Growing up, Christmas was a huge deal at our house. We started celebrating at Thanksgiving and didn’t stop till after the New Year.
But when I say Christmas was a huge deal, I’m not talking about gifts. My parents handled gift-giving so wisely, no matter how much or how little we had on any given year. They got us each just three gifts, both on years when my dad was in corporate upper management, and years when we could barely make ends meet. (Grandparents usually gave us one gift each.) One of those gifts was always a book. We were never encouraged to ask for what we wanted, but rather to be happy with whatever we got, knowing it was chosen with a great deal of thoughtfulness and love.
Christmas remembrances are among my sweetest. My parents taught me that Christmas is about more than how much there is under the tree. We focused on the birth of Christ, of course. And we just made memories.
This week I told my kids a story about one Christmas that could have been less joyful than others. I was a teenager. We had just come through a very devastating situation, spiritually, emotionally, relationally, and we had a lot of healing to do. My parents bought a small farm in
It was a little yellow place, pier and beam. We could see daylight between the floorboards and dirt sifted up through the cracks. The tiny living room had a crooked wallpaper border, and the dining room was covered in a jarring coca-cola pattern, red, black, and white. The boys had to pass through the girls’ room to get to theirs, which was essentially a big closet. That was an exceptionally cold winter, and the house had no insulation. There were a couple of broken windows. We woke up many mornings to icicles hanging on the inside of the window sills. The only heat was provided by a couple of antique porcelain space heaters that would burn you or melt your clothes if you stood too close. The septic system was a mess, and we had to take drastic measures not to overload it. Among other precautions, several of us usually had to share bath water (there was no shower in the only bathroom) to keep the whole thing from backing up into the house.
We thought for sure we’d be out by Christmas and things would be better, but December rolled around and Daddy still hadn’t been able to find work, in spite of his best efforts. (On one hand, he was free to work on the new house when he wasn’t job hunting, but on the other I know this was a really difficult time for him because he has always been such a conscientious, hard-working provider.) The remodel was taking longer than anticipated, as so often happens. We realized that we’d still be in the little yellow house for the holiday.
Looking back, our spirits should have been dampened, but they weren’t. I have to applaud my parents for never allowing self-pity or discouragement to take over and ruin that time. (This applied to other times as well, probably why I have no patience with negativity and complaining.) I’m sure they were stressed and worried, but that didn’t affect the atmosphere at home. After all, we had enough to eat and wear and we were together. It wasn’t perfect, but we could make the best of it. We were thankful for what we did have.
Some of my best Christmas memories are of that Christmas…Singing carols with friends in the small, cold living room, making cookies, my sister and dad working puzzles in the coca-cola dining room. I have no idea what I got that year, although I’m sure it was no more than three gifts. Gifts didn’t matter though. Love made it a great Christmas.
Billy and I don’t have a set number of gifts we give our children, although it’s not extravagant. But quite honestly, regardless of what each Christmas is like, my prayer is that we instill in our kids a spirit of thankfulness and contentment that rises above stuff and draws their focus to what’s really important: love, family, and Christ. With a foundation on immaterial things, I know that no matter whether times are lean or plentiful, they’ll be able to have joy in the midst of it. Their hearts will be focused on what truly matters.
“Mama, can we listen to some opera?”
That is the last thing I ever expected to hear from my 6-year-old while she was doing her school work. Of course, the last thing I ever expected my husband to buy was an opera CD, and opera was the last thing I expected to play over and over as I prepared Christmas Eve supper. We are pretty ordinary people, not really opera fans. I mean, my kids will sing the first line of “The Barber of Seville” over and over again till I think I’ll lose my mind, but they learned that from Alfalfa on Little Rascals. I enjoy classical music like Mozart, but I don’t listen with any real understanding, I just try to appreciate the sound. My kids enjoy it too. Billy doesn’t so much. None of us have ever liked opera.
Paul Potts changed that. I might be the only person on the internet who hadn’t heard of this unassuming Welsh cell phone salesman, the latest winner of
He’s already sold 2 million copies of his debut album. If you aren’t one of the 2 million who have discovered Paul Potts, I encourage you to get a copy. I bet you’ll enjoy it, even if you think you don’t like opera.
I dislike this time of being in between houses, belonging neither to one nor the other. Nerves wear thin about now, when the exchange is almost, but not quite, complete. I've done better this time than last time (just 8 months ago), perhaps because I've always known this place was temporary, perhaps because I've stayed better fortified with the Word, adequate breaks, and decent food. (I lost 10 pounds during our last move and got down to pre-baby sized jeans. I wanted to make absolutely sure that didn't happen this time. Just kidding! I'm pregnant, so it doesn't matter...)
Playing with big cats...
Well, we are on the mend. Sorry blogging has been so light. This is a tough bug to shake.
I don’t remember if I posted about our new house or not. We’ve sold our old one (in the old location) and we’re buying another! God keeps giving me big houses. I was honestly expecting and looking forward to downsizing, but since God seems to have had other plans, I’m rejoicing and looking forward to filling our new home with guests. Hospitality, what fun! We have had a lot of people over to our (rent) house lately and it’s such a joy. One night we had about 50 20-somethings. That was great.
Silas must be on a growth spurt too. He wakes up ravenously hungry in the mornings. He just begs me to fix him some breakfast. He’s always eaten well, but not obsessively. Lately he has been HUNGRY. He’s such a thoughtful little guy and he comes out with questions that blow my mind. He is thinking through the whole salvation issue, and while he is not there yet, he is close to getting a basic understanding. The other day I was having my quiet time and he asked me to read the Bible out loud. I was in Romans 7. As I was reading he kept interrupting with questions (between play) . "Did Lazarus make the law go away?" (He meant Moses.) When I said no, he said, "But Jesus did, right? Why did Moses have to fire [burn] animals? Why did Jesus die on the cross? Jesus was not sin. But we sin." I was amazed that he made the correlation between sacrifices and the law, especially since what I read did not specifically address sacrifice, and that he grasped the fact that someone came to set us free from the law. He also grasped in some fashion that there was relationship to sacrifice, the law, and sin, although I don’t think he quite understands just what yet.
Sarah’s favorite activity is eating. When she sees that it will soon be meal time, she goes to the table and waits as long as half an hour for her food to show up. I am trying to encourage and establish healthy habits, since she loves food so much. She can be quite obsessive in a lot of areas. She will carry around the same small toy or paper for weeks…To church, outside, to bed. She keeps everyone laughing with her funny little antics. Her latest sayings are “I’m happy!” and “That’s punny!” (funny) She really is a happy little girl. It takes a lot to get her bent out of shape for more than a moment. She has an imaginary friend named Bakah (like Baker, but with ah at the end). The other day she “called” Bakah on the phone. “Hey, Bakah? Are you at your preschool? OK. I LOVE YOU!!! Bye.”
Update: T-shirts, yard signs, and buttons now available too.
Good Books
Good books are friendly things to own.
If you are busy they will wait.
They will not call you on the phone
Or wake you if the hour is late.
They stand together row by row,
Upon the low shelf or the high.
But if you're lonesome this you know:
You have a friend or two nearby.
The fellowship of books is real.
They're never noisy when you're still.
They won't disturb you at your meal.
They'll comfort you when you are ill.
The lonesome hours they'll always share.
When slighted they will not complain.
And though for them you've ceased to care
Your constant friends they'll still remain.
Good books your faults will never see
Or tell about them round the town.
If you would have their company
You merely have to take them down.
They'll help you pass the time away,
They'll counsel give if that you need.
He has true friends for night and day
Who has a few good books to read.
When Billy and I began our long-distance courtship in March of 1999, it was with the express goal of finding out if God wanted us to marry or not. Neither one of us was interested in a casual relationship. To this day I’m not a fan of undefined relationships—It was always good to know where we stood and enabled us to be deep and honest with each other from the beginning.
We were an unlikely couple, coming from diametrically opposite backgrounds and 10 years apart in age, but the encouragement of godly friends and family gave us the courage to step out and begin our journey together.
If one word characterized our relationship, it would be questions. We asked each other hundreds, if not thousands, of questions as our friendship progressed. We wanted to leave no stone unturned. Unbeknown to the other, each of us had a list of “non-negotiables,” issues that would have caused us to break the courtship off immediately if we discovered that we weren’t in agreement. We believed strongly that we should be united in our most important beliefs about God, family, and life.
By October we had reached an impasse. There were no more questions to ask without moving to a more intimate level than we were comfortable with, as a couple not yet engaged. (Except, of course, the things we didn’t know to ask, the things we later actually had conflict about, like the right way to make a peanut butter sandwich!) Yet we knew the time wasn’t right for engagement either. We felt very frustrated. We sort of limped along in a melancholy state for a couple more months, when everything finally began to fall into place. We entered a 2-week period of intensively seeking God to make sure we heard clearly regarding His will. This is the short version, but let’s just say the God made it abundantly clear to both of us (independently of the other) that He wanted us to marry. How that would play out, though, I was not sure.
The day before he was scheduled to move 6 hours away (as opposed to the current 3), Billy came to visit my family. When he asked me if I wanted to go out to eat after church that night, I was immediately suspicious since we’d never been out without a chaperone before. (Yeah, we are old-fashioned.) On the way I kept asking, “What is going on?!” He said, “Well, I’m about to move a long way off. Don’t you think it would be nice to go out one time before I leave?”
There was one problem no one had thought of. Nothing is open late on Sunday evening in a small town. We drove all over the place looking for a decent open restaurant, and when it became clear that we weren’t going to find anything, we had to settle for Jack in the Box! Somehow proposing in Jack in the Box just didn’t seem quite right, so we drove back to the house and talked for a very long time parked in the driveway. Finally Billy proposed, and I (obviously) said yes!
He moved the next day and we only saw each other once after that, before our wedding three months later. One year after we met, we were married, and we’ve lived happily ever after! I have to say that the absolute assurance that God gave us to each other has carried us through some tough times that might have otherwise rocked our marriage. Even when we encounter challenges, we never, ever wonder if we made a mistake, because we know that no matter what, God put us together. We were in love when we got engaged, but that is not why we married. We married because God wanted us to. And that makes our love that much sweeter.
Rocking my sweet one to sleep tonight reminded me of this wonderful old lullabye. Wynken, Blynken, and Nod one night
Sailed off in a wooden shoe---
Sailed on a river of crystal light,
Into a sea of dew.
"Where are you going, and what do you wish?"
The old moon asked the three.
"We have come to fish for the herring fish
That live in this beautiful sea;
Nets of silver and gold have we!"
Said Wynken,
Blynken,
And Nod.
The old moon laughed and sang a song,
As they rocked in the wooden shoe,
And the wind that sped them all night long
Ruffled the waves of dew.
The little stars were the herring fish
That lived in that beautiful sea---
"Now cast your nets wherever you wish---
Never afeard are we";
So cried the stars to the fishermen three:
Wynken,
Blynken,
And Nod.
All night long their nets they threw
To the stars in the twinkling foam---
Then down from the skies came the wooden shoe,
Bringing the fishermen home;
'T was all so pretty a sail it seemed
As if it could not be,
And some folks thought 't was a dream they 'd dreamed
Of sailing that beautiful sea---
But I shall name you the fishermen three:
Wynken,
Blynken,
And Nod.
