Arrgh, For Christmas Present

Santa brought Bella a stuffed blue dragon squeaky toy this Christmas.  And me?  The flu.  

It was just as well I had no company or plans for the day.  No one to disappoint, except for Bella who wanted to romp down the Greenway, but it was rainy and cold anyway.

My daughter Erin called, and yes, I cried a little on the phone because of my lot, but I quickly got over it.  She didn’t need to hear my nose running any more than it already was.

In all actuality, it was a great day.  Really.  Yes, I would have loved to have been surrounded by family, and busy cooking and bustling for them.  But since circumstances didn’t work out that way, at least I wasn’t healthy AND lonely.  When you’re sick, you take life one tissue at a time.

I made some real chicken broth with a French bouquet garni from a friend (those French—I have no idea what they did to those plain ol’ herbs, but they were better than any I’ve ever encountered on the McCormick aisle).  I brewed some peach apricot tea and nibbled on toast, feeling much like Nancy Drew when she was under the weather.  It was cozy, illness or not.

And then, because I didn’t really feel like DOING anything, I had a great excuse for watching television shows I never would have watched otherwise.  Truthfully, there’s only so much Christmas Story and Miracle on 34^th Street one can take, so I opted for a dose of reality TV.  THAT should be motivation for getting better, eh?

Please don’t tell anyone, but I watched the final two episodes of You’re Cut Off.  That’s right.  If you’ve missed out yourself, it’s a boot camp for spoiled American princesses.  You know, if I had ever run up $50k on my dad’s credit card, taken limos (rather than cabs, really?), or didn’t know how to make my bed/wash the dishes/boil water/wipe a counter top, well, Cut Off would have been the least of my worries.  But I digress.

In order to graduate from princess boot camp, you have to have completed eight weeks of regular household chores, and write a letter to your parents pleading to come home because you have grown so much.  Actually, I would have expected graduation to be writing a letter thanking your parents for letting you exploit them for so long, begging their forgiveness, and explaining how you wouldn’t have to be cut off any more because you were a responsible, independent adult woman now.  Nope.  Graduation solely rested on your parents laying down ground rules they should have set ages ago, and your acceptance of the new limitations.  These are the same parents who caved under years of manipulation, who, as far as I could see, should have been at a spoiling parents’ boot camp to learn how to say NO.  I figure for all the princesses, the status quo will return in no time—no pun intended.

So what does this have to do with a great Christmas?  Me, who was sniffling, aching, queasy and feverish?  I got down on my knees right there in the living room (I think Bella joined me, but then I’d had a cup of Theraflu and things were a little fuzzy), and thanked God for decent parents who taught me values, responsibility and appreciation.  My mind drifted to brave folks like Bonhoeffer, Mandela, King, and the Apostle Paul who all wrote from prison cells about the truth, and core values.  I thought about how shallow those girls’ lives were, even in the proud ‘graduation day’ of the producers—and how very unprepared they were going to be when life wasn’t handed to them on a silver platter anymore.

More than that, I thought about the Christ Child himself, born on a regular, ordinary night, surrounded in the warmth of a brave mother and father, animals, a caring guestroom keeper who shared the best he had, even if it was just a stable.  I thought about the faith of people who kept hope alive for at least 700 years that this Messiah would be born, even if the news didn’t hit Facebook within seconds of his arrival.  It would still be another 33 years before the first glimpse of the magnitude of how the world changed would peek through stormy clouds and torn Temple veils.  The story still unfolds today, and I was glad to be held in quiet solitude this special Christmas, to be reminded of the meaning in simplicity, without the clutter of stuff.

My voice is coming back a bit—still low and gravelly like a pirate’s, complete with the Arrrrghs that come from my throat with no effort whatsoever, in spite of the congestion.  But this pirate, marooned on her couch for a little longer, has a twinkle in her “aye” and a smile for joy in all circumstances.  God is good—has been, is and will be, now and forever.

Pass me some more of that peach apricot tea, and perhaps a scone.  At least that’s the view from my couch, this Christmas.

Grace and joy,

Julie

Words for an Advent Darkness

Words.

Are there words for this week?  Intense comes to mind in this cacophony of events, from Newtown to Washington to Beirut to East Africa to Mayan calendars.  Millions of words have been posted or flung, and I long for silence in which to hear God breathing.  I am sad for it all, and clinging to Advent hope, longing for the redemption of the Christ Child.

Let me share with you words from one of my favorite poets, Ann Weems.  Maybe, just maybe you need this reminder too.

The night is still dark

And a procession of Herods still terrorize the earth,

Killing the children to stay in power.

The world still knows its Herods,

But it also knows men and women

Who pack their dreams safely in their hearts

And set off toward Bethlehem,

Faithful against all odds,

Undeterred by fatigue or rejection,

To kneel to a child.

And the world still knows those persons

Wise enough

To follow a star,

Those who do not consider themselves too intelligent

Too powerful

Too wealthy

To kneel to a child.

And the world still knows those hearts so humble

That they’re ready

To hear the word of a song

And to leave what they have, to go

To kneel to a child.

The night is still dark,

But by the light of the star,

Even today

We can still see

To kneel to a child.

Shhhh.  Listen.  God breathes, even today, even tomorrow.

That’s the sound from my desk, today.

Grace and joy,

Julie

Will Less Be More For You?

The Christmas two years before Dietrich Bonhoeffer’s death in Nazi Germany, while in prison, he wrote these words to his fiancee :

I think we’re going to have an exceptionally good Christmas.  The very fact that every outward circumstance precludes our making provision for it will show whether we can be content with what is truly essential.  I used to be very fond of thinking up and buying presents, but now that we have nothing to give, the gift God gave us in the birth of Christ will seem all the more glorious; the emptier our hands, the better we understand what Luther meant by his dying words:  “We’re beggars; it’s true.”  The poorer our quarters, the more clearly we perceive that our hearts should be Christ’s home on earth. (letter to Maria von Wedemeyer, December 1, 1943)

So often, during Advent, my hands are so full of activities and stuff (you know what I mean), I have no room for the hope of the Christ child.  I am reminded once more to stop juggling and set the non-essentials aside.  There are far more non-essentials than I would think!

My heart was warmed to hear that one of our more affluent families have made the decision to take a holiday trip—and that will be their Christmas gift to one another, aside from the gifts they are intentionally giving to the less fortunate.  Instead of scarves, ties, sweaters and wii games, they will be creating memories by spending Time with one another, good time, quality time.  They are blessed to be able to do this.  And I rejoice for them, as much as I rejoice for those who cannot afford to take a holiday time—because as Bonhoeffer models, one can even be in prison (or anywhere in between) and still realize that love comes down at Christmas, in and through relationship.  Isn’t that the grand message of the season?  

God comes incarnationally—in the flesh, in human form, not in a generalized “Gee, isn’t Life wonderful,” but “I care enough about creation to be present, to offer hope in all circumstances, because love is the answer.”  God gets our attention through a baby born to poor parents in an off-the-map place, and if God can do that, all things are possible through the power of love.  Not the warm fuzzy feelings attached, but love as action, love as presence, love in doing, not thinking. 

I am reminded of taking kids to The Heifer Project headquarters in Arkansas.  Sometimes, part of the experience of the mission trip is to spend the night in the Global Village.  Each youth is randomly assigned to a group—the wealthy, the middle class, the poor, the homeless.  Each has resources appropriate to their ‘class’ for an outdoors, overnight survival exercise.  It never fails that the most generous, the most sharing groups are the poor, and then the middle class.  Perhaps it’s because less gets in the way of their sharing and caring.  I can see Bonhoeffer smiling, with Jesus’ arm around him even.

I’ve gone on longer than usual for this blog space, but I hope you’ll take time to read Jesus’ words in Luke 6:20-26.  They are poignant for incarnational living:

Then he looked up at his disciples and said:

Blessed are you who are poor,

For yours is the kingdom of God.

Blessed are you who are hungry now,

For you will be filled.

Blessed are you who weep now,

For you will laugh.

Blessed are you when people hate you, and when they exclude you, revile you, and defame you on account of the Son of Man.  Rejoice in that day and leap for joy, for surely your reward is great in heaven; for that is what their ancestors did to the prophets.

But woe to you who are rich,

For you have received your consolation.

Woe to you who are full now,

 For you will be hungry.

Woe to you who are laughing now,

For you will mourn and weep.

Woe to you when all speak well of you, for that is what their ancestors did to the false prophets.

You still have time to make the most of this incarnational, relational season.  I don’t know about you, but I’m going to empty my hands a bit more today.

At least that’s the view from my all too cluttered desk!

Grace and joy,

Julie

Giving This Christmas Away

Matthew West and Amy Grant have a song out (yes, it's taken me four years to "discover" it), called "Give This Christmas Away."  The song was written for VeggieTales' video, "The Story of St. Nicholas," which I would recommend for kids of ALL ages, but the song itself is worth the price and the time.  You can hear it on YouTube or any number of sites.

Giving Christmas away is important to me this year as our West End emphasis focuses on our membership vows. We are in the season of Presence.  The play on words is lovely this time of year, as the best present of all is that of our presence.  I've had my share of the "Me Club," as in "What's in it for me, or what am I getting and how do I ask for it?"  This year, as close as I will come will be to ask that my life be changed by what I give away.

There are lots of ways to do that.  If you have a family, I suggest you call a Family Night and discuss how you can give Christmas away.  If you don't, get together with a small group or your Sunday School class or study group, and brainstorm.  Or if you are creative on your own, make a list of things you can give away--items you may have in abundance, a gift of time, a phone call, an act of forgiveness, a kindness done in secret, writing a love letter.  There are hundreds of ways to give Christmas away, and how delightful to come up with the give-away list to check twice!  And as a matter of fact, it works best with the less money you have, or choose to spend.  Trust me.  It's an age-old fact.

Here are the lyrics to "Give This Christmas Away."  I hope you enjoy them, and give a wink and a nod to Matthew West and Amy Grant if you see them on the street this season!

What if I told you, you have the power
to give someone hope far beyond their wildest dreams.
What if I told you, it's right there in your hands, in your hands.
It's hard to imagine how something so small
Could make all the difference, tear down the tallest wall.
What if December looked different this year?

What if we all just give this Christmas away
If there's love in your heart, don't let it stay there.
Give this Christmas away
And your life will be changed by the give you receive
when you give this Christmas away.

It's feeding the hungry, serving the poor,
It's telling the orphan, You're not forgotten anymore.
It's doing what love does even when no one's watching you.
For God so loved the world that He gave us all His Son,
so we could be his hands, his feet, his love . . . his love.

What if we all just give this Christmas away
if there's love in your heart, don't let it stay there.
Give this Christmas away
and your life will be changed by the gift you receive
when we give this Christmas away. 

That's the view from my desk, at any rate.  Pardon me, I have a phone call to give.

Grace and joy,
Julie