Learning the London Walk

As a visitor to England, I have taken hundreds of shots throughout London of me smiling standing in front of famous landmarks, but nothing compares to working with an artist who has a vision and then getting to be the “it” girl for an afternoon.

I swapped photo shoots with Gareth Barton as I recently met his family at my church here in England. (Their shoot to come later on the blog!)

He told me I had plenty of “cute and nice” pictures, but he wanted to evoke an emotion with mine. Tell a different side of Lani, so to speak. My safe side screamed a bit for a sunset and plaid shirt. So as we discussed the vision of what we wanted my shoot to look like, he sent me this photo of Brigitte Bardot, and that became our vision – a Vogue inspired shoot of me owning the streets of London.

Wardrobe quickly became all about the trench coat, sunglasses, and ohhh the shoes!  He is a true artist with his work. For him, it is all about getting that one photo and making it great.

This past Sunday, I became the model in London chased by the paparazzi. I was the girl with a tan trench coat and Ray Bans whom everyone was looking at wondering if they should know who I am.

We started in Notting Hill on Portobello Road (For Hugh Grant fans, think of the opening scene of Notting Hill – we were on that street!). As Gareth assessed the best storefront for the shot, we lucked out with crowds and a scooter.

Where does a model change when she is in the middle of London and there are few loos to be found? Of course a back alley that says Private Entrance. I changed from my jeans to short skirt, baring my nylon legs below my trench, while looking over my shoulder to see if anyone was watching. I messed up my hair, touched up the glossy lips, and we were off for several takes of left leg in front of right, hair in front of eyes, and an attitude that said “Do you know who I am? If not, you should!”

Portobello Road is full of the best antique shops, pubs, fruit markets and clothing shops such as All Saints and Cath Kidston. The cost of living in such an area would be extreme, with all the white washed Georgian houses. Again, picture the movies and it really is all that.

After Notting Hill we fueled up with a Starbucks and headed to another “market” area of London, but this one much different. Camden Market. When you come out of the tube on a Sunday in Camden Market you can expect shoulder to shoulder people, guys standing on the side of the street with signs pointing to the best tattoo and ear piercing parlours, and techno music pounding in your ears. Here you will find that guy who is making a statement with half a bald head and dreads and 12 piercings in his face. You will find the guy selling the bird calling whistle and every smell you can imagine.

On my right Cyberdog was blasting techno music and inviting us to discover the space outfits inside, and on my left, there was a Moroccan restaurant with several bongs under a tent out front and people getting high. In London – the world truly meets; but come to Camden Market and you will see things this prairie girl never knew existed.  So again, we found the right alley, meanwhile I was trying not to shop and oooo and ahhh over the vintage jewelry and leather bags!

I learned that to criss-cross my legs with attitude on cobbled streets and 3” heels is not easy. Especially with people stopping everywhere, wondering if they should be asking for my autograph! I walked by one guys’ stand of scarves so many times that half way through I noticed he had his iPhone out taking pictures.

Someday, I will show my kids these photos and tell them, “Kids, that was when Mommy went to London to live a dream. That was where Mommy learned to walk her own walk. And when you do it with confidence and grace, no one will know you’re just a girl from the prairies living an adventure!”

Thank you Gareth Barton for the wonderful memories these photos will be for me!

Find your Flourish on Friday

On occasion I see photos or quotes that I wished I had been the one to capture or write. And now, aaahhh, Pinterest!! For today, I thought I would share what inspired me in between writing, baking, coffee drinking and hanging laundry.

A tribute to any woman that will read this….
Remember who you are. You’re an original. Find where you flourish and revel in that. Because no one else can, or will, do it quite like you.

We don’t need anyone’s approval to be ourselves

Could it also perhaps be said that, “With brave wings she tries?”
Tries to follow her heart. Tries to be honest. Tries to dare, dream, risk and love with all her heart.

And never ever ever forget…

Happy friday everyone!

~ Lani

Tea Room – Just like Grandma’s

Remember when you used to go to Grandma’s for cake and tea, and perhaps a game of cards? I do.
I would always get way more than I asked for, plus lots of hugs.
And now, I am working in a tea room in England that looks a lot like that – going to Grandma’s for tea.

There’s been a lot of good response in this community. I hear common phrases such as,
“It’s not a franchise like that Starbucks!” or “You can get a proper cup of tea here!”
Sure, the general demographic tends to be over 70 with crowned teeth and a cane, but I am loving it. I am loving the people I get to meet.
I am loving the questions like, “Where are you from?” and “Do you have decaf?”

You can come for afternoon tea, scones and fresh looseleaf tea from Poland, or delicious homemade sandwiches!

If there are lulls between customers (which are few and far between!) I ask two of my coworkers to teach me Lithuanian.
It’s all about the roll of the “rrrrrr” from what I can tell!
Labas! Kaip tu! (Hello! How are you?)

Yet again, another experience I am thankful for!

In case you’re wondering, we do have some fantastic coffee as well

(Disclaimer: These photos were taken during a lull. At lunch time, we have to turn people away at the door as we are so full!)

Crumpled notes from Daddy

It’s a crumpled up piece of paper worn thin from years of being used as a bookmark or stuffed in random books. It has several colors of ink and a couple different types of handwriting. One is my Dad’s beautiful script, and one is my scribbles from when I was a little girl.

I have had this piece of paper stuffed in my Bible for a long time, and just the other day actually tried to decipher what notes my Dad had written.  I’ve scribbled all over his paper with random hearts, “I love you.”

As I was curled up in bed the other night, ready to bid adieu to the damp English eve, I pondered this scribble piece of paper. The title reads, “The Basics of Trusteeship”.

I have been writing down thoughts and wants for 2012. As I studied this sheet of paper two sentences my Dad wrote on this worn sheet some 25 years ago, jumped out at me, “Be sure and look at your mandate. Know your authority.”

Notes from my Dad’s (aka… Daddio) paper years ago were what I needed to hear in that moment. So what did that mean to me?

For 2012, be sure and look at YOUR mandate. Not someone else’s. What is YOUR purpose?  Remember who you are and walk boldly  in that.

I had literally JUST asked God for something to lead this year off, and moments later I found this worn note in my Bible. I took it as Jesus knowing exactly what I needed in that moment.

So this goes out to all you daughters. Whether your Daddy is still in the picture of your life, or not – you are still a daughter. I know for certain that God would love to give you a hug to jumpstart your year. Or, jumpstart your life.

Some of us daughters like pretty things right down to the shoes, handbag and dress all to be matching.

Some of us prefer to rustle up the cattle on horseback and ride off into the sunset. Of course, we would have our own horse.

Some would rather sit by a campfire with our guitar and friends until all we see is the starry night sky and embers of a once-there-fire.

Some of us have babies. Some of us have found the love of our life. And some of us are happily single and open to Mr. Perfect-For-Me if he comes along.

And some of us daughters, might need a word from our God to jump start the year. Well, I can guarantee, if you ask, He will answer.

Daughter to daughter, we’ve got what it takes to make 2012 amazing!

Be sure to look at your mandate. Know your authority.

 

A lesson learned from across the pond

As seen in today’s Red Deer Express

Lani Ledingham learns the joys of gratitude through overseas experiences

The sound of the engine held a tin-like roar as our economy airplane flew over the prairies. It was in the heat of the summer of 2000 and my sister and I, in our country girl naivety, commented on the size of the hay bales and how small they looked from the sky. It was our first time flying and the nine others on our team laughed good-naturedly at our awe of something that seemed so minute. But to us, it was amazing and worthy of our captivated glance.

We were on our way to Mexico for a missions trip to volunteer at an orphanage.  It was the first time I saw the ocean, danced in the salty coolness with ice cream in hand, and delighted as the sun set over the Pacific. I managed to escape the diarrhea and sickness some of the others experienced, however I did catch something – the travel bug. Since then I’ve had the privilege to explore Europe, the United Kingdom, Caribbean islands, and various parts of the United States and Canada. And now, 12 years after my first flight, I find myself living in England on a working holiday.

I turned 30 at the beginning of 2011 and knew in my heart that it was meant to be a big year. Something important would happen. Or… at least should happen. What that looked like, I wasn’t fully certain. But after a few months into the year I became aware of the itching desire for an adventure and needed to unbind myself of any chains of mediocrity. My relationship status had changed on Facebook (you know it’s not official until….), and by God’s grace I was able to clear any debt I had, and I pursued “that” conversation with my boss about making changes in my life. It was with tears that I gave up a very comfortable and good job for the risk that maybe, just maybe, there was something more, or different, for me in the next season of life.

Thus began a journey of uncertainty and anticipation.

In the past four months I have travelled various parts of England from the north, south, east and west. I’ve enjoyed Rome and Prague with a good friend. I’ve worked in a bookshop in the height of the Christmas season and managed to come out unscathed from my lack of knowledge of current authors and chefs. Perhaps before I return to Canada, there will be more cities to explore.

In late November my friend Penny and I were walking along a cobbled street in Prague, bundled up to our ears with woolly warmness. Map in hand and trying to figure out where we were, we came across a towering arch with a clock at the top.  It was old, darkened by years of weather and trauma, and held a majestic authority, as though every other building in the square should respect it.

I looked up and said, “I hope I never get used to seeing something like that.” To my friend who has been surrounded by such buildings her whole life and where history dating back 1000 years is fairly normal, it wasn’t as big of a deal. But for me, coming from a country and province that is still quite young, it was amazing.

I am reminded of that delight and excitement of a 19 year old discovering the joy of flight for the first time. I don’t ever want to look at something that once caused awe and amazement and count it as common. Ordinary. Or of all things, not even notice it anymore.

Being this far from home, and after having my first Christmas away from my family, I feel a new awe and thankfulness at what I have been given in life.

I recently read a quote on Twitter by Jim Carrey and it went something like, “I hope people get rich and famous and get everything they ever wanted and then realize it’s not the answer.”

As I develop my photography, I have come to notice details in buildings, people and now in the oddest of places will see beauty. But, had I not stopped to look for it, I may never have discovered it. You see, there are idyllic spots all over the world, you just have to notice them.  It could be found in the park you always go to with your kids. That café you frequent may have a painting you’ve never noticed that will captivate the emotion you couldn’t quite put into words. The people in our every day life could have the most amazing qualities and stories, if we just feed the awe factor.

If travelling and experiencing a different culture has shown me anything it’s that I need to live AND love the life I live. I want to be thankful for every detail and person, every kink that hasn’t yet straightened, and adore every imperfect situation for what it is.

Whether it’s from the window of an airplane looming through a prairie sky, the stained glass of a 500 year-old church, or the backseat of a VW bug, I bet there is some window waiting for an awe moment.

Perhaps it’s from your front door?

 

Hello 30. Good Bye 2011

When I was 16 years old a Christian singing group called Morning Star came through my hometown for a few days of Vacation Bible School and concerts. There was a guy named George who was 23 and, I’m telling you, I thought he was the bomb! Well, at that time the phrase, “You’re the bomb” hadn’t yet been coined, but I thought he was so cute! Picture a 1990’s Tom Cruise dressed as your high school English teacher and that’s what George was.  Back then 23 seemed so old! I had visions of him pursuing and us running off to create our own morning star. *ahem* I never saw him again.

Somehow I have raced past my own 23 and am almost done my 30^th year. How did that happen?

Every year in between Christmas and New Years Eve I reflect on the year – the good, the bad, the unexpected and the chosen. As my final blog for the year, I wanted to share some of the moments that stick out for me from 2011. In true Lani style, it will be vulnerable in hopes of stirring you, my reader, to some sort of action in your own life.

On my 30^th birthday in February it rained. Yes, that would be a night to go down in history where we couldn’t go sledding because of rain.

This year I learned more about following my instincts and trust that feeling in my gut when something doesn’t seem right. Rather than toss it aside as being too much of ‘something’, it is actually wisdom trying to rise up.

I had the honor to journey with five brides and grooms on their wedding day as their photographer. I cuddled a few newborn babies and captured their freshness. Directing kids in country fields to smile sweetly and prodding lovebirds to kiss while an old man is off peeing in the bush down yonder …. Yes, that was my “night job”.

At my day job in PR, I tackled opportunities to learn new skills like shooting and editing videos. I must say, that could be a side revisited in the future.

I was reminded that I am nothing without Jesus and His Word really is my breath, my step, and my light to walk boldly aright on my own path.

I watched my sister fall in love. My brother has met a wonderful girl. And my Mom and Dad got new rings for each other for Christmas. Tears. I love my family.

I have got to experience more of English, Italian and Czech culture.

I watched countless movies and walked out of at least one, and the one that sticks with me the most right now is… drum roll … Marley and Me. I know, I know, the dog dies. How could that be the one that sticks? Well, aside from the fact that I was bawling near the end, perhaps because it was watched most recently. Or perhaps because it reminded me that I really do want to raise a family of my own someday – a family that sticks together through all the changes of life.  That yes, I really do still want that Golden Retriever some day. That perhaps I too tend to be like Owen Wilson’s character and often want something I don’t have.  And if you know me at all, you know that I am a hopeful romantic that will choose a romantic comedy or deep drama over an action film any day, don’t even ask.
But today, this day, I see myself living exactly the life I chose. A life sold out to God and His purpose for me, whatever that looks like. A life that I hope welcomes the right people in and says, “Sorry, not for me.” to the wrong ones. A life that tries, risks, laughs and rests. A life that seeks to embrace each moment, whether it stings or pulses with joy. A life that for a season is away from those closest to me so that I can return home with fresh vision and begin a new chapter. And while that is really hard some days (for me and them), I did choose this.

This year, my 30^th, I got out of debt (mortgage aside). I quit my job. Sold my car. Purged my closet.  Changed my mind about a few things that needed to be changed. Said good-bye to familiarity in the hopes of what could be. I have learned that no matter how many experiences or new things come into my life, contentment is a choice.

I read a blog by Justin and Mary Marantz (American photographers) this week about following your dream that really sums up, well, my year.

“You may have to go all the way across the country to remember that you wanted to be home. The dream itself might change. The list you keep may grow. But remember why you got started in the first place. And just keep coming back to that. Because no matter how far off it feels right now, one day very soon you may just blink….open your eyes. And realize you have everything you ever wanted staring you in the face. And trust me, you don’t want to miss that. 

And so, I blink.

As the closing of the book of 2011 draws nigh, I can look around me and see that my dream is actually my reality. Has my dream changed from five years ago? Yes, it has. But the core of it – to create and contribute – has not.  I hope in 2012 I can add on to both of those “c’s” to create and contribute multiples times more.

I am beyond thankful for the experiences, places and people that have graced this year with their touch.  To the people who helped me get the answers to my questions, thank you. To the people who pushed me to ask the questions in the first place, thank you. And to the people who cheered me on in search of it all, thank you.

Now before this sounds like an Oscar speech and the music starts to tune me out, I have to get out the words, “Thank you Jesus!” Thank You for the life I get to live. Thank you for choosing me for this one. I hope I do You proud.

Let’s rock 2012.

My English Christmas

I don’t know how many times since being in England I have asked others, or myself, “Is this cultural or personal?” As I asked colleagues at the bookshop what they were doing for Christmas the resounding theme was to spend it with family and eat lots of food. That seemed fairly similar to my experiences.

However, some observations of differences have been:

~ I haven’t heard much of Santa Claus, but Father Christmas.
~ Instead of cookies and milk left out for said Santa, they would leave a mince pie, a carrot and some sherry for “the visitor”.
~ Most churches hold a Christmas eve and Christmas morning service, whether it’s a Sunday or not.
~ It’s tradition to awake Christmas morning with a heavy stocking laying at the foot of your bed. In my family (and many I know back home in Canada) the stockings go on a mantle or fireplace or banister of sorts). We opened the stocking (me and my host couple) in bed that morning with “oooohhs” and “aaaaahs”.
~ The meal I enjoyed had roast potatoes rather than what we would do – creamy mashed potatoes! The table also had “pigs in a blanket” (sausages wrapped in bacon), bread sauce, and for dessert we had mince pies, Christmas pudding and lime jelly – my family would have pies and cakes.

It was my first Christmas alone and it reiterated to me that while there are loads of new experiences you can have in life, without those you love the most to share it with, it’s just not the same. I was so blessed to be welcomed into an amazing family of six – two loving parents, four kids (two of which are married).  They even got me a present! I observed a lot of how the parents and kids related (I do that with family dynamics so beware ) and there was a strong thread of love and respect throughout their family tapestry.

But now, let’s go back to what I personally experienced for my English Christmas. I live with a wonderful couple named Philip and Verity. I worked at the bookshop during the day Christmas eve (Sidenote: I held no pity but only chuckles for those frantically looking for gifts at 3:30pm on Christmas eve!) That evening Philip and Verity had invited some close friends over for their traditional Christmas Eve High Tea. Verity had prepared meats and cheese of all sorts, made fresh scones and mince pies, raspberry jelly, fresh veg for dipping, and breads of many flavours, and of course, tea. We enjoyed by candlelight the lovely spread before us.

I snuck away for some Skype love with my sister, her fiancé, and my parents, before heading off to Christmas Eve service at 11pm. Some tears were had as we opened gifts in front of the computer (Okay, maybe those tears were just mine!). Being this far from home has made me appreciate that much more the life God has given me back home.

Christmas morning I awoke with something heavy on my feet. Verity had joyously prepared a stocking for me. Each tiny package was wrapped, thus making the opening that much more fun. I went to their room with my stocking and we all had coffee and stocking time together.

After that, it was a rush to get pretty before heading to the county of Kent to a town named West Wickham for Christmas morning church service and to meet Verity’s brother and his family.  Kent is just south of Essex where I live so that requires driving through many roundabouts, over the Thames river, past the toll bridge on the M25 and eventually we got there! As we turned up the hill towards the church the sight before us was idyllic. At the top of the hill was an old church built in 1490 (the new part was only 250 years old mind you. I know, “New?!” ) and below the church on the grassy slope were three horses grazing. It wasn’t a white Christmas. It was a very green Christmas.

We parked the car, hopped out, and the sound of the church bells ringing on Christmas morning brought a smile to my face. It’s one of those sounds that will always stay with me forever. The church has a new Vicar, a young gentleman, and the worship team (with piano, drums and violin) sang a compilation of Christmas melodies and newer worship songs. There were young families and older couples. It was quite different than I expected – modern life held inside a church that was over 500 years old!

Back at Verity’s brother’s house I got to meet the family and, like I said, did observing and my usual “21 questions”. If you ever meet me, I will likely ask you a lot of questions. Just sayin’. We had tea and visiting until dinner was ready around 2pm. Turkey, stuffing, roast potatoes and everything I mentioned earlier. But before we dove into our plate of goodness, we opened our crackers and dawned our crowns. We each had to say what our craker joke was and every time, whether the joke was funny or not, there was a resounding “Ohhhhhhhh” around the table. I was placed between Nanna and Warwick, the eldest brother. It was a lovely time had by all and I wished that I had been feeling better (something in my diet lately is not liking me!).

After dinner and before “pudding” we watched the Queen’s speech which is on BBC every Christmas Day at 3pm. The Queen gave a message of hope, forgiveness and straight up Gospel. The English in the house thought it was one of her best. We then had Christmas pudding, more tea, mince pies and lime jelly. This family has started a tradition that goes back many years called, “Burp the Jelly”. It must be lime flavoured and before the jelly is shared, someone must take a big spoon and lift the jelly carefully, thus causing a sort of “burping” sound. The bigger the burp, the bigger the applause. THAT was personal, not English

At one point I went out on the deck with Verity’s brother and nephew to take a look at their view over the town. It was lush green and spotted with fields of white houses and brick. Her brother told me that the church we were in that morning was likely visited by Anne Boleyn (one of Henry VIII 8 wives) at one point as her cousins lived in the area. When I told him how different it was to have a green Christmas and that I have had a brown Christmas and a white Christmas, but never a green Christmas, he chuckled and said, “I’ve never heard of a brown Christmas!” You see, it’s always green in England. The grass never dies. Some trees and shrubs keep their leaves. So no matter how grey and dull the sky can get, the ground always looks fresh.

We eventually got to gift opening and that took hours. This was probably the point where I missed my family the most as our gift opening is usually silly and brings the most laughs of any time of our day. Random comments like, “Oh, that was meant for someone else!” or  “Sorry, I was on drugs when I wrapped that.” Or “Disappointed?” It still makes me laugh to think of last year when my Dad had just got out of the hospital for kidney stones and couldn’t totally remember what he had bought everyone.

Some games, laughs and more tea was had and we were home by 1am. It was a different Christmas for me – a new experience. The creative type like me needs and loves new experiences. Change is inevitable. This was an idyllic experience. However, I still think that there are some things in life where sameness and tradition are best. Watching this family love and relate to each other is exactly what Christmas should look like.

I hope you had a wonderful Christmas with family and look forward to 2012 with anticipation of great things to come!

Ode to Family at Christmas

Growing up in a small rural community on the prairies meant we got our turkey and fixings from the main street grocer. The clerk knew our name and even had a “tab” for each family in the community. Christmas concerts would commence at church and school, we would do the silly $5 gift exchange, and then bid a warm Merry Christmas to our teachers, neighbours and family – who lived within miles from home. Thus would begin the merriment of a winter vacation on the farm, Mom’s sticky poppycock, old Christmas movie reruns, and the triple S factor: ski-dooing, sledding and skating. Childhood Christmas memories for me are filled with twinkling lights, loads of food, and crisp white snow waiting to be trodden.

Somewhere in my teen years Mom and I began dancing in the kitchen. I would take on the man’s lead while the kitchen floor became our stage. The harmonies were usually by the Statler Brothers and Bonny M, therefore a bouncy polka was discovered. My brother has since said that it doesn’t feel like Christmas until Mom and Lani have danced in the kitchen. (Side note…does anyone else agree that the kitchen is great for long talks while sprawled on the floor AND dancing, not just cooking?!)

Once the turkey was prepped and salads made on Christmas Eve, we’d join in the livingroom by the tree. Dad would usually read the Christmas story. My sister does a lot of the cooking and getting everyone together (thank you eldest sibling!). My brother makes me laugh until my stomach hurts. Somewhere in there a board game would appear.

Now as adults, Christmas has taken on a different shape. We’re sometimes miles a part and travel is required. This will be my first Christmas away from home as I am across the ocean. My sister and brother will both be bringing someone special home to the farm. Skype anyone? While I’m excited to experience an English Christmas, there is no place like home. I am so thankful for my family.

I guess things change as we grow up (ahem, I’m 30)… but I will always want to dance in the kitchen, curl up by the tree and read about Jesus, and laugh until my stomach hurts over silliness with my family.

So to my family, in the words of E.E. Cummings, I carry your heart, I carry it in my heart.

And wherever you find yourself, dear reader, I hope it is with family and those you love the most.
Watch it unfold. Take it all in. Keep a thankful heart. And be safe. Much love from me to you…. ~

She Said Yes

Mary sighed, wiped the loose strand of damp hair from her brow, and stood up to stretch her back. Washing the floors at such an early hour was best as she could see where the dirtiest spots were. The morning sun brought out the best and the worst in any situation, so she figured you might as well use it to your advantage.

She dropped the soiled cloth in the bucket, grabbed her cup of tea, and went outside to watch the sunrise.

Something feels different today. Maybe Joseph has a surprise for me!

Mary’s innocence and purity set her a part from the other girls in town.  She was honest without being rude, strong without being forceful, and kind without being a pushover. T’was the many reasons Joseph was so smitten with her. Their parents approved of their marriage, thankfully.

The tea was spicy, soothing her tired body as she smiled at the sun. She often took times like this alone to enjoy what God had designed for her to delight in. She may have been young, but she knew that life was a gift. This was her favourite time of day in Nazareth – when no one else was stirring about.

Mary went back inside, placed her teacup on the kitchen table, and kneeled down to finish cleaning the floor. The morning light suddenly got brighter and brighter and Mary momentarily lost sight of the dirty floor in front of her. Seconds later, a tall, handsome, white-robed figure stood before her. Smiling.

The stunned look on Mary’s face was evidence enough of surprise, so he spoke up.

“Greetings, favored woman! The Lord is with you!”

Mary’s mouth slightly agape, she looked left, then right, then up, and stood to stand in front of, well, an angel. She again wiped the stubborn loose strand from her brow.

Obviously disturbed, the angel continued.

“Don’t be afraid Mary. God has decided to bless you!! You will become pregnant and have a son, and you are to name him Jesus. He will be very great and will be called the Son of the Most High. The Lord God will give him the throne of his ancestor David. And he will reign over Israel forever, his kingdom will never end!”

Thinking the angel clearly didn’t know her, or her situation, she decided to point out the not-so-obvious.

“But….but….how can I have a baby? I am a virgin.”

Mary blushed.

“The Holy Spirit will come upon you and the power of the Most High will overshadow you. So the baby born to you will be holy, and he will be called the Son of God. For nothing is impossible with God!”

The angel smiled again.

It was a smile that commanded attention and calmed Mary at the same time.

Her heart beat faster. She had had no time to think about her decision. No time to pray and ask what her parents thought. At this very moment, all she relied on was what she knew of her relationship with her Father God. She knew she could trust Him.

“I am the Lord’s servant, and I am willing to accept whatever He wants. May everything you have said come true.”

And the angel left.

Mary’s legs began to wobble and she fell to her knees in front of the doorway.

What has just happened? And here I thought Joseph was going to surprise ME!

She could just imagine telling her fiancé. Um, honey, I’m pregnant. With God’s son.

The light returned to a normal Nazareth morning. But there was clearly nothing normal about what had just happened. If this was how Jesus was going to enter the world, then normal would not fit His life either.

But she, Mary, had said yes. And because of that, the impossible was about to become possible.

Unexpected. Out of the normal. And exactly according to God’s plan.

On bended knee, Mary looked again from left to right, wondered why no one could be a witness and verify what had just happened, and stood to her feet.

“I need some more tea.”

~ Authors note ~

Clearly this is a fictional take on a true event found in Luke 1….

But sometimes it’s wondeful to imagine the scene and remember that our Jesus entered this world through the obedience of a young woman… Just willing to say yes.

Merry Christmas to you all.

Let’s say yes, even if it doesn’t make sense, because the possible is waiting on the other side of yes!

This.Is.Love.

Its touch knows no boundaries; it fights to come in.
Fiercely devoted.
It would scour mountaintops and valley thrush to find you.
Never unseen.
No chains held or barred gates standing could withstand its power.
Spoken voice.
No wrong done or dark path trodden could be swept aside invisible.
It wants you.
No deed done or life lived upright could be worthy of its lavishness.
It just is.
It can see you when you can’t search anymore.
Never give up.
It can hold your head up and change the heart inside.
Life worth living.
It can see beyond today and past yesterday.
No separation.

It will leave you breathless and become your air.
It will fight for you, your life, your heart.
This. Is. Love.

by Lani Ledingham