I love Christmas... the whole season. The anticipation, the lights, the story, the wonder, time with family, festivities. Christmas has a way of making us feel cozy right at the darkest time of the year. The Light shines in the darkness and we huddle around it.
Of course, for Christians, the main focus of the holiday is the birth of the Baby, none other than the Savior of the world. What a wonder to think that the Lord of everything should stoop so low to be born among us... out of His love for us. Amazing.
But that's just the beginning. Sure, Jesus is the reason for the season. But in a larger sense, Easter is the reason for the season. Without the work of Easter, Christmas would be a fascinating oddity.
I sometimes wonder why Christmas has grown to be the biggest holiday among us instead of Easter. I guess it's a bit more difficult to market sin and suffering, death and resurrection. The cross that spanned the distance between heaven and earth. That all doesn't play so well to the culture at large.
So, fine then, let Christmas get all the hype and hoopla, decorations and movies, parties and baked goods by the dozens. But in the midst of the merriment, keep your eye on the horizon. There is a cross on a hillside, a stone rolled away, a temple veil torn in two. Easter changed everything. Easter is the reason for the season.
Wednesday, December 21, 2011
Wednesday, December 14, 2011
Considering the Poultry
I bought "cage free" eggs yesterday. I've never done that before, but there they were, and I started thinking that it was probably a lot nicer to be a chicken wandering around than cooped up in a cage all the time. So I gave the "cage free" farmer my money.
Maybe I'm just feeling more poultry-sensitive since I watched the documentary "My Life as a Turkey." Seriously. Here's the link so you can watch it for yourself if you are so inclined... http://www.pbs.org/wnet/nature/episodes/my-life-as-a-turkey/full-episode/7378/
It's really a fascinating look at how this man, Joe Hutto, raises a group of wild turkeys from eggs to adulthood, becoming "one of them," as it were. There's more to a turkey than meets the eye, and Hutto gained amazing insights into their lives and the natural world around them.
Thus, at least for now, we eat "cage free" eggs at our house.
Maybe I'm just feeling more poultry-sensitive since I watched the documentary "My Life as a Turkey." Seriously. Here's the link so you can watch it for yourself if you are so inclined... http://www.pbs.org/wnet/nature/episodes/my-life-as-a-turkey/full-episode/7378/
It's really a fascinating look at how this man, Joe Hutto, raises a group of wild turkeys from eggs to adulthood, becoming "one of them," as it were. There's more to a turkey than meets the eye, and Hutto gained amazing insights into their lives and the natural world around them.
Thus, at least for now, we eat "cage free" eggs at our house.
Tuesday, December 13, 2011
A Re-Birthday
December 13, many years ago. I was a senior in high school on a Young Life retreat to a camp in North Carolina called Windy Gap. It was a fun and crazy time, a mix of lots of laughs and heart-to-hearts.
It was a Saturday evening and there was a speaker (I have no idea who it was now). He talked about me (how did he know?). About how I couldn't be good enough in my own strength. How I fell short over and over even by my own standards, not to mention a holy God's. This imperfection, whether deliberate or accidental, he labeled "sin" and I was stuck with it.
And he talked about Jesus - as I'd heard many times before. About how He was a real man with real temptations who really loved me and died for me. About how only He could take care of my sin problem, and give me new life, eternal life. Believe and trust, he said. And I did.
It was a cold and windy winter night when I walked up the mountainside. I searched the stars and embraced the wind. And I placed my heart in His hands. I really prayed, for maybe the first time. And I was changed.
Maybe you couldn't tell it by looking at me... same hair, same clothes, same teenage insecurities. But a profound change had taken place within. A new peace and an unshakeable joy were sprouting up and taking root.
And I have never been the same.
It was a Saturday evening and there was a speaker (I have no idea who it was now). He talked about me (how did he know?). About how I couldn't be good enough in my own strength. How I fell short over and over even by my own standards, not to mention a holy God's. This imperfection, whether deliberate or accidental, he labeled "sin" and I was stuck with it.
And he talked about Jesus - as I'd heard many times before. About how He was a real man with real temptations who really loved me and died for me. About how only He could take care of my sin problem, and give me new life, eternal life. Believe and trust, he said. And I did.
It was a cold and windy winter night when I walked up the mountainside. I searched the stars and embraced the wind. And I placed my heart in His hands. I really prayed, for maybe the first time. And I was changed.
Maybe you couldn't tell it by looking at me... same hair, same clothes, same teenage insecurities. But a profound change had taken place within. A new peace and an unshakeable joy were sprouting up and taking root.
And I have never been the same.
Monday, December 12, 2011
Wonder in the Midst of Us
Presents, parties, treats, and general festivities... 'tis the season to run around like a crazy person trying to get it all done while clinging to the hope of reflecting on the meaning of Christmas... Standing in awe. Kneeling at the manger.
The trick of course, in the midst of all the busyness, is to find ways to let the peace of that first Holy Night settle me. Sometimes at night, after the kids have gone to bed, I like to sit at the foot of the Christmas tree with only its lights shining. As I gaze up, the colorful lights sparkle in my eyes and I find once more the childlike wonder of Christmas.
It is the wonder of a new star in the heavens. Of shepherds visited by angels. Of God in the flesh. It is the wonder of hope - of new life - for a dead world.
It is a story so improbable that many doubt. So pivotal that it divides history. So lavish in the lengths that Love would go to that it defies logic.
Take some time to remember. Stand in awe. And carry the wonder of Christmas in the midst of the season's busyness.
Friday, November 18, 2011
Night Time Musing
It's night and the house is miraculously silent save for the ticking of a clock and my own click-click-clicking on the computer. The stillness of night is a haven for thinking thoughts. I don't manage much stillness these days (or nights).
I used to relish such time and use it to set words in motion in poetry I fancied significant. There's nothing quite like pouring out your heart on paper, dressing up the truth in metaphor. My house is a fortress, a lone beacon of light, guarding me against the darkness of a naked world.
I used to relish such time and use it to set words in motion in poetry I fancied significant. There's nothing quite like pouring out your heart on paper, dressing up the truth in metaphor. My house is a fortress, a lone beacon of light, guarding me against the darkness of a naked world.
Thursday, November 17, 2011
Looking at a Heart
Anna was telling me today that her class at school was learning about the human body, and they got to see a real heart on a video. She said it was gross.
Will asked Anna, "Did you see any sins?"
"What?" she asked back, obviously confused.
"Did you see any sins?" he repeated.
At this point I realized what he meant. Growing up in a Christian home, he knows that everyone has sin in his/her "heart." So naturally he expected that if one actually looked at a heart, one would see sins there.
"You can't really see the sins there, Will," I explained.
"Oh," he replied, and carried on with what he was doing.
Will asked Anna, "Did you see any sins?"
"What?" she asked back, obviously confused.
"Did you see any sins?" he repeated.
At this point I realized what he meant. Growing up in a Christian home, he knows that everyone has sin in his/her "heart." So naturally he expected that if one actually looked at a heart, one would see sins there.
"You can't really see the sins there, Will," I explained.
"Oh," he replied, and carried on with what he was doing.
Monday, November 14, 2011
Voices in My Head
I need to clear my thoughts, but I just can't get these voices out of my head. No, don't worry, I'm not going crazy. It's just the kids playing in the other room... chattering, giggling, complaining, trying their best to navigate relationships and power struggles and still have a good time.
Big Sister is always in charge, which works great until she takes it too far, and Middle Child decides he's had enough and it's his turn. Little Guy pretty much goes along with the other two, just happy to be included.
Currently they're playing they are a family of mice, but they should be cats I think. I've heard it said that dealing with small children is like herding cats, and I can definitely see the merits of the analogy.
Imagine a pleasant woman entering a store with three little feline friends. "Come along!" she calls. She is on a mission to find a new dress for an upcoming weekend event.
Cat #1 slinks along beside the woman, periodically dashing between her feet and nearly causing her to fall. Cat #2 notices the tags hanging from the clothing on the racks, and begins a swatting game. Cat #3 simply lays down to lick his fur, perfectly oblivious to the demands and desires of the lovely woman.
If the woman can get all three cats moving in the same direction, it is highly likely that they are chasing each other and bound to topple over some racks of clothing. Such is the daily challenge of the mother of more than one child.
So, yes, my kids are in my head, and it is hard to get them out. They are often all-consuming, even when they are not present. They can challenge my wits, my patience, my creativity. They explore, test, question, whine, protest, giggle, and leap for joy. They are me. And that in itself is the greatest source of joy and frustration.
Big Sister is always in charge, which works great until she takes it too far, and Middle Child decides he's had enough and it's his turn. Little Guy pretty much goes along with the other two, just happy to be included.
Currently they're playing they are a family of mice, but they should be cats I think. I've heard it said that dealing with small children is like herding cats, and I can definitely see the merits of the analogy.
Imagine a pleasant woman entering a store with three little feline friends. "Come along!" she calls. She is on a mission to find a new dress for an upcoming weekend event.
Cat #1 slinks along beside the woman, periodically dashing between her feet and nearly causing her to fall. Cat #2 notices the tags hanging from the clothing on the racks, and begins a swatting game. Cat #3 simply lays down to lick his fur, perfectly oblivious to the demands and desires of the lovely woman.
If the woman can get all three cats moving in the same direction, it is highly likely that they are chasing each other and bound to topple over some racks of clothing. Such is the daily challenge of the mother of more than one child.
So, yes, my kids are in my head, and it is hard to get them out. They are often all-consuming, even when they are not present. They can challenge my wits, my patience, my creativity. They explore, test, question, whine, protest, giggle, and leap for joy. They are me. And that in itself is the greatest source of joy and frustration.
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