O Lord, what a fun weekend. We visited our sweet granddaughter. Took walks in the woods. Worshipped You at church with dear friends. But today’s Monday, with piles of laundry, groceries to buy and I’m-behind writing projects to do. Worse, the bathroom scales — that invention of the devil — glare at me as if eating ice cream is a felony. OMG, I’m so glad Your love shows up even on a Monday.
O Lord, You know I suffered when Hubby said, “We have to take down this tree before it goes bald.” Before long — maybe not until Valentine’s Day? — we’ll store the evergreens, the toy village, and the manger scene. I’ll fuss over the whole process like a sulky six-year-old.
But OMG, I thank You that Christmas is never over. Emmanuel, whose name means “God with us,” can’t be shut in a closet or stuck in the garage. Jesus walks my world and yours, seeking whom He can bless.
Image by Raquel Candia from Pixabay.
#January #alwaysChristmas #JesusBFF
O Lord, thank You for four generations of a family who gathered to celebrate You with gifts, yummy food and a wonderfully in-tune carol singalong. OMG, there’s nothing like partying together with You!
O Lord, if we add one more gift to the tree, we won’t be able to sit in the living room. If we add more food to the fridge, it may fall through the kitchen floor. Clean sheets and sleeping bags await the four generations who soon will arrive. But OMG, please come on in! The Guest of Honor, You are so very, very welcome.
Merry Christmas from the Phillipses!
O Lord, when big holiday challenges make me feel small, I thank You for giving me this awesome, 6’3” elf who sewed a rip in my winter coat, washed sheets, and cleaned bathrooms. OMG, what a gift he is!
This post first appeared on February 10, 2021.
I shoveled out my office last November.
A delayed optometric appointment had prevented me from seeing its squalor. After all, having bumped a fellow “pedestrian,” I realized I’d apologized to a mailbox.
I also stumbled through my chaotic office to reach the printer.
What finally inspired a cleaning turnabout? I share the printer with my husband.
Rummaging through rubble, I saw carpet. It’s blue — who would have known? I even (drumroll) cleared my desk.
Hubby thought he’d entered the wrong house. Then he swore I was the wrong woman. After checking birthmarks and dental records, though, he acknowledged I was his wife, not a lookalike alien. Even if I’d cleaned my office.
“Clean,” though, is a relative term. Some neatniks scrub their garage floors. Their streets.
I speak a different language. “Clean” means piles have been boxed and lined up along walls. It also implies bookshelves no longer threaten to collapse, as (sniff!) I gave books to Goodwill. Three of them.
I follow a never-fail formula for dealing with UFOs — Unidentified Funky Objects. If it doesn’t erupt, tick or grow tentacles, I toss it into a closet or drawer.
Mission accomplished last November.
Then came Christmas.
Bushels of Christmas junk migrated to my office. With the advent of energetic grandsons, our antique clock fled there for protection. So did the crystal clock my husband gave me. Custom-thrown pottery also took refuge.
Piles of trash, attracted as if magnetized, have made themselves at home.
Now, trying to force the office door open, I confront the unthinkable: I should clean again.
Twice within four months?
Let’s just buy another printer. And put it in Hubby’s office.
Your Extraordinary Ordinary: What’s your definition of “clean”?
Does your family celebrate Easter in traditional ways?
My siblings and I hid Easter eggs so well, truants were located weeks later by their potent odor. We awoke to yummy treats … in our polished shoes. Years before, Mom had possessed only pennies to spend on Easter. Having poured out frustrations in prayer — Mom talked to Jesus about everything — she recalled reading about Dutch children receiving Christmas candy in their shoes and nested jelly beans in ours.
My father, a pastor, celebrated Easter wholeheartedly, his bass voice leading “Christ the Lord Is Risen Today,” “He Arose” and … “Joy to the World.”
I thought everyone sang that hymn at Easter. As a teen, though, I realized other churchgoers sang it only at Christmas. I kept our odd custom a deep, dark secret, hoping no Easter visitors knew me.
Fast-forward 20 years. My children and I dyed eggs, their clothes and mine. One helpful toddler knew egg-zackly what to do with eggs.
Crack them.
Our family could afford Easter baskets. Repeating the story of their grandma’s faith, though, I filled my kids’ shoes with grass, chocolate bunnies and jelly beans.
My grandchildren still receive Easter treats in their shoes and hear of their great-grandmother’s prayer. They will dye Easter eggs — and their clothes. Our congregation will sing “Christ the Lord Is Risen Today” and “He Arose.”
Joy to the World”? Probably not.
I’ll save that hymn for a visit to our parents’ graves. I didn’t want them to die. They weren’t crazy about the idea, either. But because Jesus came alive again, they will too. Someday, we’ll all be together with Him.
Joy to the world! To all who believe in Jesus’ Resurrection.
Your Extraordinary Ordinary: How do you celebrate Easter?
This post first appeared on December 28, 2022.
Years ago, my husband and I prepared for a barbarian invasion.
We hid valuables. We said prayers. We kept watch, knowing they’d sweep away our well-ordered lives.
They came.
We charged outside … and retrieved the world’s most beloved barbarians, our two-year-old granddaughter and 10-month-old grandson, from car seats.
“Gwandma! Gwandpa!”
Baby immediately yanked our books from shelves. When we interrupted, he reacted with a type A personality’s outrage.
His sister flipped light switches. “On! Off!” The little blonde goddess obviously controlled the universe.
Time to civilize barbarians — a little. We played with blocks, love-worn stuffed animals and an ancient Fisher-Price parking garage our children enjoyed.
The grandchildren zoomed cars down the ramp, cheering wipeouts. The scene reminded me of Christmas parking lots. And (shiver!) future 16th birthdays.
I offered a Nativity set with soft finger puppets. Baby happily crawled around with Wise Men in his mouth. Retrieving bowls from my cabinets, his sister made imaginary applesauce for the Nativity crew.
Peace on earth reigned.
Too soon, they had to leave. Hubby and I helped their parents search for bag, bottles, coats.
We wanted to send the Nativity set home with them, an early Christmas present. Hopefully, gnawing the Wise Men would keep Baby quiet during the trip. Mary and Joseph bore evidence Little Girl had found real applesauce for their dinner party. We corralled animals, angels and shepherds.
Where was Baby Jesus?
Hubby sifted through the toy box again. I scanned refrigerator shelves, hoping Little Girl hadn’t decided Jesus needed air-conditioning.
“Is Jesus in the parking garage?” I yelled to Hubby.
Not a question I’d ever expected to ask during my lifetime.
Shaking my head as I raised the toilet lid, I hoped He wouldn’t be floating in a not-so-sanitary Sea of Galilee. No, but new anxiety seized me. Had someone flushed Him?
“I’ll find Jesus and mail Him,” I promised.
But I’d wanted our grandchildren to get to know Him during Christmas.
I dove under furniture again and discovered Baby Jesus behind the stereo.
“How did He end up there?” Our daughter dusted Him off.
I shrugged. “Who knows? Jesus sometimes turns up in the oddest places.”
Your Extraordinary Ordinary: Where did Jesus show up during your Christmas season?
OMG, You really did come to Earth to rescue us from ourselves.
Thank You. Thank You.
This post first appeared on December 22, 2021.
Unlike Mary, Jesus’s mother, and Zechariah, John the Baptist’s dad, my husband and I didn’t see angels when we learned we would be parents. Medical tests one December confirmed our first child was under construction. Our Christmas miracle.
Other confirmations seemed less wonderful. Entering Grandma’s kitchen Christmas morning, I nearly fainted. The fragrance of spareribs, usually mouth-watering, spun my stomach onto a Tilt-A-Whirl™ ride.
Soon my waistline and feet vanished. One guy, playing a game at my couples’ shower, guessed my belly diameter measured seven feet. He shouldn’t have lived to procreate. Because his wife was my friend, I allowed it.
Given pregnancy and delivery, how does the human race continue?
Yet, according to Dr. Luke’s biblical account, devout, elderly Zechariah and Elizabeth longed for that miracle. Marginalized because of infertility, they’d lost hope.
Then Gabriel, an angel, appeared to the freaked-out priest, proclaiming they’d have a son.
Even an angel couldn’t convince Zechariah. Still, as Elizabeth’s baby bump swelled, his faith grew.
Meanwhile, Gabriel visited teenaged Mary in Nazareth and greeted her as the soon-to-be mother of the Messiah.
Mary was engaged, not married. She hadn’t been with Joseph or anyone else. This intruder was delusional, maybe dangerous. If I’d been Mary, I would’ve called 911.
Instead, she believed he came from God. Mary offered herself to whatever He had in store.
Gabriel also said Elizabeth was pregnant too.
This, Mary had to see. Had Gabriel shared God’s truth? Or was that stranger crazier than she?
When big-bellied Elizabeth greeted Mary as the mother of her Lord, Mary’s festering doubts disappeared.
Elizabeth knew. Mary didn’t have to explain. Or hide.
The pregos could tell their stories without boring each other. They could gripe about swelling feet. They agreed that neither could stand spareribs.
Both, however, had developed cravings for pickled goat. If Zechariah balked at buying it, Mary would.
God gave those women each other. Elizabeth could face people asking if John was her grandson. Mary could go home to her parents. Face Joseph. Face rabbis who might throw rocks.
Mary would need more miracles. Thankfully, God wasn’t finished yet.
Because Mary accepted stressing along with blessing, Jesus came and redeemed humankind.
Today, His miracles also may include not-so-spiritual complications, some nastier than morning sickness. Some, dreams come true.
He’s not finished yet.
Your Extraordinary Ordinary: How do you think He will work in 2024?