Overflowing: Can you take Him at His word?

“Give, and you will receive gifts — the full measure, compacted, shaken together and overflowing, will be put right in your lap. For the measure with which you measure out will be used to measure back to you!”

—Luke 6:38

I was a single mom, trying to support three kids on my own. Their father was in prison, and I received no child support. I barely made ends meet. How could I afford Christmas gifts?

Early in my faith, I learned the practice of tithing. I studied the Scriptures on tithing and decided to take God at His Word.

“Bring the entire tithe into the storehouse so that there may be food in my temple. Test me in this matter,” says the Lord of Heaven’s Armies, “to see if I will not open for you the windows of heaven and pour out blessing for you until there is no room for it all” (Malachi 3:10).

Even when I couldn’t afford to give, I gave. My check to my church was the first one I wrote on payday. I saw God come through for me time and time again. I remember one incident when I needed $40.00 to pay a bill, but I didn’t have anything in my bank account. When I picked up my mail, there was a card from my mother-in-law with a note, “I felt I should send you this.” Tucked inside was a check for $40.00.

If God could do this, He could make a way for Christmas presents for my kids. Even though I didn’t have a nickel to buy anything, I had to trust Him.

Personalized Stocking: Do you have one?

“Because of the tender mercy of our God, by which the rising sun will come to us from heaven to shine on those living in darkness and in the shadow of death, to guide our feet into the path of peace.”

—Luke 1:78-79

Do you have a personalized Christmas stocking? I got mine more than 50 years ago. Mom took my siblings and me to a store to purchase ours. The personalization was done in store. I don’t know how it was done, but it appears to have been written by hand. While we waited for the personalization, Mom took us to see Santa in the same store. But I was too afraid to sit on his lap.

Lights Out: What do you do when a strand of lights goes out?

For Christ himself has brought peace to us. He united Jews and Gentiles into one people when, in his own body on the cross, he broke down the wall of hostility that separated us.

—Ephesians 2:14

As soon as I entered the traffic circle, my eyes were drawn to a band of darkness that wrapped around the Chaptico Christmas tree, separating two sections of light. I was dismayed, because the mid-section of darkness prevented it from being the beautiful tree I knew it could be. I wondered why someone hadn’t fixed it.

The Most Beautiful Christmas Tree Ever: Choosing the perfect tree

But some of these branches from Abraham’s tree—some of the people of Israel—have been broken off. And you Gentiles, who were branches from a wild olive tree, have been grafted in. So now you also receive the blessing God has promised Abraham and his children, sharing in the rich nourishment from the root of God’s special olive tree.

—Romans 11:17

One of my favorite childhood memories is going on a Christmas tree hunt with Daddy. I remember how my siblings and I donned our winter gear, then traversed the farm, field and fountain, moor and mountain (okay, hill), in search of the perfect tree. The problem was we were searching in the wild, where it is nearly impossible to find a perfectly shaped tree. Time and time again, we’d come across one that at first glance looked perfect and full, but when we got up close and inspected all angles we saw how sparse it truly was. After too many repeat episodes of disappointing trees, Daddy decided to chop down two trees and put them back to back, hiding what was sparse and revealing what was full.

Ornaments on the Tree: What do they remind you of?

Ornaments on the Tree: What do they remind you of?

“Like clay in the hand of the potter, so are you in my hand.”

—Jeremiah 18:6

When I pulled out the ornaments from the storage box, I smiled as if greeting old friends. I hung the sailing ship on a welcome branch and remembered how I had a part in the History Channel docudrama, Desperate Crossing: The Untold Story of the Mayflower. Next I lifted the theater ornament and found a home for it near the top of the tree. Near it I placed the masks of comedy and tragedy and the red hat lady snow woman. All three reminded me of my years of acting and directing the drama ministry at my church. Then I dangled a food utensil, which made me recall the years I led the First Place 4 Health ministry at my church. I uncovered a colonial caroler, bringing to mind the year I visited Williamsburg several times. I found the teacher ornament and remembered how in my 40s I had switched careers from accounting to teaching, how it required going back to college for education courses and studying hard to pass the teacher certification exam.

Then it struck me, This is not about you and all that you accomplished.

Happy Things: What are your words leading to?

With the tongue we praise our Lord and Father, and with it we curse human beings, who have been made in God’s likeness. Out of the same mouth come praise and cursing. My brothers and sisters, this should not be.

—James 3:9-10

To earn an income while staying at home with my two children, Timmy, then 4, and Rebekah, just an infant, I started a home-based franchise of Happy Things, a company that sold products of wood, pottery, and stained glass. As Christmas approached, the company promoted two stained glass items, a lighted white candle with holly leaves nestled at its base and an angel in a purple garment, holding a golden bell. Still new in the business, I regularly chatted with my director over the phone. One night, I was on the phone an unusually long time, reviewing the particulars of the Christmas line. When I got off, Timmy asked, “Mommy, why were you on the phone so long?”

“I was talking to Cheryl about Happy Things,” I said.

“You must have been talking about a lot of happy things.”

I erupted in laughter at his literal interpretation.

Clues that Point to Christ: Have you seen them?

After Jesus was born in Bethlehem in Judea, during the time of King Herod, Magi from the east came to Jerusalem and asked, “Where is the one who has been born king of the Jews? We saw his star when it rose and have come to worship him.”

—Matthew 2:1-2

My grandchildren enjoy scavenger hunts, especially those on the farm. On Thanksgiving I planned one for them, more difficult than others they had completed. It started with a clue that led them to another and so on until they reached their prize. Each clue was tricky, a riddle of sorts with a fill-in-the-blank challenge. Here’s one. And by the way, all of the clues rhyme—so a clue within a clue.

        It’s a shape nailed on the shed.

        You see these at night up high overhead.

        What are they?

I Am Peculiar: How are you using your unique qualities?

But ye are a chosen generation, a royal priesthood, an holy nation, a peculiar people; that ye should shew forth the praises of him who hath called you out of darkness into his marvellous light

—1 Peter 2:9 KJV

Today was Holiday Character Day at school. I dressed up as Rudolph and donned a glowing red nose. I was a peculiar sight indeed and people took notice of me.

I remember the story of Rudolph and how he was born with an undesirable red nose. His father tried to cover it with a fake one because he didn’t want it to limit Rudolph’s future opportunities.

Sometimes we may try to hide our own unique qualities. But God created us with gifts and talents for a reason. We are born to stand out, even more so as Christians.

If you know the story of Rudolph, you know that the red nose he tried to hide was the very thing that Santa needed on Christmas Eve. It was Rudolph’s red nose that led them through the foggy night.

Our unique qualities may seem peculiar to other people, our faith too. But that might be just what God uses to get their attention, for those who are lost need a light to lead them through the fog and onto Jesus.

Dear God, thank You for making me the way You did. I know You have a purpose for my talents and peculiar traits. May I never hide them, but be ever faithful in offering them for your service. You called me out of darkness; now may I shine my light to lead others out as well. Amen.

What if Life Came in Packages? Would You Unwrap Them All?

Consider it all joy, my brethren, when you encounter various trials, knowing that the testing of your faith produces endurance. And let endurance have its perfect result, so that you may be perfect and complete, lacking in nothing.

—James 1:2-4

I attended my granddaughter’s school Christmas program on Friday and was delighted by the present parade. Each student was dressed as a present, most of them wearing a cardboard box covered in gift wrap, as was Addison’s costume. Of course, I had to take her picture. Later I thought, What a cute Christmas card that would make if I could get all ten of my grandchildren to wear cardboard gift boxes! They are all certainly gifts to me. Anyone who is blessed with (grand)children would most likely agree, as children bring joy.

The Gift of Addison

What if all of life came to us in packages? The good and the bad. Our spouse, our job, our children, as well as cancer, unemployment, and car accidents. Would you shake the boxes to try to determine what’s inside before opening them? What if you unwrapped one child, would you take a chance and keep unwrapping in hopes of a second, even though you knew you might unwrap a trial instead?

Garment of Praise: Exchanging pain for joy

“To console those who mourn in Zion,

To give them beauty for ashes,

The oil of joy for mourning,

The garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness;

That they may be called trees of righteousness,

The planting of the Lord, that He may be glorified.”

—Isaiah 61:3

I was barely a teenager when I got the opportunity to join the church choir. The director, Miss Moreland, was my neighbor. She drove my two sisters and me to and from choir practice each week leading up to Christmas. We were preparing to sing for midnight mass. I had never even stayed up late enough to attend midnight mass, let alone sing for it. What a privilege!

Our practices were held in the choir loft. I remember climbing those creaky stairs for the first time. I found myself rising higher and higher until the wooden rafters surrounded me, as the loft was situated in the ridge of the roof, its sloping walls on either side. I remember finding a seat on a bench next to my school friend Rocky and being in awe as I peered over the rail at the rows of pews below, which seemed so small from my new vantage point.

Christmas Morning Butter Braid: A symbol of the season?

And she brought forth her firstborn Son, and wrapped Him in swaddling cloths, and laid Him in a manger, because there was no room for them in the inn.

—Luke 2:7

What is your favorite Christmas smell? Is it pine or peppermint? Gingerbread or vanilla? Or is it too hard to choose? As for me, I might select the heavenly scent of a freshly baked Butter Braid. Do you know what I’m talking about?

Butter Braid is the brand name for a Danish style hand-braided pastry filled with a variety of delectable fillings. Cream cheese is my family’s favorite. It’s our tradition to serve a Butter Braid for Christmas breakfast. Since it’s a yeasted product, sold frozen, I have to remember to take it out on Christmas Eve, place it in a pan and cover it. It will rise overnight. In the morning I am always amazed at how it has doubled in size. I place it in the oven to bake and enjoy the aroma as it wafts throughout the house. Before we partake, we insert a candle into the pastry, light it and sing “Happy Birthday” to Jesus.

We all have our own traditions of Christmas, our favorite smells, tastes, sights, and sounds. We celebrate in different ways and find meaning in the various symbols of the season.

The braided pastry is a type of symbol to me. It reminds me of overlapping swaddling cloths. In Jesus’ time, mothers used narrow strips of cloth to tightly wrap their babies. Most of us know from Scripture that Mary brought forth her firstborn Son (Jesus), and wrapped Him in swaddling cloths (Luke 2:7). But did you know that swaddling cloths were also used by the Levitical shepherds to wrap newborn sheep to keep them pure as they were to be used as sacrificial lambs? According to Hebrew law, these lambs had to be spotless and without blemish. When a mother ewe was about to give birth, the shepherd would take her to a designated cave, which was sterile and clean. The newborn lamb was immediately wrapped in swaddling cloths to protect it and keep it from blemish (South Platte Sentinel).

In Luke 2, we read the story of Jesus’ birth, which explains that Joseph and Mary had to travel to Bethlehem to register for a census. With so many people in town for the same reason, there was no room for them in the inn. Scripture does not tell us exactly where the couple stayed, but we can deduce that they stayed where animals were normally kept, as the Bible says, she laid Him in a manger, which is a feeding trough.

Shepherds were in the fields keeping watch over their flock when the angel of the Lord appeared to them and said, “Do not be afraid, for behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy which will be to all people. For there is born to you this day in the city of David a Savior, who is Christ the Lord. And this will be the sign to you: You will find a Babe wrapped in swaddling cloths, lying in a manger” (Luke 2:10-12).

The shepherds didn’t need to ask for specifics. They knew where to find a manger and went in haste to Bethlehem. There they found Mary and Joseph and the Babe lying in a manger (Luke 2:16-17), in a place reserved for the birth of sacrificial lambs.

Christmas is also an Easter story. Jesus was born to die to save us from our sins. This Christmas Eve as I cover the Butter Braid and lay it out to rise overnight, I will remember Jesus, our Sacrificial Lamb, who died, was covered and laid in a tomb and days later rose overnight.

As I savor my first bite of Butter Braid on Christmas morning, I will remember that Jesus is the Bread of Life, the bread that comes down from heaven and gives life to the world (John 6:25-59).

I pray that you too will find meaning in the symbols of Christmas. And may all your traditions point to the reason for the season.

And by the way, did you know that Bethlehem means “house of bread?”

Jesus, You are our Sacrificial Lamb, our Lord and Savior, and our Bread of Life. This Christmas I celebrate You. May I find You in all my traditions and savor Your presence with all my senses. Amen.

Let Your Light Shine: Don't let Satan blow it out

Let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works and glorify your Father in heaven.

—Matthew 5:16

Do you remember as a child singing that song, “This Little Light of Mine?” How about that verse, “Don’t let Satan blow it out?”

Well, I remember a time when he almost did. But it took a little child to reignite my flame.

The year 1995 was the most difficult year of my life, the year that domestic violence drove me to leave my husband for my own safety and the well-being of my children. After I left, the violence didn’t end but escalated till my husband was behind bars and I was beat-down, emotionally and mentally broken. I found a safe place to heal in returning home to my parents and relying on God to strengthen and provide for me. During this time I put my faith to the test in so many ways. Would God come through as promised in His word?

Come to the Table: What do you have to settle?

“Come now, let us settle the matter,” says the Lord. “Though your sins are like scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they are red as crimson, they shall be like wool.”

—Isaiah 1:18

“Oh, no! Look what you did!”

“I didn’t do it. You did it!”

I heard my tween-aged daughters bickering below in the kitchen.

“Hold on a minute,” I said to their grandmother, Dottie, who was on the other end of my phone conversation. “What’s going on?” I called down to the two.

“She knocked over the nail polish remover,” one admitted.

“Oh, no! I’ll need to call you back,” I told Dottie, as I rushed down the stairs to settle the matter.

Catching Zzz’s: What do you do when you can’t sleep? Count sheep?

Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things.

—Philippians 4:8

A kid on Christmas Eve can hardly sleep. But it wasn’t even close to Christmas and I couldn’t sleep.

“Mom!” I called out.

She came to my bedside. “What’s the matter?”

“I can’t sleep.”

“Try thinking of good things,” she suggested.

“Like what?”

“Like Christmas and decorating the tree.”

So I imagined myself hanging the colorful bulbs on the branches, counting them as I went. I doubt that I reached 10 before I drifted off to sleep. After that night, I continued to use the decorating imagery to catch some zzz’s throughout my childhood years.

Later when I became a mom and heard that same plea from my then 3 year-old Emma, I told her what my mother had suggested and how I had thought of decorating the tree.

The next morning I asked her if she had thought of good things.

A Thanksgiving Fire: When you walk through fire

When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you; when you walk through fire you shall not be burned, and the flame shall not consume you.

—Isaiah 43:2

I was home from college to celebrate Thanksgiving. After a full day with family and a full stomach to boot, it was time for bed. Before we climbed the stairs, Dad put a few more logs on the wood stove. My sister, Mary, heard him talking with Mom. They seemed concerned that the stove was hotter than usual. When Mary reached her bedroom, she felt heat radiating from the wall behind her headboard, which butted up to the interior chimney. She extended her hand and placed it on the wall. It was warm. Now she too was concerned. She set her alarm to go off in a few hours so she could check on it.

A Microwaved Solution: Do you have a need?

And my God shall supply all your need according to His riches in glory by Christ Jesus.

—Philippians 4:19

I chatted with my friend, Mary Ann, in the church parking lot after service. With Thanksgiving only a few days away, Mary Ann asked about my plans. I explained that my family was getting together at my home. I also told her that to alleviate some of the stress of cooking I had ordered a meal from Bob Evans.

“All I’ll have to do is heat it up! But guess what,” I continued, “Right after I placed my order, I went to heat some water for tea in my microwave, and the door broke! The microwave still works, but I can’t get it open. Now I don’t know what to do. I can’t afford to buy a new one. I guess I could use my stove top and the oven, but…”

Handprints of Love: Adding to the family

For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life.

—John 3:16

My family started a new Thanksgiving tradition last year. After dinner each of us used a Sharpie to write what we were thankful for on the tablecloth. My daughter-in-law Tara traced her hand to create a turkey, then others followed suit. This past Thanksgiving we used the same tablecloth but decided to paint our handprints instead. Adults applied paint to children’s hands, then pressed them firmly to the cloth. Afterwards, they quickly rushed them to the bathroom to wash off. Tara and Rebekah painted their spouses hands too.

I left the tablecloth to dry on a rarely used table. That same weekend I happened upon some 30 year-old Mother’s Day artwork that included the handprints of my son Tim. What are the odds of that?

I placed the artwork next to Tim’s handprint on the tablecloth and marveled at the picture of growth. My mind traveled back 33 years to the night of his birth and how I marveled at the miracle in my arms. I counted all his fingers and toes, memorized the slope of his nose, and was in awe over his curious blue eyes and few strands of blonde hair. I wondered if the colors would change or if he’d always be my blue-eyed, blonde-haired boy. What would he look like as a boy, a teen, a man? Who would he become?

The Mysterious Bodyguard: Under his umbrella

He will cover you with his feathers,

    and under his wings you will find refuge;

    his faithfulness will be your shield and rampart.

—Psalm 91:4

Another package from Amazon arrived. I ripped into the box and pulled out an umbrella. I didn’t order an umbrella. Where did this come from? Maybe somebody ordered it for me.

I searched the box for a gift message, but there was none. I looked for a packing slip. Nothing. Hmm…perhaps the giver wants to remain anonymous. Maybe it’s from my church secret sister. I’ll find out soon enough.

When I learned at the reveal that my secret sister had been my good friend Felicia, I asked her about the umbrella.

“Nope. It wasn’t from me,” she said.

I checked with family members. They hadn’t ordered it either. Perhaps it was delivered to me in error. Maybe I should return it. I called Amazon. I explained about the mysterious umbrella. I read off some numbers on the label. The Amazon worker checked their records.

The Christmas Pickle: Choosing carefully

She had a sister called Mary, who sat at the Lord’s feet listening to what he said. But Martha was distracted by all the preparations that had to be made.

—Luke 10:39-40a

Does your family celebrate the tradition of the Christmas pickle? Have you heard of it? The Christmas pickle is a glass pickle ornament, which is hidden in the boughs of the Christmas tree on Christmas Eve. The first child to find the pickle on Christmas morning gets a special treat or an extra gift or gets to open the first gift, you decide. I guess you could say that finding the ornament is lucky. However, in my family, the term Christmas pickle takes on a different meaning and it’s far from lucky.

On Christmas Eve 2016, my family gathered at my home for the evening meal. I knew that my grandchildren, Addison, then 4, and Eli, 2, both enjoyed dill pickles, so I was sure to pick some up from the grocery store. I placed them in a serving dish and set them on the table. As soon as we said grace, the two children bit into a pickle. Suddenly, Eli shuddered, and Addison gagged and took off for the bathroom.

“Wow, that must have been a sour pickle!” my mother remarked.

“Here, let me have your pickle, Eli,” Ricky offered and took a bite, “That is pungent!”

Then Tim tried it. Emma did too. Both concurred. “What kind of pickles did you buy, Mom?”

A Perfect Match: Does God care about minute details?

Bear one another's burdens, and so fulfill the law of Christ.

—Galatians 6:2

I placed my package for the gift exchange on the table and then handed a bag to my good friend, Donnicia. I smiled, as I whispered, “And this is your birthday gift.”

“Oh, thank you,” she said and then went on to recount her frustration with herself. Busy with getting everything organized and set up for the women’s ministries’ Christmas party, she had forgotten to put on a necklace. “I feel naked without it,” she said, raising a hand to her chest.

First the Singing, Then the Sudsing: Pressing on toward Christlikeness

If we confess our sins, He is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness.

—1 John 1:9

One of my favorite Christmas gifts from my students was a musical hand soap dispenser. When I pressed on the dispenser, Christmas music played, and then the soap came out. It made me think of Jesus. The night He was born, an angel appeared to the shepherds to make the announcement. Then suddenly a great company of the heavenly host appeared with the angel, praising God and saying, “Glory to God in the highest heaven, and on earth peace to those on whom his favor rests” (Luke 2:10-14).

I related the dispenser’s Christmas music to the angels singing. But what about the soap?

The Christmas Brooch: Parting with prized possessions

“It is more blessed to give than to receive.”

—Acts 20:35

I read the tag attached to the gift box, “Beverly! You were my secret sister? I had no idea!”

I proceeded to tear the wrapping paper from the box, then lifted the lid. What I saw made me gasp. The striking blue brooch I had once seen Beverly wear in church. As she had turned to greet me during the morning service, my eyes went straight to it. “Wow, what a beautiful pin!” I exclaimed, “The blue is absolutely stunning! I love it!”

I imagined it was a vintage piece from Beverly’s antiques store. Now, here it was in a gift box for me! I was overwhelmed. How could she part with what must have been one of her prized possessions?

Maybe there are several answers to that question.

Tell Me a Story: How sharing can make a difference

Tell it to your children, and let your children tell it to their children, and their children to the next generation.

—Joel 1:3

One of my least favorite chores is dusting, so I usually put it off until I absolutely must do it. I was at that point a few days before Thanksgiving. I knew I had to get my house in order before my daughter, Rebekah, and her family arrived. I removed objects from the top of my dresser, including the mother-daughter figurine that Rebekah had given me for Christmas a couple years back. As I wiped the statuette, I read the engraving on the back: tell me a story.

It seemed a message aimed directly at me. Lately I had been thinking about my writing and how I had been putting it off, like the dusting, not because I dislike it (I enjoy it!), but because other things had gotten in the way. I knew I couldn’t put it off any longer. This was a confirmation.

An idea struck. What if I challenged myself to write one story for each day of the Advent season? Could I do it? Could I allow the words to flow from my brain to my fingertips without stopping to “workshop” word choice and placement? I wanted to try. I wanted to honor the Savior with my words without getting hung up on perfectionism.

When Rebekah arrived, I told her my idea.

“Do you think you have enough stories?” she asked.

The Message of Hope, Wrapped Up in a Shawl

But as it is written, Eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither have entered into the heart of man, the things which God hath prepared for them that love him.

—1 Corinthians 2:9 KJV

“Wake up! It’s Christmas!” my sister, Mary, called to me from my bedroom door.

“It’s Christmas!” my siblings echoed, waiting in the hallway for all to gather.

I quickly arose and joined them. We took off down the stairs, feet flying, hearts pounding. Mary flipped the living room light switch, illuminating the long-awaited scene, gifts piled high on every chair and couch. Eyes wide open, we scanned the room, each of us quickly locating our own pile.

Mom and Dad joined us, and we took turns opening our gifts from them. When it was my turn, I tore off the gift wrap, removed the top from the box, and pulled out a hand-crocheted shawl. My mouth flew open.

“What! You made this, Mom?” I exclaimed, “How did you do that without me knowing?”

Without waiting for a response, I wrapped the shawl around my shoulders, imagining myself wearing the shawl to church and all the teen group dances.

Christmas Shoes: What do you do when your shoes no longer fit?

Wear shoes on your feet which are the Good News of peace.

—Ephesians 6:15 NLV

                    

Carefully, I removed a shiny blue bulb from a paper carton and placed it on a welcome branch. My reflection bounced back at me, and my breath caught in my throat. At age 10, I couldn’t quite put into words the reverence for the Christmas season, but I felt it in my heart—a warmth that radiated from the surrounding family members, all engaged in preparing for a Savior’s birth.

I was the oldest of my parents’ (then) five children, and true to birth order traits, I became an achiever and a perfectionist. To me, Christmas was the most perfect season and everything about Christmas had to be done with perfection. That included decorating the tree, under Mom’s careful supervision. Ornaments had to be perfectly placed, evenly spaced, and no same colors next to one another. The angel had to top the tree, and tinsel had to be draped perfectly over the ends of every extended bough. Once decorating was complete, all could exhale a simultaneous “Aaahhh.”

That’s what we were doing that afternoon on December 18, 1971. All of us—my siblings, my parents, my grandfather, and myself—were sitting around the living room admiring the Christmas tree. A beautiful moment to be frozen in time.

“A pretty tree,” Granddaddy remarked in a whisper, not for effect but because his vocal chords had been affected by a stroke.

Yes, it’s perfect, I thought. Then I glanced down at my shoes and noted that not all was perfect. My shoes were worn out, my toes scrunched inside. I couldn’t wear these on Christmas. I had to have new shoes, and I had to convince my parents to take me shopping.

Confident and Connected: How can you be confident you're going in the right direction?

But blessed is the one who trusts in the Lord,

    whose confidence is in him.

—Jeremiah 17:7

With less than two weeks of summer break remaining, I decided to take a trip to spend the weekend with my Pennsylvania family. Quickly, I packed my suitcase and everything I would need for a few days away. Mentally, I went down the list. Medicine, chargers, laptop, devotionals. At the last minute, I decided not to take my Jesus Calling book. I knew I could use my daughter’s copy instead.

As I drove, I had plenty of time to meditate and pray. I was grateful for the blessings of summer, the freedom to take a trip on a whim, the trips I had already taken during the summer, the time I had spent with each of my grandchildren, making special connections. I would be sad for it to end, but I knew that more blessings awaited with the start of the new school year. I reflected on the previous year and the word I had chosen to keep my focus. At the principal’s direction, I posted my word, encouragement, outside my classroom door. Every day when I walked into my room, I caught sight of the word. It reminded me of my goal. Intentionally, I encouraged my students and later received positive feedback. Encouragement had been a successful theme. Recently I had been thinking about a new word for the upcoming school year: connect.

Is that it, Lord? I prayed. Do You want me to focus on making more connections? Please make it clear to me.

Stand Here: Where wishes really do come true

Therefore put on the full armor of God, so that when the day of evil comes, you may be able to stand your ground, and after you have done everything, to stand.

—Ephesians 6:13

One after another, people stepped up on the sidewalk and paused for a moment right in front of me and my friend, Joyce, as we enjoyed our meal from the restaurant’s outdoor dining area. At first I thought it was strange. What are they doing? But when I saw the imprint in the concrete, I understood. “Stand here to make your next wish” it read, and an outline beckoned the feet, mine included.

I wondered what the others had wished for. They didn’t dare tell, because as the old saying goes, if you tell a wish, it won’t come true.

It was fun, standing and wishing in that same place where others had stood, silently offering their own wishes. But the old saying is just superstition. Of course, sharing your wish with another does not disqualify it from fruition. Sharing your wish may spur another on to encourage your pursuit. And that’s exactly what happened with Joyce.

Do It With All Your Might: What have you been called to do today?

Whatever your hand finds to do, do it with all your might

—Ecclesiastes 9:10a

My mother will turn 80 next week. This past Sunday we celebrated her birthday a little early. My siblings and I divvied up the responsibilities and threw her a surprise party. I was elected to give the tribute and pray over the meal. I felt anxious about what to say and how to say it. I wanted to do a good job, and I didn’t want to get emotional while speaking.

When contemplating what to say, I connected the word octopus to octogenarian. I thought of how my mother might have once wished she had eight arms when she was attending to the needs of a family of eight. She was so busy trying to juggle it all.

I also thought of a Bible verse that begins, “Whatever your hand finds to do, do it with all your might” (Ecclesiastes 9:10a).

I knew my mother had. So that began my tribute to her.

The Painter of Sunflowers: Making sense of motifs

Notice how the flowers grow. They do not toil or spin. But I tell you, not even Solomon in all his splendor was dressed like one of them.

—Luke 12:27 NABRE

I printed the car ride scavenger hunt form and brought it along to pick up my seven-year-old granddaughter, Addison, who was going to spend the day with me. Our first stop would be the movie theater to see Peter Rabbit. Although the theater is not far away, I knew Addison would enjoy the scavenger hunt, even for the short ride. It’s something we do regularly. True to form, Addison got started on the scavenger hunt right away and checked off most of the items by the time we arrived at the theater.

While Peter Rabbit received no more than three stars by most movie critics (and I can agree with some of their arguments), I found it to be delightful for the following reasons. I thought the mixed media of live action with animation was brilliant and beautiful. I was awed at the splendor of the English countryside, its cottages and abundant gardens, profuse in colorful vegetables and bright sunflowers, and of course the adorable bunnies featured throughout. Immediately I was caught up in the plot, recognizing the familiar tale by Beatrix Potter and enjoying the twist that involved a manipulative heir to the McGregor estate falling in love with his next door neighbor, Bea (short for Beatrix?), an artist who paints pictures of rabbits and nature and is a mother-like figure to Peter and his triplet sisters and cousin. Although not true in real life, Bea says that rabbits touch foreheads to apologize. This becomes a motif throughout the movie and lends itself to a heartwarming happy ending.

Photo credit: The New York Times

When we left the theater, I was still basking in the beauty of the movie’s scenery, even more so when the weather of the day seemed to complement it. Addison and I then decided to enjoy a fast-food picnic at the waterfront, followed by a walk skirting the shoreline. Still not ready to cap off the afternoon, we elected to take on the challenge of a sunflower maze at a nearby farm.

Message in a Bottle: Have you ever sent one?

You keep track of all my sorrows. You have collected all my tears in your bottle. You have recorded each one in your book.

—Psalm 56:8 NLT

Messages have been tossed into the sea since before the time of Christ, many to chart ocean currents but others as pleas for rescue or love. Recently, I read a fictitious seafaring message, a quote from the 1999 romance film, Message in a Bottle, based on Nicholas Sparks’ 1998 novel of the same name. It piqued my curiosity, so I did some research on the movie. I read the review by critic Robert Ebert, who describes the movie as “a film about a man and a woman who believe in great true love. The man believes it's behind him; the woman hopes it's ahead of her. One of their ideals in life is ‘to be somebody's true north.’” Ebert sums it up as a “tearjerker that strolls from crisis to crisis” (Ebert).

The Bride: What if happily ever after doesn’t happen?

Let us rejoice and be glad

and give him glory!

For the wedding of the Lamb has come,

and his bride has made herself ready.

—Revelation 19:7

As soon as I opened my eyes and realized the date, my mind traveled back 35 years to my wedding day, the start of what I dreamed would be a beautiful family life. I recalled a poem I wrote that described the reality:

One sunny morning on the fifth of May

A young maid hurries to prepare for her day

She borrows her mother’s gown, aged an off-white,

And the gown fits perfectly to the bride’s delight!

With a delicate veil, she covers her face.

Eyes full of hope shine through soft lace.

Her heart races as she slips into shoes that are new.

She completes the old adage with a garter of blue.

A bouquet of pink roses she holds in her hand

While her attendants of three around her stand.

She takes that step that will change her life

As she walks down the aisle to become his wife.

A decade later on a sunny May morn

The bride wears a gown that is tattered and worn.

Three little children are her attendants this day.

Her bouquet has faded, and the groom is away.

Tears fill her eyes as she recalls that day

When she borrowed a gown on the fifth of May.

After many years, the heartache is old, nothing is new,

He has forgotten again, and the bride is blue.

Shortly after the poem was penned, my marriage ended, as so many others do.

 

She borrows her mother's gown, aged an off-white,
And the gown fits perfectly to the bride's delight!