And Yet... Thoughts on Holiday Pain

I remember hearing a missionary give a talk years ago. Addressing the matter of God’s provision, this seasoned servant quipped that, in his experience, God is never late but He’s rarely early.

Also embedded in my memory is this observation from a minister whose church I attended when I was very young in my faith. This gentleman, whose name was David, commented that he often noticed the Almighty “singling him out,” as it were – in a good way. He would come across a passage of Scripture or hear something from the pulpit that seemed to be a “Dear David” message. A piece of wisdom or advice that zeroed right in on whatever he was struggling with or working on in his life.

I’m finding the insights of these two leaders quite relevant during what has turned out to be a very bittersweet holiday season. Don’t misunderstand – I’ve lived through downright depressing, even miserable Christmases. Other people’s choices and acts of God find their harsh way into our lives, despite what our culture tells us to expect during a given time frame:

“Christmas means lights and laughter! Valentine’s Day means hearts and happiness! There’s something really wrong with you if you’re not loving life at this moment!”

As though death, demons, and destruction are any respecters of calendars.

Christmas 2025 finds me straddling the line between joy and pain as I grieve with a dear friend who is presently suffering an unimaginable loss. Others around me are coping with similar sorrows. And, folks, have you looked at the news lately? It’s enough to send the jolliest elf right into a full-blown tailspin.

And yet…

“My heart is overflowing with a good theme; I recite my composition concerning the King; My tongue is the pen of a ready writer.” – Psalm 45:1

“Be still, and know that I am God; I will be exalted among the nations, I will be exalted in the earth!” – Psalm 46:10

“He who did not spare His own Son, but delivered Him up for us all, how shall He not with Him also freely give us all things?” – Romans 8:32

Why these verses?

They’re my “Dear Thea” messages from a Mind and Heart which know exactly what my mind and heart are wrestling with. All three of these Scripture gems showed up in my own personal world MORE THAN ONCE in the past week.

Psalm 45:1:

Write, Thea. I’ve given you a voice and the tools to get it out there. Use them when and how I tell you to.

Psalm 46:10:

Thea, I’ve GOT you and everyone and everything around you, despite how things may look. Trust me, like the song says, and rest in my plan, even when it seems ridiculous to do so.

Romans 8:32:

Thea, if I gave up that which was most precious to me for your benefit, I’m certainly not going to skimp on anything else.

I want and need to be held this Christmas, because I’m trying to hold up my fellow man. I know I’m no Atlas, and I’m not trying to be. But how can a person not offer a hand when one of her companions is in danger of sinking?

And yet…

The Lord makes certain promises about how much reign He will let grief have in our lives.

I’m holding Him to those promises.

So, I’m doing each next right thing I know to do. Since tomorrow is the arbitrary deadline we silly humans have set for ourselves to celebrate the immortal becoming mortal for a few decades, I’m going to take care of some ritual essentials. I’ll finish wrapping my packages. I’ll whip up some holiday recipes. Etc., etc., etc.

But I REFUSE to let said rituals destroy my communion with the One we’re supposed to be celebrating. And I REFUSE to endlessly seek some heartwarming feeling that always eludes and always promises more than it can deliver.

Because the Delivery has been made. It arrived 2,000 years ago in a stable. And it mattered – and matters – more than any Hallmark memory or Amazon drop-off ever could.

Our Savior foresaw the ambivalence we would feel at the holidays and all throughout our lives. He knew expectations would go unmet and joy would be tempered with pain. He felt that tension in His own heart while preparing to give His life for our traitorous race.

And yet…

If the trials I’m facing – and those I’m walking through with people I love – are the chisels that render me more like the Savior I strive to emulate, then I will try to yield to the pain without numbing myself. I’ll keep looking for “Dear Thea” love notes wherever He chooses to drop them. And I’ll keep reminding myself that His mercies will always be right on time.

God bless us, everyone.

 

Holiday Bows, Holiday Knots

Anyone who’s ever wrapped a present knows how easy it is to mess up a bow. The ribbon frays. There isn’t enough of it to make a decent bow. The whole thing winds up becoming one big, tangled up knot.

Bows, though, are often worth the trouble, knotty possibilities notwithstanding.

Bows are pretty. They’re festive. They’re neat and tidy (when they cooperate). They’re reusable, for heaven’s sake!

Perhaps these are some of the reasons a couple of my mischief-making students vied for a bow during a Christmas season years ago. I recounted the story in a blog post at the time, thinking how remarkable it was that kids whose sole mission in life seemed to be portraying themselves as the toughest, least governable ruffians in the bunch – that these characters were getting their collective panties all in a bunch over a simple holiday decoration.

These high schoolers already knew they were on Santa’s naughty list. No two ways about it. Still, they
longed for some form of recognition that they weren’t irredeemable. That someone saw through their façade and recognized the frightened, insecure youngsters they really were.

It brings to mind a well-timed sentence my older son once uttered to our neighbor’s dog. She was a little thing with, I suppose, a bit of a Napoleon complex. She at times would try to come off as intimidating, which was totally laughable.

My son saw this bravado for what it was and responded to her antics one day by remarking, “Oh, you’re so not scary!”

I can hear my readers wondering if I’m not assigning too much meaning to an adolescent competition over a simple Christmas bow. My answer is an unequivocal no. Again hearkening back to parts one and two of my “bow” blog articles, I discovered no matter how rough and tough some of my students came off, almost all of them had a soft spot for a sticker, a carefully crafted piece of motherly advice, or the tiniest morsel of praise.

Who’d have thought such guarded hearts were so easily penetrable?

Well, there are bows and there are knots.

My life has been somewhat knotty lately. In trying to support others, I’ve unwittingly been tying myself up into knots. My prayer partner, Tina, pointed this out to me yesterday as I was agonizing about some plans that were far from definite. My end of the conversation went something like this:

“If I do x, what about y? Will z become an issue? I’m pretty worried about a, b, and c also. Do you think d, e, or f might present a problem?”

Tina cut through all this nonsense gently but firmly, pointing out that I was fretting over plans and possibilities that might not ever transpire. And, knowing me as she does, she recognized that such gyrations on my part could easily lead me into a state of resentment, a foible I constantly try to work on.

Too often I’ve contorted myself in efforts to please someone else – now, pay attention here, because this is the crux of the matter – on matters about which I’ve never even asked the other person how they feel! This has happened with celebrations I’ve put together for other people’s milestones, for example. I once concocted a party for someone I later found out detested being in the limelight. Needless to say, my hopes were disappointed, as were those of the guest of honor.

This past week, I was biting my nails over a holiday gathering. It’s something my family and I have done for years for a dear friend. We keep it relatively low key – except when I start overthinking it.

This year my altruistic but overzealous desire to include others took over. I decided that this family tradition (the person with whom we celebrate this annual tradition is not technically family, but she might as well be) needed to be expanded to include another friend who expressed interest in the festivities. In trying to fit a million square pegs into round holes to make this thing come off, I caused myself needless agita.

All this hoop jumping went on only in my mind. For various reasons, I never even consulted any of the other parties. In the end, I realized it simply wasn’t going to work and bagged the whole idea. We will do it eventually, Lord willing, but there was no way to make it work last week. I had to scrap the idea (and all my mental machinations), let go, and let God be God.

What a concept.

Here’s the kicker: it turned out the person I was trying to add into the mix became ill and wouldn’t have been able to participate anyway.

Talk about your wasted worries.

Sometimes these types of gyrations inconvenience others. I jump through all kinds of hoops trying to put everyone’s schedules together, and it becomes a knotty mess. Other times, like the scenario I just mentioned, all my stress is internal and no one else even knows about it. I may have decided it’s in someone else’s best interest to be part of a certain “fill in the blank” activity. Or, in my fevered imagination, someone may be waiting with bated breath to hear from me via text, call, or what have you. While this dear one may well welcome hearing from me, I misstep when I assume the role of be-all and end-all in another person’s life.

As my sister says, I overestimate my own nuisance value!

There’s one other area I want to touch on before wrapping this up so I can go do some wrapping.

I found myself fighting temptation – yet again – the other day. December is a rough month for any food worshipper, a label I guiltily admit to. I know how God feels about gluttony, so this is an ongoing battle for me. Anyway, after stringing together a bevy of days involving poor food choices, I was feeling “in knots” about it, powerless to detangle the rat’s nest my eating life had become. While Christmas shopping, I picked up a certain something that was affordable, yummy and promised to drive my weight higher and my walk further from the Lord.

At the moment of truth, here’s what I heard coming out of my mouth:

“Gotta start being obedient sometime.”

Just like that, I put the forbidden fruit back on its shelf and went on my merry way.

And my way did feel merrier. The best part is, my youngest grandchild was by my side. Little does this little one know that Mom Mom fights spiritual battles which often manifest as physical battles over food and a few other needful things (sleep, R&R) that don’t serve me well when I abuse them.

Maybe – just maybe – my one good choice in a sea of lousy ones can put me closer to the woman God intends for me to be, thereby serving as a better example for the next generation(s).

God bless us, everyone.

 

Rust, AKA, Destructive Distractions

“My heart is overflowing with a good theme; I recite my composition concerning the King; my tongue is the pen of a ready writer.” – Psalm 45:1

The Goal

Psalm 45:1 is certainly a lofty goal, and one I aspire to – in theory.

Friends and supporters have asked if I’m working on a new book. It’s been a year and a half since Belabored hit the “shelves” of Amazon, and my cheering squad (without whose encouragement and prayers this novel would still be languishing on my computer) is understandably curious about my next project.

My answer is always the same.

Not yet.

Or, more accurately, I haven’t felt led to take on another major writing commitment at this moment.

To put it another way, I’m rusty in the writing department.

I did, however, recently add an item to my authorial resumé: my piece, “Jesus Christ, the Same Yesterday, Today, and December 26^th,” appears in ’Tis the Season, a compilation of Christmas essays benefiting Samaritan’s Purse. And I have taken several steps to expand my social media output and presence. Discourse, after all, isn’t found only between the covers of books or relegated to print media in these times of virtual productivity.

It never was, actually. That’s why journals and speeches and correspondence hold such great interest for biographers and readers.

So, in what way, exactly, am I deeming myself rusty?

The Problem

Well, folks, it’s the age-old problem of applying the seat of the pants to the seat of the chair. To put it bluntly, I’m exceptionally good at distracting myself right out of the writing game.

Oh, I haven’t just been stringing dandelions into necklaces (with no disrespect intended to physical crafters, whose dexterity and fine motor skills far outweigh mine). For sure I’m accomplishing some valuable things. It’s just that, to paraphrase someone wise, the good can often be enemy of the best.

I will credit myself with one thing, though. I've been ingesting huge amounts of other people’s writing, which is often touted by those who know as a vital step to improving one’s own. That being said, after studying others’ styles, at some point one needs to pick up one’s pen, sit down at one’s keyboard, or at the very least, dictate into one of the myriad text receptacles available these days.

But, truth be told, it’s a bit painful to reengage with the writing craft once one has interrupted the habit. That’s actually been my lifelong problem – staying engaged in written pursuits. I scribble in spurts, journaling or blogging with ferocity when I’m going through some sort of life challenge, then going dormant for months on end. That’s why it was so hard for me to complete a novel.

In contrast, one of my authorial heroes, Louisa May Alcott, used to fall into what she called a vortex when creating. She would hole up for hours/days on end, frantically inking (and I mean inking by hand) pages and pages until her manuscripts met with her satisfaction. Then, off to the publisher and back to the outside world she would trot, until the next bolt of inspiration chained her to her desk again. Between bestselling novels, though, Alcott constantly journaled and wrote short stories, effectively honing her skills for the next blockbuster.

The Eye Opener

Despite human frailties, God has ways of forcing an issue.

Last night He saw fit to visit me with a terrible dream. The particulars aren’t important; the message is. In this nightmare, I was UTTERLY DISTRACTED. I had one paramount goal, but it kept getting sidelined by details that were irrelevant. In addition, I was trying to meet some other people’s needs – demands that cropped up along the way to accomplishing my agenda – but in my futile attempts to assist others, neither their needs nor mine were getting met.

Don’t misunderstand me. Some of the urgencies trumpeting in my ear were PRETTY DARN BIG. A dying woman. The safe transport of children. Treating other people’s property respectfully. But – and here is a major BUT – in trying to tend to everyone’s needs (all at once, I might add), I was tripping all over myself and MAKING EVERYTHING WORSE.

Here’s the really important part (well, the whole dream seemed important, but this piece is especially noteworthy). Several well-meaning friends stepped in, suggesting solutions that held potential to yield smidgens of success. Even as those kind souls were offering time and energy to steady the course of my floundering vessel, the captain of that sinking ship took matters back into her own bumbling, distracted hands and capsized the boat once and for all.

As I reread that last sentence, I identify a huge part of the problem. I am not the captain. There is only one Captain, and His name is Immanuel.

I take orders from Him and would do well to remember that.

Even as I type this article, which has been patiently hanging around on my hard drive for a week, another diversion sirens me. Friends, I’ve been awake since the wee hours of the morning after having that disturbing dream, knowing FOR SURE God is giving me yet another opportunity to Sit. Down. And. Write.

Wouldn’t you know it? Life throws yet another monkey wrench into my plans and offers to distract me – at 5:45 AM!

An important disruption, mind you. Important enough that I could persuade myself that this latest urgency warrants interrupting my work.

But that would mean losing momentum.

Momentum which badly needs to be maintained after so many fits and starts.

The Need for Discernment

As I’m arguing with myself about pausing versus proceeding, the Lord uses Denzel Washington, of all people, to set me straight. I recall a movie he starred in years ago in which his character, Eli, had received a vital commission. Along the way, numerous troubling distractions threatened the fulfillment of that crucial task. At those fork-in-the-road moments, he audibly reminded himself, “Stay on the path. It’s not your concern.”

A case could be made that Eli should have taken a break from his calling to address some life and death situations affecting others. Perhaps that is so. But consider the following.

Corrie ten Boom told a story of being present while a fellow inmate in the concentration camp was suffering cruelly at the hands of an SS guard. Knowing she was powerless to help, Corrie allowed herself to look away and focus on the beauty of a skylark instead of the violence around her.

Was it cowardice that kept Corrie from trying to intervene? Or was it pragmatism? Had she said or done anything, she would almost certainly have been tortured and possibly killed along with the prisoner she was vainly trying to help.

Then who would have told her story to millions, giving a firsthand report of the carnage inflicted by power-driven Nazis, and offering the world hope even in the deepest of pits?

Corrie knew the horror she was witnessing that day – and it WAS HORRIBLE – was not her (immediate) concern.

The Greatest Man of Business

If that sounds callous, let us remember two things. First of all, just because something isn’t on our to do list today doesn’t mean God won’t put it there tomorrow. In the case of the beaten prisoner, the Lord guided Corrie to focus her thoughts on the glorious skylark He had provided so she could endure the unendurable in that moment. Later, after she was released, she would write about witnessing this monstrous act while performing the work God kept her alive to do.

Which brings me to my second point.

That which is not our concern is God’s concern.

Jacob Marley uttered these famous words in Dickens’ A Christmas Carol: “Mankind was my business!”

But there’s a caveat, isn’t there?

Not ALL mankind is MY business.

We know that because Jesus modeled it. He healed some, but not all. He knew when it was time to get alone with the Father and recharge His batteries. He avoided distraction so it wouldn’t destroy His overarching mission.

Getting Back to Rust

What does all this have to do with rust?

Been thinking about Matthew 6:19-20:

“Do not lay up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy and where thieves break in and steal; but lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust destroys and where thieves do not break in and steal.”

During this season of overwhelming busyness, I’m realizing that distraction is often a precursor to destruction. For example, being overly distracted this past week with holiday doings wreaked havoc with my eating habits. Attempting too many projects in too little time resulted in too many bad food choices. My overeating and overconsumption of Christmas goodies made me annoyed with myself, as well as sleepy and less able to produce good results with my tasks.

What are the moths and rust in each of our lives that threaten to destroy (or at least undermine) our relationship with God? What thieves are stealing our time with Him?

They say that realization is key to change, that recognizing the problem is half the battle. I’m challenging myself and others to search for the underlying causes why we drift from the Lord during a season which is supposed to be devoted to Him, and adjust accordingly.

The Remedy for Rust

It’s a simple one. A compound sold in any hardware store.

Naval jelly.

When applied correctly, this miracle mix eats away that which is eating away our valuables.

I find it fascinating that this stuff is called naval jelly. There must be a reason why, but I’m going to resist the urge to look it up because that would be, um, a distraction.

What’s interesting about the name of this wondrous substance is that it points to a navigator. Navies rely on navigators, and navigators rely on true north. Any old salt worth his salt (couldn’t resist) knows he must consciously seek true north. He can’t rely fully on his compass, because forces beyond his control
will throw that thing – and his whole vessel – off course.

It's been said that Jesus is our true north. But, like the old seaman, we must realize the limitations of our own devices and seek that which is true.

Make that, the One who is true.

God bless us, everyone!