That’s what I love.  I learned something, so dear my heart literally grabbed hold of it hungry and keeps going back to eat more.  I learned that this verse in Micah 7…..”though I have fallen, I will rise.”  That word?  Fallen?  It means “a violent or accidental circumstance or event.”  It jolted truth like lightning through me as I read it again and again…..”hope” whispered echoey in my mind over and over.

This year I fell accidental and it felt violent.  I know it accidental because my heart has never been more pure, more listening to Him.  I cared more deeply for another than for myself and I felt cuts on my skin when I wrapped my arms around him, literally and figuratively. I knew my heart was vulnerable. His wounds wounded me.  But He said “abide, stay.”  So I did.  And then day, one awful moment I took my eyes off of Him, I shut my ears to His whisper.  And I sinned.  I fell.  Violent and accidental.  I never meant to hurt.  I never meant to hurt.  I never meant to……..and I ran out of breath and words.

It’s not really Stollen….in the truest sense of the word,  but I liked the play on words so Stollen is what you get.  It’s a coffee cake…..a cream cheese coffee cake I found in one of those slick Christian women’s magazines that I used to read to try and figure out how to be one.  I had just had my first child, my Caleb, and he was three months old and Christmas had suddenly taken a turn for the magical.  I began a tradition that year of making my own Christmas cards; one I handed over to the kids as soon as they could create something with a crayon.  That year I bought an ink pad green and stamped Caleb’s foot over 50 times onto the blank white card stock.  I glued a tiny red ribbon onto the big toe….”This Christmas, be thankful for the little things”, I quipped proud.  Martha Stewart would have awarded me Something of the Year.

This particular afternoon, as Caleb lay sleeping tight on my lap, I found the recipe.  And that day, unbeknownst to me then, a legacy was formed.  I have made that coffee cake every year since, during the holidays.  At first the consistency of cream cheese was more than my little ones could handle but as their taste buds grew common sense, I had to make two just to satisfy the natives.  My kids will tell you one of their fondest memories is waking up on Christmas morning to the sound of me busy in the kitchen making exactly what they had come to expect.  And, as legacy works, I have made that coffee cake since for others I have loved, as have my older girls, calling from far away for the magic recipe.

This year, though, this year is different.  It’s just Naomi and I at home on Christmas morning.  Three of my six are miles away, one nurturing her new little one, one preparing to move back to home ground nearby next month and one having made his trek at Thanksgiving time.  My Caleb, now 27 and preparing for his two year adventure in Africa, has invited us to his place for brunch this year.  As a mama, it’s a good and wise thing to let the reigns fall out of your hands with grace.  I seize the warmth of having my boy take his turn.

So, this Christmas morning, I will share brunch, prepared for us by my boy who makes me proud,  with my three kids yet still here.  And I will bring cream cheese coffee cake.  Because it is a stolen moment for my hearts’ memory.