What's That Supposed to Mean?

Some of you might be surprised to hear that my soul has a mouth.

(Some of you are probably less surprised.)

It's the one part of me that is sarcasm-free. No quick-quips or witty retorts or skewing of the eyes/face of any kind.

And how it's survived this long, I'll never know. Maybe the rest of my being views it as the "runt" - part of the family, but smaller, weaker, slower, quieter (my brain reads: pathetic), but still, a part of the whole. And maybe the rest of my being gives it a break out of sympathy.

Gotta love family.

Very recently, say, about 7 minutes ago, I learned two things about my "runty" soul:

1. Sometimes it's upset, and that's...o...k.
2. It longs for meaning; to be meaningful; to do/share/love/create/hold/watch/be a part of something meaningful.

I know about the Elf on the Shelf story/personality that comes to life every Christmas. Now, it has never come to life in my house, but, oh...how the young girl inside of me craves it. The simple idea of waking up to a surprise every morning lights a fire of anticipation in my eyes. And, gasp, add to that the magic of Christmas and you, my friend, have a very tall, very squeal-y, girl on your hands (me).

I think I would like to "elf" my shelves this year for my very tall, less squeal-y, boy. But I have committed to incorporating Bible verses and/or Christian Christmas carol lyrics into every day. We don't "do" Santa, but {FUN} is something I plan to squeeze the heck out of into a festive bowl, mix with the gift of our Savior and a dash of cinnamon (naturally) and enjoy every last drop.

Volunteering is also something that tugs at my heart constantly. Don't ask me about the animal shelter...well, since you brought it up. I can't go there. Like, I have a desperate need to go there...but I can't. If the shelter was looking for a volunteer "Dog Smuggler" or "Hug Them 'Til Their Eyes Pop Coordinator" or "Cryer", then I would probably have a paid corporate position by now. Want to. Can't.

The Mustard Seed thrift store has extended volunteer hours as the Christmas season approaches. The store closes, but the volunteers are invited to bring snacks to share and then get to spend a couple hours plowing head-long into Christmas itself. Box after box of puffy snowmen, twinkling lights, and proud Christmas trees, all waiting for that perfect little price tag that will make them a cheerful addition to a new home. The food and fellowship is, without a doubt, one of the best parts of each night. Eric and I used to go when he was little, and he'd play and play with the toys and games while I tackled tote after tote of lights. An evening too perfect for words.

RACKing people might also be on the To-Do list this year. It's not as illegal as it sounds: Random Acts of Christmas Kindness. You know, feeding meters, buying someone's coffee, putting $ towards someone's layaway, etc. Anything to bring some of that "little squealing girl" magic to someone else's life.

And to show my baby how to live outside himself. How blessing someone else will, inevitably, bless him. And to get my own soul to pipe-down.

Like I need more voices to listen to.