Cocooning

While I was in the garage this morning, I checked on the cocoon. It's been there since October when I brought home the silk moth caterpillar to take pictures of it. It could be a Luna or a Polyphemus moth. I wrote about it in my blog here. Every so often, I look in on it, careful not to disturb it. From what I've read, the moth will emerge in the spring.

I feel like I've been cocooning all week. I've stayed home for the most part, surrounding myself by activities that quiet me, support me, comfort me, and protect me. I don't know why I needed to feel this way, but I did by the time we broke for the Holidays. It has to do with the amount of energy, both physical, mental, and emotional that goes into my work each day.

I want to continue being involved with my work, to be passionate about it, to be used up over it because it's too important to give any less. Creating time and space at home where I can cocoon and be nurtured, wrapped in softness and gentleness, enables me to return to the world to provide the necessary support, guidance, and leadership to those with and for whom I work. 

I work with some pretty amazing teachers and staff at my school, and only hope that they have their own sanctuary to return to at the end of each day.

I think a teacher's worst enemy is getting sick, so it's very important that she makes sure she doesn't get so stressed that she becomes susceptible to all the bugs that come to school with the children. Missing even one day of class can disrupt one's peace of mind.

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I mentioned in a previous entry yesterday that I had told Steve I needed another table across the back of my work space ... it would turn this L-shaped area into a C or U-shaped area, with my chair in the middle space.

Today, he carried up an old table or desk top from the garage, something he's had sitting around forseveral years. It had been discarded at his work place, and he thought "someday I can use this." It's about 30" wide by five feet long, and is very heavy. It used to be a desk.

After we tried out several ideas on how to support it (it was only a desk top, not the legs), we settled on using two, two-drawer metal file cabinets. We pulled out the drawers all the way, he turned the file cabinets upside down, carefully lined them up where they needed to be so we could still open the drawers on the back side, and screwed the table onto the underside of the desk top. It took him all of ten minutes to get all the screws in place and turn the whole thing right side up.

I replaced the drawers, and voila, I had a magnificent table/desk to complete my work area! I was so thrilled. I cleaned it up real good with wood cleaner and conditioner, and by the time I was through with it, it looked shiny and smooth like a brand new desk. Total cost: zip. We used all materials we had on hand.

And to think I was eyeing a real nice desk, assembly required, at Office Depot yesterday. It cost $159.00. But my table top and two used file cabinets is much wider and nicer than the one in the store, and it did not cost anything except human energy and eight screws and washers. I love saving money!

And I love my new "office"... it feels like a sanctuary in here, a great space to think, to work, to write, to read, to reflect, to get away.

I've had such a great week ... reading like a writer ... journal hopping, leaving comments, reading e-mails from the journalers, and rearranging this room. My new year's resolution was to be more organized, and today, I made some progress in that direction. Thanks to my husband!

By the way, if you are a moth or butterfly enthusiast, maybe you can look at the pictures and tell me what kind of moth it is. Polyphemus or Luna?

 

 

Penquin Smack

 I found this clip at Mary Louise's website. It makes me laugh every time I see it!! My dad would have loved it. But, who wouldn't? I'm going to look at it every time I need a laugh.

#92 Weekend Assignment: New Year's Resolution

John's Weekend Assignment #92 Do you Have New Year's Resolutions for 2006? If so, share one (or more, if you like).

Extra Credit: How did you do on your resolutions for 2005?

( I borrowed the graphic from John's journal to emphasize that this is his task, not mine. It is way too late for me to be thinking of these things on my own!)

At first I thought I didn't have a New Years resolution. In the past, I always resolved to lose weight, to exercise more, eat better, and so on. After twenty-five years of making these statements to myself, I have only succeeded in gaining 1 1/2 pounds a year, exercising less, but I am eating better. This because we can buy better and more varied food than when we first got married. This because each year our income increases somewhat and our expenses have decreased. This because our child is grown up and living on his own now. This because we sent him to college for four years, and now he's working his way through the next four years.

But as I look around this room I'm sitting in, the room that has always been referred to as the spare bedroom because once there was a bed in it, in the event that someone might need a place to sleep if they ever came to visit, which seldom happened in the 25 years we have lived here, I notice that I am changing it ever so gradually into an office of sorts. (I dedicate that sentence to Patrick O'Brien, master of long sentences!)

The computer has been in this room ever since Steven began high school, if I'm remembering correctly. The bed has since been removed and replaced by a couch, and I had the walls covered in National Geographic maps instead of wall paper for a few years. Then, to preserve the maps, I took them down and put them away one day, and we bought a computer desk and a swivel chair for the room. A few years ago, we gave the couch to our son for his new apartment, and put a roll-top desk in its place, and I bought two six foot book shelves to hold all my books. Well, some of my books.

I do school work at the computer, but there isn't much room to open text books, the planning book, a calendar, and other reference materials while I'm putting my lessons together. The dining room table is perfect to do all the work on, but it is in the dining room. My arms don't stretch that far, and I can't see that far away either.

So, when Steve asked me what did I want for Christmas last week, I told him I needed a table or a desk that would fit right up next to the computer. I described my perfect work space, a long five or six foot narrow table that would create an L-shaped work area around my computer. Just like my sister-in-law Debbie has at her house. He surprised me that night by saying, "I have just the table for you in my shop."

That very night, after we got home from the teachers' Christmas party, he disappeared into the darkness of our backyard, and came back ten minutes later carrying the table. It WAS perfect! Dusty, but perfect.

He placed it exactly where I wanted it to set, and I wiped it down good. By the next day, I had claimed the table and filled its space with all the necessary accoutrements: pencils, paper clip holder, printer, rubber cement jar, pencil sharpener, table lamp, daily calendar, dictionary, and a cup of tea.

That left me with about an 18" by 24" free work space.

A little bit more than I had before he brought in the table. Still, not enough to work on, and I can't get rid of all my desk things. I need them to write and plan. And it looks like an office desk.

So, today I said, "I really need another table or desk that comes across the back. Then I will have enough work space to do my school work." He said, "I think I have another table top down in the garage. I can probably make you one." Tomorrow, we will check it out.

I want this room to be my classroom away from the classroom. Well, minus the kids.

I want to be able to plan here, have the space to spread out my books, my papers, whatever, and not have to clean it all up so we can eat dinner. I want to read in this room, study in this room, listen to my favorite music while I work. My books will be within reach and the computer is here, and all the writing, drawing, supplies will be within easy reach. This will be my work space. I spend a lot of time in here anyway, might as well make it work for me.

The laundry basket is in here, and this is where the dogs' beds are, so I'll be sharing it with them.

There you have it, in a nutshell, my New Year's Resolution: to get more organized.

Oh, yes, and brevity over verbosity.

Addiction

Confession time. I have an addiction.

I just discovered it about 1:30 in the morning. I didn't think of it as an addiction because, who would have thunk?

It's not to alcohol or drugs, although Excedrin, Ibuprofen, Advil and Tylenol are interchangably my first choice of drugs when I get a severe headache. I have a stash in my home, my pocket book, my desk drawer at school, way in the back, hidden in a box. Headaches are my worst enemy, or so I thought until 1:30 this morning.

It hit me while I was staring at the monitor and reading a journal page, probably the umpteenth one for the night. So I went to bed to sleep it off. I'll deal with it in the morning, I thought to myself.

Then, this morning when I woke up, it was the first thing I went for...  I turned on my computer, and while I waited for the settings to download, I made myself a cup of tea.

Normally, I am in school, well into reading and writing by then, but not today, no not today. Today is a day off. I wince when people suggest that I've got a job with lots of vacation time in winter. After all, what do we do with all that time? Sleep late, go shopping, spend time with our families, take care of our pets, clean the house, read a good book or two, and generally, just revive from the previous five months of teaching so we can continue with the next five months? Darn straight!

Wish you could have that time off? Then, become a teacher, I say. That's when most just laugh and change the subject. "Oh I could never do that." or "No, you can have that job." Okay, then. Case closed.

I couldn't meet the daily needs of the students in the classroom if I didn't get some down time, and a week a this time of year is just about right. This week, I'm getting my down time. I'll be ready when we go back.

(and btw, winter break is the only week we really get to rest and relax, and only those who don't have to travel across the country to visit their families for the holidays really get the rest they need) I am not complaining. I knew the job description when I accepted it.

Was that a rant? Did you hear that? Where did that come from?

But, back to the aforementioned addiction.

Hmm. After I let my dogs out, I clicked on the AOL icon, then headed for the journal pages. My journal comments alerts waited for attention in my email files, so I read them all, then read the new journal entries alerts. Love these features. If you don't use them, you are missing a convenient connection to what is happening amongst your favorite journalers while you sleep.

All week, in between doing other things around the house and running errands, I have been journal hopping. I haven't done a whole lot of it since I began this journal in August. Truth be known, I didn't even think about it until about November... had no idea I could link to other people's journals, or keep up with their postings. Was so wrapped up in my own journal writing, didn't even notice that others were dealing with their issues every day and writing about them, asking questions, needing support.

Last night, I cruised through a journal, lurkynat. She wrote about some interesting topics. The whole time I'm trying to figure out who she is, where she lives, how old she is, what her background is, and as I read I began to hear her voice. I began to imagine her, her family, her work, and the things of her heart came to life.

I commented at nearly every page I stopped at. She was up too, trying to keep up the pace and thanking me for the comments, which I received via email. Between my comments and her emails, we were having a conversation of sorts. It was interesting, and amusing, and a form of communication I had never participated in before. 

Last night, I made a friend in Natalie. She asked some tough questions in her journal. Often, my response was a simple "I don't know."

I know some folks get addicted to video games or computer games, tv shows and radio stations, reading books by a certain author, or some other routine.

You have figured out my addiction by now, haven't you?

I need to get dressed and give my dogs a bath and readScalzi's new book, which I've bought, but haven't started because I'm enthralled by all these journals. There are some real authors out there.

Well, I'm going now. It's hard to push away from the screen, but I'm going to do it.

Right now. Bye. 

 

 

 

Prayer of Trust

Prayer of Trust

My Lord God, I have no idea where I am going. I do not see the road ahead of me. I cannot know for certain where it will end. Nor do I really know my self, and the fact that I think I am following your will does not mean that I am actually doing so. But I believe that the desire to please you does in fact please you. And I hope that I will never do anything apart from that desire. And I know that if I desire to do this, you will lead me by the right road though I may know nothing about it. Therefore, will I trust you always, though I may seem to be lost and in the shadow of death. I will not fear, for you are ever with me, and you will never leave me to face my perils alone. Amen

by Thomas Merton

http://www.merton.org/

I just wanted to leave something with substance for the coming year ahead. Many of you are reflecting on the year, your accomplishments, or lack thereof, your health, your families, where you are coming from, and where you might be going. I am doing the same. I need to step back and be still again, to recognize the road, to recognize my Source, Creator, Life-Giver, Guide, Sustainer, Savior. I need to remember, and Thomas Merton's prayer speaks of this. I just need to remember, and to trust.

Reading Like A Writer

It is done. The tree is put away in the attic. All the boxes, filled with ornaments and lights, are neatly stacked up there, too. Bags and wrapping paper will be stowed away tomorrow. I didn't want to wear my husband out in one night!

It's after midnight and I'm still wide awake from all this flurry of physical activity.

So, I'm taking advantage of the opportunity to write because tomorrow I may be too involved in reading my new book to even care about blogging.

I want to write a book one day. Not the great American novel, but a novel. So I've been trying to read books from the angle of a writer, and then today I came across an e-mail from Writersdigest.com. There were some suggestions that I can use, and you can too if this is something you are interested in.

Click on this article title for a direct link: Read Like a Writer.

Here are some excerpts:

PLOTS To learn how an author masters plot, keep a stack of notecards beside you as you read a novel by one of your favorite storytellers. Make a card for every plot point the writer introduces.

If the book is a detective story, police procedural or legal thriller, you may find not only a major plot but numerous subplots running throughout the book. Use the notecards to document shifts in plot as well as subplots throughout the story. Don't forget to include page numbers from the book on each card so you can go back and study exactly how elements are woven into the fabric of the story line. ...

TRANSITIONS  Don't forget to study transition sentences the author uses to connect elements of plot together. How does the author shift from one scene to another? The mark of a skilled writer is how seamlessly the total story is pieced together from plots and subplots into a unified story line.

A talented writer will use smooth transition sentences that you may miss on the first look. While reading, you suddenly realize that the writer has introduced a new subplot or has shifted in time or place.

How did the author do that? Go back and locate the transition sentence. Study it. Once you see how experienced authors use transitions to shift plot, setting or time, you'll have a new tool with which to craft your own work.

CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT  While reading, study character in a similar manner. How does the writer reveal the character's personality, appearance, relationships and thought process? Notecards or highlighters can work here as well.

Underscore every passage that allows you as a reader to visualize a particular character; jot down sentences that reveal a character's personality on notecards. What you're likely to see is that the writer has numerous techniques for putting flesh on a character's bones. These might include the following:  ....

When you're doing a careful read, it's best to study a novel for only one aspect of craft at a time. Attempting to track plot elements and character development at the same time, for example, may overload the reading process. ...

A good writer is an observant reader. Abandon any notions that reading is a luxury—the writer reads in order to write. (my emphasis)

http://www.writersdigest.com/articles/parker_reading.asp

It's what we are always telling our 4th and 5th grade students... you have to read in order to write. Get a sense for storytelling, a sense for hooking the reader, for using words that move the story along smoothly and without interruptions that disturb the flow of reading. I know how to write like we teach fifth graders to write.

I want to write like someone others want to read. I'm going to start reading like a writer.

Browsing Journal Land

In between taking the tree decorations down and putting things away, I've had some time to do something I seldom have time for: cruise or browse the journalers in Journal Land... there are an interesting bunch of writers out there, each with their own style of writing, each with a story to tell, and each with a purpose.

(When you click on the highlighted names, you will be connected to their journal website instantly!)

For instance, there's Robin. She began her journal back in 2004. She likes reality TV, like Survivor and Big Brother (me too!!). She likes to dress her Chihuaua, Princess, who is just over two years old. Cute. She is a Christian, and a dreamer. I love her sense of humor. According to her bio, she is a married Air Force wife living in San Antonio. Quite an interesting young woman, but you should visit her journal to learn more.

Then, there's Lori. She recently began a new journal at blogspot.com for reasons you would only understand if you knew what hometown members have dealt with regarding the banner ads you see at the top of our journals. I won't even get into that. If you journal-hop a bit around the October/ November entries, you are sure to find several fiery remarks from journalers. Anyway, Lori has a ferret, or maybe more, and she's in the process of buying a house. I know her as fitzzer because that's her aol screen name. I hope she finds the house of her dreams.

Penny has serious back problems, and is a former missionary, if I'm not mistaken. She has been writing aoljournals since 2004. Her journals are autobiographical. She is actually telling you her life story, and her memories are often warm and nurturing. She quit smoking in 88, she likes diet coke, and has lots of friends in Mexico. She is health conscious and thrifty, and loves kids. She's a good mother. I know all this because I have read her journal pages.

Another blogger, John, serves up information and articles of interest on the web, and keeps aol journalers connected to the latest and coolest websites. He has a beautiful wife and daughter, and shares photos of his family and pets on a regular basis. He knows secrets about posting on the web, and is a great writer when he's not blogging (although blogging is writing, right?). He posts Weekend Assignments and Monday Morning Shoots to give journalers something else to do when they run out of things to write about.

Another technical expert in aol journals is Joe. He's the journals editor there. One aspect of Joe's job that journalers are very interested in is his selection of a guest editor each week. Guest editors are featured in his journal, and they are allowed to highlight their five top journals.

I love checking out his guest editors and their journal picks... it's a great way to find interesting reading and meet some new and different people, folks you'd never meet in your every day circle of friends because these folks live all over the country. It helps expand one's horizons so to speak, without leaving your home. Not like watching tv or movies, and not like working with people through real life interactions. Sort of in-between.

There are many more journals I've visited, but I haven't mentioned them here yet because I've only just met them. You may find some of them in my list of other journals to theright.

Maybe you are not a journal browser, and you don't really have the time to browse in this manner. That's okay, too. If you keep coming back to my pages, I'll highlight one every now and then to get you started. It's a way to find out what other folks think about, what they experience to be true and real in their lives, how they struggle with their pain (physical and emotional), and how they overcome great difficulties and challenges. I find them very encouraging and inspiring.

Do you remember reading Reader's Digest magazine when you were younger? Or maybe you still do? I used to subscribe to it every month. People's personal stories would amaze me, and I'd think, could I do that if that happened to me? Often, the answer would be "no, I don't have what it takes."

When you read the journals, and you read about the obstacles and tragedies and turmoil their authors have lived through, you think, wow, that person has great courage. I hope I can be that courageous when the time comes.

This is not Reader's Digest, but the stories are real. Check them out some time. You won't be disappointed.

If you are new to journal hopping, one way to access all the entries of a particular journal is to click on the View Archives at top right of journal page. That will take you to a list of all the entries for the current month, as well as a list of previous months. You can scan entry titles and click on something catchy, or even click on First Journal Entry to find out what brought the writer to blogging on line in the first place.

And if you'd like to be notified every time a journal entry is made, simply click on the words alert me as comments are posted at top right (below view archives).

I know, it's all interesting, isn't it?

Okay, the decorations and lights are off the tree... now I just need to dismantle the tree and box it up. Maybe get it done before Steve gets home!

Christmas Family Photos

Christmas photos posted at last. A couple are blurry, but you get the picture. It was nice being around all that youthfulness. It was even nicer going home afterward.Just kidding!

We did not toast with Tequila like some other journaler's family whose name I won't mention. Although, I would have had some had it been offered. We ate the food, and there were still leftovers. The great grandkids sat around the tree and unwrapped presents. The grandkids sat around and remembered when they did the same thing not so long ago, and the kids, well, we sat around and remembered when we were the only adults in the house.

Yep, Christmas family gathering is a lot different these days. Leaves us with much pondering to do.

Thank You for the Gifts!

I attempted to put things up, I really did. I made it to the table in the living room where I had set gifts that family, friends, and neighbors had given us. As I tried to remember who gave what, I thought I should write it down because by tomorrow I will forget. Had I left the to-and-from labels attached, that would not have been a problem, but in the unpacking last night, some labels fell off and others got separated. I made a note as I wrote down each gift and its giver... thank you notes! That's what I will do with tomorrow's day off.

Anyway, as I sorted through the things, I nibbled. Most of the gifts were edible.

My friend Jewel gave me a book, One Incredible Moment, by Max Lucado. She knows I like words for the soul, and especially love the inspirational, poetic words of Max Lucado.

James and Margaret had given us two tins of homemade cookies, including some divine chocolate cherry brownies. Thank you, both! The book, A Moment with God for Teachers, is most appreciated. Your gifts of food for the body and the soul were most appreciated.

Alyson gifted us with jars of homemade jellies: grape, cherry, and apple butter. I smiled as I lifted each one out of the red and green basket... she works long hours as a post-op nurse in the cardiac unit of Duke hospital, a parent of three kids, two of them teens, and the other a teen-to-be, yet still finds time to garden and make home jellies... what a friend! Her husband is an okay guy, too (just kidding, Mark... you are more than okay! I love you both.)

There was homemade apple butter from our neighbors the Stameys... we see them more often in the summer when the days are longer, the nights warmer, and the swimming pool at Patterson Park is open. I haven't tried the apple butter yet, but it won't last long in this house. Thanks, Beth and John and Mary Catherine.

The Berryhill family sent over some homemade muffins and the oatbran muffin mix in a jar so we can make more after we eat the ones they made. Thanks, Betty and Sam.... I sure do miss those winters long ago sledding down our driveway with your kids.

Our closest in proximity neighbors, Delores and JR, gave us a nice gift to fill the senses: a bottle of Duplin wine for my husband, his favorite. Every year they gift him with a special bottle of wine. A lovely scentedcandle for me, I'm sure, and a cute little arrangement in a flower pot: aromatherapy lotions, kiwi lip gloss and a jade-like bracelet. I know that's for me!

There were chocolate peanut clusters from the DeHart family, lemon tea cookies in a cute Christmas tree package from the Dalton family, and a jar of hot chocolate mix good for at least four cups of homemade hot chocolate.. with marshmallows, from Pam and Tom. Our neighbors bless us with their goodness every year.

I hope I got it all right... the gifts matched with the names, I mean. Many of the people I am thanking here don't even know about this journal, and will never read it, so I'm going to send them a personal thank you.

My sister-in-law, Faye, had the same idea I had this year. She baked cookies for everyone, and arranged them on a nice serving tray for each recipient. They were wrapped with that new waxed paper that seals completely (press n seal?). The cookies made it home with us, none of them broke, and they were tasty, too.

Two nieces, Hannah and Bridget, gave us gifts, too, but Steve was unpacking last night and the gifts got separated from the tags... so Hannah, or Bridget, if you read this, let me know... I want to thank you both. Hannah is 15 and will some day be a doctor and a  pilot! And she wants to join the Air Force to get her training and education. Smart girl. Bridget is 20-ish, and spent yesterday taking care of her boyfriend who was recuperating from a car accident on Christmas Eve when a deer ran in front of him.

Vi, Steven's girlfriend, is quite the cook and baker. Before driving to her family's home in Georgia, she baked some Christmas goodies herself. Steven made the delivery for her: a package of homemade cheese biscuits that are better than any I've ever tasted, and a tin of cookies... homemade. Need I remind you of the beautiful red velvet cake she baked for Steven last month on his birthday? She even remembered our dogs: she sent them each a Christmas toy dog bone, one red and one green. Misty and Max loved the new toys and played with them as soon as I tossed them on the floor. I like this young woman. She's welcome in our home anytime (hint, hint).  No,he doesn't need a hint to bring her home, just some synchronized, compatible time off.

Steven asked me for some Christmas ideas for me last month. I am a Firefly fan. That's a tv series which aired for one season about 2 1/2 years ago. I have the entire Firefly series DVD set... yes, I have watched the show several times over, mostly if I'm alone, and I'm done with school work, done reflecting, done with anything, and just need some down time. I'm a closet Browncoat, you could say, except now that I've told everyone in the world, at least five people know the truth about me. Well, seven if you count my husband and son. No, wait, Dave knows too, because he checked out my AOL profile. (He's a Browncoat, too, I think, but I don't want to be the one to out him.)

I had told Steven the movie Serenity, a Firefly continuation, would be released on DVD just in time for Christmas... he could give me that. Sure enough, he took the hint! I haven't watched it yet, but it's another one of those things I'm going to do this week while I'm off. That will require a few hours of non-interruptions... I want to savor the experience!

My husband gave me and I gave him a gift of time and presence. We were together, we sat together, we enjoyed each other's company for a stress-free day. We decided it was easier and more practical not to worry about what to buy for the other since we basically have all of our needs and wants. I'd rather put my money into places of greater need, and so would he. There are too many people who do without in this world, even in our community. This year, we gave to them. It feltright to do that. It always feel right to do that.

Now, I'm really going to get to work with putting things away. I just needed a little break to thank everyone.

 

 

 

 

After Christmas Things To Do

I just got back from Target and Wal-Mart for after Christmas shopping... yes, I'm one of those people who brave the crowds the day after Christmas to buy next year's gift bags and boxes, tissue paper, and sometimes even ornaments that I'll add to my Christmas bags next year. If I don't do it now, then next year I will have two choices: spend twice as much money on my gifts and wrappings, or not give gifts.

The morning went by rather quickly and nicely. I thought that I was getting there late when I arrived at my first stop, Target, by 8:15 a.m., and there would be nothing left on the shelves. Although the parking lot was full, most of those people must have been gift exchangers or returnees... the gift wrap and ornament section wasn't too bad, and there were plenty of items still on the shelves. I had brought a list, which included 24 gift bags/boxes to put my baked goodies in for neighbors and friends, 12 gift bags for family members, 14 gift bags for teachers I work closely with, and 26 smaller (lunch style) bags to use for our church Christmas program next year. You see, I do need to save some money this year.

I also bought two plastic storage containers to put all my Christmas decorations in. These will go in the attic. I'm tired of pulling out cardboard boxes that need retaping every year to hold them together. The new red and green storage containers will last for the rest of my lifetime, and they'll be easier to distinguish from other storage boxes in the attic. Oh, and they look nicer.

My 27 year-old son spent the previous two nights with us, sharing our Christmas time with friends and family. His girlfriend, Vi, had gone back to Atlanta, Georgia to be with her family. It's always good to have him home with us. He spent quite a bit of his time on the phone last night talking with friends on his cell phone, including Vi. Maybe it was only Vi. I heard lots of laughing, so I know he was talking to someone very dear to him.

This morning before I left to go shopping, I had stopped in Steven's room to let him know I'd be gone for a couple of hours, and he said he'd call me on the cell phone if he needed anything (I don't have a cell phone, but my husband had left me his for the day because he knew I'd be out and about in the car... he's so thoughtful like that).

On the way home, I stopped at McDonald's and called him on the cell. Do you want me to pick up a breakfast (it was only 10 a.m) for you on my way home? Actually, he said, he was on his way there right then. You are? Yeah, I got called in to work, he said with a sigh. Do you want me to wait for you or are you just driving through? No, I'm just driving through and going in to work.

Work for him is in Durham where he also lives. He's doing a Pharmacist Intern job at a CVS pharmacy during his second year as a Pharm student, and he likes his job, but it seems when they are short of personnel, as when people call in sick or just call to say they can't work, especially during the holidays, things get pretty hectic, as you can imagine. I knew from his last workday report that he needed some time off, and he was a bit disappointed that he had to go in. Being the stoic that he is, he told them he'd be there.

I told him I was sorry he had to go in, that I would cook dinner tonight, and he could come home and eat with us. I hoped his day would be better than the day before Christmas Eve, and that the customers and clients would be nicer and more patient. Have a good day, I wished him.

While waiting in line to get my order at McDonalds, I noticed that people there were being patient and polite. Maybe he would find the same to be true at the pharmacy. I hoped so.

Oh well, another day on my own. A good day to clean up the house and put away the Christmas decorations... I like to get everything put away as soon as possible so that I can rest and relax those last three days before I go back to school.

As I stepped out the door with my to-go order and drink, who should pull up right where I stood in the drive-through but my son, already munching on his breakfast sandwich. He looked tired, but he smiled. He rolled his window down and we chatted for a minute before he said good-bye and off he drove, without another word of complaint. That's my son. He's going to make a fine husband for some young woman, and he'll be a terrific dad one day.

Now, about all those boxes and bags I bought... got to put them all away in an orderly manner so I can find them next year. And the tree, it's going to come down too. I want my living room back, and I want all those boxes cluttering up the bedroom put away, too.

Then, I can relax.

 

A Special Sitting Room

Home again! All the cookies were wrapped, the pie survived the 1 1/2 hour drive, the grand-nephews were adorable, and the grandparents were as glad to see us as we were to see them.

Steve's grandmother is going to be 99 years old on New Year's Eve this year. Her hearing is weak, so is her vision, but she knows when her grandkids, great-grandkids, and great-great grandkids are in her home. She often confuses one with the other, but I think that is more a function of her vision than her memory. She sat upright on her couch in her sitting room... you know, the special room open only on special occasions, like Christmas and Easter when the family visits.

I don't have a special sitting room like that in my house.... I have a living room and a dining room, bedrooms and bathrooms, but no formal "sitting room." I don't have special dishes put away for some special occasion, either. We all sit on our best furniture in the living room, and we eat every day off of our best dishes, either a Corningware pattern or a Pfaltzgraff pattern ( I have two patterns, but neither is saved for special occasions).

I have never understood the practice of having a sitting room where no one is allowed to sit except on special occasions, or the need to have dishes to be brought out only for special dinners. I want to eat out of my best dishes every day. I want to sit on our best leather chairs every day. When you pay that kind of money for something, shouldn't you be able to get your money's worth using it?

I remember as a child visiting my grandmother's house in Waterbury, Connecticut. She had a special sitting room, too. We were never allowed in that room until Christmas day. Her house would have been so much bigger if she had opened it up for every day use. Like I said, I have never understood it. I suppose if I had a larger house with more rooms, I might consider having a special sitting room, but I seriously doubt it. A library, perhaps, an office space, or another bedroom is a practical possibility... even a room converted into one huge, organized closet space.. now there is a room to dream for! 

I suppose the special sitting room is more an idea than a practical solution. That's one room in the house that stays clean all the time. That's one room in the house you can allow guests into without worrying about how it looks because it's always ready for visitors. Maybe that's what it's all about.

I know today, when we walked into Grandma Collins' sitting room, she sat there straight-backed on her couch, as a Queen ready to receive her visitors. Her hair was fixed, her clothes neat, and she smiled her best smile for her family. Maybe in that room, she feels she must look her best, and maybe in that room she feels her best. As we sat beside her on the couch, taking turns for there were many of us filing through, she would explain the stitches on her face (she'd had a carcinoma removed just before Thanksgiving), or open a gift with childlike delight. She couldn't hear everything we said to her, but that didn't matter. She had her family around her one more day.

One of the youngest family members, a 5 year-old great-great grandson, easily spoke to her. His expressive eyes, enthusiasm, and storytelling skills entertained our matriarch, and anyone else standing nearby, immensely. He didn't know about her hearing or vision difficulties. He just knew she was Grandma, and she liked it when he talked to her. She never told him he talked too much, or too loud, or corrected his choice of words, or asked him questions he couldn't answer. If one looked very close, one would see that despite the age difference, they had something in common: happiness, joy, innocence, and an ability to live in the moment.

On the verge of ninety nine years of living, that is more than a good enough reason to be sitting in the special sitting room.

Baking Cookies and Reminiscing

In about an hour I can go to bed. I'm still baking cookies for tomorrow's gift-giving. I baked all day to make gifts for my friends and neighbors. Now I'm baking for the family members we will see tomorrow when we drive to Jonesville.

Between all that baking, though, there were a few hours of relaxation and laughter at the home of longtime friends this evening as we watched selected home videos of  when our kids were much younger.  My friend Kathy had invited us over for dinner... she cooked the entire meal of turkey, ham, sweet potatoes, corn, macaroni and cheese, green beans, and rolls. She had told me to bring dessert if I wanted, so I had brought a pecan pie. It was all so delicious, and it felt good to be sitting around her table again with her husband and two grown daughters and our grown son.

Vanessa, her youngest, had asked me to bring some videos so we could watch them. When she and her sister, Andrea, were children their parents would bring them for a visit. I would video tape them at various activities over the years. From the time Vanessa was a year old until they were in middle school, I have taped them playing fashion show and princesses, boxing, singing, dancing, paper dolls, doctor, washing my kitchen floor, scrubbing the deck, riding their bikes, drawing, painting, eating, watching tv, playing video games, walking through our woods, watching the fish, playing with the neighbor's kids, opening presents, crying, laughing, telling stories, telling jokes, pretending to be gymnasts or movie stars... whatever they played at, I would have the camera ready for them. They loved every minute of it. Even my son got used to seeing me with the camera attached at the shoulder.

Tonight, for about two and half hours, we sat and watched the kids at various ages and activities. Steven said more than once, "I don't remember that. Why don't I remember that?" The girls said it, too. Andrea is 21, and Vanessa is 19... watching their playful conversations and listening to their take on what was going on in their lives at different ages reminded me how quickly time pushes us along, and how quickly we can forget how it all felt.

We forget what we looked like, how we spoke, how we acted, and how weloved. We forget who we were to other people, and who they were to us. We forget what brought us together, and we forget what pushed us apart. We forget what was funny and lovely, and we forget what was hurtful and disappointing. Time keeps moving us forward into new places and new roles, into unfamiliar intersections and unknown paths. As we adjust and adapt to all the changes and growing taking place, we let go of what is familiar and comfortable to make room for who we are to become.

Sometimes, in that process, we let go of relationships, just for a little while, and the next thing you know the children are adults and living on their own, coming home only to visit for the holidays, or for an occasional Sunday dinner. The next thing you know, our friends have grown wiser, too. They had to do some letting go as well. Long-term friendships are like that, you know? In the end, we are comfortable together again.

It's different now, holidays. Not lesser than they were, just different. Someday our kids will have children of their own... my adult friends and I will be grandparents.

I'm sure we'll have just as much fun spending meaningful time with them as we had with our own kids. Until then, however, I'm sure I will appreciate the time I have with our adult children right where they are now in their lives, like we did when they were younger.

Maybe I should start carrying the camera around again?

The last batch of cookies just came out of the oven. I'm going to bed.

Goodnight

and Merry Christmas!!

Armor of God

The Armor of God

 

Therefore, put on the whole armor of God…. Take the helmet of salvation and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God. And pray in the Spirit on all occasions with all kinds of prayers and requests.

Ephesians 6:13 & 17

 

As I heard those words being taught at a UMW district conference back in June of 1997, I had not the slightest notion that I would be needing God’s love and protection within hours. I had idly doodled in my notebook the words “God’s Word - God Sword.” Clever play on words, I thought to myself.

I felt renewed, recharged by the time I got home that Saturday afternoon, but even as I stepped through the door, a sense of dread overcame me. The answer machine light flashed six messages. The voices of my brothers and sister (California, Connecticut, & Georgia) told me the news: on their way home from California to Georgia, our parents had been seriously injured in a car accident in Texas. Our 12 year-old niece had died, and her mother, our sister, would not make it through the day. Another 4 year old niece had miraculously escaped with nothing more than a scratch.

My heart stopped at the news. The next two weeks were numbing as I came to feel the impact of losing our youngest sister and her oldest daughter, and of watching both my parents grieve for them as they dealt with the reality of their own life-changing injuries. Their injuries were too disabling and disfiguring to attend the funerals in California.

I accompanied them on their sad journey home on an Air Force Nightengale Mission flight, which took three days. I felt cocooned in that airplane as medical staff attended my parents' needs, and each afternoon, until we arrived at our destination, doctors and nurses checked them and made them comfortable with drugs and words of kindness.

Through it all, I continued to pray for my own needs, and for strength to do what I had to do to support them. I knew my church family back home in North Carolina, and all my friends and family, were also with me in prayer and thought. I remembered God’s Armor, the Sword of the Spirit, and I found myself standing firm at a time when I felt so utterly powerless.

There were months of recovery and surgeries for both my parents that summer and fall, and in the years that followed, neither of them would remember the goodness of the staffs at Dwight D. Eisenhower Army Hospital or the county hospital in El Paso, nor the remarkable three-day journey we took on the Air Force Nightengale Mission flight to get them back home. During all this time, God’s reassurance that we were not alone kept me strong for my parents, and kept them strong for each other.

During this time of year we are so busy with making sure our families are safe and happy, fed, and gifted with presents. We want everyone we know to know how much we love them, and we fill our days with shopping, cooking, baking, wrapping presents, and visiting folks. There are people in the hospital even as I write this, in pain, separated from their families, wishing they were home, dealing with a loss, suffering in any number of ways. Take some time today to send out a prayer of intercession for them, make a phone call, or send a card to someone who is taking care of such a one.

 

Prayer: Almighty God, you never promised to take away the suffering, nor to eliminate hardships. When we carry you in our hearts, minds, and souls, it is like wearing the Armor of God. Nothing can destroy what God has created. Amen.

God is With Us!

God is With us!

 

“Fear not, for I have redeemed you; I have summoned you by name; you are mine. When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and when you pass through the rivers, they will not sweep over you. When you walk through the fire, you will not be burned; the flames will not set you ablaze. For I am the Lord your God, the Holy One of Israel, your Savior.”

Isaiah 43, vs. 1-3

During the Season of Advent, it is easy to forget for a little while what we remember the rest of the Christian year, that Jesus hung on the cross in the ultimate act of self-sacrifice to take away our sins. For a few weeks, as we wait in joyful anticipation of our Savior’s birth, we put away the dark reminders of his last painful hours on this earth as a man, and we remember the significance of the bright starlight that guided the shepherds and Magi to his crib in Bethlehem.

God promised to be with us as we passed through the waters of life, through raging rivers of tragedy, and burning flames of despair! He promised that we will not drown in our sorrows and struggles, and we will not be consumed by the powers that would destroy us.

God is with us!! 

Hurricanes, tsunamis, and earthquakes kill thousands of people, and winter storms wreak havoc among isolated populations. AIDS continues to leave behind a trail of orphans in Zimbabwe and other countries in Africa, and throughout the world.

All over the world, events are happening, and I don't have time to read them all. It is too overwhelming for me to even think about it all.

I want to know, but I don't want to know. Sometimes when I am feeling like I have "too much on my plate," I forget to look around to see what others have on their plates.

God did not promise to take away our struggles in this world, but He did promise to be with us through it all. We are strengthened by a word of understanding just when we think we cannot walk another yard. We are supported by the outstretched hand of a companion, whether stranger or friend, sent to help us just when we are about to collapse.

As the trials of living shape us, we are forged into the person God wants us to be.

 

Prayer: Lord, our Creator and our Savior, we come this day in joyful anticipation of the birth of Jesus. Thank you for sending the One who would change our lives and make us whole. Amen

 

The Refining Fire by Ron DiCianni

The Broken Gift

As I stood outside pulling car duty for the car-riders waiting to be picked up by their parents this afternoon, one little fellow seemed happy enough. He stood beside me grinning, and carefully held what looked like a Christmas gift. It was wrapped in a Christmas patterned paper, with a little red ribbon tied at the top to hold it together.

I scanned the area to make sure none of the children were stepping into the driveway itself as car after car slowly pulled up and stopped. Safety Patrol students (5th graders) stood on the curb ready to open doors and to make sure kids got into the cars safely and in a timely manner.

Suddenly, the little boy beside me cried out with accusation, "Hey!" I looked down to see what had disturbed his peaceful world. The gift he had been holding was now laying on the ground.

He stooped to pick it and said, "She kicked me!" The girl standing in front of him turned and said, "I didn't kick him. I was jumping and I bumped into him." She was about as little as he was.

His face was twisted with hurt and disappointment. "It's broke!" he cried.

"What's broke?" I asked as reached out to touch his shoulder. I wanted to calm him down. He looked ready to cry. He must have thought I was going to take his gift and he let it go, but my hand wasn't there to receive it, and it fell to the concrete a second time. I heard the dull sound of broken pottery. It was definitely broken whatever it was.

It was more than his little boy's heart could take. His face crinkled and his eyes shut and tears flowed. He tried not to cry loud, and he tried to speak at the same time. "I made it for my mom. It's a vase. It's broke!"

I took it from him, still wrapped up and for all appearances, still a gift. It had not lost its shape, but the slightest movement reported the sound of fragments jostling about inside. It was indeed broken. Shattered. Unrepairable.

He cried and cried, and the little girl by then had gotten into her car to go home for the holidays.

I knelt down beside him and hugged his little shoulders as the broken gift sat in my hand. I imagined that he had worked hard to mold the vase out of clay, and he must have thought how pleased his mom would be, how surprised and happy to see it when she opened his gift. I could imagine his little tongue sticking out as he concentrated on every aspect of molding it and pinching it and rolling it. No doubt, it would be the only gift he had planned on giving her, and she would treasure it for all the days of her life.

I tried to console him, but even I could not replace what he had made for her.

"Look, I'm sorry it broke. It was an accident. You can make mom another gift. There's a couple of days left til Christmas." He nodded, but kept crying silently. "When your dad comes home, tell him what happened, okay? Tell him how it broke, and ask him to help you make mom another gift. I'm sure you'll find something really nice that she will love. Can you do that?" He nodded, but I knew he was just trying to get away from talking about it anymore.

Just then, his car pulled up, and there was his mother, looking very concerned as she had no doubt been watching me for the past five minutes kneeling beside her son, hugging him. She could see he was crying. I had to give her some explanation.

He was a brave kid. Wiped his eyes completely dry before getting into the car. Didn't want mom to see him crying. This is a second grader. Already trying to be the man.

I walked around to the driver's side, and she rolled down her window. I didn't know her name, but I'd seen her around at school functions. I leaned in, she leaned out, and in this way I whispered into her ear a summarization of why her son was crying. I had to break the surprise in order to explain his grief. She nodded understanding, thanked me for telling her, smiled, and drove away.

I walked back into school feeling helpless. If I had had the time, I might have located his teacher, found some clay to send home with him, and at least he might have made another one. But his teacher could be anywhere in the building, and there might not have been any clay left, and his mom had already pulled up.

Somethings get broke and can't be fixed. Life fact. I can't fix everything that breaks or goes wrong. I can't even fix half of the things that break. However, as a mother, I know that his mother will think of something to soothe his hurt pride, and she will allow for him an opportunity to give her something even more special, and someday, he may even forget the broken vase incident.

Sharing his grief for those few minutes, though, did remind me of the passion and anticipation of Christmas that children have plenty of and adults often lose sight of. When was the last time I had made something with my hands, so focused and with such commitment and love for the person it was being made for? When was the last time I cried when something I had made for another broke?

I think as we get older, we are better able to roll with the punches, to go with the flow, to make lemonade when we're given lemons. We learn not to let every disappointment do us in. We learn practical, healthy strategies that protect us and strengthen us as we come up against the things of this world that would knock us down, physically or emotionally.

This little second grader will discover this, too, by the time Christmas celebrations are over. His hurt will be gone, his disappointment forgotten, and his pride returned. He'll also be more careful next time he's standing in the car-rider line holding something precious.

He'll hold it closer to his heart, or put it in his book bag.

 

Of Being Rescued

Longings

 

“All my longings lie open before you, O Lord;

my sighing is not hidden from you.”

Psalm 38:9

 

Twelve years ago, my heart was heavy and I didn’t know why. I tried to name the heaviness that had hold of me, to explain the sadness so that I might get a grip on myself, but I couldn’t explain it. It nearly paralyzed me emotionally.

Over a period of several weeks, I was able to grasp at least some part of the thing that had immobilized me: I wanted something, but I didn’t know what it was. Then I realized I felt alienated from everything that had been familiar to me, and suddenly nothing I had or knew was enough to fill the need in my heart. Weeks passed, numbness set in, and before long I didn’t even care that I had no feeling about anything in life, nothing interested me. The spark, the joy, the aliveness had left me, and I could not explain the empty shell that walked around day after day with my name.

I turned to prayer. I didn’t know what I was asking for, I didn’t have the words. Sometimes I just laid in bed at night with no words in my mind, which I came to recognize as a good thing. You see, with no words in my mind, with no thoughts cluttering up my head, no songs, no noise, I was getting empty inside. I didn’t know I was doing that, but every night I became emptier and emptier, and one night I was so empty inside that there was room for me to let God in. And when I let Him in, He filled the emptiness with His love. He actually rescued me, pulling me from the depths of the sea into which I’d been thrown. That’s how I felt when I woke up the next day. Rescued. Saved. Alive.

He knows what we need. I suppose if you know what you need, it’s good to ask for it. But God is so big He already knows, even before I do, what I need most. Sometimes He waits for me to recognize what I need and ask for it, and other times He just waits for me. All I have to do is show up. On my knees. With an empty heart for Him to fill.

 

Prayer: Father, we thank you for the new life you give to us every day. You know the longings of our hearts. We wait to be filled with your all embracing love so that we can embrace those who live in darkness. In Jesus name, we pray. Amen.

 

Click here to view Morgan Weistling's Our Refuge and Our Strength

Walking With God

Walking with God

“Thanks be to God for His indescribable gift!”

2 Corinthians 9:15

 

I love to save Christmas cards that depict the birth of Jesus. Each year, I allow myself time to look at the cards from Christmas’ past, remembering the senders, re-reading their handwritten messages, but often just looking at their signatures below the printed text.

In 2002, I sent out an unusual Christmas card. I say unusual because instead of the usual manger scene, this one portrayed an older baby Jesus just learning to walk. On the front, a beautiful reproduced painting by Morgan Weistling showed a loving Joseph holding steady the gripping fingers of his toddler, Jesus, learning to walk among the wood chips and tools of the carpenter’s trade. On the inside it read “… the infant Jesus learned to walk among us so that we might learn to walk with God.”

Such a powerful reminder of our great and awesome God! He came into our lives as a baby, nursing and crying, needing to be held and comforted, fed and nurtured. He had to learn how to walk, how to talk, how to read Hebrew Scripture, and how to make tables, doors, and chairs. He surely fell a few times when he first began to walk, scraping his little-boy knees, and probably banged his teen-aged thumb a few times while learning the work of his earthly father. He knew what it was to be human, yet he also knew there was more to his life on earth than being a man. That little baby grew up and accepted a mission that none of us would be willing to enter into.

As we wait upon the coming of the Lord this Advent season, let us remember that we are like toddlers in a world that is strewn with blades, mallets, nails, and slivers of wood. Let us not forget that the hands of our Father guide us through right paths and hold us steady every step of the way.

Prayer: Father, we give thanks this day for the indescribable gift of your Son, once a helpless babe, now the source of our strength and our salvation. Amen.

 

Morgan Weistling’s Walking with God and Kissing the Face of God

Rest Amidst the Chaos

Rest Amidst the Chaos

“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you … and you will find rest for your souls…”

Matthew 11: 28-29

The weeks leading up to and including Christmas are usually a time of chaos for me. All the preparations associated with the holiday often leave me feeling exhausted and numb.

One Christmas in particular stands out for me as the Christmas I shut down. On Christmas Day, as my husband and son packed up the car with gifts for the two-hour drive to my in-laws, I dreaded the family visit. I couldn’t face a day of noise, disorder, laughing, squealing or squalling little ones, people bumping into each other, and sitting too close. I love my husband’s folks, and normally I look forward to a few hours of our large family gathered in Mom’s confined mobile home but that morning I wasn‘t up to it. I asked them both if they minded if I didn’t go with them. I explained. They were understanding. My son was concerned about what the family would think. “Just tell them your mother is acting a little weird today and wants to be alone,” I suggested as I kissed him good-bye.

After they left, I sat numbly for a few moments wondering how could I want to be alone on Christmas Day? Guilt quickly overwhelmed me.

I opened my Bible in hopes I could find some solace in God‘s Word. The comfort and reassurance in Jesus’ invitation quieted my mind and lightened my heart. After receiving the Word, I opened my journal and revealed the deep lamentations of my heart. The burden lifted.

I spent the rest of the day moving slowly in thoughtful contemplation, putting things away. I read a book. I took a nap. By the time Steve and Steven got home that evening, I was alive again!

This Advent Season, set aside some quiet time to be with God.

 

Prayer: Father, in You there is rest. Sometimes You call us to serve others, and sometimes You call us to be still. May we recognize when You call us away from the chaos! Amen.

 

Click here to view The Comforter by C. Michael Dudash

Of Sending Christmas Cards

Penny, another blogger here at AOL journals, has been sharing her Christmas memories, and I've been reading them. She's actually started a December Challenge to all J-Land journalers to add their traditions and memories. I thought about joining in when it first began in November, however, I haven't had time, what with all the other things I've been writing about.

Her latest entry hooked me, though, and now I'm going to respond. She mentioned a tradition that I have always honored in my home and family, but this year, it has fallen by the way side of life. Time is the culprit. My obligations have commandeered my time, and now it's down to the last few days, and I am prioritizing, and resenting that I have to give up one of my favorite activities at this time of year.

It has nothing to do with cost of postage, either, nor the cost of cards. When I consider that each card sent is really a gift, the cost is never too extravagant. Cards, in my opinion, are more than just a heavy card stock paper with words and pictures. When carefully chosen, when selecting one with the right words and the right image, the card becomes a special message from the heart.

Sending Christmas cards has always been at the top of my list of things to do. The entire process of sending cards takes great time. First, you have to buy them, and several years ago I discovered that beautiful, high quality cards with lovely messages inside could be had at more than half off the original price if you waited until after Christmas to buy them. Of course, you can't use them for this Christmas, but you save them and store them away until the next Christmas. In this way, I can buy the cards I would love to have for myself, and save money.

After you buy the cards, and you have stored them away, you wait until after Thanksgiving the next year. I like to set them out, look at them, reflect on the Christmas messages inside, then get out my address book. Since there is lots of writing to do, the easiest thing for me to do first is to address the envelopes and stamp them. Once I get that done, I make time to be still and quiet, and think about each person or family to whom I am  going to write a note. I seldom just scrawl my name at the end of a printed message, which is why sending Christmas cards takes so much time, and is more like a gift from the heart. I've always enjoyed this quiet time of reflection while writing letters and notes to family and friends I have not seen in years.

Even more than sending cards, I love receiving them. Which is probably why I love sending them because most people will send me a card after they get one from me. Some even send me one before I send one to them... that's really nice.

I love the cards so much, and since they are from family and friends, I save them from year to year. One of my personal favorite things to do at Christmas time is to bring out cards from Christmas' past. There are notes and letters and signatures of people who have left this world, and reading their words of hope, love, and joy, in their own handwriting, often brings tears to my eyes.

The first time I brought out the old cards to see what I had before I threw them out was when I found a card with a handwritten note from my memere Deslauriers. The front of the card looks like a tapestry showing the shepherds coming to Mary, Joseph, and the Baby Jesus in a manger. Inside is a message from my memere, God bless her soul. It says, "From memere who loves youse all Big Steve, small steve". On the back I had written 1985 to remind me of the year she sent it. My memere didn't send many cards or letters in her time, so having this one piece of card with her writing, knowing that she handled it, wrote in it, lovingly placed it in an envelope, and sealed it, sending her love and blessings our way, is a treasure. I bring this treasure out every year, and add to it other treasures: the cards from my high school best friend, Debbie, before she died a few years ago from a brain tumor...  the cards from my youngest sister before she died from traumatic injuries received in a car accident in 1997, and cards from my husband's uncles and aunts who are no longer with us.

I have a particular fondness for cards depicting the Holy Nativity, the Wise Men traveling across the land with the bright Star as their guide; the shepherds adoring the Christ child, and the Madonna and Child images. These always are among the ones I save from year to year. I have over a hundred of them by now, and I attempt to display them in some way in my home. Sometimes I hang them on a wall, or from the fireplace, and one year I even set them into the Christmas tree as decorations. The entire tree was decorated with scenes from the Nativity in ornaments and cards.

This year, I have been robbed of the time to complete this activity. I have not bought the postage yet. I have the cards that I bought after Christmas last year, and they are beautiful, but I've not been granted any free time, except the time I've stolen to make these entries in the journal pages. I suppose I could give up journal writing for a few days to get the cards out.

If you don't hear from me for awhile, I'm probably sending cards!

I'm going to add a picture of my all time favorite Christmas card. I didn't receive it actually, I sent it, but I saved one for myself because the image was too powerful and touching. Don't have time to do it now, so come back later and it will be posted.

Of Going Alone

Read John 14:6-7; 16:12-13

Steven was not quite two years old the day he headed down our long driveway toward the road one fall afternoon. He knew his daddy was coming home from work, and I suppose he thought to meet him at the end of the driveway where it met the road.

We were living on Worm Ranch Road at the time. Steven had been playing in the yard while I worked, asking every now and then “Where daddy?“

“He’ll be home soon. Daddy’s at work,“ I told him more than once.

Soon, I noticed it was quiet, and my little boy had not asked me a question lately. He was nowhere in the yard, and instinct told me to look down the driveway. There he was, toddling away. I ran after him, he a good fifty feet ahead of me. I called his name. He stopped and turned toward my voice. When he saw me, he said “I go see daddy!” in a tone of innocent reassurance. Then, he confidently turned back to his mission, and continued walking.

In the meantime, I ran ever faster to stop him. There was another fifty feet or more before he would reach the road. Clearly he had no idea of the dangers that lay ahead as he set off on this little journey to the road. I shouted after him, this time I was much closer. He turned and said, more determinedly, “I go see daddy!” and started running away from me.

I called again, this time using all three of his given names, first, middle, and last, and the word “STOP!” There was no mistaking my intent when I would catch up to him. He stopped fast and began to cry.

When I did catch up to him, I picked him up and hugged him. I told him we would walk down to the road together to meet daddy, that he should never go alone again. I didn’t explain all the dangers of his attempt to go alone. He would not have understood.

Jesus told us that he would never leave us nor forsake us, and that through him we can be with the Father. There are no words or deeds that will help us get closer to our Father than that we accept what has already been given to us in the Resurrection of Jesus Christ.

Attempting to live in this world alone, without our Lord and Savior, holds dangers we cannot begin to fathom.

During this season of Advent, allow time each day to listen for the words of the Holy Spirit. Read the Book daily, and pray. Don’t go it alone.

Prayer: Father, in joy we remember the birth of Jesus. In love we receive him, and with a quiet and humble heart we ask the Holy Spirit to guide us to what is true and right in all matters of the heart, mind, and soul. Thank you, Heavenly Father.

 

Click here to view a beautiful print by Ron DiCianni called Never Alone.

Asking Permission to Copy

Well, I had written Mr. Dudash for permission to use his image in my journal page, but after he explained his terms of use, I decided not to keep the image on my page.

I liked his art work, but after I looked at all his other paintings, beautiful as they all are, I saw that the one I had chosen for this mornings earlier entry was the only image that I wanted.

He would have given me blanket permission for pre-approved use of his works, that is, for a yearly fee of $25 I could use his work if I asked before using the work, and he would even send me higher quality images whenever they were available. I thought it would be an excellent deal if I would be using many of the images all through the year, but I doubt I will be using them that much.

I understand his need to protect his work. Copyright for his work is held jointly by himself and other companies, so it gets complicated trying to protect the copyright.

People all over the internet could get hold of it and modify it, copy it, print it, and do whatever to it. Although that was not my original intent, I really have no control over what happens to it once I put it out there, so I removed the image.

If you would like to see the image I had there, here is a link to Michael Dudash's He Shall Hear My Voice. And if you really like his work, here is his website link.

So, journalers, before using art work you find on the internet, you have to ask permission.

 But most of you already knew that!

Advent Devotionals

The two previous entries are Advent Devotionals I wrote for the occasion. I want to include additional devotionals, possibly every day until Christmas, but they are only possible if I give myself the time, or take the time, to be still. I know many people read devotionals, writings that are reflective and Christ-centered, often resulting after one reads scripture and experiences its meaning in real life, not necessarily in that order.

I am going to try to use illustrations for my devotionals, as I have done in the previous two. I am in the process of requesting permission to copy these images from artists' websites, and other sources. I don't want to infringe on anyone's rights. I really liked the walking Magi image in the December 17 entry. I had emailed the owner to request permission to use the graphic, and he responded in a very nice email explaining why he liked the image of the magi:

"I really like that Magi image because it depicts the Magi as powerful and NOT someone to be played around with!  Additionally, anyone who is actively seeking the Christ may properly be called a Magi.  The Magi know that Christ is within them (I am the light that lights all Men - Christ) and once found leads the way to the kingdom of heaven which is "within" also (The kingdom of heaven is within - Christ)."

astroarchaelogist, John Charles Webb, Jr.

I'm still waiting, however, for Mr. Dudash's permission to use the image of his print. If he says no, I'll have to remove it. Copyright laws rule!

Still, I think for the purpose of illustrating a journal page, it shouldn't be any different than when I cut out a calendar page or magazine page and pasting it into my paper journal pages, which is something I have done many times. I love keeping my favorite images in the journals where I can see them again and again, and reflect on the words I wrote, often inspired by the picture.

Waiting

“I wait for the Lord, my soul waits, and in his word I put my hope.”

Psalm 130:5

 

Waiting. It is something we do every day, every season, every year. I remember as a third grader waiting for Christmas, of promised surprises beneath the decorated tree in our living room. There was a longing that I could not describe during those last few days of school before the holidays began. The giddiness and joy of waiting for Christmas morning was often more than I could bear. Something really big was going to happen! Songs and stories of the three Wise Men traveling from afar to bring their gifts to baby Jesus lying in a manger mixed easily with Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer, Frosty, and Santa Claus, fueling my already vivid imagination. If you had asked me then what I was waiting for, I would have said, “The presents! I’m waiting to get some presents!”

I look back on those early childhood Christmases, and I know now what I was waiting for then. I thought it was Santa Claus, the presents, and getting what I wanted, but that wasn’t it.

Advent is a time of waiting. We wait with a hope in our hearts that peace is real and achievable in our world, in our cities, our neighborhoods, our families, and in our hearts. We look to the seasonal lights blinking and sparkling from amongst trees, buildings, and lamp-posts, decorating the streets and our homes, and we listen to the telling and singing of stories and songs in our churches and our families to rekindle that spark of truth. It is what, as children, we knew in our hearts: that something very special is about to happen, something wondrous and marvelous!

Advent is that. Waiting for that really big event, the coming of our Savior, Jesus, the Messiah. My soul waits for the Lord. Where I wait, I cannot stand. Where I wait, I cannot speak. It is not about the presents . . . it is about His Presence!

 

Prayer: Heavenly Father, in you we have hope, and that hope is in our hearts as we move through this time of busy-ness and activity to get everything done. We come to a place of quiet and stillness now, this moment of the day, to seek your word, that we may take the word with us into the world in which we live and work. We wait for the morning light, the One true Light, Redeemer, and King. Amen.

The Innkeeper, The Shepherds, and The Wise Men

The Wisdom of Seeking the Messiah

Graphics above copied from What Saith the Scripture, "And Wise Men Came Bearing Gifts" by Tom duBois is provided courtesy of Christ-Centered Art" ---New Window.

Read Luke 2:8-16 and Matthew 2:1,2, 9-11

Did you ever wonder how it came to be that the shepherds and the wise men were mentioned in the story of Jesus’ birth as the ones who were to notice and welcome his arrival? Why not the people of the town of Bethlehem? Why didn’t anyone there know of the grand event about to take place amidst their population? Why didn’t the innkeeper recognize them?

I mean, for a people who were waiting for the coming of the Messiah, and for a people who were devout and practiced in the Jewish faith, why didn’t they know when the event was to take place? Didn’t they see the same bright star that called the shepherds and guided the wise men? It was practically in their back yards! It was right over them!

I think the answer can be found in what the shepherds and the wise men were doing when the star’s bright light caught their attention.

Shepherds in the field, were tending their flocks on gently rolling hills under a vast spread of dark sky and points of light, when the angel of the Lord appeared to them and brought them the good news. They immediately went to Bethlehem to discover what had happened.

The wise men, stargazers who knew the paths of the stars in the sky, studied the unusual celestial display, and understood that something phenomenal had taken place in the world. They traveled to Jerusalem to worship the new king, but were redirected to Bethlehem, where they found him.

The shepherds and the wise men were doing the work they were accustomed to doing. They all had their eyes turned to the skies. Noticing the brilliant light, they followed it to its source, and there found the babe who would take away all the sins of the world. They worshipped him in the quiet of the night, and left him gifts.

We must be like the shepherds and the wise men. We must continue what we normally do, living our life in the way we have been called. Whether tending our sheep in the field or studying the universe, we must also keep our eyes on Jesus. Unless we are looking to him, we will not see his magnificent glory in our lives or in the lives of others.

Without Jesus, we are like the people in Bethlehem who didn’t know, turning away the unborn Christ child.

I am like the innkeeper. I wonder how many “unborn” Christians I have turned away because I did not recognize Jesus in their lives?

Prayer: Father, as we work through each day, help us to see the Christ in others. May we become better servants and light bearers. This Advent, may we in expectation of your glory welcome the stranger who comes into our life. Amen.

        

                                                                               Magi walkingted States of America