Yesterdays

Summertime Serendipity

“Do you know that you have a watermelon growing in your flower garden?” My friend was pointing to my “gate-crasher”, the uninvited guest, a single watermelon growing under the asters next to the snapdragons and pansies by my front steps. Even though some of its vines are now blackened by the frost of early fall, it is doing quite well in its sheltered bed. It’s about eight inches long and four inches in diameter; I’ll give it another week before I bring it inside. I first noticed the vine, complete with tiny yellow stars, in late July. I admired its spunk, its audacity to enter my flower bed and make itself at home like that. And, since it seemed to promise a future gift of appeasement, I let it stay. Actually, I shouldn’t have been surprised to find it growing there. It is residing in the flower bed that runs…

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The Manger is Still Full of Surprises

“What are you doing?” My friend was poking around in the house plant by the front door. Her visitor was admittedly curious about the intense scrutiny being paid the plant and the dirt surrounding it. “I am looking for Baby Jesus,” was my friend’s straight-faced answer. Now, Baby Moses in the bulrushes, yes—but Baby Jesus in the potted plant? Remembering the look on her visitor’s face, my friend laughed as she related the story. Discovering an empty manger in the family’s Nativity set, she inquired as to who had last seen the baby and where. The clues had led her to her present location and activity. In a home with small children, looking for Baby Jesus can be a regular event during the holidays. Another friend said that she often finds the baby Jesus, in a pocket of her young daughter’s jeans and dresses, having been taken shopping, to restaurants,…

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Christmas has my Name on it!

“But he that entereth in by the door is the shepherd of the sheep. To him the porter openeth; and the sheep hear his voice: and he calleth his own sheep by name, and leadeth them out.” –John 10:2-3   For years I had hung five Christmas stockings along the fireplace mantel. On the large red stocking, that was for my parents, I had carefully knitted “WAYNE” on one side of the cuff, and “AGNES” on the other. Next to it were hanging two small red felt stockings; one said “KAREN” (me) and the other, “JOHN”, my husband. The two large red felt stockings with white cuffs were for our sons. One was marked “BRENT” and the other, “ERIK”. Then came the Christmas that Brent would bring home his new fiancé. She was from Japan and this would be her first Christmas. We were thrilled, but how could we make…

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Hear my Christmas Cry, O Lord!

O Lord of my aching back and bruised knees From struggling with the ladder to string up colored lights And from crawling under the house to drag out the plywood Nativity silhouettes Because I do not want to be the only one in the neighborhood Not showing the proper Christmas spirit.   O Lord of my anxieties and sleepless nights From worrying about my Christmas budget And anguishing over what to buy for each of my loved ones So that they will know how much I love them.   O Lord of my aching feet and exhaustion From trying to keep up with my frantic schedule, A chaotic calendar of Christmas parties, pageants, and extra holiday baking   O Lord of my headache and extra five pounds From too little rest and too much to eat.   O Lord of my Christmas, Hear my cry! Save me from MY Christmas…

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Grandma’s Peanut Butter Divinity Pinwheels

Spinning hay into gold is an impressive feat, even in the realm of fairytales, but Grandma Smith could spin sugar syrup into fine silver threads, and that was only the beginning. Fluffy white rounds of divinity with a swirl of peanut butter in the center—now that was worth its weight in gold. Every Christmas, Grandma invited a few family members into her small kitchen to help prepare this divine treat. Sometimes this privilege included Aunt Thelma, my mother and me. Even now, as I put on my apron and begin to assemble the ingredients for Grandma’s recipe, it’s as though I have slipped back in time, into my Grandma’s kitchen—a little girl again. ——————— Standing next to Grandma, my head just above stovetop level, I am mesmerized as she lifts the wooden spoon from the clear boiling syrup. “Watch for the silver thread to spin, now,” she explains. “That tells…

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I Choose the Noisy Christmas!

We did not hold Christmas Eve services in our small church. Instead, members of our congregation were encouraged to attend Christmas Eve services in other churches around the community. A few years ago, as I read through the church listings for times and places for Christmas Eve services, I came across the following notice: “_______ Church will hold two Christmas Eve services on December 24 in the sanctuary. 5:00 P.M. ——-Children’s Christmas Pageant 9:00 P.M. ——-Candle Light Service and Chorale (Note: Be aware that due to the number of small children present, the 5:00 P.M. service may be noisy and chaotic. If you are looking for quiet contemplation, you may want to choose the 9:00 P.M. service.)” I burst out laughing when I read the note. Oh yes! What wonderful wild Christmas pageants we had at the church in the town where our sons grew up! As a Sunday school…

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The Angel Under the Bed

I stubbed my toe on an angel this morning. I had smoothed out the blankets as I made the bed, and was fluffing the pillows when I got careless. There is an angel under my bed. He is about five feet tall, counting his “Glory to God In the Highest” banner. He wears a bright blue robe and his face reflects exaltation and joy. I forgot that he was there. My big toe is now various hues of black, blue and purple. So, I am trying to decide what to do with my heavenly messenger. He resides under my bed, covered with a sheet, for ten months out of the year. I pull him out from under the bed in mid-December to proclaim his “Gloria” to all visitors who come through the front door during the Christmas season. He is so magnificent that I also give him sentry duty for…

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Surprise!

“Surprise, Surprise, God is a Surprise!” This little Sunday school song seems to contradict the scriptures promising that God is an Unchanging God, a steady Rock on which to place our trust. Christmas is a perfect example of this Divine Mystery. I marvel that God, who is Creator of Everything, the Beginning and the End, God the Almighty and Most High, is also The Ultimate Loving Father who so loved His children, that He worked miracles and changed world events just to bless those who would reach out to Him. And when His children still did not respond, He made His own Supreme Sacrifice and sent His only Son to die so that we could live forever surrounded by His Love in our Heavenly Home. God’s love never faltered, God’s Nature never changed; God is an Unchanging God. However, how He enters our lives is often unexpected and full of…

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Seeing Christmas Clearly: Erik’s Gift

“Oh, there they are; thank Goodness,” I exclaimed. My sons, seven year old Brent and three year old Erik, had just spent several minutes searching the living room for my reading glasses–again. I had already misplaced them once that morning. “I do not have time for this kind of frustration,” I grumbled. With only three days until Christmas, I felt rushed and distracted and I had been careless. So, there we were, again, crawling around on the floor looking for my glasses. We looked under and behind the sofa, including lifting up each cushion. We checked behind the drapes and on the piano. I was heading for the armchair when Erik spotted them. They were poking out from under the pile of wrapping paper, tags, ribbons and bows that were scattered on the floor. “Hooray for Erik! Thank you, thank you,” I told him as I hugged him. “I need…

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Light in the Darkness

“The people that walked in darkness have seen a great light; they that dwell in the land of the shadow of death, upon them hath the light shined.” Isaiah 9:2 (KJV) “Come in, come in, I want to show you something!” Edna grabbed at my arm as I walked by her room in the nursing center where I worked. “My daughters put up a tree for me.” It was a couple of days before Christmas and we were busier than usual; I was tempted to hurry on by, to explain that I didn’t have the time. But, the look on Edna’s face told me that medical records could wait. At 93, Edna’s grip on my arm was still firm and steady. Even though virtually blind, she skillfully led me to a small artificial tree sitting on the table next to her bed. It was decorated with homemade ornaments and a…

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