"Happy Christmas, my Lady!"

For Christmas this year we decided as a family to spent our money and time together on a day trip to San Francisco.  We pondered where to go, and what to see.  Our lovely neighbor, who yearly travels on a charter with friends, shared her experience at the Dickens Christmas Faire along with her newspaper from London, which encouraged us to give it a go!  So, jolly well, we did!!! 

Every year after Thanksgiving, a portion of the Cow Palace in Daly City travels through time arriving at London town during the Dicken's era.  Players in costume and character, perform, sell their wares, and celebrate the beautiful giving spirit of Christmas!  On stages through out the exhibition, live enactments offer frivolous fun.  Skits, songs, dances, & jugglers engagedly took us to another place in history.  This did not appear laborious for them, even though we chose to go on the day before the end, when the energy and passion for a stage run loses energy and steam.  No, these folks were really enjoying the moment!  And so did we!


I could give you a blow by blow review, but that is not my purpose. (Though the Turkish coffee in Golden Square deserves an honorable meantion.)  As my husband and I rested near the roasted chestnut vender, we noted how our daughter and her friend had truly entered interactively in the occasion, like so many other guests, dressing up on period clothing.  When we were their ages, in the 60's and 70's life was different in America.  Dressing up as Hippies and protesting, any and everything, was the role play of the time.  Today, it isn't unsual to see youth and adults alike, step into fantastic alter egos.  The gray headed actors, along with college students, even mother and child duos make up the troupe of actors participating in this event!  Christmas here is about the fellowship, and the activities are relational.  Games, dancing, art lessons, dressing up, hand-on crafting booths, and of course, eating and drinking are the communal focus of the holiday celebration.  It was quite appropriate our adventure to commemorate Christmas, away from gifting, would land us at the Dickens' Christmas Fair! 

As we dined at Red Robin in Fairfield on our trip home, we discussed our costumes for next year.  Our newest annual jollity will be visiting London town, via the bay area.  



As they say in Old London,

 "A Happy Christmas to all!"

The Year the Christmas Tree Broke

It was Christmas 2000.  For 23 years of marriage I had collected, gathered, and hoarded anything Christmas.  It was my holiday!  I loved anything Christmas, but especially Santas.  The magic Santa promised to bring on Christmas I was forever seeking.  Each room had a theme.  Ascending the apartment stairs, trees sang and escorted you.  Polar bears in the master bedroom, snowmen in the girl's room, the boys had a lodge look; but the living room was Santa's,  I was making cross-stitched Christmas stockings with a different style of St. Nick on each one!  My tree was covered with gifted ornaments from the school children of the private school I'd taught in for 20 years.  I hoped my living room gave the growing youth that tingling feeling, when viewing their art work chronicled on the tree.   
Despite my husband's objections, this year I was adding collectables in an effort to upscale my decor.  "We have too many children for those fragile ornaments.  Someone is going to knock them off the tree and you'll get upset and angry."  In my enthusiasm, I couldn't see how my children were actually beginning to dread the season.  My efforts to emphasis serving and giving to others during the holidays was actually wearing them out.  I was so caught up, I didn't realize my efforts were taking the joy out of the season I so loved.  I couldn't see myself as an angry bear if everything wasn't just right.  I didn't see the disappointment in the children's eyes when I rearranged the ornaments they had hung, rearranged because it wasn't balance, or good enough for mom.  I was doing what my mom had always done, not learning from her mistake, but entitled to repeat it. 

The apartment was decorated, but I was still tweaking the living room tree.  My second son, Seth, 15 years old was resigned to help me.  He wanted to be anywhere but there.  I remember his determination to be passively submitted, because no one could win in a battle with MOM.  I felt the tree was off center from the window about 3 inches.  For the final decorating act, I wanted him to pick it up and move it by reaching within the branched to grab the trunk.  Seth was cooperating the best a 15 year old boy can.  But something happened when he reached within the tree.  Some how this artificial treasure of a Christmas tree broke in half and fell over in the center of the room, breaking one of my precious new collectables!  Remorse, and anger came in an instant, but my ears tore my attention away as I listened to my son burst out, "I broke the Christmas tree!!!"  Laughing hilariously he kept repeating, "I can't believe it!  I broke the Christmas tree!  I didn't mean to, but I broke the Christmas tree!!!"  Seth was laughing so hard he couldn't control himself.  No fear of Mom subdued him, and after all, I couldn't hurt him anymore than I already had.  In that moment, I felt like the Grinch having an epiphany revelation.  I could posture in anger, irrationally blame Seth and totally ruin any joy for this Christmas, or I could accept the truth.  We should have left well enough alone!  Seth was more beautiful and important than that tree could ever be.  Nothing in my home should be of more value than the people in it.  I took in the laughter, realizing the virtue of the moment.  Having been critized for adoring my children even as they misbehave, I tried to pull myself back into character.  I remember questioning the sincerity of his apology, as he "laughed like an idiot", I think I said.  That sounds like something I would have said.  But Seth's laughter cracked something in me, which needed shattering.  I remember it now, trying to lean into the lesson, and relive the glory of that instant. I want love, mercy and kindness to flavor my life, more!  Thank you, God, my son broke the Christmas tree of 2000!  It was one of my life's highlights.

Since the day the Christmas tree broke, my definition for perfection has changed.  I am told I am not as "linear" as I used to be.  I find myself opposed to tight structure, or predetermined standards.  God created the trees, called them good, but you'll never see an absolutely symmetrical one in nature.  Maybe aligning with God views includes judging irregularities as "good and beautiful."  If the neighbors are offended by my droopy lights, well, maybe they should just get over it!  I have!  

"Aren't they a little droopy?"

"Aren't they a little droopy?"
"That's the way they are suppose to be," was the demonstrative, slightly annoyed response of my 19 year old daughter.

We were inspecting her handiwork on the outdoor Christmas decorations.  Our meager garage sale gathering of outdoor decorations included three strands of multicolored icicle twinkling lights.  They were pitifully strung between nails placed by a previous renter. 

"Aren't they supposed to be taunt?" I tried to ask in a truly inquisitive manner.   
"No! This is the only way they can possible be hung!  I tried to make them tighter, but it can't be done!  Besides, I like them this way."  We moved from simple installation into an artistic expression.  This was her creation, or expression of Christmas.  These lights were her crayons and she had worked hard to create this outdoor masterpiece.

"Okay! Great.  Thank you!  I am so happy to have lights up!"
 After 35 years of marriage, and rearing 6 children, I have learned, when the kids pull out the "it's art!" card, you go with it!  I smile as I remember another Christmas.  The one where I first began to let go of my neurosis for Christmas decorating perfection.  The year the Christmas tree broke.

Master Manipulator or Usher?

John 16:26-27 In that day you will ask in My name, and I do not say to you that I will request of the Father on your behalf; for the Father Himself loves you, because you have loved Me and have believed that I came forth from the Father. 

In John 15-17 we read the best good bye speech ever.   These are the profound words of Jesus delivered before He sets off on His final mission:  to die for the sins of the world; to make all things new.

Tucked inside we find this gem of a viewpoint.  Jesus is telling us to make our requests to the Father in His name.  It is through our love of Jesus that we have access to the Father.  But Jesus makes it perfectly clear, He is not making our requests for us.  Jesus gave us access, for the purpose of talking to the Father ourselves!  He came to create the Way to the Father!  The Father loves us!  The Father sent the Son to create the path, the opening, by removing the barrier from availability.  Father God is not angry with mankind.  He is extremely glad He got us back!  

As a child, when one of us wanted to do something, we'd gather the siblings as a group.  Conspiring together we had more power in our conviction, and hope of the vision's success would mount!  Finally the 'favorite child' was promoted to spokesperson.  This 'favorite child' may vary, as did the degree of good standing we had at the moment.  Their job was to win our request by manipulating the parents.  Sending the baby of the family was a dead give away.  The message would return, via the youngest,  "If you want something, come and ask for yourselves." 

I feel like Jesus is telling us, we don't need to assign Him the task of Master Manipulator.  I think He is actually refusing that role, because it would deprive us of the ultimate purpose of his sacrifice:  restoration to favorite statue with the Father.  We are all God's favorites!  We all have access to the throne of grace.  Hebrews 4:16 says, "Therefore let us draw near with confidence to the throne of grace, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need."  

Confidence in our relationship with Father God comes from the grace of undeserved love.  Grateful love in return is all the Father longs to see.  Loving desire to consider His Presence as He is always watching His favorites, the way a parent adores their child with great contented sighs.  Under the Ten Commandments our love was defined by laws.  We needed a law to describe what proves to be birthed naturally after receiving God's love.  Loving because of a law is obligatory.  Loving on account of sacrifice is gratuitous. I John 4:18-19 says, "There is no fear in love; but perfect love casts out fear, because fear involves punishment, and the one who fears is not perfected in love. We love, because He first loved us."
Jesus opened the door to the Father's throne room, He ushers us down the aisle, and right before you kneel He whispers in your ear, "Talk to Him yourself!" We can, with confidence from fearless love!

Many a beautiful woman's heart is won by nerdy dweeb who simply voices sincere recognition of her worth.  Jesus is the Bridegroom. Individually chosen, we  collectively are His bride.  Father God approved the match!  He happily receives us as family.  I love my daughter-in-law!  She is my son's true companion.  I love the unity in their relationship.  I loved her before I ever met her, because my son did!  When I met her and saw the loyalty she had for my son, it sealed my love toward her forever.  She is cherry to me!  I want her be secure in my acceptance, as a good mother-in-law should!  I think God's love toward Christ's Bride, which Father helped pick out, is much the same.  We are family!  Father God loves His Girl!  
  
I feel like this is core to the misunderstanding in and about Christianity today.  There is confusion within the believer which gets passed on to the observing world.  Hence God is still perceived as "ANGRY"!  Repentance from fear of Hell and judgement is legitimate, but unless you see the love of God behind it, you always feel your performance 'proves' as in justifies your redemption, rather than it 'proves' as the fruit indicates the type of seed which was planted.

I grew up hearing Hal David's song, "What the World Needs Now Is Love," which is a prayer to the Lord asking for His love toward mankind to individually be manifested to everyone.  As a teacher, I had to learn, if my students were failing to get the message, I was failing as a teacher.  I needed to correct my presentation.  And not everyone processes information the same way, so I have to morph my lessons to reach them all.  No percentage of failure is acceptable.  I want my entire class to pass.  Oh, yeah, and you can't teach something you don't understand!  What the world needs is the love of God, not a conception, but an experience in His Presence.  Our commission is to make disciples.  The how is by hosting God's Presence, which reproduces sincere love, which in turn, draws humanity to the way, Jesus.

I reared my oldest children listening to Hosanna Music.  Gerrit Gustafson wrote "Teach Me Your Ways", performed by Robert Gay from the Victor's Crown album.  The lyrics are also a prayer.

Teach Me Your Ways

If I have found favor 

In your eyes

Teach me your ways 

Teach me your ways 

That I may be pleasing  

In your sight 

Teach me your ways 

Teach me your ways

And if you have 

Called me by my name

Teach me your ways 

Teach me your ways 

And O, let your 

Presence ever remain 

Teach me your ways

Teach me your ways.

I want to know you, Lord

I want to see 

Your glory and grace 

And may your presence 

Go with us 

All of our days 

O Lord, teach me your ways 

O Lord, teach me your ways

.

"You've come a long way, Baby!"

Enjoying a lazy Saturday afternoon, Gwenn watched an old "I Love Lucy" episode.  As I worked cleaning treasures found in my mother-in-laws estate, I listened to the classic comedy.  Lucille Ball was hilarious in timeless fashion, goofy upstaging Desi Arnez's character, husband Ricky.  In the last 2 minute segment we witnessed Lucy apologizing to Ricky, because she was offered the job for which Ricky was auditioning.  I listened to Ricky tell Lucy he wanted her, "at home, cleaning house, cooking his meals and having babies".  Lucy responds submissively; she will stay at home, where she belongs, cooking, cleaning, but she stops short of promising babies!  This was 1950's American core values!

You have come a long way, Baby!  Or have you?  As I watch certain reality shows I feel like woman are selling themselves short.  To see a pack of woman vie for a man or 'super star' is appalling!  The high ratings on these shows which usher in more like programing is alarming.  I watch the spectacle wondering if a generation of women who have walked into a degree of equality which previous generations contended and fought to achieve, are giving up ground.  Like our responsibilities of citizenship, we need to keep moving forward, owning our place in this democratic society, and stewarding our freedoms.  What does taking our gender seriously really look like?  Am I taking issue with a merely base gender appropriate recreational viewing?  Is 'women pandering for "love"' the equivalent to "men fighting in a cage?"  Do we entitle ourselves to socially degrading self-indulgences we justify as "Blessings of Liberty? 

The battle for equality for women in the society is still in progress.  As a mom, I encourage my daughter to value herself, aim high, remember to be giving and kind.  I recite to her the freedoms and equality she has now, that her grandmother didn't have.  It may sound like a recording of 'Nobody Knows the Trouble I've Seen', but I want her to realize the ball is in her possession now.  Take advantage of the ground gained, and plow ahead!  By setting standards for herself,  she will contribute to a better world.  With our liberties, while pursuing our own happiness, let's also promote the general welfare.

Society doesn't watch gladiators kill each other for entertainment anymore.  Or should I say yet?  Reality shows which feature putting yourself in harms way for entertainment lead us on the slippery slope to a digital Colosseum.

Perhaps I am just over sensitive to the idea of "staying at home, where she belongs."  I was delivered from an religious viewpoint that judged and sentenced a woman by a 50's mindset determined to be "Godly".  Anything that reduces a woman to getting her worth and identity from a man, other than Jesus, just angers me!  I have been married for 34 years.  It took me almost 20 years to discover my identity in Christ which set me free to become a decent partner to my husband.  I get my value and worth from God the Father who choose to sacrifice His only begotten Son.  Jesus died so I could be restored in relationship to Father God.  I am very valuable!  The peace from a cherished identity as a Child of God, equips me for all my relationships. Like a precursory jump on the springboard before the vaulting horse, I am propelled into the day ready to share all the love I've received with whoever I touch.  God's love appropriated in my life is the prescriptive lens in my glasses I put on before I begin my daily activities.  Without my glasses on, life is more difficult, challenging, and straining.  It doesn't feel right.  

I aspire to empower my daughter to sustain a gigantic life.  I share my convictions and experiences, intending to bestow her with discernment for ruminating her own conclusions.  I assure Gwenn that she will make sensible decisions on life's quest .  But when I descry something resembling poison ivy on the path, a spotlight of caution I will wield, even when she replies, "I know, I know!"  It's my choice.

Eccentric Aunts...you gotta love 'em!

Sadly, in current times, when you visit a funeral buffet, most presentations are from the deli department of the local groceries!  Our lives are so busy with two income families, we seldom have time to bring the classic favorite recipes to lovingly offer to the guests at any social gathering.  I recently assisted at one such buffets, for a friend from church.  The dessert table was full of tasty, but store bought sweets, except for one huge 13"x9" double layered scratch cake frosted with old fashioned butter cream and colorful sprinkles!  What a labor of love!  The children were enthralled by this unpolished, misshaped, sliding to one side wonder!  Midway through the luncheon, I found a twelve year old boy boldly cutting a 3"x5" piece.  I had to try it!  Oh, the goodness!  Tasting the unique texture took me back to my Aunt Dorothy's Crazy Cake.

Aunt Dorothy was my mother's only brother's wife.  Uncle Bob died when I was 6, so I never really knew him.  Some sister-in-laws of a deceased spouse slip away forever, but not Aunt Dorothy.  She came once or twice a year; not a frequent guest to the home, but her visits were historical!  Aunt Dorothy arrived with a banquet of homemade delights!  Parading into the house came her baked ham, crisscrossed with the pineapple rings and cherries enough to put Martha Stewart to shame!   Side dishes followed; deviled eggs with paprika sprinkled perfectly, classic potato salad topped with sliced eggs & black olives & dusted by paprika,  baked beans endowed with bacon slices, triple layered raspberry torte or the "Crazy Cake".  Chocolate Crazy Cake was made with vinegar and without eggs.  Moist and delicious, it was topped with real butter cream frosting.  But that was not all!  Now came the bags from the grocery!  Sacks and sacks of household basics from toilet paper to dish washing soap, fruit, condiments like sweet pickles and olives (which mom seldom bought), dips and dairy would bless our kitchen!  And the finally the two dogs, chubby indulged miniature poodles, would bound into the house, while Aunt Dorothy coached them into order with a treat of chocolate covered mints!  (She insisted, "The dogs love them. It's the only treat they will eat.")  With her purse would come the box of See's Chocolates, of which everybody could select one, giving all a fair chance at choosing their favorite!  A second round of the box followed.  Then she would settle down to smoke a cigarette.  Her smoking was the marvel.  No special tricks, but just watching Aunt Dorothy smoke while we adored her was memorable.  She came with such a lavish display of affection in her arrival to the home, you felt her love and my childish response was adulation expressed in happy wide eyed stares.  She limited physical affections to kisses on the cheek.  But you knew you were valued and cherished by her regardless!  Her presence was not loud or overbearing, but quietly big.

Aunt Dorothy would speak of family being family, no matter what happened.  When she married Bob, his family became her family.    She came to important occasions, like weddings, and large anniversary celebrations.  Aunt Dorothy had one daughter, Cathy, who was the recipient of the largest doses of motherly affection ever given.  She was a down to earth princess, in my eyes.  As a child, I never processed the affect of the loss of her father.  She had a sadness I didn't understand.  Perhaps Aunt Dorothy did too.  But she choose to give love, even in her pain.  It seems like on the birthday when my oldest sister got her first car, Aunt Dorothy was there.  I recall her crying and mourning her husband.  "Bob loved surprises," I remember her whispering in tears.  Her moments of joy were coupled with mourning, missing the man she had intended to share all the high points of her life. 

Aunt Dorothy chose to love.  It was a decision in which she passionately engaged through her unique ways.  Aunt Dorothy is a hero in my life.  I aspire to follow her example.  If I have it in my power to lavish demonstrations of outlandish love, I will.  Whether it is understood at present doesn't matter.  Time reveals truth.  

Back to the funeral...I couldn't help but retell the accounts of my Aunt Dorothy's visits to a fellow funeral attendee!  Good feelings should be shared, just as the cake we were eating!  Upon finishing the tale I apologized for babbling on sentimentally. My lovely new friend thanked me for the story.  Truly moved, she told me about her nephew in southern California, whom she wanted to go see for quite some time.   She had been pondering and praying about how to express her love to this young man and his growing family.  She felt after hearing my story, she knew what she was going to do.  My great Aunt Dorothy inspired her to action!  

I salute you, Aunt Dorothy, in heaven!  Thank you for loving as it is truly the only way to live!  You are with me in my heart.

And about my mother-in-law...

Along with my utility bill, the city of Redding sends out a leaflet known as "Redding Connections".  This month the useful seasonal announcements included a history of Claude Caldwell & Caldwell Park, which is located down our street.  Claude Caldwell lived in Redding only 11 years before he died prematurely of cancer in 1960.  The lovely family park bears his name in tribute for his volunteer work on the City of Redding Parks and Recreation Commission.  Claude Caldwell embraced Redding as his home, blooming were he was planted, he left Redding a better place.  It doesn't take a lifetime to enrich the world around you.  It just takes a heart willing to engage, taking risks for convictions.  Claude Caldwell had a vision for Redding's Parks which my family of newcomers enjoys everyday.  We've lived here 6 years.  Now I reflect and question myself, "How am I making Redding a better place?" 

Shirley Nadine Williams was born August 6, 1921.  She lived in Bayside, California for over 60 years.  To properly eulogize her, I'd have to write a book...which may be forth coming!  But for now, as I mourn her passing last month, I see her lasting touch on community and family.  She was a great mother!  She was a great-mother-in-law!  Shirley was a hero in my life.

 In February 2006, we called mom with the request, "May we come and stay with you awhile?"  As my husband struggled to explain, she told him, "Just come, we'll have time to talk when you get here."  Sadly our arrival wasn't joyful. When Shirley saw our devastation, she sensitively welcomed us, housed and fed us, and listened.  We had lost everything.  For three weeks she listened to stories, regrets, broken dreams, and grief.  She comforted us without judgement.  Never once did I hear, "I told you so..."  She never condemned us.  She never blamed us. She truly loved us with her consistent acceptance.  
Our healing began.  She helped us lift our heads to the future with resolution.  "Where do we go from here?" was the only question considered.  She watched and encouraged us in a solid decisive manner.  In our most desperate time, mom stood with us.  She was a rock.  

Tom tried to make up for the time lost, though mom never projected the need for that!  She didn't cry over spilled milk.  You didn't hear Shirley mourn for what "could have been".  Shirley enjoyed the moment!  Which leads me to say what happened to us before February 2006 isn't our focus.  Today is!  


Thinking on the lives of these two people challenges me today.  I want to be solid like mom, an empowering covering to my children and loved ones.  I think today I will try to be the best me!  Lord Jesus, help me.  Holy Spirit, be the voice that whispers in my heart which path to take, creating a positive wake in the waters of life!
Like Claude Caldwell, like Shirley Williams, like Jesus.

"It was just yesterday."

Our family traveled to Missouri for the holidays, where we joyfully reunited with family and old friends.  What a great holiday gift! Early one morning our loving friends welcomed us into their family home for coffee.  After 7 long years, we joined to catch up.  Upon greeting us with warm hugs and kind words, I commented to my friend, "It seems like just yesterday,"  to which he immediately replied, "It was just yesterday, because in God, there is no time.  In the God, it was just yesterday."  Both our families had many ups and downs over the years, but the common thread to our stories was God's faithful love manifested to us.  We worshiped the Lord in our fellowship, honoring God's presence as we honored and celebrated each other.  I know God was smiling as we validate each others journey.  It was a wonderful benchmark moment in my life.  
    These friends who are treasures to me, worship the Lord in a totally different stream.  I witness their heart's true holiness, but decline to judge their means of expression.  Their relationship with God is personally private.  As they share with us their faith's expression, I guard this trust from self-righteous analysis.  I don't want to participate in self-righteous judgements.  I don't really have any righteousness in myself.  My rightness before God was provided to my by Jesus when He died for my sins, and arose from the grave.  John 3:16 starts with, "For God so loved the world, that He gave his only begotten Son...".  "For God so loved the world" was the motivation for the following action.  God's love is all inclusive.  The love of God changed man's destiny.  If I want to leave any positive impression on this world, then my definitions of love need to align with God's.  
  Diversion of style does not mandate opposition.  Insecurity won't tolerate diversion.  Insecurity misinterprets diversion as perversion.
     Tom, my husband, likes old things.  Old knives, old tools, old trucks are still good and useful!  Sometimes I think as we age, we want our usefulness in this world validated.  We may be old, but we are still good!  In a society that values production, we forget the value of presence.  Anyway, Tom's love for the old knives conflicts with my love for the new ones!  I use the new bread knife, while he uses an old second hand knife I picked up 6 years ago.  Two knives next to the bread board made me smile.  We have conflicting opinions, but because we have learned to respect the right of each to his own opinion, we live happily.  As a young Christian wife, I thought we had to agree on everything for there to be unity!  In time, we learned to make room for each others opinions.  In Gwen's grade school, they called it "respecting each other".  We share our discoveries with each other, and if one of us doesn't understand a discovery, well, that's okay.  We make room for our individuality.