Christmas morning in the afternoon.

Dear Mack,

As we pulled out of the driveway, you muttered, "this isn't fair" ... and you were totally right. It wasn't. No 6 year old in America probably had to wait until noon to open their presents on Christmas day.  Well, one did. You.

You had been so excited for Christmas morning to get here and had patiently counted down the days, and eventually the hours and minutes until the presents could be opened.  You love presents.  Actually, I can't think of anyone who doesn't like presents, but you've got to be close to the top of the list of present admirers in the history of all things {present}.

But, like most things in our world, presents weren't the priority.  I think that the chaos of the morning and the driving out of the driveway when we should have been tearing into wrapping paper was really a whisper from God that Christmas really isn't all about the presents - even though I can honestly say that the 4 of us already know that from the tips of our toes to the top of our heads and back down again.

The cows had to be moved that morning, and when cows have to be moved, cows have to be moved ... at least in the world of Murdock. And in the world of Murdock, cows trump everything.  Even presents on Christmas.

It was cold that morning as we crammed into the pickup with thermoses of hot chocolate and the dogs. I think I was the one that burst into tears first. Neither you or Mason were quite sure what to say or do except bury your head in your hands and cry with me. I even caught myself screaming silently about how unfair it was that we were driving down the road when we could have been enjoying the warmth of home around our beautiful Christmas tree like every other family in America.

And then, as quickly as I had started to cry, I started laughing.  We all did. And as crazy as it sounds, I began to actually appreciate that our Christmas wasn't going to match the rest of the world.  No one else was going to have a Christmas like ours.  Having something different than others, well that's worth laughing about, and if I were a bragger, I'd brag about it too. We stand out in a crowd because we're never in a crowd to be a part of the crowd - we're usually just passing through.

So, 4+ hours later, when we finally got back home ... guess what - the presents were still there, the sun was shining, the yummy breakfast was really a yummy brunch, and the magic of Christmas came right out of the hearts of us because it turns out Christmas is about giving & receiving ... and when it might have been easy to get a little confused about the order - we nailed it.

So, Mack ... when you look back at this Christmas of being 6 and having to wait hours longer than the average 6 year old has to wait to open presents, remember that the word "presence" is really where it's at.

You were present while we moved cows.  You were present when we opened and closed some gates.  You were present filling water troughs, and you were present where you were the present - to me, to your dad, and to a whole bunch of cows.

It's easy to get caught up in the world's view of Christmas - where presents are more important the presence.  They sound a lot alike, and they are similar, but you hold the key to making them come alive right in your depths of your heart and soul - in that place where Jesus can live in and through you!  That's the real gift, and it doesn't need a holiday to work it's magic. His presence is the present - all year, every year from now until eternity.

Thank you for being awesome enough to actually understand how important it is give ... and then receive.  You and your brother are extraordinary in that sense. You live a different life than most and you probably always will, but even when you find yourself in the midst of ordinary, remember - you are uniquely YOU and that is a gift worth giving to the world. You may not be wrapped in the shiniest paper, but your presence in the world is a gift.

May you always have that awe and wonder of the gifts you're given, and may you always be as understanding as you were on the Christmas you were 6.  That was the best gift you could have ever given me without even trying.

I love you & I hope you know how much ~

Mom

when the best option is to jump.

I've never been a huge fan of trampolines.  There is something about the lack of control one has when others are jumping next to them that just puts knots in my stomach.  Maybe because when I was about 22 years old, I found myself with an ankle swollen to three times the normal size after a fun "jump off" with my friend Chad, and walked around in an air cast for weeks. Yes, I'm pretty certain that absolutely has something to do with it.

My boys would love it if the whole world was a giant trampoline. They would run and jump everywhere - flipping, twisting, turning, and casting all their trust in the rebound ... knowing and believing that with each bounce, the momentum won't stop ...  the adrenaline will keep them going ... and they'll always bounce back.

Something happens when we "grow up" that takes the trust right out of the jump.  We quit doing it.  We quit jumping like we should, which means we quit trusting like we should too.  Notice all of the "grown ups" just watching?  {yes, I was one of the watchers too} Why do we reach this place where we are afraid to jump?

I questioned why I hadn't brought my sweats that day in my mind. And then I laughed to myself just picturing what it would look like jumping with my boys while all the other "watchers" watched this mama absolutely make a fool out of herself.  I can't jump worth a darn any more.  In fact, I'd be out of breath before I could even get out of the first pit - I'm sure of it.

The point is, I shouldn't be afraid to jump.  I may not be young anymore and physically capable of bouncing from one surface to another with ease, but there are a lot of areas in my life where "jumping" should be the only option - the only option for really learning what it feels like to fly.

The next time I find myself watching from the sidelines, I'm going to grab a pen or my phone and start typing away.  I'm going to start writing down where I need to be more bold and brave.  I'm going to type the names of those people I want to have a "jump off" contest with.  And I'm going to ask myself where I'm supposed to be jumping to and get it down in print.

There's nothing worse than just watching and not doing anything about it. Jump.

Jump and soar your way through those places where you feel like you're sinking.

Bound after those dreams you've had hidden away because they seemed too silly to catch.

Glide into a new place - where you say {I trust in YOU} because I know You've got me and You already know where I'm going to land.

And before you know it, you'll be jumping ... and you'll have a whole bunch of people jumping with you.

And you'll never be afraid to have a {jump off} again, because you know that you'll win.

missing Bama & revisiting Christmas

Dear Bama, 

Christmas was in Pendleton this year.  We had moved cows most of the day, so as usual, we weren't on time. Bryn & Josh picked the boys up early, so they were able to have a full afternoon of fun with their cousins creating chaos throughout every part of the house.

Bryn had made a sweater for Josh for a party they had attended earlier in the week - but decided the sweater should be given to Ian.  It has bells attached to it and "rings" with every step.  You would have loved it.  George also had a sweater with a bit of jingle to it, and although it didn't make noise, the moment anyone saw his sweater, laughter would erupt - so it got the same effect as the bells essentially.

Most people like to post pictures where everyone has their eyes open and that are just the right color and are totally in focused.  I guess I'm not most people.  Go figure. I am a Murdock, so you know that is far from "most" people. You see, I'm about a month behind sorting through these pictures, but have realized, that that is a gift in itself.  The magic of Christmas has come rushing back to the forefront of my mind, and I'm giggling to myself as I flip through the pictures on this cold afternoon reliving each little moment.  Pictures are good like that.  They help us remember the best parts of our lives - even when life is hard.

Thing haven't changed much.  Ian doesn't sit down for more than a minute or two usually, but when he does veer away from Mr. Serious - watch out!  His humor settles in and the jokes don't stop. I've caught him laughing more often than not lately - even in the hard - and for that - I'm grateful.

The prime rib {that was far from cheap$$$}did get charred, but was salvaged and enjoyed around 2 full tables.  Tables filled with family, food, glasses of wine, and a bit of chaos.  There is always chaos and that will never change.

We played games, had thumb wars, tickle wars, and even managed to get through a staring contest or two.

Leslie should have charged per piggy-back ride ... she would have made a small fortune.

Hugs were given, kisses were placed, and we somehow managed to get through all the present opening.

And after a wonderful afternoon and evening spent with those we are blessed to call family, I think I know what you'd be telling all of us to remember.

Every year is different, special, and unique in it's own way. Every year is worth the effort of setting aside time to just be together. It's worth all of the dishes that have to be washed. It's worth all of the nerf bullets stuck to the windows. It's worth so much more than that. And as every year will continue to change, someday, it will be our last year. {Every year should be celebrated as if it's the last year because it may just be.}

You were there with us in spirit - I know you were because with the twinkling of the lights and the notes of music playing - God surrounds us with memories of those we love most through gentle whispers! You were there - playing games, laughing, exchanging white elephant presents, and sneaking one more olive. You were there when shouts erupted as wrapping paper was tossed aside. And you were there when the last dish was put away.

Thanks for being a Murdock that we all hope to grow up to be like someday - a woman filled with grace & a sense of understanding that is missed at every gathering we have. Your legacy lives on & hopefully your grace and love are at the forefront of every interaction, every conversation, and every hug any of us that are still here living life the best we know how can give.

Missing you and hoping we're making you proud - 

Lindsay & the rest of the crew

P.S.  Mack is definitely a whisper and a wink from you.