My Favorite Christmas Memory . . .

 

There is a quiet lull at Kirkhaven right now.  The turkey is in the oven,  casseroles and salads are assembled, and a mountain of potatoes have been peeled and diced for their traditional garlic mashing.  My husband is outside splitting wood so our Christmas Eve fireplace will crackle warmly all evening.

Later it will be busy and loud. 

Later friends and family will be laughing and fellowshipping around a greenery-bedecked table. 

Later three poodles and one frisky bird-dog-puppy will be dutifully keeping watch for any dropped morsel (or any secreted tidbit) of deliciously aromatic Christmas Eve feast.  

But right now Kirkhaven is quiet, so I have a moment to fulfill a promise I made to my dear friend Janice Lewis before the weekend celebration begins.

Janice posted a suggestion on facebook and I promised to reply.  She asked people to share a special Christmas memory they had.  I answered that I was working on a reply and would post it soon.  So here is my answer, dearest Janice.  Here is my favorite Christmas memory:

Now in those days a decree went out from Caesar Augustus, that a census be taken of all the inhabited earth.  This was the first census taken while Quirinius was governor of Syria.  And everyone was on his way to register for the census, each to his own city. 

Joseph also went up from Galilee, from the city of Nazareth, to Judea, to the city of David which is called Bethlehem, because he was of the house and family of David, in order to register along with Mary, who was engaged to him, and was with child.  While they were there, the days were completed for her to give birth.  And she gave birth to her firstborn son; and she wrapped Him in cloths, and laid Him in a manger, because there was no room for them in the inn.

In the same region there were some shepherds staying out in the fields and keeping watch over their flock by night.  And an angel of the Lord suddenly stood before them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them; and they were terribly frightened.  But the angel said to them:

 "Do not be afraid; for behold, I bring you good news of great joy which will be for all the people; for today in the city of David there has been born for you a Savior, who is Christ the Lord.  This will be a sign for you: you will find a baby wrapped in cloths and lying in a manger."

And suddenly there appeared with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God and saying, 

"Glory to God in the highest,

And on earth peace among men with whom He is pleased."

When the angels had gone away from them into heaven, the shepherds began saying to one another, "Let us go straight to Bethlehem then, and see this thing that has happened which the Lord has made known to us."  So they came in a hurry and found their way to Mary and Joseph, and the baby as He lay in the manger.  When they had seen this, they made known the statement which had been told them about this Child.  And all who heard it wondered at the things which were told them by the shepherds.

But Mary treasured all these things, pondering them in her heart. 

The shepherds went back, glorifying and praising God for all that they had heard and seen, just as had been told them.   Luke 2:1-20

The Christmas story is so simple. 

So elegant. 

So plain. 

It is the story of the King of the Universe . . . the Perfect Lamb of God . . . being born in a lowly stable. 

Sleeping in a feeding trough. 

Visited and venerated by rough, earthy shepherds.

It wasn’t what people were expecting, however.

It wasn’t exactly how people would have planned it. 

There were things missing from the picture

. . . a warm, snuggly cradle

. . . a fire at the hearth

. . . family and friends gathered to celebrate

. . . the smell of savory meat roasting on the fire

. . . the rich, comfortable sound of bread being kneaded and baked. 

The prophets had spoken of an unusual birth and an unusual life and an unusual death for the coming messiah. . . but somehow people had expected something different. 

Something more familiar. 

Something deserving of a king.

I always decorate my Christmas tree with gold and red and white.  We have lots of lights and snowmen and greenery scattered about the house.  We always have a pile of gifts under the tree.  And we always eat a Christmas feast.  There are tons of wonderful memories I have collected from all of my lovely Christmases.

But the thing I remember most is the brown of the stable. 

And the rough wood of the manger. 

The shepherds who saw angels. 

And the quiet, pensive expression of a young mother holding a tiny, swaddled King. 

My King.

Because sometimes Christmas isn’t always perfect. 

Perhaps some people we love will be absent from our Christmas table.

Perhaps harsh words still echo in our minds. 

Perhaps our Christmas greetings and our heartfelt words of blessings are not welcome messages to some friends and family we love. 

Perhaps there are things missing from the picture this year.

Some households don’t always look like a Normal Rockwell painting.

But the King is there.

The One born in a manger.

The One who lived much heartache.

The One who died on a cross.

Who has believed our message?

And to whom has the arm of the Lord been revealed?

For He grew up before Him like a tender shoot,

And like a root out of parched ground;

He has no stately form or majesty

That we should look upon Him,

Nor appearance that we should be attracted to Him.

He was despised and forsaken of men,

A man of sorrows and acquainted with grief;

And like one from whom men hide their face He was despised,

and we did not esteem Him.
Surely our griefs He Himself bore,

And our sorrows He carried;

Yet we ourselves esteemed Him stricken,

Smitten of God, and afflicted.

But He was pierced through for our transgressions,

He was crushed for our iniquities;

The chastening for our well -being fell upon Him,

And by His scourging we are healed.

All of us like sheep have gone astray,

Each of us has turned to his own way;

But the Lord has caused the iniquity of us all

To fall on Him.
He was oppressed and He was afflicted,

Yet He did not open His mouth;

Like a lamb that is led to slaughter,

And like a sheep that is silent before its shearers,

So He did not open His mouth . . .

Yet He Himself bore the sin of many,

And interceded for the transgressors.   Isaiah 53

My favorite Christmas memory, dearest Janice, is Him.

The King of the Universe come to earth as a tiny babe

. . . born in a manger

. . . destined to die on a cross. 

He is always there as I decorate my home for this joyous season. 

He is always there as I buy and wrap the gifts. 

He is always there as I prepare the meal and light the Christmas candles.

He is always there when my home fills with family and friends.

And He is always there when things are missing.

Him.

It's Him I remember most.

And I treasure the memory.

When there is beauty and love and celebrating,

I can feel Him laughing.

And when there is heartache and sorrow and pain,

I can feel His tender Love.

In all of it He is there.

Glory to God in the Highest!

On earth peace . . . goodwill . . . to all!

Can you see Him too?

We

Thursday, December 17th is our wedding anniversary.  I have been married for more than half of my life.  And as I think about our years together, I am not feeling sentimental or sappy or teary.  I am not wondering, "Wow, where has the time gone?"  Instead, a rich, deep contentment fills my heart and wraps around my soul like a soft, warm blanket.  I have been married for 26 years to my best friend.  What could be better than that?

I know that when you are young you dream about a "knight in shining armor" sweeping you off your feet.  But I am older now, and fairy tales just seem too shallow and crass.  I don't need to be charmed and dazzled.  Things like that are too fragile.  I prefer real things, like honesty, generosity, and humor.  And enduring things like strength of character and wisdom.  My husband is much more real and much more interesting than a storybook prince.  He is a very good man.

I treasure the memories we have together.  And I love the history we have built.  But the things I enjoy most are the moments we have now.  This day.  This project.  This fireside chat.  I have time to savor things now.  These just might be our best years yet.

So here are some things that I love about us right now.


Only I can finish his sentences.
Only he might guess where I have lost my reading glasses or my keys . . . again.
Only I know when he is really happy or when he has been really hurt.
Only he knows the difference between my "happy quiet" and my "sad quiet."

We can be just as content sitting together on our back porch as we are sitting side-by-side on the deck of a cruise ship.
We are both a bit eccentric.
We both love beautiful things.
And we both find great satisfaction in a job well done.

We struggle through the hard things together and we relish the lovely things together.
We work together.We relax together.

Together is pretty much who we are.

I really have no idea what the future has in store,but I know that I want to spend it with my husband.
My best friend.

“We”
is so much richer and fuller
than just him
or just me.

And he loves me.
And I love him.
What could be better than that?

Cinderella with her prince and glass slipper never had it this good.

Psalms 46:10-11
Lesa K. Reid

Seeking But Not Striving

Puppies don’t pose.  They romp and pounce and chew.  They stick their noses into holes.  They chase after mysterious scents that only they can smell.  They rarely come when you call them.  They usually dash into places they shouldn’t.  Sometimes, for a split second, they might pause to wonder . . . but puppies do not pose. 

If you want to photograph a puppy, you have to turn your camera onto the “action” setting and just start clicking.  You’ll get tons of random pictures . . . blurred noses, floppy ears, waggy backsides . . . Getting just the right picture framed just the right way is a futile endeavor.  Composing a photograph of a puppy is impossible.  Nothing about a puppy is composed.

But if you are looking for something other than a perfect composition . . .

maybe something funny . . .

or something sweet . . .

or something nostalgic . . .

or something poignant . . .

then you will probably find it.

Mixed in with all the uncoordinated, mis-aligned, uncalculated, blurred images that you snapped on the run, you will find some treasures that you never could have orchestrated.  Moments that simply happened . . . and you simply happened to catch them.

But if you are not willing to lay aside the schedule

and turn off the television

and walk away from the computer

and set aside the cell phone

and find a place where a leash isn’t necessary

and get your shoes muddy

and look for more than you can see

and hope for more than you have known

and believe that an aimless stroll with a puppy isn’t wasted time

then you won’t catch a thing.

"Ask, and it will be given to you;

seek, and you will find;

knock , and it will be opened to you.

For everyone who asks receives,

and he who seeks finds,

and to him who knocks it will be opened."

Jesus 

Matt 7:7-8 (NASB)

Perhaps the most daring thing we can do is admit that life isn’t about perfect compositions.   

The real beauty is unscripted.

And the real gift is knowing the Giver.

And the real art is knowing what really matters.

Cease striving and know that I am God . . .

Psalms 46:10 (NASB)

 

 

 

Psalms 46:10-11
Lesa K. Reid