The first time the famous ‘shoebox’ technique was ever presented at our church, I KNEW I wanted to participate. Initially I couldn’t imagine how much could actually fit inside a single shoe box. I mean, the thought of filling a small shoebox with the types of things I considered for my own kids typical Christmas certainly would not fit. This would take some work. (Insert, false perceptions of first-world-mom probs). 

But as the years went on and my number of children increased, so did the distractions—and the temptation to surrender my soul to my calendar and numerous activities that come with raising a family. I often bought into the lies our culture sells, expressed through busyness, sports, and school commitments—all under the banner of being “well-rounded”—but it took its toll.

This summer, a momma bird built a nest in the planter on our front porch. Honestly, I was so annoyed. I’d heard that once a bird nests, she’ll return each year—and I didn’t love the idea of a porch ‘mess’ on repeat.

But it was too late. She was already here.