling to maneuver them to the check-out.
I couldn’t help but wonder,
did they even like that stuff?
Did they need it?
Or had they been tricked?
But I was there, too, of course.
I was there, or I wouldn’t have seen it.
I was there, and armed with the page from the paper that showed the great deal on the bathroom set I was after. Bathrobe hook, hand towel loop, toilet paper holder, plus a few more.
And wasn’t I excited to keep the hand towel off the floor, where the children always leave it, and keep the toilet paper roll out of the toilet (or so I hoped).
But of course those items were just one of many on the long, long mental list of things I’d like for the house.
And of course once we’d stopped at the mall to let the children burn off some energy at the play area, and I took a stroll past H&M, I began think about my other list. The list of things I’d like for my wardrobe.
It’s intoxicating, you know, the mall is.
Every sense assaulted from every side.
Starbucks coffee, cinnamon rolls, perfume drifting from the department stores. The feel of silk, and faux fur, and leather. Nat King Cole crooning, and the Salvation Army bell jingling. The displays of clothes and furniture all looking so perfect, so much better than anything we have at home.
Couldn’t a person just get lost in it?
Caught up in the frenzy of buying
and trying
to fill the hole inside.
And while I went home looking forward to the giving
of the few gifts I picked up,
I also went home aching,
asking,
feeling anything but PEACE.
Because I know, though I never quite believe it,
that I am blessed beyond measure,
and that the more I have, the more I will want.
And though I tell it to my children,
what Christmas is all about,
and though we’re finding more ways of giving,
more ways of loving this year,
I find it’s still easy
to miss the point.
To miss the heart.
To miss PEACE.
I love the Christmas season.
Love it more each year.
Love the baking,
and the making
of sugar cookies,
paper snowflakes,
a wreath for the door.
Love candles glowing bright,
and singing Silent Night.
Love spotting a red cardinal
perched on a branch of lacy snow.
Or holly berries, and their leaves of thorns.
But what I needed on that day,
and what I need on this,
and what I desperately want my children to see,
is that the point of Christmas,
the heart of it all,
is found in His heart.
In the heart of Jesus,
and His love for us.
In His love we can let go of all the trappings,
all our unwritten lists,
all that haunts us in the wee hours of the night,
and we can simply rest.
Cling to Him, and be at peace.
“For He Himself is our peace.”
~Ephesians 2:14
As you light your second Advent candle this Sunday, remember the PEACE we have through Jesus. Hear Him whisper, “Don’t be afraid. Don’t be afraid.”
Avonlea xo
Happy Little Sigh
Finding beauty in the everyday ❤
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“The Holly and the Ivy,” King’s College Choir, Cambridge University, England
That’s how long it’s been since we came here, to this old yellow house by the river.
A year ago, I stood looking up at the sky through the hole in the kitchen roof, counting on two hands the days till the baby would come. Trying not to care that I had to wash my dishes in the bathroom sink. Lay out our meals on a cardboard box.
At the storage unit in town a high cliff of boxes contained our stuff from two different continents,
two different lives.
I tried, but I never did find the baby clothes in time.
At night, on a borrowed computer, we tracked our stolen laptop round the city. Then lost hope when it left the state.
It had only been a year.
One year before that since we’d come back.
Started life again in America.
And even when life’s good, a person might have to mourn a little over that.
Over the loss of a country. Of a way of life.
Even without break-ins, and police, and counting loss.
And that’s exactly what I did for a while.
I counted my loss.
Sobbed over them like a teenager with a broken heart.
It was all too surreal, and I didn’t know where to begin.
And I can’t say when it happened.
Can’t say just exactly when
I felt the great relief of letting go of it all.
All the stuff.
All the demands I had for my life.
For years, I hadn’t dared draw too near. Not close enough to rest my head there on His knee.
I didn’t dare.
There wasn’t peace.
Then one night I dreamed.
He carried me in His pocket.
All linen and white.
And I was small, and I was safe,
and I went with Him through His day.
The roof has long been fixed.
I have a kitchen, and it has a sink.
Slowly, slowly, as we’ve done before, we’re making this house into a home.
But when I find myself surveying it all,
feeling pleased about the way the sideboard looks,
and the curtains, and the chandelier,
I remind myself
what I really have to be thankful for.
What I have–because of Jesus–that nothing and no one
can ever take away.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Don’t let your happiness depend on something you may lose.”
~ C.S. Lewis
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons,neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.
~ Romans 8:38-39
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A Very Happy Thanksgiving to You
Dear Readers!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Avonlea x
Find me on . . .
Instagram/Facebook/MeWe @happylittlesigh
Happy Little Sigh
Finding beauty in the everyday
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All those lazy days you planned and enjoyed are gone . . . or never seemed to come about at all.
And you’re not sure how it happened because, why, yesterday was just the fourth of July, and the time was meant to go slower, and the days were meant to be longer, and you’re just not ready to put your child into the next grade up, or go into the next grade yourself.
And you can already feel yourself drooling over tropical islands and craving some vitamin D.
And please don’t anyone mention that C word.
Christmas?
Mmmm . . . that’s right.
But aren’t we all happy when it comes?
I mean, imagine that it didn’t.
Imagine no family, no friends, no gifting, no baking, no singing, no decorations, no lights.
No light.
But there is, and we do.
Have Christmas. Have Light.
Even in winter.
And Light has a name.
“At the name of Aslan each one of the children felt something jump in its inside. Edmund felt a sensation of mysterious horror. Peter felt suddenly brave and adventurous. Susan felt as if some delicious smell or some delightful strain of music had just floated by her. And Lucy got the feeling you have when you wake up in the morning and realize that it is the beginning of the holidays or the beginning of summer.”
~ C.S. Lewis
The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe
And Light’s other name is Love.
Love that can get you through the winter.
Or a winter of your soul.
Love that comes after you, with a deafening roar and a mighty leap.
Even if you don’t know it, or you know it and you’re running away.
Winter.
It will come, no matter how we dig in our heals and will summer to stay.
But lighting our path through to next spring will be the celebration of the birth of a King.
A King who will, one day, make an end to
darkness
of
every
kind.
Journey with me? Into autumn, through the winter, as we look for Love, look for Light?
John, The Captain, and The General, and I had a delightful 24 hours in Chicago this week, relaxing in our hotel, peering through shop windows at the lovely, twinkly holiday displays, and sharing a deep dish Chicago style pizza at the famous Pizzeria Due. But those delightful activies were not the real reason for our trip. The real, really exciting reason was that I had an appointment at the British Embassy, where I took an oath and became a British Citizen. That’s right–me, Avonlea Q. Krueger, an honest to goodness British Citizen, subject of her Majesty, Queen Elizabeth.
Now let me ask my American friends not to panic–I still am and always will be an American. But for entirely practical reasons, John and I would like the entire family to have dual citizenship . . .
Okay, okay, those of you who know me well are probably sitting with raised eyebrows, saying to yourselves that there are probably one or two other reasons that have nothing to do with practicality which probably induced me to become a British citizen. And while I could begin to argue the benefits of all of us having passports from the same country, I must admit that you’re right. Some of my reasons are entirely fanciful and sentimental. Short of being adopted by a member of the royal family, or travelling through time and book-world to become one of Jane Austen’s characters, living in the UK and becoming a British citizen is the next best thing.
While other teenage girls daydreamed about New Kids on the Block or the captain of their high school football team, I was pouring over Victorian homemakers’ guides, decorating my room with lace, and telling anyone who would listen that I really was born in the wrong century. Nineteenth century Britain seemed to me the most beautiful, romantic, and inspiring places to live, and I knew that much of the history and culture had extended into the next century. And so in the background of all my dreams was the hope that one day I would step foot on the mistiest, the greenest of all isles, home to Jane Austen, Charlotte Bronte, Shakespeare, Eric Liddell, Helena Bonham Carter, George MacDonald, the Wesley brothers, and a host of other authors, poets, actors, scientists, and hymn writers on my list of people I’d like to meet.
The teenage years can be difficult ones, and I wish that I could go back and tell myself some of the blessings that would come to me in my grown up years. Knowing that I would not only visit the UK, but spend eight years of my life there and eventually become a citizen certainly would have put a sparkle in my moody teenage eyes!
John and I have had so many challenges and uncertainties over the past few months, and I keep thinking that I wouldn’t mind having a bit more certainty about my future life back here in America. But I know that we aren’t meant to know too much of our future before it happens. God’s strength is enough for today, and it’s good to reflect on His blessings, which are new every morning.
What would you like to whisper to the teenage you to give yourself a little giggle? What positive blessings and suprises have happened in your life? If you are feeling a bit discouraged or anxious right now, make a list of some of the surprise blessings that have come to your life over the past 10 or so years. They may have been the harderst 10 years of your life, or they may have been the best, but I know that you will find some blessings if you look hard enough. The birth of a child? The purchase of a home? The introduction to a dear friend? An unexpected trip? A new pet? Time spent on a favourite hobby? The aquiring of a new skill? A new business started? Provision in time of need?
I’d love to hear about some of your most blessed blessings if you’d like to share them with me!
I know it’s been a looong time since you’ve heard from me, but moving continent and starting up a new business have kept us more than a little busy. But I’m hoping that beginning with the new year I’ll be able to post more often, for I have so many reflections, ideas, and inspirations to share with you all.
Till then, let me wish you all a very cosy, sparkly, Merry Christmas and a very, very happy New Year.
happy little sigh 