Faithful God

I wonder if most moms are like me--children's birthdays bring back memories of their baby days. Two of my children have birthdays coming in the next few days. Liana will be 10 and I have been thinking about that chubby baby who screamed for two hours when she first met her new mother. My second son Dominic has been on my mind too, especially after church yesterday when we sang that old classic hymn "Great Is Thy Faithfulness."

I am reluctant to admit it, but I never liked that hymn. I love the message and the scripture it refers to that comes from the book of Lamentations. But the song is slow and seems to drag. But maybe it has never been my favorite because I always associate it with the night before my son was born.

I had gone to a Bible study that evening with the guilt-ridden aunt of my derelict first husband. When I was pregnant with Dominic, my husband left me and my first son behind because he didn't want the responsibility of a family. I had to return to my parents' house to live. It was not a good situation. My mother had a baby of her own and my dad resented having to support me when my deadbeat husband should have been doing that job. My husband's family tried to help out as they could. They were a good family and were dismayed over their wayward son. So that's why I was in a church basement with Aunt Rocky when the group closed with the hymn "Great Is Thy Faithfulness." I was in labor but hadn't told anyone. I was alone, afraid, forsaken.

Later that night I could not sleep because of the pain, and I stayed up suffering alone in the dark. In the morning my mother took me to the hospital. I labored alone among strangers, gave birth alone, and two days later went back to my parents' home where it was clear I had to soon move out and be forever alone--in my mind. When you're young you think life is over when any adversity comes along. I was very frightened. Where would I go from here? How could I support myself and my two little ones?

The next few years were more difficult than anything I could have imagined or anything I've ever experienced since. It wasn't just hard for me, but for my children too. They were fatherless, and often motherless, since I worked so much. Many times they were left alone with near strangers. But our God is a faithful God. Jesus promised his disciples when they were afraid and alone, "I will not leave you as orphans. I will come to you." (John 14:18) God never failed to provide all we ever needed.

Dominic, the baby born that incredibly lonely night, grew to be a fine man. All during his childhood he had an unusual blessing on his life. Everything he touched turned to gold-- really. He excelled at every venture. Illnesses were miraculously healed. When doors were shut to him, new ones opened. Difficulties quickly turned around. He was "lucky". He would find money; he would win contests--from writing essays to racing Pinewood Derby cars, to guessing jelly beans in a jar. Even now, Dominic is doing great things in his career. The work he does is changing the world. God has always had a plan and a purpose for his life and continues to lead him. God is faithful to him.

God has been faithful to me too. I would need a book to tell of his kindness, mercy and gentleness to me throughout my entire life. "Let us hold fast the confession of our hope without wavering, for he who promised is faithful." (Hebrews 10:23) Why do we worry? What exactly has God promised? "I will be their God, and they shall be my people...and I will be a father to you and you shall be sons and daughters to me, says the Lord Almighty." (II Corinthians 6:16, 18) Dominic and I were both deprived of having an earthly father who loved us. But our heavenly father always takes good care of us.

God has also promised, "I will never leave you nor forsake you." (Hebrews 13:5) I have changed my mind about that hymn. Instead of a reminder of a night of despair, I will remember with gratefulness how God led me through that dark valley. I will remember his blessings on each member of our large family. God takes trouble and tragedy and hardship and turns it to healing and hope and joy.

"But this I call to mind, and therefore I have hope: the steadfast love of the Lord never ceases, his mercies never come to an end, they are new every morning. GREAT IS YOUR FAITHFULNESS." (Lamentations 3:21-23)

Creation groaning

Scripture tells us all of creation is groaning, waiting for redemption. I haven't been able to write. There are no words for the sorrow all around us. The earthquake and the people and their stories and the pictures we see from Haiti are heart wrenching. Also last week I ran into my former neighbor whose son died in Afghanistan last year. She told me of a single day of joy she experienced last month, the first in almost a year. But then she turned once more to tears as she reminded me the anniversary of Marc's death was approaching. I had not forgotten.

On Sunday we learned a 12-year-old boy from our church was killed in a sledding accident. I think of my neighbor and another good friend who have lost children and I know the oceans of tears this family will shed for the rest of their lives. Will the suffering in this world ever end? My own life is insignificant and shallow next to these people and their despair. How can I write about trivia? How do we pray? What can we do?

"Comfort, oh comfort my people," says our Lord in Isaiah 40:1. On the news we see pictures of food and supplies stacked on the tarmac in Haiti. Are there not enough people to distribute it? I wish I could join a team and go there. I read that our governor came back on a plane with 53 orphans who will stay with foster families until they are adopted. Sign us up. We will care for a child. I know my frustration of being helpless to help is felt all around us here in the land of plenty.

We have learned more about the 12-year-old's death. At the hospital the nurses removed his boots and found a piece of paper with a scripture written on it. He apparently had tucked this into his boot before going sledding that day. This paper was given to his parents when they arrived at the hospital. Their only son's last gift to them.

Here is the scripture: "Count it pure joy, my brothers, whenever you face trials of many kinds. Because you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance. Perseverance must finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything." (James 1:2-4)

Tower of Babel

It is Day 12 and I have continued with my reading! That might not sound like much, but reading the Bible in a year is a major undertaking and I hope I will succeed.

A few days ago I read Genesis 11 about the Tower of Babel. The tower was being built after the flood, after God had told people to scatter and populate the earth. The people say, "Come, let us build ourselves a city and a tower with its top in the heavens, and let us make a name for ourselves, lest we be dispersed over the face of the whole earth."

The commentary in my Bible says, "This episode is significantly more important than its length suggests." (It is only nine verses long.) "It presents a unified humanity using all its resources to establish a city that is the antithesis of what God intended when he created the world. The tower is a symbol of human autonomy, and the city builders see themselves as determining and establishing their own destiny...The Babel enterprise is all about human independence and self-sufficiency apart from God. The builders believe that they have no need of God. Their technology and social unity give them confidence in their own ability..."

For those who don't know the end of the story, God confused their language, so they couldn't understand each other. Then he sent them on their way and they settled in other lands.

Now I was thinking about this story and remembering the huge structure in Dubai that is being built. And then, to my surprise, I found an article about it in the Sunday paper. The Dubai Burj Khalifa has been completed and is now the world's tallest building at 2,717 feet. Interestingly, people from other countries came to Dubai to build it. These people, Pakistani, Bengali, Indian and Chinese, have protested against human and civil rights violations while they worked on the tower. The article goes on to say that 85% of the population of Dubai is from somewhere else in the world.

So what does this all mean? One tower being built long ago by people who spoke the same language and didn't want to spread out as God wanted them to do. The Tower of Babel was most likely in Babylon, now Iraq. Not too far away is the tower in Dubai, built by people who had spread out to other lands, but then converged in this city of many languages to build. But human nature hasn't changed--the rebellion toward God and the desire to be independent from him. People are still very much impressed by their own technology and they still want to make a name for themselves.

"The arrogance of your heart has deceived you, you who live in the clefts of the rock, in the loftiness of your dwelling place, who say in your heart, 'who will bring me down to earth?' Though you build high like the eagle, though you set your nest among the stars, from there I will bring you down, declares the Lord." Obadiah 1:3,4.

What do you think?

Facebook

I am witnessing first hand how destructive facebook can be. I've never been a fan of this social networking idea and only opened an account because all my kids were sending me a "friend request." I have nothing on my facebook page except a picture my daughter-in-law sent there (not sure how that works) and there are no comments except the initial one when someone found me there. Arielle would like to have her own page and I'm sure I would have loved it as a girl her age. But she doesn't need another thing to encourage her to spend more time on the computer, and now after what has happened with my other kids, I don't see her having one in the near future.

After a phone call from one son and an e-mail from another directing me to check out the action on facebook, I realized I needed to see what was going on. I read a string of comments on one person's page. This person had a video clip and asked what others thought of it. Others made it clear they didn't like it. So then she defended herself and it went on and on and got ugly. These are family members and they are all adults! They were saying things they would never have said in person. I can only imagine how it goes with high schoolers and their facebook interactions.
While I was reading, a screen popped up and an old friend of mine wanted to talk to me. That was distracting! I tried to respond to her, but I don't think I did it right. So she might think I didn't want to talk to her, which I do, but not right at that moment. So maybe I offended her. Later as I skimmed other friends and their pages, it all just looked so superficial to me. People have said that about e-mail, but at least e-mail is personal. How about people connecting to other people with phone calls? Or dropping by for a visit? I admit I too often neglect this important human interaction. Then there wouldn't be nasty words among family and friends.

Can someone fill me in on what is so great about facebook? I just can't see it. Maybe I'm too old-fashioned. Will we eventually have a whole generation of people who can only communicate with brief comments sent through cyberspace?

You can also tell me your thoughts on blogs. Maybe they are just as bad, I don't know.

New Year Project

Fred and I have decided to work through one of those Read-Through-The-Bible in a year schedules. Our pastor posted a few different ones on his blog and we chose one and diligently began reading. Fred is even more serious than I am, and I will see him with his Bible open and it will remind me that I haven't done my reading for the day yet. So far, we read two or three chapters in Genesis, one in Psalms, and one or two in Matthew each day. A nice balance of scripture.

Here is the link: www.esv.org/biblereadingplans We are doing the first one on the list, but as you can see, there are many different ones. You can even hear them rather than read them. You can also sign up to have the passage delivered to your e-mail box so you don't have to go on the website each day. Of course, you don't have to use this version of the Bible. The idea is just to read!

I have an ESV Study Bible and sometimes I get caught up in the commentary and it takes me a long time to finish a chapter. The study Bible gives the historical context, which I find fascinating. It is even more meaningful to do this daily reading with a friend. With Fred and I both reading the same passages each day, we have been discussing ideas that we find interesting or puzzling or inspiring.

Let me know if you choose to do our plan and then I can talk about what we read with you too!

Best Christmas

My good friend Helen wrote this story:

I have been blessed by the goodness of God's love throughout my life. I have had the special blessing of loving parents and a father in particular who always tried to make Christmas special for his daughters. I have enjoyed many special Christmases, so finding the best was a difficult assignment. I can remember only a few that were not so good and really remember one truly outstanding Christmas.

It was Christmas 2002; I spent the previous Christmas anxiously worrying about the health and welfare of my unknown daughter as she waited for me in China. 2002 found me at home with my youngest daughter for almost 8 weeks and settling into a pattern, we were now a family of three! My eldest daughter and I had waited, prayed and thought so often about this baby who would complete our little family that having her home for that first Christmas made the lights brighter, the ornaments shinier, our smiles broader and our hearts fuller. I remember wrapping gifts late that Christmas Eve with my mother at my side and rejoicing with the angels because my baby was finally home.

The Best New Year's Eve Ever

We woke to snow again! I can't remember it ever snowing here three times in the month of December. Even though it was supposed to warm up later, we all trekked outside to shovel the couple of inches on the deck and driveway. It was hovering at the freezing mark, perfect for packing snow. So we had a brief snowball fight and then the girls wanted to roll balls across the grass and make a snowman. We worked for quite awhile and made Frostina, Frosty's wife. The girls then wanted to make a whole snow family, so we stayed outside another hour or so and made two more snow people, plus a snow dog. It was so pleasant to play outdoors because no one was cold even though were were on our hands and knees digging and sculpting.

I guess it wouldn't take much to make this the Best New Year's Eve Ever. I have had a lot of unpleasant ones. When I was a child, New Year's Eve meant the day before one of the worst days of the year--New Year's Day. My dad was most irritable and demanding on that day and there was no escaping him. Then, of course, January 2nd came and that meant back to school with nothing to look forward to for a long, long time. Later on, I spent many lonely nights babysitting on New Year's Eve watching other people on TV having fun. In high school there were parties when people hooked up and kissed at the strike of midnight, but that never seemed to happen to me.

But this day is enjoyable with Fred and the girls. A couple of years ago we started our own family traditions for New Year's Eve, but this year was especially fun because the girls are older. Fred came home after our snow adventure and we began a board game marathon. We played Monopoly, 10 Days in Europe, 10 Days in Asia, Scotland Yard, and Apples to Apples. The girls are formidable opponents now! Then it was time for our seafood fest. We rarely have seafood because it is expensive, but we splurge on New Year's Eve. Fred hauled up the clam steamer from the basement where it stays the whole year until this special night. We boiled up shrimp and baked some scallops and also steamed a couple of crab legs. Everyone dug into his or her favorite.

I had a special surprise for the girls for the rest of the evening. Months ago I ordered Celtic Thunder's second DVD and we cuddled up on the couch next to the twinkling of the tree lights and watched the concert of our favorite group. Each of us was ready to drop off to sleep but we turned on New Year's Rockin' Eve about 11:45 to see the ball drop. Instead, we were thoroughly disgusted with Jennifer Lopez's quasi-nude performance. Enough of that.

What a glorious, blessed year it has been. HAPPY NEW YEAR, FAMILY AND FRIENDS!

Chrissy's Story

My daughter-in-law Chrissy wrote this story.

My most memorable Christmas to date took place when I was between the ages of 10 or 12. My mom could never afford to buy us presents for anything, Christmas included. But my Nan (who is my Mom's Mom) always had gifts for us. She asked me what I wanted for Christmas that year, and without hesitation I told her I'd like a gold cross necklace. I still think to this day, and almost immediately thought that day as a little girl, "What in the world made me ask her for that?" I mean we were not raised in a Christian home, and we certainly didn't go to church. But either way, I was proud of myself for that brief moment. I don't think I fully understood at the time why I felt so proud, but I do now. Christmas day came, and we went to my Nanny's for dinner and gifts. I still remember when I opened the little box and saw this simple, but stunning little gold cross necklace that was now my own. I remember wearing it almost every day, but eventually, being a little girl, I lost my cross necklace, but never lost my love for the Lord. That out of all the Christmases I've had and can remember is the one I always think of when I go back through my Christmas memories. It brings tears to my eyes to think how God reached out his hand to me when I never knew him.

Christmas Long Ago: My Story

My family lived briefly in a small logging town in Utah called Panguitch. We lived in a tiny green trailer-- Mom, Dad, and four children. My new little brother Shane had just been born in November the year of that memorable Christmas. Having no washer or dryer, my mother washed out his diapers by hand and hung them outside in the icy air to dry. I remember her bringing them inside, stiff and frozen.

I was seven and in second grade when we lived in Panguitch. I walked to and from school alone down the main street in town and looked into store windows on my way. Once, around Halloween, I bought wax teeth and big red wax lips in one of those stores.

That Christmas was snowy and cold. We were having a holiday party at my school. Each child drew a name, and we had to buy that classmate a gift--limit 50 cents. I don't remember the child who received my gift or even what I brought to share. Thinking back, I know it must have been a hardship for my parents to buy one more gift during a very difficult season in their lives.

I still have two of the four gifts I received for Christmas that year. A boy in my class gave me a treasure--a picture book filled with stories and poems about Christmas. It had the words to The Twelve Days of Christmas in it, and a poem about "Jesus, our brother, kind and good." There was a story about two girls taking a penny walk at Christmas. I'd never heard of a penny walk before and wanted to try it. You flip a penny at every corner while you're walking. If heads, you turn right, if tails, you go left. Oh, how many times I read that book through the years!

I also still have a doll that was mailed to me from my grandmother in California. It was a Terry Lee doll and she could walk and turn her head. I named her Sandra. My mother later told me she had two dollars apiece to spend on each of her children that Christmas. The winter in Utah was bitter cold but girls were required to wear dresses to school no matter what the weather. My mother bought me red tights. I was thrilled to have them and remember playing hopscotch on the blacktop at school while I was wearing them. Also, Christmas morning, hanging on our small blue spruce tree, I found a tiny, stuffed dog named Topper. I think the name was inspired by a TV show I had watched.

The images in my mind of our time in Panguitch are still vivid. My mother always made Christmas special, and that year was no exception. By the next holiday, we would be living in a real house and the first Christmas there was magical. But I will hold that story for another time.

Stacia's Memorable Christmas

My son Dominic's fiancee sent me this story:

One of my favorite Christmases was when I was about 7 years old. I remember this Christmas very well because my family was all together at my grandparents' house. All my aunts and uncles were there, exchanging gifts and laughing together. There was a coffee table with a bowl of walnuts in it and a nutcracker, and everyone ate walnuts out of the shell. There were Christmas songs playing on the radio. Suddenly we heard a knock on the door and a jolly "ho ho ho!" We had a special visitor--Santa Claus! He came down the stairs in a red suit holding a big red bag of toys for us kids. I would find out later that it was my Uncle Greg dressed up, but of course it was Santa to us. There were many wonderful toys in the bag, but the best one of all was too big to be wrapped. All the adults got kind of hushed and Santa said he had a special present for me. Then he went behind a door and came out wheeling a bright green scooter with tassels on the handle bars. I shrieked with delight--a scooter was every child's dream! This one was sleek and shiny and very fashionable. Santa then wheeled out a new bike for my brother, and he was thrilled, too. We couldn't stop talking about our new wheels. When we got home that night my dad brought them down to the basement and we rode around and around in circles until we were tired. I rode that scooter for years until I finally parted with it at a garage sale. I think my brother still has his bike up in the attic.

My Favorite Christmas

Here is Arielle's story:

I love Christmas time. Christmas is the time when baby Jesus was born. Lots of people get excited about the gifts and other stuff and they forget about what Christmas is really about. At our house we try to not forget the true meaning of Christmas, but we sometimes forget.

Every year we go to our church for a Christmas concert. It is amazing to see all the singers and hear the music. I always look forward to the concert. On Christmas Eve our church has a play of the nativity for the kids. One of my favorite Christmases was the year when my mom and dad bought me a Felicity American Girl doll. I play with her, but I am careful to keep her hair looking nice. Every morning on Christmas I wake up, get my sister, and we both go into my mom and dad's room to wake them up. When they are awake, we open presents in the living room.

All my big brothers and my big sister come over for dinner. Before dinner we all sit down in a circle in the living room and take turns opening more gifts. I love it when all the family gets together. At dinner it is always crazy when all the plates of food are passing from person to person and everyone is talking all at once. That was the best Christmas I can remember.

A Christmas to Remember

The girls had a creative writing assignment about a favorite or memorable Christmas from the past. I told them I would also write a story. So over the next couple of days, I will post them all. Readers! Please contribute!

Here is Liana's story: She was thinking of the Christmas when she was two but added some more recent details.

The countdown until Christmas has started. Soon it will be Christmas, the best time of the year. The best part was the family that would come. Even a two-year-old like me would not just care about the gifts. But I'm not saying that I don't want any presents. Christmas Eve is coming and that means the wonderful Christmas Eve concert. I'm strolling now through the house, my eyes gazing at the Christmas tree. Oh, what a beautiful tradition it is! Just lining up to Christmas is great! Going to the mall and getting the chocolate samples is awesome. On Christmas morning I got a doll house with furniture in it. It was sure a Christmas to remember.

Blizzard

What were you doing during the blizzard of 2009? Many people will have stories to tell in the years to come. I have a story of the blizzard of 1996 that brought us 30.7 inches of snow. I was stranded in a hotel in Philadelphia where I had gone for a chiropractic seminar. The highways and the airport were closed and no one could leave the city. The hotel had no restaurant so my fellow classmates and I had to venture out on foot and try to find some place that would sell us something to eat. We found a convenience store with a line of people wrapped around the building. But we bought food and then stuffed the containers in the snow below our window at the hotel so nothing would spoil and we could later heat our meals in the one microwave in the lobby.

This blizzard was mild by comparison, but I hope we will all remember it with a smile and with gratitude for a special weekend. The four of us were home together, gladly stranded and unable to go anywhere. Fortunately, we had no obligations like many others did, so we watched the storm arrive with an increasingly dense, dark gray sky as the light snow began and then quickly turned to a furious, relentless storm.

The girls couldn't wait to go outside and were delighted when the lawn was quickly blanketed in white. Fred and I did a quick shoveling after a few inches of snow accumulated, then retreated indoors for snacks, hot drinks, and movies by the fire. Is there anything better? At dusk we decided to shovel again even though the storm was still blasting through the area. I pushed all the snow from our wooden deck and then started on the driveway. Fred said to leave it be, that he would get out the snow blower in the morning. But I didn't want to quit. I felt like I could shovel forever. The falling snow was beautiful, magical somehow. The outdoor Christmas lights switched on and cast a colorful glow on our yard. I walked up the road in front of the house for a picture and then called the girls to come and see. Liana spent most of her time digging a big hole in the mound we had shoveled and then sat in it for quite awhile, transfixed by her own imaginary world. Arielle piled high a huge mountain of snow to make a fort. No one wanted to come inside.

Sometime in the middle of the night the Nor'easter left us to head further north. More shoveling awaited us. In the bright, cold sunshine we cleared at least another six inches. This time, our work was more drudgery than fantasy. The girls bickered and threw snowballs at each other. Fred and I just wanted to get done. The magic was gone. But I will always remember the snowfalll that evening when we were caught up in a winter wonderland.

Looking for Christmas

Christmas is coming way too quickly and we are going through the motions doing all the same actitivies we do every year to get ready. I'm enjoying them all! But I notice with each thing we do, we try to capture that essence of Christmas--something fulfilling, nostalgic, meaningful. Deep in our hearts is a wistful longing for the excitement and magic we experienced as a child. Or if not that, then something we can't name, something elusive, something we can't quite grasp.

Fred and the girls and I have been shopping at the mall and had a fun time trying to hide gifts from each other and not give away secrets. We went to the tree farm on the coldest, windiest day of the season (again!) and froze as we rode out to the fields in a hay wagon driven by two big horses. We cut the most beautiful tree we've ever had. It is 7 feet tall, full and lush. Fred placed thousands of lights on it and the girls hung our ornaments, each one attached to a memory.

My friend had a ladies' Christmas party in her 180-year-old country home, fully adorned in Christmas finery. We snacked and talked and sang carols, and listened to a dramatization of Jesus' birth. On Sunday we attended the concert at our church and heard a full orchestra and choir presenting glorious music. If you can't find Christmas there, where would you? We're building traditions and the girls are forming their own warm and fuzzy feelings about the season.

It struck me that when I'm looking for Christmas, I'm really looking for Jesus--a touch, a word, a connection to Him. It's His birthday, after all. He is not elusive. He's at the mall and the farm, in our homes and churches. He is in our hearts. Maybe I need to just stop and talk to Him, slow down and listen for His voice.

Why do we love the trappings of Christmas? Our huge tree reminds me of life, the rich full life God has given me here on earth and the hope of eternal life. I love the tiny, twinkling lights on the tree. They shine like the stars forever and ever. I love to sing the old carols. We'll one day join choirs of angels singing praises to God. We so enjoy giving gifts to our children, just as God loved us so much that He gave us His son.

All these things are glimpses of what can't be fully realized now. They are a hint of the future, the promise of what is to come. We cling to our little earthly traditions and long for heaven.

At the concert we heard a beautiful song that was unfamiliar to me. I found the words on the web, but could not find any site to post here so you could hear it. It's called, "All the World Was Waiting." I don't know who wrote it. If you find it, let me know. I want to hear it again.

All the world was waiting, for the promised One,

Prophets through the ages claimed that He would come,

Would He be a warrior, or a conquering King?

Could he be the one who'd save us from our sin and suffering?

All the world was waiting on the night that you were born,

God of life eternal, in a fragile form,

Shepherds gathered closer, gazing at your face,

Wondering how this helpless child could save a fallen human race.

All the world was waiting, as you became a man,

Truth was in your teaching, healing in your hand,

Though your heart was sinless, you laid down your life,

To pay the debt that only perfect love could satisfy.

Now the world is waiting, for another day,

When your Sovereign hand will turn the final page,

And all will be accomplished, our trials and tears will end,

And those who've longed to see you will never wait again.

On aging

A friend of mine sent me some great thoughts on getting old from Max Lucado. It's always bothered me that we are supposed to buy into the idea of making ourselves look younger than we really are. Why? What's wrong with looking our age? I'm all for keeping healthy, but don't you think our culture goes a little too far in promoting youthfulness? To all of my friends who are my age--we've traded our looks for the great wisdom we've acquired! I think it's far more valuable.

"How precious are your thoughts to me, O God! How great is the sum of them!" Psalm 139:17.

Aging is a universal condition. But the way we try to hide it, you would think it was a plague!
There are girdles which compact the middle-age spread for both sexes. There are hair transplants, wigs, toupees, and hair pieces. Dentures bring youth to the mouth, wrinkle cream brings youth to the face, and the color in a bottle brings youth to the hair. All to hide what everyone already knows--we're getting older.

Just when the truth about life sinks in, God's truth starts to surface. He takes us by the hand and dares us not to sweep the facts under the rug but to confront them with him at our side.

Aging? A necessary process to pass on to a better world.
Death? Merely a brief passage, a tunnel.
Self? Designed and created for a purpose, purchased by God himself.

There, was that so bad?

Let it snow!

Finally! A free weekend. Nothing at all planned, but snow was in the forecast. The girls were hopping with excitement. They were out the door when the first few flakes began to stick to the grass.

It was a warm snow, coming up from the South. It fell wet and heavy, pulling down our bamboo and breaking a huge branch from the lilac tree. But it frosted the trees with ice and was so beautiful. The snow was great for packing and the girls made the first snowman of the season.

Inside, Fred made a fire in the wood stove and we ate snacks and watched silly Christmas movies all afternoon-- Elf and Christmas with the Kranks. We also watched parts of The Santa Clause series AGAIN. Highly recommended!

Fred's leg is healing. He has to be reminded to be cautious because he tends to overdo. I am making an effort to massage it well every night and that has helped a lot with the swelling. Our hands have healing in them. I believe it and scripture supports it.

Our wonderful weekend is ending. Fred prayed at dinner, "Thank you, Lord, for allowing us to see another winter and another snowfall." We are grateful. Another season upon us and we are here to celebrate it!

Happy Birthday, Daughter!

My daughter turned twelve today. In the early morning quiet I thought back over my years with her. The tears my mother and I shed when we first saw the empty crib in that hotel room in China just hours before Arielle was mine. Tears because I really, truly, would have a daughter at long last. Indescribable joy when the thin baby with the huge dark eyes was placed in my arms.

Her hair grew thick and black and her big eyes didn't miss a thing. Even as a baby she carried with her the wisdom of the ages, serious and thoughtful. My little girl spoke in sentences just past her first birthday and could read all the letters of the alphabet before she turned two. She's always loved books and as a toddler would quietly take each one from her shelf and page through it, her little face so intent on learning and understanding. Then she would stack the books neatly beside her as she finished them. They were her treasures.

I think of my little ballerina in her many tutus and later my girl with her black hair braided with red ribbons performing at Chinese New Year. She learned to play piano and entertained us at home with joyful abandon but never enjoyed the recitals. She couldn't bear the thought of making a mistake. Once, as I watched her playing a lively tune, a word of scripture clearly came to my mind, "She's the apple of my eye." God's. And mine.

Her mind is her strength, but with caution and persistent effort she learned to swim and ride a bike. She's never been interested in sports but loves our vegetable garden and has diligently worked beside me year after year, planting, hoeing, harvesting. She has learned to sew and has begun to cook. Oh, there is so much more I want to teach her!

She loves the ocean. Our last trip to the shore I watched her edge further and further from us. Her thoughts were her own as she plunged into the swirling water, alone, but under our watchful eyes. What are your dreams, precious daughter?

The years fly faster and faster and soon she'll soar away too. Wait, please wait! I'm not ready for her to go! She is becoming a beautiful young woman, poised, confident, and never losing her sweet and gentle nature or the ancient wisdom in her eyes. Happy Birthday, Arielle! We love you!

Traditions

For weeks Fred has been looking forward to Black Friday, maybe even more than Thanksgiving. After several years of repetitive behavior, people tend to call something a tradition. So we continue our tradition this year.

We're not like those fanatics who go out in the middle of the night to camp out around the Walmart waiting for the doors to open. No, we leave the house around 7am and head to the mall, search the already packed parking lot for a spot, and then join the throngs of shoppers. Usually we don't do much buying. We just soak up the festive atmosphere, eating chocolate samples from the speciality shops and drinking Starbucks coffee. Maybe get a glimpse of the REAL Santa. Yes, we have the real deal at our mall.

Today we left a little later because we were bringing Dominic and his fiancee with us. They came to visit from D.C. and we talked them into joining us on our "day-after-T-day tradition". This year the coffee line was too long and the peppermint bark quota had already been distributed at Williams-Sonoma. Penneys had no more of the free snow globes they advertised and Fred and Arielle couldn't go off to shop together because I was pushing Fred in a wheelchair! That was quite an adventure. Wheelchairs are even harder than strollers to maneuver in store aisles and trying to get Fred up a ramp was near impossible if not for Dominic coming to the rescue. But wheelchairs are great for holding things. My purse went on Fred's lap and shopping bags were linked over the handles. Friends, don't you miss strollers for that reason alone? I wish I had my old stroller just to use as a shopping cart.

Our big bargain of the day--a Land's End coat for Liana that was 50% off! The most enjoyable part of the morning--a late breakfast at a diner with Dominic and Stacia. After our busy morning we got to relax and talk before they headed back to the big city.

Black Friday evening will hopefully become a tradition too. Fred made a fire in the woodstove, the girls roasted marshmallows, and I wrote my blog notes on paper so I could be downstairs with my family. On Thanksgiving around the table our kids had said what they were thankful for this past year. Over and over we kept hearing from each of them, big ones and little ones, "Family." My heart if full of gratitude tonight.

Indian Sam

I remember well the autumn I turned 12. I was in 7th grade and my school was on double sessions. I left the house after lunch and came home on the bus in the dark. My family lived in suburban St. Louis and we appeared to be an ordinary family, making snowmen in the yard in the winter, riding our bikes around the neighborhood in the summer, battling the bully on our street year-round. But we were not ordinary.

My own daughter Arielle is now exactly the same age I was that eventful evening, November 20th, long ago. I wonder how she would have reacted to my circumstances. If I remember right, it was also a Friday night, like it is now. My favorite show, Gomer Pyle, was about to start and I missed it because my new brother was coming into the world, right in my parents' bedroom.

My mother was against hospital births. Actually she is still pretty much against the medical profession in general. She gave birth to five children at home. But this brother, born when I was 12, was the most memorable for me. I remember the mysterious noises coming from the bedroom and my dad having me run get things for him. It was both scary and exciting. I was worried about my mother but knew something incredible was happening. I was privileged to see my newborn brother immediately after he was born. My mom and dad nicknamed him Indian Sam because his little face was so red. (We didn't worry about political correctness back then.)

For homework that weekend I had to write a report for English class. I wrote about what was foremost in my mind, of course! I told about how I had assisted with the birth and everything about Indian Sam, the baby I already adored. I read my report aloud in class. The teacher's reaction was stunned silence. My classmates didn't stir or say a word either. I knew then that it was a weird thing that I had witnessed and maybe my family wasn't like other families.

My mother probably influenced me to have my firstborn son at home, attended by a midwife--a MAN--and his trainees, who sat around and smoked cigarettes in the bedroom where I was laboring. It was a horrible experience and the rest of my boys were born in the hospital. (Those births weren't much better, but at least the air wasn't toxic.) After nursing school I worked in maternity in a hospital in Oklahoma City hoping to make other women's births a little more pleasant. I experienced many miracles there, for every child born into this world is a miracle.

Indian Sam was a very special brother. My other two brothers were playmates, lots of fun most of the time, but this one was my baby. I claimed him as my own. My mother gave me a lot of responsibility in caring for him and I thoroughly enjoyed him. Even today, we have a close relationship. So, Happy Birthday, Little Brother!

Pleasures

"The Lord takes pleasure in His people." Psalm 149:4. I know, hard to believe. This word comes after an exhortation to praise, rejoice, and sing. If God desires our praise, I will give it.

I was cooking dinner and Liana came into the kitchen and looked out into the backyard. "Mom, look at the sky!" I turned the light off so we could see better. Our window faces the setting sun and the sky was painted with glorious streaks of color. Liana ran for the camera, and we went outside on the deck to enjoy the view. No photo could capture this moment.

I'm so glad my children haven't become cynical, taking for granted the special gifts of the earth. They are both vigilant, scanning the outdoors for wonders--a deer that strays from its family to explore our yard, the groundhog quadruplets born in the spring, the little birds that find our feeder. Even a caterpillar or ladybug or praying mantis will excite them.

As we each look at our little piece of the earth, are we struck by the beauty of it? In the morning I watch the soaring birds departing from their roost in the bamboo grove. The sun rises like a glowing red ball and illuminates the shocking yellow trees, their leaves now falling gently and covering our lawn. Fred has been unable to do his usual autumn leaves clean-up, and they are piled high in the corners where the wind blows them. I enjoy listening to the rustling as they are scattered about. "God has displayed His splendor." Psalm 8:1.

Does God really delight in us that way, like we find joy in His creation? Does He smile at our human-ness, faults and all? Is He like a mother who tenderly gazes at her children, adoring them, even if five minutes ago they were being most disagreeable?

"God makes the dawn and the sunset shout for joy." Psalm 65:8. "In His right hand there are pleasures forever." Psalm 16:11. Don't miss them, and don't forget that your Creator also takes pleasure in you.