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There’s a line in the story of Jesus’ birth that, since becoming a mother, is always popping into my mind. It’s not one people really stop to pick apart or even contemplate why it’s there. A simple little verse that, written in a day LONG before social media, helps guide my online-sharing practices in this technology age.

mary joseph and the babe

Just in case anyone needed a visual, I give you Joseph, Mary, and a very excited baby Jesus.

A brief synopsis of the story, as well as a couple things we know about Mary: She didn’t come from a well-to-do family. Until of course giving birth to Jesus, she hadn’t done anything notable or newsworthy. She was a teenager, engaged and in love with Joseph, who stuck by her side even when she told him this doozy, “I’m pregnant with God’s baby.” Mary and Joseph travel to their hometown to be counted for a mandatory census. Mary is super pregnant and they must have gotten there kind of late because all the inns and extra rooms are already packed full of people. They finally find an innkeeper who allows them to sleep in his barn with the animals. Baby Jesus is born there and sleeps in a feed trough under the most humble of circumstances.
After he’s born, God sends a star to shine over the barn where his family is staying. Angels visit some nearby shepherds to alert them that their Savior is here. The shepherds start rejoicing and spreading the news, waste no time locating Jesus, and bow to worship him as soon as they arrive. Magi (important, well-known wise men) from afar see the star-beacon and follow it to Bethlehem knowing that it’s a big deal. When they make it to the barn, they shower Jesus with expensive, lavish gifts. There is an electricity in the air as the people of Bethlehem start catching on to what’s happening.
If this were me in present time, how would I have reacted to all the fuss? Especially as a teenager. 
The grown men/strangers bowing down to my infant? Document the ordeal in detail to post on Facebook.
The visits from three distinguished kings, offering gold and expensive oils? Uh, I’d for sure name drop. Snap a quick pic for Insta of my wee babe in the arms of my famous visitors (with the fancy gifts in view).
From being a “nobody” to widespread recognition.  Tweet it out and try and develop a following, leaning in to my new-found fame.
But what Mary did is the part that sticks with me: “Mary treasured up all these things and pondered them in her heart.” Aware of just how special this child and these moments were, she didn’t rush to a news outlet. She pondered them in her heart. I imagine a little half smile on her face as she gets lost in her thoughts.
I know, I know. She didn’t have internet or a cell phone. What would be the olden day equivalent? “She told everyone she met along the road that her kid was kind of a big deal.” Not sure exactly what she would have done if Bethlehem had wifi, but it’s significant to me that this simple line was purposely recorded in the Bible.
I distinctly remember a moment with my firstborn when she was a couple months old where I realized this line would forever serve as a reminder for me. A reminder to save some things just for me. I was breastfeeding her, looking down at the hugest eyes I’d ever seen. It was early in the morning – just before dawn – and the dim light from outside was casting a blue glow throughout the room. She stared at me with her baby blues as she ate. It was serene and wonderful and powerful and a gift. I remember thinking, “Where’s my phone when I need it? The world needs to see how angelic she is. Can I film this without showing any of my…parts…?” followed immediately by a thought that was its exact opposite, “No way. How could I cheapen something so tender and special? What an honor that no one can see this but me. This is a sacred moment meant just for mother and child.”
 
Moms, there aren’t a lot of accolades or awards in our line of work. We don’t get glowing quarterly reviews or raises affirming us of a job well done. In fact, there are lots of daily complaints and criticisms from our little charges. What Mary teaches me is that the sweetest of these moments with my babies are my most valuable rewards. Meant to be treasured and pondered. I’m not suggesting we boycott social media; my parents who live 700 miles away would never go for that! I’m just encouraging you to keep some things just for yourselves, Moms. Your kids are so special and I know that’s why you want to put it out there, but it doesn’t all have to be broadcast. You deserve to keep something untouched, undiscovered, and sacred that you alone can treasure and ponder.
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My kids were being pretty annoying in the car last week. Cortland has figured out Harper’s annoyance triggers, not that Harper hides them super well, but, in no time at all, Cort has become an expert in exploiting her sister’s weaknesses. Here is how it went: We were driving home from gymnastics and Cortland started saying, “I’m five! I’m five!”. Harper, who actually is five, became quickly agitated and started yelling, “You’re not five! You’re TWO! YOU’RE TWO!!” As any other parent can attest, Harper’s tantrum reaction only served to encourage Cortland’s insistence of being five. “MOM! Are you listening to her? She’s saying she’s five! She’s NOT five! She’s NOT! She’s two! She’s saying she’s FIVE!” Tears. Balled up fists. Screaming. Kicking my seat in frustration.

That's right. These angels.   Photo by Brighten Photography

That’s right. These angels.
Photo by Brighten Photography

I could not believe how ridiculous the scene had become. I talked Harper down eventually and somehow was able to reason with her. We talked about how I am the final authority on how old Cortland is. I was there when she started being a person. She wouldn’t be here without me. Just because Cortland says she’s five doesn’t make her five. She is completely, totally, and helplessly obligated to the same system of time and counting and aging that we are all tied to. She doesn’t get to skip ahead or fall behind. Maybe she wants to be five, but she is two. Maybe she says she is five, but she is two. Maybe she even really believes she is five. Know what? She’s still two. I am the final authority on this topic. I know the real truth, despite what anybody says. So, Harper, trust that what is truth will continue to be.

The whole conversation stuck in my thoughts later for quite some time. I noted that her behavior is not far from lots of adults I know, at times even me. We throw (super annoying) adult sized tantrums (typically on social media) when our feathers get ruffled over something another mere man says or decides. We who are in Christ should know by now that God is our final authority. He knows the truth. He was there when this all started and we wouldn’t be here without him. A man saying he’s a woman does not make him a woman. Legislation going into effect governs the law of the land; it does not govern the law written on our hearts. We look ridiculous with balled up fists, screaming, red-faced, kicking the back of God’s seat, “Did you hear that?! Do you hear what they’re saying?? It’s not true! It’s NOT TRUE!”

Maybe you’re not a tantrum thrower (and thank you), but you feel anxiety mounting when you hear unsettling news, whether it’s national news or a disagreeable set of views from someone close to you. Don’t stop after the first verse of John 14, but that’s what I’ll include right here. From Jesus: “Don’t let your hearts be troubled. Trust in God. Trust also in me.” I have to include verses 16 and 17 because they’re so interesting: “And I will ask the Father, and he will give you another Advocate, who will never leave you. 17 He is the Holy Spirit, who leads into all truth. The world cannot receive him, because it isn’t looking for him and doesn’t recognize him. But you know him, because he lives with you now and later will be in you.” My takeaway here? If I’m getting all up in arms or letting worry nag at me and trouble my heart, I’m showing a lack of faith in God’s sovereignty and a fundamental distrust that Jesus is who he says he is.

Once more: We who are in Christ should know by now that God is our final authority. Not the President. Not the Courts. Not strangers, not friends, not family, not even our emotions with all their twists and turns. If you don’t know what’s real and what’s not, ask the One who is Truth to reveal it to you. You will waste a lot of time finding out the Truth if you’re sifting through talk shows and blogs and articles and newsfeeds. Just go straight to the source. God knows the real truth, despite what anybody else says. So, friends, trust that what has always been truth, is yet truth, and will continue to be.

And goodbye, Facebook. For a month. My sister challenged me to 30 days of Facebook-less life and I’m doing it (she’s Instagram-less). I’m a little bit sad, a little bit scared, and a lot of relieved. I’m sad because I really enjoy perusing the newsfeeds, pictures, birth/engagement/other major life event announcements, and, for less-than-noble reasons, the absurd chatter we’re all accustomed to on social media. You’d think I would un-friend some of these who make me baffled-crazy, reading their status updates; but, alas, my inner drama-mama can’t turn away from the controversies. I’m scared because what if I’m invited to the party of the year and the invitation is through Facebook? Or what if someone breaks up or makes up or something similarly earth shattering like change their hair color? And I’m not around to cyber stalk for details? I’m missing so much of other people’s lives!

Above all else, I’m relieved. Because I’m not missing my own life. I’m not addicted to Facebook – really, I’m not. But I’m definitely preoccupied. You can tell by the way I hover around my computer after posting a picture, update or blog post, waiting for the red notifications to come in. I’ll still be hovering over this published post, you can bet on it. Honestly, I don’t even apologize for that. I’m a stay at home mom. We’ve been a one car family for three years now and we like it that way. However, it means that, unless there’s a doctor’s appointment or other need for me to take the car, me and the little ladies are on foot (or, more likely, double stroller) if we want to hit up the park, grocery store or Target (which, conveniently, are all within a mile of our house). So when I say we’re stay at home, we’re reeeeeally stay at home. I need that social feedback – the comments and smiles in the form of “likes” from friends. Obviously, face to face interaction is optimal, but being “liked” in whatever sense of the word you’re into does do something for me. A good something.

So, that’s it. Starting January 6, unless it’s something directly related to business, I’ll be communicating and/or spying only via phone or email or carrier pigeon over the next 30 days. I’m still going to need that social feedback and interaction, but I’m so glad I’ll be eliminating what is my biggest time-waste.

In other news, Matt built Frankie a hutch and just in the nick of time. He had been living in temporary quarters (a big box on our kitchen floor). Turns out, Frankie is a serious escape artist and for three straight mornings, we had to track him down by following the trail of turds. So we wised up and Frankie got moved to the shower for his overnights. Which is equally as disgusting in the mornings, but much easier to clean. Don’t worry, animal lovers, we’re not kicking him out of the house until the present cold snap has passed. Meaning, he’s probably pooping in my shower as we speak.

Pretty nice digs, if I do say so myself.

Pretty nice digs, if I do say so myself. Good work, Hoon!

Just a girl and her bunny.

Just a girl and her bunny.

When we went out to let him hop around the hutch for the first time, Harper actually asked me to go back into the house so she and Frankie could have “some alone time.” When I peeked my head back out the door, she was singing him songs about being in love. Ones that she was making up as she went, of course. She’s the best.