In Spite Of Me

Today, Christmas Eve, started out rough. It was raining, the boys were bored, and I fought an ugly battle with worthlessness... my old, familiar enemy that always seems to launch a surprise attack when it's time for me to step up and do something important. Today's task was to salvage what was left of this holiday season and make one last hail mary attempt at creating some Christmas magic for my family.

I seemed to fail at every turn. I slept late. I cried. The house was a mess. The trip with the boys to buy their daddy's gift was far removed from any Hallmark commercial I've ever seen. But in the end, it was they who brought the magic to me.

A jog at the park with my husband, after which he insisted on making his homemade jumbalaya.

My older son making sure that reading the Christmas story was on tomorrow's agenda, before opening gifts.

My younger son's beyond-precious letter to Santa letting him know that he'll be grateful for whatever he gets.

And my little sister's text telling me how much she loves and appreciates me.

How nice that Christmas came this year in spite of me, and without my help.

Zombies, Run! And so do I...

Apparently, the only thing that gets my booty into a good exercise routine is having a husband who is into one and shaming - I mean inspiring - me to tag along. And, as it turns out, the only thing that gets HIM up and moving is a hungry zombie horde hot on his heels.

No, the zombie apocolypse is not yet upon us (much to his dismay). But there is an iPhone app called Zombies, Run! that gets you in shape as you run errands and gather supplies for the compound, all while evading zombies who chase you at unexpected times. There are actually two apps - the training program to start getting you in shape, and then the actual game that turns you into a runner. We are doing the training program first. Not much story to go along with it, but still interesting enough to get you excited about the upcoming game. And trick you into thinking that you're "Runner #5" in the post-apocolyptic Abel Township where survival is your main objective, rather than the horribly unfit, if-I-had-to-actually-run-for-my-life-I-would-totally-die person that you really are.

Zombiesrungame.com. Cute and motivating husband not included.

Where Are You, Christmas?

I went to bed three hours ago in hopes of getting a good night's rest for an early start at the bakery tomorrow. But I was simply too upset. I'm filled with anxiety and panic. Not one to over-extend myself or allow a stressful lifestyle, I am just overwhelmed by things that seem to be beyond my control. I felt like I could just crawl out of my skin or run ten miles, barefoot and night-gowned.

Unable to sleep, I made myself some chamomile tea and am now sitting on the couch in the soft glow of our little Christmas tree. There is an owl hooting away outside in the most soothing tone. I am feeling much calmer.

I think this is the first time in my life I've ever wished that Christmas would just hurry up and be over. I adore Christmas, always have. But so far, the magic is just missing this year. And yes, I know it is supposed to come from within and all that. But I just feel too spent. I am a firm believer that we, for the most part, create our own happiness - and I have been hard at work doing so, with great results. But I am, and forever will be, my own worst enemy, sabatoging my best efforts like a boss. I am too embarrassed to admit on here what my biggest issue is, although if you know me well, then you know. And I am in bondage, my heart and soul imprisoned and enslaved inside my own body.

With every fiber of my being, I believe that God created me to need Him. I believe that He holds me in His everlasting arms and has freely given me the key to every lock that holds me captive. I believe that key is total dependancy on Him. I let go, He handles everything, I am free. It's so simple!

Right?

Then why am I still here, tied up and gagged on this stinking prison floor behind bars? I don't know. I beg God for understanding. I don't know how to properly and effectively use the key. And I am robbed of joy and peace this Christmas season.

And then I feel guilt for being so wrapped up in myself when little children are being murdered by madmen in Connecticut. How many of those parents - and countless others across the globe - would gladly trade my frustrations for their own devastating heartbreak???


Christmas Bells

I heard the bells on Christmas Day
Their old familiar carols play,
And wild and sweet
The words repeat
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

And thought how, as the day had come,
The belfries of all Christendom
Had rolled along
The unbroken song
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

Till, ringing, singing on its way,
The world revolved from night to day,
A voice, a chime
A chant sublime
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

Then from each black accursed mouth
The cannon thundered in the South,
And with the sound
The carols drowned
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

It was as if an earthquake rent
The hearth-stones of a continent,
And made forlorn
The households born
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

And in despair I bowed my head;
"There is no peace on earth," I said;
"For hate is strong,
And mocks the song
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!"

Then pealed the bells more loud and deep:
"God is not dead; nor doth he sleep!
The Wrong shall fail,
The Right prevail,
With peace on earth, good-will to men!"

-Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, 1863