Bringing Faith to Life
Archive for December, 2014
Sketching angels that are bigger than life
110 years
Ah, the clean slate of a new year. Fresh off the Christmas holiday, we’re feeling good about ourselves. Time to activate on the new year’s resolutions. Weight loss? Exercise? Quitting that bad habit? Nah, let’s not bother with the small stuff. Let’s go big. “Seek first his Kingdom and his righteousness and all these things will be given to you as well.” (Matthew 6:33) That ought to take care of it. If want the Kingdom life complete with all the amenities, all I have to do is follow Jesus.
Such a bold resolution, but my track record thus far is not so good. I mean, while I’m busy looking into the distance for what Jesus would do, I’m fumbling the things at hand. I see his patience with children, his compassion for the sick, his attention to those in need, but it’s not even noon and I’ve already raised my voice, shelved my empathy and affixed my headphones so I can tune out all the whining. It looks so easy when Jesus does it, and so messy when I get hold of it.
This Christmas I discovered a wonderful tool that planted an idea and gives me the hope of a strategy. Of course there were angels involved. These angels began in 1997 when my husband Scot, the amateur woodworker, designed some “lawn ornaments” as Christmas decorations. He, not being one to settle for small projects, designed and constructed three 4-foot tall wooden angels. Complete with wings, hymnals and a working electric candle, these white painted cherubs, must be pieced together and staked up each year as they take their place on our little grassy knoll.
The Pantograph. Here’s more about how it works: http://www.highlandwoodworking.com/woodworking-tips-1104apr/pantograph.html
This year, I found out their secret. They weren’t drawn free hand as I had imagined but were traced via pantograph from a design ordered from a wood shop catalog. Aha! Using this magical tool, one only need trace over the original design and the device reproduces the image perfectly in a much larger size. You simply focus on what’s at hand and let the pencil re-trace the image, all courtesy of (more…)
Nothing brings light like a child, or acting like one
0What if by “you are the light of the world” Jesus really meant,”Go, lighten your world?”
Not shine light on dark things. Not draw attention with your sparkle. Not even ‘reflect My light,’ because He knew the day would come when the dark would grow darker and the Christ light would seem dimmer.
What if, ‘you are the light’ didn’t mean we’ve got illumination? What if it meant, go play. Go bring joy. Go and bring the fun with you. The world needs light-ening. It needs the sparkle and glimmer of laughter. It needs hopping and skipping. It needs jump rope and sidewalk chalk. It needs puppies and play things, doll houses and imagination. It needs pure, unadulterated whimsy. It needs all those things we do for no good reason, except the joy.
Have we forgotten how to play?
Have we become so engrossed in figuring things out that we have lost the wonder, the mystery, the magic?
Perhaps our light is not meant to be a bright beacon, but a spark. A lighting of life, a lightening of life, a load-lifting, effervescence that giggles, then chuckles, then breaks into guffaw. Even in a quiet place, especially in a silent place. That silent and holy night 2000 + years ago certainly was not quiet. That new little tike may have been smiling sweetly for the wise men, but silent, I don’t think so. He was a reason for celebration. Surely, there was whooping and hollering and dancing and singing. Heck, the whole heavenly host would have made a tremendous racket! Peace was not quiet it was a glorious uproar.
No wonder Santa Claus came along so we could have Rudolph and Frosty and jingle our bells in a one horse open sleigh. We need some lightening up! This child that was born is God’s answer to the darkness. That’s all the Light we need. He’s waiting for us to go out and play, and bring the joy with us.
Who in the world would dance and sing and celebrate in times like these? Well us, of course. Joy does that. That’s the child in each of us. Can we all be THESE kids?
I don’t create, I rearrange
3I am not creative.
I do not create
something from nothing.
That was done once,
only once.
I rearrange.
Been rearranging
since the beginning
of me.
Today, I give thanks for the gift of creativity. The desire to look at a thing and all that surrounds it and try out the combinations. What goes here? What fits there. How would these work if they were together? This isn’t working, how can I help it? How can I adjust it, reorganize it, so it clicks. So it operates. So it runs full steam ahead.
Life is a puzzle. I am the puzzler.
I do not create
something from nothing.
I create
something from something.
And that creates me.
Select, Elite or Chosen?
0“That I am chosen to minister means to let other people discover that they are chosen, too.” ~ Henri Nouwen
For so many of us, chosen takes us back to that moment on the playground when the captains were choosing up sides. The best kids go first. The worst were saved for last. It was those same few kids that always had to wait for the their names to be called. That took patience and fortitude, but selection was guaranteed because everyone got to play.
Those were the old, shall we say good old, days when picking teams was simple. Self-selection, even by peers, seemed much better than being assigned to a roster. It was the way we kept things fair. Split up the “good” players and the “bad” so no team had all of either.
Somewhere along the way, as playground gave way to organized sports, adults started forming the rosters. Players were selected by coaches but picked according to rounds in the draft in an effort to keep things even and encourage strong competition during the season.
Somehow regular seasons gave way to all-stars, then travel teams, then select and now elite versions of those teams. You were picked for all stars, selected (obviously) for select, and recruited for elite. Each one was a step up the ladder of chosen. How different those words: selected and chosen.
To select an apple from the bin I pick it up, give it a squeeze, turn it over in my hand, and if there are no mushy spots and there is no evidence of worm holes, I put it in my basket. Selection is simple. But chosen, now that means I have given serious consideration to all of the options, evaluated every characteristic, and diligently sorted until I have found the one and only, the most special, the one certainly meant to be mine.
Perhaps it is this terminology that upends us in the youth sports arena today. “What! You didn’t choose MY child?!” She’s special, talented, the best kid out there. And of course she is. Each parent knows their kid is special, select, chosen, gifted. Getting on the elite team doesn’t confirm this, just as being cut from the team doesn’t deny it. But the positioning of our precious ones on stratified teams somehow misses the point. I mean, when did it become fashionable to be “elitist” anyway?
I much prefer the lesson taught to me by 7 and 8 year old soccer players. At the end of the season we voted on “superlatives.” I gave them a few ideas, but generally they were instructed to assign a “best _______” to each of their teammates. Some were silly, some were more serious, all of them were complimentary and were voted on completely by the team. No coaches. No parents. Just kids.
Each season, I would tally the votes, and while a few kids got creative (ie. the most likely to have her laces untied) most were a true reflection of the recipient: best smile, most friendly, happiest, best shooter, fastest, and so on. The funny thing was, I always had at least one kid who’s list would have multiple teammates voted best at the same thing. In a child’s eyes, it’s perfectly normal to have 3 players chosen as best shooter, best goalie, best smile or even MVP. Why stop at just one best?
One day, the quantified, ranked, ordinal world breaks in on all of us. The 7 and 8 year-old in us learns that there can be only one superlative. I guess that’s why our chosen-ness is so hard to embrace. Me? I’m not best at anything. Maybe chosen doesn’t mean best at or even better than, rather we’ve been selected, hand-picked, and identified as just the right one.
For what? Well, that’s what life after 7 is all about.
Open Letter to Santa
0
Dear Santa
That’s as far as I got on my letter. I don’t remember the last time I wrote a letter to Santa. But this year I have pledged to do one thing each day that a kid would do. Of course a kid would write a letter to Santa, so here it sits on my desk, its red and green letters staring back at me.
Why is it so difficult to write to Santa?
- because I am not a kid? Maybe, but there are things on my Christmas list… why not write them?
- because what I want doesn’t come from a store? Nice try, but that’s rationalization. Can’t I still ask?
- because I don’t know where to begin. Now we’re getting somewhere.
The traditional, “I have been good this year” doesn’t cover all the bases. Can I lie to Santa? If he’s keeping a naughty and nice list, surely he knows all the not too nice things I did or said or didn’t do and lied about. So…
I have tried to be good this year but you know, it’s hard.
Stop stalling and get to the LIST!! What’s the harm in asking? But… isn’t asking selfish? Oh my goodness, what kid ever thinks about THAT? My adult-ness is disabling. I hope Santa understands.
So let’s ease into this… (after you bring the stuff for the kids and the dogs and my husband – because I want them to be happy – and after you bring stuff for people who really need stuff… if there is some extra room in your bag and it won’t weigh down your sleigh or be an undue burden for your tiny reindeer, could you…)
Oh my goodness how I avoid this conversation. Asking for what I really want, even if I am not sure I believe Santa can give it to me, is nearly impossible. Until I get started. Then it all tumbles out. I’m already at #8 before I realize that this list is a prayer. Item upon item are things I dearly, dearly long for. Specific things. And just for a moment it doesn’t seem selfish at all, it seems real, and I am not ashamed to ask.
#8. Bring me courage and nerve to speak up for these kids, even if it means risking my reputation.
Apparently, we need to ask for what we want so we can see what we really need.
I guess that about does it for this year, Santa. You know, you’re easier to talk to than the guy who could actually bring me these things. Why is that? Why, when I was a kid, was this so easy?
Santa, by any chance do you know Jesus? If you do, can you pass along my list?
Thank you and Merry Christmas!
Love,
Wendy
Now. Send or don’t send? Oh, this adult-ness is gonna take some time to get over!
Call me Classic, But Don’t Call Me Old
1When my kids call me “classic,” it’s their not-so-veiled way of calling me old.
While growing older is something I can’t avoid, and don’t want to, given the alternative, old is not a way I want to be, especially not at Christmas.
It used to be easy to do kid-stuff when our children were small. Our Christmas season was filled with holiday fun for them. Getting the tree, decorating, baking cookies, caroling, pageants, parties, stringing lights or popcorn, making crafts, shopping, wrapping … oh, and keeping secret what was under the tree. That might have been the best part of all because it invited those little wondering minds to sneak under the tree when they thought I wasn’t looking to snoop, look at tags and maybe even give that box a shake or two. What delight there is in a child’s wonder! Some things never get old.
Somehow, though, as I have gotten older, the preparations have lost their luster. The kids do their own thing and their Christmas lists have gotten shorter. The gifts are more expensive, more detailed, and often just a request in an email link so I get just the right thing. After all, you can’t count on old mom to know where to get the latest in fashion, fad or technology. Gone are the snooping, the shaking and the secrets. When did we lose the wonder?
This year, however, we have puppies. Two adorable, energetic, exhausting, did I say lovable puppies, and they are full of mischief. The world is their play-thing; everything is for investigating, nibbling, tugging, splashing, eating, or pouncing on. Play is their purpose. Wonder is their world. 
When did I lose this? Can it be retrieved? That’s when I came across this in a magazine on my counter:
“Once a day, do what a kid would do.”
I could do this. I could … jump in the leaves, roll down the hill, splash in the puddle, gallop up the driveway… I could let play back in, classic play, simply by asking ‘what would a kid do?’ A kid would look at the lights in the sky and wonder if they could ever fly there. A kid would listen to the shrill whistle of a bird and wonder how a tiny animal could be SO LOUD. A kid would smell the smoky winter air and wonder which neighbor had a fire going and whether there were marshmallows.
Somehow, doing what a kid does even has me wondering what a kid thinks. The recipe? Fond memories, a still vivid imagination, some zany puppies, and an Advent pledge: “once a day, do what a kid would do.”
Unfortunately, what was so easy when the kids were small, now takes dedicated effort. So far I am resisting the urge to Google ‘how to be a kid.’ After all, spontaneity is the door to childhood and wonder is the key. I am putting my foot down: this Advent, I refuse to be an old fart. Wait, can I say that? Why yes, I’m a kid.
If kid gets too hard, maybe I’ll channel a puppy or two. Do you know the best thing about puppies? Even when they are engrossed in tussling and tugging on each other’s ears, they stop and run to you in sheer delight whenever you enter the room. Maybe that’s what will grow in me this Advent season, sheer delight when I see my Master coming.
Here’s the challenge: once a day, do what a kid would do. Of course, my kids will be completely embarrassed by me. Someday, when they have kids, I hope they’ll understand.
“Truly I tell you, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.” ~ Matthew 18:3
Prayer for Hope and Strength
1Almighty God,
You reach into the darkness with hope, truth and light. Stretch out your strong hand in this situation, in our circumstance, in your world. Hold and rescue those who have suffered. Let your almighty love move mountains, cross seas and breathe life into the darkest places.
Light that redeems.
Light that restores.
Light that heals.
Light that protects.
Light that saves.
There is nothing higher, stronger or greater than your love.
We trust in you.