My Great White Whale

It all started on Sunday. I went to pick Avari up from Sunday school and was handed a piece of paper saying that she was chosen to play a sheep in the Christmas program, which just so happens to be this coming Sunday. This missive went on to explain that they would provide the costumes, but I need to have her dressed in all white. Seems simple enough, right? Wrong, very, very, very wrong (and I really could have added several additional "verys" but I think I've made the point).

Prior to "hitting the bricks" I turned to the web to do a little reconnaissance hoping to thereby limit the amount of actual searching to take place. I figured a few quick keystrokes and a click or two of the mouse would turn up the items I needed. Instead I spent close to 2 hours searching websites. I turned up one or two pair of white sweat pants, but these retailers wanted $15 for the pants and $15 to have them shipped in time to arrive for the play on Sunday. Now, there is no way on earth I'm going to pay $30 for a pair of white sweat pants that will in all likelihood be worn once.

So, instead, I spent the entire morning yesterday driving all over town to find white clothes. Now, the shirt came easily enough, but no one had white pants, tights, leggings. I frequented all the usual suspects, Walmart, Target, Penney's, Kohl's. I ended up driving to Pasadena (about 30 minutes from Baytown) to The Children's Place. Fortunately for me, they had just put out some new stock, which just so happened to include some really adorable white leggings. Needless to say, 4 hours and one grande peppermint mocha twist later, I had Avari's clothes. The best part was these uber-cute clothes were far superior to the over-priced sweats and less expensive, to boot.

Now, why would you care about my hunt for the great white whale, I mean, pants? You probably don't, but I had a lot of time to think yesterday while I was traipsing from store to store (thanks to my amazing mother-in-law who watched Avari for me). I ran into all sorts of people. I smiled a lot. I held a few doors open for harried mothers and the like. I wished Merry Christmas (not Happy Holidays) to everyone with whom I spoke. It was just refreshing to be out amongst people that I didn't know and sense my Father's love for them.

I also considered how much trouble I was going to in order to locate this rare commodity which is the white pant in winter. I wondered how that extensive effort would pay off if spent on other areas of my life. Sometimes I tend to get tunnel-vision about certain things and everything else gets a little neglected. Maybe I'm the Lone Ranger on that front, but somehow I think that most likely isn't the case.

My final realization of the day came from just having a little alone time in the car with a good CD and a long stretch of Fairmont Parkway. What was this earth-shattering revelation? Well, OK, you got me. It wasn't earth-shattering; it was probably obvious enough. Sometimes I just do not listen. Papa is speaking to me, but I don't hear. Oh, I pick up bits and pieces of the conversation, but operating that way causes me to have to make guesses about His true designs. It's sort of like me trying to follow a conversation in Spanish. I can pick up a word or two here and there, but I tend to get lost somewhere around the 15 second mark because I'm trying to piece things together in my head. I know enough Spanish to probably get me into trouble.

OK, this is the grand finale. Are you ready? Are you sure? Here it is: yesterday, I was reminded that I don't spend enough time and energy loving God and loving others (insert gasp here). Amazing how it so often comes back to His two great commands in Matthew 22:36-40, isn't it?

Looking on the bright side, gas is cheap, so these lessons weren't as costly as they might have been at $3.50/gallon. And, as a bonus, Avari got a couple of inexpensive, but adorable, outfits to enjoy. Isn't Papa just amazing?

A Sigh of Relief

It has been (almost) 3 long months since Hurricane Ike hit Baytown. We, along with many of our friends and family, have been waiting for insurance settlements, contractors, and manna from heaven to recover to our previous state of being.

This weekend we took the first step toward having our house repaired. One of the many contractors we contacted came out to inspect, so we can get an estimate for our repairs. They are going to work up the estimate and submit it to Allstate, our insurance company. According to the contractor, Allstate has been one of the worst companies to deal with through this disaster.

The guys who came out were very friendly, and don't underestimate the value of friendliness when people have been waiting this long. After being strung along by insurance companies, the government, etc., a friendly contractor is a breath of long-awaited fresh air. The gentleman we talked to is a Jesus-lover from Alabama who is working for a local contractor here in Baytown. I know that we are all in different places in our journey with Christ, but it does make me feel a little more at ease to hear the guy responsible for repairing my home say, "We are all about taking care of people, and the Lord has rewarded us for that."

You know, it's really the small victories that make an immense difference sometimes. When things are bleak, and they have been bleak for us in more than one way recently, a little reassurance goes a long way. We at least feel like we are making headway, slow though it may be.

We are trusting that God will reward our patience (forced as it has been). We are believing that our house will be restored to its former state, and He will provide all we have need of - not only in this instance but in all.

All I want for Christmas is a roof that doesn't inspire references to Swiss cheese and spirituality (it is holey ;)!

Blessings!

Look, I'm Just Like You!

I was working feverishly in my kitchen yesterday morning. I was trying to prove to myself that I can save a little money by baking and decorating a Tinkerbell cake for Avari's birthday party next weekend. I was doing a practice run and was pretty much in the "what have I gotten myself into" frame of mind when Avari walked up behind me.

Now, I was wearing my really loud, candy-cane-striped pajamas from last Christmas. Avari looked at me and said, "I want to look like you Mama. Can I wear my stripedy jammies?" I kind of brushed her off saying something like "in a minute, sweetie, Mommy's busy."

It wasn't long before I turned around to see her standing in her red and white striped pajama pants (She's really into changing her own clothes now.). Something looked just a little off though. I knelt down to inspect and asked, "Did you take off your other pants before you put on the new ones?" Of course, her answer was no. I was elbow deep in icing, so I told her to take off both pairs of pants and then put the striped ones back on.

Five minutes later my little angel showed up at my knee - no shirt, no pants. I washed my hands and helped Avari put on her "stripedy jammies." She looked up at me and said, "Mama, we match now. I'm just like you!" Of course, my heart melted and I hugged her tight.

After she went off to play, I heard that familiar still, small voice speak to my heart, "That is exactly what my children do." Immediately, I knew what Papa meant. Avari, in her hurry to be like me had failed to remove her current garment in order to don the new one.

Sometimes, we are in such a hurry to appear righteous that we "fake it until we make it." I've heard that phrase over and over again. I suppose there may be some merit in it, except that we are told in I Samuel 16:7 that God looks on the heart - man is the one concerned with the outward appearance. That means that Papa is more interested in what is going on under the surface than the "face" we are showing the world.

To me it feels a lot like trying to "pull one over" on God. Let's be real; we cannot hide, trick or otherwise bamboozle our omnipotent Father. Instead, we should attempt to remove the old garment of self to put on His righteousness. After all, the Bible tells us very clearly (and I like the KJV for this quote) that "all our righteousnesses are as filthy rags." (Isaiah 64:6) I'm not saying you have to get it all right the first time or that we will never sin again. I suppose what I am getting at is that we are supposed to be trading in the old for the new not trying to cover up the old with the new while still hanging on to the old for good measure. I don't know about you, but I am not a couch that needs a slipcover. I need to be stripped down and remade anew.

I'm really frustrated by those who would rather put on a false front than live a real, tangible life full of ups and downs, successes and failures, joys and sorrows. Seriously, if something is bothering me, I have no desire or ability to hide it - it is usually written plainly for all to see. Of course, the same goes for when I'm ecstatically happy. I'm pretty much an open book. If you want to know something, ask me. I'll be happy to answer you honestly.
Ephesians 4:20-24 says it better than I can:

²⁰But that is not the way you learned Christ!- ²¹assuming that you have heard about him and were taught in him, as the truth is in Jesus, ²²to put off your old self, which belongs to your former manner of life and is corrupt through deceitful desires, ²³and to be renewed in the spirit of your minds, ²⁴and to put on the new self, created after the likeness of God in true righteousness and holiness.

Last time I checked Jesus walked on water, but I don't. I wish we could all live with that realization. So, Jesus-lovers, let's do ourselves and everyone else a favor. We need to quit walking around pretending that we are perfect. If we want to look like Papa, we need to let Him strip us of the old so we can don the new. Don't wear your stripedy pants on top of the other ones - it gets bulky and uncomfortable!

Blessings!

Electric Blankets vs. Cabbage Patch Dolls

After I finished sharing the story of the $5 bill and the tin foil, I could not resist sharing another story about a disappointing Christmas gift. Don't worry, my friend, I think you will find this one rather amusing.

I couldn't swear to how old I was when this happened. It seems like I was 11 years old. I was probably too old to still be interested in dolls, but I was caught up in the Cabbage Patch Doll frenzy. Thus, we arrive at Christmas.

I had been asking for a Cabbage Patch doll for what seemed like forever. I'm certain it felt like forever to my parents. You know how it is - the repeated request for a specific toy, grating on your nerves until you are ready to drop the kid off at Grandma's until Valentine's day just to escape the repetition.

We were past believing in Santa Claus, so the gifts showed up under the tree fairly early in the season. We always put the tree up the day after Thanksgiving, so there was a lot of time to wonder about what was in those brightly wrapped packages. We weren't allowed to touch or move them, but that never slowed the speculation about the contents based on shape and size.

It just so happened that two packages approximately the size of a Cabbage Patch Doll box appeared under our tree a week or two before Christmas. My sister (who is a mere 22 months younger than I) joined me in the rampant conjecture regarding the contents of those suspiciously sized packages. By the time Christmas morning had arrived we had come to the conclusion that those boxes contained our brand new babies, adopted by us with real certificates and all. The only things we weren't sure of were the eye and hair color.

We bolted to the tree on Christmas morning. Mom and Dad kept pushing aside the two packages of interest. They were to be opened last, which only cemented our earlier hypothesis. We tore through the other gifts while our anticipation ate at us like a cancer. Finally, the moment of truth had arrived. One package was placed in front of my sister and the other in front of me. We tore into them like we were parched in a desert and those carefully wrapped gifts contained the water that would keep us alive.

My first clue that something was amiss was the fact that the gift was not hard like a box - it was soft and squishy. I continued to tear the paper, ignoring my misgivings. After completely unwrapping my long-awaited gift, I found not the doll I had dreamed of for weeks. Instead, there was an electric blanket. Yes, you read that right. The gift my parents were so proud of as to save it for last was an electric heating blanket.

Now, let me give you a little background after the fact. We lived in a trailer, which held heat like a bucket full of holes holds water. Our room was all windows on one side. We were constantly piling more covers on our beds to stay warm (even in Southeast Texas, which is not known for its cold temperatures). That is to say, we needed those blankets.

I was extremely disappointed (to put it mildly) when I opened that blanket. I thought it had to be the cruelest joke ever played on a kid. I think I made a good faith effort to hide my disappointment, but I'm sure I did a poor job of it. I feel ashamed now for my reaction. We did get our dolls, but it happened 6 or 8 months later on our birthdays.

OK, now that you've had a good laugh at my expense - or the expense of my 11 year-old self - I'll explain the reason for my posting this. Yes, there is a reason.

I learned a lesson from that morning. As the temperatures dropped that January and February, I realized that I really needed that electric blanket. While I would have enjoyed cuddling that doll, she certainly wouldn't have kept me warm in 20 or 30 degree weather. Sometimes, we receive gifts that we need rather than what we want.

It's really that way with our Father too. So often I think I know what I need and want. Then I open up what He has prepared only to find exactly the opposite. At the time, I often struggle to reconcile the two. However, hindsight is 20/20. Usually, I discover not too far in the future that He had given me the exact tools that I needed to deal with a situation that I never could have anticipated.

So, this Christmas, when you open up those tube socks from Grandma for the 7th year in a row, remember, you may not think they are such a great gift until you open your drawer 2 months later to find that moths have eaten all of your other socks. Then Grandma's gift will be looking pretty good!

Blessings!

Five Bucks and a Piece of Tin Foil

I was thinking about memorable Christmas moments from my childhood. While perusing the dusty pages of my memory I ran across a couple that were a bit uncomfortable in execution but have served me well in my life. I thought I would take a little time to reminisce and share one of them with you. Maybe it will serve a second purpose in your life.

I must have been about 7 or 8 years old when the first of my anecdotes took place. I attended a private Christian school at our church at the time. The day came for our class Christmas party, and I was so excited. We were having a small gift exchange, and like all children, I welcomed any and all presents.

The time came for the exchange, and I eagerly awaited the receipt of my new treasure. About the time the gifts were being passed out, my teacher (under whose tutelage I had labored for 3 consecutive years) pulled me aside and handed me what looked like a piece of crumpled tin foil. My young mind could not comprehend completely the words that were being whispered to me aside from all the hustle and excitement of the tearing of wrapping paper and discovery of new toys.

The revelation consisted of these facts: the foil I held in my hands contained a gift brought by a girl in my class (girls exchanged gifts with other girls and the boys traded gifts with other boys), this gift was not a toy as all the other children were receiving, this little piece of foil contained a $5 bill. My teacher, who I admired greatly, said she was giving this to me because she knew I was mature enough to handle not receiving a toy.

Truth be told, I was extremely disappointed. I sat for the rest of the party watching all of the other children enjoying their new action figures, dolls and games. All the while, I was holding that tin foil with the $5 bill wishing I was holding a toy. I think my teacher gave me much more credit than was due. However, my parents had drilled into me the appropriate reaction to receiving a gift that was less than thrilling. I smiled, said thank you and joined the other kids.

My reaction (the unseen one) was selfish. I failed to think about the little girl who had to bring the $5 bill wrapped in tin foil. As a 7 or 8 year old, I never considered how embarrassed she probably was by the whole thing. I mean, even at that age you know that a gift comes wrapped in paper, not foil.

Of course, today, I would love to receive a $5 bill wrapped in any material you like. Now, I would see that $5 as an endless array of possibilities in the scrapbooking section of Hobby Lobby. If I was being extravagant, I would see a $5 bill as a treat at Starbucks - a nice cinnamon dolce latte, perhaps. Back then, it represented disappointment.

When I arrived at home, my parents asked what I had received. I explained the whole story, and they shed some parental wisdom on the situation. They helped me to understand how important was my reaction to the circumstances. My mom and dad instructed me to consider the feelings of the giver. More importantly, they gave me scriptural teaching by referring me to Acts 20:34-35 where I learned that it is "more blessed to give than to receive."

Now, much older and I hope a little wiser, I am grateful for that experience. I learned some valuable lessons that day. That is not to say that I never had another opportunity to learn those things, but this is the one that taught me to walk in another person's shoes.

This is the experience I consider each year as we try to give something to someone less fortunate than ourselves. I think about how I would feel should I be unable to give my child a gift on Christmas. These are the lessons that I try to impart to my little girl, so she will have the grace and maturity required should she be placed in that same situation.

I suppose the lesson for me is that there is a lot of learning that takes place in our children's lives at this time of year. Let's make sure that they are learning the right lessons.

Is Christmas Really Just For Kids?

I've heard it said for years by various individuals, "Christmas is really for the kids." Now, I'd like to take particular exception to that statement; however, I find it difficult to do so. I think for the most part I'm just a big kid anyway. At Christmas, I let my inner kid run and frolic with the best of them. I have stuffed animals all over my living room. I eat off snowman plates. I watch Rudolph, Frosty, and A Charlie Brown Christmas. As far as I'm concerned, it really is "the most wonderful time of the year."

Still, I want to know - Is Christmas Really Just for Kids? I'll give you my opinion on that matter. I know, you're shocked, right? You thought I'd just ask the question and leave you to "talk amongst yourselves." Come on, you know me better than that!

I think it all boils down to how you define "kids." If by making that statement you are insinuating that Christmas is a celebration entirely devoted to pleasing the younger demographic represented by those aged 18 and younger, I would heartily protest. Of course, we tend to cater to our children - buying them gifts, letting them have treats not given liberally at other times, taking them to look at beautiful Christmas displays and watching them in Christmas programs at school and church.

However, I would hope that in all this we are teaching them about the type of kid who really celebrates Christmas. You do know the kind of kid to which I'm referring, don't you? Please tell me you do. Well, I will let you in on the secret just in case you aren't aware. I'm talking about adopted children. The kids who have been adopted into Papa's family - us.

We are His sons and daughters, and if anyone celebrates this holiday, it should be us. We should revel in the gift that is Christ's birth. No greater gift has ever been given. I mean, John 3:16 really says it best - He loved us so much . . .

So, I suppose if you define "kids" as those who are adopted into the family of God, then the statement "Christmas is for kids" is a true one. I guess it is semantics, but I thought a little clarification couldn't hurt. In any case, remember as you celebrate Christmas that you are the beneficiary of the greatest gifts imaginable. Revel in His love and grace. After all, these gifts are free and eternally replenished. And best of all, they don't require batteries!

Blessings!

Christmas Music

I have mentioned it before, but I thought I would preface this post by reiterating that I am a guitarist. I in no way claim to be an expert. I fall short in many ways, but I do enjoy playing. I love having the ability to have a one on one worship time with just Papa, my guitar and me.

That being said, music is a particular passion of mine. I am certain that I am not alone in being able to mark milestones in my life with certain songs. There are songs that have been my anchors in times of trial. There are tunes that have been celebratory anthems for the most joyous times in my life. Hearing some songs takes me back to exactly where I was when I heard them for the first time. It is amazing how much music is a part of our lives, mine especially.

I spent the morning putting the final touches on the Christmas decorations in my home. I made a cup of hot tea, put some Christmas music on to play and started hanging garland. Maybe it was because I was alone in the house. Perhaps I was just in a reflective mood because of the cooler weather. Whatever it was, Papa took those few minutes and really reminded me of the true importance of Christmas.

I like the creativity of some more modern interpretations of traditional Christmas carols. But, for me, nothing beats the classics. I love to hear Bing Crosby, Nat King Cole, Burl Ives, etc. singing Christmas carols. This morning as I listened to Nat sing "O Holy Night" and "O Come All Ye Faithful" I pondered the tremendous importance of Christmas. I was reminded all over again of the depth of my Father's love.

I would posit that all too often we sing the words to Christmas music without even considering their meaning. They are so familiar that we let them roll over us without penetrating our hears. I would like to recommend that you take a few minutes as you decorate your tree, wrap gifts or just have a cup of coffee and listen to a few Christmas carols. As you listen, perhaps you may let your mind wonder in George Bailey fashion (It's a Wonderful Life) about what life would look like in your little corner of the world had Papa not given us the gift of salvation in His son, Jesus.

It really makes you appreciate "The First Noel" that took place on that "Silent Night" when the first call of "O Come All Ye Faithful" was sent forth.