Little Lamb

He tends his flock like a shepherd: He gathers the lambs in his arms and carries them close to his heart; he gently leads those that have young.
— Isaiah 40:11


I hope you feel gathered today, in His arms and not astray.

I hope you feel close to his heart when the worry or fear or sadness starts.

I hope you know His gentle voice  that leads in many ways; leads us to be still, or to walk through the fire, or leads us to honesty and vulnerability, or to carry on with the ordinary tasks of the day again.  Maybe He will gently lead you to help or to comfort or to compassion or to grace or to rescue or to manna for the moment too. 

That is my prayer for you today.

The smell of burnt wood.

Jeff lies on the game room floor concentrating on burning designs into homemade wooden Catan pieces.

A shaggy dog snoring on the couch. Maggie, she reminds me of Mary's little lamb, everywhere that Mary went the lamb was sure to go. She is my shadow.

Oliver is with Grandparents at the Tulsa Christmas Parade waving an American flag as Kermit the frog floats past him in the air in wearing a Santa hat. 

Today Jeff works on burning the sheep and wheat symbols onto the pieces. 

It's been over a year since he worked on completing this game board. 2 house moves and 2 remodels later we are settled, and so he can work on his Settlers of Catan game board. I will be honest; I nagged at him to wait until after Christmas to get this project out again. Yet, it ended up making for a fun weekend. I tend to wait for a perfect better never ever right ideal time, Jeff pushes for the now. We are a good balance. Sometimes the waiting is needed and sometimes the push to begin is needed too.

When Oliver knocks on the door, Maggie runs down the stairs barking. Oliver dumps out all the candy from the parade in the entryway. Jeff asks his mom to come see his progress. She oooo's and awe's like the loving mother she is, who still has Jeff's school art hanging on her walls. 

It's after dinner now. The boys are next to me on the couch watching the Grinch. It's too loud and obnoxious for me, but Oliver's occasional giggle is cute. 

The next day after church, I work on calligraphy, addressing Christmas cards at my mom's house. Her tree is lit and the new season of The Crown is on in the background.

I dip the nib into the glass jar.

I make mistakes at least once on each card.

A letter that could look better.

A smudge here, ran out of space there. 

But I let it go, and enjoy the soothing motion and flow.

Maybe if your right-now-life is hard, or fear is near, or loss is what you have experienced, maybe a little letting go to create something fun or friviolous or delicious might help, maybe not? just an idea. For me this season of Advent, art feels like therapy, and creating has been a comfort and joy.