My Brother

Photo by Travis Grossen on Unsplash

My Scripture reading this morning was from 1 John 3:1. “What great love the Father has lavished on us, that we should be called children of God!”

If God is my Father, then Jesus is my Brother.  

We are family.

I can’t describe the depth of emotion those words create. 

Even though he died when I was very young, I still miss my earthly brother. I think of him every day. What kind of man would he be had he lived? Would he have a family? What kind of career would he have chosen? Would we still be as close as we were when we were little? My heart says we would.

This scripture passage reminds me I have another Brother. One who is both in heaven and here on earth with me. I’ve seen him, talked with him, hugged him, and basked in his love. He has promised to be with me always, even unto death. Even then, he has promised to escort me into heaven when my time comes to leave this earth.  

They call me daughter and sister even though I’m flawed, sinful, and imperfect, and still my Father offered my Brother as an atonement for my sins, and my Brother willingly obeyed. They love me that much.

What do they ask in return? Only that I love them back and try to mold myself after them. Try being the important word. They both know I’ll fail again and again, but as my Brother told me, it is the trying that counts.

Oh, Father, words cannot describe the depth of my gratitude for choosing me as one of your children. Help me this day to emulate my Brother’s virtues. Amen.

Permission to Be Happy

Photo by Stefan Nyffenegger at Pixabay

This time of year, people are happier than any other season. We see it everywhere in small kindnesses, cheerful greetings, and happy faces, except perhaps Black Friday. Yes, I’ve heard the horror stories, but more than any other time of year we have hope of good things to come.

For God to right all wrongs.

For our families will be healed and brought closer together.

For an end to violence and hatred.

For all of us to share in God’s abundance.

We’ve all been in those dark places where there seemed to be no hope. Then, a scripture passage, the kind word of a stranger, or the prayers of family and friends gave us hope of a better tomorrow. We only needed to hang on a little longer.  

Psalm 27 was among my morning devotions.

“The Lord is my light and my salvation, whom shall I fear? The Lord is the protector of my life: of whom shall I be afraid? I believe to see the good things of the Lord in the land of the living. Expect the Lord, do manfully, and let thy heart take courage, and wait thou for the Lord.”

Psalm 27: 1-2, 13-14

That passage has brought me through many dark hours.

I once read a meme about the proverbial half empty or half full glass. I liked the author’s take. It didn’t matter whether it was half full or half empty because the glass can be refilled. 

And so can our hearts.

Thank you, Lord, for giving us the gift of your Son and the hope his presence brings. Amen.

In God's Hands

Photo by Gerd Altmann at Pixabay

With the holiday season starting next week, our expectations and disappointments rise. Who doesn’t want the traditional Currier and Ives's holiday surrounded by a loving family? But no matter how hard we try, some people will not respond to kindness and friendship. Misunderstandings, mistrust, opinions and differences in beliefs lead to rejection and discord. Even Scripture warns us of enmity between family members, friends and community.

Even so, the pain is still there, clouding our days, particularly during the holidays.

Jesus told us to forgive not once, but seventy times seventy. It’s for our own health even if it’s not reciprocated. So, we forgive and receive no response from the other party. What then?

In the parable of the Prodigal Son, the father stood ready to welcome his wayward child, but he didn’t go searching for him. He waited for his son to return and ask for forgiveness. Jesus didn’t chase people down the street and beg them to listen to him either.

The same applies to us. No chasing after people who do not want a relationship or are toxic to our mental and physical health. With prayer we let them go, placing them and our expectations in God’s hands. What better place to leave them?

Dear Lord, you see the hurt and the pain of this broken world, and you weep with us. But we wait in hope, because through you all things are possible, even the melting of stony hearts. Amen.

Christmas Optimist, Pessimist, Idealist, or Realist?

We idolize the holidays, believing this special season changes the entire world and everything and everyone in it. Like Chuck Griswold, we become overly optimistic, believing in the ideal of the perfect family Christmas. Life is built on the imperfect, and we are usually greatly disappointed for one reason or another when our expectations are too high or unrealistic. Then we become pessimists at best and Scrooges at worst. I suggest something else - a true Optimist. An idealist who recognizes and acknowledges flaws, but chooses to focus on what is right, rather than what is wrong.

In the well known story, two boys were placed in separate rooms. One filled with every imaginable toy, the other with manure. After an hour observers went to each room to see the boys' reactions. Sure enough, the Pessimist could only complain. Nothing was right. Every toy had a flaw or defect. Noting this, the observers moved to the next room. To their amazement the Optimist was busy digging in the manure. They asked him what he was doing. His answer, "With this much manure, there has to be a horse in here somewhere!"

This holiday season will not be Courier and Ives perfect, not with family scattered across several states and cities and the usual dynamics causing conflicts and misunderstandings, or other concerns trying to push their way in to spoil it. It will be somewhere between A Christmas Story and National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation, and with a little effort some What A Wonderful Life mixed in, filled with more blessings than I can count. 

I will go one step further. Those visitors on that first Christmas could have chosen to see only a poor family and a cold, dirty stable, but instead they saw the glory of God and the Salvation of Man, Emanuel - God With Us. 

Merry Christmas. May your holidays be blessed with love and joy in whatever form they take. 

Christmas Past, Present, and Future

This time of year means different things, depending on the person and their situation. My family focused on the religious aspect growing up. My parents wanted my sister and me to concentrate on Christmas Mass, and so we opened gifts Christmas Eve.

Later, with my own family, we changed that tradition to Midnight Mass Christmas Eve and opened presents on Christmas Day.

In later years, after the loss of my husband and with both sons out on their own, my daughter and I struggled to keep traditions. They brought a mixed set of emotions. The first year after my husband passed away, I waited too long to buy a tree. Not a single lot had a tree I could afford. I brought three accent trees home from the flower shop. They weren’t Christmas trees, more of a bonsai Sequoia. We laughed every time we looked at them, turning our melancholy joyful.  

After my daughter married and left home, Christmas became another holiday to endure with memories of what was. After my husband’s passing, we stopped the big family gatherings, the gift giving, and almost all the traditions. They were too painful those first few years.

I eventually remarried. My daughter and sons had families of their own and their own traditions. We still yearn for those remarkable Christmases of the past, those big joyous celebrations with twenty people for dinner, a whole department store wrapped under the tree, grandparents drinking coffee and watching the kids with their presents. Perhaps my children can recapture some of that with their families.

My holidays are much quieter, simpler, particularly Christmas. We exchange phone calls rather than gifts. I spend more time reflecting, meditating, praying. I am thankful for my husband and our quiet celebrations. Life changes and moves on.

My husband and I will share dinner with close friends and their family rather than try a large gathering with my family since snowy, icy roads, and long distances, prevent travel at Christmas. We did manage to all gather in my hometown this past Thanksgiving for the first time in ten years. With luck, it won’t be ten years before the next gathering, holiday or not.

I am acutely aware of how precious those times are. My parents won’t be with us much longer. My dad is eighty-seven, and my mother is eighty-two. My children are in their middle ages, and I’m counting decades I thought were a lot further away.

However, putting those thoughts aside, at the moment, snow is falling outside, covering everything in white. The fire is on, Christmas Carols are playing, a cup of coffee sets on the table next to me. My husband and I will put up our tree this afternoon even though no one will see it except us. We plan on a special Christmas Eve dinner for the two of us. I’ll attend Mass Christmas day alone. There will be the phone calls, the good wishes, and photos.

Melancholy doesn’t rule the season even though it does promote reminiscing. Contentment is the word I would choose, a slowing down from the hectic former years, a quiet time for reflection and praise-giving for past blessings, current blessings, and future blessings.

I hope your season is filled with peace and joy however you spend the holidays. If you are alone, my prayers are with you. Remember, we are never really alone. God is there in every situation, every season, every holiday.  

Merry Christmas.

Is Home truly where the heart is?

What if your heart is in two different places? I love our home here in Idaho. The house has many aesthetic features I never thought I’d own and the Treasure Valley is beautiful as well. Boise is known as The City of Trees and is edged by the Boise and the Owyhee Mountains. The climate is mild, relatively speaking for a northwestern area. We have almost two hundred days of sunshine a year. Considering we do have three months of winter, that’s a lot of sunshine.

The other plus, Idaho doesn’t harbor painful memories as my hometown in Oregon does. I don’t drive around a corner and get slapped in the face by a reminder of one of many heartaches. Both the climate and the environment is healthier for me here in the Treasure Valley of Idaho.

However, my closest friends and family are in Oregon, a seven-hour drive through deserts and mountains without the benefit of a freeway and very few towns. The distance is marked in hours from one landmark to another. It is a trip no one takes on a regularly, only once a year, maybe twice at best.

A Less Than Perfect Christmas

TV and movies depict the epitome of Christmas: the perfect tree with piles of presents, mom and dad smiling and loving, siblings being kind and respectful to each other and their parents. At least that was what Holywood used to portray, and what everyone wanted. Now? I don't know. I haven't watched family sitcoms in a long time and don't know what kind of family life they portray. I suspect it isn't the Cleavers.

Most families fall short of the ideal family - if there is such a thing - and the holidays can be very stressful when old wounds (and new ones) can't be laid aside. My family is no different.

We were close once, at least I thought so. However, recent events indicate I wore rose colored glasses and didn't see the truth - until now. My own pain has opened my eyes and I  can now recognize, and empathize, with other families coping with dysfunction and the holidays. I don't have any solutions or any suggestions on how to fix what is broken. But, God offered me His opinion on the matter.

While praying over my family situation, this scripture came to mind: "Do not think that I came to send peace upon the earth: I came not to send peace, but the sword. For I came to set a man at variance against his father, and the daughter against her mother, and the daughter-in-law against her mother-in-law. And a man's enemies shall be they of his own household." Matthew 10: 34-37.

The Miracle Turkey

This Thanksgiving my husband and I are thankful for the impossible gift of a home. Every stumbling block evaporated and we will close on our new home next week. As I wrote previously in Our Gordian Knot, the difficulties surrounding this were an impregnable fortresses only God could extract us from.

As I fell to my knees in thanksgiving, another memory surfaced, and given this particular feast day, I want to pull one story from the archives and share once again. Although this did not occur on Thanksgiving, it did involve a Turkey and I have not looked at one quite the same since this incident. God does indeed unravel our Gordian Knots, clothes us, pays our bills, and sometimes does the extraordinary through the very ordinary.

We were flat broke with several more days to payday. With three kids to feed and a pantry nearly bare, things looked pretty grim. I mentioned my concern to a close friend at work.

"Remember when God paid your insurance? If He will do that, he will surely feed your family as well. Trust Him."

She then told me this story.  

The Night of the Banshee

Bill brought Rusty home the day after Christmas, the year of the record snowfall, a plump white puppy too cute to resist, filled with an abundance of exuberance. The two were best buds from the first night.

Ten years later, I was the Interloper who came onto the scene mid-way into the act and it was not love at first sight, not on Rusty’s side of the equation. Oh, he was charming enough during the initial greetings, it was later, after Bill and I sat down on the couch to watch a movie that his jealousy showed. 

He wormed his way between us, giving me a look that said, "No one comes between me and my Dad."

When Bill gently moved him to the other side of the couch, he got down, shot us an insulted look and headed for the bedroom. I did not think much about it, but I should have. My purse was lying on the bed.  

Not Peace?

Do not think that I came to send peace upon earth: I came not to send peace, but the sword.  Matthew 14:34

For those of us seeking and praying for peace, these are harsh words. The text goes on to say there will be strife among families as well as neighbors and anyone who loves father, mother or siblings more than God is not worthy of Him.

 In Matthew 10: 16:23 Jesus further reveals the turmoil Christians will face. The brother also shall deliver up the brother to death, and the father the son: and the children shall rise u against their parents, and shall put them to death.

In light of these passages, my personal experience this past week should not be such a shock. Family issues related to religion and politics and co-worker provocations knocked me off my feet and sent me reeling. I have tried to swallow my anger with limited success. The above scripture continues with the assurance that the kindnesses we do will not be without reward. Does holding my tongue and restraining my anger constitute a kindness? In some cases, absolutely, to myself as well as others.

A recent meditation from Richard Rohr suggests we rush around hanging onto our nothing by any means available, including anger, violence, lying, and theft. What exactly do we think we hold onto? In my case, my way of life, my possessions - my pride. After years of attempting to relinquish my desire for anything but God, I still cling to things, still cling to my ego.

How wise Jesus was to remain silent in the presence of his accusers. Anything He said would be used to further inflame the crowd. The same is true of many of our personal situations. In the instances mentioned above, any comment I made spurred more insults and arguments.  Silence was the only way to cool the fire, on the outside anyway. I seethed for days at the false accusations and insults, until God pointed out my error.

Jesus was right when he said all sin comes from a man's heart. It is what lies hidden in our hearts that define who we really are. The situation isn't hopeless. Through prayer, God can change our hearts. He can change stone to compassion. The trick is to keep praying, to keep trying and not give up when we fail or those brandishing the sword seem to be winning.

Will vigilant prayer change anything? Something will change, that is a guarantee, even if it is only my heart. The above passage brought a degree of solace. When I stand up for my faith and for my principles, in either word deed -or silence- I can expect to be insulted, and to be the target of others' anger. What I need to guard against is my own hate, my own anger.

God has promised whatever we seek, we will find. I have made a vow to seek peace, not necessarily in the world around me, but in my heart. I mean to curb my anger at injustices, replacing that emotion with prayer and action, where and when I can.  Jesus didn't swing a physical sword, inflicting wounds on those deserving His justice, and I am personally glad, because I too would fall under that sword. Instead, He prayed for those who afflicted Him, even from the cross. He did so without hate or anger and He expects no less from me. It's a tall order, but I am willing to try.

This morning, I lay my sword aside and pray for those who hurt and chose to inflict that hurt onto others. I pray not for peace in the world but for peace in every heart, beginning with mine.

Treasures and Priorities

The crash, followed by silence meant trouble.  I rushed into the kitchen and immediately saw the shattered plate on the counter. My eyes then flew to my husband. He stood by the sink running water over the fingers on his right hand.

"Are you hurt?"

"Burned my hand pretty good."

"Oh, Honey. Are you alright?"

"I'll know in a minute."

"What happened?"

"I didn't realize I'd turned the burner on under the plate and when I touched the plate, it of course burned me. I pushed the plate off the burner, but it shattered when it touched the counter."

"Were you cut?"

"No. Just burned."

I looked at the shattered plate. It was a piece of Franciscan China given to me forty years ago as a wedding present. Although that wedding ended in divorce, it had been given to me by my family and I treasured it. Since marrying Bill, pieces, mostly dinner plates, had been gradually disappearing. The set was now down to only five dinner plates out of the original eight. I had not heard the story behind the other disappearances, and could only wonder at how they met their demise. 

I pushed those thoughts aside and turned back to my husband. Large blisters emerged on all five of his finger tips.

"Honey, you really should put some burn cream on those and then bandage them."

"I'll think about it."

"And,if you go to the doctor, he will give you this amazing antibiotic cream that will immediately reduce the pain as well as protect your burns from infection. I really think you should go."

"I'll give it a little longer and then see."

I knew it was useless push any further, and with misgivings dressed and headed to work. As I drove, I thought of the plate, and could hear my mother cautioning me to be careful with my things. As a result of her advice I have many things I have kept safe for years, until I met Bill. He isn't purposely hard on things, but he is like the proverbial bull in my china shop. 

The silverware set I had received along with the china was now gone. Spoons kept disappearing until there were only four left out of a set of sixteen. Bill eventually confessed to accidentally grinding them in the garbage disposal. He has a habit of putting all the dirty dishes in the same side of the sink with the disposal and the teaspoons are short enough to disappear into the opening. Lying unseen, they become victims to the steel blades.

After his confession about the silverware, I stated, "Honey, I've had that set for forty years!"

His response indicated how different our thought patterns and priorities were. "Well, I guess it was about time you got a new set."

This comment left me speechless, and acutely aware my priorities are not always in the right order. I sometimes laid up the very treasures Jesus had warned against. Certainly I should be a good steward and not be careless with the things I am given, but they are not to be treasured above family - or God. And, Bill was right. All my priceless treasures can be replaced. Maybe not with anything identical, but definitely replaced with something able to provide the same function. That isn't true of God, or my family. They are irreplaceable treasures far more important than a piece of china, or a picture or any other keepsake.

I will admit, it wasn't any easy lesson. I was very tempted to mourn over the demise of that beautiful plate, the symbol of a  treasured gift, and it took some effort to treasure the giver over the gift. One final thought settled the matter.

When God calls me home to Him, I don't want to be remembered as the woman who had an entire set of unbroken china in her cupboard. I'd rather be remembered as the woman who loved God and her family.

Now when I look at that china set (and at our new silverware), I think of priorities and where mine need to be.