Tired, Hungry, and Treeless
The Lord answered her, “Martha, Martha! You are worried and troubled over so many things, but just one is needed. Mary has chosen the right thing, and it will not be taken away from her.” Luke 10: 41-42
Many years while the kids were in their busy years we had a hard time squeezing in even two hours to go find a Christmas tree. We were old fashioned enough that we wanted it to be a family outing and the tree had to be real. One year the calendar looked so full we literally had to make an appointment and put it on the calendar.
Then Stuart’s company started working overtime. The date arrived and I was in town with our daughters doing late errands and of course this was long before cell phones. We felt high tech to just have an answering machine, with a nifty time stamp. I called at 4:41 p.m., trying to catch Stuart, just in case he had gotten off earlier, and talked to a vacant house. Here’s how the rest of that day went:
4:49 p.m.: Stuart called home, trying to tell us to meet him at the tree place.
4:51: We walked in the door, checked the machine, and found 2 messages from 2 frustrated parents.
5:00: Stuart arrived home and we quickly decided to go anyway, even though Stuart reported that in passing the tree place, it looked like they only had 3 trees left.
It turned out there was only one salable tree; no one liked it. We sped across the county to another cheap place. Darkness was falling fast. They were closed. We went to another grocery store where they sold trees. Those were $14 to $20 for woebegone leftovers (1990s prices). By now we were irritated at each other for being so choosy.
6:00: We were tired, cold, hungry and treeless. It made me think of that Bethlehem traveler and her husband 2000 years earlier who was pregnant, tired and bedless. We headed home. I decided to throw together a pancake and egg supper only to discover I only had half a cup of pancake mix. So I decided to make them from scratch, which took one of the eggs. So I was down to three eggs for 5 people. Oh well, one daughter never wants an egg and I would get by.
6:30: Supper served. Everyone wanted an egg. All pancakes, batter, eggs and a few leftover ham pieces were devoured. I always have leftover pancakes and batter. I exclaimed, “What is going on here?”
Tanya observed pointedly, “Well, did you notice how late it is?” Michelle added, “These homemade pancakes are extra good.”
And suddenly even though some of us were still hungry and we were still treeless, none of it mattered. We were warm, safe, together, and knew the tree would eventually be found. And Christmas would still come to the Davises.
When we are worried and distracted by too much to do, remember the words of Jesus to “choose the better things.”
Do you have an almost-disaster-finding-the-tree story to share?
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My photos each day in this Advent series feature figures from a handmade advent calendar I picked up long ago at a yard sale. It quickly became the kids’ favorite, and a permanent addition to our Advent collection and celebrations. I hope you enjoy watching the parade of characters on this virtual advent calendar. Here is the calendar after one week of adding characters, props, and scenery!
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This story was first published in my regular syndicated weekly newspaper column, Another Way, see www.thirdway.com/aw (which can be used in any local paper; email me for details).
We’ve already had the best Christmas presents ever, the best Thanksgiving. As noted here, our first grandchild was born in late September. A great and welcome gift!
Then on November 26, two days before Thanksgiving, our oldest daughter called about 12:30 a.m. She had finally gone into labor about 7:45 the night before, a day after her due date. They were at the hospital two and a half hours away from us. Did I want to come and labor with them?
Did I? Oh my! We had talked about it earlier briefly, but they had never said definitively that they would like that. I had been unfortunately out of town when grandson Sam finally arrived. Who knew if I would ever have another chance to witness a birth?
Sure! They were still in the early stages of labor, I likely had plenty of time to get there. Sleep was gone at that point anyway, so I got up and started packing, taking care of last minute things for the office via e-mail, finishing cleaning for the rest of my family who would arrive later that day for the Thanksgiving holiday, staying calm, and tendering my excitement. I packed my husband’s lunch and headed off into the night about 3:30 a.m.
Arriving at the semi-suburban/urban hospital near dawn, the adrenaline kicked up a notch. Walking the halls following the “Labor and Delivery” signs, seeing women large with child pacing the hall, spying an isolette crib or two: I was ecstatic. I had loved the whole birth experience when we had our three daughters and I felt a rush to be back amid the charged atmosphere.
But my daughter’s labor was progressing at a snail’s pace—not even a snail. (Does a snail slow down, go backwards?) At first she tolerated most contractions just with deep breathing, then pain got stiffer. Things started hurting. Three to four hours went by. My son-in-law and I alternated lunch times. I read, got on their laptop, made phone calls, answered phone calls. No news yet?
The doctor measured progress. Only one more centimeter gained. Some sixteen hours of labor and only one more centimeter than when she got to the hospital. Although she had not planned or wanted an epidural, she finally asked for one. The intensity of pain eased up. She was able to rest up. Her husband got a much needed nap. I paced and checked the contraction monitor. Through it all the baby’s heartbeat was robust; there did not appear to be any reason to be concerned about how he was handling it. He was fine. Just taking his time. Within a couple more hours, she was fully dilated.
By 6:15 p.m., the splendid nurses working with us suggested my daughter try pushing. And so it began, the real labor where we were all needed. After learning how to really give pushing all she had, we held legs, helped support her from the back through three long pushes for each contraction while the nurse counted slow … ly to ten. I found myself involuntarily pushing just as hard with my own abdominal muscles.
As a mother, you do all you can to help your child but this was one thing my daughter truly had to do herself. After each push, she rested. I fetched ice chips, applied Chapstick. Husband put cold compresses on her sweaty forehead. The nurse kept a positive chatter going, but there really wasn’t much progress. Contractions slowed to six minutes a part. A small amount of Picotin was added to pick up the pace of contractions. Real progress still evaded us.
By 9:30 p.m. or so, the doctor began discussing options. A C-section wasn’t needed, the baby seemed fine. But he had to have help getting out. They could use suction, a hand pumped device by a skillful doctor with a small suction cup applied to the head. Oh my! Decisions had to be made quickly. Was there a chance of skull or brain damage? Not on this doctor’s watch, ever, but he admitted that yes, it did happen.
Making a rapid decision in pain and stress and after laboring over 24 hours and knowing the baby has to somehow come out, you make the best decision you can. My son-in-law knew his wife was nearing exhaustion, beyond frustration. He didn’t want anything to happen to her, either. They gave the go ahead. The nurse said a team from the emergency room or operating room would come in to accompany and check the baby over immediately after birth. It was routine, they always did this when a suction cup was used. That was reassuring but also alarming: what if?
Then in a rush the baby’s head finally, gloriously appeared. I got my first glimpse of this new grandson. “His name is James,” my son-in-law announced. I practically crowed! Good name! Short, easy to say! I probably would have said the same thing if he had been named Thantatheopulis. The fancied up digital scales officially weighed him in at 8 lb 6 oz.
I looked over the almost-plumped-up squirming child, squalling at first, heartily, slightly blue, then rapidly getting pink as he got more air. His little eyes peered all around, checking out this new world! He was taken to the warming table, wiped off. I followed watching the process while the obstetrician sewed up my daughter on the other side of the room. “He has beautiful lips! His hair is a light brown like yours! He looks great, perfect,” I reassured them.
I was crazy grandma gone wild. The top of his head looked a mess, but they hadn’t wiped it off yet. I left the room a good long while to make some calls. I knew the baby and parents needed alone time, bonding time. I sat in the refreshment kitchen breathing my thankfulness to God and the blessed doctors and nurses who had been so helpful and kind and seemed just as charged by the excitement, even though they did this many many times a day. I hoped James would be all right. Surely they would have whisked him off to neonatal intensive care or somewhere if there had been any indication of problem or issue.
When I went back into the room, baby James was lying on my daughter’s chest, skin to skin which is so lovely and important. At that point his eyes had stopped roving all around the room. His ear was pinned to her chest, heart beating on heart. It was so obvious he was tuned into that heart beating just like he had heard for nine months in the womb. This was a sound he knew. This was home.
Waiting to be discharged on Thanksgiving Day.
Welcome baby James.
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My daughter wrote about “being second” to have a baby in our family earlier this year in a guest column for Another Way.
Unscripted Moments: The Little Shepherd Boy
The shepherds said to one another, “Let us go now to Bethlehem and see this thing that has taken place, which the Lord has made known to us.” So they went with haste and found Mary and Joseph, and the child lying in the manger. Luke 2: 15-16
The little shepherd boy had refused to take a nap that day, his mother told me later. His father, a drama teacher at a local middle school, was the main character at our church’s Christmas Eve service. Three-year-old Andrew was the little shepherd boy.
But about half way through the drama, Andrew’s eyelids began to droop. The father, well versed in ad-libbing, said, “You must be getting tired. Sit on my lap and I’ll finish the story.”
Andrew climbed into his shepherd-dad’s lap and the drama went on. But his head began to nod and then jerk awake. I thought, “This little boy really is a great actor because he sure looks believable.”
By this time most everyone in the front of the church had caught on that yes, Andrew was really and truly falling asleep on stage, and there wasn’t a thing anyone could do. There were titters and finally even dad broke character and suppressed a chuckle. Afterwards, people said that if there were any little shepherd boys really out helping watch the sheep on that big night, they very well might have fallen asleep.
It was the highlight of the whole Christmas Eve service. Somehow it is always the unplanned, unscripted moments that bring serendipity. Maybe it is how God breaks through to us when we have a set idea of how things should go, of how we should live our lives.
I’m sure Mary was not thrilled with her unplanned moments, either, when Gabriel announced her pregnancy. She must have been mortified. But, after a few awkward moments, she responded, “I am the Lord’s servant. Let it happen as you have said.”
Prayer: Lord, I pray that I will be open to all that you have in store for me this season. Let it happen to me as you will. Amen.
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Comment: What is your favorite unscripted moment from a Christmas play or pageant or other program?
Find out more about the wonderful little church family where this occurred here.
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My photos each day in this Advent series feature figures from a handmade advent calendar I picked up long ago at a yard sale. It quickly became the kids’ favorite, and a permanent addition to our Advent collection and celebrations. I hope you enjoy watching the parade of characters on this virtual advent calendar.
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This story was first published in my regular syndicated weekly newspaper column, Another Way, see www.thirdway.com/aw (which can be used in any local paper; email me for details).
Tropical Palm
What to Do When There are Too Many Places to Go
There were so many people coming and going that Jesus and his disciples didn’t even have time to eat. So he said to them, “Let us go off by ourselves to some place where we will be alone and you can rest a while.” Mark 6:31
Christmas and children go together, but once they get to age five and up you can run yourself ragged keeping up with their special events and activities during the early days of December. I well remember when our children were spaced out in elementary, middle and high school, and we had choir and band programs for all three schools, Christmas parades and tree lighting ceremonies, as well as individual music recitals. The going was constant.
One year I even drove 100 miles each way to help my daughter and her cohorts get from their drama festival competition to tryouts for district choir all before 8 a.m. I was telling that story to my hairdresser when another hairdresser talked about rushing from one ballgame to the next, taking in only parts of each in order to put in a little appearance as needed.
We all do (or have done) these things, but maybe it is okay to say, “I don’t have to go to everything you are in. I will come to so many games or recitals, but there are things I need to do, too.” (The kids may not care as much as you think, and they’ll get used to it.)
There is probably no better time of year to hear this message then December. Sure, you want to be there for your kids. You want to see when they sing, play, dance, or score that goal. There will be things you will miss. But it won’t be the end of the world, as long as you and they know that you love and support them. Don’t feel guilty about not going to everything that is on the calendar.
During these Advent days of waiting and watching for Christmas, take some time to just let something go. Cancel a committee meeting, or take off from work early. Grab some time to just relax, unwind, and enjoy Christmas. Take some time just to be, for inner harmony. Find a palm tree (figuratively, in the North) and breath deeply.
As Doris Janzen Longacre wrote as she was dying of cancer at the age of 39, “Life is too short to worry about getting ready for Christmas. Just let Christmas come.”
How do you deal with an overloaded schedule in December?
What have you skipped? Any memorable stories?
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The photos each day in this Advent series feature figures from a handmade advent calendar I picked up long ago at a yard sale. It quickly became the kids’ favorite, and a permanent addition to our Advent collection and celebrations. I hope you enjoy watching the parade of characters on this virtual advent calendar. Next week I’ll add a picture of the actual calendar so you can see how this thing comes together. Sign up to follow the blog so you don’t miss any!
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Parts of this reflection first appeared as an editorial in the magazine Living, which I serve as editor.
Huzzah! A King is Born
In the time of King Herod, after Jesus was born in Bethlehem of Judea, wise men from the East came to Jerusalem, asking, “Where is the child who has been born king of the Jews? For we observed his star at its rising, and have come to pay him homage.” Matthew 2: 1-2
Ever since our daughter, as a freshman at the College of William and Mary in Colonial Williamsburg, Va., first experienced the “Grand Illumination” (first weekend in December every year) she wanted us to come. (For more details on the celebrations and great photos, visit this blogger.)
Her senior year, we finally went. The village was indeed enchanting: costumed workers from Colonial Williamsburg lit bright pitch pine fires in iron bowls on poles known as “cressets.” The cressets once served as the town’s only streetlights. Smoke curled up in the night air. It was easy to imagine Thomas Jefferson or Patrick Henry scuttling off to some meeting or tavern.
From the stage near the location where we were standing, the master of ceremonies explained that the idea of a Grand Illumination came from long ago times when a king would have a fireworks display at the birth of a new king. It was a way for ordinary working people to celebrate extraordinary events. The master of ceremonies added, “And this is a Grand Illumination for the birthday of the King of Kings!”—an unmistakable reference to the birthday of Jesus. It was a holy moment of harmony, finding the sacred on the town square.
I quickly glanced around me. This was your typical secular crowd of townspeople, tourists, college students. 30 to 50,000 were celebrating the birth of Jesus. I batted back a tear: Yes, happy birthday, King of Kings! I’m told that sometimes the crowd is coaxed into yelling “Huzzah!” which in colonial times was a way of saying “Hooray!”
Sometimes we wonder if it appropriate to still keep Christmas as a Christian holiday. Each family can decide how to handle Santa, but make sure children know it all started with baby Jesus.
Huzzah!
Prayer: I pray that I will keep my adoration and focus on you, King of Kings! Hooray!
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Have you ever suddenly became aware of the sacred within the secular, at Christmas or any other time? Have you had a goose bump moment at Christmas?
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My photos each day in this Advent series feature figures from a handmade advent calendar I picked up long ago at a yard sale. It quickly became the kids’ favorite, and a permanent addition to our Advent collection and celebrations. I hope you enjoy watching the parade of characters on this virtual advent calendar.
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This story was first published in my regular syndicated weekly newspaper column, Another Way, see www.thirdway.com/aw (which can be used in any local paper; email me for details).
The chicken at the manger
A Not-So-Perfect Family
But Mary kept all these things, and pondered them in her heart. Luke 2:19 KJV
(For the complete story, use Bible Gateway.)
You don’t get a lot of Christmas cards featuring chickens, but pretend you are the “chicken on the roost”* in the cave getting a glimpse of a young woman and a man who enter. They look kind of stressed and the woman very very “with child,” likely moaning.
Back story, which we thread together from scripture. Mary is pregnant and unmarried. Think her parents were happy? Good Joseph stays engaged to her anyway, surely under the scorn of his family and friends. Then they have to travel when she is almost due, on a donkey, to take care of … taxes. Oh joy. Most of us today would have complained plenty. The “Holy” couple” gets to Bethlehem, and there is no motel. Anywhere. I’m sure Mary knows it is not Joe’s fault but if she is human she’s gotta be gritting through her teeth “Why did he make me come anyway?”
They find a stable, likely in a cave. Again, Mary may be from a different century, but she has lived in a home, not with the cows. That surely had to be more stress. Then Jesus is born. But the stress is hardly over. Too soon there is the late night trip to Egypt, to escape a King who wants to kill their baby, and succeeds in killing other parents’ little boy babies. This knowledge had to have been a very bitter pill to swallow too. Since we know how the story turns out, we know that eventually Jesus dies the death of a political criminal on a wooden cross. My mother’s heart breaks with Mary’s.
The birth of Jesus is not all sweetness and light. We are not alone in the agony and suffering we go through in this life. Mary and Joseph have been there. Jesus has been there. God is there, with us, no matter what happens.
Can it be? In our messy, imperfect families? In families rocked by an unwanted pregnancy, and differing opinions on how to respond?
A video you may have seen, but bears repeating at this time of year, brings Mary and “Joe’s” dilemma home:
I hope these reflections help bring deep peace this holiday season, even if it is not Christmas-card perfect.
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Although not pleasant to recall, when was a time you or your family experienced sadness, loneliness, or difficulty at Christmas? How does that experience speak to you this Advent season?
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Parts of this reflection first appeared as an editorial in the magazine Living, which I serve as editor. The Winter 2013 edition has just been published with the story of one family’s worst possible pain which happened last Christmas. You can find it here.
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* My photos each day in this Advent series feature figures from a handmade advent calendar I picked up long ago at a yard sale. It quickly became the kids’ favorite, and a permanent addition to our Advent collection and celebrations. I hope you enjoy watching the parade of characters on this virtual advent calendar.
Joseph
When a fight almost broke out at church
For many years at our church, in addition to lighting the Advent wreath each Sunday, the children put up Velcro-backed animals and characters on a special Advent banner depicting the nativity, with different characters added each Sunday during Advent.
But one day a fight almost broke out between two brothers. “I WANT TO PUT ONE UP TOO!” wailed Paul loudly.
“There aren’t any more figures to put up today,” the young college girl doing the children’s time tried to reason with Paul. Older brother Alex quickly indicated to Paul that he could share the job of putting up the coveted Joseph figure. Alex lifted his little brother up to reach the banner. The adults all breathed audible sighs of relief—almost an awww moment.
Such are the sweet little disasters of Christmas, when everyone holds their breath and then somehow everything turns out okay and you know you’ve just witnessed something precious.
It is at home where the real wars break out over who gets to light the candle, or who gets to strike the match.
Why bother? Why keep Advent in families? Because it is one way to hold, even if just for a season, family worship or a quiet period of reading, singing and reflection in the home. It is a way to help keep kids’ minds off of Santa Claus and gift lists, and back on the original reason for Christmas. It is a way to help children hear familiar Bible stories year after year, today highlighting the courageously quiet way Joesph responded to Mary’s news:
Now the birth of Jesus the Messiah took place in this way. When his mother Mary had been engaged to Joseph, but before they lived together, she was found to be with child from the Holy Spirit. Her husband Joseph, being a righteous man and unwilling to expose her to public disgrace, planned to dismiss her quietly. But just when he had resolved to do this, an angel of the Lord appeared to him in a dream and said, “Joseph, son of David, do not be afraid to take Mary as your wife, for the child conceived in her is from the Holy Spirit. She will bear a son, and you are to name him Jesus, for he will save his people from their sins.” Matthew 1: 18-21
We’ll look more at Joseph’s difficult dilemma tomorrow.
Keeping Advent traditions is a way of holding holy moments in your household, whether it is just you, or you and your spouse, or a passel of not-so-holy munchkins.
How do you keep Advent in your home?
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My photos each day in this Advent series feature figures from a handmade advent calendar I picked up long ago at a yard sale. It quickly became the kids’ favorite, and a permanent addition to our Advent collection and celebrations. I hope you enjoy watching the parade of characters on this virtual advent calendar.
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This story was first published in my regular syndicated weekly newspaper column, Another Way, see www.thirdway.com/aw (which can be used in any local paper, email me for details).
The angel Gabriel
Finding Harmony between divine and human
In the sixth month the angel Gabriel was sent by God to a town in Galilee called Nazareth, to a virgin engaged to a man whose name was Joseph, of the house of David. The virgin’s name was Mary. And he came to her and said, “Greetings, favored one! The Lord is with you.”But she was much perplexed by his words and pondered what sort of greeting this might be. The angel said to her, “Do not be afraid, Mary, for you have found favor with God. And now, you will conceive in your womb and bear a son, and you will name him Jesus. (Luke 1: 26-31)
The birth of a baby is commonplace.
Four babies (around the world) are born every second of the day (according to Yahoo Answers). 15,000 every hour. 360,000 every day. In the hospital where my newest grandson was born, there were 500 babies born last month, a dozen or so the day he was born.
The safe arrival of a new baby—from the womb to the world—is an event marked with flowers and calls and texts and posts on Facebook and birth certificates and DNA samples and newspaper notices.
Yet the birth of a baby is a miracle, too.
The odds of each particular baby—sperm uniting successfully with egg and growing 40 weeks to full term, surviving delivery, and belting out that welcome borning cry—makes each little baby a true miracle.
The announcement delivered by the angel Gabriel that Mary would have a baby boy (no sonogram needed here to find out the gender ahead of time) was in a class by itself: a human infant, a divine child.
The truly profound takeaway is that every child has a touch of the divine: we are created in the image of God. We are God’s children (whether or not we recognize or claim it or act like it). We can even become like Jesus: “little Christs” is one way to interpret the name “Christian” given to followers of Jesus (first mentioned by C.S. Lewis?).
We’ll encounter these divine messengers again towards the end of Advent, but for today, what message is God (through Gabriel or another messenger) speaking to you?
Perhaps that you, too, are a miracle, placed on earth for a divine reason? Can we see our children or other loved ones that way?
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For a lot of us, the angel Gabriel will forever be etched in our minds played by the late Lee Eshleman in “DoveTale.” Gabriel’s announcement can be viewed here.
The DVD is available from Ted & Company here.
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My photos each day in this series feature figures from a handmade advent calendar I picked up long ago at a yard sale. It quickly became the kids’ favorite, and a permanent addition to our Advent collection and celebrations. I hope you enjoy watching the parade of characters on this virtual advent calendar.
Mary, mother of Jesus
Looking for the harmony: take the plunge
Despite this being the most wonderful and magical season of the year leading up to December 25, everyone knows days can end up filled with friction and frustration. We end up frazzled and wanting the preparations to be over. Especially as adults who sometimes get carried away trying to make sure everything is just right for children and family, we overdo, overspend, and of course, eat too much.
Beginning Sunday Dec. 1 and for 22 days in Advent (I’ll take Saturdays off and you can too), I invite you to set aside five or ten minutes for quiet and calm anticipation by lighting a candle (on your advent wreath or any old candle) and waiting, with Mary, for the birth of the Christ child. As my pastor says, even five or ten minutes can bring some tranquility to the rest of your day and allow you to focus on the things that last.
The stories I’ll share from the raucous days of raising three children, mixed in with tales from church family and friends, will remind you (I hope) that you can find harmony even walking through difficult or even sad circumstances. So we look for the harmony: some days we find it, and some days despite best plans, we end up disappointed and looking to tomorrow.
Most days the meditations will be quite brief and include a scripture and suggested prayer. So take the plunge: sign up to follow my blog so you can get them straight to your email as a reminder, and share your favorites with friends. I hope you’ll respond with any thoughts, reflections, or stories the mediations bring to mind for you. And one of these days soon I’ll tell our very own story of our second grandbaby born two days before Thanksgiving this year (and just two months after the first grandbaby,) which brings extra joy and poignancy during this season of waiting for a special baby. (Which also explains my mini blog vacation for the last week.)
Along these lines, for today’s very brief meditation, I like the words of Elizabeth O’Connor, one of the well known writers and longtime members of Church of the Savior, Washington, D.C., upon whose principles our local congregation was founded. Elizabeth writes:
“It is not what happens to us in any day that gives content to our lives, but whether or not we let its experience sink into us. ” — (Cry Pain, Cry Hope, Servant Leadership School, 1993, p. 33)
The first Psalm puts the above thought this way (one of my dad’s favorite passages and I can hear him reciting it now): “Their delight is in the law of the Lord, and on God’s law they meditate day and night. They are like trees planted by streams of water, which yield their fruit in its season, and their leaves do not wither.” (Psalm 1:1-3)
Like Mary, plan to spend time this December reflecting on life and truths deeper than the latest advertising jingle. We’ll have much more on Mary in the days to come.
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Some background facts on Advent if you are not very familiar:
Length and timing. The beginning of Advent is determined by St. Andrew’s Day, which falls on November 30. Advent begins the nearest Sunday to November 30.
Advent didn’t become a part of the church’s calendar until after the Festival of Christmas itself had been established, around A.D. 336.
Originally Advent was 40 days long, like Lent, representing the 4000 years of patient waiting by the Hebrews for the Messiah. In some religious groups it is observed as a time of prayer and fasting–like Lent. Many families and individuals reserve daily time to gather in front of a wreath and candles known as the “Advent Wreath,” for a meditation, song, or prayer. Some use purple candles to represent royalty, with a pink candle as the “Mary” candle representing joy. Sometimes the argument is over which candle gets lighted next (my daughters shook their heads in dismay at church many Sundays when someone lit the “wrong” candle. Very worshipful family harmony those days!) But I see we’re not the only one with these debates, and what to call the different candles.
What color the candles? A few years ago my denomination, Presbyterian Church USA went to using blue representing royalty. Of course purple represents royalty too, and it all depends on what kind of berries were available long ago in a king’s country for making various dyes. I love David Hansen’s blog post on this topic, here.
I know in many Mennonite churches (the two denominations I am most familiar with) use red candles, just representing traditional Christmas colors I guess. Since we were first introduced to the purple and pink when our children were small, that’s what we like to stick with.
When to start singing carols? The other new thing for me when I first became part of a Presbyterian church was getting used to not singing carols until Christmas Eve, or at least the last Sunday before Christmas or when we went caroling. In light of the fact that Advent is supposed to be a time of deprivation or fasting, some groups sing only the more somber, minor “carols of waiting” like “O Come, O Come Immanuel” and “Lo How a Rose Er Blooming.”
I chuckled when I read a pastor’s story about his church group on a weekend retreat during December. They were in the mood to sing Christmas carols so sing they did: carol after carol, enjoying the camaraderie and memories the carols stirred. But this minister said he felt “naughty” singing joyful carols during the mournful time of Advent. I thought, only a minister could feel naughty singing a Christmas carol!
Deeper theological meaning? Advent also refers to the “second advent:” the belief in Jesus’ second time of appearing. Christians have been waiting for that “advent” a long time, too. Thus, the season is a profoundly spiritual time—if we set aside time to soak it in, and not just go through the motions.
Family customs? One more thing: the photos each day feature figures from a handmade advent calendar I picked up long ago at the annual Belmont Community Yard Sale famous in these parts for quality merchandise. It quickly became the kid’s favorite, and a permanent addition to our Advent collection and celebrations. I hope you enjoy watching the parade of characters on this virtual advent calendar. These traditions become a kind of glue for families.
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For my regular syndicated weekly newspaper column, Another Way, see www.thirdway.com/aw (which can be used in any local paper, email me for details).
“I’m 89 and I’m still da-ting,” Mom says in a production of “Memories Radio” put on by the Curtain Raisers, a group of senior citizens who are obviously enjoying themselves at Greencroft Retirement Community. Her sing-songy lilt and coy smile is just perfect and the line brings a nice laugh and applause.
When I visited Mom in late September, she was working on assembling her costume for the production. The women had decided to dress up as if they were members of the Red Hat Society, and mom had borrowed a beautiful dark purple gauzy dress, hat, wig, and was still hunting for clamp style dangly earrings. So she cavorted a bit for me in her wig, showing how they were supposed to sashay like models as they entered the stage.
Neither of us have ever had pierced ears but she wanted earrings to complete her look as a pitch woman for a “Mortuary” in one of the segments. Getting all gussied up is half the fun of Halloween or any campy production, right?
Mom has always enjoyed performing in skits and even being asked to read the scripture for church. She’ll practice and make sure she enunciates slowly, clearly and loudly—one of her biggest frustrations is when speakers don’t get close to microphones and she and many others with hearing loss are left guessing at what’s going on. She uses hearing aids and assisted hearing devices at church but they don’t help if people don’t talk into the mic.
Years ago she and other women of her church fellowship (not the church she goes to now) put on some kind of skit for a talent show or fun evening. Mom recalls being handed a gospel tract later from one of the older women that implied the group had gone overboard–that the skit was maybe “too silly” for a church women’s get together.
Silly, yes! That is the point. This production by the Curtain Raisers consisted of a series of readings related to the woes of getting older: older people essentially making good fun of themselves.
The performers worked hard, getting lines right (this was “radio,” right, so thankfully they didn’t have to memorize their scripts,) and adding flourishes and meaningful looks to add to the effect.
The show was a combination of jokes, things your parents used to say, church bulletin bloopers, and old sayings that could be taken two ways: “My mother taught me hypocrisy. ‘If I told you once, I’ve told you a million times: Don’t exaggerate!’” And, “My mother taught me about roots: ‘Do you think you were born in a barn?’” A woman dubbed “Miles to go Mabel” did a review of things younger folks don’t remember like living in a “time before television, frozen foods, and panty hose.”
The women, dubbed “The Swinging Senile Sisters” sang a new version of “My Favorite Things,” recalling favorites like false teeth and hearing aids. No, senility is not funny, and I’m guessing that most if not all of the performers have experienced loved ones with this issue. Sometimes the only thing that helps you survive is being able to laugh.
Mom had to read an obituary for the “Pillsbury Dough Boy” who died of a yeast infection and complications of being punched too often in the belly.” She added things like pushing up her partial as she delivered lines like “He was a man who never knew how much he was kneaded and was kind of flakey.
The week of production was pretty exhausting, with dress rehearsals for the hour show and then two performances, one at 3 p.m. on a Tuesday afternoon, the second at 6 p.m. on Thursday evening, the better to accommodate friends, family, and fellow senior citizens. As one of the oldest members of the cast, Mom rested up on Wednesday and didn’t try to do much or go anywhere, saving energy for Thursday.
The show was such a success they were asked to do an encore performance in November for social work and nursing students at nearby Goshen College studying gerontology and aging. The students did a talkback with the actors after the performance and Mother was pleased to hear questions and comments reflecting how the college students were impressed that “you could be older and still actively do fun stuff” –perhaps a revelation for those kids.
And Mom wanted to clarify something for the students. At one point in the conversation Mom spoke up and said, “I am 89 but I’m not dating,” which earned her another laugh.
And that’s what its all about, right? Laughter, living, enjoying oneself, being stretched, maybe even doing something at 89 you’ve never really done—working with a director and even having the show videotaped (which is how I got to see the show).
After the show, the actors were mostly drained and just glad it was over, but after recouping their energies, they are looking forward to working on a new show in the new year. Someone even suggested they call themselves the Comedy Club, and invited them for another encore. Life is more fun when you have things to look forward to.
Maybe someday soon you’ll see them on YouTube.
This is mom with her normal beautiful white head of hair, talking with my sister, Pert.
With a big thank you to my sister Nancy and her son Larry who were able to attend the production and take these lovely photos.
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