Circling around to the Circle of Life

There are times when things rattle around in my head, making endless and annoying circles until they find an outlet.  One effective such exit is my fingers on a keyboard.  Sometimes what comes out is still circular, and maybe even annoying.  Let's see what happens today.

Sunday morning my bestie's aunt, Big Mary (or just Big), was taken by ambulance to the hospital, dehydrated and generally not feeling well.  She is 92 years young and we aren't done with her smile and sweet disposition.  And fortunately it appears she isn't done with us,either.  Get well quickly, Big!

At approximately the same time, 10 miles away, my youngest grandson was employing similar transportation to a similar local.  There are worse things than getting that news - like finding a blue tinged baby and tripping over your own stomach while restarting your own heart and hoping his is, too.  Thankfully, it is a happily ever after story.  Elijah is back to his little boy energetic self.

It's a time honored tradition that Granmas will cross over before Mamas and Daddys and definitely before grandboys and girlies.  When someday Elijah does breathes his last, I want to be a distant, though sweet, memory.  I want to be waiting for my grands on the other side with arms open wide and kisses and "I love yous" that I have been saving up for decades.

Time honored tradition, indeed, but not always life honored.  Life can be messy.  And Sunday reminded me again that wanting does not always intersect with having.  I can say "thank you, Lord" and "praise God" that a little boys uses his toddler legs to keep up with his older brothers and his special brand of sloppy kisses to shower his sisters.  But what if God's plans had been contrary to mine?  Would I still praise Him in the storm?  I want to say "Yes!"  But I'm not sure I even have enough faith to believe my own proclamation.

What I can do is say a sincere thank you to the Lord of the Universe who saw fit to send two sets of first responders and two hospitals to nurture the lives placed in their hands.  Beyond that, all I can do is take tomorrow on faith - faith that faith will be enough when paths inevitably diverge.

Merry Christmas!

Traditions.

They connect us, they ground us, 

they comfort us.

They can also distract us.

Why do we do the things we do?

If we get too caught up in the 

Tradition

of it all we risk loosing sight

of the reasons behind those traditions.

Christmas is a fun, joyous time.

It has many traditions.

Some relate back to the true 

"reason for the season."

And some, it's a bit of a stretch.

Lory and I have traditions.

Our friendship is rooted in God.

It may be a stretch to find 

God in some of our traditions. 

(think Margarita Fridays)

But they all 

connect us,

ground us, 

and comfort us.

Thanks for being part of this tradition of ours.

Merry Christmas!

O Tannenbaum

Is there anything more Christmas than a Christmas tree?  Besides the bit of drudgery digging it all out of the crawl space, I love everything about it!  Especially since we got a pre-lit tree a couple of years ago.  For you purest who go out and cut your own tree, I envy you the adventure, but not January clean up.

I love hanging the ornaments on the tree.  Over the years, we have quite the collection.  We add a new ornament to commemorate the year, which gives me time for reflection.  There is a purple snowman, expertly colored by a certain grandboy, and there is a carousal pony made by my grandmother.  Some ornaments are bright and shiny.  Some are over half a century old, tired but true.  I remember with great fondness the ornaments that came from friends and family.  There are no random ornaments on my tree; each has a story, a connection, a bit of love.

The Christmas tree celebrates family and love.  Its branches display iconic Christmas, reminding us of the birth of a baby, born to save the world.  The baby's life is bookended with trees.

But the first one means nothing without the last.

Happy Birthday, Jesus!

Angels

Angels we have heard on high

sweetly singing or' the plains.

So, Angels and the Christmas story

are a no-brainer, and after Rudolph, 

I'm happy for a no-brainer!

We know that angels first heralded

the birth of our Savior, 

but from everything I've read, 

sweetly singing was probably not the 

most accurate description of their announcement. 

Angels are God's warriors.

Most people were VERY afraid when 

they encountered an angel.
Mike is of the opinion they probably
didn't even have wings.
Talk about dispelling all my former
beliefs of sweet cherubic babies
with smiles and wings!

God is full of surprises.
He chose a TEENAGER as a mother.
His son was born in a stable.
He announced the great news to the lowest of society.
He has an army without guns or wings.
He knew what He was sending His son down into,
and that His son would die a terrible death
at the hands of those He longed to save,
and yet He did send that sweet baby to us.

And the biggest surprise?
He did this all to bring a poor wretched sinner
like me closer to Him.

Illustration by Mary Holder Naegeli

http://www.sevenwholedays.org/2011/09/29/angels-the-record/

Don't Stand Under the Mistletoe. Really - Don't!

Have you found yourself standing under any mistletoe this year?  Nothing wrong with a stolen kiss or two!  I was expecting to find some explanation of this tradition like white for purity and green for the everlasting Father.  But alas, like many other traditions, kissing someone under the sprigs of the plant was transplanted from other sources, probably the Druids or the Norse.  Early Christians tried to outlaw the tradition.  When that was unsuccessful, others tried to welcome it with open arms.  One minister in England held a special Mistletoe service where parishioners could come to have their sins pardoned - with a kiss, I assume.

There are two fun facts about this Christmas cupid, though. First, while the berries are poisonous to us, they are good for birds, animals, butterflies and bees.  Secondly, the word actually comes from Anglo Saxons: "mistle" (meaning dung) and "tan" (meaning twig or stick).  It's pretty, poetic name hides its literal meaning: poo on a stick.  Think about that next time you kiss someone standing under it!

So far, I have done a miserable job of relating this tradition back to Christ.  And I fear I have gone too far flung to make the connection now, but I'll give it a try.  I was going to say let's skip fun fact #2, but maybe not.  Human history being what it is, calling us Mistletoe in the literal sense seems an accurate description.  Yet, God did indeed bend down and give us a kiss.  And not a quick peck on the cheek, either.  He lived and breathed and walked among us.  He cried with us, laughed with us and washed our feet.  His love transforms us, making the unmentionable beautiful and lovable, indeed.  

Mistletoe, what a lovely term and a beloved tradition.

Reindeer

Hoboy.

While there are animals present in the Christmas story,

I'm not entirely sure how I am going to 

find the Christ in them, much less Rudolph.

I appreciate the fact that God chose to reveal 

Himself to the lowest of low in the shepherds.

But, even before they got there, the animals were present.

So, perhaps there is a thin thread there....

Rudolph was a tale about bullying

before we knew that term.

Christ came to all of us, but most especially,

I feel, the oppressed. 

Another thin thread....

A light on Rudolph's nose lit his way

and saved him from the bullies.

Christ is the light of the world and He saves 

us from satan.

Another thin thread.....

If I gather enough of these can I weave a 

"sellable" tale?

LOL

Away in the Manger

Left to its own devices, the church tends to make the ugly beautiful (like the cross) and the mundane extraordinary (like the manger).  We are more comfortable with a shiny and sanitized Lord than the reality of the messes of life.  I count myself in that "we".

In 1223, St. Francis of Assisi is credited with the start of the tradition of the creche.  Moving the Christmas service outside to accommodate the crowds, he had a simple manger constructed and brought in cattle and a donkey.  So overcome was he with the humility of a King in the manger, that he preached with tears running down his cheeks.

It's probably time, don't you think, to look closely and see the hay mixed with chicken feathers and bits of rocks and mud.  It's time to feel the crude construction of a trough meant for an animal, not a newborn.  It's time hear the braying of the donkey and rustling of the animals as they settle in for the night.  It's time to smell, not the sweet baby scent or even the rustic scent of new hay, but rather, the stench of the assembled livestock.  I don't really want Jesus sleeping there or Mary and Joseph having to watch their step when they get up in the night to care for their child.

I like a tidy manger.  But I am, quite literally, eternally grateful that Jesus is a King of the messes, as well.  Especially the messes.  There is hope for me only because He isn't afraid to get His hands dirty - and He proved from His very first moments.  Apparently a stable is a perfect nursery after all.

Christmas Jammies

Shanna started it. 

These jammies killed it.

The guys retaliated with a motorcycle in my

 family room and leather jackets.

So now it's a chick thing.

And everyone is happy.

And I will leave you with this classic:

3 Wise Women would have:

Asked for directions.

Been there on time.

Cleaned the stall.

Delivered the baby.

Knit a blanket.

And left the family with a casserole.

And worn their matching jammies.

There. 

An Extra Gift Under the Tree

Starting with the day after the day of thankfulness (or even the same day thanks to retailers and online purveyors), the hunt is on for perfect Christmas gifts.  Personally, I'm always thankful when I have at least a generous portion done before Thanksgiving, but unfortunately that's mostly a pipe dream.  We knock ourselves looking out for the perfect gift - at the right price.  Something big and showy or something small and precious or something silly but thoughtful.

And once the somethings are determined and purchased, there is still the presentation to be considered:  bows and wrapping and finding the AWOL scissors and tape.  I'm too cheap to buy bags and won't be bothered with bows.  No one ever comments on my wrapping job - they are too polite to point out the obvious.  I just hope they like what's inside, which is, after all, the more permanent part.  Every year I promise myself to cut back, and it seems every year the only thing I cut back on is cutting back.  Sigh.

All the planning and rushing and efforts to make things perfect remind me of Jesus - not the babe in the manger, but the adult speaking to His friend, Martha.  He gently chided her for her harried preparation for company, while her sister sat at Jesus' feet, enjoying Christ's company and teachings. Luke 10:41-42

Maybe I need to put an extra gift per person on my list - that is, as I wrap their gift I will pray for the intended receiver - for their peace and blessing.  I'm pretty sure it would be a gift I would give myself as well.

Christmas Cookies

Lory and I know Christmas Cookies.

We aren't sure when the tradition began,
but we do agree is started in the old house,
so at least 15 years ago.

The baking and giving of
Christmas Cookies
is derived from the same set of circumstances
as those of ginger bread.
They were an extravagant gift.

Christ was God's most extravagant gift.

Most people I know bake their cookies
in community, it's not usually
a solo endeavor.
God created us to live in community.

So, I am left to ponder if
The Christ
is in the cookies
or the time together?

We Won't Go Until We Get Some

When Merry and I were discussing the theme for this year's Christmas blogs, we threw out Christmas traditions that we could comment on.  I said stockings, she said elves (she got that one).  I said caroling, she said pickle on the tree (she got that one).  I said Rudolph (she got stuck again), and she said figgy pudding.  When we drew topics, that lot fell to me.

Figgy pudding is a British equivalent of fruit cake, though without florescent/radiated fruit.  It does, however, get lit on fire, which is one of two reasons it is not recommended for minors.  The other would be the accelerant that makes it burn so brightly.  Apparently figgy pudding can be made in November and be expected not just to last until Christmas but actually improve with age as the brandy and rum penetrates the fruit and cake.

There is nothing Christ-like about figgy pudding, except maybe that the Puritans, in the name of Christ, ban it in the 1600s, probably because of the alcohol.  If we wanted to reach far enough (far-fetched, that is), we could call it a birthday cake for the baby, but that's just wrong.

If there is a connection, it's just that it's a joyous time of year - a time of celebration!  Dining together on high calorie desserts is just fun and it brings us together, and that's all good.  So, there.  I've never had nor even seen a real figgy pudding.  But if you want to make one, I'll bring matches and come celebrate with you!

We do, indeed, Wish You A Merry Christmas!

Santa, Baby

For by one sacrifice he has made perfect forever 

those who are being made holy.

Hebrews 10:13

Naughty or nice?
Santa will judge you.
Each year.
He's got a list.
You gotta earn your
"nice pass"
every year.

God has a list too.
It's called the Book Of Life.
He'll judge you, but only once.
All you have to do is make a choice.
Once.

Advent Calenders

They come in all shapes and sizes.

Some are a bit more obvious as to what

Advent

they refer.

But apparently 

Chuckie The Advent Santa

is wrong.

 But I digress.

Advent calendars are one of our more clear signs
of the true meaning of the season but even
they have gotten skewed over time.
As a child I remember just looking forward to
the Santa at the end and the BIG piece of chocolate.

I think I'll take this Christmas to be more deliberate
with Ava and Maddie as we open the Advent bags in my
window, and put the ornaments inside the bags
on the tree,
and they enjoy the little treat in each one,
that the true treat we await
is the
Christ Child!

Ahh, The Movies!

Christmas movies.

I love Christmas movies.

But I don't mean those made-for-TV kind.

My favorites are

National Lampoons Christmas vacation

followed closely by 

White Christmas.

But I have to get in at least one viewing of

Elf,

The Grinch Who Stole Christmas (both versions)

and

Miracle On 34th Street (again, both versions).

In all of these, you would be hard pressed to find the

Christ.

But you know where I find Him?

In the (sometimes) quiet time spent with 

people I love.

Hunkered down with blankets 

and warm (or warming) drinks (wink, wink).

CHRISTmas draws us together.

We seem to crave community stronger this time of year.

God created us to be in community.

God came down to earth to be with us.

I'm not entirely certain God approves of my taste

in Christmas movies, 

but I'm sure He is smiling, 

watching down as His children 

come together.

( And maybe shaking His head a little bit.)

Kosher Or Dill?

My husband's family is from Germany. 

I mean, his mother and father both 

born and mostly raised.

So when my sister came across an ornament

in the shape of a pickle and was told it was an old

German tradition she naturally got one for 

my family's tree.

Only problem was, 

NO 

German person I know has

EVER 

heard of this tradition. 

Me thinks it was good salesmanship

on some salesman's part with

an over abundance of weird

pickle ornaments. 

But Gaye wasn't the only sucker, 

they sell TONS of these things!

LOL

So, how to connect a pickle, 

and the myth of a pickle at that!

to Christmas?

The story is a lie.

There's a lie woven into the Christmas story.

Herod was a liar, not a very good one, 

but a liar nonetheless.

He told the wise men that he 

would also like to worship the

Christ child.

Thankfully God intervened and had 

them travel home a different way.

Sorry 'bout ya, Herod.

God wins!

Again.

Still.

Always.

Ding Dong

Bells.

They come out this time of year in sorts of 

shapes, 

sizes,

and purposes.

 Jingle bells.

They herald the advent of that 

jolly, round guy.

The Salvation Army bells.

They herald the advent of the giving season.

 The bells at church.

They herald the advent of 

our Savior.

Bells ring out!

They are loud!

They can't be ignored!

The angels that first Christmas 

had many the same traits.

So much so that the shepherds first reaction was fear.

I don't think any of us could fathom

the thundering of the angels. 

But the next time that Salvation Army

bell ringing gets intense, 

let it give you pause to ponder the 

angles and the good news they brought.

Elves. That's Right, Elves

OK, so the premiss of this series

of blogs is to find the 

Christ

in Christmas symbols, etc.

 Not a lotta Christ there.

Shepherds. 

I'm thinking shepherds.

They were very low on the class totem pole.

They did hard work.

People would go out of their way to not notice them.

Elves are definitely Santa's flunkies.

They work hard.

They are short, easily overlooked.

There you have it!

See an elf, think of shepherds!

I love the way the shepherds play into the 

Christmas story.

I love that God chose the lowest of the low

to make His big announcement to

and then use those same overlooked people

to spread the good news, 

Our Savior is Born!

If God can use Shepherds, 

it gives me hope that He can use me as well. 

Christ is our Savior!

The Light Of The World

Candles.

They are one of the no-brainer ones to me.

The single candles people light in their windows.

What started out as an Irish custom,

born in the time when it was against
the law for catholics to

practice their faith,

as a sign to any traveling priests 

that they had found a safe home.

It has become a sign of welcome.
Christ is welcome.

The candles in the Advent Wreath representing

Hope

Preparation

Joy

Love 

Christ.

Jesus is the light of the world.

From that glorious star Lory wrote about to 

this humble little flame.

A Little Red, White and Jesus

Ha! 

Done and done!

But just to expound a bit,

turned on it's end, it becomes a shepherd's hook. 

Shepherds in the field, 

and the Good Shepherd.

The white can represent Christ's purity

and the red, His blood.

That's where I want to sit a moment.

I really appreciate a moment when I can stop
and remember, truly appreciate,
that that little Christ babe
came to do big work.

There was a moment like that at church last week.
We sang a new-to-me song.

Wish that I was there
 on that silent night
when your tiny heart
started beating for mine.*

The red of Jesus' blood.
Coursing through that tiny heart.
Beating for me.
The blood that would be shed to set me free.

Jesus is the reason for so much more than the season.

*Jesus Is Alive, by Josh Wilson

Advent 2015!

Here we go, another year!

This year Lory and I have decided to spend
Advent looking for
The Christ
in the symbols, traditions and
sometimes trappings of what can so easily
become a Christ-less time of year.

Somethings will be no-brainers,
angels,
mangers,
candles.

Others will take a bit of creativity,
yule logs,
eggnog,
and a certain red-nosed reindeer.

Lory and I are up to the challenge.
Kind of.
Sort of.
Maybe....

Really? Rudolph?