Watch for the Light

It's an early morning in December, still dark outside. I curl up into the overstuffed couch, wrapped in my pink fleece robe. Efforts to get up and be productive are more of a challenge these days with cold, gray mornings and frigid temperatures icing the windows.

I force my sleep-fogged eyes to focus on what I'm reading. Moments of quiet before the day is off and running are an antidote for the winter darkness. In addition to reading my Bible, I'm also reading Watch for the Light: Readings for Advent and Christmas. I'm so pleased that I received a copy of this book from the publisher to review.  I find myself looking forward to quiet moments each day. I don't even mind that it's still dark!

At first, I thought this book would be a more typical seasonal devotional--short, meaningful stories with a takeaway biblical principle. Though I always enjoy a good devotional book, Watch for the Light is different. This book is a collection of readings from a wide variety of classic and contemporary sources: C.S. Lewis, Dorothy Day, Philip Yancey, T. S. Eliot, Annie Dillard, Martin Luther, and many others. There's a selection for each day of the Christmas season, starting with the last week of November through the first week of January.

These writings are no-fluff. Some are poems, some are longer essays, but rich in meaning and well worth taking time to read and ponder. I've decided I'm not in a hurry to complete this book on schedule, though you could easily read individual selections when you have time--and still find it valuable.

I'll probably be reading Watch for the Light into January. It will be meaningful to consider the thoughts and inspirations of these novelists, poets, theologians, and composers from long ago and from more contemporary times. I'm reminded in these dark days preceding Christmas, to watch for the light, the coming of our Savior, Jesus Christ. If you were going to add one book to your Advent and Christmas reading, I highly recommend this one. As the editors point out, "it will give new meaning to the phrase 'holiday preparations.'" 

Be a Burden Bearer

When I was 33-years old, I slipped on an icy sidewalk and fractured my knee cap. Ouch! I never dreamed how much something that looked like a simple "skinned knee" could impact my life. In an instant, I had been sidelined. It was as if God had grabbed me and said, "You, Deb. Time out. You're benched until further notice." I had an inkling that I'd been hiding

from my emotional pain. The reality that my husband Randy was an alcoholic lurked in my thoughts. But if I stayed busy enough, I could  avoid the truth that was too painful to confront.

I spent weeks on the couch, my leg in a huge plaster cast from my ankle to my thigh. I couldn't run away--even if I wanted to. Instead, I had a front row seat to observe what was happening in my marriage--and it wasn't pretty.

A friend had told me about a Christian counseling practice in Seattle called Burden Bearers. She encouraged me to call and make an appointment. I remember the day my friend loaded me and my crutches into the backseat of her Ford Pinto, my bulky cast propped on the console. She drove me to my first counseling appointment at Burden Bearers--an important step on my journey toward healing.

A burden bearer was exactly what I needed--and what Jesus commands us to be for others, like my friend was for me.

     Galatians 6:2 tells us:  Carry each other's burdens, and in this way you will fulfill the law of Christ. 

It's true that sometimes we feel too weak and overwhelmed to carry another person's burdens. That's when God sends people to help us. Since my knee injury, I've had many opportunities to help someone else who's carrying a heavy load. It's usually in an area where I've also walked and learned and grown--and experienced God's faithfulness and mercy.

I love the story from the book of Mark, about the paralytic man who is carried to Jesus on a mat by his four friends. They're convinced Jesus can help him. When they can't get close enough to Jesus because of the crowds, they take matters into their own hands.They climb up on the roof and make an opening so they can lower their paralyzed friend down --right in front of Jesus. That took some boldness. I probably would've said, I guess we aren't going to see Jesus today...and resigned myself to that. But these friends were determined. They were desperate to help their friend. We will get him to Jesus--no matter what! These friends are burden bearers in every sense of the word.

So what does it mean to come alongside someone in a time of need? How can you be a burden bearer?

•  Be Available

          You don't need all the answers or a degree in counseling. You need to be willing to listen and offer support. Let your friend know she isn't walking this road alone. Sometimes your quiet presence means everything.    

•  Be Bold

           Be a "roof ripper," as a friend of mine described the actions of the paralytic man's friends.  Step out of your comfort zone. Send the note or email. Even better, make the phone call. Offer to be a burden bearer.  

• Be Compassionate

It's easy to get caught up in our daily routines and not be aware of others who are hurting. Bob Pierce, the founder of World Vision, said:

                    Let my heart be broken by the things that break the heart of God. 
         
         And then help me do something about it. Take action. Get beyond my own self-centered  thinking. Lord, help us be connected with others so we'll know when there's a need.   

Our world is filled with hurt and pain. You don't have to look far to find opportunities to reach out to others who are struggling. I can hardly imagine where I'd be today if I hadn't had friends who came to carry me through some tough times. I am so grateful for the opportunity to pass this comfort on to others.

Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves have received from God. 2 Corinthians 1: 3-4 

Who is in your life who needs a burden bearer?

                                                                                      

 

What I've Learned through a Lifetime of Marriage

My husband Randy and I recently celebrated 44 years of marriage.

Our anniversary celebration at Steak 'N Shake

Wow--how can that be possible when we're only 30+ years old? Well... we haven't been that age for a long time, but it's still hard to imagine we've spent most of a lifetime together.

When we first got married, I had this naive notion that all we needed was love. Da...da...da...da... da....All you need is love...All together now...When I hear those words, I automatically want to burst into song. Never mind about the misunderstandings and the immaturity of two 19 year-olds who are going to become parents before their first anniversary. As long as we have love, we will stay together. Wasn't that also a song? Love will keep us together. If only it were that simple.

We do need love, but not the kind Hollywood portrays or most of us envision. I remember seeing the movie Love Story with Randy when we were dating. Ryan O'Neal and Ali MacGraw (can you believe she's 75?) looked deeply into each other's eyes and proclaimed, Love means never having to say you're sorry.

How sweet (and unrealistic) is that? But that's the love I was looking for...where romantic feelings never fade and you sail off together as best friends and lovers without a disagreement or ever raising your voice or crying yourself to sleep.

After 44 years and weathering many marital ups and downs, I've learned a lot about real-life relationships:

• There's no such thing as 50/50 in marriage. Many times you'll be the one giving more than you bargained for. It would be nice if everything were split neatly in half. The reality is that each of you will be called on at different times to give more than your share. It's also good not to keep score.   

• Recognize the myth of the greener grass. It's possible there is "greener grass," but many of us see the grass and want to vault over the fence without considering the costs. The repercussions of an affair are devastating for everyone. Two families are directly affected, as well as extended family and friends. Life is never the same after trust in a marriage has been broken. God can heal and bring reconciliation, but the price paid is excruciatingly high.

• Love the one you're with. What would happen if you intentionally treated your spouse as if you really loved him/her? Not the Love Story type of love, but love that's patient, kind, steadfast in sickness and in health, in good times and bad times. God's kind of love that never fails.  

Randy and I have been blessed to experience this love in our marriage. It didn't come naturally, though. It took a lot of pain and struggle and heartache. We both realized the ability to love well was only possible if we were willing to get beyond our selfishness. As we experienced God's grace, we were then able to begin to love each other unconditionally. Not perfectly, but in a way that says I want the best for you. I'm willing to do whatever I can to encourage you, to build you up, to help you become the person God created you to be.

And guess what? I found out I married the right guy-- the one who has been God's gift to me for almost a lifetime. And yes, we've learned that saying you're sorry is at the top of the list!

If you're struggling to love your spouse, there is hope! Small acts of kindness can be a good starting place. I would love to pray with you and encourage you to believe that God's love never fails. 

 

        








  

Let Freedom Never Be Forgotten

In the late 1970s, Randy and I and our two sons spent three years stationed on Okinawa, Japan with the Air Force. On our first 4^th of July overseas, we gathered with other families of the 15^th Tactical Reconnaissance Squadron to celebrate the freedoms I had often taken for granted.

If I closed my eyes, I could almost imagine being back home and not on an island the size of New Jersey. I savored the familiar aroma of barbecued hamburgers and hotdogs. Picnic tables laden with steaming corn-on-the-cob, baked beans, and even juicy watermelon, an expensive delicacy in the Far East, waited for the lineup of hungry guests.      

Living in another culture had offered a multitude of new opportunities. I enrolled in Japanese courses, our sons played with Okinawan children with hardly a language barrier, and we sampled tempura-coated vegetables managing chopsticks instead of forks.  

I would never trade our experiences, but we missed the United States. Silly things like TV commercials that were absent from the Armed Forces station, but showed up with taped programs like Star Trek and Dallas. The usually annoying advertising now gave us glimpses of ordinary life back home. A way of life you would be hard pressed to find anywhere else.  

Even a trip to the movie theater on the military base got me choked up with nostalgia. They always played our National Anthem to preface the featured film, against a backdrop of Americana scenes.  Dorothy was right. There really wasn’t any place quite like home--Kansas or otherwise.

Years later, I still remember the rush of emotion I felt when our plane nosed through wispy clouds and the stately Golden Gate Bridge came into view. After three years, we had finally come home to the land of the free and the home of the brave. I would never take my country for granted again. 

Dear Lord, thank you for showing me the great value of freedom. 

Letting Go: A Refresher Course

This post seems like deja vu. I've written about my "little" brother several times. Yesterday was his birthday. I called him to tell him I was thinking about him. His mental confusion seemed more pronounced. He admitted to using meth "so he could have some fun on his birthday." Calling him is difficult. It brings his dire circumstances into focus. Somehow it's easier when you don't have to deal with someone up close and personal.

My brother has been homeless for many years. He's addicted to alcohol and meth. Whether he had mental illness and self-treated with substances or has brain damage because of his drug use, doesn't really matter at this point. It's heart-wrenching and frustrating because there isn't anything we as a family can do to help him. He's reluctant to sign up for the now-mandatory health insurance. His pride gets in the way. Because he's so emotionally volatile, he has difficulty working, so he doesn't have any regular income.

After talking with him, I realized I need a refresher course in letting go. The "Letting Go" poem I received at one of the treatment centers my husband Randy went to is a good reminder.

Here are a few thoughts I had as I worked through letting go (once again) of my brother.

•  To "let go" does not mean to stop caring, it means I can't do it for someone else.

         I will always love my brother. I can't make him want to make healthy choices, though.

• To "let go" is not to cut myself off, it's the realization I can't control another. 

        I can reach out to my brother without any expectations or demands that he change. 

• To "let go" is not to fix, but to be supportive. 

       I was able to talk with him without offering advice.

• To "let go" is not to judge, but to allow another to be a human being.

      I didn't scold him for doing drugs.

• To "let go" is not to be in the middle arranging the outcomes, but to allow others to affect their own destinies.  

       I will never stop praying for my brother. I am powerless, but there is One who has all power. I pray  for him to find God in his life.                  

•  To "let go" is to fear less, and love more.

What have you learned about "letting go?" How is this making a difference in your relationships? 

Where Would We Be Without Friends?

When my mom had a mastectomy a couple of years ago, my dear friend Mary came to be with me.
Mary arrived at the hospital after Mom came out of surgery. Seeing a familiar face felt so reassuring. I threw my arms around my friend. I knew I could walk through this because I wasn't walking alone.  Mary drove nearly two hours to be with me in Seattle. After her work shift, she loaded a cooler with bottled water, juices, fruits, and other snacks for us to enjoy at the hotel. She even tucked in a Starbucks gift card. Her presence meant the world to me.

Our friendship spans more than 30 years. We've walked a lot of roads together...weathered the storms of our husbands' battles with alcoholism...  rejoiced with their sobriety...grieved over losses--parents, jobs, pets...celebrated weddings and births. We've shared life together and carried each other's burdens. I don't know where I'd be today without friends like Mary. I believe one of God's most gracious gifts is the gift of friends.

Through the years, as I've been on the receiving end of a friend's kindness, I've asked myself, what kind of friend am I? How can I be a better friend?

Lord, help me to be:

• The friend who thinks of others and anticipates their needs.

• The friend who is generous with her time.

• The friend who is honest and loves you enough to tell you the truth.   

• The friend who loves and accepts you no matter what.

 

I've been blessed to have more than one friend like Mary. I pray you also have known the love of such a caring friend. No one can do life alone. God designed us to need one another.


Two are better than one,
because they have a good return for their work.
If one falls down,
his friend can help him up.  Ecclesiastes 4: 9-10

I would love to hear how a friend has made all the difference in your life! 

  

Reach Out!

The half hour drive from Meridian, Idaho to Boise seemed like the longest of my life. Late one night, I packed our 10 and 7-year old sons in the car with me to escape the turmoil at home. My husband Randy had been drinking again. I suspected that he was an alcoholic. If I admitted that, then I'd be faced with reality--with the elephant that stalked our house. I felt at a total loss in knowing what to do.

A few nights before, I had accused Randy of being an alcoholic. It was as if I'd thrown gasoline on a simmering fire. He exploded in anger and shoved me against the kitchen wall. I wanted to run away and never come back. But two little boys slept upstairs. I'm sure they weren't really sleeping-- probably terrified of what was happening between their parents. Even after 30 + years, I still remember how desperate I felt.

I made the brave decision to take Chris and Jeremy with me to a women's shelter at the YWCA in Boise. A kind woman greeted us at the door when we arrived. She showed us to a neat room with three roll-away beds. She assured us we would be safe. I hugged and kissed my sons and tried my best to reassure them. I'm not sure I slept much that night, but I felt some relief. We stayed there for a few days. After having several counseling sessions and discussions with Randy, I decided to go home.

Even though it would be a long time before our home was a peaceful place, I had learned some important truths. I was no longer alone. I had been directed to Al-Anon, a support group for families and friends of alcoholics. There I would find tools and resources to help me deal with our problems. The journey toward my own healing and wholeness had begun. I will always be grateful for the YWCA in Boise and their caring staff who took us in that night. I also learned that no matter how bleak a situation appears, there is always hope for change.

How often I've thought about the need we as women have for a time-out when circumstances get crazy. Maybe you're not dealing with alcoholism and a spouse who is physically or verbally abusive. But you're tired, weary. You need a place to just be quiet and hear yourself think. A place where you feel loved and can be reassured that you are going to be all right.  

Remember, you are not alone. Help is only a phone call or internet click away. The YWCA was only my first step of support. I could write pages to list all the friends, counselors, and support groups who have been part of my recovery journey.

Today, I can hardly believe I'm the same woman who made that impossibly long drive to reach out for help. I can hardly believe Randy is the same man who desperately needed to check out of reality by drinking. Today we enjoy the gift and miracle of sobriety in our lives and peace that comes from knowing we are in the center of God's will.

When you are called out of crippling fear...you will be amazed at what God has planned for you. There is a world of breathtaking wonder wrapped up in trusting God with everything you have and everything you are. You will discover that you are free! -Sheila Walsh

Let me know if you need to reach out for help. I'd love to help you take a step on your journey to freedom!
  

A Tribute to my Friend: A Life Well-Lived

Doris was the first person I met in the community where I've lived for almost 18 years. She passed away in May at the age of 92.  I chided myself for not visiting more during her last months. Doris suffered from dementia and other ailments, so I'm not sure she completely recognized me when I did come to see her. I could have done more, I thought. I felt better after writing a sympathy note to one of her daughters. Knowing Doris, I was convinced she wouldn't want me to spend time or energy feeling guilty. Doris wasn't like that...she lived her life to the fullest and didn't keep a record of offenses.

I met Doris at the Thursday night Al-Anon meeting at the "The Barn," the local gathering place in our small town. I was a newcomer when I hesitantly entered the cavernous building and walked to the small back room, "The Hen House," where weekly meetings were held. I instantly felt like I belonged.

That's the way it is with Al-Anon. No matter where you go, there's a sense of connection and support. All those years ago when I was dealing with my husband Randy's alcoholism, it felt good to find a place where I was accepted and understood. Doris was so good at that. She had a quiet way about her as she shared her own story; her experience and hope. Somehow it was hard to believe that she'd ever felt as stressed or had been an emotional basket case like me. She assured me she had been exactly where I was... and that if I kept coming back, I'd also make my way through to a more positive place.

Every time Randy and I left the city and came over the mountains from Seattle, I made it a point to show up at the Al-Anon meeting. I can't remember a time when Doris wasn't there. Her faithful presence gave me courage and helped me decide to move to the Methow Valley with Randy several years later, in spite of his tenuous sobriety. I knew I would never be alone--no matter what happened.  

There are people who come into our lives and we are never the same. Doris was one of those special friends who gently and profoundly touched my life simply by living hers. When she became too frail to live on her own, her family moved her into a group home in another town several hours from here. Last fall, they brought her home to the valley she loved to live out her final days. I miss Doris--but I know she completed the work God had given her. The same work I feel privileged to pass on to others who are struggling in much the same way as I did.

If you're feeling in despair because someone you love has a drinking problem, why not try out an Al-Anon meeting? I can almost guarantee you will find a Doris there who will help change your life. 

What I can give is never as much as I get from the giving. ~ Al-Anon Family Group

Do Not Grow Weary and Lose Heart

Tonight when I was browsing on Facebook, I saw a post that I immediately shared on my timeline... words to a song by Laura Story called Blessings...What if your blessings come through raindrops? What if your healing comes through tears? What if a thousand sleepless nights are what it takes to know You're near? What if trials of this life are Your mercies in disguise?

My heart was touched...not only by this artist's insights into the questions we all struggle with...the whys of tragedies like Boston, West, Texas, Newtown, Aurora and countless other arenas closer to home, but no less painful. But I was also moved by the hundreds of comments that flooded in. The person who posted this message, Teresa Allissa Citro, asked people to share their prayer needs, where they were feeling weary and losing heart. I scrolled through the endless requests. I realized this wasn't just any social media post. On this ordinary Thursday night, I took time out from the kitchen clean-up. I laid the dish towel on the counter. I prayed for the woman whose son took his life in December, the single mom trying to make ends meet, though she's homeless and jobless. I prayed for others with chronic medical problems and financial concerns. I asked God to help those who feel despair, pain, and heartache. I prayed for hope.

I felt immersed in this extraordinary circle of prayer. I felt in awe for technology that allows us to come together across continents and countries as sisters in Christ. Even when we don't understand and we have more questions than answers, our hope is still in God...the One who is strength in our weakness, calm in the storm, comfort in our sorrow.

Laura Story's song speaks to this. I hope you'll take a few minutes to listen. You'll be blessed!

Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. 2 Corinthians 4:16   





  

 

Raise the White Flag!

I called my homeless brother yesterday. I only wanted to say that I love him. He couldn't hear that. He thought I was trying to intervene, judging him. He told me his life is miserable, the party's over--not that there ever was a party, I thought. I tried to interject hope into his hopeless comments.

You don't have to do this alone, I said. But he couldn't hear me in his deafness to allow anyone to help him. I'm going to recover on my own, he insisted. I don't need anyone to help me.

My heart aches for him. I've walked this road before with my husband, Randy, as he struggled to find freedom from his addiction to alcohol. And as I struggled to let go, to finally admit there wasn't anything I could do to fix or change him. 

It's funny how we think we have the power to help someone else choose life over an addiction or other destructive behaviors. Fear got in the way of my ability to surrender my husband. I believed I had the power to decide for him. I thought if I let go of Randy, he would die. That's a scary place to put ourselves in--and rather presumptuous. Do I really think I have that kind of power? Hm...I don't think so. I am thankful there is One who has all power--and that one isn't me!

Surrender!

There comes a time when we need to raise the white flag. We not only surrender our loved ones, but we also surrender ourselves to the Lord. We let go so God can work in our lives and theirs. We let go so we can be free from the anxiety that is destroying us. By surrendering, we choose a way that brings life to us--and possibly to our loved ones as well.

There are no pretenses or illusions about any noble efforts to save someone you love. This is rock-bottom where the rubber sole meets the road. You admit that what you've been doing isn't working. You don't have what it takes to motivate another person  to change their behavior. Only God can do that. Finally you give your impossible situation to God.

In Alcoholics Anonymous, they describe surrender in three steps:

1. I can't do it.
2. God can.
3. I will let Him.

There’s something powerful about recognizing we can’t do what needs to be done in our own strength. This might sound depressing. If we can’t do anything…who can? Ah…that’s the very place God wants us to be. He doesn’t need us, really. He has access to infinite resources. Sometimes the most we can do is simply get out of the way. We intentionally let go of our loved ones. This doesn't mean we abandon them or stop loving them. Instead, we lovingly entrust them to Jesus. He loves them more than we can imagine. What better place for them to be! The Lord knows every detail about them. He even knows every hair on their heads. He loves them with an everlasting love. Our love pales in comparison.

Author Jan Johnson says it well: 

Letting go is both too simple and too difficult. It looks like weakness instead of strength, like losing instead of gaining, and it is. As we relinquish control and admit weaknesses, we remember who we are and why we're here...This need to control is rooted in fear, but I need to do the thing that is rooted in faith--surrender.  

Once again, I find myself in a place of letting go. This time I know it's the very best for me and for the brother I love so dearly. 

Is there a situation in your life where you need to surrender?

 

A Place Called Blessing

I admit I'm a slow reader. Mostly because I wait until bedtime to crack open the latest book I'm reading. I usually don't get far before my head is nodding and my husband nudges me and asks, "Are you asleep?"

When I read A Place Called Blessing, by Dr. John Trent (co-author with Gary Smalley of The Blessing), I not only stayed awake, I kept turning pages. The story is compelling. A young boy, Josh, experiences a series of tragic events in his life. His parents (who haven't done a great job taking care of their children) are killed in a drunk-driving accident. Josh and his two older brothers are thrust into the foster care system. As long as they're together, even the least desirable of homes is bearable. The unthinkable happens, though, and Josh is separated from his brothers. They are adopted by a family who chooses not to adopt Josh. His life is marked by rejection and abandonment.

By age eighteen, Josh is an angry young man who only wants to be left alone. He's determined not to ever need or trust  anyone. He vows to make it through life on his own. That is, until he meets a co-worker, Mike, who genuinely seems to care about Josh. Mike's mom, Anna, has a room for rent, and Josh agrees to move in. Anna and Mike offer Josh the gift of "the blessing"--their unconditional love and support. And that is  life-changing.  

As I read Dr. Trent's book, I kept wondering when the hurting would stop. I felt sad by the unfairness of life.What struck me, though, was realizing how even one person who "blesses" another's life, can make a huge impact. Josh's relationship with Anna and Mike gave him the opportunity to choose a healthier direction for his life. 

A Place Called Blessing inspires readers to consider how they can make a difference for others. Giving the gift of "the blessing" is truly where hurting ends and love begins.    

A Holy Comfort for Our Grief

There are times when you know you've encountered a holy experience. Two weeks ago, on a Friday evening, friends gathered to remember our friend Melissa. She lost her agonizing battle with depression and took her life on a Saturday morning in early December.

We who knew her have reeled with shock and grief over her tragic loss at only 38-years old. A service was held in the new community where she and her family had relocated in October. Several close friends felt it was important to honor Melissa here, where she had made her home for at least a decade.

About two dozen of us sat in a large circle in the church fellowship hall. A slide show flashed pictures of Melissa and her family. We each told how we had come to know and love her. We cried and even laughed together, remembering the happy times. 

What could we have done differently? How could we have helped her through those dark times? Questions hung in the stillness. But each person spoke comfort where answers are hard to find. God is faithful, no matter what our circumstances, one close friend reminded. She talked about how Melissa's new church, a group of people who barely knew them, had rallied to support the grieving family. Another friend mentioned that Melissa's oldest son's teacher had also lost her mother to suicide when she was a child. God is certainly with those who are brokenhearted--even when we are at a loss to understand.

We held hands, sang a song together, and prayed for God to do what none of us can--to bring healing, peace, and comfort to all who grieve. Melissa's close friends had packed up all of her clothing and brought it to the church. Please take something, they urged. Her husband wanted it that way. When I walked into the hall and saw the tables of neatly folded and sorted clothing, I broke into tears. How could I take anything? I saw Melissa in so many of those garments. Then I sensed that it would be wrong not to take something. I picked up a raspberry colored top and instinctively held it close. Her friends had given me a precious gift.

A favorite place

Maybe you're walking through a season of grief, wondering how you'll make it through the next moment, not to mention a lifetime. I pray you'll know God's faithfulness and be comforted, just as we were on a cold, January night. 

 


   

Welcome to the 12 Pearls of Christmas!

Enjoy these Christmas "Pearls of Wisdom" from some of today's most beloved writer's (Tricia Goyer, Suzanne Woods Fisher, Shellie Rushing Tomlinson, Sibella Giorello and more)! Please follow the series through Christmas day as each contributor shares heartfelt stories of how God has touched a life during this most wonderful time of the year.

AND just for fun ... there's also a giveaway! Fill out this simple {form} and enter for a chance to win a beautiful pearl necklace and earring set ($450 value). Contest runs 12/14 - 12/25 and the winner will on 1/1. Contest is only open to US and Canadian residents. You may enter once per day.

If you are unfamiliar with Pearl Girls™, please visit www.pearlgirls.info and see what we're all about. In short, we exist to support the work of charities that help women and children in the US and around the globe. Consider purchasing a copy of Pearl Girls: Encountering Grit, Experiencing Grace or one of the Pearl Girls products (all GREAT gifts!) to help support Pearl Girls.

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The Panhandler's Breath

By Robin Dance

He slipped in sideways between the closing elevator doors, as if he were late to a meeting; he pressed the "5" without looking. Instead of suit and tie, though, baggy pants and faded navy hung on his tall, slim frame...and his stealth entry stiffened the hairs on the back of my neck.

I had noticed him a few seconds earlier, just after we had parted a sea of clamorous teens. He was smiling, grandfatherly, standing maybe 30 feet away where the electric shuttle picks up.

I had no idea he had been watching us, studying us, predator patiently awaiting his next prey.

The four of us were sealed in a four- by six-foot metal tomb. Tomb--that thought really scampered across my mind. I wondered if he had a knife in his pocket. I wanted to protect my son. Fight or flight pumped adrenaline but there was no where to run.

Extreme and ridiculous, these thoughts - and more - flashed through my mind. The Stranger began speaking.

"Yessir, I see you're a family man with your wife and your son here..." and he nodded in my and my son’s direction.

"...you see I'm homeless and all I've got..." and on queue, he reached into his left pocket and pulled out two old pennies blackened with age. Two cents to his name?! It was all too contrived, too practiced, and I didn't believe a word he was saying.

It was then I smelled it ~ the small space lent itself to that ~ and I doubted my doubt.

His breath.

It wasn't the scent of alcohol. His eyes weren't red, his voice didn't waver; his wizened face matched his graying hair.

His breath was morning's, zoo breath, the pet name I'd given to the scent inhaled when kissing my children awake when they were little.

He needed to brush his teeth. I wondered how long it had been since he brushed his teeth.

The elevator door opened and I handed him my leftover pizza as my son and I brushed past him. My husband handed him a bill and the Stranger thanked and God blessed him.

The elevator door closed behind us. Conflicted, I was relieved.

We got in the car and blurted first reaction--

"I didn't believe a word he said."

"That made me nervous."

"I wonder if he'll really eat the pizza."

In the quiet, we were left to our own thoughts, contemplating the right thing to do. At the end of the day, this is what I decided: It doesn't matter whether or not his story is true; for an old man to resort to begging, he has to be desperate. The money my husband gave him will never be missed. It was a reminder we've been entrusted with much and given much. Materially, yes, but more so spiritually. Loved, chosen, forgiven, redeemed, graced, lavished--every spiritual blessing. E v e r y.

There's a part of me that wishes I would have been brave enough to ask the man his story, made sure he knew he was loved...and bought him a tooth brush.

Later, it occurred to me he could have been an angel. Doesn’t that mean generosity, kindness and hospitality is always the right response? Then it's not about you or the stranger or the circumstance, it's about a simple, God-glorifying response.

Had we entertained an angel unaware? We'll never know.

But it wouldn't be the first time the Breath of Heaven smelled like a zoo.

***

In a decades-old, scandalous affair with her husband, Robin also confesses mad crushes on her three teens. As Southern as sugar-shocked tea, she’s a recovering people pleaser who advocates talking to strangers. A memoirist, Compassion International Blogger, and Maker-upper of words, Robin writes for her own site, PENSIEVE, and also for (in)courage by DaySpring (a subsidiary of Hallmark) and Simple Mom. She loves to get to know readers through their blog comments and on Twitter and Pinterest. www.pensieve.me

Welcome to the 12 Pearls of Christmas!

Enjoy these Christmas "Pearls of Wisdom" from some of today's most beloved writer's (Tricia Goyer, Suzanne Woods Fisher, Shellie Rushing Tomlinson, Sibella Giorello and more)! Please follow the series through Christmas day as each contributor shares heartfelt stories of how God has touched a life during this most wonderful time of the year.

AND just for fun ... there's also a giveaway! Fill out this simple {form} and enter for a chance to win a beautiful pearl necklace and earring set ($450 value). Contest runs 12/14 - 12/25 and the winner will on 1/1. Contest is only open to US and Canadian residents. You may enter once per day.

If you are unfamiliar with Pearl Girls™, please visit www.pearlgirls.info and see what we're all about. In short, we exist to support the work of charities that help women and children in the US and around the globe. Consider purchasing a copy of Pearl Girls: Encountering Grit, Experiencing Grace or one of the Pearl Girls products (all GREAT gifts!) to help support Pearl Girls.

***

Enjoy the Ride!

Susan May Warren

We sit poised on the top of a cliff, a near drop off before us, that falls to a rushing river. In the middle, a bridge of snow and ice hints at our destination. My husband guns the snowmobile engine. “Ready?”

Ready? For a face plant into a tree, maybe reconstructive surgery? To feel my stomach ripped from my body as we plummet down the mountain? Let’s do it!

We live on five acres of woods in northern Minnesota that butts up to a national forest. Hence, our backyard is about a hundred thousand acres. Aside from harboring deer, lynx, fox, cougar and bear, it also makes excellent snowmobile terrain. And not long ago, Mrs. Claus gave her Santa a snowmobile for two.

I love snowmobiling. Flying over the snow, catching air over drifts. I love to drive, to be at the helm of the beast as I weave around trees and over hill and dale, my husband sitting behind me. I also love riding behind my husband as he drives, feeling those powerful arms as he’s muscling the snowmobile into the wilds. We follow unknown trails, driven by a Magellan spirit, hoping that we have enough gas to get us back to civilization. I love hanging on, simply trusting him, knowing that wherever he’s taking me, he’s going first.

But there are times, when I see where he’s taking me, and I just have to bury my head in his back. Like straight down a cliff.

However, my heart cheers, despite the terror as we gun it down the hill, over the river, up the opposite side. And, if we hadn’t let ourselves go, we would have never discovered the beauty of a winter river, a hidden jewel buried deep in the forest. Nor the exhilaration of facing the challenge together.

Further on, we find an enchanted forest of towering white pine. Catch a view of Lake Superior, discover an old cabin in the woods.

It occurs to me that snowmobiling is much like my spiritual life. Occasionally, I drive, and it’s me setting our course, weaving through the trees, getting us hopelessly lost. But when God takes the “wheel” and I hang on, trusting Him for the speed and destination, I see the scenery. I trust him to keep me safe. I trust him to bring me home, where there is an eternal supply of hot chocolate.

As Christmas season becomes more hectic, what if I let God drive?  Maybe everything doesn’t have to be perfect, and maybe I don’t have to control every tradition, every holiday nuance. What if I just held on for the ride?

I’ll bet I’ll still get there, and I might even enjoy the scenery along the way.

How have you let go, and “enjoyed” the scenery of this hectic, exhilarating Christmas season?

Merry Christmas!

***

Susan May Warren is the RITA award-winning author of thirty novels with Tyndale, Barbour, Steeple Hill and Summerside Press.  A four-time Christy award finalist, a two-time RITA Finalist, she’s also a multi-winner of the Inspirational Readers Choice award, and the ACFW Carol Award.  A seasoned women’s events speaker, she’s a popular writing teacher at conferences around the nation and the author of the beginning writer’s workbook: From the Inside-Out: discover, create and publish the novel in you!.  She is also the founder of www.MyBookTherapy.com, a story-crafting service that helps authors discover their voice.

Welcome to the 12 Pearls of Christmas!

Enjoy these Christmas "Pearls of Wisdom" from some of today's most beloved writer's (Tricia Goyer, Suzanne Woods Fisher, Shellie Rushing Tomlinson, Sibella Giorello and more)! Please follow the series through Christmas day as each contributor shares heartfelt stories of how God has touched a life during this most wonderful time of the year.

AND just for fun ... there's also a giveaway! Fill out this simple {form} and enter for a chance to win a beautiful pearl necklace and earring set ($450 value). Contest runs 12/14 - 12/25 and the winner will on 1/1. Contest is only open to US and Canadian residents. You may enter once per day.

If you are unfamiliar with Pearl Girls™, please visit www.pearlgirls.info and see what we're all about. In short, we exist to support the work of charities that help women and children in the US and around the globe. Consider purchasing a copy of Pearl Girls: Encountering Grit, Experiencing Grace or one of the Pearl Girls products (all GREAT gifts!) to help support Pearl Girls.

***

Family Traditions: A Glimpse into Christmas Future

by Tricia Goyer

Have you ever thought about family traditions? As I helped my 1-year-old place ornaments on the Christmas tree this year I imagined her doing the same thing with her children—and maybe even grandchildren—one day. Traditions are beliefs and customs handed down through generations. By sharing meaningful moments with your kids you're sending yourself into the future. How amazing is that?

Sharing family traditions cause us to slow down from the busy, adult world for a while. We ignore the laundry to set out the nativity set with our kids. We set aside time in our schedules to drive around and look at Christmas lights.

Holiday traditions aren't only fun, they also help strength family bonds. Through traditions kids trust in the security of family unit. They think, “This is our family and this is what I do.” Of course, the most important thing to share isn't just what we do ... but why. Why do we put out a nativity? To remind us the real meaning of the season—Jesus coming to earth. What do the Christmas lights represent displayed on homes and on trees? They represent the Light of the World, Jesus.

Using traditions to bond our families and share our faith isn't new. I love these two Scriptures that talk about that very thing.

Exodus 12:25 says, “When you enter the land that the LORD will give you as he promised, observe this ceremony.”

Psalm 78:4 says, “We will not hide them from their children; we will tell the next generation the praiseworthy deeds of the LORD, his power, and the wonders he has done.”

What are you're traditions? Here are a few of ours:

Baking a Birthday cake for Jesus

Buying a new ornament every year for each child

Acting out the Christmas story (with props!)

Praying together before opening presents

What are your traditions? Write a list and appreciate them in a new way this year. Then ask, “If I could add one new tradition this holiday season, what would it be?” I'd love to hear what you choose! It also makes me smile to think of your children's grandchildren doing the same.

***

Tricia Goyer is a CBA best-selling author and the winner of two American Christian Fiction Writers’ Book of the Year Awards (Night Song and Dawn of a Thousand Nights). She co-wrote 3:16 Teen Edition with Max Lucado and contributed to the Women of Faith Study Bible. Also a noted marriage and parenting writer, she lives with her husband and children in Arkansas. www.triciagoyer.com

Welcome to the 12 Pearls of Christmas!

Enjoy these Christmas "Pearls of Wisdom" from some of today's most beloved writer's (Tricia Goyer, Suzanne Woods Fisher, Shellie Rushing Tomlinson, Sibella Giorello and more)! Please follow the series through Christmas day as each contributor shares heartfelt stories of how God has touched a life during this most wonderful time of the year.

AND just for fun ... there's also a giveaway! Fill out this simple {form} and enter for a chance to win a beautiful pearl necklace and earring set ($450 value). Contest runs 12/14 - 12/25 and the winner will on 1/1. Contest is only open to US and Canadian residents. You may enter once per day.

If you are unfamiliar with Pearl Girls™, please visit www.pearlgirls.info and see what we're all about. In short, we exist to support the work of charities that help women and children in the US and around the globe. Consider purchasing a copy of Pearl Girls: Encountering Grit, Experiencing Grace or one of the Pearl Girls products (all GREAT gifts!) to help support Pearl Girls.

***

Let The Baby Grow Up This Christmas

By Shellie Tomlinson

When I was a little girl, Christmas seemed to take forever to make its way back to our little house on the end of a dirt road called Bull Run in northeast Louisiana. We kids started counting down the days before the leaves ever began turning. Sure, the adults said it came once a year but I wasn't so sure. Once Santa Claus left our humble abode it seemed like light years before he found his way back to the Delta.

That was a child's perspective. I imagine it hasn't changed all that much for today's kids. On the other hand, I'm operating under a completely different time frame these days. It seems like it was just yesterday when I pulled the boxes down from the attic and began pulling out the nativity scene, the miniature lights, and the keepsake ornaments. And now, just that fast-- Christmas Day is right around the corner. Soon the tree will be striped naked and the piled up presents will all be distributed. After a few more day it'll be hard to remember who got what from whom, and once again, I'll start packing all the decorations away for another year.

I was thinking about how bare and cold the house always looks after the holidays when I realized that, sadly, this  scene would play itself out in many hearts as well. A lot of people will have had expectations that weren't filled and many of those same souls will be left with hurts that don't seem to heal. Unless this year is remarkably different from past seasons, my bet is, the New Year will bring magazines full of articles on combating depression and the talk shows will have experts on offering ways to fill the long days ahead and cure the winter blues.

I'm no expert, dear readers, but I'd like to offer you a suggestion that will go far beyond the creature comforts of a nice warm bath or a delicious bowl of hot soup. Your heart doesn't have to be bare and naked after the holidays. Do you want to know the real secret? It's simple, really. Don't pack up Christ with Christmas! As beautiful and special as the Christmas story is, it's only a part of heaven's miracle. The Christ child grew into a man and the man became a Savior.

This year, may we be determined to let the babe from Bethlehem live on in our hearts. If we'll allow Him to become the Messiah He was born to be, the joy of Christmas can be ours all year long.

***

Shellie Rushing Tomlinson is an author, speaker, and radio host from Louisiana. Her latest release Sue Ellen's Girl Ain't Fat, She Just Weighs Heavy was endorsed by Jeff Foxworthy as "laugh out loud funny!" You can find Shellie's weekly southern features, podcasts, video chats and more at http://www.allthingssouthern.com/ Make sure to get by the blog  and read about the Super Christmas Giveaway Shellie is hosting for her readers and secure your chance to win a Mort Kunstler print valued between $700 and $1400. www.allthingssouthern.com

Climb the Mountains!

 

It's a quiet Saturday morning, my favorite time to hang out in my jammies to read, pray, and simply listen for God's still, small voice--sometimes difficult to hear over the cacophony of life's daily demands. I've been thinking about a message I heard the other night from Pastor Moses from Uganda, who is visiting in our area for a few weeks...his first time in the United States--in fact his first time outside of his country!

A few friends from our community traveled to Uganda in 2005 and met Pastor Moses Zirimenya and his wife Annet. Upon returning home, these women shared Pastor Moses' vision of building a children's home and school for the many orphaned children in their care. As friends and family responded, Harvest Home Ministries was created. Pastor Moses' vision has become a reality. His faith and his commitment to serving God are inspiring.

He spoke about being determined to overcome obstacles, being serious in our prayers and willing to sacrifice our time to be in God's presence, so we can be in tune with His will for our lives. We have to wait on God for answers and never give up hope, he says. We have to learn to be "mountain climbers." There will always be challenges, but we must climb the mountains instead of giving up.

Pastor Moses should know. When they drilled for water on the school property and couldn't find any, he refused to give up. They drilled over and over, but no water. Moses prayed and trusted God, only to hear the same news. No water. Finally, when everyone urged him to give up, he requested that they drill one more time. "And this time, there was an explosion of water!" His grin lit up the entire room.

My faith is so small, so weak in comparison. When I face seemingly impossible situations in my life, I am quick to give up, to throw in the towel when the least bit of resistance comes. I knew I could never write that book, I say when the first rejection comes. It's too hard and I can't do it. I knew I couldn't finish it. No one's really interested anyway. And the self-fulfilling prophesy rambles on in my head.

Then this humble servant from Africa arrives to show us another way. His resources are limited beyond what we can imagine with our affluent lifestyle in the U.S. Yet, I can't help but think that Pastor Moses is truly the one who is rich. Perhaps he was sent here to minister to us!

I'm convinced I need to be more determined to pray for our country, the issues Randy and I struggle with, our family and friends. Yes, I believe prayer changes things...but do I really? That's a tough question. I want to believe. Lord, help my unbelief.

I pray that whatever you and I are facing, that we will be determined to climb the mountains.

The Sovereign Lord is my strength; he makes my feet like the feet of a deer, he enables me to go on the heights. Habakkuk 3:17

After the Storm

I grew up in Iowa where the threat of tornadoes in the spring and summer seemed

terrifying. Even though a twister never touched down in our small town while I lived there, the reality of a disaster wasn't simply paranoia. Most residents of Grinnell, Iowa knew that a tornado had nearly destroyed the town in the late 1800s. I remember running for the basement on more than one occasion and having nightmares that I couldn't get there in time, that my rubbery legs wouldn't be strong enough to carry me. Knowing that my mom kept watch on nights when tornado warnings had been issued brought some relief to my fears.

If that wasn't enough, we experienced the anxiety of a potential nuclear disaster with the Cuban Missile Crisis in the early 1960s. As a 4th grader, I didn't understand the gravity of the situation, but hearing talk about bomb shelters and practicing air raid drills where we crawled under our desks at school, gave me cause for alarm. I recall a tense three or four days with a verbal showdown between President Kennedy and Nikita Khrushchev. Still, I felt some reassurance knowing the grownups were handling the situation.

In the aftermath of the horrific disaster in Japan and the escalating crises in the Middle East, I have felt like that frightened 10-year old. Now I'm the grown-up..and frankly, there isn't any solace in looking to others to work everything out.

The other day, a comment on a blog about the potential of another economic collapse said, Everything will be all right. It always is. The sun will come up tomorrow. Whether or not there will be an economic collapse isn't the point. Saying that everything will be all right is misguided and naive. It isn't all right for thousands of people who have lost jobs and homes. It isn't all right for survivors of the devastation in Japan, even though the sun is still rising. Frightening, tragic events do happen.

At times like this, I know the antidote for fear is growing deeper in my faith. The crux of my Christian faith is belief that even if bad, perplexing events happen in life, events that literally shake my whole belief system, God is still faithful. I've found comfort, as always, in God's Word.

Romans 8 asks the important questions:

Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall trouble or hardship or persecution or famine or nakedness or danger or sword?

...No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.

In these days of uncertainty, I pray we will draw closer to the One who never changes--and find comfort and peace in His presence. And in that sense, everything is all right.