I only began this blog at Thanksgiving and what fun and a blessing it has been. It has enabled me to connect with old friends and family members I had lost touch with (or didn't have enough touch with) and it has enabled me to meet new friends I would have never known.
I thank all of you for "checking in" from time to time. I love and appreciate the emails you send to me, the comments you leave and the fact that you enjoy all of the goings ons that we have going on in our lives. It is a great pleasure to share with you.
The best way I can imagine to finish out the year is with something that has truly changed my heart forever.
A few weeks back I asked you about creating Christmas instead of buying it. A gift from the heart. Not some gizmo or gadget that will soon disappear, but something that will last in the heart of your recipient forever. I asked if you would create an “open letter” to mothers. Share your experiences as a mother, thoughts of being a future mother, thoughts of your mother or a mother-figure in your life. To share your stories—no matter how raw or difficult. To share you concerns—no matter how foolish they may seem. To share your wisdom—no matter how you came by it. To share your mother story.
The letters came in. By email, by mail and hand delivered. I cannot thank you enough. The outpouring that was shown in the letters you submitted has touched my heart and the heart of soooo many others forever.
The enormity of this project, and all those who would contribute, was never imagined. I have received so many amazing letters. Letters that brought laughter, letters that brought tears of joy and sorrow, letters that inspired thought and letters that brought insight.
It has truly been an experience I will never forget..............and I thank all of you. Without you, this project would not have been possible.
When we are doing something that seems so small...............how can we ever imagine it will be so grand? It took each and every one of us. Piece by piece.......to make a difference. That is something to be reminded of in our every day life. It takes all of us...piece by piece....to make a difference.
Keep doing the small things...........you never know how grand they will be and how many lives they will touch. These letters in their quantity and quality or a true testament to that.
Following is the rest of the story. I hope you enjoying learning it and for those of you that contributed and have received your gift from me, I hope you find comfort, joy, insight and love in your reading of the letters. Whenever you pull them out think of the amazement of all of the people, many whom have never met, that came together for one moment that gave a piece of themselves, shared and united.
Happy New Year to Everyone! May 2009 hold many blessings, love and amazing surprises that we may not think of or necessarily want, but God knows we need!
With love,
Marnie
Written by Seth "the husband":
Christmas day of 2007 came and went. It was the typical American Christmas—gizmos, gadgets, whatnots, and an oversized helping of turkey. Two days and a transatlantic flight later I was standing in small Mozambican village regretfully pondering my extra helping of Christmas turkey and materialism. I decided that things would be different in 2008.
My wife and our extended families decided to give a Christmas present to that little village. We wanted to spread our wealth, meager as it may be. We decided to create presents for each other and donate the difference to our friends in the village.
And that is where you came in.
I purposed to create a Christmas present for my wife—the Mother Letter Project. Simply stated, I started collecting a series of “open letters” from mothers, to mothers. I asked for your stories— no matter how raw or difficult. I asked for your concerns—no matter how foolish they might seem. I asked for your wisdom—no matter how you came by it. I asked for your mother story.
I thought, perhaps, I could collect fifty letters; perhaps I could collect as many as one-hundred. I didn’t count on a little help from some very well read bloggers!
From there, the project took on a life of its own. You started submitting your letters. You posted about it on your blogs. You used Twitter to spread the word. Several people, including a dear woman named Marnie Johnson, collected letters from mothers in their social circles and forwarded them along (God bless your good work Marnie). You helped me compile over 500 letters for transmission to my wife!
And the best part? Because of your generosity, I have some difference to donate to that small Mozambican village.
The Charge
“What is left other than to read the letters,” you ask? Have you donated your Christmas difference? Have you found your charity?
Preliminarily, let me say that I love a good present. Is there anything innately wrong with material giving? No, I say. However, when the material obscures our recognition of the needs of others, we find our selves in a sort of out-of-whack mucky funk. I sincerely hope that you enjoy your presents this year—material or otherwise.
The Reveal (by Amber "the wife")
Dear Mothers (Past, Present, Future),
Seth put toilet paper in my stocking. We had run out of facial tissue, and he had foreseen my need to soak up some tears, so he put a half-used roll of toilet paper in my Christmas stocking. At the time, I didn’t see what there was to cry about (except this pitiful gift). I just knew that toilet paper had to be one step down from getting a sock of coal, and though I have thrown a few of my very own toddler tantrums, I figured some of my low-down mommyworks deserved fuzzy Minnetonkas and the two-toned watch I couldn’t buy in the same place I purchased my milk.
Do you hear that, Mommies?
The sound of ingratitude is deafening.
Most often, we don’t even know what we want – much less what we need. We are toddlers with a more refined taste. We want aprons from Anthropology. We want the perfectly functional family. We want planners with lists covered in checkmarks. We want clean houses that smell like exotic figs and hard kitchen-work. We want well-mannered children – who say “thank you.”
But oh how God flickers into the deep dark, how he ignites the fiery, thumping circuits, how he knows us fiber by fiber and holds us in a cup of time, how he sees so far, and his gifts are light-years in the coming. His thoughts toward me within such a scheme are nearly unbelievable, and His passing His love between us and running a long circuit of blood between us is hard to accept.
----------------------------
When I first met Seth, I loved him. After two weeks, compelled to scare him away sooner rather than later, I emptied all my old purses for him, all the things I struggled to give to God daily. I was a toddler, a wobbly milk-drinker, and he looked at me from one of those super Christian snow-like side-hugs, and he asked me if God hadn’t forgiven me and taken all that baggage from me, and I said yes, so he said, “I have nothing against you,” and he’s lived as if I never carried those old things. He treats me like I’m new.
-----------------------
When I sat in my sister’s lap to look at her computer for a few seconds (tricky!) and I began to realize the enormity of The Mother Letter Project. I nearly turned inside out. God’s kindness, Seth’s kindness, and your kindness, it is so hard to accept. I am not even a “Mother.” I’m just a regular ol’ “Mama.” But how can I not receive? After all, I do believe that grace is irresistible. I can read like a Mother, and as I do, I am accepting this beautiful fellowship with you, with my husband, and with my God.
Thank you, dear Mothers in heart and deed, for the word of your testimony. I have only been able to read your letters through my blurry mascara. You have changed my life. One of the sweetest parts has been remembering how swiftly and gently Kindness knocks us to our knees – the freedom in repentance.
King of Glory, You know full well how awful a pair of house-shoes would have been compared to this. You are concerned with the whole. You are self-sustaining, and I am sustained in You. Thank you that the “MLP Husband” is mine. Thank you that I get to be a “Mother” with these gorgeous women.
The Reveal (by Seth "the husband")
So, I thought I'd give you all my side of how it all went down.
On our way to Amber's Alabama home-place, I started to tell her that her present had not come together like I thought and that she probably wouldn't be receiving a gift on Christmas day. I told her that she could expect something later in December, or maybe January, or maybe... She hid her dissapointment well. She didn't know that I had devised a tricky play with her sister.
On Christmas morning, I biffed. I totally forgot about her stocking. As a last minute filler, I stuffed it with toffee (which was really no surprise since we had already eaten a half-tin) and a partial roll of toilet paper. When she opened it, she didn't see the need for the toilet paper. I mean, the toffee was really good but it was nothing to cry about. Again, she hid her deflation--barely.
About ten minutes later, her brother-in-law called and asked me to help him put together a Christmas present. If you know me, this is laughable--I am the least handy man in America. However, I agreed and Amber's sister asked Amber to come along. So, early on Christmas morning, we loaded up and made our way to the sister's house.
Amber's sister has recently acquired the internet, so upon arrival the sis said "hey Amber, come and look at these new facebook pictures." They cruised through facebook for a few minutes and then Erin said "what I really want you to see is this." It was Shannon's post. You know the post--the reveal post that told about the project and my real name and included Amber's name.
At first, she smiled just a little. Then, a tear formed. Then, as she kept reading, she started giggling. Then, full on gut-laughter. Then a tearful breakdown with much fanning of the hands and covering of the eyes. She said "hold on, I'm repenting"--I knew the toilet paper filler was bad, but I didn't think it was that bad.
She was absolutely beside herself.
And then, when the dust settled, we all made our way back to the homestead to eat our Christmas breakfast. And I think it was the best breakfast either of us had ever eaten.
Thank you again so much. Words can only go so far to express my gratitude. You are all heroes.
No comments:
Post a Comment