"There is plenty of water in the tank, mom."
Translated: "No, I didn't fill the water tank like you asked me to."
Thursday, December 29, 2005
Stand Out!
It may not have been a wrist-watch that the horses used to time my arrival at the gate yesterday. I am thinking maybe it was the thin line of sunshine peeking over the horizon which by the way didn't happen this morning. The field was hidden in a dark, misty fog. For you English majors, I know you may think misty fog is a little redundant but believe me this morning there is no other way to describe it. Needless to say, I didn't see the horses at the gate. I didn't expect to in the fog.
I directed my car's headlights toward the gate, hoping to see them wandering up but they were no where to be found. I called out, I whistled, I shook grain, and made a lot of noise as I worked. There was still no sign of the horses as I filled the last bucket. I decided to walk up the hill and do a personal check of the water tank to confirm yesterday's report, "There was plenty of water, mom." Translated, "No, I didn't fill the tank like you asked." From the vantage point of the tank at the top of the hill, I hoped to see the horses. I climbed. (Note to sister: 'Yes, stairs would be awesome.')
From the vantage point of the top of the hill I still saw no horses. Actually, I didn't see much pasture either, only fog stretching across the land for miles with little tops of trees poking out. I walked to the hot fence to make sure it was still up and running. Still calling, still whistling, and still shaking the portion of grain I retained for noise-making purposes, I thought I caught sight of a figure in the lower pasture. I walked toward it and began making out its shape. It was large and dark and a hay bale. The thought of having to make that dreaded phone call, "The horses are gone," beckoned.
I followed the fence to ensure there were no breaks in the line when a patch of the fog seemed to be lighter than the rest. Interesting how the fog began to take shape, the shape of a short white horse named Stella. "Oh Stella, It's you!" I called out. "Bless your heart." She looked up at me as Stella does. Curious from a safe distance and always keeping her eyes on me.
Stella is not adventureous, she doesn't put her curiousity into action. Curiousity is a wonder, where adventure is the experience of that wonder. It is putting aside our fears, even temporarily, and crossing over a point of no return without knowing the outcome.
Stella always calculates her safety. She watches me from the back of the herd. But she is always watching me, even more than the others. I can see in her eyes she longs to come to me but the fear of the unknown outcome keeps her from approaching, from leaving the safe protection of her herd to check me out. Thus, she misses out on the rewards I have to offer her, a scratch on her chin or a rub down her neck.
To really experience all the rewards God has to offer us we have to be willing to set aside our fear. I am not talking about wreckless abandonment of all caution and care but just a willingness to step into your dream and live it. I have to thank all of the people who encouraged me to step into my dream. Especially my sister, Carol, and her husband, Mike, and the Dailey's, who encouraged me to step out and take the chance and who promised to be there to help me if or rather when things went wrong. Most of all they were excited for me. I have to thank God for my neighbor who has been so willing to help us out whenever we hit a snag. We really had no clue what we were doing and what an adventure we are on.
Sometimes it's like this morning, stepping out into the dark, misty fog not sure what is out there. One step at a time, I continued to call to Stella hoping to find her herdmates were with her. Certainly they hadn't wandered off and left her. As I walked toward her I thought I saw movement but whatever was out there was blending in with the fog. You've seen fog. It's white isn't it? Maybe light shades of gray. How do three dark horses, even a black one disappear in white fog and yet a white horse shows up. As I walked closer I began to see a black figure emmerge almost three horse lengths in front of Stella. It was DJ with Taffy and Punkin, as usual, on his tail.
In that moment the seal was bonded, my heart to Stella. She had helped me find the herd. She made me realize how we all from the day of our birth to the day of our death have a purpose to fulfill on this earth. Stella is an older horse, maybe twenty-eight years old. She has probably seen her better days of riding and to try to work her too hard would be cruel. She has earned a rest but that doesn't mean she has out-lived her purposefulness. The fact is we never know our purpose until the moment God reveals it to us. Today, Stella's purpose was to stand out in the crowd! That is God's ultimate purpose for all of us-- to stand out in the crowd, to shine his light through us into a dark world.
I directed my car's headlights toward the gate, hoping to see them wandering up but they were no where to be found. I called out, I whistled, I shook grain, and made a lot of noise as I worked. There was still no sign of the horses as I filled the last bucket. I decided to walk up the hill and do a personal check of the water tank to confirm yesterday's report, "There was plenty of water, mom." Translated, "No, I didn't fill the tank like you asked." From the vantage point of the tank at the top of the hill, I hoped to see the horses. I climbed. (Note to sister: 'Yes, stairs would be awesome.')
From the vantage point of the top of the hill I still saw no horses. Actually, I didn't see much pasture either, only fog stretching across the land for miles with little tops of trees poking out. I walked to the hot fence to make sure it was still up and running. Still calling, still whistling, and still shaking the portion of grain I retained for noise-making purposes, I thought I caught sight of a figure in the lower pasture. I walked toward it and began making out its shape. It was large and dark and a hay bale. The thought of having to make that dreaded phone call, "The horses are gone," beckoned.
I followed the fence to ensure there were no breaks in the line when a patch of the fog seemed to be lighter than the rest. Interesting how the fog began to take shape, the shape of a short white horse named Stella. "Oh Stella, It's you!" I called out. "Bless your heart." She looked up at me as Stella does. Curious from a safe distance and always keeping her eyes on me.
Stella is not adventureous, she doesn't put her curiousity into action. Curiousity is a wonder, where adventure is the experience of that wonder. It is putting aside our fears, even temporarily, and crossing over a point of no return without knowing the outcome.
Stella always calculates her safety. She watches me from the back of the herd. But she is always watching me, even more than the others. I can see in her eyes she longs to come to me but the fear of the unknown outcome keeps her from approaching, from leaving the safe protection of her herd to check me out. Thus, she misses out on the rewards I have to offer her, a scratch on her chin or a rub down her neck.
To really experience all the rewards God has to offer us we have to be willing to set aside our fear. I am not talking about wreckless abandonment of all caution and care but just a willingness to step into your dream and live it. I have to thank all of the people who encouraged me to step into my dream. Especially my sister, Carol, and her husband, Mike, and the Dailey's, who encouraged me to step out and take the chance and who promised to be there to help me if or rather when things went wrong. Most of all they were excited for me. I have to thank God for my neighbor who has been so willing to help us out whenever we hit a snag. We really had no clue what we were doing and what an adventure we are on.
Sometimes it's like this morning, stepping out into the dark, misty fog not sure what is out there. One step at a time, I continued to call to Stella hoping to find her herdmates were with her. Certainly they hadn't wandered off and left her. As I walked toward her I thought I saw movement but whatever was out there was blending in with the fog. You've seen fog. It's white isn't it? Maybe light shades of gray. How do three dark horses, even a black one disappear in white fog and yet a white horse shows up. As I walked closer I began to see a black figure emmerge almost three horse lengths in front of Stella. It was DJ with Taffy and Punkin, as usual, on his tail.
In that moment the seal was bonded, my heart to Stella. She had helped me find the herd. She made me realize how we all from the day of our birth to the day of our death have a purpose to fulfill on this earth. Stella is an older horse, maybe twenty-eight years old. She has probably seen her better days of riding and to try to work her too hard would be cruel. She has earned a rest but that doesn't mean she has out-lived her purposefulness. The fact is we never know our purpose until the moment God reveals it to us. Today, Stella's purpose was to stand out in the crowd! That is God's ultimate purpose for all of us-- to stand out in the crowd, to shine his light through us into a dark world.
Wednesday, December 28, 2005
40/60 God Meter
"It used to be 100% to 0%. I liked God 100% and I didn't like God 0%. But now it is 40% to 60%. The 60% dislike God is all 60% because he let my dad die. The 40% like God is 10% because He let me see him twice, once from the airplane and the time when He looked like a golden camel, 10% because He made Christmas, 10% because He is the source of peace, and 10% because He let people invent TV and Videogames. " CJAB
The Intelligence of Horses
I knew they were very smart creatures, I am surprised horses didn't get their own day in the creation story. At least they could have gotten a mention in Job 12, "Ask the horses and they will teach you!" I suppose the fact that horses were mentioned 175 times in scripture compared to a mere 40 times that dogs were mentioned does attest to their intelligence. It may explain why it took almost a full two weeks of pushing the dog in and out through the doggy door for him to realize he could do it himself. Although if standing at the doggy door whining until someone came to push you through works, why waste the energy attempting it yourself.
Horses however don't need as much time to figure things out. I did expect them to take few days, however, to figure out our new feeding routine. After all, they had been loaded into a trailer for the first time in ten years, unloaded into a new field almost fifty miles away, and had no clue who I was. The first morning after their arrival I had to convince them to come up near the gate for their morning feeding of grain. They stood off mid-field scoping me out but were more interested in visiting across the fence with the neighbor's horses.
I shook grain, whistled, called them by name. Finally, I walked half way down into the field. Again I shook grain, whistled, called them by name. Not convinced the leader, a large black gelding, decided to venture a few steps toward me but unimpressed returned to his neighborly chat. I encouraged them, "Come on, I don't have all day. I have to go to work." I really didn't want to leave the grain at the gate in hopes they would stumble upon it sometime during the day.
Tick... tick...tick. I was going to be late for work if I didn't convince them to come up and eat. I wanted them to find the grain close to where we would be feeding and not have to take it to them. The plan was to load the grain up in the trunk of the car and feed the horses each morning as we waited near the gate for the bus and then off to work. Surely, by the end of the week they would be used to me feeding in the morning and come when I called. Horses are smart that way.
I figured, not like the dog, the horses would figure it out by the end of the week and when school resumes after the holidays we'd have a quick routine down. The next day I decided to leave early so I could round them up and still be on time for work. I loaded up the trunk full of their grain and shiney new buckets and headed down the hill to the front gate.
It was still a little dark. As I turned the corner, a large figure down by the gate startled me. My headlights eventually illuminated the scene and huddled at the gate four very large equine figures came into view. You don't need to tell horses twice. No pushing them up to their grain buckets for almost two weeks until they catch on.
I'm sure they hadn't waited there for me all night. They hadn't been there when we stopped at the gate last night on the way in from town. Maybe one of them looked at their watch this morning and said, "Hay... it's six o'clock we better head to the gate. She'll be here soon." However they did it, they were there hoping things would happen the same way it happened the morning before and there I was! I guess that explains why horses are mentioned in scripture 135 more times than dogs. They hope, they act on their hopes, they figure things out.
Horses however don't need as much time to figure things out. I did expect them to take few days, however, to figure out our new feeding routine. After all, they had been loaded into a trailer for the first time in ten years, unloaded into a new field almost fifty miles away, and had no clue who I was. The first morning after their arrival I had to convince them to come up near the gate for their morning feeding of grain. They stood off mid-field scoping me out but were more interested in visiting across the fence with the neighbor's horses.
I shook grain, whistled, called them by name. Finally, I walked half way down into the field. Again I shook grain, whistled, called them by name. Not convinced the leader, a large black gelding, decided to venture a few steps toward me but unimpressed returned to his neighborly chat. I encouraged them, "Come on, I don't have all day. I have to go to work." I really didn't want to leave the grain at the gate in hopes they would stumble upon it sometime during the day.
Tick... tick...tick. I was going to be late for work if I didn't convince them to come up and eat. I wanted them to find the grain close to where we would be feeding and not have to take it to them. The plan was to load the grain up in the trunk of the car and feed the horses each morning as we waited near the gate for the bus and then off to work. Surely, by the end of the week they would be used to me feeding in the morning and come when I called. Horses are smart that way.
I figured, not like the dog, the horses would figure it out by the end of the week and when school resumes after the holidays we'd have a quick routine down. The next day I decided to leave early so I could round them up and still be on time for work. I loaded up the trunk full of their grain and shiney new buckets and headed down the hill to the front gate.
It was still a little dark. As I turned the corner, a large figure down by the gate startled me. My headlights eventually illuminated the scene and huddled at the gate four very large equine figures came into view. You don't need to tell horses twice. No pushing them up to their grain buckets for almost two weeks until they catch on.
I'm sure they hadn't waited there for me all night. They hadn't been there when we stopped at the gate last night on the way in from town. Maybe one of them looked at their watch this morning and said, "Hay... it's six o'clock we better head to the gate. She'll be here soon." However they did it, they were there hoping things would happen the same way it happened the morning before and there I was! I guess that explains why horses are mentioned in scripture 135 more times than dogs. They hope, they act on their hopes, they figure things out.
Marshmellows
"A boy can have a pink marshmellow, as long as he gets a white marshmellow to go with it." CJAB
Tuesday, December 27, 2005
The Blog
When I was a young girl, I loved taking my papers to my mom to read. "LOOK!" I would shout, "I finished my book." Whether it was my book about a carrot that grew up to fear being eaten or a poem about a cloud floating by unnoticed by a soul, my mother's reaction was the same, "That's nice." As I grew up I sought out other audiences such as poetry contests or the dreaded scholarship award committees. I needed feedback! I guess that is why I loved college. Professors actually take the time to read your work and assess it on a scale of A to F. It's a little more stressful than mom's reaction but yet an A can be very satisfying.
I have also tried desperately to have my work published. I admit my first time published in the buy-your-own book club I was thrilled. Although slightly dismayed when they left a line out of my poem and I had no recourse. It took me awhile but when all my poems, my daughters poems, and her boyfriend's poems were 'Honorable Mentions' and qualified for publishing they couldn't fool me anymore. I decided to seek higher rewards. Pay for publication.
After a multitude of rejections, I actually got an article published. I was in writer's heaven. Finally a published clip, this was my big break. I made about fifty copies of that article and sent them with query letters to every publisher in the Writer's Market. They obviously didn't get it. I was a published writer! I waited for the offers to come streaming in. Not one. Well, my mom was excited, "That is so nice."
I am a writer. I must write to feel. Emotions flow from the brain to the fingers where they can be edited and rearranged and sorted before being delivered to an unsuspecting audience, even if by mouth. I have tried to skip the fingers and go right to the mouth and that always seems to cause more life complications than you can fathom.
Have you ever been scolded because your posts are too long? Has even your dad banned you from his email inbox because you are long-winded? Did your mom mark your eddress as SPAM? She didn't even know how to mark an email spam but found out just for you. If this has happened to you then may I suggest blogging.
My friend sent me a link to her blog. I had never heard of such a thing. Finally, unlimited publishing without rejection letters. An unlimited number of potential readers and you own it, you make it as long as you feel! My sister will be thrilled. She made the mistake of establishing a pattern of responding to my lengthy emails. In doing so, my sister took the place of my mom, my professors, and potential editors as the first responder in my desperate need for writer's feedback. My blog is her hope to be relieved of all but the unpublishable parts of my written emotional rollercoaster, my life.
What I really like about the blog is that I can reread the post as many times as I need to and tweak it up indefinitely. Not like a post to a list or an email once you hit send, you can go back to your blog and play with the words and update that post to perfection. The blog is much safer than the mouth because words which cross your lips can not be taken back. Easily we become 'trapped by what we have said, ensnared by our mouths (Proverbs 6:2)." Even an emailed message can not be taken back once the send button is pushed. A blog on the other hand, a blog can be edited. God bless the blog!
I have also tried desperately to have my work published. I admit my first time published in the buy-your-own book club I was thrilled. Although slightly dismayed when they left a line out of my poem and I had no recourse. It took me awhile but when all my poems, my daughters poems, and her boyfriend's poems were 'Honorable Mentions' and qualified for publishing they couldn't fool me anymore. I decided to seek higher rewards. Pay for publication.
After a multitude of rejections, I actually got an article published. I was in writer's heaven. Finally a published clip, this was my big break. I made about fifty copies of that article and sent them with query letters to every publisher in the Writer's Market. They obviously didn't get it. I was a published writer! I waited for the offers to come streaming in. Not one. Well, my mom was excited, "That is so nice."
I am a writer. I must write to feel. Emotions flow from the brain to the fingers where they can be edited and rearranged and sorted before being delivered to an unsuspecting audience, even if by mouth. I have tried to skip the fingers and go right to the mouth and that always seems to cause more life complications than you can fathom.
Have you ever been scolded because your posts are too long? Has even your dad banned you from his email inbox because you are long-winded? Did your mom mark your eddress as SPAM? She didn't even know how to mark an email spam but found out just for you. If this has happened to you then may I suggest blogging.
My friend sent me a link to her blog. I had never heard of such a thing. Finally, unlimited publishing without rejection letters. An unlimited number of potential readers and you own it, you make it as long as you feel! My sister will be thrilled. She made the mistake of establishing a pattern of responding to my lengthy emails. In doing so, my sister took the place of my mom, my professors, and potential editors as the first responder in my desperate need for writer's feedback. My blog is her hope to be relieved of all but the unpublishable parts of my written emotional rollercoaster, my life.
What I really like about the blog is that I can reread the post as many times as I need to and tweak it up indefinitely. Not like a post to a list or an email once you hit send, you can go back to your blog and play with the words and update that post to perfection. The blog is much safer than the mouth because words which cross your lips can not be taken back. Easily we become 'trapped by what we have said, ensnared by our mouths (Proverbs 6:2)." Even an emailed message can not be taken back once the send button is pushed. A blog on the other hand, a blog can be edited. God bless the blog!
Monday, December 26, 2005
Chocolate Therapy
Directions:
Step One: Open the wrapper of your chocolate therapy gift by removing the purple ribbon. Tie the purple ribbon to a knob or post to declare to the world the color of your heart, purple. You've been wounded.
Step Two: Remove the mug and fill with warm but not boiling water. Take care that the water is warm enough to melt chocolate. Not too cold, not too hot, just warm enough to melt hard hearts and soothe the soul.
Step Three: Open the package of chocolate mix and let it dissolve slowly in the warm but not boiling water. Taste. Add more chocolate if necessary. This is a large mug, it may require two, possibly three chocolate packages. Contemplate how sisters know things, like how did she know you needed the extra large mug today for an extra dose of Chocolate therapy to soothe your inner wound.
Step Four: Top the chocolate potion with the right mixture of marshmellows-- two pink ones, two white ones. Ponder the wisdom of your 8 year old son, 'boys can eat a pink marshmellow as long as they eat a white one with it.' Give a child two of your marshmellows: a pink one and a white one.
Step Five: Inhale the aroma of chocolate. Stir as the Marshmellows melt allowing your wounded heart to melt into a gooey lump.
Step Six: Continue breathing deeply as you sip the chocolate mixture allowing God to heal and reshape your heart.
AAAAHHHHHH! All better now.
Now call your sister or a dear friend and share the healing story of your heart.
Step One: Open the wrapper of your chocolate therapy gift by removing the purple ribbon. Tie the purple ribbon to a knob or post to declare to the world the color of your heart, purple. You've been wounded.
Step Two: Remove the mug and fill with warm but not boiling water. Take care that the water is warm enough to melt chocolate. Not too cold, not too hot, just warm enough to melt hard hearts and soothe the soul.
Step Three: Open the package of chocolate mix and let it dissolve slowly in the warm but not boiling water. Taste. Add more chocolate if necessary. This is a large mug, it may require two, possibly three chocolate packages. Contemplate how sisters know things, like how did she know you needed the extra large mug today for an extra dose of Chocolate therapy to soothe your inner wound.
Step Four: Top the chocolate potion with the right mixture of marshmellows-- two pink ones, two white ones. Ponder the wisdom of your 8 year old son, 'boys can eat a pink marshmellow as long as they eat a white one with it.' Give a child two of your marshmellows: a pink one and a white one.
Step Five: Inhale the aroma of chocolate. Stir as the Marshmellows melt allowing your wounded heart to melt into a gooey lump.
Step Six: Continue breathing deeply as you sip the chocolate mixture allowing God to heal and reshape your heart.
AAAAHHHHHH! All better now.
Now call your sister or a dear friend and share the healing story of your heart.
The Gift
"It wasn't wrapped up as a traditional present would be but often the best gifts aren't. It's hard to wrap a ribbon around a beautiful sunset, the glistening snow over a frozen pond, or the nicker of horses glad to meet you at the gate. It's hard to wrap a ribbon around the knowledge of salvation which God prepared in the sight of all people. Yet wrapped up in swaddling clothes, the baby lie in a manger to save us from the sin of the world. What a delightful gift!" (excerpted from our December 2005 Christmas Letter. The first Christmas Letter sent out from R4C Ranch.)
We had a great Christmas. The preparations were surprisingly unstressed. I stuck to my gift giving plan and had no regrets. The kids and I were lavished with gifts. Some years are like that and for singles, many aren't. It was fun watching my older kids who for the first time were really able to go out and make Christmas lists and understand the blessings of giving. And because Christmas was on Sunday this year, it was so nice to be able to go to church twice this weekend and for the first time going to church on Christmas morning.
I so enjoyed the gifts I gave this year. To make gift-giving more enjoyable our family does a two-generational gift drawing. My parents, grandparent(s), and siblings all draw a name of someone to buy a gift for and our children all draw names to buy for each other. They started this on their own when we excluded them from our drawing but many of them were beginning to start their own families. We started buying for their children instead of them and they started up their own exchange. It is fun to see how it brings them closer together as cousins and how they deal with the technical issues of the Christmas gift giving list; like do you include boyfriends, girlfriends, ex's, and just where do you draw the line.
What used to be a simple exchange of gifts between siblings and their spouses is now quite an interesting mix of blurred family lines between ex's that are still considered sisters and the family of widows and the cousins' cousins. It all seems very complicated but is simplified by the scripture, "What you bind on earth will be bound in heaven and what is loosed on earth will be loosed in heaven." I am so glad we have learned how precious relationships are that once bound we pray God will keep them together.
My sister and I, having endured the toughest years of marriage and God so blessed us to overcome and enjoy a time with our husbands when the pain of past hurts was truly forgiven and resolved, inhabit a family that has been tormented by so many divorces it is very heartbreaking. But our little motto is this: When our brothers married their wives, we took them into our families as sisters. When they divorced, that is their choice but we didn't stop loving our brothers or our new sisters. I think that is what sisters love is all about... it is forever. A sister's love is bound on earth, which God protects and does not let the deceiver destroy, and it will be bound in heaven, forever.
Another tradition in our family, even as it grows and changes, expands and collaspes somewhat, is that we hang stockings for each person on Christmas Day. It is a secret Santa sort of enfilling and very fun. It is meant for all to participate in giving gifts without being stressful. Like I tell the young teens who are just starting to earn their own money along with the ability to participate in the actual giving and yet limited on funds, a bag of candy only costs $3 and can be split into at least 30 stockings. The most exciting part of the stocking stuffer idea is that if you have found the perfect gift for someone but didn't draw their name, you can still give it to them by secretly putting it in their stocking. It relieves the stress of thinking you have to buy something for everyone because you really want to give this one perfect gift but can't afford something nice for everyone.
Every once in a while a really special gift shows up in one of the stockings and everyone rejoices together in it. One year my husband had found a special bracelet for my sister. It had cost over a hundred dollars but he hadn't drawn her name. He snuck it in her stocking when everyone else got a candy bar so we could afford the bracelet. He was so excited about giving it to her. It was fun for everyone to see her open it. This year, I think the hit was the reaction when my nephew pulled out his Bodacious DVD. It wasn't a hundred dollar gift but it was that gift that just personally connected with his heart.
Do you remember the most perfect gift you received? Take a moment and think about that gift. Why was it so perfect? Did you realize the person had taken time to think about you and know your heart? Opening that gift you realized that it wasn't something they just picked up off the rack at the last moment but when they saw it they said, "That is so perfect for her." I know not all our gifts are like that... sometimes you just have "gift-giving block" and as hard as you try you can't get a great idea for that person. But God never has gift-giving block. He always knows the perfect gifts for us and is so excited about giving them to us.
Do you remember the most perfect gift you have given to someone? Take a moment and remember it. Why was it so perfect? Again it probably was perfect because it connected you to that person's heart. I think this year the most perfect gift I gave didn't even cost a penny. It was an old hat that actually had already belonged to my nephew. Thanksgiving he was riding with us and in the middle of joking around I rolled down his window, his hat blew off and out of the car. We were on the interstate so I could not stop and get it. The following weekend we were on that same interestate and spotted the hat. We stopped to pick it up and wrapped it up for him for Christmas. He complained for several weeks about me losing his hat and the look on his face and his mother's when he opened that hat for Christmas was priceless. He said, "My hat, I love this hat!"
Everyday we can unwrap the gifts God has given us. At the ranch each new day is exciting and each new season a surprising revelation of God's creation. God's word is our hope, 'where morning dawns and evening fades you call forth songs of joy (psalm 65:).' No matter what the circumstances of our days, each morning and each evening God calls forth songs of joy to fill our hearts. God wraps up each and every day with Joy, unwrap His songs of Joy daily where the morning dawns and the evening fades.
I just want to leave you with two things to ponder today and each day: Ask yourself, "Am I opening up the gifts God has given me today?" And since God's word ensures it is more blessed to give than to receive, ask yourself, "What gifts am I giving to others today?"
We had a great Christmas. The preparations were surprisingly unstressed. I stuck to my gift giving plan and had no regrets. The kids and I were lavished with gifts. Some years are like that and for singles, many aren't. It was fun watching my older kids who for the first time were really able to go out and make Christmas lists and understand the blessings of giving. And because Christmas was on Sunday this year, it was so nice to be able to go to church twice this weekend and for the first time going to church on Christmas morning.
I so enjoyed the gifts I gave this year. To make gift-giving more enjoyable our family does a two-generational gift drawing. My parents, grandparent(s), and siblings all draw a name of someone to buy a gift for and our children all draw names to buy for each other. They started this on their own when we excluded them from our drawing but many of them were beginning to start their own families. We started buying for their children instead of them and they started up their own exchange. It is fun to see how it brings them closer together as cousins and how they deal with the technical issues of the Christmas gift giving list; like do you include boyfriends, girlfriends, ex's, and just where do you draw the line.
What used to be a simple exchange of gifts between siblings and their spouses is now quite an interesting mix of blurred family lines between ex's that are still considered sisters and the family of widows and the cousins' cousins. It all seems very complicated but is simplified by the scripture, "What you bind on earth will be bound in heaven and what is loosed on earth will be loosed in heaven." I am so glad we have learned how precious relationships are that once bound we pray God will keep them together.
My sister and I, having endured the toughest years of marriage and God so blessed us to overcome and enjoy a time with our husbands when the pain of past hurts was truly forgiven and resolved, inhabit a family that has been tormented by so many divorces it is very heartbreaking. But our little motto is this: When our brothers married their wives, we took them into our families as sisters. When they divorced, that is their choice but we didn't stop loving our brothers or our new sisters. I think that is what sisters love is all about... it is forever. A sister's love is bound on earth, which God protects and does not let the deceiver destroy, and it will be bound in heaven, forever.
Another tradition in our family, even as it grows and changes, expands and collaspes somewhat, is that we hang stockings for each person on Christmas Day. It is a secret Santa sort of enfilling and very fun. It is meant for all to participate in giving gifts without being stressful. Like I tell the young teens who are just starting to earn their own money along with the ability to participate in the actual giving and yet limited on funds, a bag of candy only costs $3 and can be split into at least 30 stockings. The most exciting part of the stocking stuffer idea is that if you have found the perfect gift for someone but didn't draw their name, you can still give it to them by secretly putting it in their stocking. It relieves the stress of thinking you have to buy something for everyone because you really want to give this one perfect gift but can't afford something nice for everyone.
Every once in a while a really special gift shows up in one of the stockings and everyone rejoices together in it. One year my husband had found a special bracelet for my sister. It had cost over a hundred dollars but he hadn't drawn her name. He snuck it in her stocking when everyone else got a candy bar so we could afford the bracelet. He was so excited about giving it to her. It was fun for everyone to see her open it. This year, I think the hit was the reaction when my nephew pulled out his Bodacious DVD. It wasn't a hundred dollar gift but it was that gift that just personally connected with his heart.
Do you remember the most perfect gift you received? Take a moment and think about that gift. Why was it so perfect? Did you realize the person had taken time to think about you and know your heart? Opening that gift you realized that it wasn't something they just picked up off the rack at the last moment but when they saw it they said, "That is so perfect for her." I know not all our gifts are like that... sometimes you just have "gift-giving block" and as hard as you try you can't get a great idea for that person. But God never has gift-giving block. He always knows the perfect gifts for us and is so excited about giving them to us.
Do you remember the most perfect gift you have given to someone? Take a moment and remember it. Why was it so perfect? Again it probably was perfect because it connected you to that person's heart. I think this year the most perfect gift I gave didn't even cost a penny. It was an old hat that actually had already belonged to my nephew. Thanksgiving he was riding with us and in the middle of joking around I rolled down his window, his hat blew off and out of the car. We were on the interstate so I could not stop and get it. The following weekend we were on that same interestate and spotted the hat. We stopped to pick it up and wrapped it up for him for Christmas. He complained for several weeks about me losing his hat and the look on his face and his mother's when he opened that hat for Christmas was priceless. He said, "My hat, I love this hat!"
Everyday we can unwrap the gifts God has given us. At the ranch each new day is exciting and each new season a surprising revelation of God's creation. God's word is our hope, 'where morning dawns and evening fades you call forth songs of joy (psalm 65:).' No matter what the circumstances of our days, each morning and each evening God calls forth songs of joy to fill our hearts. God wraps up each and every day with Joy, unwrap His songs of Joy daily where the morning dawns and the evening fades.
I just want to leave you with two things to ponder today and each day: Ask yourself, "Am I opening up the gifts God has given me today?" And since God's word ensures it is more blessed to give than to receive, ask yourself, "What gifts am I giving to others today?"
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