My Turn {Simple Moment, Bigger Picture}

It was my turn to put the girls to bed tonight. Ed was off to choir practice (He says he’s a bass but I think he’s more of a baritone) and so he kissed the pajama-dressed girls goodnight and drove away. I lit the first purple candle in our Advent wreath while Lily and Emmy ran around the house turning off lights. We began the new nighttime routine we started last Sunday; first, we sing the songs Lily and Emmy will be singing in the Christmas Service, then we sing “O Come, O Come Emmanuel” and finish with Silent Night. We sing the same songs every night, but not always in that order, and sometimes with an addition or two.

Then comes the ritual of arguing about who will blow out the candle even though Mommy (me) tries to enforce taking turns. This will be so much easier next week when we light two purple candles instead of just one.

Then up the stairs we went, heading for my favorite part of putting the girls to bed by myself. Normally, Ed takes Lily to her room to read chapter books to her, and Emmy and I go read picture books. But when Daddy’s gone, each girl gets to pick a book to read, and we snuggle in Mommy and Daddy’s bed. Tonight’s picks were The Pigeon Finds a Hot Dog written by Mo Willems (Emmy) and Officer Buckle and Gloria, written by I don’t remember please don’t make me go look  (Lily’s pick). After reading time, Lily snuggles deep into the covers of the bed, while I go and rock Emmy in the old glider. I sing bedtime songs. After carrying Emmy to her bed, Lily follows me in and kisses Emmy good night. Just a couple of hours earlier they had been bickering like mad, unable to get along. I love seeing Lily being so gentle with her little sister.

Lily goes off to bed next, and I give her a little snuggle time in her bed.

Our bedtime routine is different when Ed is gone, and we always miss him. But we know he’s not gone for long; he’ll be back the next night to sing Silent Night with us. And we are thankful.

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Lifeless?

The last leaf has fallen from the maple trees in front of our house. The green grass is slowly turning to brown as cold air settles in to stay. November is here.

As the wind whirls dead leaves around me, it would be easy to assume that the middle of November here in the Midwest is lifeless. There are no green leaves on the trees; brown clematis vines rattle against the lamp post; impatiens have wilted away from frostbite. Everything seems quite dead.

The brisk winds have blown all the leaves off the trees.

But wait! Just below the clematis skeleton are purple chrysanthemums, still colorful and able to withstand the light frost the past few nights have seen.

A fat brown squirrel stubbornly chews away at a pumpkin. He knows what treasure awaits him inside, and when he finally gets to those pumpkin seeds, he carries away each seed to help him stay plump.

The ground is not yet too frozen for mud pies, as my two little girls discover. The chill in the air is not enough to keep them inside!

As I think about all these things, I am reminded of the trip my father took this weekend. He drove up to Minnesota and visited a quiet place where my mother is buried. I can imagine the silent stones overlooking the small lake; the cold Minnesota wind whistling over the hill, making that place seem indeed lifeless.

That must have been how the women at the tomb felt on that that early Sunday morning, as lifeless as the tomb in front of them.

But wait! Just inside the lifeless tomb are two angels! They are certainly not lifeless, and neither was our Lord when He rose on that third day!

Today we celebrate Christ the King Sunday, and as we remember that wonderful day when He rose from the grave, we are reminded why He is the King of Heaven and Earth. And when we reach that heavenly shore, we will wonder why we thought death was lifeless, because that thought couldn’t be farther from the truth of eternal life that Jesus brings.

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