WALKING BUDDIES: Part 23 - Advent Conspiracy - December 13, 2008

The holidays sometimes bring out the worst in me.

As the countdown progresses from Black Friday to Christmas Eve and beyond, I sleep less, triggering the cross and cranky button in my brain.

I fret over the rising credit card balance as I repeatedly swipe my card.

And I quake in the presence of the ghosts of Christmas past, present, and future-weight gain—all the while taste-testing the cookie dough, nibbling on mixed nuts, and hoarding all the dark chocolate covered caramels in the Good’s deluxe 2 lb. gift box (the one I bought for my cousin; but then remembered she lives in Arizona and the candy will get all mushy in a hot UPS truck—so what’s a chocoholic to do, but eat it myself…).

Some days I just want to cry, “Bah, HUMBUG!” and hibernate for the holidays. Oh, but then I dream of chocolate and sleepwalk to my carefully guarded chocolate hideaway for a generous dose of serotonin and antioxidants. The mood elevator kicks in and I’m feeling fine, but then my blood sugar plummets from the sucrose overdose, so I head to the sofa for a nap—or back to the candy stash for another fix.

When the kids were young, I made a birthday cake every year and we sang “Happy Birthday” to Jesus. One year I was so out of control that I almost single-handedly devoured Jesus’ birthday cake. I’m usually indifferent to the cake, but this particular year was different. I intentionally purchased a white cake mix and frosting. I’d have to be in dire straights to eat something so “Blah, Humbug!” as white cake.

Well… I discovered that French white cake is dark chocolate’s European kissing cousin. I made countless trips to the kitchen that Christmas to slice just-a-sliver of cake. I polished it off in just under two days, six hours, and seventeen minutes.

Forever frosted in sticky, vanilla shame, I’ve not baked Jesus a cake since. Until I get to heaven, and am safe from gluttonizing Jesus’ birthday cakes, I might do well to join the Advent Conspiracy—an international movement that inspires us to replace consumption (chocolate or otherwise) with expressions of Christ’s compassion.

Here’s the plan: Give the gift of your time, presence, and relationship to loved ones and friends—and then with the money you save, make a donation to a worthy cause.

The Advent Conspiracy has overhauled my Christmas wish list. The clothes and books I asked for? Don’t need ‘em. What I really want is fresh drinking water, nutritious food, medical care, and barebones schools and school supplies—for those who do not have these simple things that I take for granted.

I especially want a goat (available via the India Gospel League for only $85). I think I’ll name her Grace. “Baa-a- (no humbug needed) a-a-a!”

How do you plan to honor Jesus this Christmas?

http://www.adventconspiracy.org/

GRINCH AND GRACE - December 22, 2007

Are you suffering from the, “You’re getting on my nerves and I’m gonna blow if you don’t let me get these packages wrapped in peace!” type of anxiety that characterizes the last minute countdown until Christmas? If so, you’re certainly not alone.

That pesky Grinch is messing with me, threatening to rob me of my Christmas cheer. W e were really looking forward to having Rex’s office staff over to the house last Sunday for a Christmas party. As you know, it snowed—A LOT. The dear woman who cleans for me came on an off day so the house would be spic-n-span for our guests. Like many other events, we canceled our party. But I bought THREE cheese cakes from GFS!!! Now what am I to do with the 39,924 calories and 2,808 fat grams stored in my freezer that are screaming to be devoured? (Yes, this is an exact count!!!)

Ah, well… I used my free evening to write our yearly Christmas letter. I had it just the way I wanted and saved it on my laptop. Then I set to the task of updating my mailing list and printing labels. What?! The option tab for “Envelopes and Labels” is missing. It was there last year! Now poor Rex has to hand address all those envelopes (I’m great at delegating.)

Monday morning, I reread the Christmas letter, did some tweaking, and saved it—so I thought—but evidently the Grinch got it!!! So now, along with addressing envelopes, I have to rewrite my newsletter! I feel a chocolate attack coming on! I believe one of those cheesecakes is chocolate…

…You’ll be relieved to know that the letter is retyped—and printed, and after merely two hours at my computer, I finally figured out how to print those ?@%&*?! labels.

The Grinch is messing with Rex, as well. His task was to pick out a family picture to include with our cards. Digital cameras and computers make it so easy to upload (or download?) pictures from camera to computer to disk to Snapfish—and you breeze into a local store and pick up your photos. NOT! The Grinch is playing hide and seek with Rex on the desktop computer. Inserting the disk, the computer flashes a warning “no disk found.” Another 45 minutes to fix the problem.

Who ordered the pictures? “I thought you ordered them.” “No, I distinctly remember YOU saying you would order them! It’s now Wednesday and I’ve e-mailed a picture order to Meijer. Alas, the Grinch is messing with their computer, too! Yikes, I just glanced at our nicely printed Christmas letters and I see one—no, THREE; make that SIX—errors!!! (Word to the wise: don’t proofread on only five hours of sleep.)

As if that is not enough Grinchiness, my brother-in-law had the audacity to fall and break his hip, messing up the plans for the Teeple Christmas to take place at our CLEAN house. So, we’re taking the party to him. “I truly am sorry for your suffering, Steve, and I’m very glad you’re doing well. But your timing is just awful! There’s a cheesecake with your name on it headed for your freezer. You can listen to those calories and fat grams singing their siren song of calo-chloreste-ric doom!”

Hey, am I going to let that Grinch steal my Christmas spirit? There is so much to be grateful for this Christmas. Like, it could have been ME who broke a hip. This winter wonderland is “Just gorgeous!” I have the ability and time to rewrite, copy, catch errors, and reprint that letter. Everybody loves cheesecake! There’s always next year for having Christmas gatherings at our house. (I’m warning you, Steve, you’d better watch your step next year!!!)

A little bit of humor goes a long way during the holidays. I hope that you can laugh at the Grinch and grab on to the grace of this holiest of times.

For unto us a child is born, unto us a son is given…
and his name shall be called Wonderful, Counselor, The mighty God,
The everlasting Father, The Prince of Peace. Isaiah 9:6 KJV

P.S. to Santa: I’d like a computer geek for Christmas!!!

WAITING - December 15, 2007

I wait for the Lord, my soul waits, and in his word I put my hope.
Psalm 130:5

Waiting is not my forte. Especially at Christmas time. I have too much to do to wait while you dig out your coupons from the bottom of your bottomless purse—and then discover that you left your check book in the car. Oh, ye, who blocks the aisle with your shopping cart, totally obvious to my anxious presence—beware! I’ll be smiling and cordial when you turn and apologize profusely for inconveniencing me, but, trust me, you don’t want to know what I am thinking. Practicing patient grace during the holiday rush is one of the best gifts you can bestow in the long, lingering lines and parking lot jams of holiday life.

Examples of waiting overflow the pages of the Bible. Abraham and Sarah had to wait until they were ancient before they had a baby. Poor Noah and his family waited for the torrential rains to stop and the flood waters to recede, all the while pitching poop over the side of the ark (just think what a major job THAT was, with the myriad of monkeys, mules, mynahs and gobs of other prolific poopers sequestered on the ark!!!). Joseph, Paul, and Peter, languished in prisons—with no blackberries, I-pods, or laptops to keep their minds off their troubles. But that’s nothing compared to God’s chosen people waiting hundreds of years in captivity or exile, and even centuries for the Messiah to come! And we complain about a two hour delay in an airport!

You would think that by this time in my life I would have gained some skill in the waiting game, but I don’t see much progress on my part. I bet Methuselah was an expert at waiting, given all the experience he accrued during his 969 years on this earth! Mature waiting involves patience, faith, trust, and hope. I can engender small amounts of these spiritual qualities some of the time, but to get them all active at the same time and in sync would take a miracle. Occasionally that miracle does indeed happen and I know that I am standing on holy ground, surrounded by grace.

Elizabeth Canham, in “Pay Attention to How You Listen” (Weavings, November/December 2007) reminds us that “even God waited for the fullness of time before Christ was born among us (Galatians 4:4).” Waiting on God’s timing—whether that be humdrum, day-to-day waiting in a slow-moving check out line or crisis waiting in a hospital waiting room or waiting for the fire truck to arrive, “waiting is a holy thing.”

Waiting—a holy thing??? You’ve got to be kidding! But think about this for a moment. In the midst of the rush, rush, rush of life, waiting is an opportunity to give God a call or send him a text message. Better yet, it is a time to listen for God’s voice.

For a child, waiting for Christmas morning is excruciating. This was especially true for me the year I was eight. In January, we would be moving from New York to Indiana, and my Dad’s new job required that he move to Indiana ahead of us while Mom stayed at home to sell the house. Daddy was driving home for Christmas and I was so excited to see him that I could hardly stand it. Mom made me go to bed, promising me that she would wake me when Daddy got home. Amazingly, I was able to fall asleep.

It was my Daddy’s voice drifting from the kitchen into my subconscious that roused me. I dashed into the kitchen and made a bee line for his lap. I was in seventh heaven! How often do we listen for our Heavenly Father’s voice with such anticipation? Are we eager to find God home in our hearts? I challenge you to take the opportunity to listen for your Heavenly Daddy’s voice while you wait in line for gas, wait for the light to change, wait for…whatever. And then watch for that “all is calm, all is bright” feeling to warm your heart.