A scripty be merry! and a snowman wreath properly display my festive feelings for the world to see. I snuck in a nativity scene I put together, and some merry pillows, but I'm holding out for the remainder for two more days. Yes, I'm counting.
We have been stuck inside, canceling plans, and doing more laundry than I'd care to do in an entire year. Both girls have come down with pink eye and this isn't exactly the way I imagined the week before Thanksgiving. Pink Eye should henceforth be named The Most Disgusting Sickness Ever.
And somehow, amidst the baths and the sleepless nights, life takes on a simplified look. It's a nice look, probably one that I should cater to more often. And we still have plenty of smiles in our sick reserves, holding out for the dances with daddy and the tea parties. I hope I never forget the way that Eisley has dubbed every prince out there James. This becomes an extraordinary level of precious when she asks Jimmy to be "the James."
Yesterday, Eisley climbed into my lap and began her questions about Jesus. The conversation went something like this:
I wanna eat a snack with Jesus.
I want to go to bed with Jesus.
Jesus isn't in my heart; he's in my tummy.
Jesus can dance with me.
My heart dances when she talks about Jesus; despite her tiny little mind's perceptions, she knows Him. I have never made a reference to where He is, other than living in their hearts. Ruby was nearly her age -possibly younger- when she made a comment about Him living up there. In our Jesus-filled conversation Eisley said the same thing.
This will be the first thanksgiving in our new house, and the last first holiday we will have here. From here on out, it's all a been there, done that sort of deal. A strange comfort that we did it! We celebrated our first year in our new home, complete with holiday traditions and a whole lot else. This has been the fastest year; and the most blessed one.
My heart is full. Our plates will be full tomorrow. My list of thanks would exceed my energy to write. My mind is not without the thoughts of people with less. The people who are struggling. The people that won't get Thanksgiving dinner. Or dinner at all. A full heart, and a broken heart all at once. I can't wait to put some of my blessings to use in filling holes in other lives.
Because this? This is is what delightfully joyful-coated thankfulness and pure joy looks like.