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| ...or Scrooge-ish, if you will.
It occurred to me this morning, one of the reasons why "The Christmas Season" bothers me so much, and I think it has to do with the idea that "we must FEAST!" ... Yes, we MUST feast. I embrace this whole heartedly, and have a Christmas Eve dinner planned for my kids that will be delicious and rich and very feasty. So, it isn't the idea of feasting, per se. I love feasting. It is so...festive 
What gets me is the idea that "we must FEAST!" when every day, we in the West eat like kings. We have feast day EVERY day...an Easter Feast for breakfast; a Thanksgiving Leftovers feast for lunch, and a Christmas Feast for dinner. Every. Day. Of. Our. Lives. And, we have rich sweet stuff for dessert, most days, plus snacks.
What's special about Christmas Dinner, if every day we are deciding whether to have a turkey club or some leftover pasta alfredo with shrimp for lunch?
The entire month of December is packed with images of "old-fashioned" Christmases. Well, back in the day (I mean before the current "old fashioned" Victorian Christmas ideal came along. Isn't the Currier and Ives, Dickens, and Night Before Christmas what we are presented with each year?) (and granting me license for not REALLY knowing because I'm not a historian or anything, but I do read and I'm not completely bereft of knowledge)...Back in the day, the Christmas Feast was truly a feast day for people whose foods were very simple and basic: breads, root vegetables, various grains, beans, greens when they could get em. A chicken from the yard made several meals for a regular family, from dinner to lunch to soup, over the course of a whole week.
Let me attack this from a slightly different angle. Why is fruit cake a "traditional" Christmas feast dessert? The stuff tastes very strange to me. Nowhere near as delicious as, say, cheesecake or Lindt balls or even my mom's homely Orange Rolls that are my family's traditional Christmas breakfast. Fruit cake is dense, moist (in a mostly yucky way...damp might be a better word) has some nuts, and those nasty bits of dried and candied fruit. I suspect many people don't particularly care for dried fruit bits, and I can't imagine anyone purposely choosing a candied orange peel as a treat. Even the candied cherries in fruit cake aren't wonderful. But fruit cake is full of such things. Why does fruit cake get manufactured, sold, bought, and given as a Christmas gift?
This is what I think. Back in the day, when things were REALLY old-fashioned, sweet things were very rare for regular people. They were truly a treat for people whose daily meals were quite simple. In addition, I think that preserving foods was a much more difficult matter. The hams were preserved in smoke; the goose or turkey was special because it was killed right before the feast...Nuts, naturally preserved in their own shells, and rich with fats and texture were present during the Christmas feast...and they feature large in fruit cake...
well, what about fruits of the summer time? How were those preserved when refrigeration wasn't available? sugar, honey, and spices acted as preservatives in those days, so...The cherries that were harvested in June, some of them, got packed away in jars with heavy sweet syrup as a preservative. Grapes and currants were dried into raisins; sugar plums were stored in sweet syrup; figs and dates dry easily; bits of pear or apricot maybe? and they were set aside, too. The only sweets many people would ever taste, and only for certain, set aside holy days when rejoicing and giving thanks for blessings was the order of the day. Feast Days, when treats were prepared and shared.
A person whose daily meals might consist of porridge, bread and butter, and possibly stew or soup in the evening, would find this fruit cake, with its rich heavy texture and lots of sweet (to their taste) morsels scattered throughout, to be a special treat. I imagine housewives storing up their produce from summertime and fall, setting bits aside for a festive occasion in the future. They would mix and bake a month or so in advance (and maybe, some of it, soon after the harvest?) and soak the entire concoction in rum or brandy (thus both preserving and enhancing the "merry making" quality of the treat, eh?) A fruit cake, to people like this, was a genuine treat.
Nowadays, we have as much sweet stuff as we want, day in and day out. Compared to "old-fashioned" people, most of us eat sumptuously on a daily basis. What could possibly be "feast like" to people who eat "feast like" every day? Is ham a spectacular treat to people who can pick up a ham and cheese sandwich at the local Subway or Quizno's any day of the week? Is a box of chocolates super exciting, when we can buy such a thing at any Shopko, any time we hanker for some?
So I think part of my problem with "The Christmas Season" has to do with the fact that Christmas isn't really a feast for hardly anyone in the western world. Sure, there are lots of parties which isn't "the usual" for most people, and gift giving is always a blessing and we don't go around giving presents to people on a daily basis...but we do so many things at this time of year based on things that mean absolutely nothing nowadays...like fruit cake...we force ourselves into some artificial idea of "what Christmas is" and do it because "That's what one does at Christmastime" not because it has any meaning or value.
And so we go a little frantic, looking for the old fashioned Christmas, giving fruit cake as a "traditional" gift when we have no concept what it means to go without sweets so long that fruit cake would seem delicious to us. We don't know anything about emptying ourselves, or living simply day-to-day, so that when richness and festivity do come along, (for valid, meaningful, good, true and beautiful reasons) we have nowhere to put them except on top of our already complicated, hectic, over-full lives.
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| Three o'clock a.m. in the morning...middle of the night. I woke up drenched in sweat at about 1:15 and have not been able to get back to sleep. My poor cats are puzzled. What's mom doing up at this hour? and sitting at the computer, no less.
Thoughts of chronic cellulitis and what it means for my future swell in my mind. I think "I should pray" and then I get up and come to my computer. One of the causes of recurrent cellulitis is "venous insufficiency" so I looked that up. I don't have ANY of the other symptoms except: I have heavy calves and puffy ankles and I always have AND I spent two decades of my life obese. Venous insufficiency can be caused by obesity and even though I am now no longer obese (merely overweight, and aiming for "normal weight" and I do believe some day soon I will be normal weight)...well, consequences are consequences. I may have venous insufficiency in a mild form, which is hampering recirculation of blood in my legs, which then lends itself to recurrent skin infection...maybe.
so I looked up exercises for the condition and found that leg stretches and toe taps and sitting with feet elevated and sleeping w/leg higher than heart are all good practices. Fine.
Basically it is a circulation problem, so I also found some sites dealing with massage and my son who is studying massage therapy recommends a treatment of alternating cool and warm compresses that I may start up.
Cellulitis is a skin care issue, so...I've got to take extra care. Treat my feet like diabetic feet. Moisturize every day. Scrub my legs in the shower...it's easy to neglect them, being all down close to the shower floor like they are...and make sure to use a good lotion every day.
thing is, I am not old. I want to do things like hiking and gardening and romping with my grandkids. Heck, I don't even have the stamina for decent writing when this stupid illness is on me and I'm pretty much useless at work. Yesterday I forgot a client I was supposed to pick up for transport...because I'm so blasted foggy minded and wiped out. I don't want to sit with my feet elevated. Don't want to fuss about the skin on my feet and legs. I want to get up in the morning, shower, tea, devotions, breakfast, some brisk housework, a little bit of digging around out in the yard perhaps. I want to buy bushels of tomatoes and can them. (really. I do...I have done, Canning is a Good Thing, Man.) Heck, I want to tap on the door of the home where that luscious apple tree is and ask if they'd like me and my kids to come take all those messy apples off their hands before they fall and go to waste like they do every year.
Or, barring a lot of physical vigor, I'd love an energetic and focused prayer ministry: wake "early in the morning, before it is light" and spend lots of time with God.
as it is, I have now set my alarm for 6 instead of the usual 5, and my prayer life is suffering. :(
well, now I feel sleepy. gotta try and catch a few z's ...
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| In June, my income went down by 25% when one child graduated high school and his child support ceased. After putting in applications at several places (looking for a few extra hours per week to make up for the child support) I adjusted my lifestyle downwards, getting rid of cable and internet services, foregoing movies or eating out and no new earrings, nor even thrift store shopping. And God asked me to give 20% in July. I said "Sure thing!" ...and got the smallest paycheck in over two years (I had been sick in June with cellulitis and taken two days off, and that pay period was reflected in the paycheck that came with my promise to give away 20% of my income)
I did it, not without some clammy hands and a touch of anxiety. But truly my main response was "I wonder how God is going to pull this off?" Luke 6:38 says give, and it will be given to you. Good measure, pressed down, shaken together, running over, will be put into your lap. For with the measure you use it will be measured back to you.” I clung to that promise...still do. And I know by experience that money is hardly ever the way that God gives. Not to me, anyway. I prayed that promise to God, still do, frequently, and continued to be amazed.
For instance, in August tags were due on my license. $108.00. Safety inspection revealed three things that needed doing: tires, rear brake light, and a cracked windshield. I prayed. I wondered how God was going to handle these extras.
Took the car in for the windshield repair and got it done. When they went to present the bill to my insurance company...THERE WAS NO RECORD OF THEM HAVING DONE ANY WORK ON MY CAR. Now...I am still waiting for the call back, because the lady at the glass place said they were going to be looking into it. Meanwhile, I got my windshield and haven't had to pay anything on it YET.
Tires were $70 for two, including installation and balance AND that shop replaced my taillight for free. How's that? When I went to the ATM to get cash to pay them (new shop, no card reader at the time) I saw my balance was over $300.00. How could that be? And how wonderful! I had more than enough to pay them for the tires and pay for the safety inspection AND pay for the registration! Awesome, Awesome God!
I also paid for an oil change at the same time. My mechanic neglected to check the gasket, and all the oil poured out of my car within a day or two. When I put two quarts in, I jostled something, because that day the car started making a bad noise. So I took it in. They had to keep it, because it needed some big, time consuming repairs. I said "Lord, how are You going to handle this? I need a car"
That day, my ex had to go out of town for personal matters, for a couple of months. He left his car for me to use. Did God pour out money into my lap, overflowing, abundant, pressed down? No. But He DID make sure I have a car to use. and i do have the internet, because my ex also left his computer and a strong wireless modem for us to use while he's away.
Meanwhile, the repairs on my vehicle ran over $300, and the shop has kindly agreed to let me pay for it $100 at a time. I'll have my own car back by the end of the month, when I also will be handing my ex's car keys back to him. How's THAT for creativity in providing?
Not only that, but there is food in my fridge, my cupboards are stocked, I have a washer and dryer, a warm shirt and sweat pants on, wooly socks on my feet. My kids are sleeping nicely in their warm beds, and I am amazed at the infinite variety that God \displays in taking care of all my needs.
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| I live next door to a family of clutter. If life were a cartoon, when this family of six pulls up to the curb and gets out of their mini-van, all kinds of litter would flutter around them as they packed kids and diaper bag and other big stuff, leaving a trail of things like candy wrappers, broken sippy cups, fast food packaging, and random small shoes behind them on their way in the front door. There have been used diapers on more than one occasion, left in the driveway or near the big garbage bins at the curb, and once in the middle of my "back out" path when I was leaving for work or something.
They are a happy, busy family with a six year old boy, twin girls of three, and a baby almost two years old. They attend the local Potter's House, and are very active members there. It seems they spend more time at church, than at home. I have watched the daddy of this family grow and improve his manners in many ways. He no longer shouts ugly epithets at his wife for the whole culdesac to hear, and he doesn't go around without his shirt on at all times and in every venue (yes, knocking on my door to ask me a question. Shirtless. On my front porch) ...the mom and dad don't scream at their kids as they used to, either. It is evident that they are seeking God and trying to bring their daily life into alignment with His ways.
However, their littering ways have gotten under my skin BADLY. When they get out of their vehicle and pile out of their van, things fall out all around them. The front of my home (and theirs) looks like a public park picnic area that hasn't been policed in awhile. Q-tips, sucker sticks, shreds of toilet paper, pop tops from soda cans, little tiny shreds of colored balloon, ketchup packets...and it has been irritating me. The landlords have spoken to them a few times, particularly about their habit of keeping an open garbage bin on their back porch until it is overflowing (and literally OVER FLOWING into their yard) and when they had a broken car seat, an old lamp, a shirt, some large broken kid toys all piled up around their porch and looking extremely trashy, the landlords told them to clean it up and keep it cleaned up. Such landlord lectures work for a brief time, but as I write, there is a stack of flattened boxes and a big black garbage bag, along with an orange extension cord cluttering the space around their front porch, and their back porch has a small kitchen sized garbage can, overflowing, with trash all around it and spilling over onto their yard. Not a major bin, but still trash everywhere.
When the dirty diaper appeared in my driving path, so I couldn't get out of my driveway without backing over their baby's poop, I went and knocked on the door. Asked the dad to please take care of it. Otherwise, I've been just quietly picking up when it gets too much. And today I spent an hour cleaning the yard. There was more than just their clutter around. I took out some big mint sprigs that were dominating my porch, pulled up some bind weed, some sticky grass, and other plants that were looking untidy. However, a lot of what I took care of was their detritus. A sock or two. Three diapers (somehow, they were at the back of the car port, and they don't use their side of the car port because there is a broken down car sitting there so how did those diapers get there???) a big gulp cup, soda straws, drink lids, many wadded up tissues...etc. too much to list it all. Let's leave it at "not an easy family to share a duplex with"
And this is where the story could turn into "The Busy, Happy Family and the Grumpy Woman Next Door" or "why does she hate us, daddy?" I've been picking up here and there, when things get too much and I can't stand it anymore. I go out with a grocery bag and, grumbling under my breath, pick up and toss many small pieces of litter, with frequent larger pieces, about twice a week. I mutter about what freaking slobs these people are. I grumble about how ignorant (and "ignernt") they are to be this way. I huff and puff and get all ticked off about it.
But today as I worked, the Lord spoke to my heart. "You can love your neighbor as yourself and take care of this for them in My Name, or you can go ahead and do this job with bitterness and an ugly attitude" Oh LORD! I've been praying that the landlords would finally have enough and evict them, and here He was telling me to adjust MY attitude. So, I finished the job calmer and just did it, because it needs doing, they are busy somewhere (I think they haul the whole family to a prayer meeting at their church at 7:00 AM on Saturdays) and it was cool and I have energy today for the first time in weeks. I did it because it is important to me that the place not look trashy. The little bits of litter bother my eye. If they are busy and probably a bit overwhelmed with four little kids, it doesn't hurt me any to do a task that needs doing, and they don't have the time or energy to take care of it themselves. I can love my neighbor.
But I am going to let the landlord know about the overflowing trash in the back.
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| I wondered what it would be, would wake me this morning, before the alarm. Lately, it's been two teenagers who, though not NOISY, do stay awake until the wee hours which disturbs my sleep by 2:30 or so until I holler at them to go to bed and be quiet. Yesterday, all was quiet in the morning, and i still woke up five minutes before 5:00 (which is when my alarm goes off) and the day before, it was a cat jumping up on my legs with her pointy paws. The point being: something ALWAYS wakes me up, whether in the middle of the night so it's worth going back to sleep, or an hour before the alarm so I might as well get up, which also makes me believe that the Lord has His reasons for my being SLEEP DEPRIVED!
So this morning. A cat came and got under the covers with me and purred me back to a good drowsy drifty state, and then I heard...rustling on the black tarp I have over the garden near my bedroom window (I sleep in the basement, with the head of my bed under the window where the black tarp is)...I heard some rustling, which I've heard before. I always figure there's a cat exploring the area. It happens maybe twice a month, this rustling of the tarp and I usually go right back to sleep, no problem.
Not this time. Nope. Whatever it was, CHITTERED. I told Rosie Cat to shush her purring, and she did...she jumped up from the covers and sat, alert, on the easy chair. She had heard it, too. Then there was a scraping and thumping ON THE WINDOW. Remember, my window is a basement window and has a shallow window well. And whatever had rustled the tarp, was now thumping and rubbing on my window.
I knelt up on my bed and pulled the drape back, and I could SEE it. It was up on its haunches, and pawing the corner of my window. It wasn't very large, and my initial thought of racoons sort of faded away, because racoons are biggish. Then I thought "Rat?" and that grossed me out. Then I heard a growly sound which was unnerving, and I turned on the bedside lamp...the critter scattered out of the window well, and I got up. The growling continued, and I was gonna chase it away, whatever it might be.
Found a flashlight and went out the side door, with the intention of hollering and shooing away whatever was making all the ruckus, when the light caught motion in the large horseradish leaves that dominate my side yard (because I didn't plant a garden this year, the horseradish has once again taken over)...so I shone my light over that direction and saw a gray...cat!?...and then it looked up at me with its little mask and glittering eyes and twitching nose...and then its SIBLING came out from behind something and came towards me, then stood up on its hind legs and twitched its nose at me!
It was two young racoons. Not adult, no. These were about the size of a nine month cat, and stinking CUTE! They were so bold, and curious. I was shining a light at them, and they didn't turn and run, but came towards me. I said hello to them, and told them to go home. I wondered briefly if their momma was nearby and thought it would be best if I DIDN'T get too friendly. With their curiosity, eagerness to check me out, and lack of fear, I know I could have gotten them to come...if I'd had a piece of food to offer, for instance. But if momma was around? I know how fierce badgers can be, and racoons are wild, after all. I don't want an adult racoon mad at me at four in the morning and me in my nighty gown!
so, I contented myself with talking to them for a minute. One went back into the lilac bush, (I do believe their momma was there) and the other climbed over the fence. My side yard neighbor has an amazing garden. I wonder if they were planning a raid?
and that was my wake-up call today!
(the first coolest encounter with nature was 25 years ago, hiking in southern Utah and coming across a hummingbird nest with two tic-tac eggs in it, while the mom bird hovered nearby. VERY cool! )
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