On Another Mother and her Son

Mary did you know that your baby boy will one day walk on water?
Mary did you know that your baby boy will save our sons and daughters?
Did you know that your baby boy has come to make you new?
This child that you've delivered, will soon deliver you.

Mary did you know that your baby boy will give sight to a blind man?
Mary did you know that your baby boy will calm a storm with his hand?
Did you know that your baby boy has walked where angels trod?
And when you kiss your little baby, you have kissed the face of God.

The blind will see, the deaf will hear and the dead will live again.
The lame will leap, the dumb will speak, the praises of the lamb.

Mary did you know that your baby boy is Lord of all creation?
Mary did you know that your baby boy will one day rule the nations?
Did you know that your baby boy is heaven's perfect Lamb?
This sleeping child you're holding is the great I am.
This song, written by Mark Lowry, is one of my favorite (what I would call) Advent Season songs, and has been ringing in my head these last few days. It reminds me of the expectancy that we feel in this season, just as a mother has expectations when she’s carrying her child.

I wonder what Mary’s expectations were? In Luke chapter 2 there are two instances where it says that “Mary treasured up all these things in her heart.” I simply cannot fathom what she must have felt. If anyone would have questions, it should have been Mary…but recorded is only one, “How can this be?” and in faith she accepted what the Lord had for her when the angel said, “for nothing is impossible with God.”

During this season of preparations I don’t what to forget how amazing this story is. To think that the Lord of all creation would chose to become a baby, so that He could live among us, identify with us, and show us the way to the Father by His life, death and resurrection. The best gift we can receive is when we humbly open our hearts to Him in faith as well.

Just a Moment in Time

It happened to be that on the same day that I did the last post, Ben called me at noon and asked if I had something for lunch. I said, “Sure . . . in like 15, 20 minutes.” I quickly added some canned tomato rice soup to my dwindling chili borscht, put some buns to warm in the oven and continued baking my Christmas cookies.
We chatted as I baked and suddenly he asked, “What kind of soup is this?” It reminded him of Santa Soup. Oh . . . Santa Soup …. no one will know what that is, since I made it up.
When he was very little, I was making borscht one day and (too late) realized that I had no cabbage. Borscht without cabbage? Well, I did find some red cabbage in the bottom of my fridge and decided to try that. It was close to Christmas and so I told the kids it was Santa Soup. I don’t remember the girls’ reaction, but Ben loved it!
So now, as he sat there at my kitchen counter, a grown young, married man, whom I’m so proud of . . . I wish I could have taken a picture of him, enjoying Santa soup and one cookie after another. . . but it’s stored as a special memory in my heart. A big boy with a little boy shine in his eyes.
So, this week, as you go about your normal life, take the time to appreciate and treasure a moment, because these moments can change so quickly.

Some Things Never Change

The other day Julene was telling me on the phone how Paeton had gotten out of bed , come into the kitchen and asked, “Remember how at Grammy’s house I had a snack before going to bed?” (Our sweet boy is 4 years old and he’s thinking back at least half a year because they’ve been back in Indonesia since May.) She asked him, “Do you want some cereal?” to which he readily agreed.
I also remember him sitting on the counter last winter and enjoying his bedtime Cheerios. It brought back memories of 20 years back when Ben did the same thing . . . only he often lay down on the counter, and as I’m thinking about it, it was probably because there was a cabinet in the way. I showed Paet the photo of uncle Ben and he quickly got into the right position, because, after all, anything uncle Ben did or does he wants to do also.
Why don’t I just show you the two pictures and you can see for yourself what has changed and what hasn't.
(Just like in the coloring books…..)

Paeton Ben - winter 2007-2008

Ben - winter 1987-1988

A time to iron and a time to refrain

To start off I need to say that during this episode, blogging or taking pictures was the last thing on my mind – I’m still new at this. Everything got promptly trashed and cleaned up. However, the next morning, I was able to re-enact this for your amusement. With love from the ironing queen!
Right about now I admire anyone who would never even THINK about ironing a nylon camisole. It was near the top of the pile . . . I was thinking for a tiny split second and then … no, I was hoping the iron wasn’t hot enough yet. Well, you see what happened.

And for anyone who’d like a better look . . .

I feel the need to justify myself somewhat and that is that I’ve never had this bad of an ironing blunder in my life . . . and I iron every week! I love the look of piles of laundry ironed and folded neatly, like in a store.
Oh well . . . I can go back to Smart Set and buy another $15 camy, but I was quite worried about my $90 iron.

What to do? My always loving, supportive h is snickering . . . as I go to google how to clean nylon on an iron.

So I hauled out everything that was suggested. (Oops, the salt never made it into the photo shoot, but then, it didn’t work anyways) I’m not sure what worked in the end, because I ended up soaking up some nail polish remover in a paper towel and letting the iron sit on it. I also tried scrubbing with soda and finally just sprayed it with oven cleaner (careful to cover up the steam holes). Then I sat down and had a piece of cake.
When I got back to the iron and started scraping again, it suddenly came off, all in one easy piece. I couldn’t believe it!Now I know that you may never iron something that doesn’t need ironing, but you may just drop the hot iron on your carpet or get it close to a plastic bag . . . and then you’ll know what to do. I’m just happy my iron is good to go again.

Plane Chit Chat

I sat beside her on the plane. She was a beautiful woman, around forty years old. Surprisingly, she was rather nervous about flying and I was thinking of how I could give her some assurances. As we talked she seemed to relax and she proceeded to pull out a book about dogs. Getting excited, she began to tell me about her passion for dogs, showing me pictures, suggesting I get this book too and read it. I listened about how inhumanely some dogs are treated and noted her burning desire to do what she could to free the dogs.

I, however, in one sense, sat there speechless. (I mean - anyone who knows me would see this situation as humorous - enough said) How could her excitement about dogs just spill over, while I, also, had something important to share? Yet, the words were stuck in my throat. Why is it that she could freely let me know about her love for dogs and I couldn’t tell her about my love for God? Oh, I so wanted to tell her, but my fear got in my way again.

As I’m mulling over this strange show and tell, I’m wondering . . . did God send me someone to show me how simply it’s done? Couldn’t I just have pulled out my Book and told her that she does not need to be afraid to die?

A quote I heard shortly after this incident went something like this: (I need to look this up)
“I’d rather tell you the truth and have you hate me than tell you lies and have you adore me.”
I pray that I can speak the truth in love and not worry about offending, but rather remember the possible eternal consequences of not saying something.

You've Got Mail!

We stopped in Seattle on our way back from a trip. As we often do, we thought about what time it is on the other side of the world and decided to send a quick email to inquire about a Christmas list, since we wanted to do some shopping the next day. Good thing for blackberries!
The following morning we received a specific list just before heading to the store that we would need to go to. From a place where naked kids play in muddy rivers and their moms hang their laundry on railings of the shacks they float on, she had checked out a gift on-line and sent us the name brand, color etc. of a special item. All this while we were “on the road”, so to say! Quite amazing, I thought.

Sometime later there was a beautiful little bulky envelope in our mailbox. There was no mistaking where it had come from with all of the stamps on it!! I held it for a while and just enjoyed looking at it! I began to think about all the people who had been involved in bringing this tiny, precious package half way around the world . . . from the hands of loved ones to the exact right home! This too, suddenly seemed amazing!

There are some things emails can't send . . . Thank you, Julene