Sunday, December 16, 2018

The Posts of Christmas Past




Hello My Friend,

Sometimes I get messages asking where a certain Christmas story resides.  I can never remember so I have pulled some of the Christmas messages into one place so they can be found more easily.  There is probably a way to do it so that it sits neatly down the side of the page but frankly I can’t figure it out at the moment. 

I hope you are spending time with friends and focusing on faith instead of fussing. Holidays are not always easy, be kind to yourself and eat a cookie every now and then.

Enjoy,

Karen

The Perfect Fit:  Nothing says holidays like extra seating.  This was epic.


The Center Peace: New friends coming to dinner and I didn’t burn anything.


Sock it to me Jesus: One of my most beloved Christmas pieces: Have you met Sock Jesus?


Behold the Nativity: How I miss this bird.  Setting up the nativity was never so exciting.


The Cattle are Lowing: This was the year I met Fried Egg Jesus. 


Noel Never hurt Anyone: Who could forget the unChristmas tree?


Time Out: This was before I posted with pictures, which is sad because this was about the best donkey ever to grace a living nativity.


Geronimo!:  The cat who climbed trees.


A Camel in a Crisis: I miss Curly.


The Real Christmas Tree: I think of this every year at Christmas time.  It is my most viewed post, not certain why, but I wish I had taken a photo all those years ago.

The Real Christmas Tree




Sunday, December 9, 2018

An Unwelcome Visitor

Tree Critter


Though I can hardly believe it, the month of December has arrived and the world around me has turned to the task of Christmas.  More specifically, it has turned its attention to the task of “Happy Holidays” which seems to be far less offensive than the celebration of Christmas itself.  However, being distinctly behind the times, I celebrate Christmas and as such, a pine tree was brought into my living room this week.  I love Christmas trees; I don’t even need to decorate them.  Their presence brings me joy, less so our bird, who was rather confused by the entire ritual. 

It should be mentioned that when you bring an object that lives outside indoors, there is a good chance that you will bring in some countryside contamination and critters, which is why the vacuum is nearby and used frequently when setting up our tree.  As two family members set the tree in its stand, another is assigned to sucking up the trail of pine needles and dirt that follows.  The sudden invasion of a pine tree combined with the pine needles swirling in the vacuum creates a type of unintentional, unapproved HEPA filter potpourri I really enjoy. 

Christmas music is required for tree decorating as are tea and snacks.  After procuring them from the kitchen, I sat back and let the girls decorate, reminiscing about the days when I despaired the Christmas tree would ever get decorated without some form of crisis as three undeveloped little brains hung breakable ornaments while standing on stepladders. Mind you, there is a Christmas ornament on our tree that still causes some consternation as certain family members are unclear what a fat glittery pink pig complete with crown and wings has to do with Christmas.  It spends the entire season on the front of the tree dead center or hidden at the back of the tree in a place of obscurity, depending on who just walked through the living room.  I find it is the little traditions that make the season. 

Not long after the tree was decorated, I inspected the girls work.  Smiling, I walked to the tree to take a closer look, when something in my peripheral vision turned my head.  I couldn’t quite catch what I had seen until I thought an ornament was casting light.  A fraction of a second later I realized a ladybug had come in on the tree and was inspecting the newly decorated branches.  I think she was enjoying herself.  Did you know that ladybugs are named after the Virgin Mary? If you did, you aren’t surprised it was hanging out on my Christmas tree; it is after all “our lady’s bug.”  If like me you were unaware of this fact, you are doubtless impressed with this particular bugs’ love of symbolism. 

It should be mentioned that I hold no animosity toward lady bugs, however a ladybug is still a bug, (beetle actually but never mind) and belongs outdoors.  Not wanting the charming coccinellidae to meet with the vacuum or the less charming bird, I looked up where the creature should be deposited to spend the winter.  A quick wikki search and I was back to ladybug wrangling.  I had to find the silly thing again though, that took a while, they might have small legs but those aphid munchers can really move.  Finding her a suitable hibernation spot, I returned inside to contemplate the ways in which Christmas brings both the welcome and unwelcome visitors to our home.    

It’s the unwelcome things at Christmas time that I grapple with, struggle and strive to find peace; most predominantly the unwelcome visitor of suffering.  Like an infected taste bud, suffering can be a constant companion, painful and aggravated by almost anything. When well intentioned people would glibly quote Romans 8:28 at me during my crisis over the holidays, I would almost spit fire back at them.  Don’t tell me that things are going to work out, tell me how to trust God in a crisis”, I wanted to shriek.  Rather, “explain to me the steps by which I am to facilitate a trust in prayer, so that this torment of fear will stop.”  Don’t tell me in Christianese to have a happy holiday, speak to me about Jesus in the manger, forgotten, the smell of manure in the air.  Remind me how Christmas teaches me to worship with the angels in this broken backwards place.   

Which leads us back to the question: what are you celebrating this season my dear friend?  Are you celebrating a Happy Holiday or a Merry Christmas?  If you are celebrating a Happy Holiday then decorate away with every scarf wearing penguin and Santa you can find.   There isn’t enough glitter or tinsel to make my holidays happy if I can’t find a Savior or a message of redemption in my pain.  If I am celebrating Christmas, then I have hope.  Hope that when everything goes wrong, I have a God who is able to sustain me.  Hope that when I am empty and alone, someone still cares and loves me.  Hope that when sin ruins everything, God has a plan to give me life again.

Perhaps this suffering, this unwanted visitor, residing in your life at Christmas time, is not quite the intruder we imagine.  Much like my ladybug, though unwanted, it is part of the landscape of Christmas.  Though we might dread it, there is deep value in knowing our suffering is understood by one who loves us more than anything.  That we would understand we serve a God who entered our broken world so that after we have cried ourselves to sleep, we would awake up knowing there is a provision of mercy to help us get through the day.  That Jesus was born, Emmanuel: God with us, not to give us presents but to give us forgiveness, hope, his presence and his eternal life.     

xoxKaren


Sunday, December 2, 2018

Unmentionables

You do not want to see the mystery underpants.
Here is a nice butterfly instead.

My friend!

I’ve missed you. As December approached, I’ve been locked in a wrestling match with the Lord.  I’m not winning, but I’m spending a great deal of time in prayer, which is a close second.  I’m continually amazed how many times I can go to the Lord with my struggles: not once has he dropped an anvil on my head.  That would be surprising wouldn’t it? 
“Lord, could we go over your sovereignty once more because I’m still having some trouble with your plan.”
WHAM! (Anvil falls stage right, missing our heroine by a mere 4 inches.)
“Maybe later?”

Life around my home has provided many opportunities to be thankful, although many have proved stressful.  A few rough days resulted in my teen asking if I would drive her to classes as opposed to her taking the car.  I agreed to chauffeur, allowing her extra time to cram for a chemistry test, enjoying the moments we have to chat and catch up.  The drive in was soggy but uneventful.  A kiss on the cheek, the backpack hoisted over her shoulder and I watched her small frame walk away from me.  I pulled away smiling, it is nice when you like and love your children at the same time. 

I was expecting a call post chemistry test to hear how it went.  What I was not expecting was the amount of hysterical laughter that greeted me after my, “Hello?”
“Mum, the most embarrassing thing happened.  I have no idea how.”
“Well that is a statement. First how was the test?”
“The test was way better than I expected, I did fine, improved my grade.”
“Excellent.  What was embarrassing?”

At this point, I need to tell you things are going to get awkward.  I’m determined to conduct myself with the appropriate amount of home school decorum, but be warned, we are headed for the rails.

“Well, I went to sit down in class, and by my feet in the isle I saw a headband.  I looked about to see if someone dropped it but then, I realized it was (sister’s name) underpants so I scooped them up!  I wondered if they were in my sweater or something when I pulled it out of the dryer this morning.”  She collapsed into a fit of giggles.  “I couldn’t believe it!  They were just lying there.  I really hope no one saw.”

“Excuse me?  You found your sister’s skivvies on the floor of your chemistry class?”

The response was unintelligible, something between snorts and crying.  I attributed a certain amount of it to post-test stress disorder. “Yes,” she squeaked and starting laughing again. At this moment, I need to tell you that not all underwear owned by homeschooling females are granny camo briefs.  Anyone who does theatre will tell you that nothing gets rid of underwear lines like not having any underwear lines to contend with.  Enter the minimalist underpants. Her sister’s apparently, in the isle of the chemistry class, scooped up by my daughter.  The wheezing continued on the end of the line.

“Okay tiger.  Way to both humiliate and defend your sister’s honour.  Are you coming home?”

My daughter managed to get a grip and moved on from the underpants caper.  I had to laugh because my girl, in the throes of an awkward moment, hadn’t put the whole scene together yet.  That is to say, she was not calculating the fact that NO ONE in class even knew she had a sister and probably thought the skivvies in question were hers.  Somewhere, in that first year chemistry class, could be a person who thought my daughter was an exhibitionist home schooler with an underpants issue.

She would put two and two together at some point. 

I would help her. 

The whole scenario did replay itself in my head though and when it did, I was struck by a few things.  First was the manner in which my girl, when faced with an awkward scene, immediately set herself to covering up her sister’s potential embarrassment.  She knew her sister’s skivvies shouldn’t be in the middle of chemistry class and grabbed them, instead of leaving them in the isle.  I was touched by her actions; I would have looked at the ceiling and kept going.  Finding the presence of mind during embarrassment is a rare skill set.  

One of the most depressing things about watching societal decline is the sheer amount of material out there that is aimed at embarrassing other humans when they are in a vulnerable position.  Though it isn’t a straight exchange, the scripture that comes to my mind is Above all, love each other deeply, because love covers over a multitude of sins.1 Peter 4:8 In the times in which we live it isn’t always enough to forgive, we must have within our hearts the earnest affection that causes us to protect those who stumble as opposed to making their weakness an object of scorn or ridicule. 

Second thing I noted were the steps she went through when confronted with that awkward vulnerability.  First she reacted to cover the situation, second she created a narrative with the information she had at hand.  I thought both of those things were significant.  How often do we react in a tense situation and then are left trying to figure out what just happened?  Someone can be shockingly rude and we are left to construct a narrative as to why they would act out.  Lack of information leaves us guessing, the danger lies in the fact that our information can be entirely wrong.  Left to our constructed narrative, we operate out of judgment and misunderstanding.  It’s an uncomfortable place to be. 

As in so many of life’s awkward situations, they key to success lies within the attitude of the heart.  If compassion resides within, I am likely to cover and protect those who make mistakes without having to know all the details.  I will be slow to recount their missteps and will remember I cannot possibly account fully for the actions of others.  If compassion is not found in my soul when humiliation strikes, I will be first in line to heap scorn and fake outrage to the fires that voraciously consume lives almost every day.  Those fires bring devastation and can turn in an instant.  I am well advised to have nothing to do with them.

It was a full four hours later when my daughter came in the front door with her friend.  Immediately, she ran down to her sister and handed over her skivvies.
“Oh my gosh, did you hear what I did? They must have been in my sweater, I’m so sorry.  It was really embarrassing.”
“Yes, I did,” was her sister’s reply.  She peered into her sister’s hand.  “Umm…not sure how to tell you this…but those aren’t mine!”
“What?!”
“Look at the brand.  I don’t own any of those.  Whose underpants did you take?” 
“NO! Wait, what? MUM?”  My daughter flew upstairs with the contraband knickers in her hand.  Looking at me, she held them out, “Are these yours?”
“No, child of mine.  Those are not my underwear.”
The look of shock gave way to a delightful scream of disbelief.  “Oh no!  Whose are they then?”

The sound of hysterical laughter rang through the house, it took ages for it to die down.

Be careful out there.

xoxKaren

ps. Photo by ‪Dima Visozki‬‏ from Pexels