Little Lightbulbs

I love Christmas. Truly. I love everything about it. The decorated homes, the lit trees, the look in a child's eyes when they see Santa Claus, Christmas Eve services at church. It's absolutely my favorite time of year. So, it astounds me to see all that joy diminished by the stress of the holidays. It's no secret that Christmastime and summer are when crime sprees peak. The stress of Christmas shopping, the duties of holiday parties and over scheduling of events can bring many people to a breaking point. Just yesterday, I was squeezing in some grocery shopping before picking kids up from school. After swinging into my parking spot, I noticed a yelling match going on between two "gentlemen" in the next aisle over. One man, in his truck, had apparently admonished the other guy who had parked in a spot designated for parents with children. The man who had parked in the spot began yelling obscenities at the man in the truck, dropping f-bombs for all the world

About five days ago, I was hit with an infection that ripped my legs, and my voice, right out from under me. My throat was on fire, and eating or drinking, much less talking, felt like I was trying to consume broken glass. So, here I was, an extrovert with no outlet. Because, when you lose your voice, it's very hard to be the life of the party. I watched the world spin on without my involvement, heard my children playing, unable to join in on the laughter or the fun. Truthfully, it bummed me out. I began feeling a loneliness folding in on me, a dark night without stars. When I finally got over my neurotic fear of being left out of life, realizing this was not a permanent condition, I sat back and started to notice a few things. 1) If you speak less often, people are more apt to pay attention when you finally do. Understanding what an effort it was for me to talk, my family sat up and paid attention when I did feel the necessity to do so. This is not the usual response, I

Watching my facebook feeds, you would think the sky was falling as of late. With everything from gay marriage to abortion to racial slurs being front page news, my Christian friends are nearly in tears. They fear for their country, their faith and the moral state of the world their children are growing up in. And I understand that fear, but I don't necessarily agree. Instead, I think this is an exciting time to be a Christian. Let me explain ... Everyone seems so angry, so discontent. Wasn't this exactly the same environment into which our beloved Savior was born? The world where he came to live out his 30 years was fraught with turmoil of every kind, including homosexuality, racial unrest, dissent among nations, wars, famine, waste. Yet, this is when He was working miracles ... both figuratively and literally. Why, then, should we run for the hills? My dear Christian friends are kind and generous to others. Yet, I find that as modern day Christians, we shrink from that wh

Well, it happened. For the last four years, since my son was five, we've been encouraging him to ride his bicycle. He just would never commit to learning. "I might fall," he would say. "It will hurt," he would continue. And although my husband and I would combat these complaints with encouragement and typical parent-isms like "Once you learn, you'll never forget" and "If you fall, you can get right back up," I was secretly relieved he didn't have the inclination to conquer his fears. I'm really not a helicopter mom. I don't want to hover over my children forever, just until they are big enough to defend themselves against the dangerous world outside. I know, I know. As the mom of boys I need to get over it already, but I can't help it. The very thought of him hopping on his two wheels and speeding off toward freedom filled me with dread. And yet ... So, when, at nine years old he decided to finally overcome his anxie

A friend of mine has recently been eating healthier and working out to the point where she has lost an unbelievable amount of weight. She looks great, and feels even better. So, with Easter creeping up on her, she felt compelled for the first time in a while to find a joyous color to wear on this holiest of days. But, to her great displeasure, she couldn't find anything that made her heart swoon. This opened up the conversation about the pressure we put upon ourselves wear certain adornments, especially to church. Count me among that number. I'm quite the clotheshorse. Not that I necessarily shop at expensive places, but I always feel a certain need to be, what we in the South call, well put together. I find that I'm drawn to that bright colored pair of high heels, even when my wallet is begging me to keep walking. I convince myself I really need that oh-so-soft and well cut shirt. It will go with so many things! It's an investment, really. Now, don't get me wro