Done With Me

I do it every time. Even during a Christmas season in which I am intentional about slowing down, in spite of ramping up the expectations by telling other people about my intentions, no matter that I definitely plan not to, I do it: I GET UPTIGHT.

Making lists helps me to feel more relaxed, probably because it gives me at least some sense of being in control of things. If I can pull down items out of the thick, swirling nebula of Everything I Could, Would, and Should Do, and get them down on paper in concrete terms, I don't feel quite so anxious. This year, though, in spite of intentionally slowing down and in spite of making numerous lists, I started feeling the Christmas-planning-and-preparation crunch around the middle of December. 

So timely, then, was the reading for the day from Ann Voskamp's book "The Greatest Gift" on Dec. 16: "...we are most prepared for Christ, for Christmas, when we confess we are mostly not prepared. Rest here. There is only room in us when we are done with us." 

It's my annual tradition to read through "The Greatest Gift" from Dec. 1-25, marking passages that are meaningful to me that particular year, as well as answering the questions in the daily Moment for Reflection sections. 

Because I can read back over my notes in the book from year to year, I am beginning to notice themes that connect my present circumstances and wisdom from the Book (through Ann's words). Two basic themes I see recurring are 1. I am not enough 2. He is. 

In view of my yearly notations, it seems that I should expect uptightness over Christmas time. I should also expect HisLightness to be offered. Why am I surprised by both?

Perhaps Ann has experienced both, as well. She writes as though she has. There were other timely gems that I treasured during my slowing down times with her Advent book:

"You are most prepared for Christmas when you are done trying to make your performance into the gift and instead revel in His presence as the Gift."

"You most take hold of God when you simply receive Him in the moment taking hold of you. Taking hold of your unsure hand. Taking hold of your unseen needs. Taking hold of your unknown stress."

"We struggle to receive. Sometimes we are better givers than getters. Grace? For me? I don't have to bring anything? What if someone sees how empty I am? How I am not enough, how my gifts are not enough, how giving all I've got is never enough? ...your greatest gift is not your gifts, but your surrendered yes to be a space for God."

"Nothing is harder for capable people at Christmas than to simply come and receive."

I've made a mental list for myself:

Simple Reminders for an Uptight Dani

1. Rest. 

2. Receive.

3. Repeat.

One of my favorite gifts to receive this season is time spent with family. The following pics are a sampling of those times in the weeks surrounding Christmas. 

I enjoyed helping Kerra (a Junior Sunday School superintendent) choose, purchase, and wrap Christmas gift books for the preschool children at our church. 

One evening when Kayleen & Carlin were at our place for the holidays, we took them out for supper to a local Swiss Chalet restaurant. In a sweet moment of serendipity, we met Ken's sister Colleen and her family in the parking lot when we arrived. Neither of our two families had known the other would be there! We were able to sit at the same table to enjoy our meals and conversation together. 

At the Kenites' Christmas gathering, Grandpa and Seth "played" several games of chess together.

Favorite family gathering games include Codenames.

At a meal during the Kenites Christmas Gathering we included our friend "Debbie", who was highly appreciative of the food and fellowship.

Ken's mom and sisters (Laurel, Janet, Colleen, Sharon) are wonderful ladies in my life!

These lovely young ladies are only two of the bunch of Martin Family nieces and nephews that has been accumulating over the years. Aren't I such a lucky aunt?

What gifts have you enjoyed receiving over the Christmas season this year?

A Picturesque Saturday Evening

 

We looked forward to it all week: spending a winter Saturday evening with Ricky and Jasmine. The invitation promised supper at their table, a walk in "their park" (how handy is it to have your apartment back onto one of your city's beautiful parks?), and the privilege of joining them in their evening Advent time. It did not disappoint! Ricky & Jasmine's first hospitality feature was handing us cups of hot apple cider to accompany us warmly on our chilly stroll through Waterloo Park. 

The festival of lights called Wonders of Winter is on right now in the park. We saw various arrangements of lights displaying anything from animals to storybook characters to biblical scenes. 

Among the many light displays, there was a wooden structure depicted as the Bethlehem stable. A special nativity scene inside took our eye, especially after it was pointed out that the carvings came from the Shepherd's Fields olive wood store in Bethlehem. We'd been to that very place on our trip to Israel a few years ago, and recognized the style of wooden nativity scene.

Back in Ricky & Jasmine's apartment, supper was a beautiful and tasty event.

I loved how Jasmine paired the cornbread and butter on one platter.

The chili-turned-taco-soup was perfect for a mid-December evening!

What a gorgeous dessert tray! The peanut butter balls or chestnuts or buckeyes - take your pick of terminology - were as delicious as they were intriguing of name. I googled buckeyes and discovered that they are named after the Ohio Buckeye, a tree in the chestnut family. The picture of buckeye nuts that popped up on my phone screen looked very much like the buckeyes on the plate.  

The moments after supper were filled with relaxing conversation, music, and reminiscing.

Joining Ricky's in their evening Advent time was a perfect way to end the day. To slow down, be still, listen, wait, watch, yearn, confess, grieve, rejoice. To pray and to sing. To embrace the Light. Together.

Christmas Casserole of Memories

Reflection is an important exercise in the slowing down theme. In the last few days I have thought back to some Christmas impressions and memories from my childhood. 

One thing I remember is Christmas candy. At Christmas time, Mom liked to buy a tin of Fanny Farmer candy to share around. It could take me a long time to decide on the one or two pieces I was allowed to pick during my turn. Such an array of colors, shapes, textures, and flavors to choose from! Would it be a hard, narrow bone-shaped one with a filling of soft sweet marrow? A big section of multi-colored bands ribboned into perfect interlocking waves? Or a tiny pink pillow of fruity tang? Maybe a striped minty oval? I'd hope it wouldn't cut my tongue in its sharp grooves if I wasn't careful enough in my sucking it down from big to little!

I asked my brother recently if he remembered The Choosing from the candy tin. Oh yes, he did remember reaching into that "casserole" of candy. 

Mom also liked making her own Christmas candy and cookies. It was the one time of year when she (or we) used her cookie press and made many tiny shortbreads in the form of trees, camels, stars, and hearts. Sometimes the dough was colored, and sometimes the plain cookies got colored with sugar or sprinkles on top. Some years she made raisin-filled cookies, which were two rolled out cookie dough layers baked together with a raisin mixture between. The top cookie often had a cut-out "window" in it that allowed the dark filling to show through nicely. We thought it was great stuff to be allowed putting the raisins through the hand-cranked meat grinder for the filling.  

Mom was often into a new hobby or craft around Christmas time. I remember her plastic canvas poinsettias, fine crocheted and starched snowflakes, and latch art creations. She'd love to learn a new art, talk about it to anyone she met, teach her daughters to do it, and/or gift it to someone. The photo at the beginning of this post depicts such a case. That particular Christmas, she enthusiastically roped us girls into making baskets out of fabric-covered ice cream buckets. My dad and brothers pretended the finished products were more like upside-down frilly pioneer bonnets! 

I also have fond memories of Christmas caroling. We'd meet at the church, having bundled up really well against the frigid Wisconsin cold of a December night. After getting put into groups for caroling in certain places like Northwoods Beach, or Stone Lake or Peninsula Road, our designated group would pile into warmed-up vehicles and head out for our first stop. We'd traipse through a snowy yard and crowd up to the house beside an cracked-open window or door and begin singing to the elderly people inside. After a few carols, we'd wind up with We Wish You a Blessed Christmas, including "Good tidings we bring to you and your king..." (well, for all we knew, their kin actually was royalty) and the people would give us their teary-eyed gratitude and sometimes a package of chocolates. At the end of caroling, when our toes and fingers were past feeling and our hearts were full feeling, we went back to the church or some church family's house and had hot chocolate and other goodies.

Christmas programs at school were always a big deal, too. We might have tried keeping our special singing or speaking parts a secret from Mom and Dad, but I'm sure they ended up finding out much of what was ahead during our times of "going through the whole program" at home. After the program proper was over, the parents would come down to the school room in the church basement and view the art work we students had done on the chalkboards, and sometimes there was a gift exchange among the students and sometimes a pinata, and always there were bags of treats passed out to the children - oranges, candies, nuts and popcorn balls. Always it was one noisy, exciting affair. 

I also remember getting sick around Christmas time. I think two Christmases in a row, I missed out on the fun program night because I had strep throat. One of those times, my twin was sick too, so I guess we could at least stay home and commiserate together. 

In our family, we always got some sort of gift for Christmas. In the lean years, it was one item that we children were supposed to share, such as a sled. Often our gifts were books or crafts, something to occupy our minds and hands. Later on, as we children got older, we started doing a gift exchange among family members. I think back then there was more emphasis put on homemade gifts than what there is now. It was tradition for us to have the Christmas story before the opening of gifts. Dad would read the account from Matthew or Luke. In my mind, the Christmas story never took so long to get through as then.

I'm curious - what are some memories in your Christmas casserole?

Resorting to Love

Ken and I are on an anniversary outing, although it is weeks after our anniversary proper. I can't think of a sweeter way to slow down this season. 

He booked a honeymoon cottage at a resort "up in the Muskokas" for three nights. The cabin is showing signs of age, but it is spacious and comfy. (perhaps not unlike our marriage?) Because of still-present pandemical restrictions being adhered to at this resort, no maids come to make up our rooms and no one bugs us for anything. We have the place. to. ourselves.  Perfect!

The afternoon we arrived, it was extremely windy. By evening, the stiff gales had knocked out the power in a neighboring town, which we discovered when we drove there to find a restaurant and here the whole town was black. Except for one Italian restaurant with twinkling, welcoming lights. The food at Che Figata was top-notch, and the waiter was friendly and attentive in just the right measure. Our charcuterie board for two had some unique and delicious garnishes such as powdered olive oil and fried (or was it roasted?) olive oil!

We've been doing a lot of walking. Yesterday we walked nine holes of golf. Ken described the imaginative drive and chip and putt of the ball at each hole. Of course, he ended with a score that made it the best round of golf ever for him. Because I got a kiss from him at each of the greens, it was my best golf round ever, too.

We've taken a number of selfies. I kept telling Ken that I don't like how I look in that hood - it makes me look like I have multiple chins. Instead of asking how many, (so gracious of him) he said that I should look that way because I'm a grandma. Well, I like being a grandma, but I don't like having lots of chins. So for some of the selfies, I put my hood down, but my neck still looks thick. I guess I should get some training on how to take selfies. 

We play lots of Boggle. Our games are very competitive. Ken has won the most games, but he is only 1 ahead. Not to brag or anything, but this means I am playing well.  

The skies and sunsets here are to brag about. This means that our Creator is doing all things well, and there are really no words. His love comes to us in countless ways. It is just so special to be able to take off a few days off to slow down and notice some of them.

In Pure Joy

A quote from my page-a-day calendar (themed For Women Who Do Too Much) took my eye recently: 

"I like to think of creation 

as happening

and not done

and the Creator 

experimenting with it

in pure joy

every day."

(author unknown / poetic form and capital "C" by me)

To me, the poem is both notable and quotable because its description seems so plausible. I love to imagine the Creator's pure and daily joy in His experimenting and it brings me joy to capture glimpses of His "experimenting" on camera. 

Here are a number of such captures from this week:

All of these photos were taken in or beside or around our house, along Apple Grove Road, or near the Mill Race Trail. We are simply surrounded by touches of our Creator's pure joy. Are you too? 

God Rest Ye Weary Women

God rest ye dear ones

~ who get the weary more than the merry part of Christmas

~ for whom December is a dark and dreary month wherein you just wish to get alone and weep for all the gathered losses of the past year

~ who have not enough reserve energy for navigating the tension, the indifference, the silent hostilities that are sure to show up at Christmas Dinner with the family

~ who were so looking forward to being with family after months (or years) of absence but whose plans have been dashed by pandemic-related restrictions of some kind

~ whose physical pain is intense or chronic, or both

~ who believe that your baby who cries half the night and your preschoolers who bicker half the day are not only stereotypical little people but terribletypical as well 

~ whose Christmas season will be the first one without the child or spouse or parent or good friend you lost this year

~ who are so bound to perfectionism that you want even your failures to come off looking pretty decent

~ who have had unspeakable things done to you

~ whose identity has long been tied to performing and producing - the more, the better

~ for whom Christmas will happen in a hospital at the bedside of a loved one dealing with cancer

~ whose mother-heart throbs with pain over the choices of a wayward child 

~ who are being held hostage, literally or figuratively

~ who compare yourselves among your co-workers' or inlaws' or peers' or you-name-thems' selves and feel you will never measure up

~ who aren't sure you have enough time or nerves to practice the school program on repeat these days, or enough hope that your students will truly get their act together before performance night

~ for whom Going Home For Christmas is only a dream and not a reality because your foreign mission station is too remote or your finances are too slim or your health and safety risk is too great to do so

You, weary ones, don't let anything bring you dismay, because Jesus Christ, your Savior - your Salvager - has come!

And, as Ann Voskamp puts it, your ache is not the last word, Jesus is.

Rest assured that He is your Comfort and Joy. 

Rest merry for He is your Present Gift.

Rest, dear ones, rest.

                        (for the heart-sisters I meet with regularly or irregularly and for those heart-sisters I have never met, but would like to)