The year is going

the last day of December

"Just as a dancer, turning and turning, may fill the dusty light with the soft swirl of her flying skirts, our weeping willow - now old and broken, creaking in the breeze - turns slowly in the winter sun, sweeping the rusty roof of the barn with the pale blue lacework of her shadow."- Ted Kooser, Winter Morning Walks

The spirit of giving

Ring out, wild bells, to the wild sky,
The flying cloud, the frosty light. 
The year is dying in the night;
Ring out, wild bells, and let him die.
The year is dying in the night;
Ring out, wild bells, and let him die.

Ring out the old; ring in the new.
Ring, happy bells, across the snow.
The year is going; let him go.
Ring out the false; ring in the true.
The year is going; let him go.
Ring out the false; ring in the true.

Ring in the valiant men and free,
The larger heart, the kindlier hand.
Ring out the darkness of the land;
Ring in the Christ that is to be.
Ring out the darkness of the land;
Ring in the Christ that is to be.
Alfred Tennyson, 1809-1892
-----

Beauty in broken things

The spirit of giving

Are any of your Christmas toys broken already? That's a metaphor - I don't really mean it, though over time gifts we've been given do break. While our joy and gratitude are high when we've received meaningful, useful gifts, that will wane - even turn to sorrow - when these become broken things.

In the spirit of giving I propose we follow I Thessalonians 5:18, be thankful in all circumstances, and D&C 98:1, in everything give thanks.

IN. I don't read here be thankful FOR brokenness and loss. But IN dark hours as things, even ourselves if you'll forgive me, crack.

Giving thanks does not take away our pain and struggles, but it points us to the Light in time of darkness. Being thankful sparks hope and strength to keep going.

None of us will escape grief, but I believe life does not have to be days and days on end without joy. I capitalized the word "Light" above on purpose to draw attention away from ourselves, our way of seeing things, toward Christ and His promise: And now, verily I say unto you, and what I say unto one I say unto all, be of good cheer, little children; for I am in your midst, and I have not forsaken you... (D&C 61:36) Thus I don't even think we're called on to wade through to the very end of our sorrow before we can experience joy - if in everything, all our circumstances (even broken things), we are giving thanks.

For there can be beauty in broken things. From the blog post Beauty in Broken Things (link)

"Be they gifts, family heirlooms, families or hearts; bodies, spirits or dreams – broken doesn't mean worthless or ugly... one day our eyes learn to look differently..."

"A friend posted this recently."

"Today I am thankful for geology, and this morning specifically, for opals. Opals are only beautiful because they are hopelessly fractured and thus continually refracting light. The result is the beautiful rainbow we see, the flashes of colorful blues, red, greens and yellow oranges. An opal without the fracture… is boring old “potch” opal, rose or white colored, no flash. So any time you begin to think of yourself as broken, remember, it is only through the fractures that the light in us becomes iridescent... make sure you are reflecting the right Light, and you’ll be better than fine."

"Sometimes we stay broken despite our best efforts to find beauty, meaning, or purpose, or the ultimate glue to stick us all back together." 

"Sometimes there are double rainbows after rain, and perfect puddles. Just like the puddles and opals - and our deepest truest selves – we are all fractured, broken and iridescent."
-----

Ring the bells that still can ring
Forget your perfect offering.
There is a crack in everything,
That's how the light gets in.
- Leonard Cohen

Try

Patience means staying with something until the end. It means delaying immediate gratification for future blessings. It means reining in anger and holding back the unkind word. It means resisting evil, even when it appears to be making others rich. Patience means accepting that which cannot be changed and facing it with courage, grace, and faith. It means being “willing to submit to all things which the Lord seeth fit to inflict upon [us], even as a child doth submit to his father.” Ultimately, patience means being “firm and steadfast, and immovable in keeping the commandments of the Lord” every hour of every day, even when it is hard to do so.

Dieter F. Uchtdorf

At the edge

The spirit of giving

Something I've noticed.

I'm right on the edge of my comfort zone.

It's this spirit of giving I've been on my soapbox about all month.

You can't believe the times within these last thirty days (okay, twenty-nine) since dad and mom said they'd come live with us I've realized I've been giving in the very moments I've felt most like giving up!  Not only one foot ahead of the other... not a bare toe-touch this time, but a leap, a plunge, like I took off a big rock one summer when I was whitewater rafting with sibs and kids, and our rafts paused at such - a big rock, a cliff - to let any who dared climb out, climb up and jump! I dared. I DARED! I shouldn't have, it was terrrrifying! A free fall! "I'll never do it again," I said. What's a forty-something mother of five doing hurling herself off a rock many several feet over a river, huh?

"Never," I said, but I have. I have. I've dared. I've climbed up on an imposing new life. Like before, I'm holding my breath. Like before, I've crept to the edge and've wished in the very first precarious moments I could back down... but no. Like before, I've jumped, gone over, irrevocably, and the experience at some point is dreadful. And now am sputtering and bobbing in my life jacket after a drowning dunking, exhaling and frankly assessing that I'm okay.

Don't gloss over that last part about the life jacket. And the sputtering and bobbing.

Wow. My comfort zone is going to have to get way bigger, inclusive. Giving in, giving, giving, giving, and not giving up.

Shall I make this a mantra for the new year?!!!

(I shouldn't talk in riddles. It's all good.!)

Taking the tree down

Mom got the decorations off the tree with me today. She sat in a chair with castors that moves about the floor when she pushes with her feet (there are three others like it around the kitchen table, brought out of storage these eighteen months onto our wide wood floor for making our mealtimes accessible and most comfy)...



...but then would stand, noticing ornaments above her. She reached and shook took them into her hands. Great exercise.



Resting here, and analyzing the details of this ornament. Always, stitching and fabric in her hands makes her happy.



She rotated to the table and lay things about her, talking about a dozen things...



then switched places and brought the set over to organize there. She enjoyed the activity.



The tree is down



and put away.

Goodnight, Christmas.

Winters of the soul

The spirit of giving

Winter solstice, the shortest day of the year for the northern hemisphere, happened exactly one week ago. Days are short this month, and the nights long. It's great to have Christmas lights still displayed in our neighborhood - without these and the Christmas celebration they symbolize all month, December would be very dark.

I kind of panic looking down toward the shortest days of the year. I don't like them - I thrive on the high days of summer. But I can endure them. Celebrating Christ's birth so near winter solstice is super symbolic because Christ is the Light! I may look to Him to dispel any personal "winter solstice,"



any inner darkness. And by virtue of the fact that short days always lengthen in their turn into spring and summer, in Christ all dark times I experience will lift and lighten.

Through us

Why, God?

By MAUREEN DOWD (link)

Published: December 25, 2012

Father Kevin O’Neil sings like an angel and plays the piano; he’s handsome, kind and funny. Most important, he has a gift. He can lighten the darkness around the dying and those close to them. Here is a meditation written by him on Christmas Day.

How does one celebrate Christmas with the fresh memory of 20 children and seven adults ruthlessly murdered in Newtown; with the searing image of firemen rushing to save lives ensnared in a burning house by a maniac who wrote that his favorite activity was “killing people?" How can we celebrate the love of a God become flesh when God doesn't seem to do the loving thing?

The killings on the cusp of Christmas in quiet, little East Coast towns stirred a 30-year-old memory from my first months as a priest in parish ministry in Boston. I was awakened during the night and called to Brigham and Women’s Hospital because a girl of three had died. The family was from Peru. My Spanish was passable at best. When I arrived, the little girl’s mother was holding her lifeless body and family members encircled her.

Expose yourself to the pain of another's suffering and love them
and be with them in love, and that is all we can do.
That is where we find our divinity.

They looked to me as I entered. Truth be told, it was the last place I wanted to be. To parents who had just lost their child I didn't have any words, in English or Spanish, that wouldn't seem cheap, empty. But I stayed. I prayed. I sat with them until after sunrise, sometimes in silence, sometimes speaking, to let them know that they were not alone in their suffering and grief. The question in their hearts then, as it is in so many hearts these days, is "Why?"

The truest answer is: I don’t know. I have theological training to help me to offer some way to account for the unexplainable. But the questions linger. I remember visiting a dear friend hours before her death and reminding her that death is not the end, that we believe in the Resurrection. I asked her, “Are you there yet?” She replied, “I go back and forth.” There was nothing I wanted more than to bring out a bag of proof and say, “See? You can be absolutely confident now.” But there is no absolute bag of proof. I just stayed with her.

A life of faith is often lived “back and forth” by believers and those who minister to them.

Implicit here is the question of how we look to God to act and to enter our lives. For whatever reason, certainly foreign to most of us, God has chosen to enter the world today through others, through us. We have stories of miraculous interventions, lightning-bolt moments, but far more often the God of unconditional love comes to us in human form, just as God did over 2,000 years ago.

I believe differently now than 30 years ago. First, I do not expect to have all the answers, nor do I believe that people are really looking for them. Second, I don’t look for the hand of God to stop evil. I don’t expect comfort to come from afar. I really do believe that God enters the world through us. And even though I still have the “Why?” questions, they are not so much “Why, God?” questions. We are human and mortal. We will suffer and die. But how we are with one another in that suffering and dying makes all the difference as to whether God’s presence is felt or not and whether we are comforted or not.

A contemporary theologian has described mercy as “entering into the chaos of another.” Christmas is really a celebration of the mercy of God who entered the chaos of our world in the person of Jesus, mercy incarnate. I have never found it easy to be with people who suffer, to enter into the chaos of others. Yet, every time I have done so, it has been a gift to me, better than the wrapped and ribboned packages. I am pulled out of myself to be love’s presence to someone else, even as they are love’s presence to me.

The Lord is in all our lives

The spirit of giving

Many times I catch myself giving the same "recitation" for a prayer. It's got to sound monotonous to the heavens, and be soulless... I'm more expressive and sincere when I remember I'm speaking to God the Eternal Father in Heaven who loves me so much that He gave His only Begotten Son.

There are times I catch myself dismissing thoughts in my mind during the day, thoughts that - when I think about it! - really are the still small voice of heaven attempting to answer my prayers and guide me.

I love this talk given by President Monson in October 2012 General Conference: Lessons I've learned about prayer

"The Lord's purposes are often accomplished as we pay heed to the guidance of the spirit."

"The more we act upon the inspiration and impressions which come to us, the more the Lord will entrust to us his errands."

"The opportunity to be a blessing in the life of another often comes unexpectedly."


"Our Heavenly Father is aware of our needs and will help us as we call upon him for assistance."

"I believe that no concern of ours is too small or insignificant. The Lord is in the details."



President Monson testifies, "The Lord is in all of our lives. He loves us. He wants to bless us. He wants us to seek his help. As he guides us and directs us, and as he hears and answers our prayers, we will find the happiness here and now that he desires for us."

Make me an instrument

O Divine Master, grant that I may not so much seek
To be consoled, as to console,
To be understood, as to understand,
To be loved, as to love.

Lord, make me an instrument of thy peace.

Enjoying listening today to Mormon Tabernacle Choir's "Peace Like a River." I had to go online for the full lyrics to their pretty amazing Lord, Make Me An Instrument of Thy Peace as I listened - it's stretching my heart so.

I love Christ.



I love you.

Pau!

The spirit of giving

Hi Nat, writes my sister from Hawaii in an e-mail to me.



This Santa is much larger than it appears in the photo - almost two feet tall and very heavy. Anyway, he makes me smile! BTW he's not dirty, the brown stuff is "rustic-ness." Love you, Sarah

I'd asked her to send a picture after hearing about him one day last week on the phone. "He's my rejoicing Santa!" she told me, recounting the story of buying him...

One Christmas she saw him at her Walmart on Kauai, all "two feet tall and very very heavy" of him. She really, really, really liked him (she said) but didn't buy him.

Back she went the next day with Danny her son, and they walked past the Santa. She must've smiled or something but didn't say anything and Danny looked at her and said, You want that Santa, huh! (I can hear his kind of husky voice needling his mom. Danny's a cutie.) "I knew he liked it," Sarah said, "so we got it."

"That was the year we were planning to come to Utah for Christmas so I'd put up no decorations at my house. I stuck Santa on the window ledge between the office and living room and, well, there's Santa waving goodbye to us for days as we got ready to leave the island. Goodbye! Up on his tiptoes, as good as saying, 'I'm done with you all this Christmas!' It made me laugh - there he was with his hands in the air: 'Yay! You're going away! For Christmas Day! Hooray, hooray!'"

"Now when I get him out and I put him up he reminds about all kinds of things, especially my first non-Christmas with him. I look at him and just smile and smile and smile. He has no backpack. No toys. No packages - no nothing. He's gotta' be the happiest Santa I've ever seen. Every other Santa you see is asleep in his chair or sitting with his feet propped up or near his wife having hot chocolate he's so pooped... or he's got his big old bag across his back lumbering toward a lot of children or is clucking at reindeer from a loaded sleigh. This guy is more or less cheering, 'Hallelujah, praise the Lord - I'm DONE!' Free and easy!"

"No worries, be happy."

Believe me now it's me talking I'd love the tippy-toes hands-in-the-air "no worries, be happy" every Christmas! I wish it was "I'm DONE!" all month. "Ta-DA!" I'd say in December with this rejoicing Santa's particular expression. "Ta-DA!" I say to mom as we accomplish a little thing together like climbing the stairs or buttoning her sweater. Mom grins and we're both cheesy about it - no worries. Hakuna Matata, right, all month long - that's neither a Hawaiian or mainland expression it's Swahili - you get it.

And this day after Christmas is exactly that! We did it ALL or, well, maybe just what we wanted to and now, phew! Done!

Pau!

Mele Kalikimaka and Hauoli Makahiki Hou!
Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!

With us

The spirit of giving

"I heard the bells on Christmas Day
Their old, familiar carols play,
And wild and sweet the words repeat
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!"
~Henry Wadsworth Longfellow



God gave us His Son.

His Son gave us Himself.



Emmanuel: God with us.

Coming to know

The spirit of giving

“MAYBE CHRISTMAS… PERHAPS… MEANS A LITTLE BIT MORE!”

Every Who down in Whoville liked Christmas a lot, but the Grinch, who lived just north of Whoville - did not. The Grinch hated Christmas - the whole Christmas season. Now, please don't ask why; no one quite knows the reason. It could be, perhaps, that his shoes were too tight. Or it could be that his head wasn't screwed on just right. But I think that the most likely reason of all... may have been that his heart was two sizes too small.

“And they’re hanging their stockings!” he snarled with a sneer, “Tomorrow is Christmas! It’s practically here!” 

Then he growled, with his Grinch fingers nervously drumming, “I MUST find some way to stop Christmas from coming! 

And the Grinch, with his grinch-feet ice-cold in the snow, stood puzzling and puzzling: “How could it be so?” “It came without ribbons! It came without tags! It came without packages, boxes or bags!” 

And he puzzled three hours, till his puzzler was sore. Then the Grinch thought of something he hadn’t before! “Maybe Christmas,” he thought, “doesn’t come from a store. 

Maybe Christmas… perhaps… means a little bit more!” How the Grinch Stole Christmas, Dr. Seuss
-----

Yes may we give up Christmas needing to come from a store!

May we come to know, young and old, that Christmas means a little bit more than ever the Grinch could know,



and a whole lot more than the world ever will.

Make room for Him

The spirit of giving

In 1987 I wrote an entire cantata "Behold, the Lamb of God," a ten-song presentation with narration about the life of Christ. I love to remember the absolute revelation I was given on a late night in February as I lay thinking about the Savior. This song in its entirety poured into my mind. I hurried out of bed and penciled on manuscript paper both the words and music before it could leave me.

BETHLEHEM

(Choir, all)

Bethlehem.  O, thou, Bethlehem,

Thou art not least among the

Princes of Judah.

For out of thee

Shall He come forth,

A Prince, a ruler of nations.

Bethlehem! 

Though thou be little

Of the thousands of Judah,

Yet out of thee shall He come forth.

Yet out of thee shall He come forth!

The Savior, Christ, the Lord.

(Mary)

How shall we come to the city

Bearing our offerings?

Who will this night receive us?

What will a new day bring?

How shall we carry our burdens?

Where shall we let ourselves in?

What shall we find at our coming?

Will there be room for Him?

For in the heart of me I know the prophecy.

Bethlehem, make room for Him.

I feel a part of me within thy destiny,

Bethlehem,

Wilt thou make room for Him.

(Angels - Sopranos and Altos)

Shepherds, watching in the night,

Can you hear us singing,

Can you see the light?

See, it shines on Bethlehem!

(Shepherds - Tenors and Basses)

Come, let us go to the city.

Hasten we through the night,

Leaving behind our vigil,

Looking toward the light.

(Duet:  Choir and Shepherds)

Come, let us go to Bethlehem,

There to see the thing

Which the Lord, this night,

Hath made known.

City of David, receive us!

Gather us in to thine own.

Bear with us our precious burden;

By this thy name is known!

(Mary)

For in the heart of me I know the prophecy.

Bethlehem, make room for Him!

Though little thou may be, still,

I feel thy destiny,

Bethlehem,

Wilt thou make room

For Him.

Bethlehem.

I was humbled then to receive what heaven was in the spirit of giving. Grateful to have time to respond through the night. I was open to the revelation! This song is almost the favorite of anyone who's ever performed the cantata or sung in a ward choir at Christmastime where I've directed this piece.

And here's a notion: Tiny Bethlehem cradled a King!


Certainly each of us can hold the Savior always in our hearts.

A Prayer For December
Dearest God,
Please never let me
Crowd my life
Full to the brim.
So like the keeper
of Bethlehem’s Inn,
I find I have no room
for Him.



Instead,
let my heart’s door
Be ever open,
Ready to welcome
The newborn King.
Let me offer
the best I have
To Him
Who gives me
everything.
~author unknown

Each of us is an innkeeper which decides if there is room for Jesus -Neal A. Maxwell

Reason for the season

The spirit of giving

Published in Meridian Magazine December 18, 2012, just a few days ago. JeaNette Smith has a quite interesting point of view - she starts off writing, "I love Christmas but I don’t allow Santa into my home. I’m not anti-Santa. I think he’s cute and jolly and all that red totally matches my Christmas decor, but he just doesn't belong. When I fill my home with Santas and reindeer and sleighs full of gifts, that’s what my kids think about... the gifts, Santa’s bulging pack, overflowing stockings. Their wish lists get longer and longer.

So years ago I told Santa that he need not bother parking his sleigh on our nine-pitch roof, nor squeezing into our gas fireplace. I was inviting a different guest for Christmas. That’s the year I began collecting nativity sets."

The Blessings of Commercialism at Christmastime

By JeaNette Goates Smith

Every corner of my home is filled with a different nativity set at Christmas time. The children are constantly reminded that the greatest gift ever was wrapped not in paper or mylar or cellophane, but in rags. Every figure in every nativity reminds them of the Savior. The shepherds remind them that the Lord is their shepherd. The sheep reminds them that Christ went like a lamb to the slaughter. Three kings remind them that Christ is the King of Kings. The star reminds them where they will find light and truth.



We still exchange gifts, but no longer do they rush us through our Christmas Eve devotional in anticipation of opening one gift before they try to sleep.

As much as I value the true meaning of Christmas and as hard as I have tried to keep commercialism out of my home, I’m actually very grateful for all the holiday fanfare. People complain when the candy canes appear right next to the pumpkins at the grocery store. “It’s bad enough that they start advertising Christmas before Thanksgiving,” my friends lament, “but Halloween?!!” I, however, breathe a sigh of relief and suppress a smile. Because commercialism has saved Christmas.

Consider all the ways the secular world has tried to remove Christ from our lives:

1. They have banned prayer in public schools. 
2. They force the removal of the cross in public places. 
3. The Pledge of Allegiance has become controversial because it concludes with “one nation, under God.” 
4. They have even considered taking the phrase “in God we Trust” off our currency.

Those of us who value Christ value Christmas because of the

No doubt the secularists would ban Christmas, were it not for the fact that it has become so lucrative for so many! Those who don’t believe in Christ value Christmas because they get to take - take their cash register revenues all the way to the bank.

I’m reminded of a lesson Corrie Ten Boom taught in her book The Hiding Place. She tells of being in a prison dormitory that was infested with fleas. The women hated the fleas that would bite and sting when they slept. Corrie’s sister Betsie, however, considered them a blessing. She realized that the guards stayed out of the women’s dormitory and granted them some privacy because they couldn't stand the fleas. Because the guards stayed out of the dormitory the women were able to keep their Bibles, read from the Good Book, and derive comfort.

It might be difficult to see any merit whatsoever in the commercialism that comes with Christmas, but because we tolerate the commercialism

• we are able to celebrate publicly 
• with everybody we meet 
• in every venue we enter.

We simply remember that the [Christmas] trees are not just trees, but they represent the universe. The ornaments represent the planets. It all reminds us of our Creator, who sent His son to earth in the form of a babe. To us the lights represent the star of Bethlehem, which showed the wise men the way to the Christ child and remind us that the resurrected Christ shows us the way every day.

Nope, not so much

Even Santa, good ole’ St. Nick, reminds us to be giving of ourselves. And although I never taught my kids that Santa stuffed himself down the chimney and left presents under the tree, I did teach them that long ago there was a really nice man named St. Nick who gave gifts to children.

The benefit of commercialism hit home this year when I hosted a family of atheists for Thanksgiving. They were excitedly preparing for Christmas, even though they didn't know a blessed thing about Christ. The children, aged 6, 8 and 10 were fascinated with all the nativity scenes in my home. They considered them “doll houses” and were eager to play with each piece. I sat with the children, and asked them if they knew who the baby was in the “doll house.” They didn't. I asked them why the kings were bringing the baby gifts. No clue. Why was the baby lying in straw and not in a blanket? Again, blank stares.

As patient as we are with the commercialism, and as tolerant as we are of others’ beliefs, we need to beware of becoming complacent when Christ is secondary to Santa or forgotten all together. We need to remind, remember and proclaim that Christmas is the season when we celebrate the birth of the Savior of the World. This birthday celebration, the birth of this baby, is the reason our own existence matters at all.

JeaNette G. Smith is a Licensed Marriage and Family Therapist (L.M.F.T.) and a Licensed Mental Health Counselor (L.M.H.C.) in private practice in Jacksonville Beach, Florida. She is the author of the recently released book, Unsteady: What Every Parent Absolutely Must Know About Teenage Romance, and a talk tape “No More Double Messages: Helping Adolescents Choose Abstinence.” She is the author of the book Side by Side: Supporting a Spouse in Church Service and co-author of From Playpens to Proving Grounds. She received her undergraduate degree at Brigham Young University, and her graduate degree at the University of North Florida. JeaNette and Bret have been married for 27 years are the parents of four children.

Ellie belly

Thought I'd throw some pics of Ellie up. I went over last night and as you can see she was



way into



her dinner.



What about these brown eyes, eh?

Tradition of Christmas giving

The spirit of giving

Giving at Christmas goes back to the Wise Men giving gifts of gold, incense and myrrh to the young child Jesus. A few centuries ago it was the custom for the rich to give gifts to the poor. Wealthy householders were obliged to open their homes to the local poor. It was also customary then to give your feudal lord a gift at Christmas to show your loyalty

The tradition of children receiving gifts has grown with the rise and rise of Santa. More generally the giving of gifts has been driven by the commercial pressures of Christmas. We see more on sale, we want more and we expect more.

Long gone are the days when children were delighted with an an orange in their shoe or stocking.

The first shop to see the commercial possibilities of Christmas was Woolworth’s which began to sell Christmas as a time to spend, spend, spend as far back as the end of the nineteenth century. At the beginning of that century the main Christmas expenditure had been on food and drink, but by 1900 shopping for presents had become part of the Christmas ritual.

To live with Thee there

I've had my temperament and emotions and heart shaken and stirred this week with mom and dad living here. It's natural - I expected it. I was warned about it by every sibling and most all my friends and even our parents themselves - and by my own promptings. Thank heavens I'm myself a part - no, a majority - of the queue of loved ones standing for keeping me stable and happy!

Expecting a stir and experiencing it are different things though.

You're never prepared for, say, childbirth though you've been expecting it nine months! The labor of it, the very sensation of being (please pardon, but it's like this...) turned inside out is exactly what I acknowledge I'm here on earth for, for it will take turning me inside out and upside down to become like God, fitted to live with Him in His very style of life.

Be near me, Lord Jesus,
I ask Thee to stay
Close by me forever
And love me I pray

Bless all the dear children
In Thy tender care
And fit us for heaven
To live with Thee there

I do welcome change-up, in my talk ("if you build it, [they] will come") and in my walk. I'm distinguishing this week something I hadn't up to now in this "marriage" of us and my parents. Not even had I pin-pointed it in eleven years of Kent's and my marriage:

We humans have not just ways of doing things, habits, say; thus, we are set in our ways.... we hold firmly to preferences. Get this: our favorites! If you hadn't understood this about yourself or family members before, look. See! It'll make you laugh if it doesn't make you cry first. What MY favorites are - and ah, dear, dear to me, penchants that are almost on autopilot in my body and spirit and mind that make me me - deliciously happy and deeply satisfied - have never been so clearly thought through and accounted for, distinguished, as during this week alongside dad's and mom's own exact desires.

And I mean exact. It's what I'm talking about.

I said to dad at the dinner table recently, we've got a "marriage" here and we'll give the best we've got to each other to make the union happy. We must be straightforward - say what's important. For a few days now we've been sharing, swapping (protectively sometimes) interests and points of view about the running of the household, the kitchen and meals, mainly. Dad knows better and best about a thousand things I'm a genius at - go figure. How to make guacamole. How to set the table - full complement of silverware. (Long story, all good.) Meat, potatoes and carrots, no side tricks. I like celery root in mine, erm... and dad now knows I'll also make and serve chicken and butternut squash quinoa stew. Probably today! Quinoa is a side trick, and there will be a few of these to allow me to be a creative engineer in my own kitchen, not a day laborer in a pretty apron. But he would rather have chicken on the bone, any way; fried, actually.

I'd rather not.

Well, and we swapped great stories at breakfast this morning, more about favorites - things that give us the shivers they're so good! Dad's are about water, the ocean, and what's in it, and dirt and what springs from it, i.e. a field and crops - two heartthrobs. And he and mom agreed to let me read to them from my blog a poem I wrote and posted on December 21st (link) two years ago, feelings about the earth as I observed a lunar eclipse, and the gratitude for - exactly - the things Dad was emoting about. One of my favorites - poem sharing, gee!

I'm shaken and stirred at all of it.

God grant me power to see and feel the things that make another happy, and us too, and provide for each in a balanced way and receive the same - safeguarding my temper and sensitivities, begging forgiveness as I ought, standing for my own interests when it's right, being extremely grateful, and acknowledging the prayers of many - so many - who love us!

Never let go of the magic

The spirit of giving

Scrapped after Christmas last December six months before Robert (his dad) and Jenny (my daughter) married, here is Isaac under our Christmas tree. And now a year has gone by - from Christmas last to Christmas now, Isaac's whole world has changed.



Isn't it the way of things? This now five year-old must think week days are long and the year between Christmases an eternity. I sure used to think so. I was so wiggly as a kid and eager for Christmas day during December that when it dawned finally I would hold absolutely still trying to (literally) hold the moments of magic. Sadly Christmas passed, and the magic with it, and it would be forever til it came again. Til to-moorrrrow! An expression Kent's twin nephews used once when they were little telling how loooong one of Pa's (Kent's dad's) morning prayers were. Too long.

Yes, til to-morrow.

Years of tomorrows grows us up and gets the wiggles out. Now our days and weeks whiz, supernaturally fast. Haven't you turned and wondered how you got to be sixty-something? (If you're Aunt Carol or Uncle Steve reading here; or seventy-something, almost eighty, if you're dad.) How you're thirty-odd-years old (if you're Robert and Jenny or darling cousins Lori or Sarah [I love you!]; or allmmooost that if you're Adrienne or Shana). Fifty-two if you're Laura who just had a birthday; and as old as dirt, Sandra! Sherri, hang in there - you're a kid still in your late forties. (If you turned fifty last birthday already I'll eat my hat! But you may've... I remember how old Randie is and you must not be far behind.). How have the years changed us from the children we were. And I think we're fantastic!

Here's Isaac, five and a half this month, to remind me. Look at those bright eyes.

Though I go slow now and time goes fast (instead of the other way around) how eager I still feel! That's a good thing... I hope to have ganas, Spanish for "I'm in the mood to," or "I want to," "eagerness," always. Always! May I never grow out of that and may I always have a few wiggles in me. And always be excited for Christmas! Love to give, and love to get.... never let go of the magic. Look up and down and all around and be grateful all my life. May I watch for gifts from under the heavens as eagerly as a child looks for presents under the tree.

I'm trying to

The spirit of giving

“How far that little candle throws his beams!

So shines a good deed in a weary world.”

~William Shakespeare, Merchant of Venice, slightly modified in 1971 for Willie Wonka

Every day this month I’m trying to do

• something helpful for someone or our neighborhood;
• something that's a little uncomfortable;
• something that connects me to someone;
• something that requires me to listen to people I disagree with;
• or something that forces me to seek out people who need a hand up

in the hopes that it becomes a habit.

And spreads light.

Open to receive

The spirit of giving

Doctrine and Covenants 88:28-31 speaks of the resurrection of souls to the kingdoms they've inherited...Ye who are quickened by a portion of the celestial glory shall then receive of the same, even a fulness. And they who are quickened by a portion of the terrestrial glory shall then receive of the same, even a fulness. And also they who are quickened by a portion of the telestial glory shall then receive of the same, even a fulness.

The following two verses make a point: And they who remain shall also be quickened; nevertheless, they shall return again to their own place, to enjoy that which they are willing to receive, because they were not willing to enjoy that which they might have received. For what doth it profit a man if a gift is bestowed upon him, and he receive not the gift? Behold, he rejoices not in that which is given unto him, neither rejoices in him who is the giver of the gift. (D&C 88:32, 33)

Hearing these scriptures in Sacrament meeting Sunday made me think

• How often have I questioned the blessings showered into my life because they weren't quite the ones I thought I wanted? 
• How many times have I failed to recognize the Lord's intervention and His tender mercies — which are always exactly what I need whether I realize it or not? 
• How often have I resisted receiving what the Lord has given me? 
• How often have I been unwilling to receive the guidance of the Holy Ghost, or 
• Have not sought or listened to the counsel that could have benefited me from loved ones or church leaders?

A blogger (link) writes:

One of the most frustrating moments of my life had to do with [my African refugee friend] Comfort's family. I had planned a “Girl's Night Out,” much with her teen-aged girls in mind. I found a couple of our Young Women who gave a great presentation on the benefits of modesty—a message I felt Comfort's girls badly needed. I knew they loved pretty jewelry and other “girl” things and had almost no money to get them so I invited my home ward to donate a wide variety of items, and the response was overwhelming! The girls could have received so many nice things that night at no cost—all who attended did! They could have received a fantastic message prepared just for them. They said they were coming, but in spite of phone calls and offers to pick them—they didn't come and they didn't receive.

She continues: God's forgiveness is freely given, but will not cleanse us if we do not receive it. I recently read of a man who prayed for 500 consecutive nights for forgiveness of a sin that he had sincerely repented of. When he counseled with a church leader about his distress at not feeling he was getting an answer and felt somehow he must not be worthy of forgiveness, he was told, in effect, "The Lord forgave you the first time you asked. How sad for you not to be willing to receive what He has given—but to just keep asking for it."

A gift is of no benefit at all to one who will not receive.

At Christmas and always - yes, in the very spirit of giving - we may commit to softening our hearts, becoming willing; casting out doubt and fear, and also pride; widening our vision and minds, being aware, and continuing fully repentant - thus, being open to receive.

To be sure

The spirit of giving

"Amen" is derived from the Hebrew root [aman] which means "to be firm or solid in the sense of permanency."

By implication it means to be sure, true or faithful. 

Whenever "Amen" is used in song or scripture it is affirming truth or illustrating that something is said which is certain. An Amen is sounded after an invocation or benediction by the congregation - us. Do you bestow such automatically... or give yourself wholeheartedly to invoking the spirit for high and sacred proceedings? And after, calling down the blessings of heaven.? Ah, beautiful Handel's "Messiah" that we hear and sing at Christmastime calls this to mind!

We can have the best understanding of the word looking at the way God uses it - in a different context than we normally would see it. [Amen] is a title for "God," illustrating His faithfulness to His promises.

Worthy is the Lamb that was slain to receive power, and riches, and wisdom, and strength, and honour, and glory, and blessing.

Blessing and honour, glory and power be unto Him that sitteth upon the throne, and unto the Lamb for ever and ever.

Amen.

Worthy is the Lamb & Amen Chorus, Handel's "Messiah"

Our Word

The spirit of giving

In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. The same was in the beginning with God. And the Word was made flesh, and dwelt among us, (and we beheld his glory, the glory as of the only begotten of the Father,) full of grace and truth. John: 1:1, 2, 14

Let us be thoughtful of what give at Christmas and always - especially our word. Let's not give



Ironically, when we give our word then we must keep it.

Come and See

The spirit of giving

"The shepherds were invited to come and see. They saw. They trembled. They testified. They rejoiced. They saw Him wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger, the Prince of Peace....

"At this Christmas season I extend to you the gift of determination to come and see...

"A young man in deep trouble and despair said to me recently, 'It's all right for others to have a merry Christmas, but not me. It's no use. It's too late.'

"...We can stay away and complain. We can stay away and nurse our sorrows. We can stay away and pity ourselves. We can stay away and find fault. We can stay away and become bitter. Or we can come and see! We can come and see and know!" (Marvin J. Ashton, Come and See, New Era, Dec 1989, 4).

We come tonight to celebrate the birth of the Christ child. Some of us come with heavy hearts, broken spirits, and tired bodies. Others come not remembering this child. Still others cannot imagine this child making a difference in our lives, in our worlds. Some of us come because we don’t know what else to do.

In the stories of his birth and death we celebrate a king who is far more powerful and far more glorious than any splendid earthly ruler. We see one who is more pure and righteous than even the most virtuous person walking this earth. One who does not treat anyone as beneath him, none are excluded from his love. We see one who is the rightful judge of all the earth, yet who never judges us harshly for our attempt to run from him and shield ourselves from his light.

If we let go of our petty excuses to run from this love we can come to know this Savior that chose to come as a fragile and vulnerable and powerless newborn baby.  Then and only then may we stand in the light of Christ. http://motherjulie.blogspot.com/2011/12/christmas-eve-sermon.html