It sits on my shelf. High out of the reach of tiny hands and excessive preschool creativity. A tin can that was probably once full of chili beans, but now houses a rainbow of precious jewels:
My Sharpies.
They are special to me. They are a treat to use. And they are permanent.
She’s only allowed to use them in very special circumstances and under close adult supervision. And gosh, if The Boy ever got ahold of them we’d lose our deposit.
But sometimes… when I’m feeling especially generous… she looks up at me with those big blue eyes and asks if she may PLEASE use my Sharpies. And she promises a thousand promises that she would never in her lifetime be able to keep, but in her heart she wants to keep them. Just for a chance to feel the smooth grey plastic in her little hands and to watch the color pour itself out on a blank white canvas of scrap paper. And I say yes. And the world explodes in rainbows of joy.
So this morning there I was right in the middle of prayer group. Surrounded by women with damp eyes. And I start in asking for all of our hearts this holiday season (yours too, Mom). For us to not get distracted or disillusioned or destroyed by the daunting days ahead. The hustle and bustle and busy and buying. And just as I was asking Jesus for a double dose of Thanksgiving… there she was. Five inches from my face using her regular voice, because what four-year-old thinks you need to whisper to get Jesus to hear you?
And she split my holy holiday prayer in two with, “Mommy! I have to use the Sharpie.”
And it was one of those moments as a mom where you don’t really have time to think or the wherewithal to say ‘no’ or ‘yes’ or ‘let’s discuss the rules’ because I was in the middle of a prayer, for crying out loud! And not only that… a prayer for the holidays! And I needed to finish, because… why again?
So I said, “Ok. Just this once.” And she skipped off to systematically fill in an ENTIRE note card with black Sharpie.
But I noticed as I gathered my thoughts back together that they were all jumbled and wild and different now. Now they were rainbow-colored. Because dang those holidays have a way of bringing out the JOY in us.
And I prayed that this would be a Sharpie kind of holiday season for us all.
That we would say yes to Sharpies and brightly scribbled notecards even if it means blackened fingertips and marks on the fancy clothes.
I hoped that we would pull out our nicest dishes and use them from Thanksgiving to New Years… and perhaps even chip a few in the process. Just because they make the chipped family around the table look a little more lovable.
In my heart I prayed that we all would have fingerprints in our whipped cream and be missing a few olives out of the middle of the table when we went to sit down because we are just so incredibly blessed!
I hoped that at least one crumpled present would be covered in tape with the box showing through because it was wrapped by little hands.
I prayed that we would say yes to early presents and more cookies and slumber parties in the living room. I prayed that there would be laughter until our bellies hurt. That our faces would ache with smiles. And that NONE of it would be planned.
I dared to pray that there would be crooked Christmas trees and uneven decorations because these days a-coming are just too beautiful to worry about the little details.
We just have too much to be THANKFUL for and there is too much to CELEBRATE and there is too much to REJOICE about to hide all of our goodness on the top shelf.
This is a season of giving and generosity and love and cheer — not perfection. So dump out the Sharpies and roll out the butcher paper. Pour life and joy out all over your families and your friends. Your coworkers and your children. It might be imperfect, but it will always be beautiful.
After all, the holidays are special. They are a treat. They are special circumstances. And these memories are permanent. But if you need a reminder of that when you’re wading deep in Black Friday shopping and an overbooked calendar, write it down. Stick it in your purse. Put a post-it on your mirror. Hang it on your fridge.
And so you never, ever, ever, forget?
Use a Sharpie.
