Friday, December 31, 2004
"A new year may bring anything."
Now be honest... How many of you read that sentence and imagined something negative? I hope not too many.
Last December 31st I'd never even heard the world 'blog' before. Imagine! And yet now this blog has become a large part of my Monday through Sunday life. And I find myself caring for the 60.3 of you who read my words daily--I care that I put down something worth reading, something worth chewing on during the day's remaining hours.
Who knows what a new year may bring? I have a feeling this year will bring enormous changes for me. Naomi is forming plans to get married in February... Tom and I are forming plans to move back across the United States, meaning we'll be separated from Naomi for the first time in 25 years. Huge changes!
But I've learned you have to move with God or get left behind in a stagnant pool. Whether that means moving all your household goods or just stepping outside to introduce yourself to your neighbor. I've also discovered wherever God goes, the air is like deep, lasting joy. It permeates everything, and everyone, you touch. You discover new paths which take you to new places. Like this very good place where I now live.
And like this very good place called Blogland.
For each of us, bloggers and readers of blogs, this new year will bring new paths, new people, new experiences. The excitement of the journey, though, is spoiled if we travel afraid. Or, heaven forbid, with a mind which resents new things.
"This is what the Lord says...'Forget the former things; do not dwell on the past. See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not perceive it? I am making a way in the desert and streams in the wasteland.'"- Isaiah 43:16,18,19
Thursday, December 30, 2004
It's times like these--with so many tragic deaths from the huge Tsunami-- that I reaffirm my resolve to always live ready.
Live ready to live fully.
Live ready to die.
Live ready to go.
Live ready to stay.
Live ready to hold on.
Live ready to let go.
Live ready to share hope.
Live ready to share Jesus.
Rather like this:
“At that time the kingdom of heaven will be like ten virgins who took their lamps and went out to meet the bridegroom. Five of them were foolish and five were wise. The foolish ones took their lamps but did not take any oil with them. The wise, however, took oil in jars along with their lamps." Matthew 25:1-4
I want to live ready and not be taken by surprise. It's always too late to get ready after the time of change has arrived.
"Living life with an open hand attracts blessings which would be skittish as birds if grabbed and caged for selfish reasons."
Wednesday, December 29, 2004
It is a historic day in my life.
Tom came home from the doctor's office around noon. He'd gone in because his hips were hurting more than usual. I was outside shoveling snow when he drove into the carport, so he gave me something to carry into the house and said he'd be right in. Then inside, two minutes later, I heard a knocking at the door.
Odd, I thought.
Just outside of the door there lay Tom upon his back. He'd slipped on perhaps the tiniest bit of ice beneath our carport. That area is covered, I'd spread lots and lots of rock salt around--and still he slipped. He has fallen much too often lately (remember, he has that bum leg from polio).
Well, as I helped him stand up, I simultaneously let go of any dreams of remaining here in this lovely old town much longer. Neither Tom nor I can handle this well--this risking his bones every time he steps out the door each winter.
We've loved our eleven years here, our house and all the vintage homes around us. How wonderful living near two of the Great Lakes and tons of farmland and historic places. And Autumn! Mind-boggling with color.
But we can't take the snow anymore. Well, if I lived alone, I could. But I don't, so I can't.
We need to move to a place where it never, (or nearly never) snows. A place not too far from California where our relatives live. Oregon perhaps? Though a place where the sun shines more than the fog rolls. A place where old houses are respected and can still be found for less than $100,000 (they are everywhere here where we now live, so yes, they do still exist). A small, old-fashioned community.
If you know of such a place, tell us. The search has begun.
And we are trusting God and Grace to see us through this with joy. Somehow.
This will be a test, a huge one, but I've been preparing for tests. I believe in every day 'doing my homework' so that when the tests come--as they always do--I'll be ready. Well, I guess we'll see just how faithful I've been with the homework. How prepared I really am.
You live and you learn. Ideally, anyway, that's how it's supposed to work.
Grace helped me learn a few things.
If I'm watching the news and Grace isn't sitting beside me, oh my. I go down to sad, dark depths and wallow and dread the alarm clock. And I am no help to other people down in those sad, dark depths because I'm just as sad and dark as they are.
But if I hear Grace say, "Go ahead and watch the news. There is a specific reason I want you to, so I will bear you up under it," then I can watch and stay up in places of light to pray and do what I can.
Listening to Grace has kept me out of a heap of trouble.
If I am writing when Grace is here, my writing reflects her light. But oh dear. When I write while she is off in the other room, the writing is hard and my words cause a lot of flack with people.
And if I'm ucked away in a corner with God, basking, but Grace is standing at the sink waiting for me to wash a leaning tower of dishes, then the basking is not basking. It's more like, "Hmmm...where is God, anyway?"
(And that works the other way around, too.)
Grace is in on all the details. I love her to be there.
"I have received grace, he thought. What else could it be, although I don't understand it and cannot explain it. But why should I understand or explain it when I live by it." ... Mika Waltari, Finnish writer
Tuesday, December 28, 2004
Grace walks into the room and now I recognize her. I rise, smiling, and step over to greet her.
That wasn't always so. For years Grace was a vague, wispy somebody who came and went because I didn't understand her. I didn't know how much I needed her, nor how much I'd neglected her ever since God sent her to me.
But one day I woke up, and there she stood at the end of my bed, wordlessly inviting me to rise. Then all day long she walked beside me, helping me to do every chore-- and because of her presence, the chores became sweet. I no longer dreaded them, but anticipated them because Grace would be there with me, smiling and helping me to do what I could never do alone.
I even learned to recognize when Grace wanted me to watch the news and when she didn't. As long as I could pray for those in trouble and stay 'up', I knew Grace sat beside me. But when all the disasters clung to me, making me feel like a disaster, I knew Grace had stepped away, but I'd stayed anyway.
Grace could be stern. When I would try to do things, even good things, which God had told me to release, Grace would shake her head and back away. And when I'd stubbornly persist in doing those good things anyway, because I thought I "should," Grace left the room. And there I'd be without Grace's strength or light. Instead, I'd be back to struggling, trying to force that good thing to work. Joy disappeared and there was no flow from an oil of peace. No, just struggle and obligation remained.
And finally, through the hallways of Time and Experience, I learned to recognize Grace. When she was beside me and when she wasn't. I discovered a good thing is no longer a good thing if Grace is not helping me with it. I learned I am in the wrong place if Grace is not there.
With Grace, I can do anything, and do it with peace and tranquility. Without her, Life is cruel.
And now when Grace walks into the room, I run up to her and we leave together, smiling smiles of courage, to change this weary world.
Monday, December 27, 2004
Whenever huge earthquakes happen, I am always reminded of Jesus' words from Luke 21.
This morning? Like reading the front page of the newspaper. I find them fascinating, especially the parts where He tells us to make up our mind not to worry, to stand firm and not to let our heart be weighed down by the anxieties of life. If we desire to comfort others, we cannot be despairing, ourselves.
Here are those verses....Again, I find them exciting, especially since they were written so long ago.
Luke 21:10 Then he said to them: “Nation will rise against nation, and kingdom against kingdom. There will be great earthquakes, famines and pestilences in various places, and fearful events and great signs from heaven.
“But before all this, they will lay hands on you and persecute you. They will deliver you to synagogues and prisons, and you will be brought before kings and governors, and all on account of my name. This will result in your being witnesses to them. But make up your mind not to worry beforehand how you will defend yourselves. For I will give you words and wisdom that none of your adversaries will be able to resist or contradict. You will be betrayed even by parents, brothers, relatives and friends, and they will put some of you to death.All men will hate you because of me. But not a hair of your head will perish. By standing firm you will gain life.
“When you see Jerusalem being surrounded by armies, you will know that its desolation is near. Then let those who are in Judea flee to the mountains, let those in the city get out, and let those in the country not enter the city. For this is the time of punishment in fulfillment of all that has been written. How dreadful it will be in those days for pregnant women and nursing mothers! There will be great distress in the land and wrath against this people. They will fall by the sword and will be taken as prisoners to all the nations. Jerusalem will be trampled on by the Gentiles until the times of the Gentiles are fulfilled.
“There will be signs in the sun, moon and stars. On the earth, nations will be in anguish and perplexity at the roaring and tossing of the sea. Men will faint from terror, apprehensive of what is coming on the world, for the heavenly bodies will be shaken. At that time they will see the Son of Man coming in a cloud with power and great glory. When these things begin to take place, stand up and lift up your heads, because your redemption is drawing near.”
He told them this parable: “Look at the fig tree and all the trees. When they sprout leaves, you can see for yourselves and know that summer is near. Even so, when you see these things happening, you know that the kingdom of God is near.
“I tell you the truth, this generation will certainly not pass away until all these things have happened. Heaven and earth will pass away, but my words will never pass away.
“Be careful, or your hearts will be weighed down with dissipation, drunkenness and the anxieties of life, and that day will close on you unexpectedly like a trap. For it will come upon all those who live on the face of the whole earth. Be always on the watch, and pray that you may be able to escape all that is about to happen, and that you may be able to stand before the Son of Man.”
Sunday, December 26, 2004
Tonight in my kitchen I was, for the 70th time, relishing this day, December 26th--the day after Christmas.
And suddenly the funniest picture popped into my head. I could see myself behind a podium in front of a large group of people. And raised in my hot little hands was a golden statue-- the "I Survived Christmas Award." You know, the coveted ISCA, which many of us aim for throughout each harried December.
And I began my acceptance speech with: "This award belongs to many people. First, I'd like to thank my family for putting-up with my many and varied holiday inadequacies. Thanks for your patience.
And I'd like to thank the makers of Christmas movies such as Prancer and It's a Wonderful Life. You kept me inspired and humming happy little songs while I shopped in crowded stores. And also, Larry and Balki, from Perfect Strangers: Thank-you for making me laugh through numerous viewings of both your old Christmas episodes while I baked pies and washed dishes.
I'd like to thank the makers of coffee for the quick afternoon boosts to keep me going and Amazon.com for making shopping online a peaceful and easy reality. And for the inventor of Christmas gift bags--bless you!
And to my fellow bloggers and online friends I'm grateful for them reminding me to keep everything in perspective during this holy season and for telling me I'm not the only person who feels ambivalent about this whole Christmas celebration thing.
And most of all, I'd like to thank God for sending his Son, Jesus, as a baby into this dark world, as it says in God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen-- "to save us all from Satan’s power when we were gone astray. O tidings of comfort and joy..." Thanks for being my heart's reason to celebrate.
This award really belongs to each of you. Thank-you."
Saturday, December 25, 2004
Tom arrived home in the cold, dark morning hour of 7 a.m. He works at a power plant, in case I've never mentioned that, and he worked the graveyard shift last night, Christmas Eve. We had planned to open gifts, along with Naomi and Carl (Naomi's fiance), shortly after Tom's return home, then afterward he would go to bed and sleep all day. Naomi, Carl and I would hang out around the house. Then we'd have dinner around five o'clock.
Well, we had dinner around five, but that's about all that went according to plan.
First thing at 7, Tom decided he was too tired to stay up and open gifts and Naomi, who had a late night, agreed she'd rather go back to bed, herself. Reluctantly, I (wide awake) agreed that the four of us could wait until 3 p.m. to open gifts.
That meant, though, that I'd be pretty much alone for eight hours, while the whole world was opening their gifts and having a wonderful time. And years ago, I would have whined and complained in my head all day long, thereby spoiling the day.
But you know? I decided to have a wonderful time anyway. While watching The Snowman (you've missed something in life if you've not watched that), I opened a gift from my sister and a gift from my Gladys Taber online friend. I ate chocolate. Stepped through the snow when I gave the backyard birds their Christmas breakfast. Checked my email and wrote to a couple of you. Cleaned the house(quietly) and baked a pumpkin pie while watching the Christmas episode of Perfect Strangers (on video) in the kitchen for the 23rd time (at least).
The sun came out and glittered upon the snow, so I sat at the windows and watched the Christmas afternoon gleam and shine. I played with the cats. And then, it was time to slip the roast chicken into the oven and get Tom out of bed and ring the Titanic bell at the foot of the stairs as a signal for Naomi and Carl that the opening of gifts would commence.
And now, it's 7:30 p.m. and I'm alone, again, and for the night's remainder. Tom has returned to work another graveyard shift and Naomi left with Carl to visit Carl's family. She even took one of her cats with her, but there are plenty more cats to spare--don't worry.
And it's still a lovely Christmas. My fellow three family members gave me an incredible gift together-- an old-fashioned-looking combo unit which plays records, CD's, cassettes and has a radio, too. I've wanted one for years. Especially the record player, so I could play records and feel 10-years-old all over again.
And after they all left, I lugged this wonderful player from its box, hooked it up and brought out all the records we've found on the curb over the years. An old vintage boxed set, Magical World of Melody, is one I've been aching to play ever so long, with sides labeled like:
Mr. Show Business -- Irving Berlin
The Fascinating Rhythms of George Gershwin
The Sophisticated Moods of Cole Porter
The Sweetest Sounds of Richard Rogers
The Enchanted World of Debussy
--and so much more.
Oh my. I'll end this note to all of you then return back upstairs and dance alone beneath all my strings of tiny white lights. No, not alone, but with Jesus. To Clair de Lune, we will dance His birthday waltz. He's been with me all day long while the rest of my family was elsewhere. I've not felt alone even one minute.
And that has made all the difference.
Friday, December 24, 2004
It's Christmas Eve--the time is nearing to get brutally honest with myself. Ok, pretty darn honest, anyway.
While this month of December made many folks insane with the bustling, shopping, partying, egg-nogging, gift-wrapping, cookie-baking, running-- I ask myself, "How did I do?"
On the ol' December report card, what kinds of grades did I get?
Did I remember to stay calm? Did I recall the real reason for Christmas (Jesus) and take coffee breaks just to think about Him? Was I so tipsy on Christmas-doings that I neglected loved ones? Or did I overdose on the whole Christmas movies, Christmas songs, Christmas cards, Christmas shopping thing?
Hmmm. So ok-- I overdosed a bit. Got distracted. And another confession? I'm anticipating December 26th. A lot.
Ahh, December 26th! Don't laugh, but it's my favorite day of the year. Why? Because it's my personal Return to the normal I love so much. A natural, hour-by-hour type of 'Christmas' I enjoy 11 months out of the year.
But that last month--that December one. Oh dear, that's my personal test month. It severely tests all I have learned the previous eleven. I think I've become more patient this year--then December comes along. I'm sure I've become more peaceful, glad-minded, and trusting---then whoosh! December.
December shows me what is real--and what's faulty, faked or simply unfinished.
So hooray! December 26th is just two days away. I'll study my December report card then, for it's easier to view my grades when I am surrounded by the lovely, back to blessed Normal.
May you have a wonderful Jesus' birthday tomorrow...
"Examine and test and evaluate your own selves to see whether you are holding to your faith and showing the proper fruits of it."
...II Corinthians 13:5
Thursday, December 23, 2004
I'm not big on email forwards, but this one? Special.
Take Hold of Every Moment
A friend of mine opened his wife's underwear drawer and picked up a
"This, - he said - isn't any ordinary package."
He unwrapped the box and stared at both the silk paper and the box.
"She got this the first time we went to New York, 8 or 9 years ago. She
has never put it on; was saving it for a special occasion.
Well, I guess this is it. He got near the bed and placed the gift box
to the other clothing he was taking to the funeral house, his wife had
died. He turned to me and said:
"Never save something for a special occasion. Every day in your life is
I still think those words changed my life.
Now I read more and clean less.
I sit on the porch without worrying about anything.
I spend more time with my family, and less at work.
I understand that life should be a source of experience to be lived up
not survived through. I no longer keep anything. I use crystal glasses
day. I'll wear new clothes to go to the supermarket, if I feel like it.
I don't save my special perfume for special occasions, I use it whenever
I want to. The words "Someday..." and "One Day..." are fading away from my
dictionary. If it's worth seeing, listening or doing, I want to see, listen
or do it now. I don't know what my friend's wife would have done if she
she wouldn't be there the next morning, this nobody can tell. I think
might have called her relatives and closest friends
She might call old friends to make peace over past quarrels. I'd like to
think she would go out for Chinese, her favorite food. It's these small
things that I would regret not doing, if I knew my time had come.
I would regret it, because I would no longer see the friends I would
letters... letters that I wanted to write
"One of these days".
I would regret and feel sad, because I didn't say to my brothers and
daughters and sisters, not times enough at least, how much
I love them.
Now, I try not to delay, postpone or keep anything that could bring
and joy into our lives..
And, on each morning, I say to myself that this could be a special day..
Each day, each hour, each minute, is special.
Wednesday, December 22, 2004
On one of the listservs I belong to, a woman sent in such a sad email yesterday. She told us she'd had a very best friend since childhood and this friend now had two children, ages 13 and 10. She taught fourth grade and helped raise money in her community for someone with cancer. She was voted a model citizen for her town.
And this week, that woman committed suicide.
I can think of nothing sadder. It hit me hard, even though I've never even met either of these women.
It made me think of many things, among them--blogging. I've always felt like my blogging was a responsibility, but now I feel it even more. I asked myself, "If someone considering ending her life stumbled across my blog in a desperate search for a reason to keep breathing, what would she find here? Would she find a reason within my words not to hurt herself?"
With all my heart, I hope so.
And I will also add, as other women on our listserv added, too--if you ever consider taking your life, please--please!-- do not hesitate even one minute to ask for help. No one will consider it a bother to take you to a doctor. So many people are running around with undiagnosed chemical imbalances, stress overload or thyroid problems while imagining it's something so much worse--something worth taking their life. But nothing--absolutely nothing--is worth destroying the life God gave you.
God gives us life, but if we ask, He also gives us the hope, courage to face that life. And He gave us Jesus to walk us through it all as well as each other.
But things like too much stress, past tragedies or unkind people can blind us to the good, the Light, and make our world appear dark and hopeless. But it isn't. At least, not with an overcoming God beside us.
And at this time of year--this Christmas time-- we are reminded of the Light which God sent to this dark place to help us find our way. And that light was--and still is--Jesus.
When the world says, "Give up,"
Hope whispers, "Try it one more time."
Tuesday, December 21, 2004
Yesterday began like a "Christmas... Bah humbug!" kind of day.
Naomi got annoyed with Tom and me. We both got annoyed with her--and then we got annoyed with each other. Not a big, hairy kind of thing, but just enough to set the perfect day I'd had planned off the ol' train track and into a ditch.
And yet after you've reached your 40's, you stop expecting people and days to be perfect. And when you're really grown-up, you learn to enjoy life in the occasional ditch. You look around the walls and think, "Hmmm. Maybe this isn't so bad. Just needs a little light. A little decoration." Rather like when Linus says, "You know, I never thought this was such a bad little tree." And then all of Charlie Brown's friends gather together and make the tree beautiful. At least, as beautiful as that tree could ever possibly be.
That's a bit like what I did yesterday. Camped-out in my sunny yellow room with my lamp and books and a cat on my bed. Watched Prancer (yes, again). Read a little. And then Tom even brought me lunch which he'd gone out in the 12 degree F. weather to get me and we both apologized for letting small things annoy us so that we, in turn, get annoyed with each other.
But we still needed space, so he went back down to the computer and I ate my lunch in bed and watched The Honeymooners. Talked with God (listened, too). Took a little nap. Had popcorn for dinner. Later Tom came in and read the newspaper and we talked a little while.
And I was reminded that a day spent in a Derailed-Plan Train, in a ditch, can be peaceful. Can even turn into one of the best days of the year. Just depends upon my attitude while I'm sitting there.
"But I am sure that I have always thought of Christmas time, when it has come round...as a good time; a kind, forgiving, charitable, pleasant time; the only time I know of, in the long calendar of the year, when men and women seem by one consent to open their shut-up hearts freely."--Charles Dickens (A Christmas Carol)
Monday, December 20, 2004
I went surfing my blogroll this morning as usual and thought I'd bring back this delightful post about children for you. Enjoy.
Her post brought this to mind:
"You tear apart the baby's rattle and see what makes the noise inside, but there is a veil covering the unseen world which not the strongest man, nor even the united strength of all the strongest men that ever lived could tear apart. Only faith, poetry, love, romance, can push aside that curtain and view and picture the beauty and glory beyond. Is it all real? Ah, Virginia, in all this world there is nothing else real and abiding." ... Francis P. Church
I want no veils hiding from me all the beauty and glory beyond. Whatever is beautiful and from God--may I see it.
May cynicism never train my eyes to find the one wrong thing in an other-wise perfect room or situation. May negativity never blind me to what only the hopeful can see.
May I not give voice to a sad story when another person shares a happy one. May I not spoil another's joy.
May I anticipate more good things, not bad ones, when Life feels 'too good.'
May my imagination never creak to a stop due to rust caused by tears and inactivity.
May my good thoughts and words be endless, like long, long strings of white lights wrapped around the circle of this Earth.
And if I err, may it always happen over on the positive side.
"The hour is swept and garnished;
The walk has been brushed,
and the stair;
The crystal and silver are gleaming
But oh, is the Christ Child there?"
Sunday, December 19, 2004
It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas!
I only told you about part of yesterday. After the ghost town mall, Tom and I drove to Salvation Army--one of my favorite book haunts. I snatched up two delightful books, ones by Betty Cavanna and Elizabeth Enright, and hugged them to myself in glee.
Then Tom and I went to Taco Bell--his choice. We take turns choosing places. Our time there felt so Christmasy--Tom didn't even tell me I could have saved 35 cents if I would have ordered the xyz meal(even though I didn't want a z) instead of buying the x and y and the diet w which I did order. It's always nice when he doesn't point out things like that. We read our books and chatted and commented on the Christmas music. And looked out the big windows and smiled a lot.
Then we were off to the theater where we saw a matinee of Christmas With The Kranks. We snuggled in the cold, dark theater--it's always cold in there--I've been known to sit there with my coat like a blanket even in August. We laughed a lot and cried and sniffed at the sentimental parts. And afterward, ran to the car in the blast of snow-is-on-its-way air.
We experience many days like those, but some are more harmonious than others. They just flow easier and appear almost wrapped in golden light, even as they happen. Even before we look backward at them from years and years further down the road.
I have learned, in whatsoever state I am, therewith to be content. -- Philippians 4:11.
Saturday, December 18, 2004
Early this morning, well, early for us, Tom and I went to what I call The Ghost Town Mall. So-called because it used to be packed with stores and lights and music and shopping-bag-carrying people, but now, there's basically just memories of those days and a handful of quiet, struggling shops.
But there is a big Sears at one end which still does well and Tom wanted to go there, even though I told him I could think of nothing I'd like from Sears for Christmas. No offense to people who love Sears. This year all I'd like for Christmas besides peace on Earth and a more giving heart, are a handful of DVD's. And well, our Sears doesn't carry any of those things.
But anyway, while Tom shopped at Sears, I ambled down the dark, still-sleeping mall to the coffee shop and bought a plain old little decaf coffee. I carry my own cappucino powder with me in my purse, saves money, fat grams and probably 3 calories. heh.
At a little bistro table in the mall with my Eleanor Roosevelt's Christmas Book, I discretely added my cappucino powder then put on my reading glasses.
But you know? I kept setting the book aside because watching the trickling of people wander around this ghost town mall was much more fascinating. Mothers spoke kindly and cheerfully to their sons. Grey-haired folks greeted one another and spoke about the weather and such. Two young girls approached the coffee shop, excitedly talking about the gifts they would buy for others. A quiet Christmas calmness was everywhere, even when the powers-that-be turned on the main lights in the mall and shops began to open.
It was lovely. I sat there warming my hands against my coffee cup and felt relieved that there are still folks who handle December well--and Life, also. May I always remember that, even when the nightly news tries to hypnotize me into believing otherwise.
"Whatever else be lost among the years, Let us keep Christmas still a shining thing: Whatever doubts assail us, or what fears, Let us hold close one day, remembering Its poignant meaning for the hearts of men. Let us get back our childlike faith again."
--Grace Noll Crowell
"...lest any root of bitterness springing up trouble you, and thereby many be defiled..." Hebrews 12:15
Sometimes it feels like I've earned a right to complain more now that I am older. I've seen bad things happen to sweet people so I can legitimately sit here and rant about it.
If I fear anything, it's having a weed patch inside of me where roots of bitterness spring up because I've tossed around a lot of complaining seeds. Bitterness will slow me down. It will choke out the good stuff I've planted. Make me sick. Make me useless to help others.
I got a mental picture this morning of Jesus spending his 33 years here on this earth all bent over in bitterness because of the sorry ways many people around Him acted. I laughed at that picture because it looked ridiculous.
But it's weird. I can't laugh when I get a picture of myself all bent over with bitterness. Maybe because it could actually happen. I really could waste my life in a paralyzing, tangled soul garden--growing in negativity right along with the world.
Today as Tom and I are out in the freezing weather, I'll be slinging around seeds of hope as though my life depends upon it. Pulling seeds from my coat pockets, if need be. Hope is like pesticide for bitterness.
Sometimes the heavy sugar-coating we spread over 'the good old days' covers their reality...
Friday, December 17, 2004
I need to be reminded that even what I blog somehow matters eternally, both to me and to others.
And the way I conduct myself around family and strangers, matters, too. Excellence just plain matters. Not a stressed-out, obsessive straining to be perfect--no! But rather, a sort of paying attention to details. If I'm going to say I'm a Christian, I can't be racing through my life not paying attention. Not taking care to notice what I'm doing.
I think words and deeds matter in an eternal sort of way. I can't even explain all the details as to just why. I just, well, believe when we arrive in Heaven we'll feel grateful if we lived our best life.
And today I want to act as though my words and deeds--and excellence--matters. Tom will be home all day and we'll probably drive around and run errands out in this stressful, December-crazed world. May I remember to remain calm and unhurried, even if the whole world is racing at the speed of light around me.
And speaking of light, may I remember that I'm to be a light wherever I go. A light shining in the darkness.
In the world to come, I shall not be asked, "Why were you not Moses?" I shall be asked, "Why were you not Zusya?" ... Rabbi Zusya
Thursday, December 16, 2004
I love Christmas shopping online. I grab my Christmas lists, some soda and barbeque sunflower seeds then sit in front of the computer and proceed to shop till I drop.
Wait, there's no dropping involved. And no driving round and round in circles searching for a parking space. And no walking around the mall in wet feet from the snow. And no waiting till people move away from the very items you want to look at. And no standing in line on your tired, wet feet, thinking, "If I hear 'Silent Night' just one more time, I'll throw something!"
Nope. There's just peace and quiet when you shop online. (Or there's your favorite music if you so choose.) I did most of my Christmas shopping online this year and I'm still a little giddy because my Christmas box here at home is filled with gifts which were bought in blessed peace and quiet. Ones that appeared magically inside my mail box.
Is anyone else like this? You absolutely love to give gifts to friends and family, but you absolutely hate to wrap those gifts, especially ones to be mailed?
Or is it just me?
Well, I thought I'd do something different with this post. I thought I would give you, my readers, some gifts. Ones I don't have to wrap...smile... I appreciate all of you more than you know, so here is a small, small token of that appreciation. Here are some gifts for you online, something for everyone, I hope...
Wishing you all an early Merry Christmas and a Happy Hanukkah.....
To watch free movies and old TV series--some of which, ok, are pretty cheesy, but hey! They're free and no credit card is required---- go here:
To listen, free, to old radio shows from days gone by, go here:
For free bookmarks go here:
To see hundreds of incredible old sepia-toned photographs go here:
For a free visit to a beautiful cottage home go here:
For free Christmas gift tags and enclosures go here:
To have fun trying on clothes online (forget those depressing dressing rooms! This is more like the days of paper dolls--and you are the doll.)--go here and click on My Model to get started:
To download free charts and lists to help keep you and your family organized, go here:
For lots of cool old black and white photos from life in the 1930's, go here:
For free dollhouse accessory printables go here:
For free retro paper dolls for your kids--or yourself--go here:
To find amazing pictures to copy and paste into your emails for friends, go here:
Tom slept in the recliner all night because of his back, so I got up quietly this morning and slipped on my coat over my robe. I'd forgotten to wheel the trash can out to the curb last night so I stepped outside into the morning's icy wind to take out not only the trash, but the recycling.
I do love brisk, icy mornings, even when I must take out the trash. I often stand at the curb a few seconds and stare at our house while it resembles a candle-lit shelter in a storm. I feel glad all over again that this little house is ours, and then I run back to its arms and close the door behind me.
Because Tom was still in the recliner, I had to switch to our bedroom for my quiet time. I heated my fake coffee, put the lamp on my bed, and also my wicker tray. Slipped in my music, got my books and diary from the sunroom shelves, then went back to our bedroom and snuggled beneath the covers and the pool of light.
Did you notice the child at the top of this post? Children are great. Most of them don't sit around meditating about how bad they've been. Instead, they spend much time thinking about the next round of fun. How to have it. How to create it.
When I have my morning quiet time, I think a bit like that, too. I put this verse into practice:
Looking unto Jesus, the author and finisher of our faith...Hebrews 12:2
I don't sit there and 'look unto me' and meditate upon how bad I've been or how I've messed up. Instead, I 'look unto Jesus' and I see hope for my failures. Unconditional love. Peace. Tranquility.
I will become like what I think about. What I meditate upon and think about all the time will take hold of me. Like a child, I want to anticipate my future. To look forward to it. I want to think creatively and anticipate joy.
The last thing I'm going to meditate upon during my morning quiet times is my list of failures. No, in fact, I'm on my way back up to bed right now and the pool of light, books and coffee--and I'll be looking unto Jesus.
There is no better way to start this dark, wintry morning.
Lose an hour in the morning, and you will be all day hunting for it... Richard Whately
Wednesday, December 15, 2004
And today we are due for a high temperature of 20 degrees (Fahrenheit, that is).
Surely feels like Christmas around here.
I ironed clothes yesterday afternoon in the living room while watching A Christmas Carol (George C. Scott version). Of course, there are ways to have more fun than that, but yesterday, well, I couldn't think of any.
Felt like a lot of fun to me.
It comes every year and will go on forever. And along with Christmas belong the keepsakes and the customs. Those humble, everyday things a mother clings to, and ponders, like Mary in the secret spaces of her heart.
Tuesday, December 14, 2004
My post yesterday may have left you with the impression that, while 'wasting time with God,' I've had nothing but fun and good times.
Well, mostly. But not always.
You see, there was the Friendship Test and that one was rough. Have you taken that test yet? For years--like, all my life up till age 35--I thought friendship was the best thing since peanut butter.
See, my family moved every three years, or less, while I was growing-up. My dad was a minister who it seemed, could only put up with the same people for less than three years. And the older I got, the more painful each move became, especially since I was oh so shy. Starting over in a new school was torture. And then moving away again just as I was forming close friendships? Well, that felt like the end of the world.
Back in those days (the 70's), when you moved, you seldom again saw the people you'd left behind. But I was a faithful letter-writer and through all the years and all the moves I collected pen pals from the towns I'd moved away from.
At age 19 I met Tom and we were married four months later (kids, don't try this at home. heh.). Well, anyway, one of our earliest, most memorable arguments occurred when one afternoon Tom got to the mailbox before I did and then teasingly kept my letters out of my reach. He knew I devoured my mail and because of that, he wouldn't hand me three letters I'd received.
Big mistake. Let's just say that's when he discovered for certain that my friends were my lifeline and letters were what I was living for.
Fast-forward sixteen years, a few more moves and thousands of letters from old friends and coffee house chats with new ones. Basically I had become a friendship-aholic. Like some alcoholics, I was able to hide my dependency from most people--I could play it cool around even my friends. But Tom and Naomi probably saw through much of it.
(I am sparing you so many details.)
But sometime during those hours of 'wasting time with God' the subject of my extreme need of friends popped up. He started confronting me with some heavy-duty truth. Basically, God started telling me that in order for Him to become my closest friend, I had to start coming to Him first when I needed a friendship fix. First. Every time.
Initially, that was hard. Everything inside me was screaming, "But I need my real-in-the-flesh friends!"
But slowly, over time--wonderful time-- it worked. I kept going to Him first again and again. And slowly, God became my best friend. And there was peace. Calm. Fulfillment.
And ten years later, it's all still here. He's the best, the only, 24/7 friend this gal could ever have.
And now He lets me have all the friends I want because I can keep their friendship in perspective. He's not afraid I'll turn back into that sorry, sad friendship-horder. And neither am I.
"...but David encouraged himself in the Lord his God..." 1 Samuel 30:6
Monday, December 13, 2004
Already, it's an amazing morning because of Kelly's amazing post, simply called rest.
I so wish I could have attended her silent prayer retreat this weekend. Probably, though, I would have disappeared after meeting everyone, sneaking away to hike around the pastures with God. I love open spaces and there are none in my town, well, except for baseball fields.
You see, I became a Christian in a church where immediately afterward, you are told to go out and tell everyone all about Jesus. I laugh about that now because it's like instructing a newborn baby to return to the nursery and tell the other babies all about her parents. What is there to tell? She only just met them.
So as a new Christian I spent years feeling guilty because I wasn't going "to the work, to the work," (as the song says). I didn't know what to say to people because I didn't know Jesus--not really. I'd never taken the time to become friends with Him. So I felt guilty. And because I felt guilty, I wasn't happy. And because I wasn't happy, I thought I was a defective Christian. Life felt bleak at times and still, I didn't understand why.
Then ten years ago I began doing what Kelly tells about in her blog (this post, also). She tells it all better than I ever could, so please, go there and read, too.
Basically, around 1994 I said phooey on all this guilt and brittle,conditional happiness. And I started "wasting time" with God.
I sat with Him every spare moment I could find (or make). I stopped doing all the talking and let God talk to me. And that has made all the difference.
I'd get out my Bible and let God explain things to me, instead of trying to figure them out myself. I'd sit and look out windows, dream, and slowly, I began to feel new life, new creativity flowing into what had been dry, parched places.
After months, guilt was replaced with peace. And joy. And somewhere along the way I noticed while on my neighborhood walks, Jesus' steps matched mine. He'd come along with me. We'd arrive home and watch TV, Him sitting beside me. (I would tell you about the times in 1995 when I'd get into my car and clear junk off the passenger seat so Jesus could sit there, except that you'd think I was crazy.)
But at least I am happy now. At least I have a friend who never disappoints me, one who's always here.
Knowing about God and knowing God for yourself--they are different.
There's a time when the Bridegroom gets tired of sitting and watching the Bride run around working, working, working. There comes a time when He wants her to sit down and just be with Him. To know Him intimately.
Thanks, Kelly, for reminding us.
Be still, and know that I am God... Psalm 46:10
Sunday, December 12, 2004
Don't laugh, but, I've probably seen the movie, Prancer, 15 times.
Child-like enchantment rubs away the harsh barnacles this negative world tries to latch onto me. And when Jessica hangs paper reindeer across her bedroom window while her Christmas album is spinning, I want to string reindeer in my own bedroom and play Christmas records, with her.
I find myself wanting Three Oaks, Michigan to be just like the movie portrays it. I'd love to visit lonely Cloris Leachman in her brick mansion there on a snowy afternoon and help her clean her mysterious, magically-cluttered room. Oh, I'd take trips up to her attic and string bright old Christmas lights like a rainbow spider web from rafters to stair rails, yes. Gladly.
I want Michael Constantine to be Santa at the little mall, Abe Vigoda to care for my farm's sick cows and Sam Elliot to live in the wall-papered farmhouse, especially after he has softened toward life and toward Jessica, because he has regained hope.
Oh and I want Prancer to eat gorgeous, yummy-looking Christmas cookies for breakfast.
And through the amazing Rebecca Harrell, as Jessica, I get to do all that every December. Even in July if I so choose.
Two reviews of this movie are here and here. I've worn-out two videos and now it is time to buy the DVD. See you over at Amazon.com.
And I'll see you over at snowy Three Oaks, Michigan where I'll be helping Jessica string her paper reindeer across her moonlit bedroom window. Drop by and help us. You can flip the Christmas record album over when it's time to listen to the other side.
Cherish your visions and your dreams as they are the children of your soul, the blue prints of your ultimate achievements... Napoleon Hill
...As an example of patience in the face of suffering, take the prophets who spoke in the name of the Lord....Above all, my brothers, do not swear–not by heaven or by earth or by anything else. Let your “Yes” be yes, and your “No,” no, or you will be condemned..." James 5:10,12
Hmmm.Some Christian bloggers lately have been swearing like crazy.
I don't get it.
Can you fill me in as to why this is suddenly ok? Really, I am trying to understand the reasoning behind it--I keep failing. I can never, ever, imagine Jesus speaking such words. Especially--especially!--in front of women.
Did I miss the heavenly memo that floated down from the sky and said, "Christians no longer must be imitators of Christ. Go ahead and be in the world and of it, too. Signed, God."?
Well, whatever. As for me and my blog, we will remain curse free.
Make every effort to live in peace with all men and to be holy; without holiness no one will see the Lord... Hebrews 12:14
Profanity is the crutch of a conversational cripple. ~ Jay Alexander
Wherefore come out from among them, and be separate, says the Lord... II Corinthians 6:17
Saturday, December 11, 2004
Now we see but a poor reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known... 1 Corinthians 13:12
In years past, I've watched A Charlie Brown Christmas over and over, even in July or August sometimes. But I've not watched it this December, maybe because I have its message memorized and it's become part of my heart.
Basically, Charlie Brown was miserable and confused because he didn't understand what Christmas was all about. But when he discovers the uncomplicated truth that Christmas is simply about the miracle of Jesus' birth? His confusion vanishes. He picks up his little scrawny tree, and steps out into the cold world, quietly confident and at peace.
Some things I will always just 'know in part' as long as I'm alive on this earth. The Bible tells me I'll not understand certain things until I get to Heaven.
And well, I can let that frustrate me and challenge me to keep splitting my head against a brick wall and run to keep up with the 'big kids,' to know what they know and become depressed by trying to figure out God's ways.
I can walk out my own door in an even more lasting Charlie Brown confidence--believing simply, that life is about just two things:
Loving and serving Jesus.
Loving and serving people.
In that order.
And I can walk through this life with my own scrawny tree--my child-like, willing heart--learning from Jesus what He wants me to know and be fulfilled.
And help a few people along the way.
God has made every thing beautiful in His time... Ecclesiastes 3:11
Friday, December 10, 2004
Some days I sit where I can see three rooms of our house with a single sweeping gaze. And some days I just see:
tables and chairs that need dusting
tilted paintings and scratched hutches,
dust-bunnied oak floors and cat-haired carpet,
lamps whose bulbs need changing and chipped plaster walls.
But other days, I lean back with a coffee mug cradled in my hand, and look beyond stark reality, the kind money buys or lack of time neglects.
I see more.
The table is surrounded by friends, laughing over nothing, really. And the chairs are pushed back, chatting-style, while people sit with gold damask dinner napkins upon their laps. Lamps glow here and there, candles flicker upon the table's center while shadows play in corners.
And country folks in the paintings shake themselves long enough to call me to dream a little in their countryside, before settling back into their poses. Likewise, my old friends in dreamy worlds between book covers beckon me in collective crowd murmurs. The painted hutches smile with dish gifts and trinkets from cloudy estate sale Saturdays.
And upon wooden floors are remembered-footsteps of people no longer here. The carpet has cushioned us while we rolled around with the cats beneath the portraits of sepia-toned people watching with their camera-captured eyes.
The walls surround me like a hug, though they never divulge intimate memories from years they spent hugging other people. Their autumn-colored coating will keep our life secret, too, for those who come after us.
It all depends upon how I look at my home--and my life, as well.
And no, that is not my living room in the photo above. heh.
To invent, you need a good imagination and a pile of junk... Thomas Edison
Imagination is more important than knowledge... Albert Einstein