The Christmas Coat

And He Himself gave some to be apostles, some prophets, some evangelists, and some pastors and teachers, for the equipping of the saints for the work of ministry, for the edifying of the body of Christ

—Ephesians 4:11-12

I spotted it when pulling my winter clothes from my cedar chest—the minuscule red coat trimmed in white.  Would this fit Layla? I wondered, as I examined the aged garment I wore when I was six months old.

I knew I had to try.

I placed the freshly-laundered cloak on the bed and then my squirmy six month-old granddaughter on top. With no more than a slight struggle, I maneuvered her chubby arms into the sleeves and crowned her with the rosy hood, its fuzzy white edging encircling her cherubic face like a halo. I tightened the hood strings and lifted her up for the final reveal.

The hand-me-down Christmas coat was a picture-perfect fit!

I love hand-me-downs—and don’t mind wearing them.  I remember, as a kid, sporting hand-me-downs from my older cousins and thinking I was “cool” just like them. And then there was my mother’s wedding dress. It too was a perfect fit.  Hand-me-downs saved me money, yes. But it was more than that.  Wearing them meant wearing a part of the giver.

When the Enemy Prowls: Tomatoes Take Two

Be alert and of sober mind. Your enemy the devil prowls around like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour. Resist him, standing firm in the faith, because you know that the family of believers throughout the world is undergoing the same kind of sufferings.—1 Peter 5:8-9

 

I fumbled for my house keys in the dark, as I stepped over my tomato plants, which were spilling onto the sidewalk. Why didn’t someone leave the light on? I thought, as I made my way onto the back deck. Suddenly, a flash of black and white caught my eye.  I turned to my side and faced a furry creature with its fluffy tail lifted in my direction.  My breath caught in my throat.  Oh, no! One wrong move and I’ll be doused with eau de skunk!  My heart beat harder than Ringo Starr, and my fingers shook like Elvis as I struggled to unlock the door to escape the perilous situation. The door flung open and I flew in, slamming it hard behind me. Whew, that was close!

But that wasn’t the end of our escapades with the skunk. The next evening my son-in-law Ricky experienced his own close call with the nighttime visitor on the deck. And the following night we saw him again. As our car pulled into the driveway, the headlights illuminated the deck, revealing our caller scavenging from the cat food dish.  Ricky blew the horn, while Emma and I protested, fearing the retaliation of our frightened guest. To our surprise, the scavenger scampered off the deck right down into the crawlspace opening. Now what?