Christmas Eve Butchering and Other Projects

When Tim and Carrie arrived on Christmas Eve, we were ready to start butchering the deer that Danny had gotten a few days earlier and that had been hanging in the barn. Not our favorite Christmas project, but one that had to be done, and certainly before Christmas Day itself!

We got busy butchering to the tune of Carrie and Crystal practicing Christmas music for the evening service way back behind the tree. Thankfully a deer doesn't take as long as an elk, and we could have the last of the meat packaged and stowed in a couple hours.

It was fun showing Sam my newest book and for Tim to show Dad something on his phone.

It was even more fun to see a gift being built on Christmas Day--shelves for the office!

Yay!

Christmas afternoon, we went on a hike to the mini Badlands, as we call them, just a few miles away. 

It was so fun just doing something simple like this together with all the family--

including myself who managed to take part--rejoicing silently that I was well enough to bundle up and walk, too, and watch our children enjoying themselves. 

Christmas Egg in Evergreen

  It's not every day that I discover an egg right in the middle of my Christmas decor on my kitchen window sill!

I don't know how it got there or where it came from--other than from a chicken, of course. 

But there it sat, rather out of place, right in front of the little aspen nameplate with the name of Christ--the One Who chose to arrive, so out of place it must have seemed, on this earth from glory, like that egg in evergreen.

On days when I was feeling too tired and terrible from chemo side effects to keep working all afternoon, I read Christmas story after story in a gem of a book I have called Guideposts Christmas Treasury.

In that book, the stories run the gamut from stories about poor people who miraculously got a Christmas tree and gifts

to a story of an immigrant girl whose employer's family had so much more than they could ever need or want that she didn't know what to give as a gift for Christmas, so she found her way to the poorest section of town and bought and gave a baby gift for a very poor family and then gave a card to her employers telling them she had given a gift to a poor family's baby in their name, and it melted their hearts. 

Then there was the story of the family who decided they'd had enough of the frustrating fuss at Christmas time, and they were going to simplify and have a "sensible" Christmas. They decided to not include the annoying old aunt and uncle, only spend $1 on each other for gifts, and go out to eat on Christmas Day instead of slave all day making a feast.

They did so, but by afternoon on Christmas, the sensibleness fell apart and everyone realized that no one was happy at all with what they had done--or more honestly, had not done.

In making Christmas "sensible" to the point of being selfish, the family had lost the mysterious quality of that beautiful celebration that was meant to be a time of love and giving and sharing and receiving and joy and generosity-- 

 

Everyone took the blame, and the next Christmas, they poured their whole hearts into everything--including welcoming the same stodgy uncle and aunt whom they used to sort of despise, but who seemed extra easy to handle this time and who made a special sacrifice to provide a loving gift each year, something the children had never appreciated before.

 

This Christmas we found ways to simplify yet ways to celebrate generously with much love with almost all the family in.

It was a beautiful Christmas--remembering the greatest Gift of all--

Jesus Who came from Glory and nestled, like an out-of-place egg in evergreen,

in a manger, a stable, a miserable world 

that desperately needed a Savior,

and love,

and joy.

Deeper, Deeper This New Year

Last Sunday morning found us at the White River Nazarene Church where the pastor had asked Jonathan if he would fill in for her while she was away. I was impressed with the unique Christmas display in the corner of the platform.

  

(I thought to myself that I much preferred this Christ-centered theme rather than a tree!)

During the music time, one of the hymns sung was "Deeper, Deeper." 

 Deeper, deeper in the love of Jesus
Daily let me go;
Higher, higher in the school of wisdom,
More of grace to know.

Oh, deeper yet, I pray,
And higher ev'ry day,
And wiser, blessed Lord,
In Thy precious, holy word.

The words had been written, I discovered when I did a search online, by a Charles Price Jones, a black Baptist preacher from Georgia, the same state where former President Jimmy Carter just died today at the age of 100. Both Baptist men, but very different stripes! Charles Jones deeply sought God and preached holiness of heart and life, founding a holiness church. He wrote about 1000 hymns! (See https://hymnary.org/person/Jones_CharlesPrice)

Deeper, deeper! blessed Holy Spirit,
Take me deeper still,
Till my life is wholly lost in Jesus,
And His perfect will.

Some of the words were coming back to me tonight after I went to bed--but not to sleep. 

"Deeper, deeper! tho' it cost hard trials,
Deeper let me go!
Rooted in the holy love of Jesus,
Let me fruitful grow."

I don't know how hard a trial I can say I am having with this cancer--including now losing all my hair--when I compare my trials with those who live with constant pain, the many displaced refugees, persecuted Christians, languishing prisoners, and suffering soldiers on front lines in Ukraine and Russia and Israel. 

There were just a few wisps of hair left yesterday, and I decided it was time.

Time for a buzz cut so I wouldn't look so ridiculous. Crystal tried to do the job as cheerfully as possible, but I only looked more ridiculous!

One daughter had thought I should cut it all off, and when I did, two boys in the kitchen thought I should have left what was left!

The people I feel sorry for are the ones who have to look at me. 

I am trying not to waste energy feeling sorry for myself--though I have my moments of grief. 

So I focus on other people, other cheerful things, and words like these:

Deeper, higher, ev'ry day in Jesus,

Till all conflict past,

Finds me conqu’ror, and in His own image

Perfected at last.

As we enter a new year, may our desire be to go deeper in the love of Jesus! I am tired now, and I know that simple statement isn't all that eloquent, but since my feet in bed were hot (sometimes they are cold, but neuropathy from chemo does weird things to me) I decided to get up to cool off and write these little thoughts. 

Whatever hard trials You ask us to go through, Lord, we know You will give abundant grace!

Thank You for that grace today! 

Christmas Eve--and a Young Child's Awe

Christmas Eve day arrived, and with it Tim and Carrie and her two happy dogs whose whole bodies wag whenever they wag their tails! 

Danny wasn't too happy about two more dogs in his way, but he didn't mind the fresh whirly donuts Carrie made for supper. And we had a chicken chowder on the menu, but time got away from us,(and so did energy) and we just made some simple Open-face Turkey sandwiches grilled in the oven since there would be more treats after Christmas Eve service.

Christmas Sunday and Christmas Eve both, Crystal played beautiful arrangements on the piano. 

Hannah was asked to light the candles.

She also played a Christmas song, "There's a Song in the Air."

 

I sang a Rosetti Christmas medley of "In the Bleak Midwinter" and "Love Came Down at Christmas," both written by Christina Rosetti, two of my favorite Christmas songs.

Carrie and Crystal did an arrangement of "O Holy Night."

It wasn't until later that night that someone told me about the little boy whose family was visiting in the Christmas Eve service that night.

He had been mesmerized by the girls playing "O Holy Night." 

He said to his mom, "I think I'm going to cry because the music is so beautiful." 

He was maybe six years old.

When I heard that, it was I who almost cried!

This was a little boy who struggles with allergies to nearly every food imaginable, and who we'd never seen in church before, from a distance away. But his family had decided to attend our service that night here in White River--

and his little heart had been deeply touched with something that he was not allergic to--

beautiful music. 

As we filed up one by one to light our candle as we sang "Silent Night," we were just a small and humble group of worshipers, 

including a little boy and his sister, surrounded by beautiful music and touched once again by the purpose for which Jesus came. 

Sourdough Bread--Learning to Accept the Bitter

Back in November, my sister-in-law Regina brought me both sourdough bread and sourdough starter.

Last week I finally worked up the courage to try my own hand at making a batch of sourdough bread--

four loaves.

And they turned out fairly nice! I need to add more flour next time, as these loaves were a little too light and crumbly, but for the first time in years I could eat a piece of bread fresh from the oven without immediately blowing up with pain. 

The taste was more sour than my usual bread, and the rising time had taken nearly 24 hours altogether, but there was zero yeast in the breast and my digestive system was able to handle it.  The gluten had been predigested by the sourdough starter working.

Despite its bit of sour taste, like some of the sour things we end up tasting and facing in life, it was good bread!

 The mixture of tough things along with the flour of life builds our character. 

And that takes time.

 Not all hard things go away fast. Just as time is required for the sourdough to work, we must endure trials and difficulties with patience--and hopefully grace, letting patience have her perfect work, that we may be perfect and entire, lacking nothing.

I need more of Your grace, Lord! 

Out of Nothing a Way Will Be Made

  A sweet friend sent me this card recently, and because it meant so much to me, I hung it on the fridge.

"Faith reminds us that out of nothing, a way will be made."

The message helps when I sit down to make phone calls to ask medical providers for self-pay discounts and then pay the bills. 

The message helps with other things, too, knowing that with God, a way will be made.

It may not be our way.

It may not be a comfortable way.

But it will be a way made through the storm, 

the valley,

the darkness,

the pain,

the stuck places,

the dead ends and closed doors.

Lord, for all those needing a way made through hopeless stuck places and problems, 

make that way.

Look Who Appeared Out of Nowhere!

Last Saturday we had a huge surprise! Danny was waiting for someone to arrive who buys antlers when we saw a strange pickup with a goose neck arriving down below and stopping. 

"He doesn't know where to turn around," Danny guessed, running down with his tub of antlers he's collected.

He came up to the man in the truck and stopped and stared.

"You're not the antler man!" he gasped.

Up at the house, I was on the phone with an old acquaintance when I turned around and saw these two familiar faces appearing from the hall behind the coffee bar. They stood there looking at me while it dawned on me who they were.

Then there I was, screaming while on the phone, telling my friend she got in on my daughter surprising us, and letting her know I had to let her go now so I could greet Rose and Tom!

It couldn't have been a more perfect time! All five of us happened to be home that day, and had even had a late lunch, so we were all at the house. Tom's employer had purchased a new forklift somewhere near North Platte and needed someone to pick it up. Knowing Rose's parents lived in South Dakota, he asked if Tom and Rose wanted to go to South Dakota! He had them drive his truck and trailer, paid all their gas, and paid Tom for the hours to and from North Platte!

And we got to enjoy their company for the weekend! One night Rose asked if her daddy could read one of our family stories that I used to write years ago for Christmas gifts for Jonathan to read to the children--stories about them, of course, but maybe with different names to make it like it wasn't about them--but they loved it!

Stories like "The Pig That Would Not Die," "Great Jumping Jehoshaphat," "Mrs. Wow," and "The Scream on the Mountainside."

Rose and Hannah had fun playing strings together, and even played a Christmas special at church for both Sunday morning and evening services. 

And when we came home, Danny dressed up Aspen in his Sunday coat!

She was not impressed. 

A fun family evening Sunday night after church.  

Rose and Tom opened Christmas gifts early since they won't be able to be here this Christmas. They are taking turns spending Christmas with Tom's folks this year since they were here last Christmas.  

Look at the beautiful homemade gifts Hannah knitted or sewed for her big sister! 

 

Tom enjoying opening his gift. 

What a beautiful gift Tom's employer gave us in making a way for Tom and Rose to come surprise us and spend a day and a half with us!

When the Call Drops--Again!

When we lost the second call to Dakota Imaging while driving across I-90 home from Rapid City last week, it was very frustrating. 

You know the routine. You call a medical provider's number. First you listen to any number of options and choose one. Maybe or maybe not you'll get conencted then to a real person. The purpose of my call was to ask if the nearly $1,200 bill for a chest CT scan could be discounted due to our being self-pay rather than having insurance. Each time, I got a different person answering (sounding like maybe they worked from another country and had learned English as a second language).  Both times the speaker put me on hold while they went to check on what the discount might be for a self-pay patient.

And then the call would drop. After it happened twice I gave up calling the billing number. Instead, Jonathan decided to call straight through to Dakota Imaging. Perhaps by chance someone at that number would be able to help us.

A real person answered. Within a minute or two, in fact, after Jonathan explained our bill and our self-pay situation and how some providers will give us a steep discount for self-pay, she said she would only charge us the "Medicaid rate."

Jonathan didn't bother asking what that meant, assuming it was a decent discount. She said to wait for a new bill.  

And we looked at each other in amazement. Had God allowed those dropped calls for a reason?

This week I received my new bill. 

To my amazement, the lady had snipped the bill down by about 75%.

Had the first two calls not dropped, I don't know what sort of bill we would still be staring at, but thanks to God making two calls drop along Highway 90, we now have a bill that we are better able to pay. 

More and more, I am learning to make the best of things that seem to go wrong.
There may be a really good reason for it.
God may be orchestrating something so much better for us than we hoped.

Locking Horns with Antibiotics--and Other Unwanted Things

It seems there's been no end of medical rigamarole lately. If it's not traveling hours into Rapid City for medical appointments and chemo, it's fielding one phone call after another today to one pharmacy after another to find one that has the prescribed antibiotic in stock in time to start this weekend.

I feel like I'm locking horns with antibiotics, like one of the bighorn rams locking horns last week on the hillside above the highway we were driving after chemo and before finding Christmas trees.  

Suddenly we came upon this flock of bighorn sheep just up from the road, so we turned around to come back and take pictures. 

Now I'm having immediate infection issues after chemo, and another round of that horrible antibiotic is prescribed. First it was such a huge pill that my throat, already swollen from chemo, could hardly swallow it. Then the pill was un-coated and powdery, leaving residue in my throat the whole painful way down. 

And then my throat would be so irritated I could hardly breathe, esp. at night. 

I called to find out if the doctor could prescribe a different version of the same antibiotic, maybe in capsule form?
He did!

But the dose was so high that the concerned pharmacist had to call the doctor to double check the dosage. 

My brain is spinning, and I remember I only have to take one day at a time, releasing antibiotics and all other unwanted things, into the hands of God.

For today, I can wait while the family is at staff Christmas party and shopping--and picking up my antibiotic. I can be grateful I am feeling better than yesterday, and able to cook one turkey breast after another in my instapot (thanks to a big box of frozen turkey breasts donated to the mission), then cooling, taking meat off bones, packaging to refreeze, and--the best part--giving the bones and skin and scraps to the dog, especially mama-to-be Aspen, who seems ravenous as her due date approaches for having puppies. 

I can enjoy the sunshine outside, and the Christmas decorations the girls put up so tastefully, even if none of them except one was bought this year.

Oh, except for Christmas tree lights that Hannah bought because she didn't like the old ones.

  

And I can jar molasses from a gallon jug, so we can bake gingerbread and molasses cookies, and maybe make popcorn balls with something besides sugar that gives my kids sore throats almost right away. There are so many Cristmas junk foods, desserts, and cookies. But this year, we must try to use more molasses and less sugar--to stay as well as possible.

So even if I have to take awful antibiotics still, I am blessed. I could lock horns about it and stew and fret. Or I can accept what can't be helped and find ways to make life meaningful for myself in others, with Christ always at the helm. 

The days are too short for fretting.

"There is a place of full release--near to the heart of God."