A Post About Nothing

OK.  Please do not read this post unless you literally have nothing else to do.  

Literally. Nothing.  

It is devoid of anything useful, profound, thought-provoking, or meaningful.  It is a chocolate frosted bubble.  

A hollow belch into the blogosphere.  

Vacuous fiddle-faddle.  

If you are debating between reading this or surfing over to You Tube to watch videos of laughing goats, all I have to say is, "Hang ten, Sister!"

And say "hi" to the goats. It will be time better spent.

Honestly, I am simply typing to keep myself awake at Tim Horton's until Christina's symphony rehearsal is over.

Why are you still reading?  Don't you believe me? 

Whatever.  You've been warned, and I can offer no refunds for the squandered minutes of your life.

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A Letter to My Bed:

Dear Bed,

So, not long ago, I bought this pillow.  

It was clever, I thought, and at the time I really believed it.  I gave it a place of honor on a chair near you, remember?  And I snickered over it every night as I rolled into our room...

...well past midnight.  

It made me smile and feel--let's be honest--vaguely superior to all the plebes who needed a solid seven in order to function.

"Ha!" I thought. "Sleep is for sissies, divas, small children, and old people.  I have better things to do than waste precious time lying unconscious in my bed."


 Well, today, I just want to say,  "I'm so sorry."  

And then I just want to say, "I'm so tired."

I'm the kind of tired that forgets what she is saying mid-sentence.  

I'm the kind of tired that catches herself staring for long minutes into the fridge, into the pantry, into the dairy case at Walmart--into the small face of a talking child-- unable to remember why I am there and what I am supposed to do next.  

I am the kind of tired that puts the cheese in the silverware drawer.

You know me, Bed.

I wasn't always like this. Growing up, I was devoted to you.  In fact, I'm pretty sure you were my first true love.  I slept as late as possible every morning from birth and napped voluntarily all the way through high school and part of the way into college.  

I relished the feeling of sinking into my pillow in broad daylight, listening to the lazy drone of lawn mowers and airplanes and delivery trucks outside my window.  

There was something delicious about knowing that I was choosing to shut down while everyone else was still stuck on the hamster wheel of productivity.  Two hours later I would wake up in a post-concussive haze, blinking at my pillow as I tried to figure out who and where I was.  Ahhh, bliss!

For years, you and I were the best of friends.  It was in college, I think, that we had our first falling out.  Halfway through my first semester I realized that my grade-point might be improved by giving up my regular 2-4pm siesta.  I never told you, but I think that deep down I blamed you for the B minus I carried in botany that year.  

I guess I thought you could have told me sooner that the time we were spending together was threatening my brilliant science career.  But you didn't.

And, Bed, it drove a wedge.  I still loved you, but I began to prioritize my life away from you.  My grade point rose.  I realized that I could see you a lot less and still function very well.

My social life improved.  The less time we spent together, the less I felt I needed you.  I discovered the heady feeling of productivity.

And you lost my heart.  

Did you feel it?  Did you notice my absence?  I shudder to think of those nights when I only spent three, four, maybe five hours with you--but you knew I wasn't really "there"--that I was just using you to get me back up and out into the real business of busyness.

But then, college gave way to marriage and children and suddenly I began to see what I had missed for so long.  Oh!  How I saw it!  At every 2 o'clock (and 3 o'clock, and 4 o'clock) feeding, as I stumbled out of your warm depths to retrieve a squalling infant, I promised myself that I would make it up to you someday.  You recaptured my heart, soul, and imagination.  I would sit in my rocking chair in the middle of the night and torture myself with the thought of spending one. Whole. Night.

With you.  

But then, something happened.  Even after the children were long past midnight feedings, I didn't return to your blissful depths any more than I absolutely had to.  

It wasn't that I didn't love you.  I did.  But after so many years of living apart, I grew used to our separate lives.  It sounds like a cliche (because it is. duh.) but we grew apart.  

And life moved on.  It wasn't anything you did, Bed, it was me.  At some point I looked back over the years that had passed since we spent significant time together, and realized that our interests had simply gone in different directions.  

You wanted to hold down the bedroom floor like always, because that is just you!  As constant as the stars above. As sure as death and taxes (wait.  that may be not be the cliche I'm looking for...)

As reliable as the sunrise (better)--and I love that about you!  I do!  Its just that after 12 hours with the kids, I needed some space.  Frankly, I wanted to be awake with just myself.  

For as long as possible.

(And with Jamey--but I don't want you to blame him!  This is really all on me.  You need to know this.)  

With all the other responsibilities I carried at that time, I wasn't sure I wanted to dive back into another serious relationship.  

Even though your dreams of a future with me might never come to pass, I want you to know that I never meant to hurt you.  

I know you care about me, and I want you to know, I have filled those long nights away from you with good things.  Important things.  

Like washing all the kitchen counters and cleaning dog drool off the floor and then standing in the room and watching it stay clean for five straight minutes.  

Or wandering from room to room and listening to...nothing but sweet, heavenly silence.

Or walking downstairs and forgetting why and getting distracted by one of the projects I didn't finish earlier and then going back to grab something from upstairs (for the project) and  seeing another half-finished project and  remembering that THAT project was why I went downstairs in the first place.  

And don't forget the Family Ties reruns that only come on after midnight!  Good times! 

Sometimes I like to stay up and read a whole article at once.  And then get a snack.  And then read another whole article.  And then get another snack...

Or when it gets really late, and Jamey and I can't remember how to navigate from the couch to our room, we'll sit and click on our friends' You Tube videos.  Or watch random cat clips, or virtuoso accordion performances, or incredible moments in sports.    

Sleep is important, Bed, but so are these things!  Can you see why it has been so hard to come back to you when my late nights are bursting with all these meaningful experiences?  

Can you even put a price on a 2a.m. smorgasbord of ice cream, Captain Crunch, and honey-mustard pretzels?

You can?

Two cents?

Seriously.  You sound bitter.  

What are you saying?  

Well I'm saying that I'm tired during the day because I am old, not because I should get to bed earlier.  

Oh really!  That isn't fair.  Don't bring the kids into this.  

OK, fine!  Go ahead and ask the kids.  They will tell you I am fully functioning during daylight hours.  

Any head bobbing during read-alouds is simply a series of neck stretches I like to do every day between 2 and 4.  Lots of moms do them.

Slurring in algebra!  Who said that?  Well, his ears are sometimes iffy.  How many times do I have to call him before he even shows up for his seat work?  

What?  Garbled emails?  I have no idea...exactly who have you been talking to, Mr. "I'm-Just-Sitting-Here-Under-A-Mound-Of-Pillows-Looking-Cute"?

What about the pillows?  

Excessive?  No.  I don't think so at all.  I'm pretty sure Martha Stewart or Oprah or Gandhi once said there is no such thing as too many pillows.  It is a decorating law.  The world is full of beautiful pillows and you are basically a blank canvas, with (apparently) TOO MUCH time on your hands and a critical spirit to boot.  

You know, Bed, if you disagreed with my sleeping habits so strongly all these years, I'd like to know why you never said anything until right now.  If I have been killing brain cells and losing motor skills and writing crazy emails to my kids' teachers due to sleep deprivation all these years, it seems to me that a real friend would have said something before now. 

Yes.  That's exactly what I'm saying.  It makes me wonder. 

You know, I was going to say I had thought twice about my new pillow.  

That maybe you and I could make a new start and build on the friendship we once had, but I don't know now.  

If I'm going to give up midnight Pringles and late night cleaning binges, it has to be for something real, Bed, and honestly, I just don't know where you and I stand.  

A relationship has to allow for growth and change and I just don't feel that from you.  

Frankly, its sad after all we've been through, but I'm not giving up.  Maybe you just need a little more time to think.

And a few more pillows;)

Love, Sandra

Facets

Most of the church distractions I have experienced (and caused) in my 40+ years of life have in no way served to illustrate or elucidate any of the points the pastor was trying to make. 

As a child, I remember being engrossed by the sight of flies beating themselves to death on the stained glass windows during the morning sermon.  Nothing to learn there, but somehow it kept me from hearing much from the preacher.

Then there was the time in junior high that my stomach WOULD NOT stop growling during the evening service.  I was sitting with the youth group, and it was like the pew was a sounding board for whatever gastrointestinal gymnastics my guts were performing that day.  Let's just say humiliation does not inspire spiritual focus when you are 14.

Another memorable service was ruined by a dried up booger dangling from the nose of the guy in front of me.  It kept going in and coming out with every breath he took and amazingly managed to hang on through the entire sermon!   Not the most interesting show I've ever watched, but it managed to keep me from taking a single note.  

Then there were the years where I was trying to keep babies from squawking and jabbering during key points of the message.  Paci?  Bottle?  Book?  Car keys?  Gum wrapper?  Dryer lint?  I was the Harry Houdini of diaper bag conjuring tricks. But as a result, my sermon notebook stayed clamped shut (and covered with Cheerios) at the bottom of my purse.

After that came the season where one toddler or another spent an entire hour doing circles on my lap, alternately pulling down my shirt and hiking up my skirt as he struggled to see what was happening at both the front and the back of the sanctuary simultaneously. 

More recently there was the process of introducing newly arrived foster children to the concept of sitting still for more than 5 minutes.  That came with lots of frantic shushing, hundreds of broken crayons, countless coloring pages, and regular parental dives across and under pews to snatch after escapees...

...and tantrums.

Ahh, tantrums!  Those memorable events which usually ended in me leaving the sanctuary dripping with sweat and carrying the equivalent of a hot, angry octopus under my arm while at the same time pretending that my skirt wasn't on sideways and my church face hadn't cracked off and rolled under the pew.  

Not much I can tell you about the sermons from those Sundays, I'm afraid.  

These days, I have no excuse and yet...distractions still happen sometimes.

Sunday evening our pastor was talking about Joseph and I was listening intently.  

And then suddenly I noticed my ring.  

It is nothing remarkable--just a modest garnet set in filigreed silver, made sometime in the 1920's.  I just happened to be sitting in a certain place in a certain pew at our church such that the overhead lights caught the flat, upper facet of the stone and flashed a pure, bright beam at my eye.

After it had happened a few times I caught myself staring at this brilliant, flawless surface, mesmerized.  I moved my hand to move the light and watched it glide over the stone, illuminating the deep red of the garnet until the rays broke and refracted into smaller beams at the edges.  The light looked like liquid on the stone, impossibly smooth and perfect--and for once, a distraction became a perfect illustration for the pastor's message.

Facets.  

Cut with calculated precision from a rough stone in order to bring out the latent beauty of the raw material.  It occurred to me that the top of my ring is just one of many facets on the jewel.  There are  more underneath and on the sides and they all work together to make the stone radiate the greatest quantity and quality of light and color, setting off the pure beauty of the gem.

Humans have facets too--attitudes, aptitudes, and attributes, cut and polished by the circumstances of their lives.  I believe that every human being arrives with all the lovely potentiality of the Hope diamond, but that unlike stones, we have some choice in the matter of how and by whom we are cut.  

The cutting will come, but the question is whether it will happen under the loving hand of an omnipotent God, or via the random hackings of a cold, dark world.  Some people choose the latter and are never shaped into anything remotely beautiful or useful.  Some people shake an angry fist at the universe and choose to cut themselves.  

But others...others gradually relax in the hands of an all-knowing and benevolent God, submitting to the shaping which will bring them to perfect beauty in the end--and sometimes only at the end.  (This is what the world cannot understand since it sees the end as just an end and not as an incomparably bright beginning.)

These bright gems--the ones who submit to be carved, polished, and even cut very deeply by a Master Craftsman--these can be made to shine in magnificent brilliance because they are in the hands of One who knows each jewel intimately and can fully realize the unique potential in every living stone. 

Consider the faceting of Joseph--the theme of Sunday's message.  He was the favorite son of a favored father, a boy taken from a life of privilege...and thrown into a pit. (Genesis 37)

He listens while his brothers discuss whether they will kill him or sell him as a slave.  He begs for his life, the horror growing larger and larger in his mind as he considers the possibilities.

Money changes hands and he is led away in chains, his family and all he has ever known becoming a distant speck in a vast desert.
 
A deep cut is made and his comfortable old life falls away.


He rises to a position of authority in Potipher's house--the handsome house steward for Pharaoh's captain of the guard.  And then comes a bored wife and a false accusation and Joseph is plunged again into the depths of disfavor, spending several years in prison. (Genesis 39)

Cut.

His ability to interpret dreams for a royal cup-bearer earns a chance at release.  The cup-bearer promises to tell the pharaoh of Joseph's remarkable gift...but becomes intoxicated by his new-found freedom and forgets his old friend.(Genesis 40)

More years pass.  Cut. 

A second round of dreams is deciphered by Joseph--this time for Pharaoh himself--resulting in Joseph's release and ultimately, his rise to the second in command over Egypt.  

The shards and dust begin to blow away, and a lovely surface begins to shine--one that is free of the pride, arrogance, and complacency that once plagued him.  

His heart begins to heal, and upon the birth of his sons he gives them names which mean, "God has made me forget all my trouble in all my father's household," and "God has made me fruitful in the land of my affliction." (Genesis 41)
   
And then, just as the rawness of the wounds from his past are healing, his brothers come to him to beg for food during the famine Joseph had predicted, and all the painful emotions and tenuous footing of his family relationships comes back full force as he faces them again.  (Genesis 42)

Are they still the same, cruel, bitter men they once were?  Or has the God of Abraham been faceting them all this time as well?

Joseph tests his brothers...and waits...and tests...and waits...requiring one of the brothers who had betrayed him all those years ago to sit in an Egyptian prison while the others go back home and try to convince their aged father to let his youngest son--the only other son from Joseph's beloved mother--return to Egypt with them.

And Jacob says "NO! Over my dead body, NO!"  

And they all wait some more. And food runs out and bellies grow hungry, and Simeon and Joseph wait in Egypt, and wonder.  (Genesis 43)

They wait long enough for the brothers to have made two round trips (of over 200 miles one way) before Jacob finally relents and sends his sons back with Benjamin to retrieve Simeon...and then finally, finally Joseph sees that they are changed and different men.  (Genesis 44)

Nice story and it only took 13 chapters and 15 minutes to read it.

But to live it.

It took a thousand, thousand lifetimes because that is what faceting does.  It hurts.  And it multiplies hours and turns moments into months. And this story is so full of pain because it had to be.

Pain changes us.  Cutting, grinding, searing, shaving hours off our sleep and (sometimes) years off our lives.  Taking us from one place to another place entirely.

And for what?

For us...if we let it be so.  It is what happens to jewels to make them beautiful in the hand of a master craftsman.  Facets are cut into blocks of stone and suddenly beauty that no one but the jewel maker could have imagined is revealed in brilliant, flashes to an astonished world. 

 Just think of the faceting that had to occur to bring Joseph from a proud, tactless, hated boy to a wise, forgiving, humble leader.  

It takes so little time to read, but it happened to him as it happens to all of us, in slow agonizing minutes--one painful cut after another.  

It happened as he begged his brothers for his life from the bottom of a well, as he left a pampered, cherished upbringing for the harsh uncertainties of slavery, as he faced his arrest and imprisonment among a cruel and capricious people, as he waited forgotten years in a dungeon, as he counted the long days to see if his brothers would betray him yet again.  

How many nights did he face the real possibility of death?  How many mornings did he awake to a day full of question marks?  How often did he weep for the loss of his father and ache for the familiar faces of his family in a strange land?

Why would God make Joseph wait so long and endure so many false starts before he gets his family back?

 The Bible promises that, " God causes all things to work together for good to those who love God, to those who are called according to His purpose." (Romans 8:28) 

We know that "nothing can separate us from the love of Christ" and that "His mercy is from everlasting to everlasting."  (Romans 8:35, Psalm 103:17)

Matthew Henry's Concise Commentary  elucidates, "That is good for the saints which does their souls good. Every providence tends to the spiritual good of those that love God; in breaking them off from sin, bringing them nearer to God, weaning them from the world, and fitting them for heaven. When the saints act out of character, corrections will be employed to bring them back again."

I don't believe in a God who wastes hardship in the lives of His people.  All through the Bible and all through my own life I have seen Him working with patient strokes, making judicious cuts, taking exactly the time required to bring out another facet which will reflect His glory.

In Joseph's story, his brother Judah needed those long years to grow from a man who cared less than nothing about his little sibling and scarcely more than that for his father at the beginning of the narrative.  He is heartless and mercenary, driven by lust and pride--willing to not only sell his brother, but to order his own daughter-in-law to be burned after she is found to be pregnant (by him!) (Genesis 38)

And then come long years and fear and pain and humiliation, and he is transformed to a son who freely offers HIMSELF as a slave in his little brother's  place, out of his deep concern for his father's feelings for the boy.  

He is a heart transformed--a man now worthy of the blessing of God and of his father, Jacob. (Genesis 49)

How about Jacob's own faceting at the hand of God, bringing him round from a conniving deceiver to a limping, humbled, patriarch of nations?  Jacob "the supplanter" becomes Israel, "saved by God".  

Jacob the manipulator was allowed to live in the rare air of bereavement, fear, silence, uncertainty, and loss in order to heal him from the fatal poison of his pride.  

I found it interesting that God is recorded as speaking directly to Jacob on many occasions during his life, including once as he finally heads toward Egypt to be reunited with Joseph.  

What about all those years when Jacob was wondering and grieving and struggling with his unanswered questions?  Why didn't God speak then as He had in the past?

He could have popped down and said, "Hey, Jacob, remember that boy you thought was dead?  He's not.  In fact, he's ruling Egypt right now.  You'll all be together again in the end, so relax, son!  I've got this covered."

But He didn't speak, because for some reason, Jacob the humble Hebrew shepherd needed that silence to cut and polish and refine him before he rose to stand before his son and the pharaoh of Egypt.

And what about this pharaoh?  Even he shows evidence of faceting in his evolution from "god over all of Egypt" to man who all but turns the keys to the kingdom over to a former Hebrew slave.   In the end this mighty ruler even deigns to lower his head and receive a quiet blessing from the hand of an old Hebrew shepherd.  Who knows what God is doing with each of us?

All around me right now I am watching precious people--jewels--be cleaved along the planes where they are weakest. It is a hot, hard, dirty business.  Minutes, hours, questions, tears, pain, uncertainty.  The process is not beautiful, but these souls are being cut and shaped, polished and set where they can best reflect the light, fire, and beauty they were created to show.  

I am seeing it every day before my eyes, and I am amazed.

Joseph's story ends with him bringing his entire family together again at a time when their hearts were ready to receive the forgiveness that he was ready to offer.  

When at last his brothers were gathered before him he said, " 'Come close to me.' When they had done so, he said, 'I am your brother Joseph, the one you sold into Egypt!  And now, do not be distressed and do not be angry with yourselves for selling me here, because it was to save lives that God sent me ahead of you.  For two years now there has been famine in the land, and for the next five years there will be no plowing and reaping. But God sent me ahead of you to preserve for you a remnant on earth and to save your lives by a great deliverance.

       "So then, it was not you who sent me here, but God. He made me father to Pharaoh, lord of his entire household and ruler of all Egypt.  Now hurry back to my father and say to him, ‘This is what your son Joseph says: God has made me lord of all Egypt. Come down to me; don’t delay.  You shall live in the region of Goshen and be near me—you, your children and grandchildren, your flocks and herds, and all you have'." (Genesis 45)
 
I wonder as he watched his family settle in to Goshen and reflected on the years that had passed, if he blessed the day that brought him out of himself and into the place where he could truly shine.

I wonder if we can find the grace to do the same?

My heart goes out to so many precious people tonight--waiting anxious minutes, dragging one weary foot in front of the other, flooding their pillows with tears, lifting earnest prayers toward quiet skies.

Take heart, Dear Ones!  You are beautiful to God, and in His hands I am seeing you sparkle and shine like the diamonds you are.

************  

When cometh, when He cometh
To make up His jewels,
All His jewels, precious jewels,
His loved and His own.

 Like the stars of the morning,

His brightness adorning,
They shall shine in their beauty,
Bright gems for His crown.
 

He will gather, He will gather
The gems for His kingdom;
All the pure ones, all the bright ones,
His loved and His own.
  

Little children, little children,
Who love their Redeemer,
Are the jewels, precious jewels,
His loved and His own.
    
Like the stars of the morning,

His brightness adorning,
They shall shine in their beauty,
Bright gems for His crown.

Good Tidings

 Christmas, er New Years, Greetings!

As usual I managed to get out a scant half of my intended Christmas cards, so for those of you who heard nothing but crickets from us this year, I apologize!  Here is what I meant to send out, and it comes now with every bit of good cheer and kind regards that it would have held had it been in an envelope:)
  

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I hope this letter finds you in the thick of the holiday season, deeply enjoying your friends and family and the extra layer of good cheer that seems to settle over the landscape this time of year.
  
This year I thought I’d let the children give you the highlights of their lives in their own words.  
Rebekah, age 20 – It’s been a busy but blessed year!  I am wrapping up my Associate’s Degree at Grand Rapids Community College and am so excited to start the music therapy portion of my degree at Western Michigan University next fall.  

This summer I was able to observe/volunteer with a music therapist at a developmental center and I loved it!  It was so neat to see how the kids were touched by the music and then how I was touched in return!  

About six months ago, I felt God putting foster kids on my heart and I have been praying about how I could use music therapy to reach kids who are in foster care or aging out of the foster care system.  I don’t know where this will lead but know that God does and I trust His plan.  

This year I was also blessed to be able to teach a Challenge B class for our Classical Conversations homeschool group.  I’ve absolutely loved teaching!!  I cover six strands each week: Algebra, Latin, Logic, Debate, Science, and Literature, and I have had so much fun relearning everything with my four students.  I am so thankful for my family, and this year my heart has been moved by God’s faithfulness and amazed by the way He chooses to work in my life. 

Christina, age 17 – This year has been a whirlwind!  It’s my senior year of high school and it’s almost over.  Can I be sad and happy at the same time?  Well according to the “Inside Out” movie, you can! :) For school I’ve been studying Old Testament Theology, Spanish, Biology, World History, Ancient Literature, and Personal Finance/Economics.

I’ve been enjoying my third year of playing viola in the Grand Rapids Youth Symphony. This is my first year in color guard in the West Michigan Homeschool Fine Arts program.  It has been a blast to bring back my ballet experience all while dancing with a flag! I also have had the opportunity to run the nursery of our local CC every Monday, and to volunteer at our local Alpha Women’s Center whenever I get the chance.  

Next year I hope to increase my hours there as well as start an intensive reading program (theology, history, biographies, classic fiction, philosophy) with my dad.  “Gap year” sounds like an empty version of what I have in mind, so I prefer to think of it as a “Super Senior Year”!   

I’m not sure where God will eventually lead me, but I have many interests and I would eventually like to help with the struggles that “aging out” foster kids face in some way.  

This year I’ve been very thankful for all the friendships that God has provided me with through letters, church, and symphony.

Elijah, age 13 – I am thankful for so much. First is no snow this winter!  Second is for my friends and family, and third is for a warm house.  One of my favorite things to do for fun is make up stories in my mind and write them down.  I also love sports.  This year I am in Challenge A for Classical Conversations.  My favorite subject is science.  I research a different topic every week, write about it, and give a presentation.  I play basketball for the Southeast Cougars.  I am the point guard for the Jr. High team.  In the summer I play baseball for Lowell Little League.  Next season I hope to pitch for the Warriors, a travel team.  I love my dog and cat and this season!
  
Isaiah, age 10– This year I am thankful for a warm home and good friends. I like writing funny stories for my CC group. I also like building new things with Legos and reading Popular Mechanics magazine about new inventions. I love studying and drawing cars. My favorite brand of car is a Cadillac. Someday I would like to build or sell cars.
  
Jude, age 8– This year I am thankful for God’s creation. I like to play with my neighbor Dane. I love giving my presentations in Classical Conversations. I like to play basketball outside and my favorite college team is Ohio State and my favorite NFL team is Lions. I like to travel to new places and I like writing to my pen pal Jonah in Uganda. My favorite food is chicken Alfredo.

Kaiden, age 8 – I am thankful for my dog.  I like to play football.  I am looking forward to playing basketball next year.  I want to play every position. I like to build with Play Mobile. I like Classical Conversations and my favorite part is the afternoon class with Christina.

Keira, age 6 – I am thankful for my whole family and our dog and God and Jesus. I like to play on the swings and I like to draw and all my teachers.  In Sunday school I like crafts and I love when Aunt Judy gives me candy at church!  I like to work on letters at Grandma’s. I love to go to Ohio with my family.
  
Sandra, age…well, I have one but we won’t discuss it:)  I am thankful for so much!  For 21 years of marriage to a wonderful, hard-working, God-fearing man.  For the pediatric rheumatology partner God brought to him this year (yay!).  For my family and friends.  For my church.  For the freedom to make the educational decisions that will best meet the needs of my children.  And most of all for my relationship with God, whose power, grace, and love transcends all situations and circumstances.
  
There are many things that have not worked out the way we planned this year—every year, in fact!  Jamey’s health is not what we wish it was.  It may never be.  Our family is not perfect.  Our struggles are real.  They may always be with us.  

We deal with the same set of worries that every couple in our age group does—our parents’ health concerns, our children’s futures, our own entry into the joys of middle age:), the increasing instability of the world around us.  

But the good news is that not one of those things can shake the truth of the gospel and the joy we celebrate this time of year!  

God came down to earth to lift our chins, to pick us up from our worries, heartaches, weakness, and sin, and give us new life in Him.  Oh, the joy of that truth!  It endures even when our earthly expectations disappoint us and the ugly realities of life rub the shine off our dreams.

I’d like to share a little Christmas Story--

It was the first Tuesday evening in December. I had made out my plans for the day and carried them out to perfection.  We were going to have a joyous family evening of songs, cocoa, laughter and decorating.

School was wrapped up and in the bag. Dinner was done early.  The boxes were lined up in the hall.  The kettle was on.  Music was playing.
  
And then Jamey came home from work.  Sick. Again.

I bundled him off to the couch, hushed the children, and we began.  OK, I thought.  We can still salvage this night.  We WILL have Christmas spirit!  It’s not the same without Jamey, but we can still have fun.

And almost immediately there was fighting. 

And no one listened to my instructions. 

Decorations were flying up, pictures and knick knacks were coming down, and my inner Martha Stewart was beginning to twitch.  In the chaos we forgot to walk the dog--who then proceeded to firehose my favorite Swedish rug.  In my panic to MAKE IT STOP, I let him out without his leash on.  

Naturally, he saw his chance and bolted off into the pitch black night, which made my younger children start screaming, at which point I slammed the door and angrily blurted out that I HOPED he got lost. 

Suddenly it got very quiet, and I could feel the last of the good cheer slip out of the room.
   
Upset with the dog and disappointed in myself, I stalked into the living room and peevishly began clearing off the top of the bookcase (in order to make way for baby Jesus and the nativity, of course).   

Because I was working in a *hasty* manner, I grabbed Jude’s fishbowl too roughly and it fell from my fingers.  

Onto my couch.  

Stinky water and slimy rocks poured out over my cushions and pillows, the bowl crashed onto my coffee table, and Jude’s precious birthday fish skittered under the couch to join the dust bunnies and abandoned Legos that live there year round.
  
It was while I was lying on my stomach in fish-water, with my dog-pee-soaked feet in the air and my arm jammed up to my neck under the couch, groping blindly for a small blue fish as my children stared at me in wide-eyed horror, that both the humor and the sadness of the situation struck me.
  
Very rarely can I control all of the circumstances in my life, even with the best of plans!  The only thing I can control is my reaction to those circumstances.  I can let the tyranny of my expectations poison my reality, or I can graciously bend to accommodate it. 

Most importantly, as a Christian I am in possession of something that cannot be tainted by ugly surprises of any kind—if only I choose to remember it!
  
2 Corinthians 4:6-10 states, “God, who said, ‘Let there be light in the darkness,’ has made this light shine in our hearts so we could know the glory of God that is seen in the face of Jesus Christ.

“We now have this light shining in our hearts, but we ourselves are like fragile clay jars containing this great treasure. This makes it clear that our great power is from God, not from ourselves.

“We are pressed on every side by troubles, but we are not crushed. We are perplexed, but not driven to despair. We are hunted down, but never abandoned by God. We get knocked down, but we are not destroyed. Through suffering, our bodies continue to share in the death of Jesus so that the life of Jesus may also be seen in our bodies.”

So I guess I just want to say (to you and to myself), remember that even if your advent was clouded by loneliness or uncertainty this season, or if none of your festive plans saw the light of day--or if the best memory you made this December was the dramatic rescue of a little boy’s fish from beneath a filthy couch (yes, it lived!) try to see it all through the eyes of faith.  

Because this is true:  The Good God, Creator of the Universe, came down to give us joy that doesn’t rely on happy circumstances, peace that isn’t dependent on peaceful surroundings, and love that will go on forever and ever.  Amen!  

May we all know this and know HIM better and better over the coming year.  Merry Christmas!

Isaiah 9:6

For a child will be born to us, a son will be given to us; And the government will rest on His shoulders; And His name will be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Eternal Father, Prince of Peace.