A Mother's Lamp Burning {Behind the Scenes}

Twenty after ten at night and I'm cutting out gingerbread. I've got pie dough in a ball waiting to be rolled out, date squares cooling on the counter, bread dough rising and cookie dough chilling in the fridge.

My mom sends me a text to see if we've lost power in the ice storm. It's the onset of the storm before Christmas and hundreds of homes will lose hydro for hours, thousands will be without power for days. (We were fortunate to be one of the ones to only lose it for a few hours. However, not until all the baking was done.)

I text her back and tell her what I'm up to. She inquires in return, "Baking marathon? Why tonight?"

Well, that's a simple response. "Why not?"

My thumb taps out on my iPhone keypad, "I've turned into my mom. ;)"

I had started into all this baking earlier in the afternoon, left it undone because of all the other interruptions of the day, like making supper and making sure there were clean socks for church tomorrow, and then being so tired by 7:30 that I needed a cat nap to get through the rest of the night. I'm still up at midnight, when the house is quiet and I can hear the rhythmic breathing of my children just around the corner of the kitchen, and I'm dipping hazelnut shortbread cookies into chocolate and adorning them with hazelnuts simply because this is a favourite cookie in our home.

Some think I'm crazy and I suppose I am. But, isn't that what moms do? Her lamp burning late into the night, making life rich, never wearying of well-doing for her family.

Whether it's cleaning clothes or dishes, tidying up from the life lived today or preparing for the day that will dawn in a few short hours, making photos books or writing down memories, sweeping the crumbs away or snuggling with nursing babies, baking bread or cookies for Christmas celebrations, the mother's job always seems to linger into the hours of darkness.

And when she finally falls into bed, exhausted from serving the ones entrusted to her care, she whispers prayers for her family for really it's not the things that can be seen that really matter, but the unseen things that the mother does for her children that will last for eternity.



Would you share if you are a Mama that has a lamp burning late?

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Our Marks Behind the Scenes

It was a quiet moment on Christmas day and one of the sweetest candid shots I snapped all day.

We had gathered around warm, gooey cinnamon rolls, feasted on the rich promising words of the Incarnation, unwrapped more than glittering presents, but His glorious presence in our lives, and pulled up our sleeves to prepare a banquet.

Now the turkey was sizzling, the smell whirling its way throughout the house, the light dinner rolls were waiting on the counter, and the golden apple pie dripping sweet juice was tempting me to make it the first course.

In the momentary hush, after the excitement of the morning and before my sister and her husband with their five boys, including twin five-month old babies, who had been without power for days due to an ice storm (Yes, I agree, they deserve more than a medal!!) would join us, I listened as my Mother-in-law shared a precious moment with one of her granddaughters.

I could hear the story of 'Audrey Bunny' unravel as she turned the pages and the bunny with a mark became real.

Real.

Because this is my story too.

It's not just the little girls who are afraid to show their marks, or fear that their marks may be seen after all their try-hard living to keep their imperfections from being seen.

From grandmothers to little girls, we all have marks that we are scared to reveal.

But in the right hands, we will come to see that no matter our mark, we are loved, and we are fearfully and wonderfully made.

"I am the LORD; I have called you in righteousness; 

I will take you by the hand and keep you." 

{Isaiah 42:6}

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