We have had the same outdoor cushions for ten years now and, frankly, they were getting sort of gross.  My mother-in-law was kind enough to buy them for us but they had simply outlived themselves.  I still have a pretty difficult time replacing things.  We once had a vacuum for over 20 years when I was growing up and my mother used to say Daddy spent more money fixing the old one than it would have cost to get a new one.  It’s funny how things don’t seem so bad until you replace something else.  With our beautiful new fence in place the old cushions looked even worse.  So I searched for some inexpensive ones that fit and I think look great!  My mother-in-law had given me her grandmother’s beautiful outdoor glass table which holds ten chairs.  Only six fit nicely on our porch with the table and two of the chairs are outside together nearby.  The other two are on the other side of our house overlooking our koi pond.  I dug and dug at the store but could only find six matching orange/red cushions.  I used to work retail in college so I know my way around.  After more intensive scouring in another part of the store, I managed to unearth another two.  But I still needed two more!  The whole hour was about to have been for naught when it occurred to me — why not make the separate two a different color?  Et voilà!  I think the blue looks so beautiful next to the Virgin Mary!  These cushions are but a microcosm of how I believe the Lord works.  This may be a trivial example but I trust you understand the larger point.  Just when you think your work and plans are ruined, God reveals something better He had in store for you, only you could not see at the time.  The American pastor John C. Maxwell said:

“Failed plans should not be interpreted as a failed vision.  Visions don’t change, they are only refined.  Plans rarely stay the same, and are scrapped or adjusted as needed.  Be stubborn about the vision, but flexible with your plan.”

I will continue to have goals and make plans, but keeping in mind God may have something better, I think I just won’t get too cushy.

I have always enjoyed a good acronym.  I especially like it when one actually spells something that doubles as a sensical word; they are quick and clever monikers.  My little one was sporting a frog stamp on the top of her hand when a lady noticed it and commented on it.  So proud, my daughter was only too thrilled to whip out her little stamp pad she’d received in an Easter egg and offer the woman a frog of her own.  I was surprised when the lady said yes, thinking she was a very good sport.  She said it was perfect and that it carried personal meaning for her.  When I gave her an inquiring look she responded, “Faithfully (or Fully) Rely On God.”  Then I found out she was also a minister.  I thanked her for sharing that with us and said I had never heard that one before.  Admiring her hand happily, she turned to my little girl and asked if she would please put a frog stamp on top of her other one as well.  She was more than happy to oblige.  The poor woman could easily have been covered from head to toe in frog stamps without much provocation.  Neale Donald Walsch, the American author of “Conversations with God,” wrote:  “‘FEAR’ is an acronym in the English language for ‘False Evidence Appearing Real.'”  I also have a penchant for alliteration.  I could not help but notice both of these words begin with the same letter.  From now on I am going to try and resolve to FROG more and FEAR less.

Growing up my parents always celebrated the sacred and the secular.  Of course the sacred was what was truly important, but they also saw nothing wrong with creating a little earthly joy to celebrate along with the heavenly one.  For the past week (Holy Week, for Christians) I have tried to answer my five year old’s in depth questions about death, blood, and bones.  Of course I want her to understand Christ’s crucifixion, but I see nothing wrong with letting her delight in the joys of chocolate shaped animals, finding candy eggs, and having a small Easter gift or two.  I got an Easter basket from my mother until I left home.  I always looked forward to it and she loved to do it.  I want to continue that for my daughter, only I think I may always give her an Easter basket.  The first time my mother and I went back to Santa Fe after my father died was a tough one.  In one of our favorite stores on the plaza that year my mother saw a set of folk art cats she fell in love with.  Carved from wood, there was an orange mama cat with her four little kittens all in varying colors and they were nursing,  It was one of the cutest things we had ever seen.  She bought them and named the mother cat Molly.  When my mother passed I placed them carefully on her cedar chest that now resides in our loft where our daughter plays.  She has always loved the kittens, but I told her to please leave them because they were Nana’s and not toys.  I try to be a thoughtful gift giver and I am a big fan of catalogs.  A few months ago I discovered this cloth version of Molly and her kittens and I knew it would be the perfect gift for her Easter basket.  So I crept down in the early morning hours praying to avoid detection and assembled her Easter basket.  I made sure to be “asleep” when my little one went into the kitchen and discovered it.  I heard a high pitched squeal of shock and joy followed by thundering footsteps which became louder and more tremorous the closer she became.  “MAMA!  MAMA!  WAKE UP!” she shouted perilously close to my eardrum as she began tugging on my arm.  “What is it?” I asked.  “JUST COME SEE!!!  COME SEE!!!”  I gave Daddy a discreet poke in the ribs because I knew he would not want to sleep through this.  “Well, let’s wait for your father” I said as she raced to the other side of the bed to get him up.  Within minutes she had us dutifully following her down the steps.  Standing on her tiptoes, I realized bittersweetly she could already reach the kitchen light.  “LOOK!” she exclaimed as I watched Burk’s face genuinely light up:  part surprise and part predatory wolf eyeing the chocolate.  “It’s just like Nana’s!” she exclaimed, referring to the cats.  She hadn’t even touched her basket until we came down.  As she carefully took her cat family out I asked what she was going to name the mama.  “Sweetie,” she promptly declared.  The cutest part is that the kittens are magnetized as well as the mama cat’s “dinners.”  She came with six magnetized nipples so the kittens don’t get lost and they can nurse wherever they please.  We added four to our little family of three in church today and caused something of a small stir.  There was joy as we celebrated Christ’s resurrection on the cross and for the saving grace of life after death.  The Swiss theologian Karl Barth once said, “Joy is the simplest form of gratitude.”  Also present was simple gratitude … for Sweetie and her brood.

Growing up I did not receive an allowance.  I was simply expected to do my chores.  I also did not get paid for getting straight A’s; it was expected of me from my parents that I do my best.  I do remember looking forward to the end of every report card though.  Daddy always took me to get a chocolate dipped ice cream cone as a treat.  When I got married and after we had the baby my husband and I agreed she would not be paid for doing what was expected of her.  I have found though that incentives are a powerful motivator and I do not like always using food.  Burk’s mother was recently in town and was teaching her to read and write different words.  She told her that for every one she got correct she would giver her a quarter.  Pretty soon her four quarters turned into a dollar and it was also a great way for her to get in some math as well.  My little one wound up very proud of her haul, which wound up being three dollars.  “You’re rich!” I told her as we left and she just smiled, clutching the bills in her little hand.  Looking back I realize it would have been beneficial for me to have actually handled some money as a small child before I turned fourteen and started my first real job.  The three bills reminded me of the Holy Trinity and I asked her what she wanted to do with her earnings.  When she shrugged I suggested she could give one dollar to God in church, she could save one, and the last she could just spend and enjoy.  She loved the idea and eagerly awaited putting the first money that she had ever earned into the collection plate.  She was so proud!  I almost caught it too late but I have this picture that captured the moment.  Then I got chided by my five year old as she whispered scoldingly, “Mama you are not supposed to have your iPhone out in church!”  Feeling duly chastised, I put it away.  In 2 Corinthians 9:7 it says:

Every man according as he purposeth in his heart, so let him give; not grudgingly, or of necessity: for God loveth a cheerful giver.

My little girl sent her offering to God with a truly cheerful heart.  I am so very proud of her.  I hope she will continue to put God first by tithing to help others in need and showing obedience to the Lord.  I hope she will have the discipline to save for the future.  And I hope she will be fortunate enough to have a little money to splurge with just for her pleasure.  I pray this sets a precedent for her to responsibly send, save, and spend.

I don’t know about you, but I love seeing people in the middle of the day going about their regular jobs and routines with a very discernible ash cross that has been marked on their forehead.  I think a lot of Catholics try to celebrate the noon mass, and personally I believe it is the most visible Christian witness made during the entire calendar year.  Christians are sent out into the world marked in such a way that to me supersedes even wearing a cross daily.  It is a seal placed upon their forehead which means they are a follower of Christ.  I have mentioned we are Episcopalian; Roman Catholics are not the only Christian denomination to dispense ashes.  We prefer to attend the evening service so that we can all be together as a family.  The imposition of ashes is such a powerful statement of faith.  I love seeing people from the receptionist at the dentist’s office to the bagger at the grocery store bearing the most recognizable sign of Christianity on their forehead for all to see and without shame.  We are blessed to live in a country where we may do so without fear of reprisal.  I wrote last year about the significance of ashes and quoted the reading from Genesis that reminds us all of our mortality.  You may look for it at the bottom of my blog if you wish by typing, “Dust In The Wind” in the search bar.  This year I wanted to quote Psalm 103:8-14:

The Lord is full of compassion and mercy:  long-suffering, and of great goodness.  He will not alway be chiding:  neither keepeth he his anger forever.  He hath not dealt with us after our sins:  nor rewarded us according to our wickedness.  For look how high the heaven is in comparison of the earth:  so great is his mercy also toward them that fear him.  Look how wide also the east is from the west:  so far hath he set our sins from us.  Yea, like a father pitieth his own children:  even so is the Lord merciful unto them that fear him.  For he knoweth whereof we are made:  he remembereth that we are but dust.

I do not know that anyone likes to think about death.  I choose to focus on the Eternal Salvation we are promised for accepting Jesus Christ as our Savior because of the great sacrifice He made for the sins of us all on the cross.  For those who are practicing, I wish you all a blessed Lenten season, beginning with Ash Wednesday.

Today is the first Sunday after Epiphany and it celebrates the Baptism of our Lord Jesus Christ.  The feast day is a commemoration of Jesus’ baptism by his cousin John the Baptist in the Jordan River.  In Anglican, Roman Catholic, and Lutheran churches baptisms are held on this Holy Day.  Our little one was baptized on this day when she was less than three months old.  Today when I showed her this picture that seemed so long ago and yet just a mere moment passed in time, she said with excited recognition that she knew our Bishop, the man here who baptized her.  As I tied the white satin ribbons on her shoes in church today I thought back to that day and how her feet were so tiny she could not even wear her exquisite christening shoes.  Her gown covered them but I loved seeing her baby doll bare feet and toes.  Christ himself must have walked into that water in His bare feet.  The lyrics from today’s communion motet were taken from the Song of Solomon:

Set me as a seal upon thine heart, as a seal upon thine arm, for love is strong as death; many waters cannot quench love, neither can the floods drown it.

I have always loved this scripture.  We are sealed and marked as Christ’s own in the book of life by water.

Most Christians around the world know today is Epiphany; the day observed in commemoration of the coming of the Magi, the three wise men who followed the Star of Bethlehem to find the baby Jesus.  It is the revelation of the Incarnation of the infant Christ.  In more general terms, to have an “epiphany” means to have a sudden realization.  Just as I did when I was a child, I prayed and prayed for a White Christmas.  As I have mentioned in previous posts, I can only recall less than a handful of times in my entire life when we got snow on Christmas day in Dallas.  Last night I explained to my little one that tonight would be the last time we could enjoy the tree and our lit Nativity scene outside.  “But why Mama?” she asked with her soulful brown eyes.  I explained that this was the last day of Christmas.  Then I joked she’d better be glad we weren’t Baptist or some other denomination who pitches their tree the very next day.  (She looked truly horrified.)  My Methodist parents sort of split it down the middle and kept our tree up until the first day of the New Year.  But our family, as Episcopalians and members of the worldwide Anglican communion, celebrates until Epiphany; just as many Catholics, and Eastern and Greek Orthodox do as well.  I wrote last year of having an epiphany on Epiphany.  And I was blessed to discover another today.  All this time my little one had been praying for snow on Christmas.  Today, out of the blue, it dropped down to 22* and by the time I went to pick her up from school a thin blanket of white had covered our little part of the world.  “MAMA IT’S SNOWING!  IT’S SNOWING!” she shrieked with delight.  “God made it snow, you know” she said with her great, somber brown eyes.  “Yes He did,” I acknowledged.  “Can we go out and play in it when we get home?!”  “Can we?” I asked her with a raised eyebrow.  “May we please go out and play in it when we get home?” she amended and I said, “Sure!”  So we went outside and I took this “usie,” something I do not tend to do.  She giggled and said, “A SELFIE!” sounding more like 15 than 5.  “To remember,” I said.  “Mama you look great as a wolf!”  “And you look great as a kitty cat!” I told her.  And so the wolf and the kitty played in the snow until their hands got cold and they went in to warm themselves by the fire.  The American journalist Susan Orlean said, “A snow day literally and figuratively falls from the sky, unbidden, and seems like a thing of wonder.”  Which brings me around to the realization that as my daughter prayed and prayed for Christmas snow she did indeed receive it.  Today is the twelfth day of Christmas; this year’s epiphany.

When I was little there was one Christian bookstore we always frequented.  It was called “Deeper Life” and it had the icthus on it; the ancient symbol of a fish.  In the days when Christians had to go underground in order to know if someone was safe they made a mark on the ground that arked upward from left down to right.  It was drawn as a feeler or sorts.  If the responder was a fellow disciple in Christ they would respond by completing the fish:  arking downward from left up to right.  I remember having this bread box on our table and every night we would read one of the short scriptures before dinner.  I always loved it.  Looking though Christmas catalogues this year I was thrilled to see someone had brought them back!  I bought one for us and quite a few as Christmas presents.  Tonight, as we have our Southern (slightly superstitious) traditional dinner of black-eyes, greens, and cornbread we are going to begin reading through them.  My daddy always took from the left and then put it at the end on the right; that way we were sure to go through all the scriptures.  As we begin a new year, full of hope and resolutions, I thought I would simply end with Jesus’ words, known as The Lord’s Prayer:

Our Father who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name.  Thy kingdom come.  Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven.  Give us this day our daily bread, and forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us, and lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil.  For thine is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory, for ever and ever.  Amen.

My hope for everyone is that this be our daily bread.

Something about New Year’s Eve has always depressed me.  When I was little maybe it was the grey weather.  As I got older it was either disappointment with my current date or not wanting to ring in a new year alone.  When my father died it was that he did not live to see the millennium.  By the time I met my husband to be and we went out I was still willing to stuff myself into high heels.  But I disliked the crowds and the amount of money he spent trying to do something “nice;” everything but the dancing I suppose.  I will never forget the New Year’s Eve when I had just turned 40.  After dinner we wound up having drinks at a restaurant that was packed and happened to be owned by my husband’s maternal side of the family.  It was chilly outside and I was wearing my red wool cape Burk got me the prior June in San Francisco when it was every bit as cold.  He took this picture as I lit my favorite Cuban cigar, a Romeo y Julieta toro blunt cut, straight from the blazing fire pit.  Everyone around us was probably ten years younger and celebrating.  Only my beloved knew I had gone through two unsuccessful attempts of in vitro and was told to try again as soon as possible.  Hundreds of shots, humiliating and painful procedures with male doctors, endless rounds of taking blood, and now my odds of getting pregnant had plummeted because I was 40, despite the fact that it had only been a couple of months.  As the countdown to 2011 began, I took my seven and seven and raised it to my husband’s vodka and tonic.  “Here’s to the best new year ever,” I said.  “To the best new year ever Baby Doll,” my beloved said.  I could see my pain and despair reflected in his deep, chocolate brown eyes.  I glimpsed another couple observing us with what was perhaps a touch of envy.  If they only knew, I thought.  For one year I had not had alcohol or enjoyed a cigar.  My bottom was so sore I could not sit; there was blood on my sitting room stool and vials of injectables in our refrigerator.  I had endured dye being shot up my tubes, and a host of other things it would not be seemly to mention.  Everything had looked perfect and yet nothing took.  I cried a lot.  Here it was, the start of a new year, and I felt more sad than I had even been despite having my sweet, handsome husband with me.  All around us people were shouting, “Happy New Year!” and I felt numb amidst the swirl.  Less than one month later, and against all medical odds due to a doctor’s mistake, I would be carrying our only child.  I say all this because no one knows what the next year holds.  Everything can suddenly change for the better, and when we least expect it.  The famed American lecturer Ralph Waldo Emerson once said:

“Write it on your heart that every day is the best day in the year.”

And so it will be.

Today is Christmas Day and for Christians around the world it marks the beginning of the twelve days of Christmas.  It is a joyful celebration of the Nativity of our Lord.  The eighth century Jewish profit Isaiah foretold the coming of the Messiah and the following is my favorite scripture.  (Yes, partially because it mentions the wolf and in a positive light.)

“And the wolf shall dwell with the lamb, and the leopard shall lie down with the kid; and the calf and the young lion and the fatling together; and a little child shall lead them.”  Isaiah 11:6

I print this scripture on my Christmas card each year.  It is an age old message full of hope that tells us one day we all will come together in unity and harmony.  Oh come let us adore Him, this babe in a manger, whom three Wise Men traveled so far to pay homage to, aided by the Star of Bethlehem.  The King of Kings was not born with great ceremony or opulent finery; rather among gentle animals in a humble manger.  He came to save us all, that we might live.  Sing choirs of angels, and let your heart be light.  As it was written, so it will be:  “And the wolf shall dwell with the lamb …”