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A baby … a newborn baby … with ten fingers, and ten toes …images-8

When the doctor hands a newborn to the exhausted mom, she counts …

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8 , 9 … 10 …  t  e  n, complete.

It is as though there is some primal need to count and confirm the existence of all appendages, all phalanges.

When it comes to giving birth, and becoming a mom (I cannot adequately speak for what it is to become a dad) primal is the best word to describe the experience. There is nothing like becoming a mom to make a woman realize what it is to want to save every child everywhere in the world. Newscasts of missing children, sick children, violated children stir a primal response from us that was just not as strong, not as emotion-filled before the moment when we knew, instinctively, that we were a mom.

Sometimes I think that God, in His all-knowing wisdom and understanding of we human creatures, chose to send His son to us, born of a woman, so as to draw we females to Him and to ensure that we would feel, and understand, and KNOW that hope, and peace and redemption was for us too.

Finally, after years of women experiencing a devalued existence, they were not only offered forgiveness and atonement for sin, but it was also provided through the womb of a woman, granting the opportunity to be part of the deliverance of His people. There was a oneness with the Father God, sharing in His love and pride of His own son, as well as the sorrow and separation that the crucifixion delivered.

How many of us, as women, have seen the images of Mary on cards, in nativity sets, or in stained glass windows or how many of us have heard or read the Christmas story, causing us to wonder, as Mary did, about all that had been told to her, all that was happening, and what was to come.

I believe that God was making a point, for all the world to see, of just how valuable we daughters of Eve are to Him.

“Love came down, at Christmas …
Love be yours and love be mine …”

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images-1At this time of year there is nothing more beautiful to see (other than snow falling … oh how I would love to see snow falling … maybe even snow falling that leads into a school cancellation … but, I digress) than a toddler or preschooler mesmerized by the lights of Christmas. Truly there is no more wonder-filled look than that!

The child stares into the lights, unable to break their glance. They are completely in awe, pulled into the mysterious power of color and light.

I tried so many times with our children to capture that look in a picture, but was never able to get it. As I looked through images online, I realized that I am not the only parent unable to capture that look of wonder, as there were so few photos available.

That light-memorizing wonder is one that parallels our innate wonder for light, but beyond the visual light. That “God-shaped vacuum” within us is one of longing to be filled by the light of the Creator of this world, of us. It is the light from our Creator that is contained in the brilliant lives of those who love Him, of those who allow Him to lead their lives.

Isaiah 60:1-3 says:

“Arise, shine, for your light has come,
and the glory of the Lord rises upon you.
See, darkness  covers the earth
and thick darkness is over the peoples,
but the Lord rises upon you
and his glory appears over you.
Nations will come to your light,
and kings to the brightness of your dawn.

Our hearts are sensitive to the presence of light, and this is the season when light is celebrated. Ironically, not just among Christians, but also Jews (Hanukkah), African Americans (Kwansaa), Hindus (Diwali), and probably even more. We all long for the wonder of light to enter into our beings, so that we might all shine … as we were created to do.

“O little town of Bethlehem
How still we see thee lie
Above thy deep and dreamless sleep
The silent stars go by
Yet in thy dark streets shineth
The everlasting Light
The hopes and fears of all the years
Are met in thee tonight”

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images-5The Christmas season is filled with many things from food, to gifts, to music, and it is music that had me wondering the other day.

Driving recently I was flashing back over the years of driving with students to various service projects, field trips and work experience businesses. It seemed that every memory, of every student I ever drove in my vehicle was accompanied by music … and singing.

To relieve the concern that those of you who have been reading faithfully for awhile now of the concern you must be feeling, I will assure you that I do not do the singing! I would fear that, in singing with my students, I might get sued for damaging the eardrums of those innocent and unassuming teens. After all, my voice is a choir voice … a really, really, really big choir, voice … if you know what I mean 😉 … but, I digress …

So, as I was flashing back, I heard the voices of my students over the years.

I heard the boy with Downs Syndrome who sang silly preschool songs with my son.

I heard the adolescent girls singing along with the group Starfield.

I heard the most beautiful rendition of “Holy God”, that the songwriter could not outdo.

I heard the adoring singing of a teen boy singing “Beautiful One” … not to God, but to another Educational Assistant in whom he saw the love of the God who the song was written about.

I heard the teenage boy who normally preferred choral music to the Taio Cruz “Dynamite” song he asked to play and sing to while driving to work each day.

I heard the teenage boy who preferred his ‘bad boy’ rep. but who always turned the volume up and sang along to Chris Tomlin’s “How Great is our God.”

And this week it was Justin Bieber’s “The Christmas Song.”

What a joy to hear their voices, comfortable to share them with me, as I listened with solemn stillness, appreciating the fact that my vehicle often became a place of unhindered holy ground. Through all of these songs, from such a variety of students, I have heard their voices, but also their souls shouting out through their singing.

It got me to thinking, to wondering about the music of Christmas. So much of the music of Christmas is a call for us to listen, beckoning, to join in …

“Hark, the Herald Angels Sing”

“Angels we have Heard on High”

“Do you Hear what I Hear?”

“Oh Come Let Us Adore Him”

and, maybe best of all,

“… and all the world send back the song which now the angels sing …”

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Gifts are a part of many celebrations at this time of year.images

Retailers are counting on us to spend, spend, spend towards their financial success (and our financial decline, which will eventually put them into decline as well … but, I digress). The signs are everywhere;
SAVE,
SALE,
LAST CHANCE,
DON’T MISS OUT!

The gifts we give are … well … expected.

And that expectation of receiving a gift from someone can devalue that gift.

Let me explain …

When we are dating, a gift, at any time, from that special someone, can melt our hearts! Even if it is not an exciting gift, we are able to receive it with such thanks, such delight, such surprise … because we were not expecting it. After years, and years, and years (speaking personally) in a marriage can mean that expectations are attached with gift giving. The giver might give expecting a certain response, and the receiver might receive expecting something that is not hidden under the outer wrappings.

Recently, my hubby received a gift. He has been coaching a group of boys on a football team, HE has been the GIVER all season … that was his role in the relationship with the boys. But at the recent year end banquet, the boys had a gift for him (as well as a number of individual gifts). This gift was and is so very meaningful to hubby, and he will cherish and keep it always. The gift came from an expected giver … it was unexpected, and it was delighted in by the receiver.

At Christmas time we celebrate the birth of the Christ-child. We sing:

“Come, thou long expected Jesus …”

Long expected …

I wonder if one of the reasons He was not well-received was that expectations had been built up to the point where the gift could not be received with the delight that the Giver had given?

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Not until I met my hubby did I become familiar with the Old English Poem, turned song, “Christmas is Coming.”

It is not known how long ago the words of it were penned, but it is believed that the music was composed by Edith Nesbit Bland (The Railway Children, novel writer) in the late nineteenth century.

“Christmas is coming,
The goose/geese is/are getting fat,
Please put a penny
In the old man’s hat.

If you haven’t got a penny,
A ha’penny will do,
If you haven’t got a ha’penny,
Then God bless you.”

Believed to be written during a time a prosperity (as the goose/geese are getting fat), it is a reminder to give to the poor if you have the means, and if you are not able to give even a ‘ha’penny’ to give your blessing.

But what is the value of a blessing? Have you ever taken the time to say, with a smile on your face, a simple ‘hello’ to a lone elderly lady or gentleman? Or to a child in a shopping cart? Or … to a person who appears to be homeless?

images-10

I remember so clearly (may I never forget) the time my daughter and I saw a homeless man, with his cart, just sitting on the grass of a business one evening. We decided to go to the nearby grocery store and get him a few fresh food items (milk, fruit, a sandwich). When we returned with the food, I asked her to take them to him. She returned to the van with tears rolling onto her cheeks, “Mom,” she said, through sobs, “he said, ‘God bless you’ to me. I thought I was the one who was blessing him.”

“If you haven’t got a ha’penny, then God bless you.”

Our understanding of the Christmas season is one of excesses … excessive food, excessive spending, excessive busyness, and so on. This short, simple poem reminds us of the origins of this CHRISTmas season … it is one of giving. Christ was not born into this world to enable excesses. He, as a child, God’s own son was GIVEN as the Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace (Isaiah 9:6-7). He came as an act of giving, as an act of blessing.

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imagesChristmas has been cleaned away from our house.

The tree is down and out on the deck, the lights are packed away, my collection of nativities are snug in their boxes, and I am thrilled with the cleanliness and order of my living room.

I have been accused of being too excited to un-decorate from the Christmas season. Perhaps it is because I start hinting at doing so just after opening all of the presents on Christmas morning? I do admit to loving the process, but not because I am putting away Christmas.

I think I have discovered that what I love about putting away the Christmas decorations is that I have all the time in the world to do it. I can look at each decoration with precious memories of who gave it to us, when and why. The tree in our home is not an interior decorator’s masterpiece, it is a conglomeration of ornaments of sentimentality, tossed on the branches by our trio of children who look at each and reminisce as they hang them precariously on the tips of the branches.

When we decorate for the season, it is a far more rushed affair! This year even more than others, as we struggled for so long to find the time to all go to get a tree from the tree farm. Finally, thanks to a ‘snow day’ on December 19th, we got the tree. Then, on December 22nd, I donned my grumpy pants, and told the men in our house that they had better get that tree in the stand and in the living room before I got home. Then, on December 23rd, I re-wore my grumpy pants and told everyone that they had better be home and unpacking the tree decorations that afternoon … or else! So, by December 25th, I was just thankful that it had gotten done.

And now it is all over. The hustle and the bustle, the wrappings and the unwrappings, the cooking and the eating (and the eating, and the eating).

As I admired each decoration, with memories and stories and love attached. As I placed each representative of the first Christmas story back in it’s packaging, the song of the season for me played again in my heart.

Although I was slow and negligent to prepare the outward elements of the Christmas season, my inner preparations and focus were perfectly clear all season long.

It stared in late November when I encountered this song, as though God himself set it to reverberate in my ears, my brain, my heart, just long enough to know that it was my focus of worshiping Him for this season.

As if to confirm my understanding of the earlier gift of this song from my Creator, as we sat to enjoy our Christmas Day feast together … snow was falling …

“Oh, You came like a winter snow
Quiet and soft and slow
Falling from the sky in the night
To the earth below”

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They say that we give the gifts to others that we want for ourselves, and so I took this to heart this Christmas with regards to gifting for my hubby.

images-2

Years ago … at least six years ago … I had gone that first time to try out a therapeutic massage covered by the health care plan at my work. It was amazing, and I later told hubby of my spa adventure. I am sure that as hubby was hearing my story of extravagant pampering the wheels in his head had him convinced that his annual tradition of ‘failing’ (his word, not mine) when it came to Christmas gifts for his wife, was about to turn to great success.

Although I did enjoy the experience, it was not a very comfortable place for me, as I felt a bit like a fish out of water in an environment of such luxury. From my point of view, once was enough … but I had failed to mention this fact to my very well-intentioned hubby.

So, when Christmas rolled around, a beautifully wrapped, generous gift card to a spa that I had gone to once, and had spoken so glowingly of at my premier visit, was to be my gift from the man who tries so desperately to please.

This lovely, generous, well-intended gift has sat in and on my dresser for at least six years, causing frustration and bitterness every time it would be within view of my guy.

images-1

But no longer would it gather dust.

Weeks before this past Christmas I made the brilliant decision to re-gift hubby’s spa gift card … to him!

I went in to the spa, ensured that the balance of the card was as I had remembered, and booked a couples massage appointment.

So, yesterday, hubby and I went to share in the gift of Christmas past, as well as Christmas present.

Total and complete relaxation, being pampered and cared for in total and complete luxury, convinced me that the spa, not the ‘Magical’ place is the happiest place on Earth!

When we stepped out over two hours later, we both felt refreshed and relaxed. Gone were the years of gift ‘failure’ and feelings of rejection for the unused, unappreciated gift … all were replaced with the joy of sharing in the gift of well-intentions.

And, so often that is our problem when it comes to our relationships … the love and joy get lost in the misunderstanding of the intentions of the other person. We spin our own version of the gift; his that he is a failure, mine that he does not know my heart. But, in being able to share in the gift, to share in the well-intentions of each of us, joy can be shared … together.

In re-gifting to hubby the gift that he had given to me, we were both able to receive the gifts we both wanted most, enjoyment and time together.

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As we continue with all of the last minute preparations for the ‘big day’ obligation, guilt and fatigue can begin to take over our existence and moment by moment lives. Our duties, our jobs can come to feel as weights upon our lives.

The guest post today is by Ann Volskamp, who was also my guest post two week ago. It is short, and sweet and will put breath back beneath your sails as you look for purpose in your tasks.

After reading The Best Way to do Christmas Cleaning I think you might just have a new understanding of what it is to do holy work.

Oh, and you might want to purchase Ann Voskamp’s book, for someone you love (or for yourself), “One Thousand Gifts

one-thousand-gifts

 

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If there was ever a time when the reality that we live in a sin filled world has been so obvious, it is the tragic deaths in that elementary school in Connecticut last Friday.images-1

It would be impossible for anyone to have heard the news of the horrific events inflicted on the most innocent and pure in our society (children) and not felt the weight of tragedy and loss.

This violent act has some asking the question “where was God?”

…sigh …

I heard a commentary on the weekend expressing a response to that question. The response dealt with how we have kicked prayer and God from our schools, how we have devalued human life and the institution of marriage by redefinition, how we have ignored the teachings of the Bible and thrown out God’s laws from our society.

I disagree! Not with what we have done to eliminate Judeo-Christian values from society, but with the insinuation that the sinful human actions at Sandy Hook Elementary school were allowed as some vindictive act of Creator God.

My God is not vindictive!

Genesis makes it clear that God created our world, from the birds of the air to the fish of the deep to our own humanity. He did so in such a way that the Earth and all within it would be self sustaining. It was perfect!

But, He is not a God who forces himself on us, like a delusional attacker. No, He gave His most high level creatures (aka. humans), choice in obedience … and they (and we) failed we fell for Satan’s schemes:images

“We know that we are children of God, and that the whole world is under the control of the evil one. We know also that the Son of God has come and has given us understanding, so that we may know him who is true. And we are in him who is true by being in his Son Jesus Christ. He is the true God and eternal life.” 1 John 5:19-20

From that moment on God’s ‘pièce de résistance’ (the human race) has been failing, and failing miserably. We live with the very real consequences of being creatures who are born with a sinful nature, since Adam and Eve made the choice to sin in the Garden of Eden. Each and every part of the entirety of creation was affected, and continues to be affected by sin. Our perfect, spotless, free and easy existence has been blood, sweat and tears ever since.

We still live as the image bearers of our Creator, but we are tarnished, bruised and fragile because of it.

Because of sin:

  • we experience death.
  • we experience health problems.
  • we feel hurt and pain and loss.
  • crops are lost.
  • people starve.
  • wars are fought.
  • people obsess about the world’s demise.

Because of sin … our sin.

There is no band-aid for the hurts that our sinful world inflict on us, or those around us. Our world is not Eden, humanity has not been there since the time of first man and first woman … that is reserved for heaven. God is not a superhero, with a cape, and a script. But, just as thousands of years ago people wished for and anticipated the coming of the Savior, whose birth we reenact in this season with young children … like the ones who died so tragically last week, we need to remember that we are not home yet. That home is the home of eternal joy, eternal peace, and eternal safety.

So close your eyes with me And hear the Father saying, ” Welcome home”
Let us find the strength in all His promises to carry on
He said, “I’ll go prepare a place for you”
So let us not forget
We are not home yet,
Keep on looking ahead, let your heart not forget
We are not home yet,
I know there’ll be a moment,
I know there’ll be a place
Where we will see our Savior and fall in His embrace
So let us not grow weary or too content to stay
‘Cause we are not home yet

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How do I introduce a guest post whose writer’s words have so fed my soul, filled my heart, made me weep and taught me that I’m still a newborn in learning to be thankful? As I lay across my bed, with dark shadows of fatigue and stress from choosing to carry the weight of the world all by myself, there are also lines of mascara from the leaking from my tear ducts just minutes ago, as I was gently massaged with words like ointment on my scarred heart.aholyexperience-logo

Let me introduce you to a woman who knows about
delight,
joy,
fear,
pain,
Eucharisteo (Thanksgiving)!

I was introduced to the (Canadian) New York Times bestselling author of “One Thousand Gifts,” Ann Voskamp by two co-workers who said that I NEEDED to read it. I am cheap and thought that signing up for her blog would do just fine, thank-you … I was right … and wrong.

The blog was good, no great! And so I bought the book. I bought the book in early September, and have only read three chapters in the three months, not because it is not good … Quite the contrary, it is too good to rush through! I am savoring it like aged cheese, sweet wine, dark chocolate … No! Not even those favorites can compare. More like those moments when you held your newborn baby and looked into their eyes praying that God would imprint every detail of that moment into your memory … that is what this book is like!

And so today I am offering to you a treat that I think might send you to the bookstore too! Enjoy A Holy Experience

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