So, I’ve made my New Year’s Plans. They aren’t too lofty, so I think I might be able to keep them. Some of them, anyway. Time will tell.

• 2010 was a difficult year for me healthwise. After a very productive 2009 holiday season of cooking, baking, decorating, gift-making & wrapping, etc., in January I was struck down (yes, it sounds dramatic, but I WAS!) by sciatica. I literally hobbled around for 2 weeks while we waited for our insurance to be in force. Through the year, I was in & out of doctors’ offices, using pain meds, going to physical therapy, having a useless spinal injection of steroids that gave only a few days’ relief from pain, finally going the surgery route with a spinal laminectomy. At the end of the year, I was still using pain meds because of the damage done to the sciatic nerve. I’ve been assured it WILL heal in time (is that a resolution, a plan, or a promise? I can’t tell.) My 2011 Plan: I suppose the only thing I can do here is to avoid the deterioration of bone in my back (someone tell me how!) Okay, it’s a plan! 
• Finances went downhill. Through 2010, outgo increasingly overshadowed income, so that by Christmastime, we felt very Dickensian; there were times when I could swear we were reenacting the scene of the Bob Cratchit family’s Christmas “feast” in A Christmas Carol. The only things missing were Tiny Tim’s crutch and the steamed pudding.  My 2011 Plan: make more money. This seems fairly simple and straightforward, as plans go. But, the devil, as they say, is in the details. 
• Two weeks before Christmas, I came down with a cold, which became a sinus infection, requiring yet another visit to the doctor the day before Christmas Eve, more meds to take and the directive to NOT attend church in case I might be infectious to others. So, Christmas Eve saw my eldest, Kate, (also sick) and I left behind as everyone else trekked to Christmas Eve Mass. Major bummer.  My 2011 Plan: eat healthier, exercise more, get enough sleep, avoid people.
• We’re very cramped in our little apartment. Six large people in a small space wears thin after a few years, and it’s time to go. My 2011 Plan: find an affordable house to rent. That’s not asking too much, right? Well, judging from the inflated rental rates in our area, this might be more in the “act of God” category.
• I have this growing desire to transfer my attentions from passive things (TV, movies) to more creative pursuits (Bible study, music, acting, writing, calligraphy, sewing, gift-making, organizing my home, etc., etc., etc.) My 2011 Plan: realizing that this item borders on the “resolution” category, I’ll be careful in saying that I’ll plan to do as many of the things I’ve listed as time, health, energy and other unexpected occurences may allow. 

Resolutions, plans or no, I have high hopes for 2011. It couldn’t get much more difficult than 2010. But we endured that year, and I plan to do better than endure this year. But stuff happens.

O Come, o come, Immanuel

and ransom captive Israel

that mourns in lonely exile here

until the Son of God appear.

Rejoice!  Rejoice!  Immanuel

shall come to thee, O Israel!

Today is the first Sunday in Advent.  If you’re unfamiliar with Advent, it is the penitential season leading up to Christmas Day.  It is for the purpose of preparing oneself spiritually for the celebration of the Birth of the Christ Child and also for His Second Coming.  Traditionally, during a penitential season one chooses to withhold something from one’s life that is a detriment to spiritual growth and/or health.  But the point is not to just leave a hole; rather it should be filled with something good and productive, such as reading and study of the Scriptures or prayer or good works.  Carrying it further, I’m sure that the idea is that the new practice will become a habit, replacing life’s time-wasters with more important things of a God-centered, God-honoring nature.

When I was much younger and didn’t fully understand the practice of “giving something up for Lent” that my liturgical friends would talk about, I thought the whole idea silly.  Perhaps I perceived a lack of real commitment on the part of the practitioners to do anything more than make a show of some religious ritual.  Or perhaps I simply didn’t understand the concept.  Most likely, it was a combination of both.

But I do get it now.  Sometimes, as a busy wife and mother, Advent and Lent sort of sneak up on me, and I feel unprepared to tackle another thing on my list of to-do’s.  But this year, I sort of got a jump on  Advent and have already made mental plans on how I will spend it (i.e., the thing I’ll give up and what will replace it.)  My prayer is that I will succeed in being diligent in my attempts to increase in the knowledge and wisdom of the Lord.  Though I may write about it here, my prayer is also that I will not be driven to boast about my achievement, whatever level it may be.  The hope?  That the result will be quiet, understated growth in me to the benefit of others and the glory of God.

How will you spend Advent?

A Psalm of Thanksgiving

Make a joyful noise to the Lord, all the earth!

Serve the Lord with gladness!

Come into His presence with singing!

Know that the Lord, He is God!

It is He Who made us, and we are His;

We are His people, and the sheep of His pasture.

Enter His gates with thanksgiving,

and His courts with praise!

Give thanks to Him; bless His Name!

For the Lord is good;

His steadfast love endures forever,

and His faithfulness to all generations.

Psalm 100, ESV

Well, another year has passed, and I’m still married.  Huh.  Who woulda thunk?  I might add a few words to Grover’s simplistic definition:  loving, sharing, asking forgiveness, forgiving, communicating, laughing, crying, dancing, holding hands, working, playing, resting, loving, sharing, asking forgiv. . . . . . . .You get the idea.

Happy 28th Anniversary, Brian.  You’re still the man!

There is a serenity about autumn.  The colors are softer, deeper.  Even the birds seem to reverence the season with their restrained songs.  God seems to invite me to sit, listen and reflect. 

The holidays loom large.  Endless lists abound:  groceries to collect now or later; chores divided and assigned to get the house ready; gifts to buy or make; the mental notes that may or may not make it onto a list.  The to-do’s of the season are breathtaking.  But even in all this busy-ness, I am drawn to stop and look. 

Autumn, with its turquoise sky and silvery gray clouds, beckons me to drink in the beauty that surrounds me.  That beauty is fleeting, and I don’t want to miss a moment of it.  I know that soon – too soon –  all those colors will fade to a dull brown.  The last leaves will release their tenuous grip, only to drift down, down, down to the crisp carpet below.  And the trees, only months before so proud in their lush green clothes, will stand naked and shivering in the cold winter wind.  But for now, I’ll enjoy autumn’s glory.

The crowds assemble at the Capitol Building - 9/12/09

We got close enough to the stage that we could easily hear and understand everything that was being said.   There were speakers, entertainers, dignitaries — each with his or her own take on the issues at hand:  a too-large federal government encroaching on states’ rights and individuals’ rights, a President with an ambitious and foolish agenda, a Congress turned deaf to the voice of the people.  We were taking it all in, this moment of history in which we’d been privileged to participate.  The placquards and banners that floated and waved above the immense crowd each illustrated the primary grievances of the person carrying it:  “No New Taxes”, “NObama”, and pertinent quotes from the likes of Jefferson and Lincoln.

Mr. Jefferson has something to say about the Nanny State.

At one point, an announcement was made that ABC had estimated the crowd in attendance at around 2 million, to which my sister, Amy, replied, “Then it must be double that!”  Those around us laughed at the insinuation that ABC (or any other part of the mainstream media) would never willingly give up a full count of the crowd.  The first time I looked back down onto Pennsylvania Avenue to take in the sea of people, I was amazed at what I saw.  People on the lawns, people on the streets, sidewalks, sitting in folding chairs and wheelchairs, listening, cheering, waving their signs.  People of all ages, colors, ethnic groups — there with one purpose.  We did not realize until later, at home on our computers as we visited various sites giving accounts of the march, how much larger the crowd was.  The pictures were breathtaking. 

Amy likes the Lincoln quote.

As the rally ended, we found ourselves chatting with people from various parts of the country, all of us still a bit excited from the day’s events.  The crowd thinned, moving back down the hill toward the street, and we became aware that the Capitol grounds were — clean!  No trash to be found anywhere that we could see.  There had been areas designated as trash receptacles by temporary fencing, and those were full.  But where people had been standing or sitting for hours, and no doubt many of them had eaten or drunk something in that time, it was pristine.

I leave my “9/12 March” saga here.  I’ve struggled with finishing my story for months, knowing I needed to write a conclusion.  Although it’s a paltry one, this will have to do.  I returned home from this trip and quickly fell sick with various maladies, spending a large part of Fall 2009 very ill.  Sickness has a way of refocusing your attention and energies.  We felt we had participated in a history-making event, something important.  I felt blessed that my children and I were included.  What was accomplished remains to be seen. 

The rest of that day and into the evening, we took in some of the sights of D.C. — the Washington Monument, the Lincoln and Jefferson Memorials, the World War II and Viet Nam Memorials.  Early the next morning, before leaving for home, we paid a visit to Arlington National Cemetery.  I hope that my children came away with the understanding that these aren’t just beautiful buildings and real estate; they represent this grand and glorious ideal called the United States of America.  They are reminders of the huge sacrifices by untold numbers of pilgrims, colonists, slaves, pioneers, soldiers and, yes, even 9/12 marchers to establish, build and preserve this great country.  I love the United States of America.  I pray that God, in His mercy, will continue to bless her.

Looking back at where we've been.

 

For your listening — and viewing — enjoyment!

In the bleak midwinter, frosty wind made moan,

Earth stood hard as iron, water like a stone;

Snow had fallen, snow on snow, snow on snow, 

In the bleak midwinter, long ago.

Our God, heav’n cannot hold him, nor earth sustain;

 Heav’n and earth shall welcome him when he comes to reign: 

In the bleak midwinter a stable-place sufficed

The Lord God incarnate, Jesus Christ.

Angels and archangels may have gather’d there,

Cherubim and seraphim thronged the air;

But his mother only, in her maiden bliss,

Worshipped the beloved with a kiss.

What can I give him, poor as I am? 

If I were a shepherd, I would bring a lamb;

If I were a wise man, I would do my part;

Yet what I can I give him, give my heart.

I’ve noticed over the last several years that people in my hometown are eager to put up their holiday displays and lights early — so eager, in fact, that they barely get the Halloween lights and cobwebs down before the requisite red-and-green variety is up and flashing.  The inflated jack-o-lanterns are quickly replaced by inflated Nativities (eewww!), and the candy corn that once filled bowls is now surely replaced by those cheery red-and-green M&M’s.  (On a side note:  My first reaction to these premature displays is the question, “What happened to Thanksgiving?”, — I mean, can’t some enterprising manufacturer come up with an inflatable cornucopia? — but since this post is about Christmas, or more specifically Advent, I’ll leave that subject to another post, another day.) 

For the last few years, since we purposely drifted away from the evangelical church over to the liturgical/sacramental realm, we’ve been making a slow transition into following the liturgical calendar more consciously.  The easiest change initially was observing Lent; everybody knows about Lent!  That’s where you give up something (just for a while), right?  Sort of. . .

Approaching the Christmas holidays was somewhat different, however.  Let’s face it; while  the rest of the world is decorating, caroling, shopping, partying and baking, we lit/sac types are busy. . .with. . .uh, wait a minute. . .I’ll think of it.  Oh, yes, we’re busy with minor-key hymns and Advent readings, none of which has anything to do with sleighbells or reindeer or decking the halls or any of the other secular trappings that so symbolize today’s American Christmas.  Don’t get me wrong.  I like many of those trappings; they are cheery and happy and MERRY!  But just not now, not yet.

Advent observes not only the promise of the Messiah’s birth; it anticipates His second coming.  But it also mirrors that period of time BEFORE He came, a time of darkness in the world, a waiting for Light, for Salvation.  So the tone of Advent is not one of celebration, but of soberness, reflection, self-examination.  The lighting of first one candle in the Advent wreath, and the adding of subsequent candles, one each week leading up to Christmas Day, symbolize the growing anticipation of the Messiah’s appearance and the Light coming into the world.  And then, on that glorious Day of Christmas, the white candle is lighted, and the Celebration begins!   

Now, here I have to confess that, in the midst of the Advent season, my mind is also looking ahead to Christmas and the things I have to do to get myself and my family ready for those twelve days of celebration.  And I also confess that, by the end of the day, I’m spent and sometimes can hardly think of nothing else but climbing the stairs and falling into bed, let alone gathering everybody around the Advent wreath for a reading and our chosen “O Come, O Come Emmanuel”.  We fall short sometimes of our intended goal of a nightly reading (last night I consoled myself with the thought that we went to church in the morning, so we’ll pick up again tonight.)  Even (especially?) my failings teach me and reinforce the truth that it is God’s grace and mercy that save me, not my paltry efforts at religion.  Praise God that He is merciful and patient and that He loved me (us all!) enough to send His Son to be the Light of the world!  

For this perishable must put on the imperishable, and this mortal must put on immortality.  But when this perishable will have put on the imperishable, and this mortal will have put on immortality, then will come about the saying that is written, “Death is swallowed up in victory.  O Death, where is your victory?  O Death, where is your sting?”  The sting of death is sin, and the power of sin is the law; but thanks be to God, who gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ.       (1 Corinthians 15:53-57)

Eleven years ago today, we delivered a stillborn child (at 5 months gestation.)  As this year, it was the end of Thanksgiving weekend.  I  was aware on Friday of that weekend that I couldn’t remember feeling her move since the day before Thanksgiving.  At first I just brushed the thought of trouble away, blaming it on being too busy to notice.  But by Saturday morning, I was certain that something was terribly wrong, and a trip to the hospital and my doctor’s ultrasound test confirmed my fears.  Dr. Parnell handled the situation with tenderness and respect.  Soon after, I was admitted to the hospital and we began the process of inducing to deliver.

The next morning, Sunday, the baby was delivered, and Dr. Parnell gently laid her on my bed.  He explained that the umbilical cord had strangled her.  And then he showed us her left hand.  It wasn’t as fully-formed as the right, which led him to speculate about other more hidden problems.  This was not an attempt to present this event as a blessing of being spared the care and keeping of a less-than-perfect child; he was simply giving us the whole picture.  I’ve always appreciated his candor and respect.   He and the nurse left us with her for a while.  We both held her:  she was so small, barely past the length of my hand.  Then we parted with her, and I was taken to a room to recover and spend the night.  I went home the next day, not with a baby in my arms, but with a little blue satin-covered box which contained mementos of our experience.  It seemed odd and sad at the time, but a few times over the years, having that box has been a comfort.

Blessings abounded in the days and weeks that followed:  the goodness of family and friends, the support of church family, the generosity of people with real answers to material needs (a burial plot given to us by my dear Aunt Dorothy; a headstone given by my sister Amy) and the very real comfort of coming home that first day to children who, even at their young ages, somehow knew how to treat me and love me and need me (some credit here may go to Grandmommy, who took care of them during those days I was absent.)  I was very grateful for our littlest one, Bess, who was just barely two years of age.  What a comfort and a joy to hold her!

Because we believed (and still do believe) that an unborn child is fully human, created in the image of God, Brian and I knew that we needed to plan a funeral, and that we needed to name the baby.  Thinking of the verses above gave us her name:  Victoria Grace.  We’ve never shortened her name, as we did those of our other children.  We’ve always called her by the full appellation.  It seems necessary and right:  it says something about her short life here, about our response to her death, and most importantly, about God in the midst of it all.  His grace IS sufficient, and He has proven that to me many times over the years.  I look forward to meeting Victoria Grace someday, when and where there is NO death but only life eternal.