May Your New Year Be Chock Full of Chocolates!

A Prayer for Your New Year--and Ours

Dear God of all the chocolates in the universe,

May we receive with joy every gift you open Your good hand to give us this year--

 even as children receive good gifts from their earthly parents.

May we be filled with wonder at the gifts of Your grace and Your mercy,

of Your compassion and Your love.
Which of those gifts is more wonderful than the others?
Just as children wait expectantly for the best choice of that yard of chocolate
purchased at 75% off at Walgreens,
may we watch and wait to receive the gifts from your hand
that can never be valued with money.

The gifts that are priceless
such as the gift of Your Word...

 

and the light You shed upon it,

even as the light of a lamp reveals Your Word in the very early morning hours

while the children are still sleeping under the Christmas tree.

 Grant us to desire the Bread of Life
as much or more than our daily bread which You so faithfully supply,
although at times it be beans and chicken soup.

 May the beauty of Your presence cheer every lonely path,
and may hope and faith blossom more fully in our hearts every day.

Remove the dust and dirt from living life last year,
and the year before that,
and the year before that...

 

the dust and grime that has clogged the channels of our lives.

 

May the magnetic screwdriver of Your compassion

draw out every sharp pain of insults, grudges and grievances...

and the pinpricks of the annoyances of daily life

that so often are more annoying than the major hurts--

the pins that poke--

found in the strangest of places in the recesses of our vulnerable human hearts.

Pour in, we pray, the oil of Your Spirit

to speed the healing of last year's wounds,

to keep the gears of our new year running smoothly

May Your eye be on all your little brown sparrows. 

 When we pack away our Christmas decorations,
may Christ remain the centerpiece of our homes.

When life turns upside down on us,

may we find ourselves looking up. 

 May every sunrise fill us with hope.

 

Teach us the lessons You want us to learn,

and give us open hearts to learn them!

 

 Grant us the wisdom to accept the things we cannot change--
all those missing puzzle pieces...

the courage to change the things we can,

and the wisdom to know the difference.

Knowing that in that great day when You return,

we will know as we are known.

We will understand it better by and by.

Was There Room at the Manger for Her?

She had sat in the service Sunday evening, listening to the visiting preacher, the son-in-law of the pastor, talking about why the King of Glory had come to a manger.

Why had He come to a manger?

 The preacher had used big words like "alienation," and "association," "accessibility," and

"announcement," all alliterated like a wonderful sermon is supposed to be--to help us to remember the points. 

But then there were all the simple words in between the big words of the outline--

to help us understand and relate--like the dawning of a new day against the dark of an opening amaryllis on the kitchen windowsill.

 That young visiting preacher had said that Jesus came to the manger, there being no room at the inn--because He wanted to be able to relate to people that nobody wanted--people for whom society or family has no room, people who were in financial messes, and family messes.

 He wanted to be able to relate to the least and the lowest--the dirty, grimy, smelly shepherds, for example.

 He wanted to be accessible to everyone--however small, or ugly, or fat, or stupid, or slow, or not-too-smart, or skinny or tired or poor.

 The shepherds--and does that mean cowboys?

And carpenters who make sawdust, and plumbers who clean out other people's sewer pipes, and remodelers who make a huge mess before they make something nice?

 And does that mean the wives of the cowboys or ranchers or homesteaders, 

the wives of the plumbers and remodelers and blue collar workers?

The ones who sweep up a storm of drywall dust behind the remodelers--and sometimes create dust of their own--and get caught in photos they didn't know were happening--and in messes they don't know what to do with?

The home schooling moms who are the misfits of society?

She had sat there, and listened to the words the preacher used:

"Room at the Manger."

 After the message, the pastor had invited the church family to gather around the altar for a time of prayer.
And just at the end of prayer time, her suddenly feeling like she wasn't worth anything, like every time she opened her mouth she stuck her foot in, 

she had thought again about those words,

"Room at the Manger."

Room for people like her?

And there was this intense desire to go up on the platform to the window scene in the baptistry behind the pulpit to touch the little wooden manger with the little replica of the baby Jesus in it--But wouldn't that look ridiculous?

Instead, she found herself crying and being held tight in the arms of a white-haired grandma who whispered something into her ears as she shook like a leaf.

She could not stop crying. People must not see her cry like this.
It was so stupid to just want to go and touch a manger.

She grabbed her coat and hurried outside the church. People must not see her cry like this.

They would not understand. Why should she hug a manger?

So she hurried into the darkness--and suddenly, there in the distance--was another manger--

all lit up in the front yard of the parsonage. 

She could not understand what drew her to this silly plastic thing?

This plastic figure of Jesus and his mother and Joseph--and of course, a manger.

The plastic yellow straw was spilling over the edge of the manger, and tears were spilling over the edge of where they belonged. 

And she hoped nobody would see--her being so stupid, her heart sobbing in front of the manger.

She turned around quickly. No one must see her. It was so dumb. 

No, no one had seen her.

No one saw the tears in the dark van on the way home from church.

 And it wasn't until she was in bed that night, shaking with tears beside her husband, saying just this,

that she had been so profoundly touched with what the preacher said about "room at the manger,"

that she realized that she had never understood before, 

quite this clearly, the love  that sent the Lord Jesus to the manger.

 And like the gentle but unremitting light of the dawning of a new day, 

the understanding of His love for her personally took on a new meaning.

 He could have chosen to be born in a palace, in order to relate to the the rich and the smart and the nice, good, well-liked people.

But He chose the opposite--because most of us--really all of us--

are not so very smart or rich or good.

He lay, the preacher had said, in the feeding trough of stable animals 

in order to become the Bread that would feed the hungry hearts, the poor, the unloved of society. 

No wonder she had wanted to touch a manger!

Usually, when the tears wouldn't stop like that, she couldn't go to sleep.

But before she knew it, wrapped in the arms of that wonderful love that had shone out to her from the long ago manger, 

she fell asleep.

Love Came Down at Christmas

It was one of the happiest Christmases we ever had!

It was wonderful to just stay home and celebrate as a family--and then later spend a few hours with

my sister Iva's family who had called and asked if they could come join us for Christmas.

Jonathan had plumb surprised me on Christmas Eve by bringing in a new bed for him and me and setting it up in the livingroom while I was in finishing wrapping gifts. There it was in the middle of the livingroom when I came out--to replace the dilapidated and sinking-in-the-middle bed we had!

And the best part is that he got this new bed where a motel was remodeling--for just $15.

I got a good night's rest, with my shoulder/back problem somewhat improved by morning. 

After breakfast, Jonathan read from a Christmas Ideals magazine, a selection about keeping Christmas all year long, and a Scripture selection about Mary's announcement to Elizabeth.

 We usually have a special Christmas breakfast--usually omelets with toppings. This time I chose mushrooms, bacon, and avocado. Others like bacon and cheese.

 Jonathan always adds jalapenos! And salsa on top then.

 Jonathan said the dishes had to be done and Mom said the house needed to be straightened before we opened the rest of the gifts. (We open some on Christmas Eve, and then save a few nice ones for Christmas morning.) Our girls had been very, very busy in the last few weeks, lovingly sewing and knitting for their brothers and sisters. They made new book bags for the boys.

 A hat for Hannah--knitted by Rose.

 Nightgowns homemade or almost new from the Goodwill for all the girls, and Bibles, books or hymn CD's for some. 

 This one I made, with a little help from Crystal.

 I didn't have enough of one kind of flannel, so I made the front one way, and the back the other. These homemade gifts are the highlights!

Though the scooter bought off Craig's List, and the radio controlled zoomers for the boys came in pretty close.

 Then later in the morning as mom and girls start on meal preparations for company, Jonathan and Sam head up on the roof to clean out the chimney.

It was so clogged with creosote, poor Old Santa Claus just didn't make it down this year! :)

 Jonathan ran a big chain down the chimney, knocking creosote down.

 We made a fruit dish with pineapple, kiwi, and apples...

 and delicious popcorn balls made with molasses and brown sugar. They were so good, that I hate to confess I ate about six of them myself!

 Iva had called about a week ago, asking if they could join us for Christmas, and of course, I said yes! She arrived with this delightful ham.

 Gathered around the dinner table, we sang "What Can I Give Him--Give Him My Heart,"

to the tune of "In the Bleak Midwinter," and then Jonathan returned thanks. 

I loved singing that little verse before the Christmas dinner. 

There was such a sense of reverence as we finished singing in three or four part harmony.

That moment of quiet, sincere reverence was the most precious moment of Christmas to me.

May we truly give Jesus our heart, not just one time in our life, but every Christmas,

and every day of the year.

 And so then we dug in to the mashed potatoes, gravy, green beans, turkey, ham, and banana bread.

Yes, our meal was pretty simple this year.

 Desserts came later, after I washed a huge stack of dishes, and the men and children took this load of alfalfa hay out to the steers. What a merry Christmas for the steers! We were so thankful to have found this somewhat weathered hay at just $25 per 850-lb. bale rather than $100-200 like usual. The steers were very, very happy.

 Iva and girls played Probe.

 Then Kenn did.

 

And Rose made these charming Christmas marshmallow treats dipped in chocolate.

 We had hoped to maybe carol like last year, but Iva's family needed to get on home before it snowed, and I did not feel the greatest, especially after a blood vessel burst in my eye on Christmas Eve.

So instead we all headed to bed early, the children cozying up under the Christmas tree lights while Jonathan read a Christmas story from Little House on the Prairie, about the Christmas Laura and Mary thought they were not going to have, and how Mr. Edwards surprised them by crossing the swollen creek and bringing the girls peppermint candy and two new tin cups!

Hannah went to sleep on my lap--and I have to admit, I just sat there enjoying my littlest daughter all konked out on me! 

 I've always loved the stories of little Laura Ingalls' Christmases--so simple because they were so poor, yet so happy because there were low expectations and so much love!

One tin cup, one peppermint cane, one little sugar cake, and one penny made Laura and her sister

supremely happy. 

And it's true our family had more than that this Christmas, but this time expectations were low,

we spent Christmas in our own home, and so many of the gifts were homemade with love.

I didn't think Laura and Mary could have been much happier than we were yesterday.

 It was a wonderful ending to a wonderful Christmas! Even our geranium celebrated in Christmas colors on the windowsill!

 And so today, after a busy morning and chopping veggies for a huge crockpot of chili to take to any and all hard-working relatives packing and working at Grandma and pa's new house tomorrow,  I have sorted through one of the big stacks of papers on Jonathan's desk, filing and throwing away,  while uploading photos--

to share our happy Christmas with you!