Today is the last day of 2007. Not one person I have spoken with has said that the end of the year has slowly crept up on them. I felt, as everyone did, that I had just put Christmas 2006 to rest when it was time to decorate the house for 2007. I hardly remember the month of December and now there are just a few hours left in the year. We all remember the excitement, anticipation and anxiety we felt December 31, 1999, yet in only two years a new decade will begin. Our life is truly “like a vapor.”
For most people, January 1 or 2, if you watch the bowl games, offers a new beginning. Most people resolve to start a new diet, exercise regularly, pray and read the Bible faithfully, stop this habit or start a new lifestyle. We have a whole year of choices lying ahead. There is nothing we can do to fix the choices we made over the previous 12 months and nothing good comes from living a life of regret. What matters now are the choices you will make today. You can choose to drown in bitterness or forgive and overcome the hurts you have suffered. You can choose to be consumed by anger or live in the Joy of the Lord. You can choose to live a selfish life or one of compassion. You can choose to follow your own path or the one God has prepared for you since the day you were born. You are standing on the threshold of a wonderful, fulfilled life, but you must step over the threshold to experience God’s blessing. How sad to arrive at December 31, 2008, the beginning of a new decade, or the end of your life still standing on the threshold.
Revelation 3:8 says, “Behold I have set before you an open door and no man can shut it.”
January 1, 2008 …. A new beginning …. An open door …. Don’t get stuck at the threshold.
Monday, December 31, 2007
Wednesday, December 26, 2007
THOU PREPAREST A TABLE
I have always loved the “finer things in life.” Perhaps it was because my chief entertainment as a child was reading. Like most little girls, I would imagine myself living the life of a princess in a palace surrounded by all the luxurious furnishings described in the stories. Chris
tmas was the time of year I could come as close to a Fairy Tale as our simple life afforded. There are pictures of me at Christmas proudly displaying a fruit salad with the cherries placed perfectly on the top. I would set the table with our finest melamine plates (later graduated to Corning dishes), fold the paper napkins just right, with a fork and a knife (it was Christmas) at each setting. Even as a little girl, I yearned for fine china, crystal, and linen napkins. They were not only unaffordable but not very practical for a family with 6 active children.
tmas was the time of year I could come as close to a Fairy Tale as our simple life afforded. There are pictures of me at Christmas proudly displaying a fruit salad with the cherries placed perfectly on the top. I would set the table with our finest melamine plates (later graduated to Corning dishes), fold the paper napkins just right, with a fork and a knife (it was Christmas) at each setting. Even as a little girl, I yearned for fine china, crystal, and linen napkins. They were not only unaffordable but not very practical for a family with 6 active children.I was privileged to marry a wonderful man and give birth to 2 babies that were “ALL BOY.” Again, no one wanted to eat pizza off china serving platters and Mountain Dew was just as good out of the bottle; who needs crystal goblets. At Christmas, my men were subjected to the finest table I could afford. Instead of hastily torn paper towels, they had to at the least, use “paper” napkins. I will never forget Phil’s eyes as he sipped Mountain Dew out of fragile crystal.
This year, once again, I satisfied the princess hidden deep inside by setting a beautiful table. We dined off of snow white plates atop gold chargers, cranberry cloth napkins and crystal goblets. Prime rib may taste just as good off chinet and it may make more sense to wipe greasy fingers on paper towels but nothing replaces the warm feeling of well being as we gather around an elegant table.As I looked at the pictures I had taken of my handiwork, I was reminded of Psalms 23.
1 The LORD is my shepherd; I shall not want.
2 He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters.
3 He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name’s sake.
4 Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.
5 Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over.
6 Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the LORD for ever.
God has prepared a table for me every day of my life. The blessings He has bestowed upon me are so far above paper plates or even melamine plates, stainless forks and Tupperware cups. I have eaten off china plates, used the finest utensils of pure gold and sipped from delicate crystal. I have the promise of Goodness and Mercy all of my life and a life with Him forever. Truly, My Cup Runneth Over.
Monday, December 24, 2007
MEMORIES OF CHRISTMAS PAST
For the first time in 30 years, Steve and I will spend Christmas Eve alone. The pajamas will remain wrapped under the tree, the games will stay on the shelf, the guest room will be vacant, and there will be no eager faces on Christmas morning or anyone to wear the Santa hat. Am I little sad? The passing of one of life’s seasons and the unfamiliar territory of the next brings sadness, some nostalgia but also hope as a new tradition begins. I remind myself there is a reason my kids are so excited about starting their own family traditions; they can’t wait to pass on the feeling of wonder they experienced as children at Christmas.
My antidote for sadness, the blues, depression, melancholy, whatever it’s called, is to go back to the beginning and remember that I have been blessed more than anyone I know. 50 years ago I had the privilege of being born into a family to whom Christmas was the “Most Wonderful Time of the Year.” My mom had the gift of making every holiday special. We celebrated birthdays, anniversaries, St. Patrick’s Day, Easter, Fourth of July, 1st day of school, Halloween, Thanksgiving, New Years’ Day, but no day contained the joy, excitement, anticipation and festive spirit like Christmas.
It would begin in mid-December with the Christmas tree. Sometimes Dad would bring one home; a few times we bundled up and trudged through the woods to cut down the perfect tree. One year an old-fashioned Christmas light scorched a pair of pajamas through the wrapped package, that was the end of real trees; we moved to an artificial tree which didn’t dampen the experience one bit. There were no expensive Radko ornaments that little fingers could damage. There were no “theme” trees with white lights and red and gold ornaments, no designer ribbons or garlands. This tree was lovingly decorated with bright multi-colored lights, a few store-bought ornaments, homemade paper chains and whatever ornament each child had made in art class at school. I hated art; I am actually artistically-challenged; I don’t even know why I brought the misshapen Christmas Star home. Mom must have thought it was the most beautiful star in the world because for at least 30 years it hung in a prominent position on the tree. Mom still probably brings it out at Christmas and tells all the neighbors that Sissy made this one.
Oh, the wonderful smells that came from the kitchen for days. There were cookies, pies, Jam Cake, fudge, and hand dipped candies. Mom always sent boxes of goodies to the neighbors, teachers, doctor or anyone else who may be in need of Christmas cheer. A steady stream of relatives dropped in for a cup of coffee, piece of pie and lively conversation. Packages began to appear under the tree and the excitement continued to grow.
Christmas Eve dawned. We would beg to open “just one” present. We knew what that one present would be, but we just couldn’t wait. Finally, mom would let us open a game just to shut us up. That kept us satisfied until evening. In the evening, the real games began, Dominos with Dad, Monopoly for hours, sometimes days, with Mike, and Candy land with the little kids. One more gift was waiting to be opened; pajamas. We all received new pajamas for the pictures on Christmas morning. Sitting around in our new pajamas, Dad would read the Christmas Story. Every year, he would pause when he came to the passage about Mary and Joseph and the Babe lying in the manger and ask why were Mary and Joseph in the manger? As a teenager, I failed to see the humor and thought it was lame. Tonight, I would trade everything under the tree to hear Dad read the story one more time. Finally, it was time for bed. We always sat out a piece of Pecan Pie and a coffee cup for Santa. Santa was sick of all the cookies and milk other kids left for him. At our house he was treated special. Amazingly, Santa’s favorites were the same as Dad’s.
Christmas morning arrived. For me it was usually about 4 a.m. I would wake Mike and we would sit and talk louder and louder to wake up the rest of the family. No one was allowed in the living room until everyone was ready. Bathroom doors would be closed harder, lights flipped on and off, coughing, giggling, anything to get Mom and Dad’s attention. Finally they would begin to stir, never later than 7:00. Mom would get the camera, Dad would give his HO HO HO and we would march down the long hallway to the tree. I realize now how hard Dad and Mom worked to make Christmas special for each of the 6 children. There was always a pile of gifts for each kid, not only things we needed, but something special we had longed for all year. One year I wanted a fur hat with fur balls at the end of the strings; there it was hanging on the tree with the other ornaments. In ninth grade I begged for a long woven cloth purse with fringe hanging from the bottom (it was the early 70’s); again, it was hanging in a special place on the tree Christmas morning.
The first few years of our marriage, Steve and I spent the night at Dad and Mom’s and continued the Hawks family traditions. As our kids came along and we moved to Michigan, we began the Niswonger family traditions, incorporating the old and the new. As I bid goodbye to what has been for 30 years, I eagerly anticipate what lies ahead for the next 30 years.
HAVE A MERRY CHRISTMAS.
My antidote for sadness, the blues, depression, melancholy, whatever it’s called, is to go back to the beginning and remember that I have been blessed more than anyone I know. 50 years ago I had the privilege of being born into a family to whom Christmas was the “Most Wonderful Time of the Year.” My mom had the gift of making every holiday special. We celebrated birthdays, anniversaries, St. Patrick’s Day, Easter, Fourth of July, 1st day of school, Halloween, Thanksgiving, New Years’ Day, but no day contained the joy, excitement, anticipation and festive spirit like Christmas.
It would begin in mid-December with the Christmas tree. Sometimes Dad would bring one home; a few times we bundled up and trudged through the woods to cut down the perfect tree. One year an old-fashioned Christmas light scorched a pair of pajamas through the wrapped package, that was the end of real trees; we moved to an artificial tree which didn’t dampen the experience one bit. There were no expensive Radko ornaments that little fingers could damage. There were no “theme” trees with white lights and red and gold ornaments, no designer ribbons or garlands. This tree was lovingly decorated with bright multi-colored lights, a few store-bought ornaments, homemade paper chains and whatever ornament each child had made in art class at school. I hated art; I am actually artistically-challenged; I don’t even know why I brought the misshapen Christmas Star home. Mom must have thought it was the most beautiful star in the world because for at least 30 years it hung in a prominent position on the tree. Mom still probably brings it out at Christmas and tells all the neighbors that Sissy made this one.
Oh, the wonderful smells that came from the kitchen for days. There were cookies, pies, Jam Cake, fudge, and hand dipped candies. Mom always sent boxes of goodies to the neighbors, teachers, doctor or anyone else who may be in need of Christmas cheer. A steady stream of relatives dropped in for a cup of coffee, piece of pie and lively conversation. Packages began to appear under the tree and the excitement continued to grow.
Christmas Eve dawned. We would beg to open “just one” present. We knew what that one present would be, but we just couldn’t wait. Finally, mom would let us open a game just to shut us up. That kept us satisfied until evening. In the evening, the real games began, Dominos with Dad, Monopoly for hours, sometimes days, with Mike, and Candy land with the little kids. One more gift was waiting to be opened; pajamas. We all received new pajamas for the pictures on Christmas morning. Sitting around in our new pajamas, Dad would read the Christmas Story. Every year, he would pause when he came to the passage about Mary and Joseph and the Babe lying in the manger and ask why were Mary and Joseph in the manger? As a teenager, I failed to see the humor and thought it was lame. Tonight, I would trade everything under the tree to hear Dad read the story one more time. Finally, it was time for bed. We always sat out a piece of Pecan Pie and a coffee cup for Santa. Santa was sick of all the cookies and milk other kids left for him. At our house he was treated special. Amazingly, Santa’s favorites were the same as Dad’s.
Christmas morning arrived. For me it was usually about 4 a.m. I would wake Mike and we would sit and talk louder and louder to wake up the rest of the family. No one was allowed in the living room until everyone was ready. Bathroom doors would be closed harder, lights flipped on and off, coughing, giggling, anything to get Mom and Dad’s attention. Finally they would begin to stir, never later than 7:00. Mom would get the camera, Dad would give his HO HO HO and we would march down the long hallway to the tree. I realize now how hard Dad and Mom worked to make Christmas special for each of the 6 children. There was always a pile of gifts for each kid, not only things we needed, but something special we had longed for all year. One year I wanted a fur hat with fur balls at the end of the strings; there it was hanging on the tree with the other ornaments. In ninth grade I begged for a long woven cloth purse with fringe hanging from the bottom (it was the early 70’s); again, it was hanging in a special place on the tree Christmas morning.
The first few years of our marriage, Steve and I spent the night at Dad and Mom’s and continued the Hawks family traditions. As our kids came along and we moved to Michigan, we began the Niswonger family traditions, incorporating the old and the new. As I bid goodbye to what has been for 30 years, I eagerly anticipate what lies ahead for the next 30 years.
HAVE A MERRY CHRISTMAS.
Saturday, December 22, 2007
IT STARTED WITH A CABBAGE PATCH DOLL OR WAS IT A BABY IN A MANGER?
The year was 1983, a chubby cheeked baby doll complete with yarn hair and a birth certificate was introduced to the world. It quickly became the top wish on every little girls Christmas list. Mothers and Fathers would rise up early and stand in long lines for the chance to bring home one of these highly coveted dolls. It became an item on the nightly news; reports of mother’s fighting over the last one on the shelf; newspaper ads offering the more affluent shoppers an opportunity to buy their own Cabbage Patch for a mere $500 to $1,000.
1995 brought Tickle Me Elmo. In the 21st century our wishes have moved into the electronic age. Our wish lists include HD flat screen televisions, I-Phones and something called Wii. Fox News reported that in one town more than a hundred people lined up to have the opportunity to purchase 1 of 18 Wii game consoles. A security guard selected the lucky shoppers to enter the store. The losers stomped off angry that their Christmas dreams were shattered.
Thankfully, these greedy, self-serving tales of Christmas are not reflective of the entire population. There have also been many reports of individuals and groups who have been able to capture the true Spirit of Christmas; the blessing we receive in giving. A church gives each congregant $50 to invest in something or someone; a bank bestows a $1,000 Christmas bonus on each employee with the stipulation that it must be used for a good cause, it cannot be given to a co-worker or family member and the employee is also given a video camera to document what they choose to do with the bonus. The most exciting report started with 1 person at a Starbucks drive thru window. That person paid for his coffee and the next person’s order, the next person paid for the one behind him and it continued throughout the day. This event has now continued for a week popping up in different cities across the U.S. The Wii brings a smile only to the lucky recipient and a frown to those unlucky empty handed shoppers, but giving to others brings a smile to the face of the recipient and a lasting sense of fulfillment to the giver.
It didn’t really start with a Cabbage Patch Doll, a Rubik’s Cube, I-Phone or any other “can’t live without” gadget that will be replaced with the “latest and greatest” in 6 months. The Spirit of Giving started over 2000 years ago with a Baby in a Manger. Isaiah said “For unto us a Son is born, and unto us a Child is given. John said “For God so loved the world that He gave his only begotten son. The beautiful thing about God’s gift is that it isn’t available to just those with enough money, or those lucky enough to be first in line but as John 3:16 continues, “ That Whosever believeth in Him should not perish but have everlasting life. God’s gift is available for whoever will receive it today.
Thursday, December 20, 2007
IT'S NOT SO DIFFERENT
Once again it is the Christmas Season; once again the “Merry Christmas” controversy rears its ugly head. We are greeted with Happy Holidays instead of Merry Christmas, town square no longer features the nativity scene, school children sing winter carols and a political ad becomes a news item because of its blatantly Christian message. Today we push Him aside when we forget to celebrate Him in our festivities.
In 1977 Joan Ewing wrote a song, with the words, “It’ll Be Different. “
The first time You cameTo a stable long ago
They pushed You aside
For they really didn't know
Who had come to their world
To save and to heal
So they followed You
And Your cross to the top of the hill
But it'll be diff'rent
The next time You come
Wait and see
You got a lot of lonely children
And one of them is me
You know we want to see You
We're never really at home
So if You're waiting to be invited
Lord Jesus please come
It is a beautiful song, but I wonder if society will be so different when Jesus comes the second time. The world seems at times to be a mirror-image of a world 2000 years ago. The Jews were looking for the long awaited Messiah, but couldn’t accept that the Messiah would come in a way that was outside their little box. Today our box consists of believing that the God we’ve created would never allow evil and suffering or require anything that differs from our selfish desires. Authors are writing books with titles like “God is Not Great” or “The God Delusion.” The great delusion is not the ignorant belief in God, Mr. Dawkins; it is the delusion that causes mankind to believe that we are okay on our own with no need of a Savior.
For some of us, thankfully, it will be different. Hebrews 9:28 says He will appear the second time to them that look for Him. Whether we say Merry Christmas or Happy Holidays, Jesus is going to return. We can ignore the nativity and celebrate with trees, lights, and Santa, you may skip Christmas altogether and go straight for Kwanza, but it will not stop His return. Jesus will RETURN the second time, but He will APPEAR only to those who are looking for Him. Jesus, the world isn’t so different from your birth, but this time you have a small welcoming party just waiting for the angel to herald your coming.
In 1977 Joan Ewing wrote a song, with the words, “It’ll Be Different. “
The first time You cameTo a stable long ago
They pushed You aside
For they really didn't know
Who had come to their world
To save and to heal
So they followed You
And Your cross to the top of the hill
But it'll be diff'rent
The next time You come
Wait and see
You got a lot of lonely children
And one of them is me
You know we want to see You
We're never really at home
So if You're waiting to be invited
Lord Jesus please come
It is a beautiful song, but I wonder if society will be so different when Jesus comes the second time. The world seems at times to be a mirror-image of a world 2000 years ago. The Jews were looking for the long awaited Messiah, but couldn’t accept that the Messiah would come in a way that was outside their little box. Today our box consists of believing that the God we’ve created would never allow evil and suffering or require anything that differs from our selfish desires. Authors are writing books with titles like “God is Not Great” or “The God Delusion.” The great delusion is not the ignorant belief in God, Mr. Dawkins; it is the delusion that causes mankind to believe that we are okay on our own with no need of a Savior.
For some of us, thankfully, it will be different. Hebrews 9:28 says He will appear the second time to them that look for Him. Whether we say Merry Christmas or Happy Holidays, Jesus is going to return. We can ignore the nativity and celebrate with trees, lights, and Santa, you may skip Christmas altogether and go straight for Kwanza, but it will not stop His return. Jesus will RETURN the second time, but He will APPEAR only to those who are looking for Him. Jesus, the world isn’t so different from your birth, but this time you have a small welcoming party just waiting for the angel to herald your coming.
Sunday, December 16, 2007
OBSERVATIONS AT THE MALL
Friday afternoon, I volunteered to be in charge of the donation table at the local mall for the Saginaw Rescue Mission. The mall was bustling with shoppers but very few people wanted to take the time to give a donation. To pass the time, I began to observe what kind of people come to the mall. The table was set up across from a Tattoo, Piercing, and Body Jewelry Store; this presented a great opportunity to view a variety of characters.
Here are some of my observations:
WHAT KIND OF PEOPLE COME TO THE MALL?
There were mall-walkers with measured strides, children in strollers or wagons and lead around with harnesses. A woman in a wheelchair, a man with a cane and a senior citizen tooling around on an Amigo. Mothers & sons, fathers & daughters, sisters, grandparents with grandchildren, mommies and mommies-to-be; cell phone talkers, security personnel, lonely people, friends in groups chatting excitedly, or sharing a joke. Couples who have spent years together holding hands and couples newly discovering each other, arm in arm. Couples together yet far apart... Caucasian, black, Asian, Hispanic, Indian, Mid-Eastern. Bearded and clean-shaven men; bald men, men with ponytails, short hair, long hair, spiked hair, braided dreds, newly coifed, straight and curly. Hair colored black, brown, red, pink, orange, gray, white, streaked, and two-toned. All joining in the hunt for the world’s greatest bargain.
WHAT DO PEOPLE WEAR TO THE MALL?
Some dress for this all important occasion, others prefer “come as you are” not realizing the personality secrets they are revealing to anyone who will take the time to observe them. I merely observed, you can make the conclusions. There were men and women in dress suits, sweat suits, Army fatigues, torn jeans, camouflage shirts and pants, miniskirts, clothes too small, clothes too big, fur coats, and men in shorts oblivious of 30 degree weather. Many wore Christmas sweaters announcing the season. Team apparel trumpeted team loyalty; Tigers, Lions, Red Wings, San Francisco 49ers jacket, Army, GMI, Grand Valley State, University of Virginia and Syracuse University sweatshirts, University of MI and MI State jackets, but NO OHIO STATE. Their feet were shod with high heels, tennis shoes, fashion boots, snow boots, and work boots, pointed, square and rounded toes. Heads were topped with knit caps, baseball caps on sideways and backwards, fur-lined hoods, earmuffs, felt hats, fishing hats, hunting caps, bandannas and kerchiefs, elf hats, tan hat with feathers, wigs and pink hats on cancer survivors.
HOW DO PEOPLE ACT AT THE MALL?
Some walked fast, as if on a mission; others strolled leisurely peeking into store windows, enjoying the decorations, balls of red, gold, and green, hands in pockets or arms swinging free. People loaded down with shopping bags; bags from stores I’ve never seen. A lady carrying shopping bags layered 3 deep on each shoulder and 2 of various sizes in each hand. Others clutched just one precious package; the one they had searched for diligently, containing the promise of so many dreams. Shoppers ignoring kiosk vendors offering hand cream samples and novelty toys. Excited and exhausted faces, frowning and smiling, afraid to make eye contact; not wanting to be greeted, but unable to resist a friendly smile. Hugging old friends, making new friends; drinking coffee and soft drinks, eating cookies, pretzels, frozen yogurt and other mall culinary delights. Teens with I-Pods singing and dancing, moms checking lists, dads checking wallets. Frustrated parents with screaming children afraid of the bearded man in the red suit. I wonder, how does a man who sits in a mall all day provide toys for anyone?
To a casual passerby it was a typical Friday at the mall but to the more observant soul the faces shown with the wonder of a first Christmas, memories of Christmas past or the boredom of “just another Christmas.” Pausing just a moment, I heard the joyful sound of Christmas music mingled with the dull, distant roar of voices, the click of heels, squeak of canvas shoes, and the plodding of winter boots, babies screams and heartfelt laughter. There were hundreds of strangers brought together by perfect timing with little in common but a need for love, a smile, a hug, a good bargain and most importantly a Savior. Let us not forget the Reason for the Season.
Here are some of my observations:
WHAT KIND OF PEOPLE COME TO THE MALL?
There were mall-walkers with measured strides, children in strollers or wagons and lead around with harnesses. A woman in a wheelchair, a man with a cane and a senior citizen tooling around on an Amigo. Mothers & sons, fathers & daughters, sisters, grandparents with grandchildren, mommies and mommies-to-be; cell phone talkers, security personnel, lonely people, friends in groups chatting excitedly, or sharing a joke. Couples who have spent years together holding hands and couples newly discovering each other, arm in arm. Couples together yet far apart... Caucasian, black, Asian, Hispanic, Indian, Mid-Eastern. Bearded and clean-shaven men; bald men, men with ponytails, short hair, long hair, spiked hair, braided dreds, newly coifed, straight and curly. Hair colored black, brown, red, pink, orange, gray, white, streaked, and two-toned. All joining in the hunt for the world’s greatest bargain.
WHAT DO PEOPLE WEAR TO THE MALL?
Some dress for this all important occasion, others prefer “come as you are” not realizing the personality secrets they are revealing to anyone who will take the time to observe them. I merely observed, you can make the conclusions. There were men and women in dress suits, sweat suits, Army fatigues, torn jeans, camouflage shirts and pants, miniskirts, clothes too small, clothes too big, fur coats, and men in shorts oblivious of 30 degree weather. Many wore Christmas sweaters announcing the season. Team apparel trumpeted team loyalty; Tigers, Lions, Red Wings, San Francisco 49ers jacket, Army, GMI, Grand Valley State, University of Virginia and Syracuse University sweatshirts, University of MI and MI State jackets, but NO OHIO STATE. Their feet were shod with high heels, tennis shoes, fashion boots, snow boots, and work boots, pointed, square and rounded toes. Heads were topped with knit caps, baseball caps on sideways and backwards, fur-lined hoods, earmuffs, felt hats, fishing hats, hunting caps, bandannas and kerchiefs, elf hats, tan hat with feathers, wigs and pink hats on cancer survivors.
HOW DO PEOPLE ACT AT THE MALL?
Some walked fast, as if on a mission; others strolled leisurely peeking into store windows, enjoying the decorations, balls of red, gold, and green, hands in pockets or arms swinging free. People loaded down with shopping bags; bags from stores I’ve never seen. A lady carrying shopping bags layered 3 deep on each shoulder and 2 of various sizes in each hand. Others clutched just one precious package; the one they had searched for diligently, containing the promise of so many dreams. Shoppers ignoring kiosk vendors offering hand cream samples and novelty toys. Excited and exhausted faces, frowning and smiling, afraid to make eye contact; not wanting to be greeted, but unable to resist a friendly smile. Hugging old friends, making new friends; drinking coffee and soft drinks, eating cookies, pretzels, frozen yogurt and other mall culinary delights. Teens with I-Pods singing and dancing, moms checking lists, dads checking wallets. Frustrated parents with screaming children afraid of the bearded man in the red suit. I wonder, how does a man who sits in a mall all day provide toys for anyone?
To a casual passerby it was a typical Friday at the mall but to the more observant soul the faces shown with the wonder of a first Christmas, memories of Christmas past or the boredom of “just another Christmas.” Pausing just a moment, I heard the joyful sound of Christmas music mingled with the dull, distant roar of voices, the click of heels, squeak of canvas shoes, and the plodding of winter boots, babies screams and heartfelt laughter. There were hundreds of strangers brought together by perfect timing with little in common but a need for love, a smile, a hug, a good bargain and most importantly a Savior. Let us not forget the Reason for the Season.
Wednesday, December 12, 2007
JOY TO THE WORLD
When was the last time you had a feeling of pure, unrestrained joy? Has it been too long? Can you even remember? The dictionary defines joy as an emotion of great delight or happiness, elation caused by something exceptionally good or satisfying; rapture or bliss. We get so caught up in our everyday life that we forget to take time to experience joy. After a while, we forget what joy feels like or where we can find it.
My granddaughters reminded me of what it feels like to experience the joy of discovering something exciting for the first time. Laughing at nothing just because you want to hear yourself laugh; finding a hidden ornament on a tree; eating a bowl of ice cream together just before bedtime; wrapping your arms around someone so you can share a little joy with them.
In the book of Psalms, David tells us that there is fullness of joy in the presence of the Lord. David also experienced times when life became overwhelming, but he never forgot the source of all joy. He asked God to restore unto him the joy of salvation. David reminded himself during discouraging times that weeping may endure for the night, but joy comes in the morning.
During this wonderful time of year, don’t let the shopping, parties, programs, family expectations take the place of experiencing real joy in the Reason for the Season. Take a few minutes to smell the baking cookies, light a scented holiday candle, taste a chocolate-covered cherry, enjoy the decorations, share a smile with someone you love, or throw your head back and sing this song at the top of your lungs.
Joy to the world! the Lord is come;
Let earth receive her King;
Let every heart prepare him room,
And heaven and nature sing,
And heaven and nature sing,
And heaven, and heaven, and nature sing
Monday, December 10, 2007
NO FEAR
Tis so sweet to trust in Jesus, just to take Him at His Word.
Just to rest upon His promise, just to know thus saith the Lord.
Jesus, Jesus how I trust Him, how I’ve proved him o’er and o’er
Just to rest upon His promise, just to know thus saith the Lord.
Jesus, Jesus how I trust Him, how I’ve proved him o’er and o’er
With all of the events that have transpired over the last week, it is easy to let fear become an overriding force in your life. Thursday, a young man “snapped,” walked into a mall in Omaha and killed 8 people, then committed suicide. Thursday, in New York, a group of young women attacked a man for stepping on a foot. Early Sunday morning a man killed two young people at a mission training center in Arvada, Colorado. Sunday afternoon, a man killed two people in a church parking lot in Colorado Springs and was subsequently killed by a security guard. A woman was found trying to get into Disney Land with a loaded gun. Except for the incidence in New York, all of these events happened in “safe” Middle America in “safe” places.
This afternoon, I volunteered to sit at the mall and collect money for the Rescue Mission. I had to fight a spirit of fear like everyone else. Yes, I am a Child of God. Yes, I know my life is in God’s Hand. Still, I don’t want to die today. This morning I conducted chapel at the Rescue Mission. My subject? You guessed it; Fear.
There were a myriad of different fears discussed. Fear of flying, fear of car accidents, panic attacks, fear of getting shot, fear of dying in general. Luke 21:25 says there will be a time when men’s hearts will fail them for fear; but instead of losing hope, we should look up for our Redemption draweth nigh. I am so thankful God’s Word addresses every situation in our lives and we can rest in His promises. This is what the Bible has to say about fear:
Psalms 23:4
Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me
Psalms 27:1
The LORD is my light and my salvation; whom shall I fear? The LORD is the strength of my life; of whom shall I be afraid?
Psalms 56:4
In God I will praise his word, in God I have put my trust; I will not fear what flesh can do unto me
Psalms 118:6
The LORD is on my side; I will not fear: what can man do unto me?
Matthew 10:31
Fear ye not therefore, ye are of more value than many sparrows.
Luke 12:7
But even the very hairs of your head are all numbered. Fear not therefore: ye are of more value than many sparrows.
Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me
Psalms 27:1
The LORD is my light and my salvation; whom shall I fear? The LORD is the strength of my life; of whom shall I be afraid?
Psalms 56:4
In God I will praise his word, in God I have put my trust; I will not fear what flesh can do unto me
Psalms 118:6
The LORD is on my side; I will not fear: what can man do unto me?
Matthew 10:31
Fear ye not therefore, ye are of more value than many sparrows.
Luke 12:7
But even the very hairs of your head are all numbered. Fear not therefore: ye are of more value than many sparrows.
II Timothy 1:7
For God hath not given us the spirit of fear; but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind
I John 4:18
There is no fear in love; but perfect love casteth out fear: because fear hath torment. He that feareth is not made perfect in love.
There is no fear in love; but perfect love casteth out fear: because fear hath torment. He that feareth is not made perfect in love.
Tonight I place my life and my trust in you as I rest in your perfect love.
Saturday, December 8, 2007
IT'S NOT MY FAULT
PLEASE LEAVE A COMMENT WITH YOUR FAVORITE EXCUSE OF ALL TIME.
I’m fat, it’s McDonald’s fault. I made bad grades; it’s the teacher’s fault. I’m late for work; I’m not a morning person. I’m in debt; it’s the credit card company’s fault. I’m mad; it’s my husband’s fault. IT’S NOT MY FAULT!!!!
I can’t help it! I was born that way! It just happened! If she/he hadn’t said that! He/she did it first! If this hadn’t happened when I was a child! My Dad/Mom was an alcoholic, drug user, abusive, workaholic, cheater, liar and thief? I was raised in a bad environment! I wasn’t hugged enough as a child! I was hugged too much! I was in a hurry! I’m Irish, German, Scottish, Indian, Hispanic, Russian, Middle Eastern! I’m white, black, brown, red, green, purple! I’m poor! He’s just a man! I’m a woman! I’m Pentecostal, Catholic, Baptist, Jewish, Muslim, Buddhist, Atheist! The devil made me do it! These are some of the excuses I’ve heard. I’m sure there are thousands more.
Some of my parent’s favorite sayings were, “If she jumped off a bridge, would you too.” Or “I’m not her mom/dad” or “In our family we have different rules.” I remember being so angry at how unfair everything was for me, yet so protected that my parents cared enough to say NO. Also, I was punished for disobeying. Believe me it wasn’t always a time out and never “Positive Diversion or Reinforcements.” Punishment was handed out swiftly and with a strong message that I wouldn’t soon forget.
Being raised in a Permissive Environment may be getting a little closer to a legitimate excuse. Children are being raised to be narcissistic. Parents treat their kids as if they are the center of the universe. How can the center of the universe do anything wrong? Children aren’t told their behavior is unacceptable. It might hurt their self-esteem. If children are spanked when they misbehave, they will turn in to abusers. If a child chooses to let their sin-nature show, reason with them by giving them the correct options. These theories appear in child-rearing books, written by authors that obviously never dealt with a 2, 5, 10, or 16 year old. As a result of parents raising their children based on psychological philosophy instead of Biblical philosophy, we have raised a generation of monsters.
Thursday, a young man walked into a mall and killed 8 people. His suicide note said “I just snapped.” Violence isn’t limited to young men; recent reports state that aggression on the rise in women. Previously, 1 woman for every 10 men was arrested for violence; it has now progressed to 1 woman for every 4 men. On Thursday a group of young women attacked a man on a subway because he accidently stepped on a foot. The young man who had been raised in a non-permissive environment said he did not fight back because his mother had taught him not to hit girls. IT WORKS!!!! Our kids can learn right from wrong, but these principles must be taught.
We may not want there to be any consequences for our actions, but the Bible clearly states that the opposite is true. Ezekiel 18:4 says “The man who sins shall die.” Choose life, take responsibility and let the Holy Spirit give you the power to change. Your children will thank you (eventually).
I’m fat, it’s McDonald’s fault. I made bad grades; it’s the teacher’s fault. I’m late for work; I’m not a morning person. I’m in debt; it’s the credit card company’s fault. I’m mad; it’s my husband’s fault. IT’S NOT MY FAULT!!!!
I can’t help it! I was born that way! It just happened! If she/he hadn’t said that! He/she did it first! If this hadn’t happened when I was a child! My Dad/Mom was an alcoholic, drug user, abusive, workaholic, cheater, liar and thief? I was raised in a bad environment! I wasn’t hugged enough as a child! I was hugged too much! I was in a hurry! I’m Irish, German, Scottish, Indian, Hispanic, Russian, Middle Eastern! I’m white, black, brown, red, green, purple! I’m poor! He’s just a man! I’m a woman! I’m Pentecostal, Catholic, Baptist, Jewish, Muslim, Buddhist, Atheist! The devil made me do it! These are some of the excuses I’ve heard. I’m sure there are thousands more.
Some of my parent’s favorite sayings were, “If she jumped off a bridge, would you too.” Or “I’m not her mom/dad” or “In our family we have different rules.” I remember being so angry at how unfair everything was for me, yet so protected that my parents cared enough to say NO. Also, I was punished for disobeying. Believe me it wasn’t always a time out and never “Positive Diversion or Reinforcements.” Punishment was handed out swiftly and with a strong message that I wouldn’t soon forget.
Being raised in a Permissive Environment may be getting a little closer to a legitimate excuse. Children are being raised to be narcissistic. Parents treat their kids as if they are the center of the universe. How can the center of the universe do anything wrong? Children aren’t told their behavior is unacceptable. It might hurt their self-esteem. If children are spanked when they misbehave, they will turn in to abusers. If a child chooses to let their sin-nature show, reason with them by giving them the correct options. These theories appear in child-rearing books, written by authors that obviously never dealt with a 2, 5, 10, or 16 year old. As a result of parents raising their children based on psychological philosophy instead of Biblical philosophy, we have raised a generation of monsters.
Thursday, a young man walked into a mall and killed 8 people. His suicide note said “I just snapped.” Violence isn’t limited to young men; recent reports state that aggression on the rise in women. Previously, 1 woman for every 10 men was arrested for violence; it has now progressed to 1 woman for every 4 men. On Thursday a group of young women attacked a man on a subway because he accidently stepped on a foot. The young man who had been raised in a non-permissive environment said he did not fight back because his mother had taught him not to hit girls. IT WORKS!!!! Our kids can learn right from wrong, but these principles must be taught.
We may not want there to be any consequences for our actions, but the Bible clearly states that the opposite is true. Ezekiel 18:4 says “The man who sins shall die.” Choose life, take responsibility and let the Holy Spirit give you the power to change. Your children will thank you (eventually).
Tuesday, December 4, 2007
BORING MINUTES MAKE EXCITING DAYS
Robert Shields recently passed away. He left a 37.5 million word diary, chronicling his life every 5 minutes for 25 years. As Journalist Jim Shea stated, “If I am going to have anything to write about, I might have to do something. But then if I do something, how do I write about it every 5 minutes?” Perhaps Mr. Shields kept hoping something exciting would happen and he wouldn't want to forget even one little detail. Maybe he felt that life was so precious and every moment, no matter how mundane, was important. I can’t imagine reading about all the boring details of anyone’s life in 5 minute increments including my own. Especially not someone who had so little to do in life that he had time to record it every 5 minutes. However, in memory of Robert Shields, here is a snapshot of my exciting day.
Stumbled out of bed at 6:45 AM. Grandbabies are still asleep, but another one will be here at 7:30. Washed my face, brushed my teeth, hair (different brushes, I think), threw on the first outfit I could find. Poured a cup of hot coffee, took a few sips to wash down a vitamin. Prepared two bottles for Caleb, got a burp cloth and bib ready, set up his toys and made sure the wipes and diapers were handy. I know you can’t wait to keep reading. It is now 7:30 AM.
Caleb arrives at 7:40; Mackenzie appears at the top of the stairs to greet Aunt Jenesa. Park Caleb in front of toys, Mackenzie in front of TV. Thank God for Mickey Mouse Club. Scramble eggs for two little girls, couple more gulps of lukewarm coffee. Caleb is ready for his bottle. It is 8:15 AM.
Madison’s voice comes over the monitor. Grandma, Mackenzie and Caleb trail up the stairs to greet Madison. There is a method to my madness. 1 trip up and 1 trip down. Both girls are changed from PJ’s to regular clothes, dry diapers for all. Eggs and fruit for the girls, the rest of the bottle for Caleb. Change dirty diaper, Caleb goes down for AM nap, it is 9:30 AM.
My day continued with many of the same exciting events repeated over and over again. Juggled lunch for a 6 month, 17 month, 3 ½ year old. Made sure each one received often and equal hugs. Found time to use the facilities myself every few hours. Ate a snack on the run. Somehow was able to get two babies down for naps at the same time. It is 1:30 PM.
Washed the dishes, prepared the supper, played peek-a-boo, sang London Bridge, changed a landfill’s worth of soaked and dirty diapers, shared some ice cream, put two freshly bathed girls into pink jammies, read a story, said their prayers, gave goodnight kisses. It is 9:15 pm.
Thank God, this isn’t a typical day, it would be even more boring. There are few monumental days in our lives, and even fewer events that would be of interest to a jaded audience. But, I can go to sleep tonight knowing that the things I accomplished today and the things I deemed to unimportant to worry about made a difference in the lives of 3 precious little people who will always remember how much Grandma loves them.
Stumbled out of bed at 6:45 AM. Grandbabies are still asleep, but another one will be here at 7:30. Washed my face, brushed my teeth, hair (different brushes, I think), threw on the first outfit I could find. Poured a cup of hot coffee, took a few sips to wash down a vitamin. Prepared two bottles for Caleb, got a burp cloth and bib ready, set up his toys and made sure the wipes and diapers were handy. I know you can’t wait to keep reading. It is now 7:30 AM.
Caleb arrives at 7:40; Mackenzie appears at the top of the stairs to greet Aunt Jenesa. Park Caleb in front of toys, Mackenzie in front of TV. Thank God for Mickey Mouse Club. Scramble eggs for two little girls, couple more gulps of lukewarm coffee. Caleb is ready for his bottle. It is 8:15 AM.
Madison’s voice comes over the monitor. Grandma, Mackenzie and Caleb trail up the stairs to greet Madison. There is a method to my madness. 1 trip up and 1 trip down. Both girls are changed from PJ’s to regular clothes, dry diapers for all. Eggs and fruit for the girls, the rest of the bottle for Caleb. Change dirty diaper, Caleb goes down for AM nap, it is 9:30 AM.
My day continued with many of the same exciting events repeated over and over again. Juggled lunch for a 6 month, 17 month, 3 ½ year old. Made sure each one received often and equal hugs. Found time to use the facilities myself every few hours. Ate a snack on the run. Somehow was able to get two babies down for naps at the same time. It is 1:30 PM.
Washed the dishes, prepared the supper, played peek-a-boo, sang London Bridge, changed a landfill’s worth of soaked and dirty diapers, shared some ice cream, put two freshly bathed girls into pink jammies, read a story, said their prayers, gave goodnight kisses. It is 9:15 pm.
Thank God, this isn’t a typical day, it would be even more boring. There are few monumental days in our lives, and even fewer events that would be of interest to a jaded audience. But, I can go to sleep tonight knowing that the things I accomplished today and the things I deemed to unimportant to worry about made a difference in the lives of 3 precious little people who will always remember how much Grandma loves them.
Sunday, December 2, 2007
GRANDPARENTING: A GIFT FROM GOD
It is 9:00, Sunday evening and I finally have a few minutes of time that belong exclusively to me. Yes, I am playing Grandma-mommy to Mackenzie and Madison this week. Phil and Holly are finally enjoying their long-awaited, much deserved cruise to the Bahamas. What a great time for relaxation and fun in the sun. The rest of us Michiganders awoke to a couple inches of snow, which has progressed from rain to freezing rain tonight.
It has been 27 years since I had a 3 year old and 18 month old. I don’t remember it being this exhausting. Maybe because at the time I was only 23 years old, maybe boys are easier, maybe because I was such an organized mom, RIGHT!!! It certainly wasn’t because I was less busy; we went to church 4 times per week. I can count on one hand the times we were late and on two hands the times we missed because of sick kids or inclement weather.
This morning was a piece of cake. Easy? No, that’s what I fed the kids for breakfast. Call them muffins if you want to, Madison and Mackenzie call them cake. Holly, if you are reading this, they also had some scrambled eggs and blueberries. I arrived at church with the two girls in tow at 9:45 instead of the usual 9:00. Partly because it took me that long to figure out how to buckle them in the car seats correctly and partly because I didn’t think our pre-service would be so spiritual, I could justify two kids running the aisles and shouting as praise to the Lord.
Nothing can match the feeling I had as I looked down at the smiling faces of my 3 grandchildren during the worship service. Madison cuddled up to grandpa trying to take it all in. Caleb, in his mother’s arms bounced to the music and cooed at his dad leading the worship. Mackenzie, standing by Aunt Jenesa was singing with the congregation. I’m not sure all the words she said, but I distinctly heard her say toward the end of the last song, “Let God, Let God, Arise.”
All three were in my Sunday School Class, the only three. I sat down in the middle of the floor and tried to teach about Noah; finally I just let them play with the ark, put together puzzles, then rocked Caleb to sleep.
I wasn’t brave enough to attempt our usual restaurant Sunday lunch. Macaroni and cheese, tater tots and chicken nuggets work just as well. A note to Holly, they also had corn, green beans and a few bites of a hastily ordered pizza. Then Mackenzie and I went to Wal-Mart for new “jammies” and all watched the football game to round out the day.
Finally, they are bathed, snuggled in warm new jammies and hopefully sound asleep, surrounded by an endless supply of stuffed animals. Yes, I am exhausted, but also thankful to have the opportunity to have that “mommy feeling” once again. To feel those little arms around my neck, a big wet kiss planted on my cheek and a little voice saying Grandma, I really love you. To go to Wal-Mart and Waldies (Aldi) with a little girl who can’t leave home without a tiara. To realize that it is much more fun to have two little girls performing in front of the TV then to have a clear view of the football game. To have Mackenzie jump up on my lap and share a bowl of ice cream, chocolate and vanilla at her request. Like Grandpa, she thinks this(the ice cream) helps her to have sweet dreams; I have a sneaking suspicion they discovered the secret. And finally, to read a bed time story, say their prayers and tuck them in safely for a few peaceful hours. The greatest gift God gives to parents is becoming grandparents. You get to relive your younger years, but thankfully, only for a week.
It has been 27 years since I had a 3 year old and 18 month old. I don’t remember it being this exhausting. Maybe because at the time I was only 23 years old, maybe boys are easier, maybe because I was such an organized mom, RIGHT!!! It certainly wasn’t because I was less busy; we went to church 4 times per week. I can count on one hand the times we were late and on two hands the times we missed because of sick kids or inclement weather.
This morning was a piece of cake. Easy? No, that’s what I fed the kids for breakfast. Call them muffins if you want to, Madison and Mackenzie call them cake. Holly, if you are reading this, they also had some scrambled eggs and blueberries. I arrived at church with the two girls in tow at 9:45 instead of the usual 9:00. Partly because it took me that long to figure out how to buckle them in the car seats correctly and partly because I didn’t think our pre-service would be so spiritual, I could justify two kids running the aisles and shouting as praise to the Lord.
Nothing can match the feeling I had as I looked down at the smiling faces of my 3 grandchildren during the worship service. Madison cuddled up to grandpa trying to take it all in. Caleb, in his mother’s arms bounced to the music and cooed at his dad leading the worship. Mackenzie, standing by Aunt Jenesa was singing with the congregation. I’m not sure all the words she said, but I distinctly heard her say toward the end of the last song, “Let God, Let God, Arise.”
All three were in my Sunday School Class, the only three. I sat down in the middle of the floor and tried to teach about Noah; finally I just let them play with the ark, put together puzzles, then rocked Caleb to sleep.
I wasn’t brave enough to attempt our usual restaurant Sunday lunch. Macaroni and cheese, tater tots and chicken nuggets work just as well. A note to Holly, they also had corn, green beans and a few bites of a hastily ordered pizza. Then Mackenzie and I went to Wal-Mart for new “jammies” and all watched the football game to round out the day.
Finally, they are bathed, snuggled in warm new jammies and hopefully sound asleep, surrounded by an endless supply of stuffed animals. Yes, I am exhausted, but also thankful to have the opportunity to have that “mommy feeling” once again. To feel those little arms around my neck, a big wet kiss planted on my cheek and a little voice saying Grandma, I really love you. To go to Wal-Mart and Waldies (Aldi) with a little girl who can’t leave home without a tiara. To realize that it is much more fun to have two little girls performing in front of the TV then to have a clear view of the football game. To have Mackenzie jump up on my lap and share a bowl of ice cream, chocolate and vanilla at her request. Like Grandpa, she thinks this(the ice cream) helps her to have sweet dreams; I have a sneaking suspicion they discovered the secret. And finally, to read a bed time story, say their prayers and tuck them in safely for a few peaceful hours. The greatest gift God gives to parents is becoming grandparents. You get to relive your younger years, but thankfully, only for a week.
Saturday, December 1, 2007
MORE PATIENCE, PLEASE
2 Peter 1: 5-7 And beside this, giving all diligence, add to your faith virtue;
and to virtue knowledge; And to knowledge temperance; and to temperance patience; and to patience godliness; And to godliness brotherly kindness; and to brotherly kindness charity.
OH GOD, PUHLEEZE, GIVE ME PATIENCE!!!! How many times in one day have I prayed that prayer? This week alone, I can’t count the times I cried out for patience. The turn lane was so long, I had to sit through two lights, Lord give me patience. Shopping at K-mart (big mistake, try Wal-Mart or Meijer), with only 2 people ahead of me, the clerk closed the lane, Lord give me patience. My grandson is teething, and nothing will stop his crying, Lord give me patience. Mackenzie and Madison are coming to stay for a week, Lord, I’m afraid to pray for patience.
God, you have answered so many of my prayers, why can’t you answer this one? Maybe He has, I just didn’t like the answer. If you don’t understand God’s methods go to His Word. Does God have anything to say about patience or is His Word as silent on the subject as I think He is at times? Some versions of the Bible have limited references in the Old Testament, all pertaining to God’s patience with mankind. The KJV contains the word patience 33 times, all in the New Testament, clearly a WORK OF GRACE.
Romans tells us that, tribulation works patience; and patience, experience; and experience, hope. Timothy was instructed to follow after righteousness, godliness, faith, love, patience, meekness. Patience is obviously a virtue ranked up there with godliness and faith. Hebrews informs us that we have need of patience so that after we have done the will of God, we can receive the promise. James teaches that the trying of our faith works patience and reminds us of the patience of Job and what he received in the end. Of course, we don’t want to leave out Peter who gives us the building blocks of Christian character, including, yes, PATIENCE!! In the same chapter, Peter tells us that all of these qualities are necessary in life so that we may participate in the Divine Nature and escape the corruption of this world.
The muddy waters finally become clear; God doesn’t waste gifts. Every gift He bestows on us is meant to be used to make us into His image and further His plan. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if like the fairy godmother in the children’s stories, God granted every virtuous gift to us from birth? But in His wisdom, He understands that our sinful nature would lay the gift aside, never to be used. It seems that we only appreciate things we learn and earn the hard way.
If I pray for patience and everything is smooth sailing, how do I know that God has given me patience? Every time I pray for God to give me more faith, along comes a situation beyond my control. When I ask God to help me have love for others, someone unlovable comes into my life. The times I went to be more Godly, I’m faced with temptation. God is all about building our character and molding us into a useable vessel. This all takes repetition and, here’s that word again, Patience.
There is an old adage that says, “Be careful what you ask for, you just might get it.” If you don’t want the trials and tribulations, DON’T pray for patience.
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