The Work of Christmas 
by Howard Thurman

When the song of the angels is stilled, 

When the star in the sky is gone, 
When the kings and princes are home, 

When the shepherds are back with their flock, 
The work of Christmas begins:
To find the lost,
To heal the broken,
To feed the hungry,
To release the prisoner,
To rebuild the nations,
To bring peace among brothers,
To make music in the heart.

as quoted here

best

And the Word was made flesh, and dwelt among us, (and we beheld his glory, the glory as of the only begotten of the Father,) full of grace and truth (John 1:14 KJV)

Usually the rule is: get dressed first then comes breakfast and stories. But it never fails, that when I give in on that rule, things go poorly.

Sam requested eggs and scrambled them. Priya cooked them. The eggs were hot so I let them eat first. Which they didn't eat until the eggs were lukewarm. Aware of the potential difficulties they usually have getting ready promptly, I wondered if they would promise to please get ready quickly after the story. Oh yes, they promised. And I read the story I promised I would read - sometime, not necessarily yesterday or today, but sometime this week. I read it today. I would keep the promise I made yesterday that I would read the book.

As if on cue, things turn south. The nerve-jarring mental game of coaxing them to dress their bodies. (That's a nice way of talking about nagging) If they fail to remove their stinky socks from the previous day, no one blames them at school. They look to the mother who didn't remind them. When they walk in without hats and gloves, they get pity and their mother gets the blame. So I coax and set deadlines and walk out the door and start the vehicle. They bellow at me from the door that they are missing this item or that. I didn't wear any of that last. But I am the mother and as a general rule, mother's need to have these things in order. Or at least have their children disciplined well enough to be able to put things away.

At least seven minutes later than it should have been, we left for school. Me lecturing about keeping my promise and reading them the story and them breaking theirs by wasting their minutes doing something other than getting dressed. They having the good sense to keep their  mouths shut.

The irony occurred to me shortly. Perhaps in my finite way, could I understand what God feels like. Without all my self ambition of course. Is it nearly sacrilege to describe this in that manner?

He gives His best. First a perfect gorgeous paradise. His humans gravitate to the ONE thing they should not do. He knows this and comes up with a long-range solution. After many years, He sends His best again: His only Son. As a peasant baby among the animals. To die the death only horrid perverse criminals are assigned to. Then nobody got it. He came to heal and restore and redeem. They were looking for heads to roll and a big display.

Now we still don't get it. Some are too fixated on preparations for a nice time. Shopping. Wrapping, Performances. Traditions. A few loud ones are busy kicking God in the teeth, burning themselves out obsessing about creches in public places and policing the words of well-wishers. Still more are just looking for a good chance to knock themselves out with one amusement or another and to have a day or two off of the daily grind.

The grace and mercy of the God of the Universe cannot be imagined by mortal minds.He keeps giving his best and we forget, get preoccupied, get straight-up belligerent to Him.  Whew! He still offers forgiveness and doesn't wipe us off the face of the planet.

Thankfully God has everything under control...unlike me. Perhaps- no for sure- He could help me with some motivation for something as small as getting ready for school. And oh how terribly grateful I stand that God always keeps His promises.

hope

"The gospel gives me hope, and hope is not a language the dark voices understand." (Andrew Peterson (as quoted from here)

thinking thoughtfully about Christmas

I'd like to credit Bethannie for bringing this to attention...thanks

middle age

Middle age disturbs me quite a bit. Haunts me.
I don't fear being flabby and out of shape. I'm already there.
I'm not tempted by motor homes or vacations with other white hairs somewhere south. How dull.
Could it be that it's the selfishness I fear?
Not that I'm not already horrendously self-serving.
But observing others, I see this:
You raise your kids. You retire from your job. You find you have some extra cash. You need something to do.
Less energy. More aches. So you turn inward.
"I deserve something nice."
"I raised my kids and put in my time." 
"I worked hard these past 50 years."
Can someone remind me in a few years that I am in process of rotten worthlessness if that is my pursuit?
If it takes watching someone else's kids to remind me of real life. If it takes selling off a few more items in my lifelong collection of stuff. If it takes giving up an evening at home dozing in front of the tube. (that might be a stretch)

Now to trim a bit more self-attentiveness of my current life that is centered around many small children.

two years for El

 

Two grandpas, two grandmas and two aunts attended the celebration. She ate at least two strawberry cupcakes along with her pizza. And she smiled at least twice.

two soap boxes

small print (I'm stepping up now to my pedestal, where, fortunately for most of the world, it won't interrupt much. But it will get the issues off my chest)

 I have to admit, straight up, that I am lazy and undisciplined. And our upstairs generally tends toward cold when the temperature is cold outside. And we own a down comforter. At five a.m., my bed never feels most cozy. But it works well to get up at this time. And so after I sometimes help Mark pack his lunch and breakfast, it's a good idea for me to not head back to bed. So the point is, while I enjoy warm beds and sleep, there are far more profitable things for me to do with my time. In fact, almost every time I hear someone moaning about how little uninterrupted sleep they get, I think of a quote I heard once. A very old lady, in her 90s, who had raised several children mentioned that sleep was overrated and she intended to sleep when she was old and in the home. Since we read the Little House books fairly often, I often remind myself that 150 years ago, the modern convenience of a furnace that heated the whole house didn't exist yet in the average home. Nor did house insulation. In addition to that, I have undisciplined children who were never taught at a young age to go get in their beds and sleep many hours on end at just the snap of my fingers. Therefore, they get up at night sometimes. Sometimes they are needy and need to be held. Sometimes they get scared. Sometimes they cough all night. I guess those are things that come with children. Sleep is good in a warm bed with a down comforter, but some things are more important. For now.


Which is why I get slightly annoyed at the massive amounts of griping among parents at their babies and small children who don't let them sleep 10 hours uninterrupted.


Which leads me to wonder this: if you wanted a perfectly predictable life, why did you have children? Keep a goldfish. When they kick off, you pitch them out. They don't talk or cry or ask you to tie their shoes and zip their coat or request a glass of milk. In fact you only really need to feed them once a week and if you don't, they aren't going to complain. And goldfish never close their eyes to sleep.


My second complaint lies with giving to charity. Apparently the current trend is to be down on Operation Christmas Child boxes. They promote American consumerism and the organization itself has some issues. I guess they've been known to switch items from one box to another. The poor children who might get those boxes might have been the slave labor that put together the cheap plastic junky toys in the boxes they receive. Those are all probably good points. Some are also concerned about the political correctness of connecting the sharing of the Gospel with getting a box of hygiene items and toys. To top it all off, the founder of the organization once equated a certain world religion that is known for blowing people up and the word "evil". Scandalous really.


But I guess I'd rather give and think that maybe the recipient who was getting the toothbrush and sparkling toothgel I packed in a shoebox, wouldn't normally get such things otherwise. 


My real problem with giving involves the gift giving campaign that my county is heading up. The newspaper that came today had a story on the front. The same advertisement was hanging up on the church bulletin board. I still remember following mom around the store picking out things for one of those children when I was younger. These needy children has specific wants. Not just any old shoebox of goods would do. Mom said later that she was buying things for other people's children that she probably wouldn't buy for hers. A few years ago, I was waiting near the doors of a store where a tree was set up with tags listing specific gifts that specific children of specific ages wanted. Really, you need a video game system. A DS or DX or whatever it was called was at the top of the list of things you were asking random strangers to give you to make you feel loved and wanted. While your parents watch TV with more stations than I could afford and you talk on your own cell phone. 


Yes, my criticism does lie in a deep-seated problem I have with giving where there isn't a need. Perhaps I need to look around for some place that needs volunteers to read books to children as gifts or ties shoes and changes diapers free of charge. Is there anyone looking for volunteers to supervise playdough play or to be available at whim to fill glasses of milk? 


I guess I'm still going to fill up those two red and green boxes the kids brought home from school. Sam's been asking when we can go fill them. Priya wants to make sure that this year, we do one for a boy and one for a girl. I still count a hairbrush and pony holders, hard candy and colored pencils as needs. I want my kids to know that much of the world lives on very little. I don't want them to think even for a second that Christmas is about making a large list of wants and expecting to see those things in wrapping paper on Christmas Day.


Maybe the heart of the issue lies in this: when a person or group sees a need and rallies some others to fulfill the need instead of petitioning the county commissioners to lend a bit more cash or the state legislators to ramp up the welfare allowance, things are done more efficiently. 

(I am now stepping down from the podium. There is a massive pile of clothes to be tackled in the basement)