Christmas Eve

In our home, words are often many and sometimes too few, but music speaks most glorious.  As I listened to Christmas songs, I remembered some others.  I share them because they express themes God has planted in my heart.

Thought number one:  I am the greatest sinner and God loves me anyway.
Thought number two:  He is worthy to be praised, loved and worshiped.

Merry Christmas

The Proof is in the - Promise

I love food.  I love eating it, cooking it, and even reading about it.  My grandmother, Mama Julia, loved cooking too.  My grandparents visited us from Florida every summer when I was young and Mama Julia always took charge of the cooking when in our home.  She gave my mother a deserved break.

I remember one warm day helping her prepare a picnic lunch to take to the beach.  When the blankets, towels and food basket were ready and everyone was getting into the car I noticed Mama Julia was not going.
     "Are you going to the beach," I asked?
     "No mijita, (little daughter), everyone will be very hungry when they get back from the beach so I am going to get their supper ready."  I did't know what to do, I loved cooking with my grandmother, but I loved the beach.
     "Mama, I will stay with you and help you cook," I said.
     "Sure, mamita, you can stay with me."

We spent what seemed like hours cooking together that day.  Using my nick name she said,
     "Look, Judy, when you make the beans you must always saute the onion and pepper first. Never add it in afterwards."  Or when stirring the natilla was tiresome, she said,
     "Lets take turns, I'll stir it for five minutes and you stir it for two."  Mama Julia was always teaching me about food.  She told me that if you know what is put into the pot you don't even have to taste it to know if will be good. She disagreed with the old adage the proof is in the pudding.  For her the proof was in the pot.

Through the years I have experimented with recipes. I read cookbooks like literature.  And even though, Mama Julia never used a cookbook, her sentiment that it is what goes into the pot that determines whether it will be a good dish or not, is true.  After years of reading cookbooks, I don't have to actually make a recipe to know if it will be delicious. God has enabled me to read and know what it will taste like.

Once again that principle was brought to my view.  As I claimed a promise today, I remembered, I dont have to taste the results to know that the Lord's answer will yield good fruit.  It is the love and power He has put into the promise that determines the result.

And so with hope and gratitude I claim His promise:
 
"Thus saith the Lord God, Behold I will lift up mine hand to the Gentiles, and set up My standard to the people: and they shall bring thy sons in their arms and thy daughters shall be carried upon their shoulders...and thou shalt know that I am the Lord: for they shall not be ashamed that wait for Me...thus saith the Lord, Even the captives of the mighty shall be taken away, and the prey of the terrible shall be delivered: for I will contend with him that contendeth with thee, and I will save thy children...I the Lord am thy Savior and thy Redeemer, the mighty One of Jacob." Isaiah 49:22 -26

Something Old, Something New...

Something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue.  Traditions give substance to things already weighted with meaning.

Nana came from China a few months ago to marry my nephew.  For two years they worked in the same Chinese company and grew to know and love each other.  She wanted a completely 100% American style wedding.  At my nephew's request my sister worked to create the event.  Nana had all the American trappings, the perfect white dress, the graceful veil, and tulle covered architecture. Towards the end of the meal the guests began instructing her on the next order of traditional American wedding business; the cutting of the cake.  She sat there smiling while listening as her new family explained that in feeding Christopher the morsel she should be sure to ply some on his face.

When the moment came they cut the cake and tenderly fed each other, then the people encouraged her, "Go ahead Nana, it's ok, you can put some of the cake on his face."  She looked at the head of the family who had just said that and said, "I can't, I love him."  Harmonic sighs filtered through the room.  She had broken the typical American tradition out of love for Chris.  If she had not done it before, she won everyone's heart right then.  It's no wonder, because it is easy to love those that love your loved ones.

Later, I thought about Nana facing the pressure of American tradition and longing to please her new family. In choosing against the crowd she showed her love for Chris. That reminded me of Jesus, the lover of my soul.  He who went against all traditions and expectations to save me. I pray to have even the small courage that Nana had and reject sin's cajoling; saying, "I can't, I love Him."  I will always remember the lesson Nana taught me: it is in choosing against the crowd that we show our love for Christ.

First Time

Firsts are monumental.  First steps, the first day of school, the first glance of love; they are all held in our memories wrapped in a certain glow.  It is the misty light of nostalgia, innocence and joy.  After many years without one, I had a first this week.  When it came I stood and smiled and did not know what to say.  There was no experience to call on, no point of reference to know how to respond.  So I just smiled and kept smiling until the pause became awkward.

The check out girl priced my groceries and when she was done she said, "Ma'am, would you like to use your senior discount card today?"  As I said there were smiles and awkward silences.  "No, not today," I finally said.  "Soon, but not yet."  The first thing I did  when I got into my car was look in the mirror  Do I really look that old? Is it my hair, my clothing or my face that prompted that question?  The eyes that looked at me from the 2x5 inch mirror were just as brown as when I finished high school.  As I drove home the appraisal continued.  Yes, life has left its wrinkles, lines and scars, but inside I feel the same.  No, that is not true.  I don't feel the same.  Actually, I feel better!

When I was young, I thought as a child, I loved as a child, and I hardly knew God.  But finally, now that I am old many of my childish ways have been put away.  Today my Father owns more of my heart than ever before.  He has renewed my strength and inside this weathered body I am soaring in the wake of His love.  In the parts that count, the parts that will go to heaven and live eternally, I am younger than ever before.  I am not growing old, I am growing young.  I am growing toward Jesus and He is eternal youth and life.  So I thank the Lord for this first, because now I know what He means when He promises to "satisfy me...so that my youth is renewed like the eagle's." (Psalm 103:5)