One Day at a Time

Last night I spent some time in bed thinking about and praying for specific family members and friends with specific life challenges. I realized how deeply I wish for instant happy outcomes for everyone. When I was a pre-teen, I read voraciously--almost always shallow novels in which a plain girl wins the heart of a handsome prince and they live happily forever without problems. I must have internalized that irrational dream. Anyway, with my rational brain I realize that challenges help us grow, and since God is totally smart he will make sure that each back is strong enough for its particular burden. Therein lies peace.

Yesterday we enjoyed celebrating Joshua's first birthday, and he made a pretty smear of chocolate icing on his handsome little face. His other great-grandmother joined us for the party. Today we're back at the lake, where we need to put Christmas decorations away and get the place clean for the rest of the winter. Tomorrow we'll drive back to Charlotte.

My fingertips are better, and the mouth sores are gone. My eyes are watering and my feet are, as usual, stiff and tingly, but not bad. I feel so blessed.

We'll plan an early departure tomorrow morning, so I probably won't post an update until we're home.

Blessings,
Carol

Joshua Rocks

What a sweetheart! Great grandmothers are permitted to boast, I hope. Everything is fun for him. And he claps to applaud every achievement. Today we're having an early first birthday party for him. We enjoyed a wonderful afternoon yesterday with the Slager families and Lora, and then some of them joined us at the motel for a swim.

I've been selecting Bible verses for regular faith recitation. Psalm 107:19: "Lord, help!" they cried in their trouble, and he saved them from their distress. He spoke and they were healed--snatched from the door of death. Let them praise the Lord for his great love and for all his wonderful deeds. Let them offer sacrifices of thanksgiving and sing joyfully about his glorious acts.

My cancer buddy in Charlotte has begun a new kemo routine. We're praying for a miracle for him. For me, too, actually. God is well able to drive those cancer antigens down.

Thanks so much for staying connected by your love and praying.

Love,

Carol

"Urbana"

I'm thinking and praying about the "Urbana" mission conference that's going on right now. Bunches of people from SIM are there to interact with the thousands of delegates, mostly young, who are exploring mission. Six years ago we were there with our oldest grandson James. What a thrilling experience to worship with about 20,000 Christ-followers from all around the world.

Today we're going to Michigan where we'll see James and his wife Liz and son Joshua as well as Sue, Jeff and Justin. Tomorrow we'll have an early celebration for Joshua's first birthday.

A quiet week between Christmas and New Year is great for reflection. The past year has been so filled with gifts of grace, important lessons, and opportunities to grow. Next year will be too.

Love,

Carol

Kindness

Lying in bed last night, the idea came to me to choose a word for the year. I chose kindness. It's a beautiful idea, and biblical. "Be kind to one another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, even as God, for Christ's sake, has forgiven you." Kindness is also hugely needed in these days when so many suffer pain due to meanness and small-spiritedness. 2007--watch for kindness.

I'm trying to post a photo of a couple of people painting pottery last Saturday, but blogger isn't working very well. I'll try another time.

In the interest of candor, I'll tell you about a low session of sadness on Christmas afternoon. I think it was partly due to the same issue that dragged me down in June at Jeremy's graduation party. All of us together, loving one another, felt so good that I ached to think of maybe having to leave all this. But there was more. I was thinking about three big concerns over which I've prayed so much (two of them for a very long time) that seem "never" to change. I went to my room and lay down, crying out for comfort. Knowing that Jesus identified the Holy Spirit as the Comforter, I asked him directly for comfort. And he answered. Know what he said? "I love you." Over the next few minutes, the sadness lifted and I realized in a fresh way that the message of Christmas, "I love you," is really all I need. I think it's what we all need.

Thanks for loving us and praying for us.

Carol

How Silently

Before we opened our gifts, we sang carols. My favorite is still "O Little Town." How silently, how silently, the wondrous gift is given. So God imparts to human hearts the blessings of His heaven. No ear may hear his coming, but in this world of sin, where meek souls will receive him, still the dear Christ enters in. Yes!

Now the Slagers have returned to Michigan, and our party is small. In a couple of days, we'll go there for an early 1-year birthday party for great-grandson Joshua. We haven't seen him or his parents for half a year, and we're very excited about the plan.

Meanwhile, a couple of quiet days are appealing. I have some reading and writing I want to do, and we'll get some extra rest.

Grandson Justin (far left in photo) leaves early Saturday morning for a month in Costa Rica. Sue and Jeff will have two of their three sons out of the country at once.

Aside from minor lingering kemo effects (very manageable), I'm feeling very well. One week from today is another CA 125 test, and kemo is scheduled for the next day. I'm praying the numbers are dropping. How I appreciate your care and prayers.

Love,
Carol

Christmas Blessings

These are the village decorators of our family. Now we have all these beautiful houses sitting around waiting to be eaten.

Christmas Eve was so lovely. We recited (or read) the christmas story in Luke 2, and we sang some Christmas carols. We were quite restrained on gifts this year, and it was more than okay.

We took Lisa to the Fort Wayne airport at 6 this morning, and just got a phone call that her plane had circled for an hour trying to fold up the landing gear, and had finally landed again--in Fort Wayne. Surely she'll miss her connection in Detroit. Not exactly a nice Christmas gift, is it? But they're safe; that's good. She had hoped to be back in Washington DC ahead of the holiday rush.

Now there are only 9 of us left. We're enjoying a sweet quiet Christmas Day.

There are so many colds and flu around here. Hoping to stay well.

Love,

Carol

Pottery Painting and Gingerbread Houses

Yesterday stretched our creative capacities. At Pottery Bayou, each of us decorated an item for someone else. It was fun, especially to observe the way everyone thought carefully about the recipient's preferences and interests in order to reflect them in their "work of art." We'll have to wait about a week to get them back from the firing.

Last evening we trimmed seven gingerbread houses. Several pounds of icing and candy resulted in an amazing village. I'd love to post a photo, but the connection is so slow that it's not working. I'll do it as soon as I can.

How much good is in our lives because of the Incarnation! Now at Christmas Eve (even though Jesus was certainly not born in the winter), we're celebrating all that he brought to us when he came--and continues to give us daily by his Spirit. It's pretty obvious that we humans, by our own efforts, aren't going to bring about "peace on earth," although we certainly need to live personal lives of peace. Still, we rest in the huge hope of the total peace that will prevail when he is finally King over all. Old Anna knew a bunch of people in Jerusalem who were eagerly expecting the coming of the Christ, and she talked with them. I think we, too, are in a circle of friends who are eagerly expecting his next coming.

I'm continuing to feel well, and trying to do all the things that I believe are my role to play in my beating this cancer. The outcome, as always, is in God's hands.

Have a blessed Christmas.

Love,
Carol

Source of Song

One of the devotional books here at the lake is Sanctuary by David Jeremiah. Yesterday's reading was about the source of music. Christians sing; the song wells up from deep within their redeemed souls. The story of the first Christmas is filled with songs: Mary's. Elizabeth's, Zechariah's, Simeon's, and the angels'. Nothing has really changed, except that Christ fulfilled his purpose for that birth through his life, death and resurrection. So now we, of all people, have all the more reason to sing.

Thursday night we heard Gavin's school choir concert. I told him I thought they'd done especially well on "Hodie, Christus Natus Est." Excitedly, he replied, "Mimi, do you know what it means? Today Christ is born!"

Grandson Justin and his friend Lora came yesterday. This morning Sue and Jeff will come. We're going to Pottery Bayou this afternoon so all of us can express creativity (or not) by decorating an item of pottery as a gift for someone. The store will fire them and deliver them later. After that Karin's friends from law school will join us at the house and we'll all decorate gingerbread houses. (We'd planned to do that yesterday, but a couple of peole weren't feeling well.) I think everyone is better today.)

Have a blessed Christmas, with a song at least in your heart.

Love,
Carol

Joy and Hope

It's so good to be here with the McGraths and Lisa. A musician friend also came for a visit this afternoon. Years ago she and I used to work together leading worship for women's conferences. I'm older than she is, and we're both in a season of life transition just now. It was wonderful to see her.

I'm feeling well; we're thankful for our safe travel yesterday, and for Lisa's on-time arrival.

The day before we left, I received a Christmas card with a booklet that has given me a fresh idea to pursue healing. I plan to print some cards with positive faith-inducing Bible truths, and read at least one of them aloud whenever I take my supplements, three or four times a day. The point is that we do not deny what is true, but we also don't emphasize bad news. Instead, we recite the truths from Scripture about God's power and love and life. I guess you'd have to read the booklet for it to make sense. Anyway, this will be a good project.

This will be Friday's posting. I'll be back as soon as I can.

I hope your meditations during this final week of Advent are filling you with joy and hope.

Love,
Carol

Arrived in Indiana

Hi, this is Karin--blogging on behalf of Mom, who is without internet service at the lake until tonight.

Mom and Dad arrived at the lake late last night, having picked up Lisa in Ft. Wayne. Despite a delayed plane, Lisa made her connection and arrived on time.

Calli is home sick today, but we'll be heading to the lake to see Mom and Dad (Mimi and Boppi) and Lisa in a bit. Calli can snooze on the couch there as well as here. Please pray the germs are kept from my parents.

We're looking forward to a special Christmas. It is such a blessing to be celebrating with Mom, considering where we were a year ago. God is good...all the time (that's a mom-ism for you).

Thank you all so much for the love you show to my parents. Words cannot express how much it means to them (and my sisters and I) to have so many people loving them and praying for them. They are blessed with amazing friends.

Mom will write more tonight.

Karin

Shouts of Thanks

The Doxil rash is better already. Thanks for your prayers. Thanks to God for answering! Fresh need: my fingertips started peeling and cracking yesterday.

Last evening the SIM International office had its Christmas party. Just before dinner was served, about a dozen of us went outside to watch the International Space Station sail across the sky. Today, I understand, the shuttle is going to break away and return “home.” The food was great and so was simply being together. I’m happy to say that several got up and danced to the carol I introduced. Fun.

So many have expressed concern and encouragement about my rising cancer numbers. We appreciate you so much. We are aware that many of you face issues that are fully as troubling as my cancer, and we pray that God is giving you peace as he is giving us too. What would we ever do without him? He has promised to give us strength for each day. What a gift! I’m still feeling well—especially when I get enough sleep.

With each day’s strength, let’s praise God and encourage others. A friend sent this quote from H.R. Rookmaker: “We are not free to opt out of the period of history God has placed us in, nor opt out of the task he has given us to live as his children here and now.”

We’re leaving soon for a 12+ hour trip to our lake house in Indiana. The journey will be longer as we’re meeting Lisa’s flight in Fort Wayne on the way (due at 8:50 pm). We’d really like her flight to be on time.

We still don’t have internet access at the lake. I’ll post another update as soon as I can. We’re continuing to trust God to drive those cancer cells out. Surely he is not perplexed by CA 125! I’m grateful to those who are also praying for my cancer buddy. It seems his situation is more immediately dangerous than mine.

Blessings,Carol

Fear< - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - >Faith

Maybe the title hints at the struggle in my mind this morning. A few days ago I mentioned our devotional reading in indeed, reflecting on God's command to "Fear not" and the implication that fear is the opposite of faith and therefore an insult to God. Now it's time to resolutely walk that spectrum over to the faith end and STAY there.

The CA 125 report doesn't look good. It's 290, up 68 points since November 27. The oncologist wants another test run the day before the next kemo is scheduled on January 3. He was willing to give Doxil more time as long as the trajectory was leveling off, but it's not. Two prayer requests: (1) that God, by His power, will drive the cancer antigens out of my system; and (2) that God, by His wisdom, will guide us and the doctor regarding future treatment. Two big praises: (1) God is absolutely good and unlimited in his ability to save and help; and (2) I continue to feel very well. I can't stop there. (3) We have the loving support of the most wonderful circle of friends, family, and prayer partners anyone could ever wish for. Yesterday we were commenting that if prayer were a mathematical formula, that is, if X amount of prayer equalled Y amount of healing, I would be perfectly well by now. I know that every one of your prayers is being answered already in my wellbeing and in the daily gifts of grace we receive. I'm sure you're as frustrated as we are about the CA 125 numbers, and I appreciate your sticking with us into the next phase whatever it is.

Christmas cards continue to arrive containing the most amazing words of comfort and encouragement and love. Treasures! One friend passed along a prayer written by the Rev. Charles Simeon, Cambridge, 1759, which she prays regularly. "What is before us we know not, whether we shall live or die; but this we know, that all things are ordered and sure, everything is ordered with unnerring wisdom and unbounded love by thee, our God, who is love. Grant us in all things to see thy hand through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen." To that I say Amen too.

We leave for Indiana tomorrow morning. Tonight we'll enjoy our office Christmas party. I hope several people will choose to dance as we sing the new Celtic-type carol I'm going to teach them. It runs through my head a lot. "Come shed your heavy load and dance your worries all away, for Christ the Lord was born in Bethlehem. He came to break the power of sin and turn your night to day, Oh take my hand and come and join the song."

Thanks so much for your love and prayers.

Carol

Wonder

I wonder about a lot of things. I'm sure you do too. During this Advent season, Madeleine L'Engle (in Winter Song) is helping me think wondering thoughts about small and big things. Maybe this will be the last quote I share from her:

"Particle physics teaches us that energy and matter are interchangeable. So, for love of us recalcitrant human creatures, the sheer energy of Christ changed into the matter of Jesus, ordinary human matter...born with the seed of death already within the flesh as a sign of solidarity with our mortality.

"But this birth also promises us that our human, mortal matter is permeated with Christ's total energy, the creative energy which shouted into being all the galaxies, hydrogen clouds, solar systems, planets, all life--even us! When Christ was born as Jesus, born of a human mother as all babies are born, that incredible birth honored all our births, and assured us that we, God's beloved children, partake of eternal life. For indeed it follows that as Christ partook of human life, we partake of the divine life.

"How can we trivialize the Incarnation as we have done? It's more than our puny minds can comprehend. It's one reason Jesus kept insisting that we be as little children, because we can understand this wonder only with childheartedness, not with grown-up sophistication."

With that in mind, the day that lies ahead is quivering with significance. Yesterday was too. God was present in our Sunday School class and worship service. In the afternoon we visited two more neighbor families. Time flies. We now have two days in which to pull things together for our simple-but-significant Christmas time in Indiana with our kids and grandkids.

This morning we expect the report on the CA 125 test. Whatever it says, we intend to continue to Fully Rely On God. (Where else can we put our trust?)

Love,
Carol

Finding Meaning

This season, Advent, is so loaded with meaning that we have to be deaf, blind, and comatose to miss it; and yet we do. The busy attempt to create perfect moments for our children and our friends can plug the channel through which we might receive insights that could transform our ordinary moments into luminous encounters with transcendent God. He came here to die and rise again, He stayed here in the person of the Holy Spirit, and He will come here again in a burst of unending delight. There's mystery there, and hope, and meaning.

During this in-between time, our best orientation is to line up with God's purposes. That seems axiomatic. Yet, I find that my natural orientation is slanted towards me, what I want, what feels good, even what makes me look good. I like Annie Dillard's aspiration: "the suppression of self-consciousness, and a certain precise tilt of the will, so that the will becomes transparent and hollow, a channel for the work" (from Teaching a Stone to Talk).

Yesterday my daughter called for help with a recipe. After we hung up, I thought, "I can't die! My kids still need me!" Silly, I suppose, but not to them or me. Then I thought of a young woman who had asked my advice about pumpkin pie at the grocery store a day earlier. Bless her heart, no one ever taught her the first thing about cooking, and she doesn't even have a cookbook. Afterwards I wished I'd invited her to my house so we could bake that pie together. (This paragraph wasn't intended to be profound; don't wear yourself out looking for meaning here.)

My college roommate (1958-59) included a personal note in her Christmas card. I love her. Most people avoid the topic of death, as if some magic in speaking the word can make it happen or not happen. She referred to her mother's death and reflected on the sad fact that so many people came to the funeral whom her mother hadn't seen for years, including her own brother. "She would have loved to spend time with them. So, one advantage of your situation, family, friends, associates that care about you, have enjoyed knowing you and all have been able to tell you how much they care and value you. Too few of us get that opportunity." So right! She went on to say that her prayer is that I'll beat this and hang around at least long enough so we can be old and wrinkled together at our college reunion. She is fun and wise. One year and ten days ago I didn't know I had cancer. Yet my remaining days were already counted out--as they still are. Maybe many, maybe few, God knows. So why don't we all just live as though we have a terminal disease (which we do), dissolving regrets by vigorous peacemaking? Okay, end of sermon!

Some of my itches are turning into raw sores. Maybe I'm scratching at night. I guess my skin has become fragile. It seems like many kemo effects show up for awhile and then fade away. Think how disabled I'd be by now if all of them had continued to worsen! God is so kind, and I know your prayers make such a difference.

Love,
Carol

It All Began...

Yesterday I was reading in Luke 1, and I was struck by the statement, "It all began with Zechariah, an old man." I thought how God waits to do His thing until everything is in place. In the Old Testament he had said he would send a prophet to announce Jesus' soon coming; that would be John the Baptist. Before John could come, the father (Zechariah) and mother (Elizabeth) had to be ready. And the miracle of John's birth so late in their lives got the whole hill country buzzing. Even that, I suppose, helped some to believe in Jesus the Christ when he made his appearances--as a baby in the temple, as a 12-year-old in the temple, and then as Teacher/Healer/Savior beginnng at the age of 30. It's fascinating to speculate about ordinary God-seekers who saw or heard about these things and put them together with prophetic expectations to say, "Look! There he is! The Messiah!" And "it all began" with an old man. What do you know? (Some of us "old people" need to know that we have a role in God's good plans too, as long as we're available.)

Times were tough for the Jews in those days. Zechariah's inability to speak for many months was a bummer. It couldn't have been easy for Elizabeth to carry and deliver a baby as an old woman. And up in Nazareth, a few months later, Mary and Joseph were putting up with scorn and gossip. Still, the tone of the story in Luke is not grim but joyful. Isn't that itself a miracle from God?

Yesterday afternoon I copied a photo and a couple of Jeremy's latest postings here on my blog. His recent experiences have seriously challenged his joy. Read on down if you're interested.

My cancer buddy and his wife are studying the papers about the proposed clinical trials and are feeling confused and discouraged. Please help us pray that God will clearly guide them.

Yesterday I worked until 5 without excess fatigue. That side of things seems to be improving for me. I still have several rashes, beginning mouth sores, and that pesky esophagus. Nothing is bad enough to interfere with life or joy, but of course we're praying for relief anyway. (Also, I guess, if the kemo effects worsen over the next 2 1/2 weeks, maybe the doctor won't want to administer another Doxil. Every day with cancer brings new adventures, doesn't it?)

Tonight is our Sunday School class Christmas party. Imagine the fun of an evening with those wonderful people!

I'm sorry I obeyed blogger and switched to the beta version. I notice that in the past couple of postings my paragraph spacings didn't work (I tried many times to fix them). I also understand that even if you used to be able to leave comments as a blogger member you can't now. I think if you call yourself "Anonymous" it will accept your comments, and of course you can sign your name anyway if you want to. I hope the little techie bug catchers are hard at work, day and night, to fix the problems.

Love,
Carol

Some Words and a Photo from Jeremy

Jeremy is in the city of Niamey, Niger, with internet access for a couple of days. So he has posted some new material on his blogsite, including the story behind this picture. That's a machete in his hand, and on his shoulders is the person he says he respects most in all the world. Here's the story:

"This is Gizmo and I after our work at the church. He is the specialest (new word I think) kid I've met here. I'll just copy my devo's from that night to give you a flavor.

"My mind has been blasted to pieces…by the most unassuming of people. The smallest of children is the one with the biggest heart. We went to work at the church today, cutting down thorn bushes and burning them. As I was on my way, Gizmo (I don’t know his real name) just walked beside me and helped me carry the tools out there. I was amazed. All the other children were running ahead and wanting to play with things. But Gizmo just walked silently behind me, doing his “job” and smiling all the way. He doesn’t speak French, so I couldn’t really tell him how much I appreciated it. We then came to the rocky part before the church, and Gizmo only has one old flip flop. He carefully picked his way through the rocks (they hurt my feet, and I wore shoes). We finally made it to the church and I assumed he would then head home. But he stayed. There were a bunch of other children there, and essentially, they were useless in the work. They would come up and ask to use my machete, take two swipes then start playing around with it. But not Gizmo…throughout the 3 hours, he never stopped. He would just smile, pick up the brush that I’d cut off, then carry it over to the fire. All the other kids are goofing off, but he just keeps pulling out a dorky little smile as he takes another load to the fire. He never said a word. This is where I finally realized how amazing this kid was. When I was a kid, would I have just kept working when all my friend were off laughing and playing? Would I even have tried to cross the rocks to get there? But the story doesn’t end there. Remember Gizmo only had one flip-flop? Well, we were cleaning an area with thorns all over the ground. They were getting all over my shorts and hands and I had to keep stopping to pick them off. Then I saw Gizmo, he was just hobbling along, touching his un-sandaled foot to the ground as lightly as possible (because it had a bunch of thorns in it). Yet he just kept working. I couldn’t handle it, anymore. What was with this kid? Why was he going through obvious pain just to help me clean up some weeds?

Eventually it got to the point where he was just jumping on one foot. It was then I just stopped, went over to him and picked the 6 thorns out of his foot. And he just kept working! I couldn’t believe it. I tried as hard as I could to think of a way to pay him back for this…and all I could come up with was to give him a ride back home on my shoulders. It hardly even shows how much I appreciated his painful work. Where does this devotion come from? There is so much to learn here from the little child…I don’t even know where to start. My goodness. I don’t know if I’ve ever had this much respect for anyone…and he’s only about 7!"

Friday's posting is the one that breaks my heart. Jeremy had such a huge disappointment Thursday night. I'll copy that story here:

Surprised by Pain
Yesterday’s topic was Surprised by Joy. So yesterday I was basically saying how I wanted to be joyful no matter what the circumstances. Why? Because God doesn’t change, because He still loves me and because it doesn’t seem like my joy should depend on my circumstances. Well, I guess God thought that it would be a good time to test my commitment to that.

So last night my friends had all planned to call me on Skype (Internet phone service). I’ve been looking forward to this night since, oh, I came to Niger. Being able to talk to almost all of my friends back home at the same time! How exciting! We’d planned it for 10 o’clock my time. At 9 o’clock I got on the Internet and just surfed until 10. Sounds like fun, huh?I’m still not sure what happened. At 10, the Internet just ceased to exist. It just stopped...nothing. This one thing that I’d been looking forward to for so long...gone. And I’m left wondering, “Why God?” (I realize now that this doesn’t sound like a really big deal. I can’t really explain how much I was looking forward to this.)

So as I sat staring at my computer for an hour, wondering what went wrong, a story was brought to mind. One day, a long time ago, Jonathan Edwards was preaching. As he was preaching someone burst into the room shouting, Mr. Edwards, your home is on fire! His answer (blows my mind), “I guess I was holding on to it too tightly and God needed to take it away.” (Slight paraphrase...I can’t find the story for exact words. I’m actually not sure if it was Jonathon Edwards...it might’ve been John Wesley. But either way, the story is moving, no matter who it was). Could God be telling me that I am STILL holding my friends too closely? Could he be showing me that I’ve left my hope and comfort back home, and not given it to God? I have the feeling, the answer is yes. (Okay, side note. This is really weird writing this, because those friends that I missed last night will probably read this. So um, now you know what happened. Sorry! Maybe now I’ve learned my lesson and African internet will cooperate next time.)

So now I went back to my room, feeling terrible. All the pressures and problems of Niger came crashing down on me, and I really just wanted to tell God to fix it and let me be normal again. Then I remembered the words I’d written that day...about how powerful joy can be. And honestly, I felt like a hypocrite. Here I was, telling everyone to be joyful in their trials...and then I have one, and I just want to leave. So I just prayed, laid my heart before God, and then debated on whether it was worth it to praise God. It was a pretty one sided argument. Here’s the reasons for pouting: I can make myself feel more miserable, I can pay God back for earlier (worthless gesture), I can turn my nose up at the God of the universe because I believe that my plans are better than His and let Satan claim victory because I didn’t follow through on my plan to be joyful. OR I can: turn the focus off myself and onto the goodness of God, tell God once again that His plans are best and that I trust those plans, bring God more glory by praising Him through the storm, and start to deal with the problems I have instead of suppressing them. Tough choice. But honestly, the words were not easy coming out. It was like a whisper through clenched teeth. Like the words were reluctant to come out. But out they came, and it was like a breath of fresh air. The more I praised, the easier it became. It turned from a crummy night into a wonderful experience. Amazing that God can work like that! Just another day in the life.

Hope you all have a crummy day too...so you can turn back the praise to God! Love y’all. Jeremy"

We're praying a lot that God will accomplish His purposes through this precious 19-year-old kid. His blog address is http://jeremyinafrica.blogspot.com if you'd like to check it for yourself.

Thanks for reading this far. I didn't know how to shorten it.

Fear NOT

This gift came in yesterday's mail from a dear young couple who are on their way to Burkina Faso--he to work in ministries related to HIV and she to work with children at risk. Would you believe F.R.O.G. jam? (Figs, raspberries, oranges, and ginger.) I downsized the image so it wouldn't jam up your computer, and now it doesn't read very well. Wish I could share a taste with you.

At Christmas I like to reread the various accounts in the Gospels of the coming of Christ. It's striking how often God and angels say, "Fear not." I have always taken that as the gentle, comforting murmur as of a mother seeking to soothe a frightened child. "Don't worry, honey, I know it's scary but here, let me hold you tight." Yesterday, Chuck and I read in our devotional book, indeed, a quite different interpretation of "Fear not." The author wrote, "The most common biblical command is 'fear not.' ...fear and faith are at two ends of a spectrum, and when we move towad one, we move away from the other....Fear is illegitimate because 'the Lord your God is with you, he is mighty to save'" (Zephaniah 3:17). So I've been thinking. "Fear not" is not a soft invitation to come to God for comfort if I want to. It's a command with terrible implications. If fear is at the oppposite end of faith, my insistence on wallowing in fear is an insult to the mighty-to-save God. I admit that fear strikes without warning, out of nowhere, full-blown and overpowering. I can either choose to remain under its power, or I can choose to turn my back on it and push over to the faith side of the spectrum, where God waits to give his peace and show his power.

My rash is definitely better. I realized yesterday that I've been putting up with quite a lot of esophagus trouble. It feels plugged, and every swallow or burp borders on pain. My oncologist is sending me to a gastro-enterologist to check it out. Our trip north will delay that visit until January 4. There's no point in being afraid, but a little research on the internet motivated me to call the doctor and tell him what was going on. I hope it's only a kemo-effect and will fade over the next couple of weeks. I'd be very grateful for your prayers about this new development.

My cancer buddy heard the worst: the cancer in the lymph node in his neck is not operable. He may get into a drug study. We went to see them yesterday afternoon. We pray for God's peace and wisdom for him and his wife. Thank you so much for praying for him too.

Blessings,

Carol

Season of Gifts

Last evening we phoned, then visited our neighbors across the street with our Christmas greeting. As we walked back up the drive, the neighbors from the other side of our house were just ringing our doorbell. So we enjoyed a delightful Christmas visit with them too. I know this is old-fashioned, but we love our friendly neighbors!

In Valley of Vision, the collection of Puritan prayers I've mentioned before, I read a moving Christmas prayer. I'll quote part of it here (you'll recall that it uses older "thee" and "thou" language):

Herein is wonder of wonders:
he came below to raise me above,
was born like me that I might become like him.
Herein is love:
when I cannot rise to him he draws near on wings of grace,
to raise me to himself.
Herein is power:
when Deity and humanity were infinitely apart
he united them in indissoluble unity,
the uncreated and the created.
Herein is wisdom:
when I was undone, with no will to return to him,
and no intellect to devise recovery,
he came, God-incarnate, to save me to the uttermost,
as man to die my death,
to shed satisfying blood on my behalf,
to work out a perfect righteousness for me.

O God, take me in spirit to the watchful shepherds,
and enlarge my mind;
let me hear good tidings of great joy,
and hearing, believe, rejoice, praise, adore,
my conscience bathed in an ocean of repose,
my eyes uplifted to a reconciled Father;
place me with ox, ass, camel, goat,
to look with them upon my Redeemer's face,
and in him account myself delivered from sin.

Let me with Simeon clasp the new-born child to my heart,
embrace him with undying faith,
exulting that he is mine and I am his,
In Him thou hast given me so much
that heaven can give no more.

This gave me words for the desires I feel today.

I think I'm less tired; I hope so. The rash seems less severe also. Thanks for praying.

Love,
Carol

Please Pray

Please pray. My cancer buddy did not get good news from the biopsy of his lymph node. It contains cancer cells. He and his wife will see the oncologist on Thursday. They need peace and comfort right now, and they all need wisdom to know what to do next. Thanks for praying.

I want to maintain a thankful spirit, because there is so much to thank God for (and besides, self-pity is toxic). So I’ll just tell you, without comment, that I had to come home early again yesterday and go to bed. Another prayer item: I’m getting an itchy rash on my elbows and upper arms and my knees. Could be an effect of the Doxil. I plan to let the doctor know about it. If the Doxil is destroying the cancer, I certainly don’t want to quit merely because the effects are getting uncomfortable. We need wisdom too.

Now, a poem that’s sobering:

CHRISTMAS
You still walk the streets,
our streets,
looking for a place to put your head,
still poorer than a bird in its nest.

You still knock on the double-latched bolted-shut door
with Christians inside.

Christ, you are still discarded
and dropped in the wastebasket
of sometime or never.

Christ, your chance is still slim
in our land of goodness and keep-smiling,
where we live by your ethics
without knowing you.
Proclaimed: teacher among teachers,
king among kings,
God among gods,
one of the many ways to salvation,
take it or leave it.

Jesus, don’t let me live outside of you,
outside of the heart of the world.
Smash down my locked door, rest in my house
and sit at my table.
let me be on your side,
drown me in your love.
Neglect the name and number that I am,
the address and place in or out of society
and break through to me
to release the weights
clinging to my hands and feet.

And love me into your love,
into your Christmas.

By Ulrich Schaffer, in Greater than our Hearts: Prayers and Reflections, Harper & Row Publishers, 1981.

Love,
Carol

The Basics are Basic

I recall a conversation with our friend on Inter Varsity staff many years ago. He said when people find their lives out of sorts, they usually look for a dramatic solution--a silver bullet, as they say. Our friend said, "I almost get tired of saying it, but the answer in almost every case is to stick with the basics: meet God regularly in His word and prayer, obey what He says, be kind to people," etc. It's not that doing the right things magically protects us from all kinds of trouble. But whether we're in trouble or not, those disciplines will carry us through on a steady keel.

I thought about that last night as I saw our little lighted frog sculpture each time I woke up. After all these months, it's still essential to Fully Rely On God! And when I forget, anxieties flood in. In the same way, when I fail to keep high-tech cream on my feet, the skin dries and cracks (and hurts) as a consequence of the kemo. And when I don't get enough sleep I drag through the days. And when I drop an attitude of thanksgiving, self-pity takes its place. So back to the basics.

Last evening we attended a fund-raiser for a residential ministry to Kenyan children whose parents died of AIDS. Their smiling faces and academic successes belie their desperate condition and poor prospects before they came to Gethsemane Gardens Christian Centre. Inspiring!

Our prayers are with our daughter Karin today as she writes her civil procedures final exam in law school. I know it will be tough. She has been enormously encouraged by finding a classmate who is a committed Christian. I think we'll get to meet her and her husband while we're in Indiana at Christmas time.

Have a blessed day.

Carol

More Thoughts about Simeon and Anna

What longing impelled him,
Old, weary, and bowed?
What voice said to Simeon,
"Go now!
Go now!"?

The same voice that whispered
One day now long past,
"In life you will see Him--
The Christ!
The Christ!"

The parents and Simeon
And Anna, the seer,
With joy recognized Him--
He's here!
He's here!

I, too, long to see Him,
To tune to His word,
With still heart to tremble,
My Lord!
My Lord!

There must be a sixth sense (or tenth, or whatever) that some people develop for knowing/seeing/hearing/experiencing God. It's a beautiful thing. I read recently, in Rob Bell's Velvet Elvis, that a tour guide is one who sees the amazing within the ordinary. And once they point it out to us, we see with new eyes too. Annie Dillard calls herself a stalker of truth. Virginia Stem Owens calls herself a spy. Tom (our Sunday School teacher) is a God chaser. Today, may we all see the "amazing within the ordinary."

Last evening we did an old-faschioned thing; we went to our neighbors for a Christmas cup of coffee. (Spur-of-the-minute, with a phone call first.) It was lovely.

I hope my cancer buddy gets some word today about his biopsy. And we continue to pray that my kemo is driving out my cancer. Because of holiday schedules and our travel, I'm getting my CA 125 test this coming Friday. That's only slightly past two weeks since kemo; I hope it will give helpful guidance for the doctor's next steps. More than that, we're praying it will show a drop in cancer antigens. Thanks for praying with us. I'm still tired, and so is Chuck. At least we're slowing down together!

Have an amazing-within-the ordinary day. And create stillness, somehow.

Love,
Carol

How Did They Know?

The opera we saw last evening, "Simeon," was well done and charming. The author spun an imaginative drama around the brief episode in the Gospel about the old man Simeon who knew he would see the Lord Christ before he died. From the Bible, we know only that he saw Mary and Joseph carrying 40-day-old Jesus to the temple as required by the law to redeem the first-born son in every family. Simeon took the Babe in his arms, announced that because of Him a sword would pierce Mary's heart, and prayed, "Lord, now you can let me die because I have seen the One You promised." The opera presented a highly chance meeting of Simeon with some shepherds and an emissary of the Magi, all of whom added bits of information about Christ's birth which led him to the temple that morning. The opera didn't mention old Anna, but she was actually there too, and she too recognized the Babe as Messiah. A question that comes often to my mind is this: "How did they know?" And I wonder whether we would encounter Him more in our daily lives if we were as eagerly watching for Him as they were. Hmmm.

Our visit in Greenville was delightful. I'm still struggling with fatigue, and went to bed as soon as we got home this afternoon. Chuck suggests that my hemoglobin may be low. It was actually quite favorable when tested on kemo day two weeks ago. Maybe I'll call the doctor and ask for another blood test. Or maybe tiredness simply goes with the territory at this stage of treatment.

I hope your Sunday has been great. I'll be back Monday morning.

Blessings,
Carol

O Come and Join the Dance

I 'll lead some carol singing for our office party on the 19th. Much as most of us love the old, traditional carols, I thought I'd look for one new thing, and I found this. The tune is very Celtic-sounding. We have a couple of outstanding dancers on our staff, and I hope they'll be willing to lead some dancers as the rest of us sing these words:

O come and join the dance that all began so long ago,
when Christ the Lord was born in Bethlehem.
Through all the years of darkness still the dance goes on and on,
oh, take my hand and come and join the song.

Come shed your heavy load and dance your worries all away,
for Christ the Lord was born in Bethlehem.
He came to break the power of sin and turn your night to day,
oh, take my hand and come and join the song.

Let laughter ring and angels sing and joy be all around,
for Christ the Lord was born in Bethlehem.
And if you seek with all your hearts He surely can be found,
oh, take my hand and come and join the song.

Rejoice! Rejoice! Rejoice! Rejoice! O lift your voice and sing,
and open up your heart to welcome Him.
Rejoice! Rejoice! Rejoice! Rejoice! and welcome now your King,
for Christ the Lord was born in Bethlehem.

Isn't it a beautiful invitation? What a great reason to dance and rejoice!

You may think this is silly, but I believe my lingering sense of "something is wrong" was due to the sickness of one of my daughters. She hadn't wanted to "bother me," and by the time I called her yesterday she was already much better. At once my own spirit lifted.

We're going to Greenville, South Carolina, this afternoon to visit dear friends , go to an opera ("Simeon") at Bob Jones University, and stay overnight. I may have to wait until Sunday afternoon to post a blog again. Have a wonderful morning of worship.

Blessings,
Carol

Thankful

The outside thermometer reads 16 F. this morning. Brr! I can hear the furnace running, and I'm sure it will soon be comfortable in the house. I'm old enough to remember when we always woke up cold in the winter, and our parents had to go to the basement and put wood or coal in the furnace to warm us up again. I can still hear my father exclaim, "Even heat! Even heat!" after he converted our furnace to stoker-fed. So this morning I'm giving thanks for the blessing of automatic gas heat. And praying with compassion for those who aren't so blessed, and are shivering this morning.

I've crawled out of that extreme tiredness I was feeling all week. But there's a mystery I haven't solved yet. I still have this overhanging sense that something isn't right. It's like the anxiety you feel when you need to make something right, or when there's something you promised to do and you've forgotten or neglected to do it. Or like the classic nightmare of realizing it's time for the final exam and you haven't gone to class all semester. Maybe even like people in the early stages of senility; they know they're missing something important, but the synapses don't connect and they can't "fix" the feeling. Yesterday I read, "If you need wisdom--if you want to know what God wants you to do--ask him, and he will gladly tell you. He will not resent your asking. But when you ask him, be sure that you really expect him to answer, for a doubtful mind is as unsettled as a wave of the sea that is driven and tossed by the wind" (James 1:5,6). That's a fantastic promise. I'm asking God to let me know if this strange feeling is to let me know there's something He wants me to do. I'm expecting an answer.

I'm thankful for the incredible protection I'm given every day against common effects of kemo, and also against the multitude of germs being coughed in my direction daily. I feel so blessed. Chuck's respiratory infection is also much improved. Thanks so much for your prayers.

I hope you'll have a great day.

Carol

An Answer to Prayer

Yesterday we prayed for my cancer buddy, whose PET scan showed trouble in a lymph node but he had to wait two weeks for a biopsy. Last evening we learned that he's getting it done today. Surely this is the work of God! Thank You! Now we need to pray for an accurate diagnosis and treatment--and for healing, whatever it is.

I'm still experiencing fatigue, and for the first time all year my throat is a bit sore. I've been so wonderfully shielded from infection; I trust this will pass quickly too. I think I've learned my lesson: when I feel tired, I come home and rest.

Yesterday I discovered more about Messiah. Charles Jennens, the compiler of Scriptures for the great masterwork, wrote, "I hope [Handel] will lay out his whole genius and skill upon it, that the composition may excel all his former compositions, as the subject excels every other subject. The subject is Messiah." Then he penned the following introduction to the lyrics:

Majora Canamus ("let us sing of greater things"), quoting Virgil
1 TImothy 3:16--"And without controversy, great is the mystery of godliness: God was manifested in the flesh, justified by the Spirit, seen of angels, preached among the Gentiles, believed on in the world, received up in glory."
Colossians 2:3--"In whom are hid all the treasures of wisdom and knowledge."

The entire text of Messiah is magnificent and worthy of repeated study. As you know, less than half of it refers to the Story celebrated at Christmas. Parts two and three recount Christ's sacrificial death for our sins and then His resurrection and coming glory. Even though it's "all about Christ," the text does not ignore the huge benefits to us. "If God be for us, who can be against us? Who shall lay anything to the charge of God's elect? It is God who justifieth. Who is he that condemneth? It is Christ that died, yea, rather, that is risen again, who is at the right hand of God, who makes intercession for us." Of course, there's a "Hallelujah" in there!

Which reminds me to remind us all: if we'd engage our minds when we sing or hear Christmas carols, it would bring worship and calm into our hurried lives and pleasure to the heart of God. It might even bring an occasional tear to the eye, a tear of gratitude and wonder.

Lost in wonder,
Carol

Under Control

One year ago tomorrow (December 7, "a date that will live in infamy") I was perched on a stainless steel table in the pulmonologist's office. His back was to me as he read from the computer screen, "Fluid drawn from pleural cavity contains adeno carcinoma cells." In that precise instant, I sensed the presence of God in the room, and I was assured that He had known about the cancer all along and that the whole situation was totally under His loving control. That began a process of tests and consultations that led to surgery a mere 12 days later. The cancer itself wasn't in the lungs, so I moved on past the pulmonologist to my oncologist. A few days after the diagnosis, the pulmonologist called me at home in the evening. "I just wanted to be sure you heard me correctly. You have cancer." I guess he wasn't used to bad news being received so calmly. I truly was calm. God took over. All this year, He has been so good, so kind, so faithful.

My cancer buddy got a discouraging report yesterday on his PET scan. They think what they see in his lungs may be the effects of radiotherapy rather than more cancer. But they're concerned about a newly positive lymph node next to his carotid at the base of his neck. It's holiday time, and he can't get in for a biopsy until December 19. More waiting! Could you join us in praying for him? Another friend confided that she's so exhausted she can hardly get up in the morning. Her doctor called her yesterday with bad news about a recent blood test and instructions to see a kidney specialist this coming Friday. She is always (I mean always) serving others, including rearing her teenage grandchild, and I'm very concerned for her too.

Speaking of exhaustion, I worked only part time both Monday and Tuesday in order to come home and sleep. Yesterday my brain was fuzzy and my vision was blurred. I'm better this morning. Maybe I need to learn to rest even before I feel tired.

I love the Christmas season. Christmas notes are beginning to arrive (by post and by email), and the re-connecting is wonderful.

Have a blessed day.

Carol

A Time like This

Into the Darkest Hour

It was a time like this,
War and tumult of war,
a horror in the air,
Hungry yawned the abyss--
and yet there came the star
and the child most wonderfully there.

It was a time like this
of fear and lust for power,
license and greed and blight--
and yet the Prince of bliss
came into the darkest hour
in quiet and silent light.

And in a time like this
how celebrate his birth
when all things fall apart?
Ah! wonderful it is
with no room on the earth
the stable is our heart.

I wish I could tell you that was my first attempt at poetry, but I hope you wouldn't believe it. It was written by Madeleine L'Engle, published in Winter Song ten years ago, yet sounding as if it were composed yesterday. Ah! Wonderful it is! The stable is our heart!

Last evening we went to Winthrop University's Festival of Carols. Unlike the public schools for lower grades, the program fearlessly featured songs about Christ the Lord. Lots of families were there, as well as university students (I think they were required; at least they were getting their electronic i.d. cards scanned as they entered). The Gospel is clear in the carols. "God rest you merry, gentlemen, let nothing you dismay. Remember Christ our Savior was born on Christmas day, to save us all from Satan's power when we were gone astray."

Sunday evening during the party here, some of the guests shared favorite Christmas memories. Some said their best times were overseas--far from the commercialism and extravagance so annoying here. Others fondly remembered simple (poor) times at home long ago. Our family has agreed to skinny down the shopping this year in order to enjoy one another without the frazzle.

I am so thankful for life. And your love and prayers.

Carol

Paradox

I said yesterday that there was something not right; that Saturday hadn’t exactly been full of “good things.” So in my private prayers and in church Sunday, I was alert to hear what God wanted to say to me. The first word came in a song we sang at the beginning of the church service. “How could heaven’s heart not break on the day, the day that you came? Salvation’s reason to celebrate on the day, the day that you came. Gloria in excelsis deo, Gloria in excelsis deo.” The word I heard was this: heaven’s heart (i.e., God’s heart) is the big picture here. It’s not “all about me.” What’s going on in his heart? A good day is a day in which God is achieving his purposes. That would be every day. I think it’s okay to celebrate a day that’s filled with hundreds of good things that I experience. I think it’s also okay to have a day when I can’t even think of three. (Actually, if I merely counted all the potential symptoms I could be suffering as a result of the cancer and the kemo, I’d have a couple dozen bad things that didn’t happen, which equates to at least 24 good things, doesn’t it? Thank you, God. Thank you, friends, for praying.)

Then in the pastor’s message, which was about shifting allegiance to Jesus’ kingdom, he said the shift involves repentance, faith, receptivity, going public, and practice. The third, receptivity, grabbed my mind. This is crucial—to receive and live by the grace and provision Jesus gives. Otherwise we fall into the trap of trying to “do” the Christian life by ourselves.

Our party last evening for Chuck’s department at SIM was very fun. We heard the familiar story of Christ's birth read in a sort of West African English. We sang carols and said good words to one another. Ate sweet treats too.

Have a blessed day.
Carol

Matters of Art

My artistic card-maker friend in Michigan, over the past month, sent a series of origami [folded paper] frogs--two of each, so Chuck and I could conduct frog-jumping contests. One set was Japanese, one Chinese, and one American. They're adorable but don't jump very well. Yesterday's card represented her "first attempt at Folk Art," which she defined as something that "just happened." She made a card-sized quilt! Six scraps of gorgeous fabric that she purchased in the last six weeks and sewed into clothing. That, I think, is the real art of the matter: the time, skill and patience to put those lovely colors and textures together into clothing for her daughter and herself. I've often lamented my lack of artistic ability. Today I'll watch for opportunities to "quilt" ordinary pieces of life into a thing of beauty.

And maybe I'll work on developing an art skill after all. My scholarly friend--the one who encouraged me to try blonde wigs as kemo was making me bald last February--now suggests I should try to express my soul journey in poetry. "But I'm not a poet," I wrote back. "Then try parallelism," he insisted. "It's a form of poetry." Well, I'm pretty left-brained for poetry, I'm afraid, but I like the idea, so I'll try it in my private journal.

Yesterday I sent one Christmas card--to the only serviceman I know who's in Iraq right now. If you know any military people who are on duty away from home, please write to them. And let's all remember to pray for them. Like all wars in our history, this one has stirred up strong opinions. Whatever our opinions, the courageous men and women in uniform need and deserve our appreciation and prayers.

Something's wrong, and I don't know what it is. Yesterday was a fairly successful Saturday, as Saturdays go. Housework, yardwork, a good walk, phone calls with the kids, etc., but something was wrong. I feel somehow out of sync. Falling asleep last night, I came up with only two good things that had happened in the day, and even during the night I couldn't think of a third. I think days like that "just happen" at times, so I'm planning to move on. But I'll be listening to God, through his Word and in church this morning, in case I'm missing something He's been trying to tell me. Maybe I simply need to adjust to the untidiness of "folk art."

Blessings,
Carol

Joy

The decorations are up, the electric luminaries are in place along the driveway, and the wreaths are hung. Sometime next week I’ll take an afternoon off and indulge in one of my favorite Christmas luxuries. I need to tell you the background. During 1983-84, Lisa’s final year of high school, she and I sang in the community chorus under the skillful direction of Charles Smith. Our first performance was in December: Handel’s Messiah. I had sung it yearly all during college, but oh, it was special to sing it with my daughter!

Soon after, she gave me a book with the text of “Messiah” in Timothy Botts’ colorful calligraphy. And then she gave me a set of CDs with the choral masterpiece. So now, once a year, I get very alone and quiet, light the Christmas candles, listen to the inspired music, and follow along with Botts’ artistic visual interpretation. Last year I did it between hearing my cancer diagnosis and going in for surgery. What a bright afternoon it was! “I know that my Redeemer lives.” This year I feel better than I felt then, but my short-term future is as unknown now as it was then. So I’ll sing along in my kemo-cracked voice, and let the divine words restore my soul.

Recently someone sent me the story of Messiah. It’s well known, but I’ll include it here since I’m talking about it anyway.

Seventeen-forty-one was a very depressing year for George Frederick Handel. His latest opera failed. His Italian opera company in London was disbanded. That same year Queen Caroline passed away and the commissions Handel had received for composing music for royal occasions all but dried up. A stroke he had experienced several years prior not only affected him physically but also affected his music. It seemed he had lost the genius that made his music so popular.

Late that year Charles Jennens, a little-known poet, sent Handel a manuscript and asked him to set it to music. When Handel read it, the words gripped him. Suddenly he came alive. Immediately he began to set the words to music. He labored all through that night and much of the following day. In fact, he worked day and night for 22 more days, barely stopping to eat or sleep.

His “Messiah” was performed the following year and was an immediate success.
The words that Jennens compiled, the words that lifted Handel out of the pit of despair, were from Scripture and were about the Savior:
“He was despised and rejected of men. He looked for someone to have pity on him, but there was no man. He trusted in God. God did not leave his soul in hell. I know that my Redeemer lives. Rejoice. Hallelujah!”

Perhaps it was the period of disappointment and despair that prepared Handel in heart and spirit to write this masterpiece. If so, he invested his pain wisely.

---
I've forgotten who sent that, so thanks to the unknown author and sender.

Have a blessed day.
Carol

Stand by Faith

Last evening I set out Christmas decorations throughout the public areas of our home. Of course, I listened to Christmas CDs as I worked. At one point I chose Michael W. Smith’s “Christmas” album, but immediately realized that last year I’d mixed things up and it wasn’t Michael W. Smith in that case. Instead it was Michael Card’s “The Word.” Well, I like Michael Card too, so I left it on. And heard some words that I really needed to be reminded of. In his song, “Who Can Abide?” the chorus says, “If you do not stand by faith you will not stand at all.” That song refers to the future day of the Lord’s return. But I have always felt that this particular sentence applies to every day of our lives. “If you do not stand by faith, you will not stand at all.” No sense in trying. Only “by faith” does life work. That’s always been true, but now that all sorts of vexing developments cause concern about my cancer’s progress, it seems even more critical to “stand by faith.” So my mixed-up CDs brought me precisely the reminder I needed. Later I sorted out the mix-up, and at this moment I’m listening to Michael W. Smith. I hope you know his lovely song, "Welcome to Our World."

I am grateful for your prayers for me. The doctor confirmed that the painful lesion that erupted on my toe three weeks ago was caused by the Doxil (kemo). I’d like that not to happen again. (That one is healing, but left quite a deep crater.) Also my cancer buddy, the guy with lung cancer, had a scan this morning and he and his sweet wife must wait until next Tuesday to get a report. He’s still terribly fatigued, although the lung clots appear to have cleared up. We’re praying that the scan will be clear, and of course we ask that it will show the tumors smaller or gone.

So now that I’ve brought up the topic of Christmas, I think I’ll go ahead and pass along an email someone sent me. It’s an attempt to quiet the anger some Christians express against the secularists who are intent on de-Christianizing Christmas. It contains some good ideas, and I hope you don’t mind that it’s a bit long. (Well, hey, you can quit reading any time, can’t you?!)

A LETTER FROM JESUS

It has come to my attention that many of you are upset that folks are taking My name out of the season. Maybe you've forgotten that I wasn't actually born during this time of the year anyway. Although I do appreciate being remembered any time, if you have children of your own you probably understand how I feel about this. I don't care what you call the day. If you want to make me happy, just get along and love one another. Now having said that, let Me go on.

If it bothers you that the town in which you live doesn't allow a scene depicting My birth, then you could put a small nativity scene on your own front lawn. If all My followers did that there wouldn't be any need for such a scene on the town square because there would be many of them all around town.

Stop worrying about the fact that people are calling the tree a holiday tree, instead of a Christmas tree. It was I who made all trees. You may think of Me any time you see any tree. Decorate a grape vine if you wish. I actually used that to explain who I am in relation to you. If you have forgotten that one, look up John 15:18.

If you want to give Me a present in remembrance of My birth, here is my wish list. Choose something from it.

1. Instead of writing protest letters objecting to the way My birthday is being celebrated, write letters of love and hope to soldiers away from home. They are terribly afraid and lonely this time of year. I know, they tell Me all the time.

2. Visit someone in a nursing home. You don't have to know them personally. They just need to know that someone cares about them.

3. Instead of writing the president to complain about the wording on the cards his staff sent out this year, why don't you write and tell him that you'll be praying for him and his family this year. Then do it.

4. Instead of giving your children a lot of gifts you can't afford and they don't need, spend time with them. Tell them the story of My birth, and why I came to live with you down here. Hold them in your arms and remind them that I love them.

5. Pick someone who has hurt you in the past and forgive him or her.

6. Did you know that someone in your town will attempt to take his own life this season because he feels so alone and hopeless? Since you don't know who that person is, try giving everyone you meet a warm smile. It could make the difference. Also, you might consider supporting the local Hot-Line: they talk with people like that every day.

7. Instead of nit picking about what the retailer in your town calls the holiday, be patient with the people who work there. Give them a warm smile and a kind word. Even if they aren't allowed to wish you a Merry Christmas that doesn't keep you from wishing them one.

8. If you really want to make a difference, support a missionary, especially one who takes My love and good news to people who don’t know Me. You may already know someone like that.

9. There are people in your town who not only will have no "Christmas" tree, they also will have no presents to give or receive. If you don't know them (and I suspect you don't) buy some food and a few gifts and give them to the Salvation Army or some other charity that believes in Me and they will make the delivery for you.

10. Finally, if you want to make a statement about your belief in and loyalty to Me, then behave like a Christian. Don't do things in secret that you wouldn't do in My presence. Let people know by your actions that you are one of mine.

P.S ~ Don't forget; I am God and can take care of Myself. Just love Me and do what I have told you to do. I'll take care of all the rest. Have a blessed Christmas with all those you love, and remember - I LOVE YOU.

----
I don’t know who wrote it, but it’s a peaceable approach. Peace to you!

Carol