12.10.2009

Christmas is for brats

I was thinking about Christmas this morning. About seemingly silly traditions that accompany this holiday. Moreover, I was thinking that it was wrong to celebrate in some of the ways we do. It was unfair. I was trying to sort in my head all the gifts that still needed to be made and purchased and weighing the things I still needed to get for my kids against the mountains of presents they would already be receiving. I needed to make sure I got them something they would like, something they wanted, something someone else wasn't already giving them. And hopefully something that they would love and be interested in for more than a week.

That led to thoughts of what to get the little cousins whose names we have. This is trickier because we don't see them often and aren't always sure what they would like or what they already have. Then there are gifts for friends and neighbors and grandpa and the sister who has everything and teachers and mailmen...I thought, "this is ridiculous! This long list of people that we buy for whether or not they deserve a gift, whether or not it will be appreciated and used and loved, whether or not it is something that they want."

My kids know that they will be getting gifts for Christmas -- lots of gifts. No matter how many times in the month of December I may say, "you had better be good or Santa won't bring you any presents." Or my latest threat, "If you don't start picking up your stuff I am going to pick it up for you and wrap it up for your Christmas!" No, my kids know that, come Christmas morning there will be a pile of presents carefully chosen just for them. And the giving doesn't stop there. They will open gifts at home, at Grandma's later that morning, at Grandpa's that afternoon and the gifting will continue into the next week as we travel to the other grandparents' house for a Christmas party there.

All these gifts, regardless of their deserving them.

And then a thought stopped me in my tracks.

Isn't that exactly what Christmas is all about? It is a gift of a Savior of the world. A gift of a perfect example of a perfect life. A gift of atonement and redemption and resurrection and eternal life. And it is all given freely and lovingly to every person in the whole world. Even brats like me. No one deserves it. Few acknowledge it and none of us are grateful enough for it. Too many times I don't even give it much thought. Yet, it is the perfect gift delivered with pure love and certainly with hopes and prayers of our using it. No gift has ever had a higher price, a greater degree of agony, or a brighter promise of hope.

Today I thank heaven that Christmas is for brats.

9.17.2009

Upheld

To say that this week has been tough would be quite the understatement. Combine my bronchitis, an explosion of produce to can, a houseful of influenza, and --toughest of all -- a miscarriage at 12 weeks and I have really been having a difficult time.

Tonight, as I was tidying up an unusually quiet house, alone because my husband is out of town, I found myself humming a song. This song has been an almost-inaudible soundtrack in the back of my mind for a few days now and in the silence of this evening I noticed, for the first time, the words. I realized then that I am not hearing this hymn from the beginning but, rather, it is the third verse that is playing in my head:

"I'll strengthen thee, help thee, and cause thee to stand upheld by my righteous, upheld by my righteous, upheld by my righteous omnipotent hand."

That has been my Father's message to me this week. And tonight I finally was still and listened. And I know the words are true.

1.01.2009

Repentance

The summer is warm
And the rosy cheeked apples,
Made ripe by the sun's gentle kiss,
Are plucked from their precarious perch,
On thin branches who strain with the load.
Fall comes and the used trees
drop
Their brown and dirty leaves and
Stand naked
In the brilliant orange harvest moon,
Making dancing black shadows
On crisp grass below.
They are mournful,
Sad and lonely in the darkness.
But winter comes and soon
Clean pure snow has covered the brittle grass.
It lands gently,
Silently on branches,
Covering the scars of harvest
With its soft blanket of white.
The tree sleeps then,
Prepares itself for another season.
It strengthens its heart
And pushes its roots deeper
Into the healing, nurturing soil.
After many, many cold, rough days,
The snow begins to melt away.
Slowly
It seeps into the rich, dark ground
And disappears.
The little tree stands taller now,
Fresh new leaves bud from its soul.
I am like the tree ~
And so thankful for new beginnings.