MIST-TERY

When my home was first built, more than forty years ago, this tree was barely thigh-high when planted. I'm not good as guessing heights, but I think it's more than twenty feet tall. It commands a corner of the front lawn. No, I don't string lights on it at Christmas, but it's “evergreen-ness” is a regular reminder of God's amazing plan for plant life. This tree quietly sheds some needles, but just across the fence, my neighbor's willow generously drops its autumn-yellowed covering. (You can see some of its branches just to the right.), Leaf-fall and fall-mist seem to be constant cousins, painting their own canvas of a land settling in for winter's chilling pause.

I recently came across this quote: “The past is history, the future is a mystery, the present is a gift. Every day is a gift—that's why it's called a present.” For those of us who live in cooler climates (with the vivid change of seasons), the cycle of winter-spring-summer-fall brings vivid reminders of a Divine plan even for earth's weather. A season to grow. A season to rest. A reason to awaken and grow again.

My three grandsons were here the other night for dinner. I'd already wrapped their Christmas gifts, which sat in a pile in the living room. Oh, they noticed those! Snicker, snicker, pinch, pinch. They've probably figured out the contents—the typical Grandma-sewn pajamas, now a holiday tradition. Last year they begged to open their gifts after the Christmas eve service, and promptly, one-by-one, dashed into the bathroom to change from “regular clothes” to their new Pj's.

The next morning, they would tear into the “stash” under their family's Christmas tree, including kits of all those little snap-together plastic blocks. You know the ones—their name starts with the letter “L.” Their current “cache” (a full storage bin) isn't enough to their little minds. There's always the “new kit” with a new project to build “just out” and beckoning....

And maybe there's a comparison here between a growing tree and a growing pile of tiny plastic play-blocks. Each has its purpose—the one to sustain the environment, the other to “grow” little minds. The blocks certainly “trained” their dad's mind to “configure” and “connect.” He became an electrical engineer.

Back to that tree. Who would have imagined its steady growth from a “wee thing” to a giant of needled green beauty? And so it should be with us, spiritually. Planted in faith, nurtured with the Word, we are to “grow in the grace and knowledge of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ” (2 Peter 3:18). And when those spiritual growing pains come—when life is hard—to remember: “Tribulation produces perseverance, and perseverance, character, and character, hope” (Romans 5:3-4).

Not wimpy, half-hearted, mist-blurred “religion,” but stalwart faith in a loving God.

TRADITIONS!

 “Traditions”--that song from the 1964 Broadway musical “Fiddler on the Roof” comes to mind as I watch the world unfurl the yearly holiday expectations. Every November through end-of-December, they fill our short, dark, and cold (at least in my area) days with huge to-do lists. Parties, gifts, silly sweaters, shopping, greeting cards...and don't forget to put the manger scene in the front yard along with the blow-up Santa and save out a dollar for the store-front kettle where somebody's ringing a bell.

Do you get dizzy thinking of all that? I do. For those for whom a family death or serious health issue has changed family dynamics, the things that have become “Christmas” start sounding a little “tinny.” To adopt an amusing phrase of our times—usually reserved for somebody with a difficult personality or circumstance—it's a bit of a “hot mess.”

For some odd reason, I recently thought of my late mother's hobby of collecting novelty salt and pepper shakers. This had become a “thing” among many in the 1940s and 1950s. She had so many that most sat hidden in an upper kitchen cupboard. The “tradition” that made those little containers the “must-have” hobby simply faded. Yes, there are folks around who still “collect.” My quick online check revealed someone selling 101 salt-pepper pairs for $475. But far fewer are enchanted than were a half century or more ago.

Maybe this is too big a stretch, but I wonder if some of our holiday must-dos are as compulsive as stacking pairs of novelty salt-and-pepper shakers in a display cupboard. At the bottom line, how much is really necessary? How much truly honors the true reason for the season: the fulfillment of God's promise to send His Son as a Savior?

Yes, I admit to embracing some “traditions” in my holiday celebration. One is sewing pajama pants for my grandsons, along with the trip to the fabric store so that they can pick out their favorite print. This year, as they scrambled up and down the flannel and fleece aisles, the cutting-table clerk watched them in wide-eyed disbelief. What can I say? At 8, 10 and 12, my grandsons can explode with energy. By the time Christmas morning comes, they have figured out which package holds the “jammies.”

It must run in the family genes. In my childhood Christmases, one of my “traditional” gifts would be a new nightgown that my mom sewed. But we had another tradition before opening gifts: that of my dad reading the Christmas story from Luke's Gospel. I'm glad he did. Although I was probably as itchy as my grandsons to dive into the packages under the tree, I needed that Biblical reminder that the holiday's real name was not “Giftmas,” but Christ-mas.

MAKING A LIST...

If Santa was for real, what would be the most-requested item in his mailbox?

I wonder how many millions of notes would ask for “Frozen” costumes and play gadgets. Or toys connected to Spiderman or some other super-power character?

 Back in the really old days—like Bible times—kids had pretty simple want-lists. I pick that up from Jesus’ teaching about children’s gifts:

You parents—if your children ask for a loaf of bread, do you give them a stone instead? Or if they ask for a fish, do you give them a snake? Of course not! If you sinful people know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your heavenly Father give good gifts to those who ask him. (Matthew 7:9-10)

This teaching’s context is Jesus’ “Sermon on the Mount” in which He unlocked truths about a holy but gracious and generous God. I think the point of this portion is sometimes we are asking for symbolic stones and snakes, not realizing their worthlessness and potential for harm. If human, fallible parents can make good judgment calls about children’s “wish lists,” so much more can our Heavenly Father do so.

When my children—now adults and parents—were small, they were allowed to open one gift before breakfast and before opening the rest of their presents.  They knew it would be rectangular and rattle when shaken. Because I favored buying “healthy” breakfast cereal the rest of the year, their joke gift would be the most sugar-laden, crazily-advertised cereal I could find.

The rest of the year, they had to eat healthier stuff, but oh the sugar rolled on Christmas morning. I called the joke gifts “Flicky Flacky Flakes,” and thankfully the package didn’t last the week. The normal breakfast around our house—something a challenge with their lists of likes and dislikes—was usually a bit more nutritious to keep them from fading halfway through the school day.

In my adult world—my spiritual adult world—I try to guard against empty spiritual calories in the morning. I don’t have a “Santa list,” but my first thought in the quietness of an early morning devotional time is like this little song: “Good morning, Lord, this is your day. I am your child. Show me your way.”

I don’t need Santa. I don’t need stuff.  But I do need God’s gracious provision of wisdom to discern stones from the Bread of Life, and snakes from the miracle Sea-of-Galilee fishing nets, in the choices and problems I face every day.     

STRUNG OUT

Years ago, when our now-adult children were, well, children, part of the fun at Christmas was the nighttime drive to see homes and yards where people went all-out decorating. Oh, the excesses we saw. Santa and his reindeer-driven sleigh (yes, Rudolph had a blinking red nose) next to the Holy Family in a shed. Then Frosty the Snowman close to the green Grinch. Sparkling angels! Sound tracks! We wondered if some homes could be seen from space!

Then we came home to our simpler decorating: a string of lights across the front, a modest tree with a hodgepodge of ornaments, a kid-friendly crèche with plastic figures, and a few other family knickknacks. Oh yes, the traditional poinsettia from the hardware store’s Thanksgiving early-bird sale. By January it had lost most of its leaves. Blame my black thumb.

I don’t think my kids were irreparably damaged because we didn’t go “all out.” The best part was that after New Year’s, there wasn’t as much a hassle for the stuff to go all-in, as “back in” storage boxes.

For that, blame their mother’s leaning toward simplicity. This photo depicting simpler living, which I cut from a magazine years ago, is framed and hangs in a bedroom. The lyrics around the edge are from a 19^th century Shaker song:

‘Tis a gift to be simple, ‘tis a gift to be free,

‘Tis a gift to come down where we ought to be.

And when we find ourselves in the place just right,

It will be in the valley of love and delight.

I see this framed saying as I come into that bedroom to change a grandbaby's diaper. I spot it as I come around the corner with a basket of laundry to fold on the same bed. Constantly it reminds me that “love” and “delight” last lots longer than “stuff” (and certainly that holiday poinsettia!).

Sometimes when I hear someone say they bought “themselves” a Christmas gift, I have to smile inside. Maybe they indulged themselves by self-giving, but only God can provide the true “Christmas gift”--and it was a lavish one:

How great is the love the Father has lavished on us, that we should be called children of God! (1 John 3:1 NIV).

Nothing can compare.

PETTICOAT JUNCTION

I’d just finished sewing a little music-themed dress for my granddaughter (her mother teaches violin), but something seemed missing: a fluffy petticoat for its full skirt.  She’s turning 3, which is that “princess ballerina” age. On one recent visit, her parents put on a classical tape and helped her pull on a little girl’s play tutu. Oh, the imaginative moves she made in her “dance show” for grandparents.  In her mind, she was the prima ballerina in the tutu that looks like a mushroom. I could make her a fluffier one, I thought.  Then I thought I heard a whisper, “I will provide.”  The “I,” of course, is God, who knows I try to stretch every dollar.

Right away I thought of checking the sewing supplies area at a local large thrift store, one so overwhelmed by donations that finding things can be an adventure.  I went to its crafts corner where there was a huge tub of random scraps and larger pieces with a sign that said, “Don’t leave a mess.”  About six inches down into the bin I found about three yards of what was probably netting for a wedding veil. Yes, that will work, Lord, I said, finding myself smiling. The checkout clerk said, “How about fifty cents?”  I gladly put my two quarters (plus tax) on the counter, wondering how much it cost in the first place off the bolt in the fabric store. A couple days later, I’d stitched what would pass for a little girl’s tutu/petticoat.

When I get to heaven, I’ll have a lot of “how did you know, Lord?” questions for how He supplied not only our needs (over and over and over!) but our special, unique “wants.”  I’m grateful that the Bible includes stories of miracles of supply—like Jesus telling Peter to go fish to get the temple tax that the local authorities said they’d better pay.  Not land a fish, sell it, and use the money. But this:

Go to the lake and throw out your line.  Take the first fish you catch; open its mouth and you will find a four-drachma coin. Take it and give it to them for my tax and yours. (Matthew 17:27)

Philippians 4:19 has long been a special verse for me: “And my God will meet all your needs according to his glorious riches in Christ Jesus.” Next to this in my Bible I wrote (probably a note from a long-ago sermon): “Jamestown went from 500 to 7 because they didn’t appropriate the riches of the land.” Yes, even thrift stores can hide the “riches of the land” as answers to our desires and needs.

Along the same line, here’s another gifting, sewn up the same day.  These three shirts for my grandsons (ages 2, almost 5 and 6) resulted from a large bag of unwanted fabric I was given.  When I went to cut them out, I realized that whoever pre-washed the fabric had included something dark in the load that stained portions of the fabric. But by cutting carefully, I was able to squeeze the three shirts out of it.

Is there a bigger lesson here? I think so. When God supplies my needs or even wants, He doesn’t always deliver in the way I anticipated. But every good and perfect gift—the little daily surprises as well as the incomprehensible truth that God loves and cares intimately for me--comes from Him (James 1:17).

Joy-gifts

Last week the Seattle paper featured a Norwegian immigrant who just turned 100, and whose life story included eluding capture by the Nazis by a daring, two-day journey by skis over the mountains to Sweden. Eventually, he immigrated to America, settling in Seattle.  When the reporter asked what helped him live so long, he nixed his daughter’s suggestions of eating lots of fish and drinking ten to twelve cups of coffee a day. Instead, he said, “It’s not good to be a sourpuss.  Learn to be happy.”

His reply reminded me of the apostle Paul’s advice: “Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say it again: Rejoice!”  Remarkably, this advice with the bookmark of Philippians 4:4 came from someone who was also a hunted man, and would be executed by the Romans.  Paul wasn’t saying we would live trouble-free lives and be happy-happy-happy.   Instead, no matter what happens, we’re to keep our focus on Jesus, the crucified, risen, and coming-again Lord. It’s called perspective.

I've learned that God has creative ways of reminding me about perspective. The other morning, after praying about some negative people in my life, I was feeling discouraged.  Would they ever let God change their lives? Walking outside, I noticed a freshly-opened rose, sparkling with water drops from the night’s rain. Yes, it had thorns up and down the stem, just as daily life holds its share of pokes and pains. Sourpusses dwell on the thorns. But God continues to remind me to focus on the beauty He offers.  This rose was absolutely splendid, so I took this photo and also downloaded it for the “wallpaper” of my computer screen.  If that rose brought me such pleasure, how much more it must have pleased God when He created it!

To repeat the counsel of that old Norwegian man, “It’s not good to be a sourpuss.  Learn to be happy.”  We can opt to fuss about life’s thorns, or choose to behold the gifts of beauty, grace and hope we have in Christ. By the way, the old man’s birthday will include meeting the king of Norway, for the third time, when that monarch comes to Seattle.  It’s unlikely I’ll live to 100, but I’m confident of meeting the King of Kings in eternity!

P.S.  In an earlier blog (April 24) I included a photo of my second grandson, Zion, born with a cleft lip and palate. Here he is two weeks after his first surgery to close the nose and lip gap. I look at this and say, “Beautiful!”  Too bad you can’t hear the baby laughter when I took this photo with his dad. More surgeries are ahead, but we’re focusing on the rose, not the thorns, and thanking God along the way.

 

That Perfect Gift

I just got back from buying unsliced french bread and bandages at the grocery store (no, the purchases weren't related). To be more truthful, I just escaped mayhem at our shopping center, dodging between preoccupied, frustrated people in the last hours of Christmas eve. Craziness! Soon...we'll be past the advertisements that urge us to keep buying. Earlier today when I logged on to my computer, the "home page" of my internet server boasted, "It's not too late to find the perfect gift." I had no interest in going to the link, but the phrase was pregnant with meaning (and that's pun intended).

After reading the internet's teaser headline, I thought of another "perfect gift" that someone opened before it was too late. I write of it in my devotional, Heaven,The Greatest Home Makeover. In our small town daily newspaper, survivors can buy space for detailed obituaries about someone who died. Some spend lots of money listing memberships, honors, and survivors, right down to their favorite dog. But one day I read a special one in which the family shared its admiration for the deceased person's amazing, self-taught mechanical how-to. Then they added (and for me, this was the best part!) that two weeks before his death (from diabetes complications, as I recall), he "received Christ as his Lord and Savior and was baptized along with his son. God had been patient, waiting all these years for the Spirit to move in his heart, time and again returning him from death's door."

We won't always have chance after chance after chance to receive God's gift of eternal life through Jesus. I think about that a lot when the holidays come and, for one thing, traffic fatalities related to drinking rise. (For those who don't know, my family was almost killed by a drinking driver in 1997.)

If you're reading this and haven't yet received God's gift, why wait? If you've been praying for years for a loved one to make that decision, don't quit. George Mueller prayed for decadesfor two of his friends to come to Christ. By the time he was buried, both made that life-changing decision.

The internet headline, despite its materialistic intentions, is spiritually right. It's not too late to find the just-right gift. It's been waiting for you all along. The perfect gift is a Person, not a package: "Thanks be unto God for his unspeakable gift" (2 Cor. 9:15).

P.S. The photo is of decorations on our Christmas tree. Next to the cross is a note telling of our treasured gift this year: a donation on our behalf to an organization that helps the poor and hungry.

Gift-wrapped

Charlie Brown had his wimpy Christmas tree. In our house, the art of gift wrapping suffers greatly. I know and admire those who elevate gift-wrapping to an art form. Every corner of wrap on the box is folded as neat as sheets on a hospital bed. The tape is pressed on in perfect parallels to the top and bottom of the box. The ribbons color-coordinate and sport little mini-gifts in the bows. Generous poufs of tissue sprout from gift bags.

Let’s just say that protégées of Martha Stewart do not live at my house. I have an under-bed box of wrapping paper, about half of it saved and ironed to recycle, the other half from yard sales. A large box in the garage holds “gift boxes,” which could be anything from a former candy box to one that held an assortment of greeting cards.

Wrapping holiday gifts reminds me of the adage, “It’s not the wrappings, it’s the love inside.” And I remember that God’s one-of-a-kind gift to the world came in humble packaging. Luke 2:7 says Mary wrapped her just-born baby “in cloths and placed in him a manger." The world's most precious baby didn’t wear disposable diapers and cuddle up in a soft, sanitary blanket sleeper. He was bound in long swaddling rags, the custom among the poor.

Recycled cloths—I never thought about it before. But God doesn’t always do things the way we expect.

Merry Christmas! And as you gather up the gift wrappings for the recycling box (or carefully fold them to iron and re-use), make this your prayer: “Thanks be to God for His indescribable gift!” (2 Cor. 9:15 NKJV).

Finding the perfect (sensible) gift

In the Middle Ages, children's gifts came in bundles of three. They got something rewarding, something useful, and something for discipline. You might call it the original sweet-and-sour. That heritage came down to my own childhood Christmases with candy bars in my stocking, gift-wrapped new underwear, and something strange or unneeded. The last gift involved the discipline of a prompt and gracious thank-you note.

“Dear Uncle Bob,” began the creative exercise. “How did you know that a Rudolph the Reindeer knitted red nose-warmer was a wardrobe urgency?”

I always wondered how people could so badly misjudge what a kid really wanted. Then I became an adult and the buyer of kid gifts. The minute you enter a store, your mind turns to pudding. You wonder as you wander...and wander...past bulging shelves. What do they need? What do they want? Yes, they offered a suggestion list, but it was coded with strange letters. CD--candied dates? DVD--dark velvet dungarees? Wii—women’s indigo ice-skates? Two hours later, unable to find those items, you emerge--exhausted and exhilarated. You have bought traditional gifts of discipline. They will require creative thank-yous.

A tie, to hone acting abilities. "How did you know I needed another tie? I really do need to switch my garment of choice from tee-shirts to collared shirts. This tie that lights up when you insert the batteries will become my favorite."

Perfume, to sharpen olfactory acuity. "What a splendid fragrance. It seems a mix of passion blossoms and spearmint. I've never sniffed just that combination. Maybe I'll take some to my chem teacher for help in analyzing its content."

A book on study skills, for the study-challenged. “What timing to get this book on academic excellence. In barely a month, I will face finals but with renewed confidence from this book’s wisdom.”

Pajamas, to reinforce healthy habits. "Mother dear, how did you know I needed new garments for the eight hours of sleep I will get every night? I have forsaken my habit of staying up until midnight. From now on, I will put them on promptly at 9:30, rise at 6:30 and neatly tuck them under my pillow upon making my bed."

Who says it's hard to buy the perfect gift?

Okay, end of teasing! I’m grateful that God doesn't get befuddled about his gift-choosing and bestowing. He knows exactly what we need. He may give a reward, something useful, or something to discipline us, but it will be His very best. Matthew 5:17 says even though we humans, inadequate that we are, “know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father in heaven give good gifts to those who ask him!”

Have yourself a merry lesser Christmas

A few years ago, a frugal living specialist mentioned she made cheap Christmas gifts by stitching pot-holders out of old jeans. To her surprise, hundreds of fans pressed her for step-by-step instructions.

I’ve not yet gone the jean pot-holder route, but I’m still dreaming of a recycled Christmas. I caught the vision a few years ago when my husband and I taught kindergarten Sunday school, a job whose perks included being invited to the annual Sunday school Christmas party. Requirements for attending: two dishes for the potluck and one “white elephant” gift (something humorous you don’t want any more).

One year I retrieved my party “elephant” from my daughter’s wastebasket, where she’d tossed a black plastic spider ring spit out by a grocery store trinkets machine. I tucked it in an old velvet jewelry box.

At party time, who would choose that anonymous gift but our church’s most eligible twenty-something miss, who taught public school music. Her scream of horror was the party highlight. But true to her gracious personality, she actually expressed delight in her creepy gift.

“I’ll wear this when I direct my children’s choir,” she said. “They’ll watch my hands for sure!”

Oh, the variety of gifts in that room. Like a bar of deodorant soap (what I unwrapped). A nine-inch golf bag. Old rock-and-roll record (actually, a secret Elvis fan got it).Of course, the highlight was waiting to see who got the party’s perennial joke gift. Its recipient was supposed to carefully store it during the year, then bring it back cleverly wrapped for the next year’s joke gift exchange. The gift? A crocheted duck filled with melt-in-your-mouth-not-in-your-hand candy, which it dispensed via an unmentionable place.

In contrast, I shake my head at the advertising that bombards us in this season. Who really parks in their driveway a luxury car topped with a bright red ribbon, just for Mom? Who really needs diamond necklaces or electronic gadgets? It makes more sense to me to honor the Gift-giver, and that’s why the check’s already gone to a carefully-chosen ministry.

No, I didn’t stitch gift potholders out of old jeans (though I did sew the annual pajamas for my sister’s grandkids). But I am thinking of how my family might revive the hilarity of the Sunday school teachers’ traveling gag gift. Let me dig around in the garage. There ought to be something. Maybe even a spider ring…..