X Marks the Spot

My brother, who lives near my folks, where we are headed with our thin Southern blood on Wednesday, deep in the arctic north of upstate NY, wrote to say that 2 feet of frozen global warming got dumped in his yard along with 30 mph winds and frigid temperatures.

I bought Asherel wool sweaters and a new down coat, and then practiced walking in the 40 degree day with my long wool coat. I was a little chilled. And it will be at least 20 degrees colder. The wool coat could still be returned. It was a fantastic sale and I have no nice coats so it seemed the wise time to buy one.... but would it be warm enough for a land that was formed only a few short millenium ago by glaciers? I think not.

And then, returning the wool sweater that of course Asherel didn't like because she is a teenager and well....need I say more..... I saw a down coat 30% off and guaranteed to keep me warm up to 25 degrees below zero. In the era of melting polar ice caps, surely this would be warm enough. So I got it, but I have to return one coat. Down....or wool? Which will not only keep me warm in Boston but will be useful in NC? The wool coat is lovely, elegant, refined....really everything I am not but at my age, should be.  The down coat is toasty warm and more likely to reflect the lifestyle of someone with no taste but who loves the outdoors.  They cost exactly the same, both dirt cheap but great quality. And all this in the midst of our sermon on spending less and loving more at Christmas. I had gone on a whirlwind spree of cleaning out the coat closet and had given to charity many lovely gently used coats that we had outgrown or just never used. But I knew I had to make a choice.... down or wool?

While researching down or wool, inexplicably I came across a website "Christmas or Xmas?"
I have purposely avoided using the term Xmas, because I felt it was a smack in the face to Christ- a direct removal of His name from the holiday. However, I paused to read the article and realized I have been wrong all these years! Xmas is not a pejorative term, nor a mocking of our Lord. It is actually a term the early Christians used! Xristos is the word for Christ in Greek!  During the 16th century, Europeans began using the X alone as a shorthand for Christ, and thus Xmas is just Greek shorthand. No disrespect was ever intended! I have added hours of work to my Xmas cards writing out Christmas and I never needed to! Both are acceptable and both should warm our hearts with the hope and promise of our Savior's birth.....

And maybe both down and wool are needed!  I got both coats for the price of one.... could it be maybe having one nice coat and one warm play coat is not a sin?  And if I wore both coats simultaneously in Boston, I might even survive. (For you youngsters in the readership, note this is a classic example of rationalization- learn at the hands of a master......)  But as I was busy trying to justify keeping both coats, I was reminded of a book we are reading about John Wesley, the great Methodist preacher. A woman in the crowd listening to him asked him, "If I become a Christian, will I have to give up my cards?"
"Are you afraid you love your cards too much to give them up if you feel God is telling you to?" he asked her.
"Yes," she answered.
"Then don't give them up," he counseled, "Let your cards save your soul. They are your God."

It is so easy, whether we use Xmas or Christmas, down or wool, to love everything more than the One we should love most. We let things or activities warm our hearts but we will never remain warm. Only the flame of the Holy Spirit within us can really do that.

So, down or wool....or down AND wool...... What would Xristos say?

Isaiah 44:15-17

¹⁵ It is used as fuel for burning;
   some of it he takes and warms himself,
   he kindles a fire and bakes bread.
But he also fashions a god and worships it;
   he makes an idol and bows down to it.
¹⁶ Half of the wood he burns in the fire;
   over it he prepares his meal,
   he roasts his meat and eats his fill.
He also warms himself and says,
   “Ah! I am warm; I see the fire.”
¹⁷ From the rest he makes a god, his idol;
   he bows down to it and worships.
He prays to it and says,
   “Save me! You are my god!”

Let it snow!

I'm getting worried- snow showers predicted for both days I am flying in and out of Boston.
As if being frisked like a criminal to get on the plane wasn't harrowing enough, now I have to worry about arctic conditions.

But instead of worrying, I am going to rejoice. Who knows what wonderful catastrophes I might be given as fuel for my writing?
I just will bring along a few study manuals to help keep me in a calm, joyful frame of mind. The first one is a little thousand paged pamphlet titled, Black Ice, Snow, and Other Frozen Water Ways to Die.

Haha. That's just my old paranoid self talking. However, my new improved calmer make-over will indeed be bringing a large relaxation manual with several pithy sections to keep my blood pressure under control. For example:
Psalm 31:
When it snows, she has no fear for her household; for all of them are clothed in scarlet.

So right off the bat, I am buying me and Asherel some red sweaters. But my manual gives me more winter counsel:

Job 38:29
From whose womb comes the ice? Who gives birth to the frost from the heavens

This is a rhetorical question. The speaker and everyone in earshot know the answer. And so clothed in our scarlet sweaters, we don't need to fear the ice. God, who made the ice, knows that I can never remember not to slam on my brakes in a skid and if He wants me to visit my folks, He will melt the frozen path before me or put an angel in the driver seat.

Job 42: 1-7, 10-11
1 Then Job replied to the Lord:

2 "I know that you can do all things;
no purpose of yours can be thwarted.

3 You asked, 'Who is this that obscures my plans without knowledge?'
Surely I spoke of things I did not understand,
things too wonderful for me to know.

4 "You said, 'Listen now, and I will speak;
I will question you,
and you shall answer me.'

5 My ears had heard of you
but now my eyes have seen you.

6 Therefore I despise myself
and repent in dust and ashes."


10 After Job had prayed for his friends, the Lord restored his fortunes and gave him twice as much as he had before. 11 All his brothers and sisters and everyone who had known him before came and ate with him in his house. They comforted and consoled him over all the trouble the Lord had brought on him, and each one gave him a piece of silver

-nothing is impossible with God

Imposter

Santa had planted himself right next to the bar and was acting very un-Santa like. He wasn't hohohoing at all, and he was waving at people a little tipsily. His pillow belly was slowly shifting and he was making no attempts to prod it to its proper position.
"And what is Santa doing here at an adult Christmas party? " I asked Arvo, "There is something odd about Santa."

I watched Santa at various points of the night, when I wasn't cramming my face full of shrimp, wild mushroom ravioli, and pecan encrusted chicken. I love Christmas parties! And it had even begun to snow a little today. Not for long and it didn't stick, but it was definitely Christmas cold and Christmasy feeling.

Except for Santa. He hovered on the sidelines, rocking a little on his toes and then surreptitiously sneaking another drink from the open bar. When I wasn't watching Santa, I checked out what the other ladies were wearing. Some had full length gowns, so I probably didn't need to cut off my velvet dress to tea length, but now it is more adaptable for other activities like walking the dog.  One lady had a full sequined dress, but she really should have talked to my sister before accessorizing it. She wore a dowdy black cardigan with it. She would never have escaped the house if Holly had been around to advise her. I was center of the road as far as attire, and my feet were killing me, as they always do unless I am wearing sneakers.

The boss finally worked his way over to us and we all exchanged the usual pleasantries and then silence fell, and our eyes all hovered over to Santa, who was now tapping his fingers a little and waving his arms over his head in beat to the music.

"I don't know where Santa came from," admitted the boss,"We didn't hire him. He appears to just have wandered in and planted himself by the bar."

So Santa was an imposter! Maybe some enterprising homeless man who figured out the no one dares kick Santa out of holiday parties. A clever way to get food, drink, and warmth for little investment!

I have always considered Santa an imposter, an interloper, a spoiler who comes in and tries to grab the real magic of Christmas from the hearts and minds of our children. I am one of those Grinches who never taught my children about Santa, and never pretended Santa bought gifts. I felt the miracle of Christ born a human to show us the way back to a right relationship with our God was a far more wondrous idea than a fat man riding a sleigh filled with toys pulled by flying reindeer. I remember one day when Anders was very young when he was asking me about the meaning of Christmas. He had heard friends talking about Santa and was curious.... was Santa real? And just what was Santa supposedly responsible for anyway? So I told him all the beliefs about Santa, and he listened nodding. Sounded plausible to him.
Then I told him the real Christmas story, how Jesus was born in a manger, a baby who was born so that He would grow to challenge us to understand how our damaged souls longed for a right relationship with God. But no matter how hard we tried, we could never obey God, just like no matter how hard he tried, he could never perfectly obey me. (he nodded, here.) But all we had to do was trust that Jesus had come to let God punish Him instead of us, so that we could stand before God as though we were perfect, clean, and righteous. It was as though when Anders faced punishment which he rightfully deserved, his brother Matthias stepped in and said, "I know justice requires retribution.... so punish me instead."  All Anders had to do was acknowledge that Matthias had done this wondrous thing, and accept it, and say Thankyou.

The boy who had nodded that he could see how people could believe in flying reindeer, a sleigh that could fit toys for every child in the whole world, and a man that could slide down chimneys to deliver them, now looked at me with wonder as I finished telling him the REAL Christmas story.
"NAH!!!" he said, thinking I was joking.
And that's why we never celebrated Santa.

As we headed away from the loud music and the swaying Santa, and walked down the long festive corridor of the hotel... I noticed a little manger scene. It was in a dark corner, not fully assembled, small, and unnoticed. The glitzy celebration roared behind me, but I looked at the little manger scene and felt the awe I always feel that something so small, so insignificant, so helpless as a tiny baby could become the most pivotal event of my life and so many people leave it in a dusty, unnoticed corner.

Psalm 4: 2-3
 ² How long will you people turn my glory into shame?
   How long will you love delusions and seek false gods^[b]?^[c]
3 Know that the LORD has set apart his faithful servant for himself;
   the LORD hears when I call to him.

Full Circle

"I am tempted to wear the fish dress," I told my sisters, "Though do you think I will need something other than running shoes for a semi-formal event?" My memory stretched back to a year ago, when a shockingly similar scenario was snapping at my shoes. (Alliteration is a dangerous weapon in the hands of an amateur.)

Today is the one year anniversary of my quest to post a message from God every morning. I did it. I didn't miss a single day, though some posts were delayed til I could find internet zones. Through sleet, or snow, or hail, or rain, I delivered the packages of hope, encouragement, and laughter that God handed me all neatly tied up with a heavenly strand of love. I had started the blog because an editor wanted me to show I could develop a following, a readership, that would bode well for him taking a chance on a nobody's book. (That agent is still considering my book now that it has gone through a year of revisions. Publishing is not for the lazy.) But pretty soon, I was writing for a different reason. Emails started trickling in from readers who found that my struggles and bits of comfort that God threw my way were helping them in similar struggles. Who knew there was anyone out there as messed up as me?

A year ago, as I started to chronicle my life, I had a toenail ripped off my big toe, and had to find shoes for my husband's semi-formal Christmas party. I never found any that didn't cause excruciating pain, and settled on boots in the end. Most of that evening, I had my boots off and my foot elevated.

This year, I have a broken little toe that xrays show as healed, but the pain and swelling remain. As I was pulling out some very fancy dresses my sister Amy sent me years ago which I have never had anything formal enough to wear to, I realized I might have to wear footwear other than sneakers.

The "fish" dress is sequined from head to toe, and subtlety was not what the famous designer was going for. The dress had to have been a near $1000 dress when it was fresh off the rack. My sister Amy is the uber-shopper, finding incredible deals along off-beaten paths, and we are often the recipients of her finds. I am small, so not a middle size that gets snatched up, and so the gorgeous fish dress has hung in my closet for three or four years now, awaiting an event where loud screaming attire is called for.  She also sent a full length green velvet gown, that is exquisite and feels like warm butter poured gently over every pore of my dried rhinoceros skin. I love it, but again..... where does one wear such a dress? Not to clean the toilets, I am pretty sure.

Did I dare to wear either one to the xmas dinner/party?  I put each dress on, and pulled out a lovely fairly low heeled metallic silver sandal I had bought only 10 months early for my son's wedding. They hurt just a little, which in the fancy shoe world is saying a lot. Then I had Asherel take my picture in each and sent it to my sisters and fashion advisers, Holly and Amy.

"Which should I wear to the xmas party?" I queried, "And answer fast- the party is Saturday night."
Amy voted instantly for the fish dress, "When else are you ever going to wear it?"
Now by this logic, if she sends me a full scuba diving outfit, I will have to wear it to the party next year cause I assure you I am not ever going to go scuba diving where sharks and blue ringed octopus prowl.
"How loud are the scales...er sequins?" asked Holly.
"Loud," I answered.
"Well you CANNOT wear those sandals with the fish dress. Too much! You need understated black strappy things with high heels."
"I can't go buy more shoes," I said, "And I can't wear my high heeled black shoes. My broken toe is in agony in those shoes."
"Well," she countered,"My vote is for the green velvet, but it is formal. If this is a semi-formal event, you will be overdressed."
"Well won't my sneakers bring the total formal quotient down to semi-formal?" I asked.
"You need to find a friend to cut off the hem to tea length. Hurry, you still have hours!"

I considered all the advice I was receiving. On one hand, I was with Amy- the fish dress was gorgeous. If I were a fish, for sure I would be comfortable wearing it. Or perhaps if I ever win Novelist of the Year award, but first I probably have to publish a novel.  So, when will I ever wear it?

But the velvet dress was gorgeous too, and I am a seamstress at least as accomplished as I am a helicopter builder. I could cut it and hem it to tea length. It was almost dinner time, so I grabbed scissors and eyeballed where I needed to hem it. How hard could this be? I hacked off six inches, hemmed it, and was astonished to find that the hem was even and straight, and now the dress fit the semi-formal category. The silver shoes were perfect with it. I hung the fish dress back at the far edge of my closet.
"Look," I consoled the dress, "Your day will come. When my book gets published and I win all the awards, you are my go-to dress."


A year ago, I think my message over my fashion/shoe woes was along the lines of God accepts all of us no matter what we wear. But I think He is pointing me in a new direction.  The dress choice really was unimportant.... I was just baiting my sisters so I could exchange emails, and laugh, and remember that when we take life too seriously, it loses its sparkle.....its sequins fall off. Most of what I have found to write about over the past year are not the unusual or amazing things that happen in life.... because rarely do either of those occur to me. What I love to write about are the funny things, the moments of laughter that are always lurking even on the edges of despair. I am blessed to have sisters and parents and family and friends that laugh with me.  God's greatest gift to us is Salvation, but I think His second greatest is laughter.

Job 29:23-25 (New International Version, ©2010)

²³ They waited for me as for showers
   and drank in my words as the spring rain.
²⁴ When I smiled at them, they scarcely believed it;
   the light of my face was precious to them.

Tenuous Perches

"What are you going to write about with that picture?" asked Asherel.
"I don't know," I admitted, "I sometimes paint myself into a corner."

It is a strategy I often employ to jump-start creativity. It helps to overcome the "blank canvas" syndrome, or in the writing world, "writer's block." Not that I have either of those right now, but at times I do. However, I think the reason this malady is fairly rare with me is because I am very in tune with my subconscious and when my conscious creative juices run dry, I just tap into the wacky world of the id.  What invariably happens is I draw a picture with no conscious understanding of why I drew it, but when I look at it, I have a revelation. This is one of the ways I hear God. I don't hear him audibly, in case this entire paragraph has my friends dialing mental health services, but I hear Him as I reach deep into the areas of my murky thoughts and pull out a plum.
(See, that was an example.... I had never really thought, till my fingers typed the word "plum" that little Jack Horner was on my mind at all, or that the poem might really be about someone trying to recognize who He is in God's eyes when he has embraced Christ. It is quite obvious to me now, but I will not go into that as I don't think the message of Little Jack Horner eating his Christmas pie is the direction God is guiding me this morning. But I will say that Wikipedia says Jack Horner is the symbol of an opportunistic hypocrite.)

Anyway, back to our regularly scheduled blog. So I was drawing on my iPod while Asherel was strumming with her guitar teacher, and out of my hand, seemingly on its own, a snowy scene with a snowy white wolf and a snow owl emerged.  The tree the poor owl is sitting on is bleakly naked and bending against the extreme slope of the mountainside it clings to. Its roots might just be barely holding on. The snow wolf is poised to catch any snowy owl that might fall should the tree lose its grip. What the wolf forgets, and maybe even the cold owl himself, is that the owl can fly, and if the tree falls down, the owl will stretch his wings and soar off with the snowflakes.
And now the meaning is totally apparent to me, and I even know why I thought of Jack Horner pulling out a plum, incorrect as my interpretation of the poem might be.

I think sometimes we are all feeling like the snowy owl in my picture, huddled against the snow. The world around us is slowly toppling, and hungry wolves prowl ready to devour us. It is cold and bleak and dark. Sometimes, we forget we have been given the means to escape. We forget we are free to soar on wings created by a loving Father.  Like Little Jack Horner, we had the plum in our pie the whole time, but we are always surprised when at just the right moment we reach in and pull out just the very thing we needed to remind us God is there, and in our despair He loves us still.

"I do paint myself into a corner," I continued explaining to Asherel, "But almost always, God shows me a way out. I rarely know what I am going to write, but for almost a year now, God has sent me a message every morning. I can't wait to see what He will do with the owl and the wolf."

Psalm 55:5-7

⁵ Fear and trembling have beset me;
   horror has overwhelmed me.
⁶ I said, “Oh, that I had the wings of a dove!
   I would fly away and be at rest.
⁷ I would flee far away
   and stay in the desert

Isaiah 40:31

³¹ but those who hope in the LORD
   will renew their strength.
They will soar on wings like eagles;
   they will run and not grow weary,
   they will walk and not be faint.

According to His Good Purpose

"What is that wire thing called on the parlor copter you sell? A thrust bearing I think. I need one of those."  Having now two (almost working) designs as well as a kit that we know works, we were now ready to get materials to build our own official  Science Olympiad helicopter.
"OK, what size?"
"Oh, there are different sizes?"
"Yes, and it has to match the size of your prop shaft."
"Oh and I need some of those too."
"What size?"
"The size of the thrust bearing."
Sigh.

"OH," I added, "I also need those really tiny little things that hold the prop shaft on."
"Do you have an item number....or name?"
"No, but they are those little little things on the Parlor copter you sell."
"I will look it up.What size?"
"Well big enough to hold the prop shaft on."
"Ma'am, are you new to this?"
"YES! How can you tell?"

Flash forward to my discussion with my "flight expert consultant", my brother.
I asked him a highly technical and difficult question, that even I didn't understand. Somehow, he seemed to sift through the ignorance and answered, and gave me a very simple formula that addressed the situation. I must be highly secretive here in case we have stumbled on a helicopter that will surprise everyone and actually fly.
"Perfect !" I wrote to him, "That is what we need! Simple formulas! Are there any other simple formulas you can send me?"
He immediately sent me a website filled with formulas. I glanced briefly at it and wrote back.
"I said SIMPLE formulas."
"How much simpler than force times distance do you need???" he asked.

Are you sensing a pattern? Because I am. I am beginning to get the impression that I am not fooling anyone into thinking I have figured out the principles of flight, aeronautic engineering, or perhaps even how to properly brush my teeth. I am an imposter, a fraud, a hopeless dimwit trying to do something I have no training, no education, no experience, no inclination, and apparently no real talent for.  My only saving grace is that I have the wisdom to have a team with two kids much smarter than me.

I love Rodin's sculpture of The Thinker. You all know it, right? It is of the figure sitting with his chin in his hand, obviously deep in thought and complex reflection of the workings and mysteries of the universe. I have always admired that pose, the sentiment expressed by that statue. I have always wanted to be a Thinker.  But I am coming to the sad conclusion that perhaps I just am not. I have produced children who are Thinkers.... and my husband is a Thinker. Even my dog has been described as a Thinker. I am surrounded by thoughtful-ness. It swirls around me while I stand in the eye of the hurricane of ideas, untouched by the winds.

I am often plagued by this damaging desire to be everyone but who I am. It is the basis of my quest for the perfect haircut. When I see adorable short hair walk by, I want short hair. When I see beautiful long hair walk by, I want long hair. When I see great singers, I wish I could sing. When I see great actors, I wish I could act. I am always on the sideline watching excellence and wondering why there wasn't enough to go around.... why am I just me?

These periods usually don't last long, or at least get buried by the march of life as myself, since no one else seems clamoring for my place in the roll-call of humanity. I don't think I am alone, either, in at least occasionally wishing I were someone I am not. God doesn't bother to tell us things we don't need to hear, like "Be more selfish and greedy." Most of us can do that just fine. He takes the time to remind us of the things we keep forgetting, and many times He mentions that we are loved, created by Him to be exactly what we are, and formed in the womb with all those attributes known to Him even before anyone else knows of our existence. If I truly love and trust God, then I have to believe that He knew what He was doing when He made me. He knew I would someday coach a Science Olympiad Helicopter team, and He knew I would not understand most of what I was trying to teach my students. Still, His purpose will be accomplished.

Christmas is a great season to reflect on this issue. I cannot imagine being Mary, the mother of Jesus, no matter how many stained glass windows would be created bearing my image.  If I were the one the angel appeared to on that historic evening, telling me I was pregnant around age 15 with a baby who was going to save the entire world from their sins.... I am pretty sure the conversation would have gone more like this:
Angel:
“Do not be afraid, Mary; you have found favor with God. ³¹ You will conceive and give birth to a son, and you are to call him Jesus. ³² He will be great and will be called the Son of the Most High. The Lord God will give him the throne of his father David, ³³ and he will reign over Jacob’s descendants forever; his kingdom will never end.”(Luke 1)
Me:
"Say WHAT? Are you nuts? I haven't lived my own life yet. How on earth do you expect me to be responsible for someone else's life.... particularly someone who is going to be in the business of reforming people like Mao Tse Tung... or Hitler."
Angel:
 ³⁵ ... “The Holy Spirit will come on you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you. So the holy one to be born will be called the Son of God. ³⁶ Even Elizabeth your relative is going to have a child in her old age, and she who was said to be unable to conceive is in her sixth month. ³⁷ For no word from God will ever fail.”(Luke 1)
Me:
"Well if you insist, but I am telling you there is a first time for everything. If ever a situation was being set up for failure it is this one. You sure God wants to take a chance on me for such an important role? Maybe I should start with something smaller.... like a puppy."

And so on. You get the gist.

But PRAISE GOD, that is not how Mary responded, and as a result, the Messiah entered the world, that "whosoever would believeth in Him would have eternal life."  So, I will go study the web site John sent me, and try to absorb those "simple" formulas, just in case God's purpose is to make a student's helicopter fly.

Philippians 2:13

¹³ for it is God who works in you to will and to act in order to fulfill his good purpose.

Ephesians 1: 11-12
 ¹¹ In him we were also chosen, having been predestined according to the plan of him who works out everything in conformity with the purpose of his will, ¹² in order that we, who were the first to put our hope in Christ, might be for the praise of his glory.

Whiter than snow

ohoh.
The forecast for Binghamton is snow squalls for the day we fly in to see my folks..
"I guess I need to pack snow clothes," I told Asherel.
"Hooray!" she yelped.  We rarely get to see snow here in the south so the snow to her doesn't represent hazardous driving or back breaking shoveling or black ice that flips cars.

But I packed snow play clothes for me too. I remembered the yearly snow sculptures we would build in our front yard . We never made just plain old snowmen. One year it was a snow dragon, another a snow whale. The year we made a giant snow dalmatian, the newspaper took a photo of it and we were front page news.

It can cause so much havoc- particularly to travelers, but it can also be such fun and so magically, softeningly, beautiful. The ugliest slum looks just like the grandest palace under a foot of new fallen snow. Still, it was snow that sent us South.

"That's it," I proclaimed, as Syracuse recorded its one hundred inches of unmelted snow that buried our mailboxes.
"I am tired of burrowing through snow tunnels to get the mail," I told Arvo.
We sat morosely looking out our second story window at a view we could not see because snow covered the window.
But now, I miss the snow, at least in theory. Particularly on Christmas. I doubt Mary and Joseph were praying for snow on that historic day. I think were I attempting a caveside birth with no access to drugs or heated blankets, I would not be looking for snow, no matter how picturesque it might make the birth announcements.

Which sent my highly inquisitive mind to a riveting new question that had never occurred to me. Does it ever snow in Bethlehem? All our Christmas nativity cards show silver white glitter sparkling all around the heavenly baby, with not a speck of frostbite to be seen eating away at his nose. I had never contemplated the potential inaccuracy of the scene. Could it be possible that Hallmark was conning us?  So I quickly researched this startling new thought and discovered that while rare, it does indeed snow in Bethlehem every few years. It would be fitting that the rare event of snow would accompany the unprecedented, unparalleled, extraordinary event of God becoming man that man might understand God.  If there was not actual snow, there certainly was metaphorical snow with the birth of the Savior who would blanket all our sins under a beautiful covering if only we would let Him.

So hooray, we are flying out to be covered in snow!

Psalm 51:6-8 (New International Version, ©2010)

⁶ Yet you desired faithfulness even in the womb;
   you taught me wisdom in that secret place.
 ⁷ Cleanse me with hyssop, and I will be clean;
   wash me, and I will be whiter than snow.
⁸ Let me hear joy and gladness;
   let the bones you have crushed rejoice.