If you read my post from Dec. 19, you might be wondering what happened with Bernadette and John? Suffice it to say, this is a VERY. HAPPY. NEW YEAR for those two. Must watch and believe! BEAUTIFUL!
Friday, December 31, 2010
Saturday, December 25, 2010
Getting closer to Jesus
At our house last year, we had an outpouring of tears and more tears and MORE tears on Christmas morning after our nativity-scene snow globe slipped out of Anna's 4-year-old hands at the breakfast table and broke open.
Trying to find the light in the dark 4-year-old sadness and parental disappointment (after numerous warnings to be so very careful) of this moment, I cleaned up the glitter, water and shards of glass; placed the snow globe (minus the snow and globe) on a top shelf so no one would hurt themselves on the jagged glass that remained and was reaching out of the wooden, music box base; and declared that perhaps in this moment God would like us to be reminded that there is nothing that separates us from his love and from the gift of his son, the little baby Jesus lying in the manger.
God was nearer to us then. No more snow or globe in the way. Just the fresh air on baby Jesus, Mary and Joseph.
-- Lillian Craze
Big blessings and a relaxed Christmas day to all! Thank you friends for coming along on the journey again this year. It was a little different, but still spectacular... I'm so glad I committed to it again. -- mEg
Friday, December 24, 2010
Negative thoughts become thankfulness...
Last weekend, we went to my oldest brother's house to celebrate Christmas. It's rare to be together, because my middle brother lives in Alabama and my niece and nephew live in California, but we were all there.
We arrived with smiles and laughs, but the mood changed quickly as my neice and nephew ended up with the stomach bug. My first thought was GREAT now we are going to get it. But we hung out and enjoyed each other as much as we could while worrying about the kids and my brother who I know was worried about his kids. Turns out he was up until 4 a.m.
Meanwhile, Jimmy & I had to sleep on a bed that was very hard and springy (bad for Jimmy's back). I got to listen to a lot of huffing and puffing over this. We tossed and turned all night and were pretty darn cold too, I must say. When we woke up in the morning, my oldest brother cooked breakfast for us all and then we went to his indoor baseball and soccer place. My niece and nephew couldn't come since they were sick and they were looking forward to it the most. Fair right?
We finally got home and about 4 p.m., Michael started getting a fever and coughing a croupy seal cough. It seemed way worse then he had ever had and in our experience it only gets worse overnight, so I took him to the pediatric ER. They gave him a few breathing treatments and a double dose of steriods. Finally (after a movie and a half, commercials included), they were ready to send us home... thankfully.
As we were leaving Michael asked the question, "Do some kids have to stay here?" And it was a learning moment for him because yes they do.
I dropped Michael at home and went to the 24 hr. pharmacy where they had trouble with my insurance card for some reason, but worked it out. While I was sitting there waiting, a lady was trying to pick up medicine for her grandson that was about $300. The same same medicines that I was picking up for my son. The only difference was I had insurance and she didn't. So she couldn't pick it up. It makes my stomach turn thinking about it.
I finally picked up the prescription and headed home. We got the kids to bed at 10 PM and ate our dinner. Before bed while I was saying my prayers, I thought about how selfish I am and how the past two days had taught me SO much!!!
First, I should be thankful that my family was all together at my brother's house and that we were there to support my other brother while his kids were sick... it is no fun to do that all alone. Second, as I lay down to sleep, I thought about how many people would be so thankful to sleep on the hard, springy mattress I complained about. Third, I had flannel sheets and a huge comforter to try and keep me warm, some people are out on the streets huddled in a ball trying to stay warm. Fourth, I am so greatful that Michael was able to go home and even be thankful himself that he was going home. I have several friends who spend too much time in the hospital. Lastly, after talking to that grandma at the pharmacy, I am so thankful to have insurance and to be able to bring home medicine that my child needs to help him breath better.
It was a long two days but two days that Jesus was by my side teaching all along the way. About others and what they don't have and how thankful I should be to have all that I have.
My family is everything and I am so greatful for them, our house, our health and healthcare. How selfish I am....but how grateful I have learned a lesson in it all.
God bless and Merry Christmas!
Jenny Berardinelli
We arrived with smiles and laughs, but the mood changed quickly as my neice and nephew ended up with the stomach bug. My first thought was GREAT now we are going to get it. But we hung out and enjoyed each other as much as we could while worrying about the kids and my brother who I know was worried about his kids. Turns out he was up until 4 a.m.
Meanwhile, Jimmy & I had to sleep on a bed that was very hard and springy (bad for Jimmy's back). I got to listen to a lot of huffing and puffing over this. We tossed and turned all night and were pretty darn cold too, I must say. When we woke up in the morning, my oldest brother cooked breakfast for us all and then we went to his indoor baseball and soccer place. My niece and nephew couldn't come since they were sick and they were looking forward to it the most. Fair right?
We finally got home and about 4 p.m., Michael started getting a fever and coughing a croupy seal cough. It seemed way worse then he had ever had and in our experience it only gets worse overnight, so I took him to the pediatric ER. They gave him a few breathing treatments and a double dose of steriods. Finally (after a movie and a half, commercials included), they were ready to send us home... thankfully.
As we were leaving Michael asked the question, "Do some kids have to stay here?" And it was a learning moment for him because yes they do.
I dropped Michael at home and went to the 24 hr. pharmacy where they had trouble with my insurance card for some reason, but worked it out. While I was sitting there waiting, a lady was trying to pick up medicine for her grandson that was about $300. The same same medicines that I was picking up for my son. The only difference was I had insurance and she didn't. So she couldn't pick it up. It makes my stomach turn thinking about it.
I finally picked up the prescription and headed home. We got the kids to bed at 10 PM and ate our dinner. Before bed while I was saying my prayers, I thought about how selfish I am and how the past two days had taught me SO much!!!
First, I should be thankful that my family was all together at my brother's house and that we were there to support my other brother while his kids were sick... it is no fun to do that all alone. Second, as I lay down to sleep, I thought about how many people would be so thankful to sleep on the hard, springy mattress I complained about. Third, I had flannel sheets and a huge comforter to try and keep me warm, some people are out on the streets huddled in a ball trying to stay warm. Fourth, I am so greatful that Michael was able to go home and even be thankful himself that he was going home. I have several friends who spend too much time in the hospital. Lastly, after talking to that grandma at the pharmacy, I am so thankful to have insurance and to be able to bring home medicine that my child needs to help him breath better.
It was a long two days but two days that Jesus was by my side teaching all along the way. About others and what they don't have and how thankful I should be to have all that I have.
My family is everything and I am so greatful for them, our house, our health and healthcare. How selfish I am....but how grateful I have learned a lesson in it all.
God bless and Merry Christmas!
Jenny Berardinelli
Thursday, December 23, 2010
While You Were Sleeping
We seem to be listening to this song over and over again this Christmas season. My hope is that we as individuals, as a family, as a community, as a nation don't become known as the place with no room. May we keep Him as the focus in all that we do, not just during Advent & Christmas, but always.
-- Anne Mistretta
While You Were Sleeping
Oh little town of Bethlehem
Looks like another silent night
Above your deep and dreamless sleep
A giant star lights up the sky
And while you're lying in the dark
There shines an everlasting light
For the King has left His throne
And is sleeping in a manger tonight, tonight
Oh Bethlehem, what you have missed while you were sleeping
For God became a man
And stepped into your world today
Oh Bethlehem, you will go down in history
As a city with no room for its King
While you were sleeping
While you were sleeping
Oh little town of Jerusalem
Looks like another silent night
The Father gave His only Son
The Way, the Truth, the Life had come
But there was no room for Him in the world He came to save
Jerusalem, what you have missed while you were sleeping
The Savior of the world is dying on your cross today
Jerusalem, you will go down in history
As a city with no room for its King
While you were sleeping
While you were sleeping
United States of America
Looks like another silent night
As we're sung to sleep by philosophies
That save the trees and kill the children
And while we're lying in the dark
There's a shout heard 'cross the eastern sky
For the Bridegroom has returned
And has carried His bride away in the night
America, what will we miss while we are sleeping
Will Jesus come again
And leave us slumbering where we lay
America, will we go down in history
As a nation with no room for its King
Will we be sleeping
Will we be sleeping
United States of America
Looks like another silent night
-- Anne Mistretta
While You Were Sleeping
Oh little town of Bethlehem
Looks like another silent night
Above your deep and dreamless sleep
A giant star lights up the sky
And while you're lying in the dark
There shines an everlasting light
For the King has left His throne
And is sleeping in a manger tonight, tonight
Oh Bethlehem, what you have missed while you were sleeping
For God became a man
And stepped into your world today
Oh Bethlehem, you will go down in history
As a city with no room for its King
While you were sleeping
While you were sleeping
Oh little town of Jerusalem
Looks like another silent night
The Father gave His only Son
The Way, the Truth, the Life had come
But there was no room for Him in the world He came to save
Jerusalem, what you have missed while you were sleeping
The Savior of the world is dying on your cross today
Jerusalem, you will go down in history
As a city with no room for its King
While you were sleeping
While you were sleeping
United States of America
Looks like another silent night
As we're sung to sleep by philosophies
That save the trees and kill the children
And while we're lying in the dark
There's a shout heard 'cross the eastern sky
For the Bridegroom has returned
And has carried His bride away in the night
America, what will we miss while we are sleeping
Will Jesus come again
And leave us slumbering where we lay
America, will we go down in history
As a nation with no room for its King
Will we be sleeping
Will we be sleeping
United States of America
Looks like another silent night
Wednesday, December 22, 2010
Good, old-fashioned giving
Advent should be a Call to Action. Praying for people having troubles is nice, actually DOING something can change their lives. And yours.
-- Tony Ferrante
Tony also wanted to share this sweet story of good, old-fashioned giving. A warning to grab yer hankie before reading....
"Pa never had much compassion for the lazy or those who squandered their means and then never had enough for the necessities. But for those who were genuinely in need, his heart was as big as all outdoors. It was from him that I learned the greatest joy in life comes from giving, not from receiving.
It was Christmas Eve 1881. I was fifteen years old and feeling like the world had caved in on me because there just hadn't been enough money to buy me the rifle that I'd wanted for Christmas. We did the chores early that night for some reason. I just figured Pa wanted a little extra time so we could read in the Bible.
After supper was over I took my boots off and stretched out in front of the fireplace and waited for Pa to get down the old Bible. I was still feeling sorry for myself and, to be honest, I wasn't in much of a mood to read scriptures. But Pa didn't get the Bible, instead he bundled up again and went outside. I couldn't figure it out because we had already done all the chores. I didn't worry about it long though, I was too busy wallowing in self-pity.
Soon Pa came back in. It was a cold clear night out and there was ice in his beard. "Come on, Matt," he said. "Bundle up good, it's cold out tonight." I was really upset then. Not only wasn't I getting the rifle for Christmas, now Pa was dragging me out in the cold, and for no earthly reason that I could see. We'd already done all the chores, and I couldn't think of anything else that needed doing, especially not on a night like this. But I knew Pa was not very patient at one dragging one's feet when he'd told them to do something, so I got up and put my boots back on and got my cap, coat, and mittens. Ma gave me a mysterious smile as I opened the door to leave the house. Something was up, but I didn't know what.
Outside, I became even more dismayed. There in front of the house was the work team, already hitched to the big sled. Whatever it was we were going to do wasn't going to be a short, quick, little job. I could tell. We never hitched up this sled unless we were going to haul a big load. Pa was already up on the seat, reins in hand. I reluctantly climbed up beside him. The cold was already biting at me. I wasn't happy. When I was on, Pa pulled the sled around the house and stopped in front of the woodshed. He got off and I followed. "I think we'll put on the high sideboards," he said. "Here, help me." The high sideboards! It had been a bigger job than I wanted to do with just the low sideboards on, but whatever it was we were
going to do would be a lot bigger with the high side boards on.
After we had exchanged the sideboards, Pa went into the woodshed and came out with an armload of wood - the wood I'd spent all summer hauling down from the mountain, and then all fall sawing into blocks and splitting. What was he doing? Finally I said something. "Pa," I asked, "what are you doing?"
"You been by the Widow Jensen's lately?" he asked. The Widow Jensen lived about two miles down the road. Her husband had died a year or so before and left her with three children, the oldest being eight. Sure, I'd been by, but so what?
Yeah," I said, "Why?"
"I rode by just today," Pa said. "Little Jakey was out digging around in the woodpile trying to find a few chips. They're out of wood, Matt." That was all he said and then he turned and went back into the woodshed for another armload of wood. I followed him. We loaded the sled so high that I began to wonder if the horses would be able to pull it. Finally, Pa called a halt to our loading, then we went to the smoke house and Pa took down a big ham and a side of bacon. He handed them to me and told me to put them in the sled and wait. When he returned he was carrying a sack of flour over his right shoulder and a smaller sack of something in his left hand. "What's in the little sack?" I asked. Shoes, they're out of shoes. Little Jakey just had gunny sacks wrapped around his feet when he was out in the woodpile this morning. I got the children a little candy too. It just wouldn't be Christmas without a little candy."
We rode the two miles to Widow Jensen's pretty much in silence. I tried to think through what Pa was doing. We didn't have much by worldly standards. Of course, we did have a big woodpile, though most of what was left now was still in the form of logs that I would have to saw into blocks and split before we could use it. We also had meat and flour, so we could spare that, but I knew we didn't have any money, so why was Pa buying them shoes and candy? Really, why was he doing any of this? Widow Jensen had closer neighbors than us; it shouldn't have been our concern.
We came in from the blind side of the Jensen house and unloaded the wood as quietly as possible, then we took the meat and flour and shoes to the door. We knocked. The door opened a crack and a timid voice said, "Who is it?"
"Lucas Miles, Ma'am, and my son, Matt, could we come in for a bit?"
Widow Jensen opened the door and let us in. She had a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. The children were wrapped in another and were sitting in front of the fireplace by a very small fire that hardly gave off any heat at all. Widow Jensen fumbled with a match and finally lit the lamp.
"We brought you a few things, Ma'am," Pa said and set down the sack of flour. I put the meat on the table. Then Pa handed her the sack that had the shoes in it. She opened it hesitantly and took the shoes out one pair at a time. There was a pair for her and one for each of the children--sturdy shoes, the best, shoes that would last. I watched her carefully. She bit her lower lip to keep it from trembling and then tears filled her eyes and started running down her cheeks. She looked up at Pa like she wanted to say something, but it wouldn't come out.
"We brought a load of wood too, Ma'am," Pa said. He turned to me and said, "Matt, go bring in enough to last awhile. Let's get that fire up to size and heat this place up." I wasn't the same person when I went back out to bring in the wood. I had a big lump in my throat and as much as I hate to admit it, there were tears in my eyes too. In my mind I kept seeing those three kids huddled around the fireplace and their mother standing there with tears running down her cheeks with so much gratitude in her heart that she couldn't speak.
My heart swelled within me and a joy that I'd never known before, filled my soul. I had given at Christmas many times before, but never when it had made so much difference. I could see we were literally saving the lives of these people.
I soon had the fire blazing and everyone's spirits soared. The kids started giggling when Pa handed them each a piece of candy and Widow Jensen looked on with a smile that probably hadn't crossed her face for a long time. She finally turned to us. "God bless you," she said. "I know the Lord has sent you. The children and I have been praying that he would send one of his angels to spare us."
In spite of myself, the lump returned to my throat and the tears welled up in my eyes again. I'd never thought of Pa in those exact terms before, but after Widow Jensen mentioned it I could see that it was probably true. I was sure that a better man than Pa had never walked the earth. I started remembering all the times he had gone out of his way for Ma and me, and many others. The list seemed endless as I thought on it.
Pa insisted that everyone try on the shoes before we left. I was amazed when they all fit and I wondered how he had known what sizes to get. Then I guessed that if he was on an errand for the Lord that the Lord would make sure he got the right sizes.
Tears were running down Widow Jensen's face again when we stood up to leave. Pa took each of the kids in his big arms and gave them a hug. They clung to him and didn't want us to go. I could see that they missed their Pa, and I was glad that I still had mine.
At the door Pa turned to Widow Jensen and said, "The Mrs. wanted me to invite you and the children over for Christmas dinner tomorrow. The turkey will be more than the three of us can eat, and a man can get cantankerous if he has to eat turkey for too many meals. We'll be by to get you about eleven. It'll be nice to have some little ones around again. Matt, here, hasn't been little for quite a spell." I was the youngest. My two brothers and two sisters had all married and had moved away.
Widow Jensen nodded and said, Thank you, Brother Miles. I don't have to say, May the Lord bless you, I know for certain that He will."
Out on the sled I felt a warmth that came from deep within and I didn't even notice the cold. When we had gone a ways, Pa turned to me and said, "Matt, I want you to know something. Your ma and me have been tucking a little money away here and there all year so we could buy that rifle for you, but we didn't have quite enough. Then yesterday a man who owed me a little money from years back came by to make things square. Your ma and me were real excited, thinking that now we could get you that rifle, and I started into town this morning to do just that, but on the way I saw little Jakey out scratching in the woodpile with his feet wrapped in those gunny sacks and I knew what I had to do. Son, I spent the money for shoes and a little candy for those children. I hope you understand."
I understood, and my eyes became wet with tears again. I understood very well, and I was so glad Pa had done it. Now the rifle seemed very low on my list of priorities. Pa had given me a lot more. He had given me the look on Widow Jensen's face and the radiant smiles of her three children.
For the rest of my life, whenever I saw any of the Jensens, or split a block of wood, I remembered, and remembering brought back that same joy I felt riding home beside Pa that night. Pa had given me much more."
--------------------
-- Tony Ferrante
Tony also wanted to share this sweet story of good, old-fashioned giving. A warning to grab yer hankie before reading....
"Pa never had much compassion for the lazy or those who squandered their means and then never had enough for the necessities. But for those who were genuinely in need, his heart was as big as all outdoors. It was from him that I learned the greatest joy in life comes from giving, not from receiving.
It was Christmas Eve 1881. I was fifteen years old and feeling like the world had caved in on me because there just hadn't been enough money to buy me the rifle that I'd wanted for Christmas. We did the chores early that night for some reason. I just figured Pa wanted a little extra time so we could read in the Bible.
After supper was over I took my boots off and stretched out in front of the fireplace and waited for Pa to get down the old Bible. I was still feeling sorry for myself and, to be honest, I wasn't in much of a mood to read scriptures. But Pa didn't get the Bible, instead he bundled up again and went outside. I couldn't figure it out because we had already done all the chores. I didn't worry about it long though, I was too busy wallowing in self-pity.
Soon Pa came back in. It was a cold clear night out and there was ice in his beard. "Come on, Matt," he said. "Bundle up good, it's cold out tonight." I was really upset then. Not only wasn't I getting the rifle for Christmas, now Pa was dragging me out in the cold, and for no earthly reason that I could see. We'd already done all the chores, and I couldn't think of anything else that needed doing, especially not on a night like this. But I knew Pa was not very patient at one dragging one's feet when he'd told them to do something, so I got up and put my boots back on and got my cap, coat, and mittens. Ma gave me a mysterious smile as I opened the door to leave the house. Something was up, but I didn't know what.
Outside, I became even more dismayed. There in front of the house was the work team, already hitched to the big sled. Whatever it was we were going to do wasn't going to be a short, quick, little job. I could tell. We never hitched up this sled unless we were going to haul a big load. Pa was already up on the seat, reins in hand. I reluctantly climbed up beside him. The cold was already biting at me. I wasn't happy. When I was on, Pa pulled the sled around the house and stopped in front of the woodshed. He got off and I followed. "I think we'll put on the high sideboards," he said. "Here, help me." The high sideboards! It had been a bigger job than I wanted to do with just the low sideboards on, but whatever it was we were
going to do would be a lot bigger with the high side boards on.
After we had exchanged the sideboards, Pa went into the woodshed and came out with an armload of wood - the wood I'd spent all summer hauling down from the mountain, and then all fall sawing into blocks and splitting. What was he doing? Finally I said something. "Pa," I asked, "what are you doing?"
"You been by the Widow Jensen's lately?" he asked. The Widow Jensen lived about two miles down the road. Her husband had died a year or so before and left her with three children, the oldest being eight. Sure, I'd been by, but so what?
Yeah," I said, "Why?"
"I rode by just today," Pa said. "Little Jakey was out digging around in the woodpile trying to find a few chips. They're out of wood, Matt." That was all he said and then he turned and went back into the woodshed for another armload of wood. I followed him. We loaded the sled so high that I began to wonder if the horses would be able to pull it. Finally, Pa called a halt to our loading, then we went to the smoke house and Pa took down a big ham and a side of bacon. He handed them to me and told me to put them in the sled and wait. When he returned he was carrying a sack of flour over his right shoulder and a smaller sack of something in his left hand. "What's in the little sack?" I asked. Shoes, they're out of shoes. Little Jakey just had gunny sacks wrapped around his feet when he was out in the woodpile this morning. I got the children a little candy too. It just wouldn't be Christmas without a little candy."
We rode the two miles to Widow Jensen's pretty much in silence. I tried to think through what Pa was doing. We didn't have much by worldly standards. Of course, we did have a big woodpile, though most of what was left now was still in the form of logs that I would have to saw into blocks and split before we could use it. We also had meat and flour, so we could spare that, but I knew we didn't have any money, so why was Pa buying them shoes and candy? Really, why was he doing any of this? Widow Jensen had closer neighbors than us; it shouldn't have been our concern.
We came in from the blind side of the Jensen house and unloaded the wood as quietly as possible, then we took the meat and flour and shoes to the door. We knocked. The door opened a crack and a timid voice said, "Who is it?"
"Lucas Miles, Ma'am, and my son, Matt, could we come in for a bit?"
Widow Jensen opened the door and let us in. She had a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. The children were wrapped in another and were sitting in front of the fireplace by a very small fire that hardly gave off any heat at all. Widow Jensen fumbled with a match and finally lit the lamp.
"We brought you a few things, Ma'am," Pa said and set down the sack of flour. I put the meat on the table. Then Pa handed her the sack that had the shoes in it. She opened it hesitantly and took the shoes out one pair at a time. There was a pair for her and one for each of the children--sturdy shoes, the best, shoes that would last. I watched her carefully. She bit her lower lip to keep it from trembling and then tears filled her eyes and started running down her cheeks. She looked up at Pa like she wanted to say something, but it wouldn't come out.
"We brought a load of wood too, Ma'am," Pa said. He turned to me and said, "Matt, go bring in enough to last awhile. Let's get that fire up to size and heat this place up." I wasn't the same person when I went back out to bring in the wood. I had a big lump in my throat and as much as I hate to admit it, there were tears in my eyes too. In my mind I kept seeing those three kids huddled around the fireplace and their mother standing there with tears running down her cheeks with so much gratitude in her heart that she couldn't speak.
My heart swelled within me and a joy that I'd never known before, filled my soul. I had given at Christmas many times before, but never when it had made so much difference. I could see we were literally saving the lives of these people.
I soon had the fire blazing and everyone's spirits soared. The kids started giggling when Pa handed them each a piece of candy and Widow Jensen looked on with a smile that probably hadn't crossed her face for a long time. She finally turned to us. "God bless you," she said. "I know the Lord has sent you. The children and I have been praying that he would send one of his angels to spare us."
In spite of myself, the lump returned to my throat and the tears welled up in my eyes again. I'd never thought of Pa in those exact terms before, but after Widow Jensen mentioned it I could see that it was probably true. I was sure that a better man than Pa had never walked the earth. I started remembering all the times he had gone out of his way for Ma and me, and many others. The list seemed endless as I thought on it.
Pa insisted that everyone try on the shoes before we left. I was amazed when they all fit and I wondered how he had known what sizes to get. Then I guessed that if he was on an errand for the Lord that the Lord would make sure he got the right sizes.
Tears were running down Widow Jensen's face again when we stood up to leave. Pa took each of the kids in his big arms and gave them a hug. They clung to him and didn't want us to go. I could see that they missed their Pa, and I was glad that I still had mine.
At the door Pa turned to Widow Jensen and said, "The Mrs. wanted me to invite you and the children over for Christmas dinner tomorrow. The turkey will be more than the three of us can eat, and a man can get cantankerous if he has to eat turkey for too many meals. We'll be by to get you about eleven. It'll be nice to have some little ones around again. Matt, here, hasn't been little for quite a spell." I was the youngest. My two brothers and two sisters had all married and had moved away.
Widow Jensen nodded and said, Thank you, Brother Miles. I don't have to say, May the Lord bless you, I know for certain that He will."
Out on the sled I felt a warmth that came from deep within and I didn't even notice the cold. When we had gone a ways, Pa turned to me and said, "Matt, I want you to know something. Your ma and me have been tucking a little money away here and there all year so we could buy that rifle for you, but we didn't have quite enough. Then yesterday a man who owed me a little money from years back came by to make things square. Your ma and me were real excited, thinking that now we could get you that rifle, and I started into town this morning to do just that, but on the way I saw little Jakey out scratching in the woodpile with his feet wrapped in those gunny sacks and I knew what I had to do. Son, I spent the money for shoes and a little candy for those children. I hope you understand."
I understood, and my eyes became wet with tears again. I understood very well, and I was so glad Pa had done it. Now the rifle seemed very low on my list of priorities. Pa had given me a lot more. He had given me the look on Widow Jensen's face and the radiant smiles of her three children.
For the rest of my life, whenever I saw any of the Jensens, or split a block of wood, I remembered, and remembering brought back that same joy I felt riding home beside Pa that night. Pa had given me much more."
--------------------
Tuesday, December 21, 2010
A wish for my family
For my family, I pray for love, smiles and the courage to believe in themselves.
-- Amie Meschi
I just love this simple, unselfish wish. Thanks for sharing Amie! Here's to a happy 2011 for the Meschis and all of us!
-- Amie Meschi
I just love this simple, unselfish wish. Thanks for sharing Amie! Here's to a happy 2011 for the Meschis and all of us!
Monday, December 20, 2010
So many possibilities
Going in to the last week of advent and the final days before the 25th, the hustle and bustle and even stress are inevitable. But what if there was a different way of looking at all of that? Emily Buck shares her take and I hope to adopt this in my family and in my heart!
Advent is the beginning of a new church year and holds so many possibilities for us as believers. We can set new goals, celebrate accomplishments, mourn our losses, but mostly feel thankful that we are able to experience another year in God's presence.
So often, I see Advent as the END of another calendar year where I am rushing to finish up tasks, create the perfect few weeks for my family, and not forget Jesus's birth while I do it all. If I can change my perspective and see the season for what it truly is-a beginning with fresh opportunities- life automatically seems less frantic and overwhelming.
I love the Christmas season and really dislike the feeling of panic that "I simply won't get it all done". Simply by changing the deadline, I no longer feel as pressured to be superwoman. I can sit back and enjoy the fire in my fire place, take the time necessary to count my many blessings, and just soak up the joy of this Advent. It doesn't mean that i won't panic that everything won't be perfect, but at least I can revel in the understanding that I have a whole year ahead of me to put it all right!
Advent is the beginning of a new church year and holds so many possibilities for us as believers. We can set new goals, celebrate accomplishments, mourn our losses, but mostly feel thankful that we are able to experience another year in God's presence.
So often, I see Advent as the END of another calendar year where I am rushing to finish up tasks, create the perfect few weeks for my family, and not forget Jesus's birth while I do it all. If I can change my perspective and see the season for what it truly is-a beginning with fresh opportunities- life automatically seems less frantic and overwhelming.
I love the Christmas season and really dislike the feeling of panic that "I simply won't get it all done". Simply by changing the deadline, I no longer feel as pressured to be superwoman. I can sit back and enjoy the fire in my fire place, take the time necessary to count my many blessings, and just soak up the joy of this Advent. It doesn't mean that i won't panic that everything won't be perfect, but at least I can revel in the understanding that I have a whole year ahead of me to put it all right!
Sunday, December 19, 2010
Breaking News -- worldwide story premiere
As you read this epic tale of long-lost family and blood that's thicker than distance, let your mind wander across the ocean.
Spin the globe and point your finger to stop on Ireland. Inch it over to Dublin to be more precise.
Now picture a crowded auditorium. A cast of hundreds turned out for Dublin's radio event of the season.
Imagine a talented tenor onstage above countless adoring faces, uncontrollably tapping their toes and clapping wildly, overcome with infectious Christmas cheer.
Now the crowd goes absolutely still as the host for the evening asks the tenor, John, what he will sing next. John asks if he can do a solo, a song he has loved since he was just a child. With great emotion, he belts out the words to "Bernadette." When he hits the last note and the cheers die down, the host asks why he is so beloved of that song.
He answers that for a long time, he could not explain why that song was his favorite.
Then he tells the crowd the story of his childhood. Of being in a home where his parents could not care for him. Of bouncing around to various foster homes. And blessedly, of being adopted out to a wonderful family. But of wondering, his whole life, if he'd ever see his birth family again.
With smiles and tears, he tells the audience that he recently reached out to his adoption agency to see if he had any living family. His parents and an older sister had unfortunately died but the agency had located his younger sister. A woman named, unbelievably, Bernadette.
All along she'd been living in the United States and wondering every day of her 50 years about her family, too. She and her brother contacted their adoption agency at nearly the same time and were thrilled to learn about one another. Many phone calls and emails later, they both feel a huge void in their lives has been filled.
The host asks if John and Bernadette have plans to meet soon. John replies that God willing, they would sometime next year. The hosts asks what he would say to his sister if he saw her today. Then, interrupting, he instructs him to say it to her now.
John begins to speak, but falters, seeing a woman, radiant but unsteady on her feet, making her way up the center aisle.
Bernadette.
Insert your own vision of a surprising and teary reunion here -- the joy and love that has been building their whole lives and especially since they discovered one another? It's all going on right now as you read this....
The Dublin radio station sponsoring the concert heard about John's story and got in touch with Bernadette to see if they could fly her and her husband over as a surprise to her brother. All she could think to ask was "Why would you do this for us?"
And the producer's quick answer? "If I were in your shoes, I would want it done for me."
Bernadette and John. We here in America are thinking of you and praying for you and are thrilled to share in your Christmas miracle tonight.
I'm so excited and honored to be the first media outlet in the world to be able to publish this big scoop. A big thanks to my sister-in-law Cindy for the tip! But seriously folks, if this story doesn't move you, or at least melt a little frost off ya, you might need an emotional transplant. What a great way to kick off our final week of advent. Cindy, if you hear from Bernie, let us know and we'll share some more details of her journey!
Spin the globe and point your finger to stop on Ireland. Inch it over to Dublin to be more precise.
Now picture a crowded auditorium. A cast of hundreds turned out for Dublin's radio event of the season.
Imagine a talented tenor onstage above countless adoring faces, uncontrollably tapping their toes and clapping wildly, overcome with infectious Christmas cheer.
Now the crowd goes absolutely still as the host for the evening asks the tenor, John, what he will sing next. John asks if he can do a solo, a song he has loved since he was just a child. With great emotion, he belts out the words to "Bernadette." When he hits the last note and the cheers die down, the host asks why he is so beloved of that song.
He answers that for a long time, he could not explain why that song was his favorite.
Then he tells the crowd the story of his childhood. Of being in a home where his parents could not care for him. Of bouncing around to various foster homes. And blessedly, of being adopted out to a wonderful family. But of wondering, his whole life, if he'd ever see his birth family again.
With smiles and tears, he tells the audience that he recently reached out to his adoption agency to see if he had any living family. His parents and an older sister had unfortunately died but the agency had located his younger sister. A woman named, unbelievably, Bernadette.
All along she'd been living in the United States and wondering every day of her 50 years about her family, too. She and her brother contacted their adoption agency at nearly the same time and were thrilled to learn about one another. Many phone calls and emails later, they both feel a huge void in their lives has been filled.
The host asks if John and Bernadette have plans to meet soon. John replies that God willing, they would sometime next year. The hosts asks what he would say to his sister if he saw her today. Then, interrupting, he instructs him to say it to her now.
John begins to speak, but falters, seeing a woman, radiant but unsteady on her feet, making her way up the center aisle.
Bernadette.
Insert your own vision of a surprising and teary reunion here -- the joy and love that has been building their whole lives and especially since they discovered one another? It's all going on right now as you read this....
The Dublin radio station sponsoring the concert heard about John's story and got in touch with Bernadette to see if they could fly her and her husband over as a surprise to her brother. All she could think to ask was "Why would you do this for us?"
And the producer's quick answer? "If I were in your shoes, I would want it done for me."
Bernadette and John. We here in America are thinking of you and praying for you and are thrilled to share in your Christmas miracle tonight.
I'm so excited and honored to be the first media outlet in the world to be able to publish this big scoop. A big thanks to my sister-in-law Cindy for the tip! But seriously folks, if this story doesn't move you, or at least melt a little frost off ya, you might need an emotional transplant. What a great way to kick off our final week of advent. Cindy, if you hear from Bernie, let us know and we'll share some more details of her journey!
Saturday, December 18, 2010
Laughing through the tears
Grave digging is grim work.
We lost eight baby bunnies and Hotdog the cat today. Plus the last of our incubated eggs (14 of them never even started to grow) also had to be removed from life support. For some reason it never hatched, but it was a chick in there. So we have exactly one new baby rooster, currently cheeping madly from the kitchen counter.
Hotdog was Jeremy's cat, the shy one I tamed out of the rafters. He loved me best. I think he got hit by a car. I took Jeremy through the steps of it all with me so he would "understand" what happened and not ask me a thousand times where's my cat? So first I had to go across the road to get the cat. Then Jeremy thought I was crying because the cat scratched me (and it looked like he could have as rigor mortis set in and his claws were all popped out and sticking straight up from the box I was carrying him in.) Then he thought Hotdog was sleeping. Then he thought we were putting Hotdog in the dirt to be funny, like sand over someone at the beach. The whole time I am explaining, "Hotdog isn't coming back. he's up in heaven with God. A car hit him and he died. His body is here but his soul and Hotdogness are up with God. We need to say goodbye to him. We need to pray that God will watch over him."
So we did all of that together and he worked hard shoveling dirt, but when we went to cover the cat's face he didn't like that. Didn't think Hotdog would like that. So I started all over, explaining how Hotdog couldn't feel it, he was gone to heaven, it was ok, we had to bury him and say goodbye.
When Bob got home, I wanted to see what Jeremy understood about what happened so I told him to tell daddy the sad news...
He tucked his head to the side, looked down and said in a sad voice:
"Hotdog went to Texas to visit his grandfather...."
Death is a challenging thing to explain to a 2-year-old, no? Kind of like explaining the virgin birth or the ressurection to a 4-year-old. I don't fully understand it all myself. So that, thank God, is where faith takes over.
-- Meg Ferrante (from my journal, Spring 2008)
We lost eight baby bunnies and Hotdog the cat today. Plus the last of our incubated eggs (14 of them never even started to grow) also had to be removed from life support. For some reason it never hatched, but it was a chick in there. So we have exactly one new baby rooster, currently cheeping madly from the kitchen counter.
Hotdog was Jeremy's cat, the shy one I tamed out of the rafters. He loved me best. I think he got hit by a car. I took Jeremy through the steps of it all with me so he would "understand" what happened and not ask me a thousand times where's my cat? So first I had to go across the road to get the cat. Then Jeremy thought I was crying because the cat scratched me (and it looked like he could have as rigor mortis set in and his claws were all popped out and sticking straight up from the box I was carrying him in.) Then he thought Hotdog was sleeping. Then he thought we were putting Hotdog in the dirt to be funny, like sand over someone at the beach. The whole time I am explaining, "Hotdog isn't coming back. he's up in heaven with God. A car hit him and he died. His body is here but his soul and Hotdogness are up with God. We need to say goodbye to him. We need to pray that God will watch over him."
So we did all of that together and he worked hard shoveling dirt, but when we went to cover the cat's face he didn't like that. Didn't think Hotdog would like that. So I started all over, explaining how Hotdog couldn't feel it, he was gone to heaven, it was ok, we had to bury him and say goodbye.
When Bob got home, I wanted to see what Jeremy understood about what happened so I told him to tell daddy the sad news...
He tucked his head to the side, looked down and said in a sad voice:
"Hotdog went to Texas to visit his grandfather...."
Death is a challenging thing to explain to a 2-year-old, no? Kind of like explaining the virgin birth or the ressurection to a 4-year-old. I don't fully understand it all myself. So that, thank God, is where faith takes over.
-- Meg Ferrante (from my journal, Spring 2008)
Friday, December 17, 2010
Either you give or you judge, but not both
I hate my kitchen countertops. They are 40 square feet of white laminate. Sprinkled around the countertop are large freckles where someone (ok…me) has set hot pans or dishes down and burnt the expansive white laminate. Sometimes I will think to myself, “Gosh, my life would be almost perfect if I had granite countertops. And while I’m at it, I’d like to put hardwood floors in the playroom and bedrooms…” So $10,000 worth of daydreaming later and I am left feeling depressed because we can’t afford these things, my husband works six days a week at two jobs, and my tears are soaked up by the mountain of coupons I am clipping. Sigh.
This seems to be happening a lot more often these days as the Great Recession is stripping hope away from me that things will be getting easier soon. I will wish we could afford to go to Disney World once a year (and NOT stay at a Super 8). Or I’ll wish we could travel around Europe for Christmas. I’ll dream about furniture that hasn’t been handed down to us. Heck, just furniture that matches! I inevitably end up sad because we don’t have those things and I just KNOW that if we did, our life would be better.
So, in November, the notice went out around the kids’ school that each class would be sponsoring a child for Christmas. Great, I thought. It must be nice to put your name in a hat and know that your child’s Christmas would be completely paid for. It must be nice to know that no matter how many kids you have, someone will be there to pick up the pieces. No consequences. No hard work.
The family we are sponsoring is a single mom with six kids ranging in ages from one year to ten years old. I figured I would give each of my kids ten bucks to donate and wash my hands of it.
I know it’s horrible to admit that I feel this way. I have often done charitable work with my whole heart and each year I get a little more jaded as I see people demanding they receive help and expecting it. No thanks. No relief behind their eyes. Just taking the turkey, closing the door, and finishing their X-Box game. Sigh.
My oldest child’s teacher decided that the best way to teach the fifth grade about giving was to take them to Wal-Mart and let them buy the gifts for the two girls they were sponsoring. I tagged along as a chaperone. I took three boys and we crowded around the cart and list to see what we would be in charge in getting.
This is what the 9 year old asked for:
a pillow (she didn’t have one for her pallet on the floor)
a warm blanket (it’s chilly on the floor in their apartment)
a new shirt to wear for school (although it’s a public school they have to wear uniforms and she only has one uniform that her mom has to wash several times a week)
and a Barbie.
I couldn’t believe it. I was really holding back my tears. A pillow. For Christmas. I found out from the teacher at lunch that this little girl and her two sisters were living in this tiny apartment with their mom while Mom was trying to get enough money together so that she and the six kids could live together in a nice trailer. The youngest boy had never even lived with his mother. The other children were living with various grandparents, some with cousins, all over the place.
All my cynicism melted away and I felt like a twenty year old again, determined to be charitable, determined to make a difference. At least for two little girls. And who knows, maybe we’ll have time to help the mother next year. Maybe teach her a skill. I think I can just relax for now. It took me and the teacher 3 hours to wrap all the gifts for our girls. A Barbie house is on its way.
I’ve learned a lesson about giving. Just give. Don’t think too hard about what the results may be. Someone will appreciate your efforts. Maybe this will be the best Christmas ever for two little girls in Greensboro.
Last night my kids made Rudolph cupcakes on my ugly countertops. In my warm kitchen, with a smiling Dad, and a Christmas tree sparkling in the living room. Thank you God for letting me feel the full brunt of my anger and disillusionment with mankind before bringing me back to Earth and humbling me all over again. I feel much better, thank you.
-- Bethanie Edmondson
This seems to be happening a lot more often these days as the Great Recession is stripping hope away from me that things will be getting easier soon. I will wish we could afford to go to Disney World once a year (and NOT stay at a Super 8). Or I’ll wish we could travel around Europe for Christmas. I’ll dream about furniture that hasn’t been handed down to us. Heck, just furniture that matches! I inevitably end up sad because we don’t have those things and I just KNOW that if we did, our life would be better.
So, in November, the notice went out around the kids’ school that each class would be sponsoring a child for Christmas. Great, I thought. It must be nice to put your name in a hat and know that your child’s Christmas would be completely paid for. It must be nice to know that no matter how many kids you have, someone will be there to pick up the pieces. No consequences. No hard work.
The family we are sponsoring is a single mom with six kids ranging in ages from one year to ten years old. I figured I would give each of my kids ten bucks to donate and wash my hands of it.
I know it’s horrible to admit that I feel this way. I have often done charitable work with my whole heart and each year I get a little more jaded as I see people demanding they receive help and expecting it. No thanks. No relief behind their eyes. Just taking the turkey, closing the door, and finishing their X-Box game. Sigh.
My oldest child’s teacher decided that the best way to teach the fifth grade about giving was to take them to Wal-Mart and let them buy the gifts for the two girls they were sponsoring. I tagged along as a chaperone. I took three boys and we crowded around the cart and list to see what we would be in charge in getting.
This is what the 9 year old asked for:
a pillow (she didn’t have one for her pallet on the floor)
a warm blanket (it’s chilly on the floor in their apartment)
a new shirt to wear for school (although it’s a public school they have to wear uniforms and she only has one uniform that her mom has to wash several times a week)
and a Barbie.
I couldn’t believe it. I was really holding back my tears. A pillow. For Christmas. I found out from the teacher at lunch that this little girl and her two sisters were living in this tiny apartment with their mom while Mom was trying to get enough money together so that she and the six kids could live together in a nice trailer. The youngest boy had never even lived with his mother. The other children were living with various grandparents, some with cousins, all over the place.
All my cynicism melted away and I felt like a twenty year old again, determined to be charitable, determined to make a difference. At least for two little girls. And who knows, maybe we’ll have time to help the mother next year. Maybe teach her a skill. I think I can just relax for now. It took me and the teacher 3 hours to wrap all the gifts for our girls. A Barbie house is on its way.
I’ve learned a lesson about giving. Just give. Don’t think too hard about what the results may be. Someone will appreciate your efforts. Maybe this will be the best Christmas ever for two little girls in Greensboro.
Last night my kids made Rudolph cupcakes on my ugly countertops. In my warm kitchen, with a smiling Dad, and a Christmas tree sparkling in the living room. Thank you God for letting me feel the full brunt of my anger and disillusionment with mankind before bringing me back to Earth and humbling me all over again. I feel much better, thank you.
-- Bethanie Edmondson
Thursday, December 16, 2010
God reminds me to roll with the punches
The inmates are killin' the warden this week, help! I am in poor form, feeling so ineffective with these whiney, insubordinate little weasels. Sigh.
So they are all complaining about phantom pains and how cold it is and how their clothes fit all wrong and how yucky the oatmeal is and how ugly the yellow paint in the kitchen is (ok, made that last one up, but there was very little they weren't complaining about) when Robby walks up with a piece of paper in his hand. It's a rubric, directions and guidelines for the persuasive paper they have due today.
Unable to contain my micromanager I ask, "There was a rubric? Why weren't you using it when you wrote the draft last week and the paper last night?"
He replied that luckily, he'd gotten it all in except one little part. Micromanager of course wants to know which part that was. He shows me. Oh, just a small, tiny, insignificant paragraph worth a measly 30 POINTS! T-mins 17 minutes until we are due to depart for school.
He goes back to the computer and types in a sentence that might have earned him five of those 30 points. Micromanager isn't pleased. She offers copious guidelines. They wrangle. He whines. She presses but maturely walks away.
He types and prints and micromanager approves. At least he'll get 20 of the 30 points. T-minus two minutes and she turns to find youngest still barefoot despite three reminders to get the socks and shoes on. BLOODY BADGER, what in the WORLD??? Total insanity now because I can hear poor hubby retching the bathroom, just when he thought he was getting better. It's time to start up the new Christmas Carol, "There'll be Joy and Peace this Christmas... at Someone Else's House...." Really, come on.
Walking out, two youngest forget their back packs. Micromanager narrowly refrains from chucking them out the door and knocking her sweet progeny off the porch with them. We pile in and the car that has been preheating for 10 minutes has had the air conditioning on!!! WHAT??? (Ok, that one was micromanager's fault, oops!)
Driving to school (straining to see around all the ice), the helicopter pilot wants to know if the 5th grader has finished all his homework. Affirmative. Not satisfied with that answer she asks, "Didn't you have a spelling test?" No. "Did you finish your math?" Yes. Spidey senses tingling, she knows something is amiss in the backpack... "Did you get your essay?" Silence. Quick rifling of papers. Silence. Head slapping. Yes, this was how the morning started.
Agonizing over letting him fail and learn a lesson vs. letting him succeed and play me like the fiddle I am, I am exhausted and near tears as I drop off the last child. Yet I am wedged in the car pool line because the van in front of me seems to be having trouble offloading its rider.
I wait, judge the distance I'll have to turn to maneuver out, drum my fingers, wait... Finally a teacher lifts the little girl out of her car and puts her on the ground. I recognize her but have never seen her at our school before. Two teachers swoop in to grab her as she cannot walk without help. With a big smile on her face, she swings herself forward, stiff leg by stiff leg, inching ever-so-slowly along the sidewalk toward school.
As her mom drives off, I burst into tears and bang the steering wheel-- an uneasy, three-kleenex, ah-ha moment. God did it to me again.
In the moments of my silly, spoiled despair, he reminds me--through something so beautiful and fragile--just how blessed my easy, easy life is!
-- Meg Ferrante
I agonized over using this. I know some of you have special-needs kids and I wasn't sure how it would be received. Worse, I know this blatantly proves what a brat I am. But this demon is forever a monkey on my back and I am always wrestling him... trying every single day to let things flow more smoothly and lovingly with my kids. As we are working toward joy this week, I thought I would share my struggle to see if anyone can relate???
So they are all complaining about phantom pains and how cold it is and how their clothes fit all wrong and how yucky the oatmeal is and how ugly the yellow paint in the kitchen is (ok, made that last one up, but there was very little they weren't complaining about) when Robby walks up with a piece of paper in his hand. It's a rubric, directions and guidelines for the persuasive paper they have due today.
Unable to contain my micromanager I ask, "There was a rubric? Why weren't you using it when you wrote the draft last week and the paper last night?"
He replied that luckily, he'd gotten it all in except one little part. Micromanager of course wants to know which part that was. He shows me. Oh, just a small, tiny, insignificant paragraph worth a measly 30 POINTS! T-mins 17 minutes until we are due to depart for school.
He goes back to the computer and types in a sentence that might have earned him five of those 30 points. Micromanager isn't pleased. She offers copious guidelines. They wrangle. He whines. She presses but maturely walks away.
He types and prints and micromanager approves. At least he'll get 20 of the 30 points. T-minus two minutes and she turns to find youngest still barefoot despite three reminders to get the socks and shoes on. BLOODY BADGER, what in the WORLD??? Total insanity now because I can hear poor hubby retching the bathroom, just when he thought he was getting better. It's time to start up the new Christmas Carol, "There'll be Joy and Peace this Christmas... at Someone Else's House...." Really, come on.
Walking out, two youngest forget their back packs. Micromanager narrowly refrains from chucking them out the door and knocking her sweet progeny off the porch with them. We pile in and the car that has been preheating for 10 minutes has had the air conditioning on!!! WHAT??? (Ok, that one was micromanager's fault, oops!)
Driving to school (straining to see around all the ice), the helicopter pilot wants to know if the 5th grader has finished all his homework. Affirmative. Not satisfied with that answer she asks, "Didn't you have a spelling test?" No. "Did you finish your math?" Yes. Spidey senses tingling, she knows something is amiss in the backpack... "Did you get your essay?" Silence. Quick rifling of papers. Silence. Head slapping. Yes, this was how the morning started.
Agonizing over letting him fail and learn a lesson vs. letting him succeed and play me like the fiddle I am, I am exhausted and near tears as I drop off the last child. Yet I am wedged in the car pool line because the van in front of me seems to be having trouble offloading its rider.
I wait, judge the distance I'll have to turn to maneuver out, drum my fingers, wait... Finally a teacher lifts the little girl out of her car and puts her on the ground. I recognize her but have never seen her at our school before. Two teachers swoop in to grab her as she cannot walk without help. With a big smile on her face, she swings herself forward, stiff leg by stiff leg, inching ever-so-slowly along the sidewalk toward school.
As her mom drives off, I burst into tears and bang the steering wheel-- an uneasy, three-kleenex, ah-ha moment. God did it to me again.
In the moments of my silly, spoiled despair, he reminds me--through something so beautiful and fragile--just how blessed my easy, easy life is!
-- Meg Ferrante
I agonized over using this. I know some of you have special-needs kids and I wasn't sure how it would be received. Worse, I know this blatantly proves what a brat I am. But this demon is forever a monkey on my back and I am always wrestling him... trying every single day to let things flow more smoothly and lovingly with my kids. As we are working toward joy this week, I thought I would share my struggle to see if anyone can relate???
Wednesday, December 15, 2010
Grace carried us that Christmas
Christmas was rapidly approaching and I was totally unprepared. This wasn't unusual... I was unprepared for Christmas each and every year. However, in past years my heart really celebrated the Advent season and while feeling rushed, harried and hassled I always knew everything would be completed in time for our big, wonderful Italian Christmas Eve dinner.
But this year was different - very different - and even though it had been eleven months and I had taken a class on "Getting Through the Holidays," I was still not looking forward to it - to any of it! I wanted to run and hide from it! But I couldn't run, I couldn't hide. I had to go on - even if I could not imagine how I was going to get through the first Christmas in 36 years without my helpmate, my soul mate, my love.
Plus, I wasn't dealing with just my own feelings. My mother was 91 years old and the last year had been very difficult on her. She lived with us and every day, during the day, Bob stopped home just to check on her and see to her needs. She missed him terribly and I knew I couldn't burden her with my feelings, so I kept them to myself.
As for my sons - well they were grown men and each was dealing with the loss of his father, mentor and friend in the best way he could. Yes, all their lives had drastically changed, too. They and their sweet wives worried about me and did all that they could to help ~ but sharing my grief with them was just not my way.
I did what was expected at work and then I came home and did what was needed there. I did all of this without any feeling and certainly not with any enthusiasm. My heart was heavy and sad and I just wanted to protect it for fear it would completely break and then I'd never be able to smile again. I began to understand what people meant when they said they had a "heavy heart."
And, by the looks on everyone's faces I think my heavy heart was felt by others. I could tell they were all feeling sympathetic and that was the last thing I needed or wanted. From the time I was a little girl, someone feeling sorry for me always did me in and I certainly didn't want to feel like a child again wanting just to cuddle up and be comforted and protected. After all I was a grown woman with a responsible job, a home and a family! Yet I felt all alone.
Prayer was my refuge... I seemed to pray constantly during the day and I started sleeping with a Crucifix in my hand and found it very comforting. I asked God to remove the pain in my heart. I begged Him to please take pity on me so that I could continue the way I knew Bob would have expected me to. Sometimes I felt God wasn't listening and answering or I wasn't hearing His message... was He trying to teach me patience? Was He showing me His timing is not necessarily mine?
We hear people speak of Grace, and I never quite understood just what that was. Scripture tells us we don't get it a minute too soon or a minute too late and it is there for the asking. Well, as I look back on that time I know it was nothing I did that helped me get through it other than prayer. I was too numb to help myself but the prayers of those who loved me, along with my own prayers, shielded me and helped me walk the necessary path known as grief.
I know it was the Grace of God that carried us that Christmas Eve. The dinner was sad since we were all aware of Bob not being there but everyone did all that they could to make it wonderful for everyone else. I think what really helped us was that we wanted to make it special for Angelica, Anthony and Alexis who were young and missed their Pop Pop. In our selfless giving for their feelings ours were somewhat mended.
After dinner everyone helped clean up and then went home. Everyone but Joey and Kathleen. They had decided to spend the night so that I didn't wake up on Christmas morning alone.
As we were getting ready for bed Joey said, "Mom what a glorious Christmas Dad is having...."
Yes and, Thank God, so was I!
-- Mickie Ferrante
But this year was different - very different - and even though it had been eleven months and I had taken a class on "Getting Through the Holidays," I was still not looking forward to it - to any of it! I wanted to run and hide from it! But I couldn't run, I couldn't hide. I had to go on - even if I could not imagine how I was going to get through the first Christmas in 36 years without my helpmate, my soul mate, my love.
Plus, I wasn't dealing with just my own feelings. My mother was 91 years old and the last year had been very difficult on her. She lived with us and every day, during the day, Bob stopped home just to check on her and see to her needs. She missed him terribly and I knew I couldn't burden her with my feelings, so I kept them to myself.
As for my sons - well they were grown men and each was dealing with the loss of his father, mentor and friend in the best way he could. Yes, all their lives had drastically changed, too. They and their sweet wives worried about me and did all that they could to help ~ but sharing my grief with them was just not my way.
I did what was expected at work and then I came home and did what was needed there. I did all of this without any feeling and certainly not with any enthusiasm. My heart was heavy and sad and I just wanted to protect it for fear it would completely break and then I'd never be able to smile again. I began to understand what people meant when they said they had a "heavy heart."
And, by the looks on everyone's faces I think my heavy heart was felt by others. I could tell they were all feeling sympathetic and that was the last thing I needed or wanted. From the time I was a little girl, someone feeling sorry for me always did me in and I certainly didn't want to feel like a child again wanting just to cuddle up and be comforted and protected. After all I was a grown woman with a responsible job, a home and a family! Yet I felt all alone.
Prayer was my refuge... I seemed to pray constantly during the day and I started sleeping with a Crucifix in my hand and found it very comforting. I asked God to remove the pain in my heart. I begged Him to please take pity on me so that I could continue the way I knew Bob would have expected me to. Sometimes I felt God wasn't listening and answering or I wasn't hearing His message... was He trying to teach me patience? Was He showing me His timing is not necessarily mine?
We hear people speak of Grace, and I never quite understood just what that was. Scripture tells us we don't get it a minute too soon or a minute too late and it is there for the asking. Well, as I look back on that time I know it was nothing I did that helped me get through it other than prayer. I was too numb to help myself but the prayers of those who loved me, along with my own prayers, shielded me and helped me walk the necessary path known as grief.
I know it was the Grace of God that carried us that Christmas Eve. The dinner was sad since we were all aware of Bob not being there but everyone did all that they could to make it wonderful for everyone else. I think what really helped us was that we wanted to make it special for Angelica, Anthony and Alexis who were young and missed their Pop Pop. In our selfless giving for their feelings ours were somewhat mended.
After dinner everyone helped clean up and then went home. Everyone but Joey and Kathleen. They had decided to spend the night so that I didn't wake up on Christmas morning alone.
As we were getting ready for bed Joey said, "Mom what a glorious Christmas Dad is having...."
Yes and, Thank God, so was I!
-- Mickie Ferrante
Tuesday, December 14, 2010
Inner demons don't take a holiday
An advent wish from a friend:
First, I thought about blessings I would wish for for my daughters.
Second, in trying to focus on my main blessing, I chose the first Advent candle, peace.
Peace from inner demons kept presenting itself as the most important need for peace. As I lay awake in the wee hours of this morning, I realized that it is I who needs peace from fear, self-doubt, anxiety... my buried inner demons. Finally, my wish is for the blessing of peace and freedom from all our inner demons, whatever they may be.
First, I thought about blessings I would wish for for my daughters.
Second, in trying to focus on my main blessing, I chose the first Advent candle, peace.
Peace from inner demons kept presenting itself as the most important need for peace. As I lay awake in the wee hours of this morning, I realized that it is I who needs peace from fear, self-doubt, anxiety... my buried inner demons. Finally, my wish is for the blessing of peace and freedom from all our inner demons, whatever they may be.
Monday, December 13, 2010
Beyond the tinsel and reindeer
Thank you, God, that Christmas is not about tinsel and reindeer. And when things are hard, you understand and are there. Thank you also for this song and video, which shows that maybe Christmas should include more embracing all that feels tough and confusing, scary and unsure.
That it might include inviting you to shine your divine light into the dark corners of our lives so that we might know you more and be certain of your love. And in those dark places, find peace and joy and hope and Jesus.
-- Lillian Craze
This is an amazing reminder of what it must have been like for Mary laboring in that dark, cold stable. As a Mom, it strikes a chord since I count childbirth as the hardest but most empowering hours of my life.
I love that in the week of the pink candle symbolizing joy, Lillian reminds us to go head-to-head with our toughest, not-so-happy challenges. If that doesn't ultimately lead to joy, it makes us stronger for the journey and more appreciative of the joyful times. With that, I encourage you to share your tough stuff with us this week. And I'm still eager to hear your blessings!
Click the "Watch on YouTube" icon in the bottom right corner of the video if you aren't able to see this video full screen. Working on correcting this....
That it might include inviting you to shine your divine light into the dark corners of our lives so that we might know you more and be certain of your love. And in those dark places, find peace and joy and hope and Jesus.
-- Lillian Craze
This is an amazing reminder of what it must have been like for Mary laboring in that dark, cold stable. As a Mom, it strikes a chord since I count childbirth as the hardest but most empowering hours of my life.
I love that in the week of the pink candle symbolizing joy, Lillian reminds us to go head-to-head with our toughest, not-so-happy challenges. If that doesn't ultimately lead to joy, it makes us stronger for the journey and more appreciative of the joyful times. With that, I encourage you to share your tough stuff with us this week. And I'm still eager to hear your blessings!
Click the "Watch on YouTube" icon in the bottom right corner of the video if you aren't able to see this video full screen. Working on correcting this....
Sunday, December 12, 2010
thankfulness
My offering to the advent blog will be longer than 5 or 10 words, but it is straight out of the perfect source of this kind of thing. I think it is a perfect segway from thanking God for his outrageously abundant pouring-out of blessings during the season of Thanksgiving to us receiving Jesus and continuing to live in Him at Christmas...
"So then, just as you received Christ Jesus as Lord, continue to live in him, rooted and built up on him, strengthened in the faith as you were taught, and overflowing with thankfulness." -Colossians 2: 6-7
-- Amy Gottschang
Amy recommends this wonderful resource for advent: a holy experience This entire website by Ann Voscamp puts such a beautiful, personal touch on this season of preparation, peaceful music and all!
Saturday, December 11, 2010
I say it outloud and praise the Lord for it...
The older we get the more we are aware of all the things that make us thankful: like our freedoms, our health and that of our family and friends, the messages we send one another from our hearts, the lessons we learn in acceptance, forgiveness and love, having the strength to stand uncompromisingly on Truth and everyday blessings which fuel us and for the ability to remember the good times of our loved ones passed. Thank you Lord.
We are still amazed that "out of the mouths of babes" we can hear God and receive simple yet profound life teachings and that from the golden season of life of the "greatest generation" we can sit at their feet and receive wisdom - among other things..... (just kiddin!)
I am thankful today for God's healing hand on my husband that step by step, his sinuses have been healed, from God leading us to the "right" doctor to perform surgery, to the prayer cover that elevated and made straight the way and for amazing results and I SAY IT OUTLOUD and praise the Lord for it. I am thankful during his recovery that he was more than a little "scratchy" and that at times I thought to adopt him out but chose instead to keep him because I love him and he does have his good points. He's making spagetti as we speak and it's always good!
Let's celebrate and hope we are a contageous virus as Meg says! Amen.
--Terri Abbott
We are still amazed that "out of the mouths of babes" we can hear God and receive simple yet profound life teachings and that from the golden season of life of the "greatest generation" we can sit at their feet and receive wisdom - among other things..... (just kiddin!)
I am thankful today for God's healing hand on my husband that step by step, his sinuses have been healed, from God leading us to the "right" doctor to perform surgery, to the prayer cover that elevated and made straight the way and for amazing results and I SAY IT OUTLOUD and praise the Lord for it. I am thankful during his recovery that he was more than a little "scratchy" and that at times I thought to adopt him out but chose instead to keep him because I love him and he does have his good points. He's making spagetti as we speak and it's always good!
Let's celebrate and hope we are a contageous virus as Meg says! Amen.
--Terri Abbott
Friday, December 10, 2010
Thursday, December 9, 2010
May God allow my hardships and heartaches to bless me with strength and wisdom this Advent.
And on a more positive note: May the Peace of Christ infuse my soul with True Joy this Season. :)
-- Bonnie Morris, mother of 7-year-old quadruplets and a 2-year-old
(Check out her blog: Bonnie's House of Fun.)
And on a more positive note: May the Peace of Christ infuse my soul with True Joy this Season. :)
-- Bonnie Morris, mother of 7-year-old quadruplets and a 2-year-old
(Check out her blog: Bonnie's House of Fun.)
Wednesday, December 8, 2010
Life between the dash
May my life be lived well between the dash... that is, the dash on my tombstone between birth and death... a life filled with few regrets, much love and much joy from my Savior.
-- Deb Smoak
Madison Presbyterian Church Preschool Director
-- Deb Smoak
Madison Presbyterian Church Preschool Director
Tuesday, December 7, 2010
A gift from God
My son Ian is a Gift from God... Ian literally means "gift from God" in Hebrew.
When Ian was three years old, his preschool class made pictures of the winter holiday they celebrated at home. My son painted a beautiful picture of a Menorah. He told his two teachers and fourteen classmates that he was Jewish. (My son was baptized in the Methodist Church.)
Ian is 6 now and after this Thanksgiving, on our way back to Georgia from my parents house, Ian asked if he was Jewish. I asked him, "Would you like to become Jewish?" He answered, "Yes I would." My husband, then simply said " Tell me why?" Ian
replied, " Because Jesus was Jewish, so I think I should be Jewish."
On Friday last week, Ian asked for a Menorah for Christmas.
This week, let's remember God's Chosen People and the miracle of the sacred oil that kept the lights going for 8 wondrous nights.
And yes, I think we will be getting Ian a Menorah for Christmas.
-- Erin Garrett
And a little child shall lead us. (This child, in particular, is a brilliant choice indeed. Ian, you old soul, I swear you've lived several lives on this Earth already. How can you know so much at such a tender young age???)
When Ian was three years old, his preschool class made pictures of the winter holiday they celebrated at home. My son painted a beautiful picture of a Menorah. He told his two teachers and fourteen classmates that he was Jewish. (My son was baptized in the Methodist Church.)
Ian is 6 now and after this Thanksgiving, on our way back to Georgia from my parents house, Ian asked if he was Jewish. I asked him, "Would you like to become Jewish?" He answered, "Yes I would." My husband, then simply said " Tell me why?" Ian
replied, " Because Jesus was Jewish, so I think I should be Jewish."
On Friday last week, Ian asked for a Menorah for Christmas.
This week, let's remember God's Chosen People and the miracle of the sacred oil that kept the lights going for 8 wondrous nights.
And yes, I think we will be getting Ian a Menorah for Christmas.
-- Erin Garrett
And a little child shall lead us. (This child, in particular, is a brilliant choice indeed. Ian, you old soul, I swear you've lived several lives on this Earth already. How can you know so much at such a tender young age???)
Monday, December 6, 2010
A wish, a gem
Electrifying awareness. God’s presence. Each moment.
-- Jamie Miles
Jamie told me she liked the idea of being challenged to sum such an important message up in just six words. Then again, she just really likes writing challenges in general.
Check out her blog, South Main Muse.
The six-word memoir site is also worth a look. Very real (but, be warned, not always upbeat).
-- Jamie Miles
Jamie told me she liked the idea of being challenged to sum such an important message up in just six words. Then again, she just really likes writing challenges in general.
Check out her blog, South Main Muse.
The six-word memoir site is also worth a look. Very real (but, be warned, not always upbeat).
Sunday, December 5, 2010
Blessings like stars (too many to count)
Advent is the perfect time to count your blessings. I feel like mine are way too many to count, but a few that stand out this year are:
That the Lord has blessed my family with health for yet another year.
That my husband can still make me laugh simply by making fart noises.
That my 4-year old son still can’t say his "r’s."
That my 7-year old daughter still thinks her Dad is taller than a telephone pole.
That I am still so close with my parents that they can read my thoughts.
That I have friends who really know me, and stick around anyway.
I hope your blessings are too many to count this Advent season as well!
-- Jenny Arthur
That the Lord has blessed my family with health for yet another year.
That my husband can still make me laugh simply by making fart noises.
That my 4-year old son still can’t say his "r’s."
That my 7-year old daughter still thinks her Dad is taller than a telephone pole.
That I am still so close with my parents that they can read my thoughts.
That I have friends who really know me, and stick around anyway.
I hope your blessings are too many to count this Advent season as well!
-- Jenny Arthur
Saturday, December 4, 2010
As you shop this season
It wasn't that long ago... my oldest celebrated his first birthday and thanks to the grandparents, it was like a celeb-r-a-baby bash, balloons and gifts galore, electronica, all the latest in lights and sounds and everything the most educated and well-off kiddo could ever want. At the end of the day, with his gifts surrounding him, I shot an entire roll of photos (remember film?) of him playing. But not with his new toys. And not with his old toys for that matter. No, he was inside one of the boxes that one of the new toys came in. He was singing some silly song, off tune, turning in circles and rolling about, laughing like the box was his new best friend. Cardboard. The gift of choice for the in-the-know toddler.
I should have remembered this. I should have reminded the grandparents. I should tattoo this on my arm. Flash forward just nine years and rewind the tape to watch a similar scene last Christmas.
Just four days after Christmas and we're packing for a trip to my sister's --four days spent fighting over and (with very little effort) breaking most of the new toys into the cheap plastic pieces they were. I told the boys to go grab whatever they couldn't live without and anything they wanted to show their cousins from their Christmas stash. They were back in moments, each of them with a few books and their favorite stuffed animals in tow.
"This is it?" I asked. "Nothing else?" They all confirmed their nopes and ran off to play.
Not one of their new items.
It got me thinking. And wondering if all the bickering and crankiness of the past few days wasn't related to consumption disease. We build up Christmas for over a month. We bribe them to be good. Advertisers make sure they're hyped for the biggest and best of everything under the sun. And then, the day finally comes and bam! It's gone. No matter what's under the tree, the thrill is gone in no time.
A wheel off the remote control SUV, an airplane with a now broken propellor 30-feet up a tree, a piece broken on the new game (and several more rolled out of sight), three plastic light sabers causing bruises and major malcontent.
If our house burned down... if we left for a year... if we met someone who had nothing... what one thing would my kids keep?
Sounds a little like an advent conspiracy for kids.
-- Meg Ferrante
I should have remembered this. I should have reminded the grandparents. I should tattoo this on my arm. Flash forward just nine years and rewind the tape to watch a similar scene last Christmas.
Just four days after Christmas and we're packing for a trip to my sister's --four days spent fighting over and (with very little effort) breaking most of the new toys into the cheap plastic pieces they were. I told the boys to go grab whatever they couldn't live without and anything they wanted to show their cousins from their Christmas stash. They were back in moments, each of them with a few books and their favorite stuffed animals in tow.
"This is it?" I asked. "Nothing else?" They all confirmed their nopes and ran off to play.
Not one of their new items.
It got me thinking. And wondering if all the bickering and crankiness of the past few days wasn't related to consumption disease. We build up Christmas for over a month. We bribe them to be good. Advertisers make sure they're hyped for the biggest and best of everything under the sun. And then, the day finally comes and bam! It's gone. No matter what's under the tree, the thrill is gone in no time.
A wheel off the remote control SUV, an airplane with a now broken propellor 30-feet up a tree, a piece broken on the new game (and several more rolled out of sight), three plastic light sabers causing bruises and major malcontent.
If our house burned down... if we left for a year... if we met someone who had nothing... what one thing would my kids keep?
Sounds a little like an advent conspiracy for kids.
-- Meg Ferrante
Friday, December 3, 2010
It'll take you higher and lower than you'd ever know you can go.
Life can be a long road with many detours and speed bumps.
But be happy to be on the journey and just try to enjoy the ride!
~ Ashley Lyn Moon
~ Mom E of 3 ~
But be happy to be on the journey and just try to enjoy the ride!
~ Ashley Lyn Moon
~ Mom E of 3 ~
Thursday, December 2, 2010
Ask yourself...
... who are you willing to disappoint this Christmas in order to have a peaceful advent?
-- Michelle Kinnison
I love this. Might sound a tad harsh at first, but as Michelle explains, people are easily disappointed anyhow. And yet forget quickly. On the other hand, YOU remember the stress. And sadly, Christmastime grows into an unpleasantry. Now how unfair is THAT?
So ask yourself... do I deserve better? Does God?
-- Michelle Kinnison
I love this. Might sound a tad harsh at first, but as Michelle explains, people are easily disappointed anyhow. And yet forget quickly. On the other hand, YOU remember the stress. And sadly, Christmastime grows into an unpleasantry. Now how unfair is THAT?
So ask yourself... do I deserve better? Does God?
Wednesday, December 1, 2010
Let it shine
God is the glimmer of light in life's everyday fog.
-- Michele Hoopengardner
Thought after the storms last night, and the sunshine today, Michele's words were a brilliant choice.
She told me that ten words or less was really hard for her. She also said the blog really does put a bright spot in her every day during the holiday season and gets her back on track of the TRUE meaning of the season. I'm grateful for her enthusiasm and for everyone's support. But please know the pleasure and benefit are mine as well!
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