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.

Rise and Shine

Arise, shine, for your light has come, and the glory of the Lord has risen upon you.

Isaiah 60:1 (NRSV)

A flash of color on my stone path caught my eye. I stooped to get a closer view. A pansy, dressed in the color of kings, met me face to face. I gasped.

“How did you get here?” I asked, but all the while I knew.

In the fall, the wind picked up a seed from my plants on the deck and tossed it down below to the crack in the path. The seed found a bed in the dark earth and slept there all winter.

Spring came and switched on the light, like my mother used to do to wake me for school.

“Rise and shine!” she would say, as she threw back my cover. And I would long to switch off that light, cover my head and go back to sleep.

When we live in sin, we are like that. We want to stay in the dark and away from the light that exposes our sin. But when we admit our failing and allow God’s Light to penetrate our heart of stone (see Ezekiel 36:26), He will forgive our sin (see 1 John 1:9) and give us new life, like the sun gives to the pansy seed.

He will fill our heart with joy, and we will spring forth to bring joy to those along our path.

Lord, let the light of Your face shine on us (Psalm 4:6b).

Making Connections

Therefore we also, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us lay aside every weight, and the sin which so easily ensnares us, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us, looking unto Jesus, the author and finisher of our faith, who for the joy that was set before Him endured the cross, despising the shame, and has sat down at the right hand of the throne of God.

—Hebrews 12:1-2

Getting started is the hardest part. Even beginning this post is difficult. But I know I have to write it.

How did I get there? How had I unraveled years of hard work—years of living a healthy lifestyle, eating right and exercising?

Ever since high school I carried a few extra pounds, but it wasn’t till I turned 40 that I decided to do something to shed the extra weight. I signed up for Weight Watchers and within eight months dropped close to 50 pounds. I felt like a new person—or more like the real me had finally emerged, finally been set free. Free to wear shorts, free to be comfortable in a bathing suit—free to be comfortable in my own skin. I vowed never to go back to that old place.

But—and there’s always a “but” in every story, right? Within ten years 20 pounds found their way back to me. As I conversed with friends, I discovered I was not alone. They too struggled with their weight. They too needed to do something. We all needed help—and we needed the support of each other. Collectively, we started a First Place 4 Health group at church in April of 2010, and I took the helm. First Place 4 Health is a nationwide Christ-centered healthy living program that addresses the four-sided person—physical, spiritual, emotional, and mental.

Soon my friends and I were connecting our stories and strengthening our friendships. But the connections didn’t end there. In our meetings, we studied the Bible and made connections between our challenges and what Scripture had to say about overcoming them. We memorized verses that reminded us of God’s promises. And we grew, just as Jesus grew (see Luke 2:52)—in wisdom (mental) and in stature (physical) and in favor with God (spiritual) and man (emotional). We learned that when we keep God in “first place,” everything else in our lives falls into its proper place (see Matthew 6:33). Somewhere along the way, the weight began to fall off. And I realized I had found the formula for living a balanced life. And I thanked God for First Place 4 Health for helping me make the connection.

Stay in Lane

”... let us strip off and throw aside every encumbrance (unnecessary weight) and that sin which so readily (deftly and cleverly) clings to and entangles us, and let us run with patient endurance and steady and active persistence the appointed course of the race that is set before us”

—Hebrews 12:1

“Wait for green,” the traffic sign read.

As opposed to what? I wondered. Doesn't every licensed driver know to wait for green before venturing through the intersection?

“Beware of aggressive drivers,” the next sign also caught my attention.

What? They have to post a sign for this? Where I come from the signs read, “Beware of deer crossing.” But aggressive drivers? What state is this?

I was traveling through Pennsylvania and New Jersey when I spotted those signs, so I’m not sure which one gets the credit. But I do know which state gets the credit for the sign I read this week—it’s where I come from, my own beloved Maryland.

“Use caution. Stay in lane.”

Perhaps I’m missing something, because again as opposed to what? Doesn't every driver know that?

Dust Free, Debt Free

If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just and will forgive us our sins and purify us from all unrighteousness.—1 John 1:9

Really?  I just dusted two days ago!  And there it was—sunbeams penetrating the blinds bringing it to light—a trail of dust once again making its home on my picture table.

I abhor dusting—all that moving items to dust beneath and then dusting the items themselves.  I guess that’s why it’s always at the bottom of my list.  But I knew I couldn’t put it off any longer and set out to conquer the thick coating on my furniture. What a chore it was dusting all those picture frames.  And now to have the dust return in two short days makes my work seem in vain. 

Dig it up!

He reveals profound mysteries beyond man’s understanding. He knows all hidden things, for he is light, and darkness is no obstacle to him.—Daniel 2:22

I couldn’t say no.  A chance to get together with longtime friend Tracy and explore history—I’d definitely go—despite the scorching heat.

There we were standing on the grounds of an archaeological dig, wiping sweat from our brow, in the oppressive 90-degree temperature, listening to Tracy’s son Christopher deliver a crash course in Archaeology 101.  A student at St. Mary’s College, Christopher was involved in archaeological field work at Historic St. Mary's City, the site of the fourth permanent settlement in British North America.  He invited us to tour the site to see what his team had uncovered—literally.  I listened intently as he pointed out the varying layers of soil, notably marked by differences in color and texture, including the plow zone, which extends beneath the surface to the depth at which a plow would penetrate.  He explained how his team had dug a pit and stopped when they reached a black plastic barrier left behind by a previous team, indicating their stopping point. I was in awe as Christopher shared treasured findings, such as broken pottery, fence lines and outlines of colonial homes, including the brick foundation of the Brome-Howard house—surprisingly built on the foundation of the Calvert home.