I am inundated with feelings, swamped with the overflow of tears and laughter, drowning in suffering and anger and laughter and joy. It is Christmas and suddenly everything seems to be more intense, more of itself now than in real time. The joy is more joyful, the sadness a heavier weight to bear, the anger and frustration seem unending with no solution or resolution, the expectations of hope, love, joy and peace are fragile and subject to breaking in shipping. Yesterday was a day full of all this and more.
Mama is leaving in one week to return to Georgia for two months (maybe). She wants to see her doctors, live in her house a little while, see friends, go to church, get her taxes done, be home for a little while. She is full of anticipation and fear. So am I. I fear loneliness for her and for me. I worry about her aloneness far away from us. I celebrate her network of friends and church and the feeling of being home. At the same time she will feel daddy’s absence more keenly in the home they built and the farm they loved. What is a daughter to do but let go and pray?
Friends’ feelings are in turmoil, raging PMS responses in menopausal maidens, children over the moon with the holiday hilarity, undone gift selection, parents in nursing homes, family members and friends who will not live to see another Christmas, hurtful convoluted communication, confusion and consternation on every hand. What can a friend do but pray?
Children and grandchildren coming with joy and laughter, Christmas Present. Hopes of riding Junie B. Jones and the tractor loom as large in their holiday season as Santa Claus. Three year old Mason walks around holding his nativity ornament singing songs of the season. Matthew is holding on, hoping his mother will not have to call Santa Claus about his behavior, playing his part in the Christmas pageant, a beaming shepherd. Adam and Michelle, Megan and Mike, Alison and David, Matthew, Mason, Meade and Aidan will gather here at the farm for Christmas. We will have a candlelight service with family and neighbors in the tobacco barn chapel Christmas Eve and remember why we are gathered. What can a mother and grandmother do but pray?
Ghosts of Christmas Past arrive as well. "Wouldn’t daddy be proud of his great-grandchildren?" "Mommy Anne would have loved to be in the center of all this celebration." Remember...the fall Grady and Gayle died and we drove through the night singing Muppet Christmas songs and weeping... the Christmas Daddy O and Mommy Anne wheeled out a rack full of sweat suits for everyone in bright colors...the first Christmas on Sabbath Rest Farm...our first Christmas when you gave me something black and brown and medium sized...remember? What can a woman do but pray?
My prayers are not for peace and love and hope and joy. I have those in abundance. Nor are my prayers for the easing of pain or the resolution of anger and confusion. I have those also. I will not be praying for the way to be made plain nor the lion to lie down with the lamb. I will be praying prayers of gratitude for all of Christmas, the lions of loneliness and fear, the lambs of love present and love lost, the horses of hope and despair, praying for the fullness of Christmas to come to my heart. I will pray that my heart might be open, like the birth barn, so that Jesus might come once again to live in my soul manger. I will pray that Christmas will come and we will all, for a little while or for the rest of our lives, remember and give thanks for all that is, all that has been and all that is yet to come.
"And ye, beneath life’s crushing load, whose forms are bending low, Who toil along the climbing way with painful steps and slow, Look now! For glad and golden hours come swiftly on the wing: O rest beside the weary road and hear the angels sing." Edmund Sears
Tuesday, December 18, 2007
Monday, December 17, 2007
they came bearing gifts...
They came, dressed to the hilt in party dresses and high heels, coats and ties, make-up and jewelry, Santa hats and faux tuxedos, full to overflowing with themselves and the season. It was the second annual formal sit down dinner for the youth group at our house last night. Michael, Pam and Dianne planned this for the first time last year. It was such fun for us all that we decided to make it a tradition. Michael is the chief cook and begins planning the menu early. Last year it was Lemon Chicken a la Michael. This year it was pork tenderloin with loaded mashed potatoes and home canned green beans. Pam provided chocolate fondue for dessert. One of the adults at church, Carol Duin, volunteered to come, wash dishes and serve as way to meet the youth A trip to Sam’s to buy food, a week spent cleaning and decorating, setting up the tables to seat twenty, putting out my great-grandmother’s and great aunt’s and Mommy Ann’s silver on the red tablecloth with white china and red and green glasses, lighting every candle in the house... getting ready for a party with cherished young adults in the making.
I stood and watched them as they ate... good table manners, conversation, behavior that would have made every parent proud. Many of these children I taught in Sunday School for several years. I remember them then and see them now... it takes my breath away. In the blink of an eye, they have been transformed and are now beginning to fly... and drive... on their own. Two of the group came back from the land of college as first semester freshmen. They had stories to tell of cafeteria food and eight o’clock classes. Our single senior, as is the custom, was allowed to pick her seat of choice for the dinner, She chose the gilded chair at the head of the big table. Laughter, mock fights over white elephant gifts (I think they were pretending to fight over the gum ball machine), chatter and giggles, sharing of home made cookies, comparison of high heel styles... nothing of substance and yet everything of importance was present at the party last night.
Adults who love these almost grown up children served them dinner, a visible sign of our respect for them and the world they inhabit. They are our future and we honor the adults they are becoming. We gave them our best last night. A pretty, safe, comfortable, warm, hospitable environment where they could relax and practice community. Snow swirled outside with winter winds blowing. Inside, a warm fire burned and Christmas music played. All were welcome and all were made welcome in different ways. The group picture taken in front of the fireplace shows bright faces full of promise and joy. For a little while, they do not have to be anyone but themselves and it gives us all such joy to be included in the fun.
They have no idea what gifts they give those of us who love them. Some came bearing hostess gifts... pecan pie in a jar, a cartoon book about farm life... but all of them brought the gift of their presence in our lives. I cannot imagine a life without the energy and enthusiasm, fractiousness and friendship, laughter and tears shared with these special children.
They give me the gift of remembrance. I remember who I was at that age... remember hot dog cook outs at the Zipperer farm and Sunday night youth group... remember and give thanks for adults who loved me into adulthood in the church. I remember other grown-ups in other churches who loved my children on mission trips, at parties, at Sunday night gatherings and at camp. I am grateful for the important gifts of friendship given to my children at church.
They bring me the gift of the present, a right here and now enjoyment that leaves behind the worries of tomorrow. Their ability to live in an immediate state of being, still children under the glitter and glitz, reminds me to enjoy the moment because that is all I am promised. For the moment last night, we were present to the present of the present... living in the pleasures of the moment with gratitude.
They give me the gift of the future. When I watch them I see adults of great promise emerging from the cocoons of childhood. Dancers, peacemakers, writers, engineers, musicians, actors, doctors, teachers... a world of talent and giftedness is contained in this small community of soon to be grown ups. The world needs their compassion and love and humor and laughter. So do I. I thank them for all the hostess presents they brought last night. They were gold, frankincense and myrrh for my soul, wise women and men in the making bearing gifts for all the adults who love them.
P.S. Lee, who took the gum ball machine, after several exchanges, endured much verbal abuse (I hate you, I can’t believe you did that, etc.) gave the machine to Peyton as he left. He had gotten it and saved it specially for her since she loved it so.
P.P.S. Special thanks to Carol Duin who donned a waiters apron to come serve and wash dishes
P.P.P.S. Extra special thanks to parents who share their children with us at church.
Peggy Hester
I stood and watched them as they ate... good table manners, conversation, behavior that would have made every parent proud. Many of these children I taught in Sunday School for several years. I remember them then and see them now... it takes my breath away. In the blink of an eye, they have been transformed and are now beginning to fly... and drive... on their own. Two of the group came back from the land of college as first semester freshmen. They had stories to tell of cafeteria food and eight o’clock classes. Our single senior, as is the custom, was allowed to pick her seat of choice for the dinner, She chose the gilded chair at the head of the big table. Laughter, mock fights over white elephant gifts (I think they were pretending to fight over the gum ball machine), chatter and giggles, sharing of home made cookies, comparison of high heel styles... nothing of substance and yet everything of importance was present at the party last night.
Adults who love these almost grown up children served them dinner, a visible sign of our respect for them and the world they inhabit. They are our future and we honor the adults they are becoming. We gave them our best last night. A pretty, safe, comfortable, warm, hospitable environment where they could relax and practice community. Snow swirled outside with winter winds blowing. Inside, a warm fire burned and Christmas music played. All were welcome and all were made welcome in different ways. The group picture taken in front of the fireplace shows bright faces full of promise and joy. For a little while, they do not have to be anyone but themselves and it gives us all such joy to be included in the fun.
They have no idea what gifts they give those of us who love them. Some came bearing hostess gifts... pecan pie in a jar, a cartoon book about farm life... but all of them brought the gift of their presence in our lives. I cannot imagine a life without the energy and enthusiasm, fractiousness and friendship, laughter and tears shared with these special children.
They give me the gift of remembrance. I remember who I was at that age... remember hot dog cook outs at the Zipperer farm and Sunday night youth group... remember and give thanks for adults who loved me into adulthood in the church. I remember other grown-ups in other churches who loved my children on mission trips, at parties, at Sunday night gatherings and at camp. I am grateful for the important gifts of friendship given to my children at church.
They bring me the gift of the present, a right here and now enjoyment that leaves behind the worries of tomorrow. Their ability to live in an immediate state of being, still children under the glitter and glitz, reminds me to enjoy the moment because that is all I am promised. For the moment last night, we were present to the present of the present... living in the pleasures of the moment with gratitude.
They give me the gift of the future. When I watch them I see adults of great promise emerging from the cocoons of childhood. Dancers, peacemakers, writers, engineers, musicians, actors, doctors, teachers... a world of talent and giftedness is contained in this small community of soon to be grown ups. The world needs their compassion and love and humor and laughter. So do I. I thank them for all the hostess presents they brought last night. They were gold, frankincense and myrrh for my soul, wise women and men in the making bearing gifts for all the adults who love them.
P.S. Lee, who took the gum ball machine, after several exchanges, endured much verbal abuse (I hate you, I can’t believe you did that, etc.) gave the machine to Peyton as he left. He had gotten it and saved it specially for her since she loved it so.
P.P.S. Special thanks to Carol Duin who donned a waiters apron to come serve and wash dishes
P.P.P.S. Extra special thanks to parents who share their children with us at church.
Peggy Hester
Sunday, December 16, 2007
Joyful, Joyful, I Adore Thee
It is the Joy Sunday of Advent. I am making a joyful list. Grandchildren singing "pum pa pum pum" and "fa la la la" over the phone, children coming home for Christmas as healthy, happy adults married to those they love, clear crisp cold air, rain in the night, Junie B. Jones who is the leader of the cow herd, Michael’s good health, my mom’s presence with us this Christmas, the sight of the sunrise over the mountain top, pine trees dancing to the accompaniment of the tune played by winter wind, good friends who surround us at every turn, a farm where we can work and play and savor the natural world that surrounds us, deer grazing by the high barn standing still and watching us watch them... I am overflowing with joy.
Joy for me is not happiness. Happiness is fun but temporary. I can be happy with a new dress or a clean house or a good book. Joy for me is happiness and gratitude combined, a permanent way of living life. Joy ripples through my soul like a song that never ends. I have much that gives me joy and much joy to share.
I remember how I felt when I walked the aisle to join our church when I was twelve. I was filled with joy, overflowing with joy, bouncing down the aisle to begin my life of faith. I am so grateful that pilgrimage began in joy, a joy that has sustained me when the way has grown dark and narrow at times. That joy kept me coming back to church, the place where God’s people gather. Even when we weren’t behaving like Christians in church, the memory of the first joy held me fast and would not let me leave the church. There is joy to be found at church.
I remember the joy I felt when each of our children were born. The overwhelming soul full busting out all over joy of seeing and holding new life that was created by Michel and me. It still brings tears to my eyes when I revisit those days in my memory. There were many days of joy as a mother along with many days of trials and tribulation, but the joy was always the dominant melody line. Now when I hear our daughters’ laughter with their children, see the delight they experience with them, my joy is expanded and increased. Mary felt the same wonder and joy I did but her joy must have been tempered by the mystery of the incarnation. Not everyone gets angels singing for a birth announcement, and shepherds and wise men dropping by for adoration and gift giving. The Bible says Mary kept all that happened in her heart and pondered them.
Pondering joy... pondering mystery... pondering God’s presence among us... cause for joy and celebration. I am ringing the bells of joy in my soul today, anticipating the birth of Love among us, a baby boy named Jesus. Jesus, like all boys, will grow and play and get into trouble and make his parents wonder if he will ever amount to anything. He grows in to his calling and becomes the Face of God living as we live, a brotherly bridge to the One who births us all.
Joyful, joyful, we adore thee, God of glory, Lord of Love... Giver of immortal gladness, fill us with the light of day...Joyful music leads us Sunward in the triumph song of life. Today I choose to live joyfully, adoring the One who made me, who fills my soul with light and laughter, who has lead me all my life and leads me still with joyful heart music as I mosey on home to the Source of all Joy. Thanks be to God. Peggy Hester
Joy for me is not happiness. Happiness is fun but temporary. I can be happy with a new dress or a clean house or a good book. Joy for me is happiness and gratitude combined, a permanent way of living life. Joy ripples through my soul like a song that never ends. I have much that gives me joy and much joy to share.
I remember how I felt when I walked the aisle to join our church when I was twelve. I was filled with joy, overflowing with joy, bouncing down the aisle to begin my life of faith. I am so grateful that pilgrimage began in joy, a joy that has sustained me when the way has grown dark and narrow at times. That joy kept me coming back to church, the place where God’s people gather. Even when we weren’t behaving like Christians in church, the memory of the first joy held me fast and would not let me leave the church. There is joy to be found at church.
I remember the joy I felt when each of our children were born. The overwhelming soul full busting out all over joy of seeing and holding new life that was created by Michel and me. It still brings tears to my eyes when I revisit those days in my memory. There were many days of joy as a mother along with many days of trials and tribulation, but the joy was always the dominant melody line. Now when I hear our daughters’ laughter with their children, see the delight they experience with them, my joy is expanded and increased. Mary felt the same wonder and joy I did but her joy must have been tempered by the mystery of the incarnation. Not everyone gets angels singing for a birth announcement, and shepherds and wise men dropping by for adoration and gift giving. The Bible says Mary kept all that happened in her heart and pondered them.
Pondering joy... pondering mystery... pondering God’s presence among us... cause for joy and celebration. I am ringing the bells of joy in my soul today, anticipating the birth of Love among us, a baby boy named Jesus. Jesus, like all boys, will grow and play and get into trouble and make his parents wonder if he will ever amount to anything. He grows in to his calling and becomes the Face of God living as we live, a brotherly bridge to the One who births us all.
Joyful, joyful, we adore thee, God of glory, Lord of Love... Giver of immortal gladness, fill us with the light of day...Joyful music leads us Sunward in the triumph song of life. Today I choose to live joyfully, adoring the One who made me, who fills my soul with light and laughter, who has lead me all my life and leads me still with joyful heart music as I mosey on home to the Source of all Joy. Thanks be to God. Peggy Hester
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