Spencer's Mom

Except a kernel of wheat fall into the ground and die, it abideth alone: but if it die, it bringeth forth much fruit.

If You Have a Cough, Fever or You’ve Just Had Enough

He will be the sure foundation for your times, a rich store of salvation and wisdom and knowledge; the fear of the LORD is the key to this treasure. Isaiah 36:6

  “If you have a cough, sore throat or fever, please report immediately to airport security at your terminal.” Then in Chinese, the same message would follow. It was January 6th 2020, and I was in the Hong Kong International Airport for a three-hour layover. I would hear this message repeat approximately 15 times before I left. By then, it had become a droning din along with all the other announcements in mostly Chinese. But looking back, I should’ve wondered just a little. I should’ve felt the earth rumble beneath my feet, the world shifting and groaning for the unthinkable – a world-wide pandemic. Instead I climbed aboard a 737 jet stuffed with college students from China returning to school in the US after a long winter break. As I settled in for a 20hour flight, my last leg home from Malaysia after visiting my son and his family for Christmas, the last thing on my mind was how a small microbe from China would change the world. Just three days later, the WHO announced what the Hong Kong airport already knew – the discovery of a mysterious virus in Wuhan China.

Little microbes everywhere!

Fast-forward one year. My car is littered with masks. I have learned the Social Distance dance, where body language determines intimacy, as we dosey – dose into an elbow bump or maybe just a flapping hand that looks like a wounded pigeon. We are New Englanders here, so the six feet rule in itself is no hardship. Yet for loved ones, especially those who are vulnerable, we are charting new waters without a compass. We are too cautious or blatantly reckless. No one gets it just right.

Tomorrow marks 19 years since my son Spencer died. The earth did more than rumble that day – it opened up and swallowed me whole. When I could emerge and look around, my world was completely changed. Anyone who’s lost a child knows this – you don’t put your life back together. You must build a new one. Nineteen years later, I can see back to those early days of smoke and rubble. Yet there was one thing that did not change – my God. I couldn’t feel it or even see it for a while, but I had a foundation to build on, I had a Helper to build alongside of me. “Come to me,” Jesus says, “and I will give you rest.” As long as I stayed close by, it wasn’t even hard. Tedious, tiresome and slow. But there was rest.

Nineteen years is a long time to miss your boy. But I look at what God has built, in my life and the lives of those I love most and prayed for most, and I am grateful. When Moses shuddered and stalled before stepping back into Egypt to face Pharaoh,  God simply said, “Tell them I AM sent you.”

I AM answers every question before it’s even asked.

I AM omnipotent.

I AM omniscient.

I AM the Beginning and the End – the Author and Finisher of your faith.

I AM mercy and wrath, justice and grace, holy and Love everlasting.

And a sure foundation.

I’ve never had a problem with fearing God. The One who strings the stars also formed me in the womb. He heard my cry from the wreckage of a life lived without him, and He reached into the sludge and rescued me. I am more in awe of His power and grace now, 33 years later, than then. I don’t want to take a step without Him. It’s a holy fear – the good kind. And when I met Jesus, the one He sent to redeem and save us, all of heaven threw a party. All of God’s kids get a party – they really know how to have fun in heaven

There’s different kinds of devastation. Losing your child is a head-on collision. In one second – it’s all over. Covid-19 is a slow leak. We think we can fix it, or at least slow it down, but then we see another leak. For all we’ve done, or not done, it’s worse than ever. We’re tired now, just doggie-paddling with the current, masks on.  Uncertainty blankets the future, anxiety morphs into hopelessness. I will not give you more numbers – percentage spikes in addiction, suicide and violence. Bleak economic predictions. It’s just not good.

“Come to me all you who are weary and heavy-laden.” Jesus again. How does He know? Refer back to the I AM part of this blog.

I admit I get weary too. I’m not sure when I can fly to Malaysia again. I’m not sure my vaccination will work or won’t kill me. I’m a nurse in a hospital filled up with Covid patients and I want to die when I put on PPE that feels like I’m shrink-wrapped and talking through a wad of Wet Wipes.

God is there and He’s waiting. In a world that can’t control a microbe, God is still in control. A sure foundation – won’t you go to Him? Jesus has His arms open wide, and once He has you, He will never let you go.  Heaven waits for another party and I hope it’s yours.

 

In Christ Alone

By Celtic Worship

 

 

 

The Prize

 

“God help me to know and to live like the time is short. To give you all I have today. Tomorrow is really not promised.

  • Spencer Macleod

 

The quote you just read was written by a 19-year-old. Less than three years later, he left this world forever, his life complete three weeks short of his 22nd birthday. Above my bureau, which is splayed with earrings and makeup and half-used perfume bottles, a picture of Spencer hangs, printed on a board with his words etched across the top. He is holding a microphone, he’s in South Africa, sharing his testimony and Christian rap he wrote with hundreds of high school students. His face is tan, focused.  And he is looking upward.

Looking up – I have to post reminders around my chaotic life, reminders to reorient my perspective, my vision. Things are fairly dismal on planet earth. We try to speak hopefully of “maybe next year,” when things will return to normal, when we can meet for coffee without being assaulted with a book of rules (a restaurant today asked me to complete a form for the CDC. I declined.) We seek truth, we long for hope. We’re so tired we didn’t even go buy batteries and water for Hurricane Isaias. And God knows we all have enough toilet paper.

I think when you lose a child, you gain a piece of eternity. For the longest time, I simply wanted Spencer back. Don’t tell me he’s in a better place. A better place is sitting at my table, having coffee or pot roast. But slowly my gaze has shifted over the years. I’m looking up. “I press towards the mark for the prize of the high calling of God in Christ Jesus” Philippians 3:12. This has been on a blackboard in my dining room for almost 10 years. I used to change the verse, but this one stayed. As my eyes catch the chalked scrawl, I am reminded of what matters. Look up.

So what is the prize? I’m not sure. Heaven, just for starters, and that’s reason enough. But I think to God it’s much more specific. He weaves and pulls and stops. And I think sometimes He just steps back and watches and waits. God is not in a hurry, not in a panic over all this. What seems like a fretful mess to us is not a surprise to God Almighty. He is big enough to name the stars of an immeasurable universe, but close enough to speak in a still small voice.

“This is life eternal, that they may know You, the only true God, and Jesus Christ, whom you have sent.” John 17:3

It sounds like life eternal can start right here. I think that was something my son Spencer figured out as a teenager. He knew heaven was closer than we think. “To give you all I have today.” That’s exactly what God is waiting for.

I learned a new phrase a couple of years ago when my son Miles and his family sold everything and moved to Malaysia. “Third Culture Kids” or TCK’s, are children who spend much of their formative years in a culture other than their parents’ or passport culture. Three of my grandchildren are TCK’s now. Brooklynn, almost 12 and Olive, 10 have had to reconcile their lives to a place that is really not “home” culturally, but have also let go of a place they left over two years ago called “home.” They are in a sense, homeless,  although they love Malaysia. Quincy, age four, thinks he’s Malaysian, even though a classmate calls him “Olaf” who is a snowman. The “third culture” is neither here nor back there. It is a unique life that is separate from both worlds, shared with other TCK’s.

Homeless.  I started to think about this, how it must be hard for these two girls at times, but then I realized they are way ahead of most of us. If we call ourselves Christians, followers of Jesus Christ, then we are all homeless.  We are all TCK’s.

Jesus told us clearly that His kingdom was not of this world. Paul wrote,

“But our citizenship is in heaven, and from it we await a Savior, the Lord Jesus Christ.” Philippians 3:20

What am I holding on to? What am I keeping in my back pocket “just in case?” What am I stockpiling? Money? Facebook friends? Retirement plans? We have not chosen God – He has  chosen us. If His word is Truth, then “we are not our own, we are bought with a price.” (1Corinthians 6:20)

For a long time after Spence died, the world seemed one-dimensional to me. The life I lived before was gone, and none of it mattered anyway – career, friends, approval. I was holding on to my other two sons with a tenuous grip, but all else seemed pointless.  Even an ocean sunrise or fall foliage looked tacky and fake. My heart had disconnected and I deeply yearned for home, to just check on my son, and maybe have a small conference with Jesus.

Eventually, I resigned myself to life on earth.  Beauty came, but it was not in the ocean or the mountains. It was in the projects of Pawtucket, the faces of all the children who walked through the doors of our little storefront church, many scanning the countertops for something to put in their pocket for later. I found beauty in sitting at a breakfast table with three mentally retarded men, delighted in the new day and amused at their guest. Though my heart still ached for heaven, I had found contentment in the hidden places that God pointed to. Then one day, God gave me His joy. It wasn’t in my work, or even my family. It was when I looked up, across the clouds that blazed behind a dirty city landscape. I was looking for Him and He surprised me with a splash of joy, real joy that brings renewal and hope – just a taste of what’s to come. It’s enough.

Plant your feet firmly therefore within the freedom that Christ has won for us, and do not let yourselves be caught again in the shackles of slavery. Galatians 5:1 Philips

We are Third Culture Kids. We can’t go back; we seem to not quite fit in here. And as Spencer wisely noted 20 years ago now, “Tomorrow is really not promised.”  But there is a beautiful freedom in that, and we DO have a home, a better place, and joy within the journey. On that day, our homecoming, we will be complete.

Look up! Let’s keep our eyes on the prize – the high calling in Christ Jesus.

 

 

 

“God Be With You” by Selah.  Enjoy!

 

The Best Hiding Place

 

You are my hiding place; you will protect me from trouble and surround me with songs of deliverance.

Psalm 32:7

It was the last place to look and the best place to hide. Growing up in the 60’s, where no place was too dirty, creepy or dangerous to explore or hide in, there was still something unsettling about the dank and dreary room off of the cellar called the “bomb shelter.”  

For one, it was black dark – no windows, no light switch. The small opening into it resembled more of a cave entrance than a doorway, casting a dim light onto a massive hutch that was left there. Using a flashlight, we discovered elaborate spiderwebs, a few boxes shoved against the wall and some rotting wood stacked in a corner. The hutch and boxes were filled with cans – canned peas, corn, potatoes, spam and baked beans. Oh, and lots of batteries. How utterly boring. Sitting on a box in the damp shelter, I could only think about how busy the spiders were over my head. And what was that noise in the corner? Mice? Monsters? As I got older, and my parents explained that it was all in case the communists bombed us, I knew my mother would opt for sunbathing in nuclear radiation over a can of rusty beans and sitting in mouse turds.

Circa 1950’s. Not even close to our bomb shelter.

An article titled, “How to Help Your Child Deal with the Corona Virus Scare” caught my attention the other day. First I need to ask, Who is scared? I don’t think kids are, unless their parents make them that way. Even when we had to perform air raid drills and squat under our desks, (Yeah, that’s gonna help when an atomic bomb plops down on your town) I never felt scared or even mildly anxious. Why? Because the grown-ups took care of all that. The line between their world and our world was very clearly drawn. Air raid drills were a fun distraction to the droll tick tock of classroom life. And bomb shelters were a spooky hiding place. “The grown-ups are talking. Go play outside,” was the mantra we lived by. And we were good with that. I didn’t really want to be a part of their world – fat musty books and Walter Kronkite, politics and the work my dad marched off to “in the city” every day.

Truly I tell you, anyone who will not receive the kingdom of God like a little child will never enter it.” Luke 18:17

What a strange thing for Jesus to say!

There is a beautiful purity and child-likeness to faith. Real faith has no sentiments, qualifications or even belief systems. It just is, like the trust my grandson Quincy has when he rides his daddy’s shoulders. No fear, no worry that he will be dropped or concern even that daddy might get tired. In a valid sense, he becomes part of his dad, joyfully dependent, with a secure seat and a great view. This is a beautiful picture of how Jesus wants us to come to Him. I must remind my skeptical, critical self that my opinions are irrelevant; my objections over how God runs things are foolish at best – an affront to His holiness and sovereignty at its worst. Again, the line is clearly drawn.

I confess I get scared. Walking the dog at night, a sick child or grandchild too far away to touch and see– and heights! But I remember a specific moment in time when I lay down my worst fears – the kind that grip your chest or make you gasp for air in the middle of the night. It was just a week after I lost my son Spencer and Miles, his brother, was home from college for the funeral. It was time for him to go back, to FLY back and suddenly I felt a wave of terror sweep up and over me and I collapsed.  I lost one, why not another? There is, of course, some truth to this rationale, that’s why fear is so crippling. Yes, it could happen again. In fact, I’ve known parents who have endured this horror twice, on separate occasions. But just then I thought, God, I can’t live this way. I can’t live crippled by What ifs and the hopelessness of No guarantees. Truth was, I was not in control. But in the rolling and churning ground under my feet, I still believed God was. So I surrendered ­ – not so much Fear, because some fear is healthy and reasonable. What I was really releasing was my sense of control, my crumbling kingdom, uncurling one stubborn finger at a time until it was gone. I was humbled, and I was free.

God, in His grace, understands our fragility. Doubt, fear and Why God? swirl like a consuming whirlwind around us lately, kicking up clouds of those devilish microbes and bacteria. But here’s a secret. There is a hiding place. In fact, God made it just for His kids and it’s so much nicer than a musty bomb shelter. Is is a beautiful wide-open place, where you can move and spin and breathe in and laugh and sing out loud. You can see far from there ­ – not as far as God can, but enough to know that you’re safe. Your Father’s got this, and He’s got you.

Fear exploits. And it morphs into group–think and we can quickly go from hoarding toilet paper to viewing our neighbors as microbe spewing murderers, sneering and cursing behind our masks. Fear manipulates and multiplies. It stalks and thrives in the shadows of uncertainty and is far more contagious than Covid 19, and I think more devastating.

I’m not sure Jesus cares that churches were closed for Easter. He’s more concerned about you and me, behind our masks and closed doors. He is there when you look at the mounting bills, the news, the bottle. He is there when you are really scared and you think you are all alone. You’re not.  

“Follow me.” Jesus again. The path is not always clear and soft, the way can be difficult and obscured. But let him lead.  He knows the way to the very best hiding place of all.

He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High will abide in the shadow of the Almighty.

Psalm 91:1

 

You Are My Hiding Place by Selah – enjoy!

https://youtu.be/uUx2WcC9JKo 

 

Five Hard Lessons for the Christian (or Read the Fine Print)

Enter by the narrow gate; for wide is the gate and broad is the way that leads to destruction, and there are many who go in by it. Because narrow is the gate and difficult is the way which leads to life, and there are few who find it. Matthew 7:13-14

                I feel like I say this a lot lately, “Life is hard. It’s supposed to be.” I say it to crowds, or friends or sometimes strangers. I would not have to say this in most other countries except maybe France, because they know this already. And sometimes I get this back: Blink. Blink. Respectful silence. I know they want to argue. Many know it can be difficult, but most do not agree that it should be. In fact, our culture sets comfort as a priority.

             Okay, I admit I like comfort too. I love my flannel sheets in winter, and I secretly covet those car-starter-uppers on days when snow and wind make just a short walk to the driveway feel like an arctic trek. But I also have learned the benefit of being challenged – at work, at home, in church. Here is where Pride collides with our incompetence or sometimes laziness, where a mirror is held up to self-righteousness and we are uncovered. Our first instinct is to cover and deflect. We get angry, petulant. “I have my rights.” Well, actually you don’t.

Hard Lesson #1. God’s kingdom is not a democracy.

           There are no rights for God’s children because it is an unimaginable privilege and undeserved gift to even know Him, let alone be “joint heirs” to all that is His. Leave your rights at the foot of the cross and make sure you read this disclaimer carefully:

And if children, then heirs—heirs of God and fellow heirs with Christ, provided we suffer with him in order that we may also be glorified with him. Romans 8:17

           Ah, the hard part!

Hard Lesson #2: You will suffer if you follow Christ. No sissies allowed. Read this too:

Count it all joy, my brothers,[ when you meet trials of various kinds, for you know that the testing of your faith produces steadfastness. And let steadfastness have its full effect, that you may be perfect and complete, lacking in nothing. James 1:2-4

            Don’t worry – be happy! We get a variety of trials and they are good for us, because there is no other way to have a faith that is real and unshakeable. And then you get to be perfect, complete, lacking NOTHING. Wow! But first, the fire…

Hard Lesson #3 God does always answer prayer, but sometimes He says No.

           He’s God. He can do whatever He wants and it’s always right and for our good.

Hard Lesson #4 You have to love everyone. E-ver-y-one! No exceptions.

           In fact, God will intentionally bring you unlovables, all those people you really can’t stand. (refer back to Hard Lesson #2).

Hard Lesson #5 It’s not fair.

So the last will be first, and the first last. For many are called, but few chosen. Matthew 20:16 

            Back to the narrow gate. It’s not that Jesus doesn’t want us all crushing the gate, or having to create a wait-list because the line is so long. Jesus really is calling, but few are answering this call. They hear the call, but opt out of the “difficult” part. We want results, guarantees, position. On this side of heaven, there is no reward. Instead you will likely be laughed at, scorned as foolish or ludicrous.

            You don’t mean to tell me that you believe the whole Bible? My mother would ask, one eyebrow raised as if to coach me away from saying something she considered idiotic.

            Yes, I would say. The whole thing. Because it’s not just a book, it is life, from the Giver of Life.

            But what about Blessing? The Promises? Ah yes – lots of those. But read the fine print…

And we know that all things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are called according to his purpose. Romans 8:28 

            Do you love me? Jesus asked this of Peter three times. Exasperated, Peter finally said, “Lord, you know all things.” He does, He knows what is love and what is just lip-service or lukewarm compliance.

            Called according to His purpose. What if His purpose for my life is obscurity? Or more humiliating than that – a laughing stock, an offense? Elisabeth Elliot noted:

Did the earthly life of our Lord appear to be a thundering success? Would the statistics of souls won, crowds made into fruitful disciples, sermons heeded, commands obeyed, be impressive? Hardly.

            At the foot of the cross, there is a lot of room. There’s no box seats, or roped off sections. It’s you, it’s me, staring into this unfathomable love despite the seeds of evil that are implanted deep in every heart. He is calling me from death to life, into a love I am incapable of but for His immeasurable grace. 

            Follow me. The way is difficult, uncertain. I stumble, waver or sometimes stop dead in my tracks. Which way now?

Jesus Christ had to fathom every sin and every sorrow man could experience, and that is what makes Him seem strange. When we see Him in this aspect we do not know Him, we do not recognize one feature of His life, and we do not know how to begin to follow Him. – Oswald Chambers

            There are times where nothing is familiar. No GPS.

And your ears shall hear a word behind you, saying, “This is the way, walk in it,” when you turn to the right or when you turn to the left. Isaiah 30:21

            God is there, always. Even in the dark, or when the pain is so loud you can’t hear him. Jehovah Shammah: “the Lord is there.” And I am His, the only one that I care to please, and He will lead me according to HIS purpose. Then one day, I will meet him at the narrow gate. I don’t know for sure, but I think Jesus will be there with a huge smile, holding it open just for us. I hope I see you there too, as we enter into the fullness of His joy and glory. Then real life, the one we were made for from the start, will begin.

 

 When Love Was Slain by Selah – Enjoy!

 https://youtu.be/6mcxNJ1BFLU

 

 

Happy New Day

                                          Quincy waving hello from a tuk-tuk

          

                The rooster crowed into the darkness around me. I squinted at my phone – 2:30 am. I could hear the music outside still playing, hints of western pop with a Khmer karaoke overlay which sounded not as bad as you’d imagine, or maybe I was just amused. My New Year was ringing in, even though I was too exhausted to stay awake until midnight, despite the neighborhood dogs barking into the thick smoky Cambodian air. Our “deranged rooster” as my daughter-in-law aptly named him, was heralding 2020 a bit early, but I lay awake now, fully alert to all of the unfamiliar sounds around me. At a time when most people. including me, are prone to looking ahead – to a new year, new start, new diet, I lingered in the moment, letting my senses capture the strange land around me. My granddaughter’s rhythmic breathing beside me brought an other-worldly peace beneath the din and revelry outside the window. 

            We talk a lot about vision and that’s not a bad thing. Humans need hope just to survive. Soldiers dream of the girl at home, of mom’s baking while the earth turns to fire around them. The castaway hopes for a ship passing by. Maybe this year you want a new job, a husband or health. The ability to dream, to look ahead is God-given. It is the mark that faith aims at. But it is not faith.

            Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen. Hebrews 11:1

            Some translations use the word assurance instead of substance. That means we already know that we have what we hope for. It is a robust, whole and complete hope, not a desperate or vague hope. It is knowing that whether we are in Cambodia or Cape Cod, we are still sojourners. We are not there yet; this is not our home. We are assured of that and we can not only rest in that, we can live fully and walk with purpose and conviction because we know where we are going. Our vision? Bringing others along. Using our God-given gifts to point them to Jesus. the Fountain of Life, so that they need nothing more along the Way.

            But whoever drinks of the water that I shall give him will never thirst. But the water that I shall give him will become in him a fountain of water springing up into everlasting life.” John 4:14

            “Whoever.” Malaysians, Cambodians, Koreans, Chinese, Nepalese, Iranians, West Africans, Pakistani. I was privileged to worship Jesus alongside all of these nationalities while I was vising my son and his family over Christmas but in God’s eyes we are just His kids, with all of the stumbling and wandering tendencies that children have. We don’t need a vision, or even a plan. We need to come to Him daily, sometimes moment to moment – and never thirst.

            “I’ve learned to stop looking ahead,” a friend told me recently. She and her husband have been side by side in the trenches ever since his cancer diagnosis several months ago. “I’ve got today, and that is enough. I just trust God with the rest.” There was so much wisdom in that, for all of us. That’s what got me thinking about the moment, how many God has hidden in each day, like He’s saying, “Look! Over here!” Use your eyes and ears and hands and heart right here, right now.
           For from his fullness we have all received, grace upon grace. John 1:14(ESV)

            Everlasting, eternal grace.

            I am 63. There is a lot more road behind me than before me. Maybe that’s one reason why I can linger now in the priceless moments God gives me. An out of sync rooster, watching my grandchildren play with children they can’t understand but each knowing the universal language of laughter, or singing Feliz Navidad in a Cambodian church (they really love this song for some reason) and the joy we share that transcends culture.

            All these people died in faith, without having received the things they were promised. However, they saw them and welcomed them from afar. And they acknowledged that they were strangers and exiles on the earth. Hebrews 11:1           

            We already have everything we need to make it to 2021, and each year after, until God’s children pass through the heavenly gates. But it’s what we do along the way that matters most. Let’s pray God opens our eyes to the moment, so we can love those He brings our way, and show them the way home – step by step, grace upon grace.

            Happy 2020 friends – and Happy Sunday or whatever day you’re in. May the road lead you to Christ Jesus, Fountain of Everlasting Life, and His hidden treasure along the Way.

 

(Below is clip of children playing:)

IMG_1829

 

 

The Legend of Mrs. Santa

Hmmm…you can buy this costume on Amazon.

“There she goes! There she goes!” my father yelled as he pointed up towards the roof. It was freezing out, we had no coats on but it didn’t matter. A grown man and three or four kids had just spilled out onto the lawn on a Christmas Eve, and stood squinting up into the sky. And I swear, to this very day, that I saw the hem of a huge red skirt slipping over the crest of the roof. It was, of course, Mrs. Santa Claus.

                   Years later, my mom took credit for inventing Mrs. Santa, for leaving the basket of new pajamas on the front step, ringing the doorbell then running at break-neck speed around the house, through the back door and coming up behind us all as we ran to the door. It was the only time of year that my father read the Bible to us, from Luke, the birth of Jesus. And it was the perfect opportunity for my mom to make a run for it. I doubt we ever heard the end of the story, but it was a great way to get your kids into their pajamas on Christmas Eve.

                    It never made sense that it was my mother. She was the student, the bookworm, snapping us all to our senses. In my mind, her brows are terminally furrowed and I am in trouble or close to it. My father was a 5 year old stuck in a suit with a briefcase. I think that’s why he liked to drink, because he could bust loose, be could become what he yearned to be at the moment; a clown, a cowboy, a monster. At night he became a huge wrestling machine, rolling and growling on the living room floor while we screamed and giggled, while my mother sat at the kitchen window, smoking another cigarette. When she looked out of the window, her brows went up, like she was  waiting to be rescued.

                    I took a poll and all of my siblings, including me kept Mrs. Santa alive. For me, it was long after I put Santa to rest. My last son, Jake, never knew Santa. I told him it was me that put those presents under the tree. It was work and a paycheck. But I decided Mrs. Santa had a practical use and no other kid, in my lifetime, ever reported her ringing their doorbell. She became family.

                    By then I knew Jesus and He was much better than Santa. No one would ever tell me that they made him up. I learned the end of Luke; that He was more than a baby in a Woolworth’s crèche, that he became a man just so he could die for us. And the greatest joy and wonder of all; He could actually live within someone like me. In the same mysterious splendor that He came to earth, through a young girl in a dirty barn, He came to me one night 32 years ago. The baby really came to rescue us. I wish my mom had known that all those years ago.

                    When my brother died, my dad drank to forget, and the child inside died too. We still pulled off Mrs. Santa, until we all went off to different places and it was more sad to remember the wonder and laughter, the days of child-like hope. We had our own kids and I did plenty of tearing over snow and ice to get from the basket of new jammies on the front porch to the back door in time. Eventually they learned the truth. But I loved standing in the Cape Cod cold with my kids, our breath billowing huge puffs of steam, yelling, “There she goes!” as they peered up into the black winter sky.

                    I wonder if the shepherds that saw the angels rip through the silent night, God’s glory spilling out onto the dark earth, if they forever stood watching after that, – looking for maybe a wing, a golden hem of a robe, just a sprinkle of light or a faint song through the stars. I wish my dad had known that the child-like wonder can be real, that Jesus wants us that way.

                    According to my daughter-in-laws, the legend of Mrs. Santa has made it to the next generation, as far away as Malaysia! But it’s more for fun, honoring a peculiar family tradition. Like me, they retired Santa, and gave Jesus center stage. And I think Jesus would be right in the middle of it all; gingerbread houses and hanging stockings and singing songs, even shouting, “There she goes!” and especially the love in a mom or dad that tucks a child in at night. It might remind Him of His mom, that cold night, the love in her eyes and the love that sent Him from heaven straight to us.

                  We were worth all that to Him – the cold barn, the cross, the empty tomb. It was all His idea. It’s the most magnificent Christmas gift, every single day of the year. Christ in us – the hope of glory, a hope that is eternal.

Luke 2:11-14 (NLT)

The Savior—yes, the Messiah, the Lord—has been born today in Bethlehem, the city of David!  And you will recognize him by this sign: You will find a baby wrapped snugly in strips of cloth, lying in a manger.”

Suddenly, the angel was joined by a vast host of others—the armies of heaven—praising God and saying,

“Glory to God in highest heaven,

and peace on earth to those with whom God is pleased.”

 May you know the wonder of His love and the glory of His salvation this Christmas and forever!

 

 *****Beautiful song: “Winter Snow”

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xpHiAmL8-b0