Our Pastor has been speaking on the Ten Commandments. We came to the last one today with “Thou shalt not covet.” He talked about the fact that coveting is a twisted desire – when we want something (or someone) so badly that it leads to discontent; when we want any one thing more than God; when it becomes “I would just be happy if…” and that answer is anyone or anything other than God.
It’s kind of funny because that whole contentment thing applies on so many levels, not just in being satisfied with what you have. I’ve taken this Sunday afternoon off, as I do every Sunday. I really regret that I did not start this practice until about five years ago. It is amazing how allowing myself this one day of total rest refreshes me so.
This afternoon I’ve been contemplating going to the Manning Restaurant tonight for our church celebration of Thanksgiving. I’m looking forward to seeing everyone again, even though I just saw them this morning. It’s a blessing to be in a church where your fellow church members are truly your family.
Yet part of me also is looking forward to coming back home tonight, getting in my jammies and snuggling down into the bed. Then tomorrow I’ll spend most of the day in the kitchen cooking for the upcoming Thanksgiving holiday week in Virginia with our family. I’m in a frenzy of excitement – simply can’t wait. Yet, I will be in a frenzy to return to our sweet home again. My mom used to call it wishing your life away.
I’m sure it’s the same with everyone – when you fly, don’t you see the trip out as a series of mileposts to get through? If I can just get checked in…if I can just get through security…we’ll board soon…we’re landing, if I can just get off this plane. And so it goes until we reach our destination and we begin to look forward (with dread or anticipation depending on where we are) to the trip home.
It’s not at all about being discontented. In fact it’s the opposite – it’s good wherever and whenever I am. Always looking forward to something, always waiting for it to be over so I can take a deep sigh and rest. And here’s the thing – it will be that way until I can finally return home, my true home.
So this is my very strange Thanksgiving post. Am I grateful? You betcha. For so many things – my faith, my husband, my children and grandchildren, my church, friends, South Carolina. But most of all because I have Jesus – and because of Him, I know where I’m going and that it will be good to be home.
2 Peter 3:13, 14; 2 Timothy 1:12b
But in keeping with his promise we are looking forward to a new heaven and a new earth, the home of righteousness. So then, dear friends, since you are looking forward to this, make every effort to be found spotless, blameless and at peace with him… I know whom I have believed, and am convinced that he is able to guard what I have entrusted to him for that day.
Sunday, November 21, 2010
Thursday, November 18, 2010
I'll Have a Green Christmas
Nope, you’re not even close. Hard to believe, but I’m not about to talk snow. I finally made one of the hardest decisions I’ve had to make. This year we will be greening up Christmas with an artificial tree. The fact that our last few trees had curvy trunks encouraged my choice. Let me start way back.
Forty years ago Steve and I celebrated our first Christmas together in our own home. For the first two years of our married lives, we lived in a small cottage with three rooms and a bathroom. A large room across the back became our bedroom and den. I painted the paneled cabinet doors in the fairly large kitchen with a combination of yellow, orange and avocado enamel paint – it was the 70’s after all. Our tiny living room had space for only a small love seat and a drop-leaf table, closed and pushed against the wall.
Excited to decorate our home for our first Christmas, we drove to the Kroger store to check out the fresh trees there. That valuable lesson of “everything looks larger once you get it in the house” was one I learned the hard way. We found a beautiful tree with an amazingly large trunk. We paid for it in a fever pitch of excitement and Steve dragged it to the car – carrying was not an option. The tree was not going to fit either in our car or on the top of it. I called my Aunt Dorothy who rescued us in her station wagon.
Several strings of white lights, a new larger tree stand and dozens of blue ornaments later, Steve and I sat on the floor at the base of our tree, admiring our work. The sofa and table had been relocated to the den and kitchen. The tree was huge, beautiful and I was hooked. Then and there I made an unconscious decision that all our Christmas trees would push the boundaries of space and patience.
Over the years we sawed, cut off limbs, replaced bent tree stands and bought more lights; but our trees were always the focal point of our home from Thanksgiving until New Year’s Day.
Once the kids were able to walk, our most meaningful holiday tradition became going to the woods or to tree farms to get our tree. Every year found us on a horse- or tractor-pulled wagon riding out to fields of beautifully pruned Scotch pines or fir trees. And every year my insurance costs rose as I stood on chairs or step-ladders to lean precariously into the tree to decorate the top.
I remember the year our tradition began to go awry. The tree-gathering trip was as fun as always; but why, oh why did we not see that deep curve in the spine of our lovely Scotch pine? Somehow we managed to get it into the tree stand and keep it up through the holidays, but the trend was set.
By this time the kids were grown and we were trooping through the trees and playing hide-and-seek with kids and grandchildren. The next year our usual tree farm was “catching its breath” and closed for the year and we found another one online – the beginning of the end. We drove into the next county and piled out of the cars (by now we were transporting two trees) and into the fields. Nothing; there was nothing that appealed to us and I began to get an uneasy feeling that our tradition was leaving us. We separated and each family drove to lots to pick out trees.
That particular Christmas, the tree was so curvy (and at this point we were trying to watch for this!), it kept falling. We finally had to undecorate it and get another tree. The next year was pretty much a repeat and I was beginning to yearn for a tall, straight tree that I could count on standing.
The next year we had moved to South Carolina and were still in many boxes because we were having work done on the house. I bought a little live Norfolk Island pine and decorated it; but Christmas was not the same.
Over the spring and summer months of this past year, I have been struggling with the artificial tree decision. Today I ordered the tree and I’m excited! Because I believe we can see any circumstance through the glasses we choose to wear. And today, I’m wearing my “this will be a beautiful, tall, straight tree and you will never again have to struggle with lights” glasses. I could easily go the other direction with my mood but Steve and I have way too much to look forward to.
However, cautious optimism is the phrase of the day. Though I do have a nice, sturdy stepstool, I am getting older; and I ordered a 7 ½ foot tree. The way I see it, that was a compromise. We have cathedral ceilings and I could have gone for the 12 foot one.
Forty years ago Steve and I celebrated our first Christmas together in our own home. For the first two years of our married lives, we lived in a small cottage with three rooms and a bathroom. A large room across the back became our bedroom and den. I painted the paneled cabinet doors in the fairly large kitchen with a combination of yellow, orange and avocado enamel paint – it was the 70’s after all. Our tiny living room had space for only a small love seat and a drop-leaf table, closed and pushed against the wall.
Excited to decorate our home for our first Christmas, we drove to the Kroger store to check out the fresh trees there. That valuable lesson of “everything looks larger once you get it in the house” was one I learned the hard way. We found a beautiful tree with an amazingly large trunk. We paid for it in a fever pitch of excitement and Steve dragged it to the car – carrying was not an option. The tree was not going to fit either in our car or on the top of it. I called my Aunt Dorothy who rescued us in her station wagon.
Several strings of white lights, a new larger tree stand and dozens of blue ornaments later, Steve and I sat on the floor at the base of our tree, admiring our work. The sofa and table had been relocated to the den and kitchen. The tree was huge, beautiful and I was hooked. Then and there I made an unconscious decision that all our Christmas trees would push the boundaries of space and patience.
Over the years we sawed, cut off limbs, replaced bent tree stands and bought more lights; but our trees were always the focal point of our home from Thanksgiving until New Year’s Day.
Once the kids were able to walk, our most meaningful holiday tradition became going to the woods or to tree farms to get our tree. Every year found us on a horse- or tractor-pulled wagon riding out to fields of beautifully pruned Scotch pines or fir trees. And every year my insurance costs rose as I stood on chairs or step-ladders to lean precariously into the tree to decorate the top.
I remember the year our tradition began to go awry. The tree-gathering trip was as fun as always; but why, oh why did we not see that deep curve in the spine of our lovely Scotch pine? Somehow we managed to get it into the tree stand and keep it up through the holidays, but the trend was set.
By this time the kids were grown and we were trooping through the trees and playing hide-and-seek with kids and grandchildren. The next year our usual tree farm was “catching its breath” and closed for the year and we found another one online – the beginning of the end. We drove into the next county and piled out of the cars (by now we were transporting two trees) and into the fields. Nothing; there was nothing that appealed to us and I began to get an uneasy feeling that our tradition was leaving us. We separated and each family drove to lots to pick out trees.
That particular Christmas, the tree was so curvy (and at this point we were trying to watch for this!), it kept falling. We finally had to undecorate it and get another tree. The next year was pretty much a repeat and I was beginning to yearn for a tall, straight tree that I could count on standing.
The next year we had moved to South Carolina and were still in many boxes because we were having work done on the house. I bought a little live Norfolk Island pine and decorated it; but Christmas was not the same.
Over the spring and summer months of this past year, I have been struggling with the artificial tree decision. Today I ordered the tree and I’m excited! Because I believe we can see any circumstance through the glasses we choose to wear. And today, I’m wearing my “this will be a beautiful, tall, straight tree and you will never again have to struggle with lights” glasses. I could easily go the other direction with my mood but Steve and I have way too much to look forward to.
However, cautious optimism is the phrase of the day. Though I do have a nice, sturdy stepstool, I am getting older; and I ordered a 7 ½ foot tree. The way I see it, that was a compromise. We have cathedral ceilings and I could have gone for the 12 foot one.
Monday, November 8, 2010
Safe Travels, Deer
I hit a deer coming home from Bible study last Tuesday night. Or he hit me. I’m still not sure how it happened and, thankfully, the memory has pretty well faded away.
But let me tell you, that experience brought to the forefront yet one more time how precious friends are that you know you can count on. I was riding with Faye and, since I was pretty well hysterically crying and moaning, she spoke with the man who pulled up to see if I was all right. They determined that the deer was probably dead. I couldn’t bear to look. Faye quietly told me how to drive the rest of the way home, since I seemed to have forgotten where everything was on the car’s instrument panel.
As we pulled back onto the highway, I began to cry again, afraid that he was injured and would go off into the woods to suffer. I remembered that Tom is a hunter and went directly to his house. Again, since I was sobbing, Faye stepped in and went to the front door of a dark house to ask him if he would go and kill the deer if it was injured.
I dropped Faye off and somehow found my way home. Steve met me in the driveway and showed me where the front door of the house was. Later that night I got a call from Faye to let me know that they had not found the deer. I immediately assumed a conspiracy – everyone was hiding the truth from me to protect me. And that was fine. Somehow it got me through that first night.
The next morning I called Faye and Lynda and Tom to say thank you. I found out that Lynda and Tom on Tuesday night and then Faye the next morning had gone back and searched the ground, ditch and the woods for signs of the deer and/or blood. They found nothing and so I choose to believe that I simply stunned him and he got up and shook it off and trotted on home.
After making sure I was all right, Tom asked me what kind of shape the car was in. I told him the front left fender was dented in, but that was okay, because it now matched the front right fender where Steve had hit another deer almost a year ago. Tom made me aware that we have now bagged our limit. I started looking around and there are a lot of cars on the roads with bent doors and fenders. I believe we’re taking out more than the hunters!
All of which got me to thinking…and remembering. We used to watch “The West Wing”. One day a year, the president would open the White House to everyone who had any weird request or idea that they would like addressed. President “Jed” Bartlett would make his reluctant staff available to hear these bizarre demands.
Press Secretary C.J. Cregg was stuck in a room with a group who were concerned about the endangered wolves that had to migrate to Canada. They were certain that if the government would spend millions of dollars on a highway system for the wolves, they could save them. Asked how the wolves would know to use the highway, they said special signs could be made for them, much like the ones we have with the deer leaping.
That got me to thinking. I don’t really want to run for office. But I would be willing to raise some money – I don’t think it will take millions – to build some overpasses for these poor deer. Post some signs to guide them and let’s get them safely across our roads!
If you wish to contribute, please send a check (made out to me) at 11 North Lake Circle. Thank you for your support. Let get them safely home, shall we?
But let me tell you, that experience brought to the forefront yet one more time how precious friends are that you know you can count on. I was riding with Faye and, since I was pretty well hysterically crying and moaning, she spoke with the man who pulled up to see if I was all right. They determined that the deer was probably dead. I couldn’t bear to look. Faye quietly told me how to drive the rest of the way home, since I seemed to have forgotten where everything was on the car’s instrument panel.
As we pulled back onto the highway, I began to cry again, afraid that he was injured and would go off into the woods to suffer. I remembered that Tom is a hunter and went directly to his house. Again, since I was sobbing, Faye stepped in and went to the front door of a dark house to ask him if he would go and kill the deer if it was injured.
I dropped Faye off and somehow found my way home. Steve met me in the driveway and showed me where the front door of the house was. Later that night I got a call from Faye to let me know that they had not found the deer. I immediately assumed a conspiracy – everyone was hiding the truth from me to protect me. And that was fine. Somehow it got me through that first night.
The next morning I called Faye and Lynda and Tom to say thank you. I found out that Lynda and Tom on Tuesday night and then Faye the next morning had gone back and searched the ground, ditch and the woods for signs of the deer and/or blood. They found nothing and so I choose to believe that I simply stunned him and he got up and shook it off and trotted on home.
After making sure I was all right, Tom asked me what kind of shape the car was in. I told him the front left fender was dented in, but that was okay, because it now matched the front right fender where Steve had hit another deer almost a year ago. Tom made me aware that we have now bagged our limit. I started looking around and there are a lot of cars on the roads with bent doors and fenders. I believe we’re taking out more than the hunters!
All of which got me to thinking…and remembering. We used to watch “The West Wing”. One day a year, the president would open the White House to everyone who had any weird request or idea that they would like addressed. President “Jed” Bartlett would make his reluctant staff available to hear these bizarre demands.
Press Secretary C.J. Cregg was stuck in a room with a group who were concerned about the endangered wolves that had to migrate to Canada. They were certain that if the government would spend millions of dollars on a highway system for the wolves, they could save them. Asked how the wolves would know to use the highway, they said special signs could be made for them, much like the ones we have with the deer leaping.
That got me to thinking. I don’t really want to run for office. But I would be willing to raise some money – I don’t think it will take millions – to build some overpasses for these poor deer. Post some signs to guide them and let’s get them safely across our roads!
If you wish to contribute, please send a check (made out to me) at 11 North Lake Circle. Thank you for your support. Let get them safely home, shall we?
Saturday, November 6, 2010
The Mad Dash
I see ladybugs, fireflies and crickets as God’s toys of the insect world. He must have been smiling when He created them. Ladybugs have those pretty red polka-dotted wings. Lightning bugs have rear ends that light up! And cricket gentlemen pursue their lady friends by serenading them with their back wings rubbed together. I grew up believing that it was their back legs and that was a much funnier mental picture.
Those are the only “friendly bugs” that don’t intimidate me, the only ones I’d be willing to touch. So I didn’t panic on that first cold night of fall when I raised the garage door to take out the trash and so many crickets came hopping through. They must have felt the warmth coming from beneath the door.
And I had to think of that mad frenzy that must take them over. Winter is coming. A killing season for those left out in the cold. A short life span of only one year drives them to seek warmth and safety.
We’ve not been made aware of our own life spans or how long we have until Jesus returns. We do know He’s coming “in a flash, in the twinkling of an eye at the last trumpet.” (1 Corinthians 15:52a) But we tend to put things off, delay telling our neighbor how Jesus has changed our life, ignore that damaged relationship with a family member. We don’t have a timeline to worry about, so we choose “tomorrow”.
Just like the crickets that make that frantic effort at the last minute to get into the warmth, so we would dash around trying to make up for lost time if we knew how little of it we have left. Why not take this day to begin to prepare for your long eternal life in this fleeting one?
1 Peter 1:13, Philippians 1:6
Therefore, prepare your minds for action; be self-controlled; set your hope fully on the grace to be given you when Jesus Christ is revealed…being confident of this, that he who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus.
Those are the only “friendly bugs” that don’t intimidate me, the only ones I’d be willing to touch. So I didn’t panic on that first cold night of fall when I raised the garage door to take out the trash and so many crickets came hopping through. They must have felt the warmth coming from beneath the door.
And I had to think of that mad frenzy that must take them over. Winter is coming. A killing season for those left out in the cold. A short life span of only one year drives them to seek warmth and safety.
We’ve not been made aware of our own life spans or how long we have until Jesus returns. We do know He’s coming “in a flash, in the twinkling of an eye at the last trumpet.” (1 Corinthians 15:52a) But we tend to put things off, delay telling our neighbor how Jesus has changed our life, ignore that damaged relationship with a family member. We don’t have a timeline to worry about, so we choose “tomorrow”.
Just like the crickets that make that frantic effort at the last minute to get into the warmth, so we would dash around trying to make up for lost time if we knew how little of it we have left. Why not take this day to begin to prepare for your long eternal life in this fleeting one?
1 Peter 1:13, Philippians 1:6
Therefore, prepare your minds for action; be self-controlled; set your hope fully on the grace to be given you when Jesus Christ is revealed…being confident of this, that he who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus.
Thursday, November 4, 2010
My Grown-Up Christmas Wish
Last night I had the Christmas dream again.
What woman doesn’t have an ideal Christmas vision with the house decorated beautifully, dozens of different kinds of cookies baked, fudge and divinity in pretty crystal dishes everywhere, and loads of gifts wrapped with coordinating paper under a massive nostalgic, overly lit up, yet oh-so-tasteful Christmas tree. Well behaved, well-dressed smiling family waiting on the couch for the perfect photo for the card. Am I letting my analyst side take over again?
Truly when I was a young mom I did have a dream about once a month without fail. Always, in the dream it was a couple of days before Christmas or Christmas Eve. I was usually crying, having realized that I had let it slip up on me once again. I was distressed because the tree was never decorated and I didn’t have gifts for everyone. But the real heartache lay in the sense that I had somehow failed to enjoy it. The season was already almost over and I had somehow come up short. And I would have to wait another whole year. I would wake up with a heavy heart and the sense that I had once again missed the boat somehow, even if it was mid-April or July.
In reality as I got older, I got better at the game. I was more organized. It was still stressful, but I was getting it done. The kids seemed happy with Christmas and, though I never seemed to have time enough to do everything I needed/wanted to do and just “enjoy”, my efforts succeeded. And the dream, while still disturbing, occurred less and less frequently. But, more important, when I did dream it, I woke up less sick at heart. I was somehow achieving what I needed to.
I never stopped to think about why I was having it. It seemed obvious to me that I had somehow put way too much pressure on myself to achieve this holiday perfection that was impossible to accomplish. I just figured I was doing it better somehow. The dream disappeared about ten years ago and I wasn’t sorry to see it leave.
So when I woke up this morning, heavy-hearted more that the dream was back than from the content, I began to try to figure out why. There were all the obvious reasons. The weather was cool and gray. I had been listening to my usual November Christmas carols and getting daily updates from ABC Family’s 25 Days of Christmas on Facebook.
I tried to remember the essence. The decorations were a piece of it but they didn’t seem that important. The overriding concern was that it was late on Christmas Eve, I couldn’t do any shopping and I had nothing to give my family.
Is it possible that it can be that obvious? That I honestly don’t believe I have anything left to give my children and my grandchildren? I don’t for a minute think that is so. I wonder if it’s not about the fact that I’m feeling the need to pass along more meaningful gifts – lasting gifts. I offered them my best – my faith – from the time they were small. But is there some other something that I need to give?
Ironically, it’s November 4th. I still have more than enough time to prepare. My hope – my wish – is that I can figure out what it is that I’m feeling the need to give and, more importantly, that I will have the courage to give it.
Watch out kids. It may not be a Wii Christmas. Sorry Steve, the Golf Warehouse may take me off their catalog list. Can I somehow wrap up peace, joy, humility, love, gentleness – some gift that keeps on giving? Then maybe this dream will have spoken to me for the last time.
What woman doesn’t have an ideal Christmas vision with the house decorated beautifully, dozens of different kinds of cookies baked, fudge and divinity in pretty crystal dishes everywhere, and loads of gifts wrapped with coordinating paper under a massive nostalgic, overly lit up, yet oh-so-tasteful Christmas tree. Well behaved, well-dressed smiling family waiting on the couch for the perfect photo for the card. Am I letting my analyst side take over again?
Truly when I was a young mom I did have a dream about once a month without fail. Always, in the dream it was a couple of days before Christmas or Christmas Eve. I was usually crying, having realized that I had let it slip up on me once again. I was distressed because the tree was never decorated and I didn’t have gifts for everyone. But the real heartache lay in the sense that I had somehow failed to enjoy it. The season was already almost over and I had somehow come up short. And I would have to wait another whole year. I would wake up with a heavy heart and the sense that I had once again missed the boat somehow, even if it was mid-April or July.
In reality as I got older, I got better at the game. I was more organized. It was still stressful, but I was getting it done. The kids seemed happy with Christmas and, though I never seemed to have time enough to do everything I needed/wanted to do and just “enjoy”, my efforts succeeded. And the dream, while still disturbing, occurred less and less frequently. But, more important, when I did dream it, I woke up less sick at heart. I was somehow achieving what I needed to.
I never stopped to think about why I was having it. It seemed obvious to me that I had somehow put way too much pressure on myself to achieve this holiday perfection that was impossible to accomplish. I just figured I was doing it better somehow. The dream disappeared about ten years ago and I wasn’t sorry to see it leave.
So when I woke up this morning, heavy-hearted more that the dream was back than from the content, I began to try to figure out why. There were all the obvious reasons. The weather was cool and gray. I had been listening to my usual November Christmas carols and getting daily updates from ABC Family’s 25 Days of Christmas on Facebook.
I tried to remember the essence. The decorations were a piece of it but they didn’t seem that important. The overriding concern was that it was late on Christmas Eve, I couldn’t do any shopping and I had nothing to give my family.
Is it possible that it can be that obvious? That I honestly don’t believe I have anything left to give my children and my grandchildren? I don’t for a minute think that is so. I wonder if it’s not about the fact that I’m feeling the need to pass along more meaningful gifts – lasting gifts. I offered them my best – my faith – from the time they were small. But is there some other something that I need to give?
Ironically, it’s November 4th. I still have more than enough time to prepare. My hope – my wish – is that I can figure out what it is that I’m feeling the need to give and, more importantly, that I will have the courage to give it.
Watch out kids. It may not be a Wii Christmas. Sorry Steve, the Golf Warehouse may take me off their catalog list. Can I somehow wrap up peace, joy, humility, love, gentleness – some gift that keeps on giving? Then maybe this dream will have spoken to me for the last time.
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