It Came Upon the Midnight Clear

I find it unusual that the words of this often favorite Christmas Song, written in 1858 by Edmund Hamilton Sears, still hold true today.  I also find it interesting that the song does not mention anything about the birth of Christ...only an Angelic request for peace on earth.

Today, when so many people want to remove ‘Merry Christmas” from the Christmas season and replace it with “Happy Holidays”, a rather generic catch phrase, I find it troubling at the very least.  Christ is what Christmas is all about…not a non-descript generic holiday greeting that could refer to any holiday.

It seems to me that if the world would “lay in solemn stillness” they just might begin to hear the voice of God or at the very least begin to sense his presence.  The second verse of this song speaks of peaceful wings unfurled and the heavenly music floats all o’er the weary world.  It doesn’t take much to realize just how weary our world is today.  I’ve been weary about events in my own little world.  But, I’ve also experienced the peace the Angels sing about.  Oh what would the world be like if everyone heard the angels sing on high…Peace on Earth, goodwill to men!  Understanding that this request comes from heavens all gracious King, and delivered by his messengers, the angels, it seems to me that everyone would want to say “Merry Christmas” with a renewed spirit.

There is a stanza from this song that is usually omitted from most hymnals…but one that is so fitting for today’s weary world.

            Yet with the woes of sin and strife|The world hath suffered Long|

            Beneath the angel-strain have rolled|Two thousand years of wrong|

            And men, at war with man, hears not|The love song which they bring|

            Oh hush the noise, ye men of strife,|And hear the angels sing!

Christmas is a time of Peace…the words “Merry Christmas” speak about what all men should instinctively know but oh so often fail to see.  When the Angels speak of Peace on Earth…it is a Peace that surpasses all understanding.

One day all strife will end for all believers.  We will all hear the Angels sing…and I’ll bet we’ll join in praising our Father who sent his son on that first ‘Merry Christmas’…a son whose mission was to bring peace to all.  Until his return, lets continue to speak those two simple words...not just as words, but from our hearts about a Peace on Earth that is to come…and someday…everyone will hear the angels sing on another midnight clear.

These Hands, These Feet

These precious hands.  What do you see?  I see hardship and survival.

These feet have taken her many miles.

These hands have held a baby of hers at 13. 

These hands worked hard to take care of her daughter.

These hands have worked horses, even thoroughbreds.

These hands were raised to protect herself when her father hit her on the head with metal spikes.

These hands took care of her mother and father when they could not take care of themselves.

After 40 something years, these hands were thrown up in the air and these feet walked away after having all she could take.

She got into her small truck and said Lord, take me where you will.  The truck broke down in our town of Bowling Green.

Her stay at the Salvation Army was up.

She now stays under the bridge.
Do you want to judge her?
Not until you've walked in her shoes.

These feet walked into the hospital and she heard the diagnosis of Chrone's Disease.  She cannot buy the medicine.  The feet walked back to the bridge empty handed.

These hands are blackened by the ashes from the fire built to stay warm and make coffee. 

Blackened ashes cover her face, a face that held beauty.

She was told so, but all she could do was point to her once broken nose and once broken fingers.

She saw dirt and brokeness.  I saw a beautiful face beneath it all.

And God sees our beauty beneath the dirt and brokeness and offers his red blood to make us white as snow.

I see survival in these hands.  I see strength in these feet.

Does God see himself in her heart?

She says yes.

Only she and the Lord know this.

I pray for these hands to fold in prayer.  I pray for these hands to lift up to Him in glory and honor.

I pray healing for these hands in whatever way she needs.

I pray for complete healing in the heart.

I pray for the gift from the manger to be truely inside of this homeless woman so that one day she will be truely at home with the Lord, the Savior, the gift from the manger, homeless no more.

A Percolator and a Tree

A small act of kindness, a small gift, maybe a seed planted? 

 A perculator, coffee and creamer delivered to underneath a bridge. . ."Merry Christmas" is heard in the cold, windy air. . .Smiles.

Sweet college girl talks about horses with the black ashened face of the homeless woman who used to work with thoroughbreds.  Beneath the black ashes on the white face, was beauty.  But she would not let it be photographed.  She was told she was beautiful.  She points to her once broken nose and fingers and blackened hands from the fire's ashes.  She only saw the brokeness and dirt.  I saw more.  She will be told again.

A pine tree growing at the edge of the bridge, pointed out, saying it looked like a Christmas tree.  They think about it. . .Christmas. . .but nothing to hang on that tree.

Next week-end, another gift.  A surprise. 

Garland and tinsel and balls for a lonely tree by the bridge, for lonely people. More smiles in the making?  Another seed planted?  Hope settles in a smile coming across the face as thoughts of giving come to mind. . .not so much store bought giving, but giving from the heart. 

When they look at their new Christmas tree, will they see Christmas?  I hope they see it in more than just the tree.  Such an easy, simple thing to do. . .results could be priceless and out of this world.  Worth it?  I think so.  We'll see. . .stay tuned.

P.S. Please pray for good weather!

linking with

The Four Sons

*( My mother-in-law has been diagnosed with cancer and given 6-12 months.  I became overwhelmed that I had not said what I should have said a long time ago.  Let's never wait until death's door to say, "Thank You" or "I love you", or "I'm sorry", or "I forgive you", or whatever it is you need to say. . .do it now)*



Dear Mr. and Mrs. Bridgman,

As I ponder this month on the Son that was sent to save me, to be my Savior, the greatest gift ever given to me, I also ponder on another son given to me, your son, Keith; another wonderful gift!

I thank my God all the time for His Son and also for your son, but I don't think I have ever thanked you two for him and so I do now. . .Thank you!

Thank you for raising your son with integrity and love.  Thank you for raising your son in the church.  Thank you for laying that strong foundation that he now stands on that anchors him to be a source of strength to me and to our boys.  Because of him, I was blessed with two more gifts, my own two sons.

Sons are precious.  Sometimes they can be a handful, sometims a son can bring heartache, but they also bring joy and a love like no other.  I've been blessed!

The perfect Son from above has been my guide and shepherd.  So has your son been that for me.  The perfect Son has been my comforter.  Your son has been that to me also.  Your son has taken the last 30 years to take care of me and love me and always be there for me. . .like the other Son I mention.

Yes, the Son of God is perfect, Keith is not.  But he is perfect for me and God knew that.  I rejoice as I think how He had his hand on Keith and me and brought us together in holy matrimony 30 years ago.  You two were there to welcome me and love me also and I thank you two for that.

I marvel at long marriages.  You two have celebrated 62 years as of now.  I know it's not been perfect as no marriage is, but you have demonstrated perseverance, patience, forgiveness, and a love that does not give up.  That is becoming rare in these days.  Thank you for modeling this for us who are behind you.

Thank you for raising the boy who grew into a man that does not give up.  That loves when it is not always easy.  For being strong when I am weak.

I thank You God for giving me two precious sons.  I thank You God for sending Your Son, Jesus Christ to come to the manger, to grow into who He already was, a part of You, to come and become a part of me.  Thank you for Mom and Dad Bridgman and for the son they sent out into the world to find me and to become a part of me.  I became complete.

As I ponder over four special sons, I sing Joy to the World. . .the Lord has come, the husband has come, the two precious sons of mine have come.  And although one wonders, the gift is still in my heart.

Thank you Mom and Dad Bridgman for giving me the gift that keeps on giving; the gift that will last a life time; the gift of your son.

Merry Christmas and I love you both,
Kris


"For the Lord is good and His love endures forever;
His faithfulness continues through all generations."
Psalm 100:5

Do you need to tell someone something?

Bloopers and Blunders



Why does lingo have to change?  It’s confusing to my little brain.  It puts me in awkward predicaments.  I risk embarrassing my teen-ager, not to mention myself.  Actually, my sweet son does not get embarrassed.  I provide him with much laughter.  I think I make him feel grown up because I give him reasons many times to correct me.

This is not a good problem to have when you decide to write and put it out there for the whole world to see.  I’ll give you an example so you can laugh at me too J . . .I was writing a story and used the word incestuous when what I meant to use was the word incessant. There is just a tad bit of difference in the meanings of these two words. . .oops!

Would you like another example of one of my blunders?  I thought you might.  One time I wrote about being prostrate on the ground in prayer but I wrote the word prostate instead. 

This one cracked up my teen-age niece. . .When I was growing up, what we now call flip-flops, was called something else.  A few years ago, my sister, niece and I were in the car together and it was hot.  I said I couldn’t wait to get home and put on my thongs.  My niece gasped in the back seat saying, “Aunt Kristy, you wear those!?”  I replied, “What’s the problem, everyone wears them, you wear them.”  My sister says through her laughter, “We now call those flip flops” and turned to explain to her daughter that when we were young, people called those thongs.  An innocent mistake.

I made another innocent mistake at my mothers one day, way back when I was much younger and just newly married.  Keith and I were both experiencing achy muscles, so we bought an electric massager, the kind that massages deep into the muscles taking the soreness away.  One day, while in my mother’s kitchen, I was trying to tell her about this new contraption of ours thinking she might like one as she was always complaining of a bad, sore back.  I was explaining how wonderful this vibrator was and it felt so good and she should really try it.  I got that surprised, almost horrified look from my mother, kind of like the one I got from my niece, and then my mother says through her hysterical laughter, “Kristy, call it a massager, not a vibrator.”  Not until she said it, did I realize how the conversation was sounding. . .oops!

Our conversations are to be seasoned with salt. I think my conversations are ok but my vocabulary needs some work, or maybe I need an English lesson, or maybe I just need a fiesta. . .or should that be siesta?  What am I thinking, trying to now go into another language?  I better just stick with my own and learn it better.

But again, it can be so confusing.  When I was young for instance, if you were happy, you were gay.  Today you better be blissful, elated, or even tickled pink.  The last thing I want to do is upset someone, and so I can become anxious as I write, praying that I don’t offend anyone.

I’m wondering if this problem is a middle age problem.  I am nearing the middle of the road number on the ol’ birthday cake.  Or maybe I just need to go back to school.  What class would I sign up for? 

Foot in Mouth 101

Learning How to Talk for the 40 Somethings

How Not to Be a Blooper and Blunderer

That middle one would not work because I was doing this in my twenties and thirties too.

Oh well!  If I give people laughter, even at my expense, so be it.  Laughter is good for the bones, and for the soul.  So if I write or say something funny, strange, or just plain wrong, feel free to correct me.  We could always use a good laugh. 

 In the mean time, I’ll be working on my vocab.

P.S.  I've been asked to talk on the radio this week about the blanket ministry, HA!  With my little vocab problem, this could be really interesting!  Please pray for me!

Linking with. . .