So it’s the Wednesday for Christmas. I’m waking up in my bedroom at my parents house. It’s quite, except for the TV that’s blaring the morning news somewhere in the house. I haven’t actually gotten out of bed yet and only reached for the computer to see what time it was.

And yet I ended up here. Writing an edition of Dispatches. Somehow, I’m surprised and not surprised! But, here we go!

• I slept well in my old bedroom on the mattress that hurts my back. Well except for dreaming about wearing olive green eyeshadow. That wasn’t so cool.

• There’s good news about my grandma. She didn’t break her arm, but she is getting more and more combative at the nursing home. They met with the psychologist yesterday who said this would not be getting better and gave some straightforward advice to my family about how to treat my grandma. They’ll be trying to manage her mood swings and combativeness with meds, but if that fails, she may be moved to another nursing home that can handle these things. And the best ones are about an hour away from my hometown.

• I got to see my nephew last night. We played ball and he didn’t mind when I sort of hit him on the head with the ball. He also, sort of, learned to play catch with Muffin. I think it weirded her out.

• When I was growing up, my brother and I had Christmas Eve Eve traditions. For the life of me, I can’t remember what they were!

• I just looked outside and it looks cold and gross. Maybe I’ll finish this and go back to sleep. I don’t think anyone would mind!

• I would like some dark chocolate and there appears to be none around my mom’s house. Sad!

I think I hear my mom getting breakfast ready. And I wouldn’t want to miss that! So, I’m off of here! Have a wonderful Christmas! I probably won’t be back on here for a couple of days, so enjoy the gift of my silence! Love and hugs to you all!

Sometimes, the drive from Nashville to my parents’ house is just plain boring. Most of the time actually. I mean, after you get out of Nashville, you just drive and drive and drive on I-24 until you get to Paducah, Ky. Generally, it looks something like this:

That was pretty much the case for today. Not a lot of traffic. Nothing to look at, though there was tobacco drying in some of the barns. I listened to my iPod (a podcast of “Wait, Wait. . . Don’t Tell Me,” a show I learned about when I googled Mo Rocca the other day) and tried to learn the words to the Getty song, “Still, My Soul, Be Still,” seeing that it’s probably a song I need to internalize.

I made it to Paducah. I made it to Wickliffe, Ky. I drove across the Ohio River and waited to turn so that I could cross the Mississippi. But I couldn’t. Traffic was backed up and truckers were just sitting there, flashers on, waiting for an oversized load that had run into some trouble to get out of the way. Cars began stopping behind me. And there I sat, unable to move, stuck in that little piece of Illinois that sits between the Ohio and Mississippi Rivers.

Eventually, some genius figured out that they had to alleviate some of the traffic issues and got one lane cleared. I waited my turn, crossed the river, and reveled at the amount of traffic stuck on the Missouri side of the river. It’s at this point that I noticed the guy behind me (from Arkansas) was riding on my bumper. I sped up a little, but really, I was already speeding and that road is full of dips and potholes and curves, plus a tractor/trailer was in front of me and I couldn’t go much faster.

Then, it happened. The trucker decided to pull off (on a curve) and I began applying my brakes, but made the mistake of glancing in the rearview mirror and saw that the guy behind me was much too close. I continued slowing to avoid hitting the truck, which was barely out of the road, and tried to maneuver my car into the position that might protect me the most. By some miracle, the guy managed not to hit my car (by inches) and we both went on our way and got around the truck. That didn’t stop the Arkansas driver from putting it into warp speed, passing me in a stretch of road that might have been a no passing zone, and glaring at me. Not that I wasn’t glaring at him. Nope, not at all.

But I made it to Sikeston safely, had lunch with my parents, and then we all eventually came home. My mom is making supper, my dad is working on farm business, and I’m sitting in front of their gas fireplace writing about my day. The holidays have begun!

Later today, I’ll pack up the car and drive to Missouri. Christmas will begin, with all it’s craziness and joy. My family will go caroling tomorrow. We’ll watch the Mizzou/Illinois Braggin’ Rights game and go to bed elated or utterly depressed depending on the outcome. We’ll go shopping. We’ll cook, clean, and eat. We’ll drive. We’ll hug family members we don’t see that often.

But this year, despite all the signs, it feels a little like Christmas has snuck up on me. I don’t feel quite prepared to celebrate the season in the way it should be. Because in all the joy I have (which is much), there’s also sadness. My grandma isn’t doing as well as I’d like. I know too many people who are grieving this time of year.

But I think one of the most beautiful things about Christmas is that it comes whether you want it to or not. It’s a reminder of what’s important, of what God has done, and the unescapable, unexplainable love He has for us. God will display His love for us whether we want to hear it or not.

So, I may be hit or miss on here for the next few days with all the Christmas insanity. Most of you know how to reach me otherwise! If not, I’m praying you all have a VERY MERRY CHRISTMAS! I’ll be back in Nashville on 12/28, so start counting down the days!

Also, say a prayer for my friend Dawn today. She’s being induced today and baby #2 should make his appearance very soon!

Seeing that I’m kind of out of it today and actually got up, ate breakfast, then went back to bed for awhile, I’m not sure writing something coherent is really something I can do at this point. (Spells trouble for me when I start working on stuff, doesn’t it?) Anyway, all that said, I’ll just give you a few thoughts:

• If my driving coming to work today is any indication of my driving to Missouri tomorrow, you all need to pray. I managed to cut someone off and drive in two lanes at once. I was the person I hate!

• The morning show on Lightning 100 plays the Bare Naked Ladies’ song “If I had a million dollars” WAY too much. You have to really, really, really be in the mood for that song, and basically, I never am.

• My office seems darker than usual this morning. I think my 3-way lamp is only working on the first level these days. So, I predict I fall asleep by 9 a.m.

• I was going to bring my laptop to work today so I could work on some files we’ve already packaged up for me to work on at home over my vacation. (No comments. I realize I am going to be doing some work on my vacation, and I agree it is stupid. And I may not do that much. But if I want to NOT get in trouble for missing a deadline, I have to at least try to edit some devotions.) But, alas, I left my laptop at home. On the couch I think. I guess Muffin can run her Internet business today.

• I haven’t listened to the Avett Brothers much, mostly because I doubted the musical taste of the person who told me about them. Their song “I and Love and You” is on the radio right now and I kind of love it.

• I’m cooking supper for some friends tonight. We’re having chicken of some sort. What else should I serve?

• I’m leaving for Missouri tomorrow. But I haven’t packed, finished the laundry, and don’t really care. It’ll all get done, right?

That’s pretty much all I’ve got today. My work is seriously in trouble!

At church today, we talked about the Christmas story in both my small group and during the sermon. Sitting there, I was struck by the number of things that happened that wouldn’t have happened had I been in charge.

I mean, I’m sure Mary never dreamed that her marriage would start with an unexpected pregnancy. I’m sure to be a woman the generations would call blessed, she wasn’t expecting that pregnancy to come before she and Joseph were actually considered married. In their wildest dreams, I don’t think Joseph and Mary thought that their impending marriage would be tarnished by gossip and dirty looks, possibly even ostracized from family and friends. More than that, I don’t think the couple planned on Mary giving birth in a stable, which despite the pretty pictures we like to paint, likely wasn’t glowingly warm or sparkling with cleanliness. It was dirty. It probably smelled. It wasn’t home. And Joseph was the only one there to help her give birth, a moment that I suspect in the family-oriented Jewish culture would have involved the women in Mary’s family gathering around her to help her through the labor. As Andrew Peterson so eloquently put it, Mary gave birth with no mother’s had to hold.

It probably wasn’t what she dreamed about when the angel announced she would give birth to the Messiah. What girl dreams of giving birth like that? What girl dreams of this strange relationship with the guy you’re planning to marry who has some reason to think you’ve been unfaithful? Who wants to stand in front of Simeon eight days after the birth of your first child and be told that a sword will pierce your very soul?

I don’t know if Mary and Joseph knew that this would be the road they’d have to walk when God invited them into His plan. I like to think that they would have responded the same even if they did know it. But I also wonder if they were anything like me and ever thought, just to themselves, “This isn’t the way it was supposed to go!”

Because that sure does make it easier for me, because I say those words to myself all the time. When what I had in mind doesn’t quite turn out that way. When I find out something that I did and thought nothing about hurt someone. When my grandma breaks her arm in the nursing home because she got so upset she fell out of her wheelchair. When Missouri loses to Kansas.

So this year, I’m celebrating the unexpected—the good and the bad—as opportunities.

It’s been a long week, y’all. I’m not going to lie.

But it’s Friday. Fun is in store. And the Christmas vacation kind of got started last night, even though I won’t be off work until Monday around 11 a.m. That’s because last night I went to the Andrew Peterson Christmas show at the Ryman. I’ve set a personal best of attending two years in a row. That’s kind of sad!

So, anyway, last night. I met my friend Janice and her husband, Jason, for dinner at Demos’ before the show. She brought me dark chocolate and apparently didn’t recognize me (?) when they got to the restaurant, and I brought exhaustion and hopefully somewhat coherent conversation. The place was packed with people also going to the show. It’s funny to say that because I didn’t talk to any of them, I could just tell. We Christian AP fans, we give off a vibe. As we were leaving, I overheard one of the waiters saying to another, “there’s something at the Ryman tonight. Some Andrew Peterson guy or something. . .”

That made me laugh, if only because I feel like I’ve had that conversation a million times before. Even this week when I was expressing my excitement about going to some coworker friends. Well, that actually devolved into one of them asking if AP was one of my boyfriends (a term I jokingly apply to male musicians I like, actors I like, and sometimes grocery stores I like, such as Trader Joe’s). I tried to explain that my love and adoration for Andrew has to do with the songs he sings, the lyrics he writes, and the general manner in which he lives his life and that being a fan does not necessarily mean you have a crush on the artist. I don’t know that my point was ever fully understood, but oh, well. I mean, earlier in the day this friend had also dissed Andy Davis to my face. TO MY FACE!

But I love, love, love the Andrew Peterson show. I love the collection of musicians. I love the teamwork. I love Gabe Scott and Ben Shive playing every instrument imaginable. I love AP’s new songs, introduction faux pas, and Jill Phillip’s amazing voice. I love that moment at the end when all the artists come back on stage and all this amazingly beautiful musical stuff is happening, then all the sudden they start singing together “Sing out with joy for the brave little boy, who was God yet made Himself nothing.” I love the AP show because it gets my focus on what Christmas is, who I am, and how dearly I am loved.

Some favorite moments from the night:
• AP’s newer songs that he played in the round. I like it when people have the talent to write beautiful music and lyrics and still make fun of themselves.
• Andy Gullahorn’s funny, honest, and thought-provoking song.
• The voice that is Jill Phillips and the beautiful song she and Andy G. sang together about marriage.
• Andy Osenga. His voice. His guitar. He makes me smile.
• AP introducing one of the artists as someone he “met at a singles conference.”
• Discussion of bad band names with Marcus Myers.
• Brandon Heath singing “Deliver Me.” It’s one of my favorite songs in the BTLOG set and for me, Derek Webb is the standard. But Brandon Heath brought it last night and I give him two thumbs up. Also, it was cool to be there for the first time he got to sing on the Ryman stage. (Did you guys know that I’ve sang on the Ryman stage? OK, I sort of sang near the Ryman stage, but I have also been backstage. . . )
• That final song when all the artists join AP on stage and sing praises to God for what He has done in Jesus.
• And finally, the congregational singing AP uses to draw people back in after the intermission and end the concert. I love those moments, except this year, they were disrupted by some strangely operatic, quavery voiced soprano somewhere near me who sang an octave higher and held her notes longer than anyone around us. I got really tickled by this at one point. And then, later, Janice said for a minute she thought it was me. She almost got killed on a Nashville sidewalk for that.)

It was a good night, even if Blog Friend Scott and I were in the same room (albeit the entire Ryman filled to capacity) and never saw each other. How do these things happen?!
Anyway, happy Friday!

Last night, I was talking with Mindy and Rachel about a friend request I’d gotten on Facebook from a guy I apparently went to high school with but have NO memory of. What makes that fact really embarrassing is that my high school was small. I mean my graduating class was about 40 people and most other classes were comparable, so remembering someone should be easy. Add to that the fact that this guy is a few years older than me and I’m further confused.

That conversation with Mindy and Rachel led to me getting out my year books and looking up said person. And I still have NO memory of who he is. None. Zilch. I’m going to have to ask my brother and my mom and listen to them say things like, “how can you NOT remember that?”

(It should also be noted that by getting out my yearbooks while Mindy and Rachel were there, they both got to see the 7th grade picture of me I’ve tried to keep hidden. The one with big bangs and glasses that (no lie) take up 3/4 of my face. I. am. not. kidding. I am also NOT smiling in this lovely picture. I will try to keep this gem hidden better from now on.)

Somewhere in there, though, I began looking through my senior memory book and reading the things people had written in there. Some were the things everyone says. Stay the same! Don’t forget me! You’ll go far in life because you have a great personality. (I tend to think of that phrase as a nice way for someone to call you ugly, but I’m going to believe that the person who wrote it meant that I was actually a fairly nice person in high school.) Some people thanked me for friendship and giving them rides. One friend told me she expected to see me writing for Time magazine in the future. (Don’t think that one will come true!)

I was struck by the things we wrote. Because when we wrote those things, we meant them. We thought we were so grown up, ready to take on the world, and have our big adventures. We thought we were mature and ready for anything the world could throw at us. When I read those words now, more than 10 years later, I just reflect on how naive we were. How sheltered our lives had been. I think of us, writing notes in each other’s memory books on the cusp of adulthood and revel at all the ways things could have gone and all the ways they did.

As someone who’s a little older and has a little more perspective, part of me would like to tell us to slow down. To not wish those moments away. To savor the last bits of dependence on our parents and families, to not strain so hard for independence. I’d tell my class that change happens; life happens. And sometimes, it’s the journeys that we never expected that become the sweetest moments of our lives. I’d encourage my friends and classmates to make good choices, to think before we leaped, to trust God more than we trusted ourselves.

And then, I got to close that book and reflect on the life I have lived. It isn’t the one my friends expected or even what I thought would happen. But it’s good, and these days, I can see God’s hand in it. And life is good. And I am happy. And all is well.

But if I do ever decide to get really big glasses again, remind me of my 7th grade picture!

It’s Wednesday! It’s “Dispatches” Day.

Admit it: you woke up thinking about that, didn’t you? Oh, you didn’t? Hmm. Well. I feel a little awkward now.

But whether or not you woke up eagerly expecting a new edition of “Dispatches” this morning doesn’t really matter. Even if you woke up thinking by chance maybe I wouldn’t write “Dispatches” today, it’s what you’re getting. So, man up and deal with it.

• For the second time in the last few months, I had a disturbing dream in which I was somehow in danger. Not long ago, I dreamed that someone was trying to shoot me in an empty ampitheater, but the gun was out of bullets. Last night I dreamed that someone broke into a room I was staying in and attacked me. I have not been watching creepy things on TV. I do not know where these dreams are coming from, but I really wish they’d go away. I never used to dream scary stuff!

• So, my hair looks pretty bad today. It’s oddly freeing to admit that.

• THE ANDREW PETERSON CHRISTMAS SHOW IS TOMORROW NIGHT! Squeal! Dinner with friends, a good show, a cold night, with a good weekend ahead. These are the bright spots in an otherwise lackluster week.

• This morning in my kitchen, I got a little overwhelmed by everything I’m trying to get done at work today. I’m tired. Tired in my bones. Tired of people telling me what to do and how I need to do my job (said person does this out of a desire to help, but it makes me want to punch him/her in the mouth). Tired of always being behind. Tired. Tired. Tired.

• Sometimes, I get obsessed by a song and kind of play it over and over and over. I do try to temper this a bit, knowing it can be annoying to those in the offices next to mine or in the car with me. Current obsessed-over songs are “Goodnight/Goodbye” by Will Hoge and “Christmas Time” by Andy Davis. The latter is mostly because Andy talks about being lonely at Christmas, and I’m feeling a little sad this year. I miss my Grandma Polly a lot right now and I miss the way my Grandma Ruby used to be on Christmas. And I’m quite familiar with being the only singleton in family gatherings full of married people. (I don’t say any of that to make anyone feel sorry for me, because I don’t feel sorry for myself. I’m just being honest and owning up to the feelings.)

• A week from today, I’ll go Christmas caroling at nursing homes with my family and some members of my home church, then watch the Mizzou-Illinois Braggin’ Rights basketball game on TV. I hate the Illini. A lot.

That’s enough for today. I have to get to work. Christmas XOXO to you all!

I work on a magazine. We all know that.

Magazines have deadlines, right? We all know that, too.

Because of a lot of factors, the mag I edit is running behind as far as our production schedule goes. I’ve actually stopped looking at the production schedule because truly, it only mocks me. But the fact is, we have to get an issue done before Friday. And as this week progresses, that is seeming less and less likely to me.

Friday was the deadline. . . until yesterday when a team member informed me she had to have it early on Thursday afternoon. I don’t know if she realized I never responded. Because, frankly, I don’t know if it’s possible. And there’s a part of me that really, really dislikes how I should edit and when I should have things done. Because shifting that date, even by as little as it was, really messes everything up.

But here’s the deal: I have other obligations and things I want to do this week. And I’m doing them. I’m not staying here all hours of the night. I’m not taking work home. I’m not going to worry about it. I’ve got other things to think about and fun things to look forward to.

So, I hope we meet this deadline. Maybe I should be more worried about what would happen if we missed it, but I’m pretty much refusing to care at this point.

(Note: I don’t recommend apathy. It’s generally not a good idea. But I refuse to get upset and overwrought about this deadline. And that’s just the way it’s going to be!)

Ah, yes. It’s time for the Christmas parties. Which is also the only time of year we like to pull out those silly Dirty Santa games (which could also be called White Elephant, Yankee Swap or any other combination of words that really don’t tell you anything about what you’re going to do). I’m not a HUGE fan of the whole thing in that most people try to bring the most TERRIBLE thing they can find and I end up with something crappy immediately, meaning no one trades with me and I’m forced to hide said icky item in a drawer in the living room of person who threw the party. Not that I did that or anything with the lovely cherub picture frame I got on Friday night. . . .

But I digress. In my department at work, we do a $5 DVD exchange and play Dirty Santa every year at the Christmas party. There are hard and fast rules about how many times the DVD can be stolen and when it is frozen, and these rules are always clearly explained and enforced. People actually have strategies to get the DVD they want.

But there’s been some differing ideas of what types of DVDs to buy. Most people think that since it’s a DVD and that’s kind of fun, you might as well get one you want to watch. Notice I said MOST. There are these few hold-outs who buy completely awful movies and think it’s funny. Well, it’s not when you spent money (I know it’s only $5) on a DVD that you actually like and you go home with something like Howdy Doody. Which is what I got last year.

But this year, our department took the whole thing to a new level of awkwardness. First off, one guy didn’t bring a movie, but played the game. When we got to the end and someone didn’t have a CD, everyone was like “‘Fess up! Who didn’t bring a movie?!” He meekly admitted he hadn’t and we all marveled that since he was the person who started the game, why he hadn’t just said, “Hey, guys. I completely forgot to bring a movie. I’m going to sit this one out.” But, no. He played the whole game and went home with a DVD, leaving one member of the fellowship committee (who had brought a DVD) DVD-less. We had demanded that he pay her $5 or give her the DVD, but he seemed unconcerned and oblivious to the fact that what he’d done wasn’t cool, nice, or right.

But that’s just one thing. As the fellowship committee, we stated that people had to bring movies that they would actually want to see or own. So why, then, did I end up with a kid movie/cartoon from the Christian bookstore next door called “Really Wooly Kids”? WHY? (On another tangent: Do I have radar for all the gross gifts? WHY DO I ALWAYS GET THE BLEH GIFTS?) And what part of “bring a DVD you like” do people misunderstand?

What I figure happened is that whomever brought this DVD forgot until the day of the party and hurried down to the bookstore and grabbed from the small selection there. And it’s fine, I guess. I mean it is only $5 and I could be able to give the DVD to my nephew at some point. But there is the fact that we were supposed to bring movies we liked and/or wanted to watch. And I really don’t think anyone in my department was going to be popping up some popcorn and settling in for a night of enjoyment watching “Really Wooly Kids.”

I’m just saying.