Just Keep Swimming

There is some freedom that comes with having less than ten readers.

I can put my junk out there and with doing so my motives are two-fold:

1. No one that really knows me is going to know about it. Almost no one will know about it, period.

2. If someone stumbles across my blog whilst clicking "next blog" in a fit of boredom, maybe, just maybe, something I have written will point them to Jesus.

Today I am enjoying this crisp weather. My son was awesome in his stroller for all six miles (a first). I just ate some leftover pot roast for lunch... which just takes me back to my grandma Dorothy's house fifteen years ago. Christmas is Tuesday and I am not bustling around. In fact, I have a peace.


This year Christmas really seems sweeter. I've heard it a million times from stay-at-home moms about how the days are long and the years are short. The long days leading up to Christmas have come with some long naps from my sweet son who refuses to sleep at night. This has allowed some wonderful time with God, preparing my heart for His coming as a small baby. This is a first.

A small baby who could not feed himself.

A small baby who cried endlessly for no reason.

Maybe Jesus didn't take good naps... maybe He woke often at night.

Regardless, the Lord who made me and died to forgive heinous sins He knew I would commit came as a tiny helpless child.

This strikes me for one major reason- I have a hard time being helpless.

I am the first to try and soldier through something, do it all on my own.

I am reminded of Isaiah 58...

f‘Why have we fasted, and you see it not?

Why have we humbled ourselves, and you take no knowledge of it?’

Behold, in the day of your fast you seek your own pleasure,1

gand oppress all your workers.

4 Behold, you fast only to quarrel and to fight

and to hit with a wicked fist.

Fasting like yours this day

will not make your voice to be heard on high.

5 hIs such the fast that I choose,

ia day for a person to humble himself?

Is it to bow down his head like a reed,

and to spread sackcloth and ashes under him?

Will you call this a fast,

and a day acceptable to the Lord?

If my God can come and humble Himself so much to be an entirely dependent infant, only to grow to be a modest, lower class man, and then to die a criminal's death... who am I to try and pretend I can do anything?