Musings on Marriage

Tag: Christmas

Contentment at Christmas

Dear Daughters,

It was two weeks before Christmas and I didn’t even have my wreath up yet.  Thanksgiving decorations were sitting around waiting to go into the storage box, then heading down for the basement.  The Christmas tree was still in its box.  I cancelled my piano student’s Christmas recital, and everything is different this year, not at all going as planned.

That’s probably been the story of every one of you sometime or other – we all have plans for our lives, and rarely do they go according to our idea of how they should.  Sometimes there are disappointments, sometimes unexpected joys, sickness, heartache and grief, while it seems like the rest of the world is joyful and festive. 

It would be easy for me to dwell on what I don’t have – energy because of ongoing covid fatigue, the loss of a beautiful evening of Christmas music from the students I love, the extra work it takes to care for dad, missing out on events I had hoped to be a part of.  And to be truthful, I have been disappointed, sometimes angry and frustrated about how drastically our lives have changed. 

But after grieving my losses, I have chosen instead to dwell on what I can do – call up a home health care service and ask for help from a woman with lots of energy, enjoy watching and listening to The Messiah, ask for help from some grandchildren and their parents, hire a snowplowing service to clear our driveway this winter.  Dad has always been able to snow blow and shovel our driveway and sidewalks, but there comes a time to pass the work on to someone else. 

I’ve always loved the verse, I can do all things through Christ who gives me strength.  But it wasn’t until a few years ago that I found that verse in context.  Paul, who penned these words as he was sitting in a Roman prison, wrote the following rather astounding sentences:

…I have learned to be content in whatever circumstances I am.  I know how to get along with humble means, and I also know how to live in prosperity; in any and every circumstance I have learned the secret of being filled and going hungry, both of having abundance and suffering need.

I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me…

Philippians 4:11-13

Contentment is the main subject, and suffering can be our greatest teacher.  While we have no control over whether or not we will contract an illness, we can learn to decide how we live during that time – be it a short time or long.  We can choose to lament why me? and see the unfairness of it all, or we can come to the point of surrendering the circumstances of our lives to Jesus and finding contentment in whatever comes our way.  It seems counterintuitive, but contentment is a by-product of the strength Jesus gives us. 

 I will be honest, there were a few days during our covid adventure that I was not content.  When I first learned Dad was coming home and I was still struggling with the virus, I was frustrated – How can I take care of him, an oxygen tank, a walker, a back brace… when I’m only able to be off the couch a few hours a day?  But after I spoke about all my inadequacies and irritation to Jesus (He’s usually the first one I vent to) I found out that a few hours a day off the couch was all I needed.  Friends and family brought food, nurses were nearby virtually, and we both started improving slowly but surely. 

I cry aloud to the Lord; I lift up my voice to the Lord for mercy.

I spill out all my complaints before him, and spell out my troubles in detail.

Psalm 142:1-2

When we come to the end of our own strength and cry out for help, He often sends assistance through other people. So much food was provided that we had to put some in the freezer for a time, young and energetic children and grandchildren helped move around furniture and put up decorations, assisted with the outdoor work we were unable to do, and now… all is well.

Thank you all for generously giving to us,

Love, Mom

Bag of Rags

Dear Daughters,

My friend, Ann, always makes me laugh.  She is a storyteller extraordinaire, and somehow even sad stories end up funny when Ann is the narrator.

A few years ago in December, Ann prepared Christmas gifts for her and Ed’s employees, just as they do every Christmas.   She carefully placed each employee’s bonus and gift inside brown paper bags.  It is always Ed’s job to deliver the bags to the employees.  Strangely, after distributing all the bags, he had one leftover.  Ann knew she had the correct number of bags ready for Ed, so they were both wondering how he ended up with an extra gift bag.

So, Ed decided to call each employee personally and ask if he had received his Christmas gift. Yes, the first guy received his, and the next and the next.  Finally he called the last guy, and his response was “What did I ever do to offend you?”

Ed and Ann’s daughter worked in a beauty salon and periodically brought hair-dye stained rags home to her dad because he could always find a use for them in the barn.  Those rags were always brought home in a brown paper bag.   Apparently, he had picked up that bag of rags with all the others and …. well, you can figure out the rest of the story.

Ann and I laughed and laughed, but on the way home I got thinking about the bags of rags we give to each other at one time or another.

Wreath (2)

About ten years ago, you and your families were at our house for a Christmas celebration.  As our tradition has been for many years, every person has to hunt for one of their presents.  We are all given 10 clues and at the end of the search a gift is the reward.

Well, this particular year I successfully got to the end of my ten clues and for whatever reason, the gift spot was empty.  Immediately the words came into my mind:

Yep, this is always your life.  You try hard, work hard, but there will never be any prize for you….

I put on a happy face and tried to laugh about it but inside I was weeping, hurt and trying not to believe those ugly words in my head.  I knew the empty spot was not left deliberately that way, but it was still empty and the words ricocheted through my mind.

To be fair, this happened during a year I was going through menopause, rejection from people I loved, and a chronic illness.  But whatever your back story is, hurts – either perceived or actual – always hurt.

Snow (2)

We have all received rag bags of ugly, stained words from those we love, and we have all given bags of rags to those we love.

I have given many rag bags to Dad over the years– words said in anger, frustration and sometimes bitterness.  Bags like “You always forget my birthday” (yes, a few times he did) or “You have lists but you don’t ever do them” (he does much of what is on his lists but not always what I want him to do). Some of the rag bags I have given to Dad have been deliberate, others have been unintentional.

It goes both ways. Dad has given me bags of rags as well, but since this blog comes from my perspective and not his I will refrain from speaking about those.

Because we live in a fallen world, offense comes often and intense. We cannot predict or control which bags of rags we are given, but we are responsible for our reaction to them.

We can believe those thoughts and words that are spoken and creep into our mind – that we are worthless, unlovable and a failure, that all our efforts are useless and wasted,

Or

We can choose to believe that we are loved by God, a chosen, beautiful child of God.  When we fail, when we hurt, when we pray for better relationships we can believe that He is for us and not against us.  He is always working for our good.  We can forgive and move on in our lives, knowing that Jesus never allows anything in our lives that will not make us stronger and more like Him.

NativityScene

When Jesus came down to earth many centuries ago, He came directly into our bag of rags.  The world at that time was corrupt, brutal, dark, inhumane and heartless.  Interestingly, he didn’t start explaining the rags and why they were there, He simply came into it (Immanuel – God with us) and showed us a way out.  He presented a better way to live, the way of love even in the face of unjust tyrants and religious hypocrites.

When you are given a bag of rags, invite Jesus into it.  His specialty is making good come out of suffering, righting wrongs, making all things new, and above all –  teaching us to trust Him.  When we love freely, forgive abundantly, and give those bags of rags to Him, we will find joy, freedom and contentment.

The employee who received the bag of rags that Christmas still carries the offense around with him.  He hasn’t come to see it as an accident or even a humorous error from his employer.  Of course, his bag was replaced with the intended beautiful Christmas gift, but he still hangs on to the rags in his mind.

Remember, remember that you can always get rid of those bags of rags and trade them in for a good gift.

Love, Mom

AllIsWell (2)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

All Is Well

December 22, 2014

Dear Daughters,            

We are far away from all of you this year so I am taking time to remember all the years we were together, just you four daughters, Dad and I.  After dinner during the Advent season we would always light a single candle or more and sing Christmas carols together.  Even though there may have been misunderstandings, faulty communication and hurts during the day, the singing would somehow make things better, peaceful and good.  How those memories have flooded over me this season.

Wreath (2) Then came the memories years later when our family was growing – boyfriends, husbands, babies.  One memorable Christmas Eve as we were all together there were hurtful words, tears, struggles to understand, brokenness and pain.  That night was not what any of us had hoped for or could have predicted.  The next morning, Christmas Day, you four girls were scheduled to sing during the worship service.  As the evening wore on and we were waiting for understanding and forgiveness, one of the sons-in-law asked what song we were planning to sing.  All Is Well was my reply.  He said “I think The Old Rugged Cross would be more appropriate at this point.”Cross  Personally, I was ready to cancel Christmas altogether.  After all the careful planning, meal preparation and hopes of a Silent Night, Holy Night, it had turned into a Painful Night, Tearful Night.  I was in no mood to sing, and especially not All Is Well because all was certainly not well in our home that night. But in the midst of the sadness, the heartache that comes with our brokenness, God was there.

It was almost midnight when you girls and I walked over to the empty church building and practiced All Is Well.  You sang, I accompanied on the piano and as we practiced, somewhat mechanically, I felt the Spirit of God hovering among us, silently, gently, almost imperceptibly.  Hope grew in my heart – that relationships would be restored and love would continue.  Exhausted, yet at peace we went home to sleep.AllIsWell (2) The next morning dawned and we quietly gathered ourselves together.  We worshiped in faith, still bruised and weary, but we worshiped and sang All Is Well. 

Since that time I have pondered many times the fact that all is indeed well, always, whether life is peaceful or whether there is strain.  The fact is, Immanuel, God is with us.  He’s there in our hard times, he’s there in our joyful times.  He never leaves us.  He’s working to continually restore relationships and bring reconciliation to those who are willing to forgive.

A Hallmark Christmas ours was not that year, but we learned once again that Jesus came for us, came for families like ours who battle, disagree and hurt each other.  He came so that we could be made new, so that we could learn to love and be faithful, so that we could learn to humble ourselves and forgive.

Now, many years later, we are in Idaho and again among families that have battle scars, yet still we sing.  On these dark and cold advent nights we are practicing the same tradition with Grandpa and Grandma that we did with you girls so long ago.  We light the candles and sing carols, a new tradition for them.  Their voices quaver and are not quite as in tune as they used to be.  When we go down the scale on Away in A Manger Grandpa goes up and we meet somewhere in the middle, but it is still peaceful and good.

All Is Well.

Love, Mom  

                                                                                                                                                                               

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