Letting Go of Christmas

I always have a hard time letting go of Christmas.  Not just because I’m a poor transitioner, but also because I love the season.  For some people this time of year isn’t filled with love, laughter, joy and hope, but the Lord has greatly blessed me and my cup overflows with those things at Christmas.  The birth of my Savior, the beautiful music that goes with the season and the matchless Nativity Story.  Christmas cookies.  Lots of them.  Parties.  Family gatherings.  Christmas lights on the house and the tree, memories that flood when I hang ornaments and place the Spode china in the cabinet and put out the Christmas shelf decorations, in the past for my children now for the grandchildren.  I love it all.

This morning I sat with my granddaughters on a generations old cedar chest in my bedroom.  Emily read aloud a book she made for me when she was 5 and played the recording of her sweet voice saying, “I made this just for you Grandma because I love you so much.”  Molly stood on my other side and with my arms wrapped around them both as we talked and laughed all I could think of was that my heart was smiling.  These wonderful moments – why would anyone ever want to let them go?!

Their annual weeklong visit just ended but the glow that is in the house when my daughter and her family are here stays with us for weeks.  Our traditions are simple and not unique – early morning day after Christmas shopping just my daughter and me, Emily and Molly out in our front yard selling my homemade Christmas cookies (some years are better than others), watching a Christmas movie as a family, playing games (Clue and Monopoly are the current favorites), a big Christmas feast on the Christmas china with all my children and theirs (Lena we missed y’all this year, only illness could have kept you away!) and my baby sister, lots of visits from my son and his, building villages and cities and compounds with my serious collection of Legos kept from when my two were little, hot chocolate with tons of tiny marshmallows, Christmas cookies, lots and lots of stories, and time to just visit.  Heaven.

Now the house is quiet, not in a lonely sort of way but in a soft lingering way that is peaceful and hopeful, mitigating the underlying emptiness of already missing these loved ones.  I am grateful that we had this time, for we have other kids and grands that live so far away we don’t see them nearly as often.   That distance has taught me that real family love isn’t hampered by miles when hearts are aligned.  

Over the next few days I’ll pack up the Christmas china, the shelf decorations and the tree ornaments and store them away until next November.  The few remaining Christmas cookies will be eaten at home and shared at work.  I will once again get used to the grandkids room as my prayer room and the guest room will be freshened to stand ready and waiting for its next occupants.  But for now I’m going to savor the moments and memories, sitting in the soft glow of the tree lights sipping from a Christmas cup and thanking God with all my heart for my blessings who have been living among us this past week.  I’ll let go on another day.

Liam

Liam.  His name rolls off the tongue, feels and sounds almost liquid.  Like the way he feels in my arms when I hold him.  His soft newborn skin, the way his eyes move to the sound of one his parents’ voice or try to focus on me when I talk to him, and the completely trusting way he sleeps against me have stolen my heart.

I am blessed with many grandchildren, three of whom share my DNA.  Liam is the latest on the scene, my first grandson, son of my son.  His great grandmother Owen and great aunt Marie already say he looks like his daddy; he’s not quite 2 weeks old but I too see the resemblance. 

Liam is a happy, healthy, cuddly little boy.  One look at him and you just want to reach out, fold him into your arms and stay that way for hours because the passage of time just does not matter.  His mother of course is the one he needs most right now and if he is hungry his searching mouth with its beautiful full lips let you know he needs her sooner than later.  But he responds to his dad’s numerous kisses too, accepting them graciously if he is sleeping, or sweeping his eyes up to his dad’s face if he’s not.  Either way is precious to behold.

Best of all, Liam is 10 minutes away.  Not 200 miles or 4 hours or another state or even another country.  He’s right here, and his generous parents say I can come by as often as I want to for a fix.  I praise God for forming him into a healthy baby in his mother’s womb, for his mother’s discipline during the pregnancy and courage during delivery, and for the privilege of being present at his almost miraculously ‘easy’ birth.  Father, you have given me yet another precious gift in this newest of 12 grandchildren.  To say Thank You is inadequate, so I shall live out my gratitude by loving, nurturing and praying for this little one as best I know how until he is old enough to approach you on his own and find joy in relationship with his Creator.  Bless his parents and his big sister, and thank you for families filled with love.

Wedgwood and Violets

Antique lace curtains gently swishing in the hand wash cycle of my washing machine.  Tea brewed using an electric coffee maker steeping in my great-grandmother’s delicate violet china teapot.  Stevia in the impossibly small matching violet sugar bowl.  The dinner plates for the violet china set are the size we would call a salad plate, reminders that humans didn’t always expect such large portions of food.  On one of them sits two lovely slices of whole wheat toast, spray butter melting down into them, a serving of scrambled eggs from an Eggbeaters carton, and a small dish of garden relish, my husband’s concoction of finely diced tomatoes, celery, purple and green onions, and cucumber (some things haven’t changed).  A 15 year old grandson on the other side of the world, and one 10 minutes away who is about to be born any day now. 

The old and the new.  Mixed and mingled in ways never thought of by generations who came before.  My great-grandmother used tea leaves, and while those are available to me I opt for the much more convenient tea bags.  I doubt she had 1,207 varieties to choose from either.  The eggs on her plate came straight from the chicken – I use those too, but again not my only option.  Her butter was churned, fresh and rich; what I used this morning was liquid from a plastic spray bottle.  Yet the beautiful china with its delicate pattern of purple and white violets is the very same for me as it was for her.  It has survived all the packing and unpacking, moves from country to city, and being handed down to my grandmother and mother and eventually me.  A connection to Great Grand not joined by genetics but by preference. 

In many, more important, ways we are not alike.  But we share a love for fine, beautiful things and the tradition of keeping them in the family.  Her teapot keeps the tea amazingly warm without benefit of insulation or a heat source.  As I pour myself another cup, into a delicate cup and saucer from another pattern – this one my paternal grandmother’s gold-rimmed rose pattern set – I wonder if my great grandmother used this china very often.  Did she keep it in the display cabinet, only to be brought out for special occasions?  Or did she use it for an everyday breakfast when she was alone, like I do this morning?  The rose pattern was used every day I know, because Grandmother served on it every time we shared a family meal at her house.  Sometimes I use pieces of the violet or rose china combined with my own white Wedgwood fine bone china – the compliment makes a lovely table setting.  Old and new, mixed and mingled in ways never thought of by generations who came before.

But mostly the Wedgwood wins out, my daily choice, china I love and of which I have a complete set.  I wonder if it is the same in my spiritual life?  The Bible says believers are constantly being transformed by the renewing of our mind, and by the prompting of the Holy Spirit (when I am attuned enough to listen).  I observe my new Christ-nature in the same physical body as my old sin-nature, but I am happy that at this stage of life I can honestly say the new nature is more often my daily choice than the old.  Still, I let the old mix and mingle with the new at times, and there is nothing complimentary in that.  Old, unsuitable language does not mix with the new dialect of unconditional love, edification, prayers to God, and songs of praise.  Old judgmental attitudes and harsh thoughts do not mix with an attitude of working on the plank in my own eye first, and putting the needs of others before my own.  Old selfish desires to do only what I want when I want won’t work with new desires to show Christ’s love wherever I can, use my talents to serve the church, and to bring the gospel to the lost.

Carried away with my thoughts I poured more tea into the cup and stopped it just as it filled to the brim, making me lean over to sip it down to a level where I could add sweetener without spilling over when I stirred.  That’s how I handle my tea, but it’s not how I want to handle my witness for Jesus.  I want that cup constantly brimming over, spilling out into the lives of those God puts in my path, washing them in His love and plan for their lives.  Let the beauty of the Father’s pure love hold them up, supporting and bringing joy to the flower that is each individual soul, knitting a new meaningful life mixed together with the person He knitted in the mother’s womb.  Wedgwood over the Violets. 

The Life of Ryan

I attended the funeral of an 18 year old yesterday.  He was a freshman at college and had been home for Thanksgiving.  He was killed in a tragic automobile accident when another forced him off the road and then kept on driving. That driver still hasn’t been found.  He left behind parents, siblings, grandparents and extended family.  Their grief is beyond comprehension.   And yet, I’ve never experienced such a beautiful combination of grief and sorrow with authentic praise and worship of God.  I felt as though I was standing on holy ground. 

You see, Ryan was Christian.  A Believer in Jesus Christ.  His parents were too, and they understand that even in the midst of terrible shock and grief God is with them.  God has a plan, even though they can’t possibly imagine what that will be.  They have hope because of Jesus.

I didn’t know Ryan, but during the service I learned what an amazing individual he was and the incredible impact he had in his few years on earth.  I saw pictures of him as a young child, and as a youth on mission trips.  I heard his church, sports, and college friends talk about how he lived life fully and with fun, how he encouraged them, was there for them.  They said he wasn’t perfect, that he would tell you all the good things about him were because of Jesus, not himself. 

As I sang through tears I asked myself if I could honestly praise God if that were my son or my granddaughter in the casket.  The conclusion I came to is this:  how I would do that I have no idea, but I would do it.  Because there is no other Answer.   God sees the full picture, the finished side of the tapestry of life, while we only get to see the knots and tangles and an occasional glimmer of gold thread.   My job is to hold firm in faith, trust in God and keep on trying to live like Jesus.

Death can come at any age.  We are powerless to stop it.  Ryan died at the age of 18.

Are you like Ryan?  Are you prepared for life after death?  It's REAL, you know.  You are going to have a different body and you will exist somewhere else FOREVER. 

Or are you like the people I know who aren’t even certain there is a God, or that Heaven and Hell are real places.  They think that whatever god you choose, or the lack of one, doesn’t matter as long as you believe it. That karma, good juju, positive energy, or just being a good person is the same as believing in one true life-saving God. 

Which breaks my heart because it’s not true.

What we believe on earth determines our reality after.  Death is inevitable.  Let it motivate you to face what really matters while you can change your future. 

Christianity is the only belief system where God reaches out to us.  He came to earth, had the human experience; He relates to us.  No other belief system has a PERSONAL God.  He wants to be in relationship with YOU.  He has a plan for YOUR life.

God showed us what He is like and why we are here.  He has a mind, soul and feelings; He created us in His image.  The Bible is His signature, written supernaturally by Him through men.  It answers questions He knew we would ask.  It was written over a period of 1,500 years by multiple people in 3 languages.  Only God could have controlled the content and kept it consistent.  

There is a mountain of prophetic, archaeological and scientific evidence to prove the Bible is God’s word, without error.  The Bible predicted when and where Jesus would be born.  Jesus proved He was God in the flesh by His perfect life, miracles and His resurrection, all of that corroborated by secular (nonreligious) history.  It matters whether you believe what is in the Bible.  There IS life after death and THAT changes everything.  (John 11:25-26)

The Bible teaches there is a time appointed for each to die, and then the judgment. (Hebrews 9:27)  There IS accountability after you die, and how that plays out depends on what you believe before you die.  Our Creator God has a right to be our boss.  You can decide not to believe that and go on living like it doesn’t matter, but it won’t change the fact that a decision is required of you.

I beg you  -  believe in Jesus Christ, give Him your life.  Read the Bible.  Not just to secure your eternal place in Heaven instead of Hell, but to change your life here and now.  It’s the most important thing you will EVER do.

Ryan believed; death did not find him unprepared.   How will it find you?

Living by The Book

Last week while some were focused on the election, real heroes were hard at work in the northeast helping to restore power to areas affected by Hurricane Sandy. 

A recent news article about the aftermath of the storm told of the crimes committed as people’s property was left unprotected.  There have been arrests for looting, price gouging, gas siphoned from cars, and cruelest of all criminals posing as relief workers who then steal from those already victimized by the storm.  “Most loathsome, perhaps, were reports of people posing as FEMA and utility workers to gain entry into homes, then sticking up residents.

Connecticut College professor social psychology Jason Nier was quoted as saying, “In a disaster situation, people aren’t sure what the norms are.  People may be looking to what others are doing in determining what their behavior may be.”  If that statement is true, it is a sad comment on how far character or our nation has deteriorated.  People may be looking to what others are doing for their standard of behavior, but there is a standard, a “norm”, and Americans used to be well educated in that standard.

The founders of America believed in a Supreme Being, a Creator God who granted liberty and with it accountability for one’s actions.  The foundation of their moral belief system is still in place today, given to us in the Holy Bible.  The first book of the Bible tells us that people are prone to bad behavior, behavior that goes against God’s desire for us and separates us from Him.  The second book and all those that follow give us a standard for behavior, to help us know how to live in community with one another.  Jesus Christ showed us by example how living by that standard works.

            Keep the Sabbath holy.  Gather regularly together in church.

            Honor your father and mother.

            Do not murder.

            Do not steal.

            Do not covet your neighbor’s house or anything that belongs to your neighbor.

            A thief must make restitution.

            Love God with all your heart, soul and strength.

            Teach your children God’s rules.

            When you eat and are satisfied, thank God.

            Love your neighbor as yourself.

            Take care of the poor, the widow, the fatherless.

            Do not lend with excessive interest.

            Be generous, not greedy.

            Pray always

            Forgive each other.

            Be ready to explain to someone who doesn’t know God why you have hope.

            Be able to discern truth from falsehood.

There isn’t anything unclear about God’s standards, and the beauty of His plan for us is that it works!   God didn’t give us His Word as a club, to beat people over the head with it.  He gave it out of love for each person, so that our life on this earth could be good and we can demonstrate His goodness.  If we would abide by the standard of the One who gave us life, breath, and the ability to have what we have life would be so much better. 

I have a nephew who lives in Texas but who is currently in New Jersey, working with a crew to restore power to the millions who have lost it.  His experience has quite different from the one in the article I referred to.  He tells of people who are patient, grateful that they didn’t lose their lives or homes or possessions, who provide the workers coffee and kind words and hot meals from their cars, and who thank those working to help them.   Those people are living by The Book.

He told us about crews from Texas and New Jersey sleeping in an 18-wheeler temporary bunkhouse.  They work together in harmony, building friendships and meshing similar skills with different accents to accomplish their shared goal.  These men too are living by The Book.   Take a look at these guys – forget about politics, it’s people like these men that have my support, my gratitude and my heartfelt thanks that in the midst of crisis they too are working and living by The Book.

Election Blues

I am glad that Scripture has prayers of lament and seeking God when discouraged or in despair.  Yesterday Psalm 57 was my prayer: “O God, in you my soul takes refuge…refuge in the shadow of your wings until the disaster has passed.” And from Psalm 25, “Free me from my anguish; you are God my Savior, and my hope is in You all day long.” 

It’s hard being a red person in a blue world.  It’s not about politics – I’m tired of political speeches, debates, ads and emails.  No, it’s about the changes I see in a country that is very different from the one in which I grew up. 

In public school I learned about history.  Real history, things that actually happened and how they affected our nation.  In 1775 America was red with the blood of patriots who believed in freedom, a God-given right to liberty, and a representative form of government that would not seize individual property or income.  By 1783 the sovereignty of the United States of America was recognized, and the greatest experiment in government began.

In the 1830’s, my native state was red with the blood of Texans fighting for their independence.  In the 1860’s America was red with the blood of its citizens, fighting for the right of all men regardless of skin color to be free.  In the 1900’s America was red with the blood of its people fighting for freedom in other countries – WW I and II, Korea, Vietnam.  In 2001 America was red with the blood of innocent men and women as terrorists brought war to our own soil and our fight in the War on Terror began.

But today America is blue.  I saw the map on election night and began to realize how much we have changed.   Again, it’s not about Democrats or Republicans.  It’s about America, how she was founded, and where we are now headed.

We have become a nation whose majority believes that it is acceptable for our government to confiscate one person’s income without that person’s permission and give it to another in the form of welfare, Social Security to those who haven’t paid in and aren’t citizens, “free” health care services, and excessive taxes on property.  We have a president who has established government czars (“an emperor or absolute monarch”), something never before done in America, and whose use of the executive order to get around the law is historical in its excess.  Our Supreme Court has expanded the power of eminent domain, ruling that personal property can be “transferred” to another private entity for “economic development” and only the government decides what is “just compensation” (Kelo v. City of New London).

To see America heading down a path its Founders fought to avoid breaks my heart.  I have done my best to work for the principles in our Declaration of Independence and the Constitution.  Others have worked to bring about different principles.  I must accept that for now at least, they have prevailed.  That’s the way America works and I support the process.  Some will celebrate victory this week and in the months to come, anticipating benefits that others must provide them.  Others, like my husband and I, will begin assessing our remaining ability to make income, our property, and our stake in an American small business to decide how best to protect and preserve what we have worked so hard for.  We will also freely of our own will decide how best to help others less fortunate.  I don’t need government to make me do that.

And we will turn, as always, to our faith.  Governments come and go, but God is the same yesterday, today and forever.  I don’t understand why He allows certain circumstances, but I’ve learned He is always there for me.

I’ve been praying Psalm 23 in a new way since Tuesday night, taking it very personally.  What a comfort to know that even when my beloved country as I have always known it is walking through the valley of the shadow of death, I don’t have to fear any evil because God is with me.  

God loves all His creation, but those who come to Him through the shed blood of His son Jesus Christ get to be in relationship with Him.  That relationship, and the security of eternity in heaven it brings, gives my life meaning and purpose while I’m here on this earth.  Maybe America is still red.  Red from blood on a cross where Jesus gave up his life for our freedom - freedom to live the way God wants us to, and the liberty to love and treat others rightly no matter what color is on the election map.

Lessons from the Bed Desk

I’ve just returned from what seems like a long journey.  Even now things seem … surreal, and like I am not yet back in my body.  For 7 days I’ve been on doctor ordered bed-rest, or bed-desk as I prefer to call it since I had to work the whole time.    I have discovered a new depth of respect for those who are chronically ill, who must fact long-term treatments for chronic illness, and for those who for whatever reason have permanently lost their ability to speak. 

I was reminded how fragile this physical life is, and at the same time how amazingly designed by God are these human bodies.   Especially the pulmonary systems - the delicate act of respiration, and the incredible amounts of mucous that can be produced with respiratory illnesses.  The doctor diagnosed me with an upper respiratory bronchial infection; undiagnosed but recognized was the very real possibility of pneumonia, given my symptoms and history, and all this was later complicated by learning I’d been exposed to whooping cough at a local hospital while visiting. 

For some reason this area has become my Achilles heel, my constant weakness, as an adult.  I wasn’t plagued with it as a child, but since a near-fatal bout of pneumonia and Type A flu back in the early 1990’s that has been my area of struggle regarding health.  If our government proceeds down this current health “care” disaster road, I’ll be a prime candidate for the death panels:  serious asthma for which I take 3 meds, allergies, and history of respiratory infections and sleep apnea – oh the bureaucrats will love me. 

I am grateful, still and always, for modern technology that allows working remotely, for access to good doctors and medicines and the means to pay for it.  For living in a country where those things are taken for granted, expected as part of a typical American’s life, and without which we get very impatient and cranky. 

When life throws me a curve ball God has taught me to avoid the Why questions and ask instead Lord, What do you want me to learn from this thing?  That is infinitely the more useful question.  During this illness I was moved to cling to 2Co. 12:9, where the Lord told Paul “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.”  Instead of asking why me, why now, why on a 3 day holiday weekend, why when I have so much do to, why this illness, etc., I found if I simply acknowledged that this is what God is allowing me to go through and there must be a reason I could accept that and have grace for the task at hand or the difficult symptoms of the illness, or both.

Easier said than done, but very doable when you have Jesus on the throne of your heart and His strength to do the work.   There was a reason that I have these things written at the top of my page in my prayer lists:

          God is more interested in my growth than my accomplishments.

          God’s will is not about my plans

          Ps 71:14  -  I will always have hope

          Ps 125:1  -  Be unmoved by circumstances

          Ph 4:19    -  God will supply all my needs.

          Lk 1:13     -  Never give up, the grace of going on

God is Truth, and He has never failed to keep any of His promises.  I found that indeed His grace was sufficient during that hell-week.  There was only one day that was particularly hard; I shed lots of tears, started to feel sorry for myself and in general had myself a nice little pity party.  When it had subsided, I realized that I had let my focus shift from Christ to circumstances, and when that happens I always get off track.    Even as a believer, when I KNOW I’m a child of the King, that I have the joy of my eternal salvation and the knowledge of all my blessings and many answered prayers, that nothing can separate me from God’s love – even with all of that sometimes Satan can crush my spirit, my hope, and start me down the road of despair.  Why?  Because I take my eyes off the Lord and focus on me instead of what He is doing in me.  When I focus too much on me and how badly I feel I become miserable.  But when I step out of my pain and pray for others, or just read the Word, His grace IS sufficient.  It’s true – try it for yourself and find the freedom that is the life of a Christ follower!

I was reminded anew of the power of prayer, how you can somehow tangibly feel the prayers of God’s people.  It is a humbling, amazing thing.   I can’t imagine what it would be like to go through life without that. 

Toward the end of my bed rest I opened one of my favorite devotionals, Oswald Chambers’ My Utmost for His Highest, and the bookmark was placed at a date about two weeks earlier.  I glanced at the next page and knew immediately that God wanted me to read it that day, the day I found it.  I couldn’t miss the message intended for me:

The Habit of Enjoying the Disagreeable

  Do I manifest the essential sweetness of the Son of God, or the essential irritation of “myself” apart from Him?  No matter how disagreeable a thing may be, say:  “Lord I am delighted to obey Thee in this matter,” and instantly the Son of God will press to the front, and there will be manifested in my human life that which glorifies Jesus.

… you cannot keep yourself fit to let Him be manifested if you give way to self-pity.   It is one thing to choose the disagreeable, and another thing to go into the disagreeable by God’s engineering.   If God puts you there, He is amply sufficient.

Other lessons learned.  I need to do more of what I do best when it comes to audit time at work – delegate.  There are things I can do post-audit to try and improve the billing process now that should help next year at audit time if they are consistently implemented.  I need to figure out a pro-active process to identify and correct errors prior to their being tagged in audit.  I can hand off more administrative responsibilities to some around me, and I must find a way to make some of that permanent.  Our CEO was right to comment in a meeting earlier this year that we have GOOD people at our company.  We do.  We have done some pruning in the past year and the resulting team is really good and excellent to work with.  We will get past the backlash of errors from those who are no longer with us, and I don’t need to let those define our corporate identity in the support staff arena.

And thank God for a blog!  It’s been too long since I’ve used it to free up all the stress captured in my body (the best example of which is blog 1 about the Duke Disaster) and I think I may have produced one of my better ones in Nightmare on Audit Street.  What a great God we serve – He gives me a love of writing, some talent with which to work, and many avenues to explore the use of this gift.  So, onward in health, in writing, and in a life lived out in gratitude to the only One who is worthy.

Easter

Easter morning.  Cool spring breezes move through the morning air, the birds celebrate the advent of spring with their songs, and the flowers boast in their vibrant colors as they welcome the day.  I love Easter; as a Christian I am one of the Easter people.  Easter means the Resurrection of Jesus, preached about by all good pastors each year on this special morning.  It means church and dressier clothes and special music and together time with some of our family and maybe a special meal.

This year we were blessed to celebrate it with Emily and Molly and their wonderful parents, so Easter also meant granddaughters in pretty pastel dresses, lacy topped socks, shiny shoes and special hairbows.  Fresh innocent faces and hugs that make my heart sing.   In the morning before church we open their Easter baskets with plastic eggs holding candy and coins.  I read the Easter Story aloud as we sample candy for a pre-breakfast snack.

We drive to their church, the girls contentedly in the back seat of our car while their parents follow behind.  Seated in a pew in the center of the balcony I take in the gorgeous view.  My husband and daughter are on one side of me and my granddaughter is on the other, wearing the charm bracelet I’ve begun for her.  Magnificent music swells from the orchestra, with full choir and pipe organ set against lovely majestic stained glass windows.  What heavenly moments, beginning with Joyful, Joyful We Adore Thee, then a good sermon about the evidence of the Resurrection as it was displayed in the lives of the disciples, and ending with the Halleluiah Chorus from Handel’s Messiah.   Absolute bliss.   Just when I think my heart can’t take any more or it will burst, I hear my precious Emily’s sweet 5 year old voice beside me singing the “halleluiahs.  I feel as if I am already in heaven.  What better evidence of a Universe-Creator God, the Highest Power, than through music that originates in the hearts of men and which cannot help but come out to praise You!

From empty plastic eggs to the empty tomb, we also offer our praise to you Father. 

Alleluia!  He is Risen!  He is Risen indeed!