Teaching long division is like going to the doctor for an amputation and finding out there are no numbing medications. I find myself often gazing at the wall, envisioning banging my head against it so that I can feel something other than fury and frustration. (Listen, I  know I need Jesus. I’m working on it.)
Since I know that bashing my head against the wall is not an option, I decide to swing the pendulum the other way and be super sweet and patient. That lasts for about 4.7 seconds and then I just give up.
Why is it so hard to remember something we learned so long ago? 

If only I could go back to fourth grade and sit in the back of the class while Mr. G taught two digit division, my life would be saved, and maybe I would have a few less wrinkles on my forward from thinking so hard.
But as usual, human nature gets a hold of me and I forget. 
This rings true in other areas of life, including much more important lessons.
Two years ago, I wrote a blog that you can see here. It recently popped up in some searching for an unrelated blog and when I saw a picture of Molly and Peter under the tree, I stopped.
It’s been no secret to my family and close friends that this season has been a difficult one so far for our family, but I think the average person wouldn’t have a clue that we are a little bit of a mess. OK. That is an understatement. I put money in stock for Kleenex this past week because we’ve gone through so many boxes I figure I should start making some money off of this.
Here, though, was a reminder of a lesson that was hand picked for me that I so foolishly forgot.
God knew.
God knew when Molly was born, on June 17, 2014, and on the day we received that train where we would all be this Christmas. Miles and dimensions apart, He knew that we would be struggling as we unpacked the train. When I opened ornaments that had Molly’s picture or was covered in glitter by her, He knew my heart would ache. And so, that is why on that day two years ago, He was teaching me to remember.
Remember the smile on her face as the train was assembled. Remember the giggles in the room as the girls watched it go around. Even though we don’t have it now the same way, we HAD it, and that is a precious, precious gift.
What is even more amazing is that on that day, He was already preparing my heart to have no more Christmas’s on earth with Molly. He was slowly introducing the truth to me so that I can begin my lifelong journey, how ever long that will be, not fully complete on Christmas.
There will be so many beautiful, fun memories ahead, I know, but I am so thankful for the ones we got as a family of five. Dancing like sugar plum fairies in the kitchen, being covered in frosting and stepping over thousands of sprinkles on the floor while decorating cookies, sitting around the Christmas tree, watching the train go round and round as we thank God for the hope of the season.
This is my lesson for today. 
At Christmas, He asks us to remember. 
Of course He wants us to remember Him first and foremost, wrapped up in the manager. Giving away his place on a royal throne to come to this dingy earth and serve us with the ultimate token of service… giving His life.
But I think He also finds it good for us to remember other things, such as the blessings of the year past. The joy of family. The hardships we came out of. The broken hearts that we face too. For from our  broken hearts we can find out more about who He is. What He wants from us. And what He is doing.
So today, as I pass our Christmas tree and see the many reminders and even when I am working on division for the hundredth time, I want to remember His grace that was supplied two years ago, and His grace that He supplies today.
Posted December 8, 2016

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