A Christmas Story

I heard a different Christmas story this morning on Q Country 103.7, Ithaca, NY. I knew I had to share it. I’ll be paraphrasing since I was driving at the time.

I don’t know where it came from or who wrote it. In fact, if anyone knows, please let me know.

There was a man, a good, honest, upright soul, well respected for his integrity. But he was having a problem believing all this incarnation stuff about Jesus the churches were preaching. He just couldn’t understand.

Christmas Eve, he told his wife he wasn’t going to midnight services with her. He said he didn’t believe and didn’t want to be a hypocrite.

He told his wife to be careful since it was snowing as his wife and the kids left for church. He settled next to the fireplace to read.

All of a sudden, he heard a couple of thumps by his picture window. He thought it might be some kids throwing snowballs so he got up to investigate. Instead he saw a group of birds sitting and shaking in the snow. A couple must have run into the window, seeing the light and sensing the warmth.

He thought about it for a second, and remembered the barn where his kids kept their pony. So he put on his coat and galoshes and went out to the barn to open the door and turn on the light. Then he went to the birds, still shivering in the snow, but they didn’t recognize the light.

The man thought, maybe he could coax them by feeding them, so he went back inside and gathered some breadcrumbs, then laid a trail from the birds to the barn. Still nothing.

Then he thought he could persuade them to go to the warmth of the barn by circling them and gently swooshing them. But he quickly realized all he was doing was scaring the birds. They did not realize he was there to help, not hurt them.

So, he thought, if only I was a bird I could assure them I was a friend, not a foe. If only I was a bird I could communicate with them and lead them to the safety, security and warmth of the barn.

Just then, the church bells throughout his little town rang out. The man fell to his knees and said, “Now I understand.”

To all my believing — and non-believing — friends and followers, have a very Merry Christmas!

THOUGHT TO REMEMBER: The best gift of all is not found under the tree, but was nailed to the tree.

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Jimmy

There’s a new vehicle in the driveway … and my little red truck’s grille is a little out of joint.

IMAG0213First, a little background. I love tooling hither and yon in my little red truck … but it is a small, two-wheel drive Ford Ranger. It does have a standard transmission, which helps keep some semblance of control, but this is upstate New York and winters can be … well, unpredictable.

Even though I have used Red for winter forays, it really isn’t designed for wintry weather. Sure, there was the time we made it through a blizzard picking up papers north of the Thruway (the sun was shining and the pavement bare when I left the office). She was comfortable on the snow-packed back roads in Maine. And we were able to navigate through a slalom course on Route 95 in New Hampshire. No, Red wasn’t afraid of the snow, but it was challenging.

The first year I had her, she was my transportation so we made it work. But with the prospect of moving to Maine {still going to happen some day, but hasn’t yet}, I opted for a more winter-friendly Subaru Outback and for the last four years, Su was my winter vehicle of choice. And Red was good with that.

But I sold Su to my daughter, leaving me with Red. During the summer and fall, that wasn’t a problem. Red loved the weekly roller coaster ride up and down the hills {going down more than going up} of the Southern Tier and Pennsylvania as we picked up our newspapers.

But I knew the practical thing was to look for a more practical winter mode of transportation. So I kept my eye out for something with at least four wheel or all wheel drive.

IMAG0346Enter Jimmy … a  sleek black 2001 GMC Jimmy. It had a lot of miles on it {a location byproduct where the closest real grocery store — and just about everything else — is 20 miles away or better}. But it purred like a kitten and it was amazingly clean. So I took a chance.

Thus far, it’s been a good investment. I’ve had it for about a month and Jimmy and I have put on a couple of thousand miles, most coming on a trip last weekend to meet my great-granddaughter and reconnect with other family and friends. While I was able to navigate around Winter Storm Electra — got to Illinois ahead of it and back home after it — I did have to get through Erie, PA. Jimmy slugged through the steady snow without a hiccup. In his four wheel mode, he was ready, willing and able to forge his own tracks in the falling snow.

But, back to Red. She wasn’t happy with this interloper sitting next to her. In fact, she was downright angry … to the point a couple of days after Jimmy’s arrival, when I went out to assure her she was still a big part of my driving life, she wouldn’t turn over. There was no spark from the battery … not even a waning rrrurrrurrr. Dead. Like a doornail.

So I dutifully went out and bought her a new battery. After installing it, I sat behind the wheel and reasoned with her. I still love her. I still need her. She’s still important to me. I was only trying to protect her, reminding her of the tail light incident when my daughter slid into a guardrail.

And I turned the key to a full dash of lights and a welcomed vroooom.

So it appears all is good. I do try to alternate modes of transportation, and Red seems content sitting under a warm blanket of snow.

But, in retrospect, you have to wonder who reasons with a truck?

THOUGHT TO REMEMBER: Remember, nothing dries faster than a tear.

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Saying “I’m sorry”

Just before Karen died, she had been reading a book she received as a gift from JoAnn {don’t know who that is} by Rodale Press for Hallmark. It was actually for both of us, but Karen was the reader in the family.

The book was 50 things that really matter.  She didn’t get through all 50 … her last chapter was 32.

This book celebrates 50 of the simple things that really do matter in life. Within its pages are first person stories about the value of conversing over a good cup of coffee, the importance of hugs, the courage of living a simple life, the wisdom in a street musician’s words, the peace and relaxation in watching a candle flame.

I’ve been sharing some of these stories — the first person stories followed by my two cents worth — to encourage you, enlighten you and enrich your soul. But, most of all, I hope they may inspire you to see the real value in life.

This is the latest excerpt from 50 things that really matter.

One day, when I was in college, a shifty-looking character approached me in the student union with a leather jacket he wanted to sell. It was a beuty: buttery smooth cowhide, with artfully stitched seams and long leather fringes. Buffalo Bill Cody would have worn it proudly.

I can’t remember what the price was, but it was obviously too little for such a jacket. Even as I forked over the money, I knew something wasn’t right. Sure enough, a couple days later, the jacket;s real owner, a student about my age, approached me as I was on my way to class.

“That’s my jacket,” he said, “and I want it back.”

“No way,” I answered. “I paid for it and I have no idea if it’s yours. It’s mine.”

He didn’t challenge me, and I left, but the uneasiness I has about my new possession now had a visible face. A few days later, riding my bike across campus, I saw the real owner standing on the sidewalk. I rode over, took the jacket off, handed it to him, said I was sorry and rode off without another word. More than the weight of the jacket had been lifted from my shoulders.

We’re all human, which means that sometimes we do things we shouldn’t do or say things we shouldn’t say. Sometimes we realize too late that our actions have been hurtful to somebody else. When these hard times occur, the best response — the only response, really — is “I’m sorry.”

Owning up, promptly and forthrightly, helps the other person begin to heal. But just as important, it cleanses our own soul and sets us free.

That is a small price to pay for a clear conscience.

Doug Hill, 50 things that really matter, Rodale Press for Hallmark

You read a vignette like that and realize just how much of an impact this little book has. It’s not earth shattering. It’s taking an isolated incident out of history and putting it into a greater perspective. It’s realizing the world doesn’t revolve around me.

Doug may so many key points in so few words. But I think the key was putting a face on the “problem” or “incident.” How many times have we been tempted to do the wrong thing because we don’t or can’t visualize our gain is somebody else’s loss. If I’m “right” then someone else is “wrong.” We have to look that other person in the eye. We have to see the hurt to recognize just how culpable we are in piling on that hurt.

A jacket is just a thing. Doug knew he was getting a “steal” but never considered it was stealing until he saw the original owner.

Two words — “I’m sorry.”  They go a long way in healing — others and ourselves.

Thanks Doug … and thanks JoAnn for sharing 50 things that really matter .

THOUGHT TO REMEMBER: Sometimes the best thing to get off your chest is your chin.

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Wait for Christmas Rudolph

I don’t think I’m a Scrooge and I don’t think I’m related to the Grinch. But there is one aspect about this Christmas season that causes me pause. Christmas music.

I love the season. I love the lights. I love the movies — both the classics and the new made-for-TV fare. I love the anticipation and wonder in the youngun’s eyes. And I really get into the mood when the weather gets crisp with wisps of the white stuff in the air. I’m not usually fazed by holiday shopping or crowds … although, admittedly, I don’t do it often and I when I do, it’s usually during a blizzard or because I procrastinated. Let’s face it, snow storms and Christmas Eve day crowds are significantly thinned.

But I am getting tired of listening to Christmas music. Heck, it’s been around for about a month now … almost non-stop. I love Burl Ives version of Rudolph the Red Nose Reindeer, but if I hear it one more time today(!) I literally am going to scream. Many stations went to non-stop Christmas music programming before Thanksgiving. It doesn’t matter what genre … country, Christian, contemporary. It’s Christmas, Christmas, Christmas.

I don’t mind easing into the season. You know, regular radio programming interspersed with a Christmas song here or there, gradually increasing as we get closer to the big day. But we went from nothing to all Christmas well before Thanksgiving. And this year, it’s really been grating on my nerves.

THOUGHT TO REMEMBER: Keep your chin up when in trouble. It keeps your mouth closed.

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Five Minute Friday — Reflect

I got the memo. Lisa-Jo is taking the holidays off from Five Minute Friday. A group of us who love to throw caution to the wind and just write will be back in January.

But, before taking the hiatus, Lisa-Jo added one more prompt — REFLECT. You see, she was born in South Africa. Yesterday, Nelson Mandella died. And she, her husband and three children will be heading back to South Africa for Christmas. She has a connection. Her reflections are more relevant. I encourage you to read them at http://lisajobaker.com/2013/12/five-minute-friday-reflect/.

But here I go, offering my five minutes on the “bonus” prompt — REFLECT. The timer is set for five minutes {clock starts now}

This is a good time to stop and reflect, especially about these five minute Friday exercises.

It’s always a challenge getting your thoughts in order before writing. It’s a big challenge getting them organized for five minutes of writing. But over the past year I have had made some amazing discoveries — about the world, my fellow writers and journey partners, my self. Each week I try to take on the specific word and share some thought that somehow makes a difference. I know I’m not always successful, but I hope over the past year there have been some nuggets for readers to take with them.

There were some that generated interest — like REST (March 15) or HERE (April 12) — and others that fell flat — like IN BETWEEN (June 28) or CHERISH (Jan. 18).

Perfect? No.

Insightful? Not always.

Challenging? Always.

Fun? Definitely.

Writing this blog has been a catharsis for me and I hope some of the words make some sense to you as well.

Enjoy this Christmas season and remember to reflect on the reason for the season. It’s not all glitter and … STOP

… tinsel. It’s the present WE received.

THOUGHT TO REMEMBER:  Worry is the interest paid on trouble before it becomes due.

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It’s Time To Cook

Karen would have loved Facebook and blogging. Sure, she was plugged in to the Internet, but the social media would have been her friend.

Now, there is a lot of mis-information and drivel out there. But there are many interesting sites that would have been right up her alley. Specifically, faith-based blogs and recipes … luscious, appetizing recipes.

She certainly would have become BFFs with Christine at Texana’s Kitchen (http://texanaskitchen.com/). I would have had to suffer as the “taste tester” for such fare as Double Chocolate Millionaire’s Shortbread (http://lovefoodbrighton.wordpress.com/) or Banana & Walnut Cake With Rum Syrup Drizzle (http://britishblokescooking.wordpress.com/). She certainly would have tried making pies in jar (http://natureandlifenotes.com/) and Taco Puffs (http://foodlover23.wordpress.com/). She would have relished looking at thousands of recipe websites on Word Press and the millions just out there on the Internet. She would have liked those sites featuring homemakers or with a Christian perspective.

Those two topics — faith and food — were high on her list. And she took both seriously.

When it came to recipes, Karen was not a schooled chef, but a tried-and-true kitchen experimentor. The kitchen didn’t intimidate her and she wasn’t afraid to tweak recipes here and there. She learned her way around the cupboard, stove and oven from her grandmother with added help from my grandmother.

She helped bring cooks together with a four-year, award winning run as food editor at the Belvidere (IL) Daily Republican, then converted a 1950s motel stay into a bed and breakfast experience in New York. In between, she published her own Christian magazine, Manna {catch the food connection} and helped create the Junior Chronicle in Toledo.

She tried to “teach” her “pinch of this” technique to the kids. The boys were quick learners, but it took the girls a little longer to find their way — and confidence — around the kitchen. They have caught up … and have been tapping into her extensive library of cookbooks, cooking magazines and loose recipes.

She would have been proud … and my mouth is watering.

THOUGHT TO REMEMBER: Keep your fears to yourself. Share you courage with others.

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What? No Five Minute Friday?

What? No Five Minute Friday?

Lisa Jo Baker — our Five Minute Friday leader and muse — didn’t post a prompt this week. Horrors!

And she didn’t warn us! Or at least I didn’t get the memo.

I guess she felt Thanksgiving would impede some of us from our five minute exercise. In retrospect, she is probably right. I suspect we may be skipping a few more weeks as we head into the Christmas season.

But Lisa Jo did come up with something special … not so much for me but for her legion of faithful mother followers. So, for my five minute contribution, I’m just going to refer you to her link — aptly titled “The Tired Mother’s Holiday Creed.” It’s a good read … for everyone.

http://lisajobaker.com/2013/11/the-tired-mothers-holiday-creed/

Hope you enjoyed it. Let her {and me} know.

THOUGHT TO REMEMBER: Emergencies often bring out the strengths in us we never knew we had.

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Giving Thanks

When you look around, you might sense there is less to be thankful about than usual as we approach the close of 2013.

It’s a natural feeling. We’re winding down, but there are still too many families separated by war. The economy is still in shambles. We all know someone still struggling paycheck to paycheck – or even worse – without a viable job. There are still too many people living at or below poverty. Our youth continue to literally be under siege – staring at experimentation and exploitation of seemingly uncontrolled drugs, unbridled sex, wanton violence and unparalleled peer pressure … all at a younger and younger age. Our families are under attack. Our morals – what’s left of them in an increasingly immoral world – are constantly challenged. There is still too much racial, cultural and class intolerance.

Life continues to be tough for families and children, for employees and employers, for church and state. Life has changed after the senselessness of Sept. 11 and even after 12 years, it’s aftermath is one of gratuitous acts of violence and the ever-present threat of terrorism home and abroad. Those with family in the military feel a certain anxiousness that could dampen the holidays.

But that’s not the right feeling … not the true meaning of the Thanksgiving tradition.

Despite the problems within and without our own little circles, there is a lot to give thanks for this Thanksgiving Day. Above all, we thank God for our very lives and the lives of all we touch and who touch us. That inter-connection itself is wider than you might imagine.

Most of us this Thanksgiving will gather with family and/or friends around the table. We’ll continue the tradition started by the Pilgrims in 1621 … one that is more than turkey and stuffing … one that includes praise, thanksgiving, sharing and caring.

Thanksgiving is more than a day off to share with family and friends, sample the stuffing before the bird reaches the table or munch on leftovers while watching football games on television. It’s a day to look inward as well as outward … a day to recognize we still have much to be thankful for, despite all the problems in our nation and world.

It is truly a day for Thanksgiving.

THOUGHT TO REMEMBER: Adversity brings out our best talents which otherwise might lay dormant.

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Starlings, Gulls and Ducks

It doesn’t take much to amuse me. I can be mesmerized for hours by nature.

Case in point. The other day I was driving {I do that a lot} when a swarm of starlings played peek a boo with traffic. You know, the murmuration {that’s the official name of the swarm} would roost on one side of the road, spot a car, rush to the other side, roost and head back at the approach of another vehicle.

Now, I don’t know who plays the leader in this free-form flash, but the hundreds of others certainly follow him … on cue … in generally the same direction or at least a specific distance before changing course.

This fluid dance in the sky leads to such a spectacle. I’ve been know to pull over and just watch our feathered friends form a three-dimensional kaleidoscope. The only thing missing is color, since most of the time, the birds are a flat brown. The color is provided by the sky’s backdrop or, in the summer or fall, the foliage of the landscape.

Second case in point. This afternoon, I parked at water’s edge by the lake. It was cold, gray and extremely windy with bursts of snow. What caught my attention was a gull seemingly frozen in time and space hovering a few feet from the surface of the white-capping waves. It was just suspended in the wind, occasionally flapping a wing to keep steady.

As I watched this aerodynamic accomplishment, my eyes drifted to a bunch of ducks in the lake. They seemed to paddle out, bobbing up and down or ducking under {sorry} as the waves rolled shoreward. Then they would “catch” a wave just as it capped and ride the crest to shore. They would then fly back out 10 or 15 from shore to start the process all over again. Who knew ducks surfed?

I watched this for about an hour and a half {what a sad life I have}, which reminded me of the story a woman posted awhile ago saying she had watched her dog chase its tail for 10 minutes, then realized she had just spent 10 minutes watching her dog chase its tail.

Wonder what that says about me. An hour and a half?

THOUGHT TO REMEMBER: With two eyes and one tongue, you should see twice as much as you say.

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Five Minute Friday — Fly

It’s Friday so it’s time for Five Minute Friday when a group of people who love to throw caution to the wind gather — a couple of hundred strong —  to just write without worrying if it’s just right and share what five minutes buys them. And I’m proud to say I’m one of them.

The rules are loose, but essentially include no extreme editing; no worrying about perfect grammar, font or punctuation; visit other contributors’ blogs, comment and offer encouragement.

Everyone writes for five, unedited minutes on the same prompt. My routine is generally to go to Lisa-Jo Baker’s blog (http://lisajobaker.com/), get the prompt, think about it for a little bit then focus on putting my thoughts on paper, er, I mean, screen.

This week’s prompt offered another challenge. It was FLY.

Honestly, two totally divergent thoughts crossed my muddled mind … and, for the life of me, I couldn’t decide which direction to take or how to tie them together. So, for better or worse, here it is. The timer is set for five minutes {clock starts now}

How many times have you said to yourself, I wish I was a fly on the wall?

I know I have … many, many times. I wanted to be “in the loop” for conversations that probably didn’t concern me. I was just a little nosey.

When you think about it, being a fly on the wall is pretty silly. After all, flies cannot hear. They don’t have “ears.”

Enough digression. The more I thought about being a fly on the wall, the more I realized I didn’t have to be one. Perhaps the conversation was privileged. Perhaps it was personal and I didn’t need to know the dirty little secrets. Perhaps it was background. Perhaps it was negotiation.

No, instead I  theorized I was just being self absorbed. The world doesn’t revolve around me. But, more important, if I knew all the whys behind the whats, I couldn’t enjoy the challenges or … STOP

… blessings coming my way. Sometimes we really don’t have to know how sausage is made. We just have to just enjoy the sausage.

And that lead me to the hymn, I’ll Fly Away. I have no idea why, but I couldn’t get the melody out of my head the rest of the day.

I’ll fly away, Oh Glory
I’ll fly away; (in the morning)
When I die, Hallelujah, by and by,
I’ll fly away (I’ll fly away).

THOUGHT TO REMEMBER:  Cut your contribution to air pollution if you want to breathe clean air.

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