My Christmas List ...

Every year, for the last 7 years, I have made a list of 3 things that I want for Christmas.  Not things that can be bought ... or wrapped to be placed under the tree.  Three intangible things ... things that stir the spirit and cause my heart to leap with joy ... gifts that bring
the meaning of Christmas home.

I generally make my list early in December ... with the caveat that they will materialize by
New Year's Eve.  So far ... I haven't been let down or disappointed.

Everything about this Christmas is different.  And plans keep changing on a daily basis.  For real,
I thought I had already experienced all of the disjointed, dysfunctional holidays one could imagine.  Looks like there are a few more of them lurking around in ole Santa's bag.

Yesterday I realized that I hadn't made my list yet ... and I was running out of time.  It's important to allow enough time ... because generally my list is made up of things that aren't clearly defined ... or exactly easy.

It's ok.  God assures me time and time again that He's up to the challenge!

So all through the morning I pondered the possibilities.  After quite a bit of brainstorming, I came up with several things that seemed appropriate for this season.

For weeks, I had been planning to attend a different church on this particular Sunday.  There was a very special Christmas service planned ... it was going to be quite a production ... with lots of fabulous music.  And I really thought it was where I wanted to be.  God had
something else in mind.

We missed our time at Grace last week due to the ice storm.  It's very unsettling to Jessi & Donald to have their routines disrupted that way.  And I knew that the idea of going to a "different" church ... even though it's one that is very Jessi-friendly ...  was going to cause them some disappointment.

On the way to pick them up, I decided ... or maybe God decided for me ... that rather than let them down somehow ... the thing to do was to go on to Grace ... and forgo the special Christmas service.

As I settled in my seat, I decided to put my Christmas list on paper.  I opened my journal and wrote the following 3 things:

~ a little awe & wonder
~ a change of heart
~ an overwhelming of hope & healing

I chuckled as I wrote them out like that ... thinking ... there you go, God ... sure hope it's not too much to ask this year.

The service started. Del wasn't there.  It was shared that he had a very special baptism that morning ... a grandson in Texas.  I had to smile.  Obviously, I am not the only one who puts BIG things on their list.

So today the music and the message were going to be provided by two young men ... who always amaze me with their passion & purpose ... because I remember them as boys struggling to find their way.

There was no BIG production.  Or fancy backdrops.  Or anything like that.  As a matter of fact, at times, the worship music faltered a little and it wasn't always easy to sing along.  That's what happens when there worship is led from the heart ... and not practiced over and over until it's perfect.

It was real ... and genuine ... and exactly what my heart needed to prepare it for the rest of the day ... the rest of the season.

Then came the message.  Drew speaks to us from time to time ... when Del's not around. He is always sharing a truth that is working on his own heart.

He opened with a simple prayer ... that he asked us all to pray individually ...

Show me something new, Lord.

I sighed.  And prayed right along with him ... the something new prayer.  Then my heart whispered ... Show me you are near.

Drew fidgeted a little there on the platform.  He's always a little nervous ... until he gets started ... then the good stuff just comes pouring out.

Taste The Wonder

That's what he said he was going to talk about this morning.  I sat up a little straighter so I wouldn't miss anything.

There was something up on the screen ... as he continued to speak. It said something about the "Awh and wonder".   I had to smile ... as I did a double-take.  No way it actually said that ... it had only been minutes since I wrote those very words down.

,.. and the whisper came ... "Seriously, MaryJane, how much time did you really think I would need?!?"

Life has a way of beating the awe and wonder out of us.  That's what Drew said ... and he's right.   He went on to say that God did not intend for us to be spectators in our own lives.  Drew had a lot of powerful things to share. (It's worth a listen ... Taste The Wonder)

Psalm 34:8 Taste and see that the Lord is good.

Taste ... means here .. and now.  Living in the moment.

Living in the moment is somewhere God has been leading me throughout this year of changes & transitions.  Woven into Drew's message were the themes of a changed heart ... that bears the fruit ... that comes from ... TASTING ... the goodness of God.

It was very cool.  God tapped into my "awe & wonder" idea ... it was His way of letting me know He was near ... showing off a little with the whole answered prayer thing.

Drew was on a roll.  Overwhelmed, he said.  It's one thing to be right ... it's another thing to be overwhelmed.

His words ... took my breath away.

God does what He's got to do .. to interrupt our lives ... so that we may SEE the awe of Him.

"A little awe & wonder, MaryJane?!?" chuckled my best friend God, Creator of the Universe affectionately. "Get ready ... for something new!"

(c) December 2013

www.lifelessons-mj.blogspot.com

Thwart

A hummingbird flew up ... just outside of the patio screen.  It seemed to be attracted by the colorful spinning wheels ... of Icky riding in the wind. 

It darted ... and hovered ... until it had captured my attention.

Isn't there an old hummingbird feeder out in the shed?!? I asked myself.There's bound to be one out there somewhere ... we had so many ... once upon a time.

So on a day ... in a week ... when everything in my life seemed to be stalled ... I became overtaken by the idea of a hummingbird feeder ... 
outside my patio door.

Nothing I have done ... or attempted to do ... in the last two weeks ... 
has panned out.

Things I cook so routinely that I could do it in my sleep ... have ended up burned or somehow not right.  Appointments made ... randomly cancelled.  Activities started ... but somehow not completed.  Things placed ... only to be discovered in a misplaced place.  Conversations with clearly spoken, carefully crafted words ... misheard and misunderstood.

It took two days to get around to it. I've been a bit distracted ... by kittys ... and drops ... and other people's dreams.  All in a good way.

The shed is a sad, scary place.  Even though I've attempted to clean it out a couple of times over the last eight years.  Gosh!  Has it really been that long?!?!

A few minutes was all it took to find what I went looking to find.  In keeping with the tempo of my life at the moment ... turns out it was only a partial hummingbird feeder that was hiding there.  That's the reason it was left behind, no doubt.  It was missing something essential.

I carried the glass bottle inside and washed it up.  There was the bottle with a red cap-like thingy on top that made the hanger. And a screw on thingy that once held the nectar dish in place.

Problem was ... there was no nectar dish.

Immediately, I felt defeated.  It was just one more thing ... in a string of things lately ... that just wasn't going to happen the way it was 
supposed to happen.  

And it was such a simple thing.

The next day ... when once again ... my plans to pro-actively & productively do something that was at least a little bit tied to my work ... were scrapped ... I wandered back to the idea of a hummingbird feeder.

Surely it couldn't be too hard to adapt the partial hummingbird feeder ... or even to make one from stuff around the house.  I said that outloud .. then allowed myself to be distracted once again.

Several times throughout the day, it was mentioned.  "Have you gone online to see about making a hummingbird feeder, MaryJane?" or "I bet there are videos out there to show you how to put one together, MJ?"

Intended to be supportive and encouraging, the suggestions were more like the frantic waving of a red flag in front of a bull.  Motivating me, yes, but not necessarily in the intended way.

"Thwarted. I refuse to be thwarted!" I mumbled to myself.  And in an instant, I realized that I had been grappling with that word for ... 
some time.

Thwart.  To defeat the hopes or aspirations of ...

My mind immediately raced back a month or so ... to the day when gathering up limbs in the yard ... we stumbled across a lunar moth ... resting on the ground.  It was being very, very still ... hoping to blend in with the grass.  So still, that we thought it was injured.

Turns out, it was not injured. Just hiding.

We attempted to assist it by nudging it ... hoping to help it fly.  Once it realized that we weren't going to let it be ... it spread it's wings and took to the air ... racing headlong into the inevitable.

A huge bird shot out of nowhere ... and took it in one smooth, swift swoop ...  Just like that.  Poof!  Into thin air. 

In the blink of an eye, it was gone!



The lousy feeling ... of having prodded the moth ... to its demise ... has lingered.  A graphic visual of ... thwart.

It's not enough to stay positive ... to keep the faith ... to focus on the tiny baby steps as you march towards your dreams.  Or so it seems.

I watched a couple of videos on how to build hummingbird feeders.  A fairly elaborate one ... and one so simplistic it was laughable.  Cut holes in a red solo cup ... punch two holes at top ... run a piece of string through them ... tie a knot ... fill with sugar water ... and hang it on a nail.

And after a failed attempt at adding a bottom to the existing feeder, I did exactly that ... with a red solo cup.  Frustrated ... and with a bit of attitude ... I strung up the iconic red cup ... and just hung it out there.

Refusing to be thwarted.  That's what I said about it.

Setback ... has followed setback ... in all things MJ.  Laughing in the face of adversity on all fronts has been the tangible indication of a shred of hope & promise at the end of each day.

Paradoxically, success ... after success ... has burst forth in the lives of many who are important to me.  Results of staying positive ... keeping the faith ... and taking those tiny baby steps ... proof positive that the MJ walk-the-talk ... is the ticket.

The ticket ... for everyone else ... not me.

On more than one occasion, I have been busted out for having a victim mentality.  An o-woe-is-me-Eeyore attitude.  Each time, I had to laugh. I don't feel like a victim ... nor do I share Eeyore's pessimistic view of life.  

Maybe it's more like Pig-Pen ... from Peanuts ... perpetually wandering around in a cloud of his own dust. Dust that he has come to accept ... finding a sense of pride and ownership in the cloud comprised of dust from ancient, lost civilizations.  Swirling about ... at all times ... attempting to obscure whatever joy is to be found in the moment.

Thwart.  It's a test of some sort ...or possibly an attack.  I am not really sure which ... either way ... I refuse to let it get best of me.

A sponge ... that's what I was after when I entered the hardware store.  It was easily found and on the way to the checkout ... the solution to the hummingbird feeder design presented itself.  It was random ... as all things worthwhile in my life seem to be ... the thing that I saw that triggered the creative response.

Back at home, I secured the flat lid of a small plastic container around the drip hole of the glass bottle ... and punched a few holes around the edges. 
I added a bit more sugar water and some red food coloring ... then snapped the bottom of the container in place ... and hung it just above the witchy yard kite.
In a matter of seconds the first little hummer discovered the spot.  Flitting in and out, it hovered over the lid and drank of the sweet nectar.  Then dashed off to tell the others.  Soon there was a parade of hummingbirds ... some drinking in groups ... others darting in for a quick sip ... off again, on their way.

Overcoming the odds and difficulties ... with a positive result. Victory. That's what it felt like.  And it was good. The not being thwarted. 

Over coffee ... the open-ended conversation continues ... joy found in a litany of good things happening to good people ... clouded by the murkiness of MJ obstacles.  A mathematical exercise ... brightened by the presence of the hummingbirds ...

"Don't become discouraged, MaryJane.  
He is saving the BEST for last."

Simple words.  Not a whisper this time.  Spoken words ... offered up as a soothing balm ... an encouragement ... a hope ... to go with the smile ... that I cling to ... and tend to hide behind ... lately.

So what could I say?

What could I do?

But offer this heart, O God, 

Completely to You.

(The Stand by Hillsong)

Sometimes on a day during which nothing seems to happen, MaryJane, everything gets way better. ~ so saith the Universe

  

 (c) September 2013

www.lifelessons-mj.blogspot.com

Answers ...

I got lured into watching a movie ... that I really didn't want to watch. And I had so much to get done today.  Funny how that happened to me ... so soon after I had exhausted myself ... on the whole subject of ... wasting time.

It was a story about life ... choices ... getting lost ... finding yourself ... integrity ... doing the right thing ...and the love that always follows if you simply learn to live life as ... you.

A wise woman in the movie said ... sometimes the tree grows too fast ... and you have to chop off the top of the tree ... to protect the roots.

Mulling that over ... I stayed put ... somehow knowing ... there was something more to come.

There are no answers.  Only the search.  Same wise woman said that, too.

A jolt ... this time ... more than a jab. 

I am always amazed when I wander down a random path ... and discover that a message was tucked away there  ... especially for me ... waiting to be found ... at exactly the right moment.

The movie was totally predictable ... and had a happy ending.  I liked it, though, that there was no promise of happily-ever-after ... or anything as silly as that.

Just a reassurance that all storms can be weathered ... if you live life out of love.  Had to smile ... Del had a thing or two to say about that this morning as well. Props to the choreographer.

Throughout the movie, one question took hold of my mind ... repeating itself over and over and over ... with a steady tempo ... urgent, persistent, disconcerting ...demanding to be asked ... outloud.

What really happens when two worlds collide?

I will spend the rest of the afternoon wondering where it came from ... and why. Tomorrow ...  well, tomorrow will quite possibly be ... the first day ... of the rest of my life.

... like a drum baby don't stop beating ...

Gone, Gone, Gone by Phillip Phillips

www.lifelessons-mj.blogspot.com

(c) August 2013

Feather ... wise

One morning last week ... I set out knowing that the day's adventures ... were going to feel like
deja vu.  Funny, I know ... premeditated karma ... or something like that.

Coffee ... conversations ... riding together from place to place ... opportunity to opportunity ... with the top down.  Laughter ... lots of laughter ... intertwining with the plotting ...
the plans ... the dreams.

It felt like old times & it was re-assuring to discover that some of those things ... weren't really imaginary  ... after all.  The more things change ... the more they stay the same.
I found comfort in that.

This time, the boundaries ... will be the fences ... that have replaced so many of my walls.

The temperature soared over 100 degrees outside, so it became necessary to put the top up in order to remain fresh into the afternoon.  Top up ... windows shut ... a/c on.
No possible way for a natural breeze to reach inside. 

It must have been the winds of change ... that carried the little feather ... leaving it on the floorboard ... over there on the passenger side ... that had been vacated hours before.

A simple black feather.

It startled me ... when I glanced over and saw it resting on the floor mat.  And I wondered ... how in the world ... did it get there?!?!

How in the world, indeed.

I figured that surely it must have blown in while the top was down.

... the voice of truth ... tells me a different story ...

the voice of truth ... says Do Not Be Afraid ...

Under my breath, I was humming along ... to a song that wasn't on the radio ... hearing the words ... as if spoken ... directly to me.  I replayed the afternoon ... from the time the top was put up ... to the deployment of my passenger ... to right that very minute.

There was no way possible ... that the little feather had been there ... undetected.

I left it there for the rest of the day ... undisturbed.  Later in the evening, I took a picture of it ... thinking I would post it on Facebook to see what kind of response I got. I know I have at least one friend there who has some feather awareness.

But then ... for some reason ... I didn't.  I kept it to myself.

Of course, I did do a little bit of online research .. to satisfy my inquiring mind.

A feather is one way angels try to get your attention.  A black feather is a sign of a stronger attempt to reach you.

Feathers, in general, indicate ascension to a higher spiritual plane. One feather tradition revolves around prayer.  In Christianity, feathers represent virtues ... such as ... faith ... hope ... love.

Hold the phone! Faith, Hope & Love.  Really?!?

My three little angel bears ... that sit in my kitchen window on their tiny little porch swing ... have been vying for my attention for over a week!  First they turned their little swing around ... so that they were perched there with their backs to me.  Then when I tried to readjust the strings holding the swing ... one of them frayed completely ... dumping Faith, Hope & Love ... unceremoniously into the sink.

It was an awkward moment.  I wasn't sure what to make of it ... even though I know that the age of the swing & its strings make it totally believeable that it was just something that happened ... naturally.

The three little angel bears ... have a story of their own.  They showed up one year ... in the mid 90s ... on the front seat of my car ... on my birthday.  Three sweet pastel bears with satin rosebuds on their collars ... angel wings intact ... tags attached declaring their names.

A plain card was across their laps. "Faith. Hope. Love.  These ARE you!  Happy Birthday!"

Finding them there ... was one of those awe & wonder moments ... that take your breath away.

It was obviously a gift from someone who knew me well ... knew that I have always collected bears ... and that angels have been given to me since birth ... when my father declared me his ...
angel fluff.

Years have passed ... and the mystery is still unsolved.  Those who would seem the most likely suspects ... have admitted time after time .... that they wished it was them  ... who had surprised me with such a special gift ... but it wasn't.

The little swing didn't come with the bears.  I found it on my own.  But for well over a decade Faith, Hope & Love have been a-swingin' in my kitchen windows ... and now they've bailed on me.

Let go of the past ... was the first thing that came to mind when it happened.  Just now it occurred to me that maybe they are simply longing for a new window ... with a different view.

According to legend, when you find a black feather, it means that your guardian angel is near you. The feather is supposed to remind you that you are not fighting the battles of life alone
 
A presence ... is present.

Last weekend, on two separate occasions, I was alone in a room in my house while others were elsewhere ... when I strongly felt that I wasn't alone in the room ... that someone was waiting patiently and quietly for me to acknowledge them.  Turning ... I fully expected to see one of the others in the house standing there.

Both times.  I was alone.

Another entry suggested that black feathers relate more to the soul than other feather colors ... and that finding one indicates that you are entering a new level of spiritual awareness.

And there was this one that caused me to raise an eyebrow ... Native Americans say black feathers are an invitation to send a spiritual message for help or answers.  Which really means ... pray.

It's certainly in keeping with all of the little tickles of the last couple of weeks ... the not-so-subtle insinuations that is God waiting with the answers ... on me  ... to ask the question.
  
Angels are often sent to help us. Because we have free will, they cannot step in to help unless we ask.  That's what the next source offered up.

I wonder, could it be that simple?  A bolder... more deliberate nudge ... for me to ask the question ... because God is waiting to reveal the answers?

At Signs of Angels, Karen Borga has a video on Receiving Black Feathers From Angels.  Watching it, I was reminded that technology today allows anyone ... who has the desire ... to be a celebrity expert ... about something.  Don't they know that staring into the camera ... unprepared & rambling for more than 5 minutes ... really isn't a great way to convey information?!?

I only lasted about 2.5 minutes but did come away with this insight.  Karen says that a black feather is a sign that some situations are coming up that are going to change you at a soul level.  And that your angels are letting you know that they are with you ... that they have your back.

That's especially reassuring.  I am pretty sure that once the answers come ... the what's-coming-next that I've been waiting on ... is going to wash over my life like a monsoon ... rushing me forward ... even if I find that I am not really ready.

Another source put it this way .... a black feather is a gift to let you know that someone close to you perhaps even as a child is present and watching over you.

Interesting.  Verrrrrry in-ter-esting!
 
More Friday nights than not, I play cards with a group of friends.  It's been going on now for several months.  These are new friends ... who have no connection to my past.  Well, one does in a round about way ... but that's not part of this story.

Card night is held at the home of our host couple.  The play is lively and competitive. The husband is particularly focused ... he takes winning very seriously.  Time has proven that I am a skilled opponent & a worthy adversary.

It keeps things interesting.

Pretty much, we all sit in the same chairs each time.  And he labels the score columns with our first initials ... in order ... beginning with the player on his left.

Friday night ... the cards weren't coming his way.  It wasn't me that was getting them. But I always sit on his right ... so his cards are often coming through my hand. And I am always the ONE he wants to beat.

Intense as the play often gets ...it's a friendly, casual game ... with lots & lots of distractions ... and breaks.  After returning from one of those breaks, he began a fresh score sheet for the next game.

As the cards were being dealt, I glanced over and noticed that in the first two columns were the initials of the other two players as usual.  In our columns ... it was obvious by the number of letters ... that "names" were written.  

Above his column was WINNER.  Of course.  That's what he wrote there.  Declaring the victory in advance.  My column header was something else.  It was a compound word ... S____H____.  

Even though it wasn't SweetHeart ... I knew that it was a term of endearment. And more importantly, it let me know that over time I had been accepted as a friend.

I waited to point it out ... until mid-way through the game.  It was good for a laugh all around.  And maybe it was a good strategy, too ... he DID eventually win the last game of the night.

It was the wee hours of the morning, when I finally got settled somewhere.  Sleep wasn't going to happen ... so in the quiet, I opened my mind to pondering the events of the day.

Most of the afternoon had been spent poring over the papers of a former Arkansas governor ... on a treasure hunt ... searching for clues to confirm that what I remembered about one of my father's stories was actually based on fact ... and not fiction.

The discovery ... was mind-blowing.  What had always seemed like just another hand poorly played ... turns out to be an epic case of knowing-when-to-hold-em-and-knowing-when-to-fold-em.

Amongst the papers ... was a well-crafted letter ... about integrity ... and doing the right thing for the greater good ... that was sent as he pushed away from that particular table.  I remember later that he told me that what seemed to be just another one of his failed attempts ... was actually his greatest achievement.  Time has proven him right.

Discovering that he really & truly was who he said he was ... after all these years ... reminded me again of one of those lessons I learned from playing cards.

A hand well-played ... is far more memorable ... than simply being dealt a winning hand.

I cut my teeth on card games.  Lessons in life were learned over hands of spades, hearts, poker, gin rummy ... and a game that one of my high school friends had written on a folded up note that he carried in his wallet.  

Strategy. Playing to win. Respecting a worthy opponent. 

Thinking back to the card games of my youth ... my mind's eye wandered to the score sheets of my father.  Much like my host earlier in the evening, my father always kept score.  It somehow made him feel in control of the table.

He had his own style of doing it.  Instead of initials at the top of the columns ... he drew icons.  Each of us had a special icon that he created uniquely for us. Yet another reminder that ole R.J. was way ahead of his time.  He drew personal icons ... before icons were cool. 

I don't remember what all of them were ... but mine ... was always a tomato.  

A tomato ... that's what he called good looking gals when he was talking to the boys.  He never said it ... but my guess is that I was always a TOMATO to remind the boys that even though I was nothing more than a sister to them ... I was still something special ... and beautiful ... to the world.

And dad ...he was ALWAYS ... the black hat.  The often misunderstood "bad" guy ... never to be mistaken with the boring, predictable play of the "good" guy.

Wide awake ... in the middle of the night ... I could see the little black hat ... on skads and skads of score sheets.  Funny.  I haven't thought about those card playing days in a long time.  My father ... he's been gone for 27 years.

Did I mention that when I brought the black feather in from the floorboard of the car ... that it wasn't real.  It was one of those stiff plastic feathers ... much like the type you would find in a child's Indian headdress ... or something like that.

It has puzzled me all week.  There seemed to be some logic to finding a bird's feather in my car ... since I spend so much of the time with the top down.  But a fake feather?  That does not compute.

Driving later, in the early morning light, those images of the black hat ... on the score sheets ... fluttered through my mind ... once again.  It was like when you would draw a picture ... over and over ...  on the sheets of one of those little pocket notebooks ... then riffle the pages with your thumb ... to make your own cartoon ... 

 There it was ... cartoon Jerry's black hat ... with the crooked arrow ... poking through from back to front ... taking on a life of it's own.  That's when I saw it ... the black feather.

As usual, I was blindsided ... by the punchline.  There is no doubt who left the black feather in my car.  It was R.J. (Jerry) himself.  And, of course, he left one that wasn't real.  It's dead giveaway. Pun intended.

He's NO angel ... after all.

Together we laughed ... my father ... and I ... and my best friend, God, Creator of the Universe ... for miles and miles.  And I cried a little bit, too.

A black feather is a much stronger message than a white feather.  I totally get it.

White feathers are the most common of angel gifts.  If an angel wants to draw your attention to the fact that it is there, it will leave a little white feather in an unexpected place. It means simply, "I am around.  Everything will be ok."  

It really wasn't terribly surprising ... that I found two little white feathers ... upstairs on the landing ... beside my big plant in the window ... this morning.  Still ... it took my breath away.

With awe & wonder, I bent down to examine them. 
I never want to lose the breathless awe & wonder.

There is really no explanation for those feathers being there.  Sure I have a feather pillow on one of the beds.  And when the pillowcase is changed ... little feathers flutter out. The pillow is no where near the landing nor has it's case been changed in the last few days.

Still ... I went to the bed ... shook out a few feathers ... and carried them back to the landing.  For comparison.  There was nothing similar about the pillow feathers and the white feather duo on the floor.  Imagine that.

A little more research tells me ... that white feathers are also a sign of a fresh start.

Each angel visit is as unique as the person visited. The best answer I found about what it all means ... the black feather ... the two white feathers ... is to find the answer by seeking within myself and to always go with my gut.

It is just a matter of believing, letting go, and staying aware.

...so I will listen ... and believe ... the voice of truth ... YOU are ... the voice of truth. 

www.lifelessons-mj.blogspot.com

(c)August 2013

Puzzlement

It started with a reference to MY puzzle pieces. 
The ones I carry around in a plastic bag.

And my never ending arranging ... and re-arranging ... in the hopes of finding ways for them all to fit together.  Creating a perfect picture ... or picture perfect ... life.

Trouble is ... all of my puzzle pieces are random.  Discovered on the floor ... under a pillow ... in the bottom of a bag ... lost & alone ... missing from assorted original boxes.

That's how it came to pass ... on a Sunday afternoon ... that we were a-puzzling.

I shared the story of Jessi's amazing ability to put together large, complicated puzzles.  How she could arrange the pieces to form the pictures ... before she could ever talk to us.
She's a puzzle savant. 

"Bring on a puzzle ... with a whole lot of pieces ... and let me show you how fast I can put it together!" With those words boldly spoken ... he threw the gauntlet down ... and the game was on.

The selection was made from a variety of scenes.  It was a good one. 
And all of the pieces were in the box!

It was interesting to see how differently we approached the art of puzzling.

He studied the picture on the box.  Arranging the pieces in assorted areas ... by color and location in the picture.  And by ferreting out the straight edges.

Not wanting to hinder his progress, I decided to toy with the border pieces ... leaving him to his sorting & arranging. That would not have been my normal way of starting. 

Thinking outside of the box ... added a delightful dimension to the challenge at hand.

Once most of the border was pieced together I decided to tackle the "structure" closest to me. 
The Corolla lighthouse, it was ... and once it began to emerge on the tabletop ... it became MY "structure".  Right away it was established that the number of completed "structures" was one
score keeping measure.

It was a competition, after all.


My puzzling strategy involves colors, shapes & textures.  Once the pieces are on the table, I rarely look at the box again.  Gathering pieces that seem to belong together, I begin to discover the picture as it emerges ... from making the connections. 

Typically, I am a little scattered ... bouncing from one area to another ... drawn by the allure of one piece here ... a different piece there.

We were spending Sunday afternoon ... surrounded by several hundred puzzle pieces.  He in his methodical visual way ... and me operating from an intuitive tactile vantage point ... testing our ability to put something together ...

Together.

Watching him was fascinating to me.  He would pick up a piece ... examine it closely.  Than he would hold up the box lid ... placing the cut-out next to the picture ... moving it from place to place ... as if his artist's eye could identify each individual shape in it's exact spot ...that way.

Then he would place it on the table saying confidently, "There.  It goes right there."  
And most of the time, it did. 

Go. Right. There.

"You know, what God has planned for each of us is far more amazing than anything we could imagine on our own."

That's what I said to him sometime or other during the course of the afternoon. It was a distraction ... diverting his focus from the task at hand. 

I am known for that. Interrupting. Distracting. Pushing the envelope. Asking the hard questions.


Random, it was ... what I offered up.  It's the only explanation I have for believing the mismatched puzzle pieces ... that I carry around in that plastic bag ... are designed to somehow fit together ... creating a perfect picture ... of my life ... complete with all that God has planned for me.

The desire of my heart. That's what God wants me to have. I know for sure because He promised.

If I only knew what that looks like ... the desire of my heart.  Makes me wish I was a box-lid kinda gal at times ... but then again, it would spoil the surprise ... and God knows ... I love surprises!

He wired me that way.

As the afternoon progressed ... I completed the most "structures" ... while he concentrated on sections that made up the background & details ... the subtle things that make the picture complete. 

It was satisfying ... and special ... when the work he had done ... so easily fit ... with the work I had done. I mused once again ...

"Instead of always grousing at God for not giving us what it is we think we want, maybe we should ask God to give us the things He wants us to have."

He said he'd never heard anyone put it quite like that before. 

www.lifelessons-mj.blogspot.com

(c) July 2013

A Darker Shade of Pale

A spray tan.  Seriously, what was I thinking?!?!

The idea was to give a little color to my lily-white legs ... offering up the confidence to wear a cute little dress to the party ... without spending the evening thinking everyone was secretly laughing at my pasty limbs.

Top-down weather brings a terrific natural color to my face and upper body ... still ... there's the legs.  Always below the dashboard when driving ... never receiving the benefits of the sun's kiss ...it makes it awkward & problematic when I decide to wear shorts or dresses with no hose.

My past attempts at imitation tanning products have always been a disaster ... consequently I have always shied away from a spray tan. Tanning products have always left my skin splotchy ... or orange-ish.  Never a good color ... or any shade even remotely natural looking.  Most of the time the only enhancement has been making my myriad of freckles darker ... causing a comical polka-dotty outcome.



Still ...Every day I watch as the variety of people come out of the tanning booth ... delighted with the results.  And I think ... "Hmmm.  Maybe that's the solution to my white-leg-syndrome."

A boost of confidence is what I was looking for yesterday .... so I figured, "What the heck!  It's worth a shot!"

And, you know, for just a few hours last night ... in the twilight ... it seemed to work.

Pause.

That's been the word-of-the-day for a couple of weeks now.  It's shown up in various places ... and pretty much every single specific message ... from quotes to horoscopes to God Wants Me To Know to direct MJ hits from the established double-team ... has offered up a bit of wisdom that involved slowing down ... taking time out ... pausing.

One day last week, as I wandered through the minefield that is my house right now, I picked up a book.  It's one that I haven't gotten around to reading yet.  I just keep moving it from room to room ... spot to spot ... thinking, If I leave it right here ...or right there ... I will be more likely to pick it up.

And pick it up I did. Three times in one day.  Each time, I randomly opened it ... to take in whatever was there on the page.  You see, I didn't have time to start reading it for real yet.  I just wanted to see what was going to be there for me ... when time allowed.

A sneak peak, if you will.

A brand-new book.  Never been read by anyone.  No likelihood of an impression made in the spine due to the frequent opening to one specific spot ... or creasing from time spent there.

Yet, each time it fell open to the same place.  It was mid-way through a chapter.  The title of the chapter was at the top of the page. The book?  Cure for the Common Life by Max Lucado.

Pause On Purpose

The first time it happened ...it made me smile.  The second time it happened ... I knew that it was important.  And the third time, well, I wept ... because the weariness of my soul was exposed there ... impossible to ignore any longer.

People brought Jesus more than sick bodies and seeking souls.  They brought Him agendas. Itineraries. Unsolicited advice. "Heed us," they said. "We'll direct your steps." They say the same to you.  Look over your shoulder, my friend.  The crowd is one step back.  Still, they seem to know more about your life than you do.  Where you should work. Who you should spend time with.  What you should do.  
They will lead your life if you let them.

There was more, of course ...

Christ repeatedly left the crowd to hear the voice of God.  
He resisted the undertow of the people by anchoring to the rock of His purpose:  
employing His uniqueness everywhere He could.  
He said No to good things so He could say Yes to right things.  

In other words ... Jesus ... paused.

Tomorrow is a big day.  All weekend, Jessi has defiantly stated ... "I DON'T want to talk about it ... until tomorrow!"

The key will be picked up.  The door will be unlocked.  And both of us will move through it knowing that life as we know it will never be the same. 

It's a good thing.  Still ... change is hard ... and stress-inducing. Even when it's positive.

Jessi told her sister that she is ... "a brave girl" ... weeks ago. She is drawing on her inner strength ... courage ... and faith as the days continue to move us along to ... tomorrow.

This morning she was in the den singing ... loudly ... "It is well ... with my soul!"

Of course, she's singing the Selah version.  It's a favorite of hers.  It's also a favorite of mine.

Following her lead, I went to find the video for my own enjoyment.  (It Is Well With My Soul by Selah)   I've watched this particular video hundreds of times. And once again, Selah was speaking straight to my heart with the song. 

Singing a long ... I was stunned when it reached the middle.  Todd's performance was full of power & determination ... he was deliberately turning his body from left to right ... right to left ... in a rhythm that conveyed ... confidence.

It was the same rhythmic movement that I was instructed to use yesterday ... to garner an even spray tan. "Just start the turning motions, MaryJane, before the spray starts ... then don't be distracted when the first cold blast hits you ... keep turning from side-to-side." 

Those were my instructions.  I followed them to a "t".  It was the sure-fire way to achieve a perfect spray tan.  And that fake tan ... was going to bolster my confidence as I ventured into an uncertain situation.  That was the plan at any rate.

Seeing Todd ... turning & swaying ... this morning ... it struck me.  Confidence isn't a temporary outward appearance thing.  True confidence comes from knowing that you are doing exactly what God wants you to do.  It's an outward sign of inner peace and obedience.  It's radiance and glow come from the heart of one who is fully alive and real and genuine.

As always, the laughter filled the room as my best friend, God, Creator of the Universe whispered ... again ... "Pause, MJ.  Stop listening to the crowd.  Listen to me."

For the record ... the turning movement works great for Todd.  It exudes confidence ... and conviction.  It declares ... "Look at me!  I am living out of my passion ... sharing my unique gifts with the world ... doing exactly what God wants me to do!"

For me, not so much.  Epic spray tanning fail.

This morning everything about the color appears uneven ... unnatural ... and all of my freckles are darker and more pronounced ... splotchy.  Sigh. Polka-dotty mess.

  

Pause. 

It's taken more than a few gentle nudges for me to get it.  
 I can be focused ... and stubborn ... like that.

Find a quiet time.  For reflection ... re-evaluation ... a recapturing of purpose. It's important.  I am moving into uncharted territory, after all.  And I will need all of the confidence I can muster.

I was totally unprepared for that twisting, turning blindside this morning. So I will search my heart over the next few weeks ... discovering ... or maybe re-discovering ... the truths & strength that are hiding there.

A visit to a different church for a different form of worship ... left me wide open for the reminder that God always knows where I am ... and that I am a constant source of amusement to Him.

As I headed out ... I left Him shaking His head & chuckling aloud ...

"Seriously, MJ?!?!  A spray tan?!?!

www.lifelessons-mj.blogspot.com
(c) May 2013

Danger Zone

I am tired.

And my feet hurt.  From standing up ... so much of the time ... lately.

One of my current gigs ... involves me using a dryer ... in a laundry room ... as a desk. I stand up next to it ... and attempt to do my work ... in between the folding of the towels.

 And most of the time it's running.

The last couple of days ... involved 10 hour stretches in a trade show booth ... that involved ... running as well.

That's why my feet hurt.  And I am tired.

Tired typically brings out the lonely in me.  It's awkward and uncomfortable.  And at times it causes me to reach out in random ways ... that leave me a little vulnerable.

This time was no different.  Someday ... it will be different ... maybe.  Just not today.

Donald suggested that I visit www.beautysalonsink.com because he was sure that would be where I would find a shampoo sink to install in the bathroom as I continue to remodel.  It struck me as funny ... when he said it.

Actually, it's a brilliant idea ... and something that would bring great joy to my household.
 So today ... I went there.  And, of course, it ... the website ... didn't exist.

Somehow that would have been too simple.

At church this morning, Del spoke of living out of your spirit ... being who God created you to be.  Definitely my kind of message.  Yet, my mind wandered.  I simply couldn't focus.

Not today.  I am tired. Feeling a little overwhelmed.  And alone.

The punchline managed to capture my attention.

We spend all of this time trying to find ourselves

when all we really need is to be reminded who we are ...

Or something like that.

It resonated deeply.  It was a simple paraphrase of the theme from the conversation I had last night ... when I played the "I-am-lonely-and-I've-had-a-glass-of-wine-so-I-am-calling-you" game.

There's a validation in there ... somewhere ... I am sure.  If I ponder it long enough.

Tired.  And lonely.  Often make me a little afraid as well.

What if I am traveling down the wrong path?  What if what I am doing isn't really what I am supposed to be doing at all?  What if I am really NOT touching lives ... making a difference?

Abbi posted a picture after her walk on the beach today.  In her hand were her beach glass treasures.  The first find of the day was a lovely piece of blue.

That was one of the first ways God shared smiles with me as my adventure in faith began.  I would walk on the beach ... and talk outloud ... and I would know that I was being validated ... when I would chance up on a piece of blue beach glass.

And so it was today ... I chanced upon Abbi's piece of blue ... in the midst of my shilly-shallying.

A phone call from a new friend ... brought a balm of kindness.  There was no way she could have known ... how important her words were going to be to me ... or how desperately I needed to hear them ... today.

Then I wandered downstairs ... and into the closing scenes of  TOP GUN.

I sat in the chair and wept.  You see, I AM Maverick. 

I have confidence.  I know that I am good at what I do.  There's a difference between confidence & arrogance.  Confidence is grounded in faith & belief.  Arrogance, on the other hand, is pompous & pretentious.

Confidence can be shaken.  That's what happens to Maverick.  That's what's happening to me.

I have ghosts ... that haunt me.  I have high ideals ... high standards ... that are seemingly impossible to live up to at times. Mine is a legacy of insecurity & self-doubt.  I am searching for the desires of my heart ... knowing that I have no idea what those desires look like or where to begin to find them.

Like Maverick ... I have had setbacks ... have let others down ... have failed in epic fashion.  In other words, I have crashed & burned.  I have lost confidence ... questioned my worth ... found myself paralyzed by fear.

Even though I know it's coming ... it always stirs my soul when ... Maverick re-engages.  When he stops over-thinking ... and instinctively does ... what he was born to do.

In that moment ... lives are touched ... differences are made ... and he finally finds his way home.

Highway to the danger zone
I'll take you
Ridin' into the danger zone

You'll never say hello to you
Until you get it on the red line overload
You'll never know what you can do
Until you get it up as high as you can go

Danger Zone by Kenny Loggins

Dinner with a friend ... and a friend-of- my-friend.  In less than a hour, stories were shared ... of great joy and great sorrow.  My best friend, God, Creator of the Universe joined us there.

He laughed with us.  The messages were so clear.  And so was the Truth.

She ... the friend of my friend ... told me about her comic book boyfriend.  He inks stories about a super-hero ... of sorts.  The storyline involves the death of a man in a church fire.  He is later reborn and wanders around, totally disfigured, in search of his truth.  He touches people and is then tortured by the sins of those he touches. 

The Man of God.  

That's the name of the comic book ... that the friend-of-my-friend told me about at dinner.

 I kid you not.

"Have I not commanded you, be strong and courageous. 

 Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged, 

for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go." 

 ~ Joshua 1:9 

I am still tired.  Lonely. Vulnerable.  Wandering around ... touching people ... on the road that leads to nowhere ... the highway to the danger zone..

 

www.lifelessons-mj.blogspot.com

(c) March 2013

Two Girls ...

January 1978.  It was 25 years ago ... maybe even to the day.

Two girls met.  On a college campus ... where both attended.  In a sorority house ... where both were initiated.  Two girls ... in a place ... where neither belonged. It was totally random.

The one girl wanted to be friends with the other girl because ... she was beautiful ... intelligent ... full of laughter ... bright ... motivated ... fun.  The other girl was everything the one girl wanted to be ... she was hoping that some of all that would rub off on her ... if they became friends.

The other girl wanted to be friends with the one girl ... for all of the same reasons.

And friends they became.  Then sisters. Once the whole sisterhood thing lost it's luster ... they simply claimed ... family.  

Both were searching ... for themselves ... for a place that felt like home.

One ran away ... beckoned by the green grass over yonder ... always managing to bloom where she was planted ... even if it was just for a short while ... before she wandered again ... never seeming to get ... where she wanted to be going.

The other simply ran ... in place.  Faster and faster ... with an equal amount of determination ... yet never seeming to get ... where she wanted to be going.

Both lost their way.  And at times ... each of them ... were plain & simply lost.

One was chasing a dream ... the other was racing against the wind ... and then ... one was racing against the wind ... the other was chasing a dream ...

Round and round ... the hamster wheels would go.

Through the years ... neither time nor distance nor life ... destroyed the connection between the two girls.  The friendship was always there ... waiting ... an oasis of encouragement & love ... providing refreshment whenever the opportunity for a reunion presented itself.

Once ... when they were still young ... they took a vacation together.  A scenic roadtrip ...
down A1A ... then sailing windjammer style from island to island ... before life overwhelmed then.
It was epic.

Jobs ... relationships  ... children ... bad choices .. good choices ... deaths ... families ... all came into the mix. Natural fertilizer ... was an abundant byproduct of both of their lives ... enough to sustain the most ample of gardens ... at any given time.
 
Nothing ever came easy for these girls. Even though it often seemed that it did ... to those on the outside looking in.

Along the way, the one ... she decided to share her life with someone ... it turned out to be not so good. The other one ... she found a him ...to share life with, too. 
Against all odds ... together they created something good.

There's a lot more to their story.  Parts of it aren't pretty. 

January 2013.  In a smallish church ... in an out-of-the-way crossroads of a town ... the man stopped the one girl on the way in.

He, too, has some stories ... not surprising, really.  Each life unfolds in different ways ... yet the stories are pretty much the same.

"I had a chance to reconnect with an old friend this week," the man said.  "It seems he is a mutual friend ... a friend of yours,too."

The one girl paused ... trying to imagine ... who in the world that could be. Most of their mutual friends were found in the circles of recent years ... from this place she lives in now ... and would not involve a reconnection for the man.  You see, the man's hamster wheel had been stationery for a lifetime of years ... lots of activity ... all in the same spot.

Turns out ... the mutual friend ... is the he ... the one that's married to the other she.  Seems the man ... and the he ... had a friendship of sorts some 20 years ago ... probably about the same time the two girls ... were getting lost ... trying to find themselves.

The man and the he ... their friendship simply faded away ... for no real reason. Their circumstances changed ... and the casual, friendly encounters ... were no longer a part of their routines.

Each thought of the other from time to time ... reflecting on the loss of the warm connection ... wondering, occasionally, why he had been dropped ... by the other.

The he ... went through some stuff.  He thought maybe that was the cause of the disconnect.  The man went through some stuff, too.  Turns out ... none of the stuff ... had a dadgum thing to do with anything.

Time passed.  Life had it's ups.  Life had it's downs.
And the he ... and the man ... thought of each less and less.

Until sometime last week ... when the he ... saw the man's name ... on the friend list ... of the one girl ... who is like family ... to the other girl ... who is his wife.

A reconnection was made ... by the man and the he ... and the stirrings of a warm friendship were rediscovered there ... buried under all of the years of disconnect.

I have been wondering ... for quite a while ... why I am still here ... in this place that doesn't feel like home. The gypsy in me has been longing to seek  a new adventure ... somewhere else ... anywhere but here. The reasons that made sense in the first place ... to be here ... have long since been replaced by hurts & disappointments.

The whispers have been persistent ... consistent ... and the one girl ... she has no choice but to listen:  Be still.  Wait.  Don't get ahead of yourself. Take time to heal.  There's still a reason for you ... to be ... here.

Twenty-five years ago ... maybe to the day ... two girls met ... and the bread of life has created a trail from all of their crumbs ... scattered haphazardly across the years ... leading two men to reconnect ... in the here & now. God's perfect timing.

Maybe, just maybe ... that's the reason ... why I am still here.
Synchronicity.


www.lifelessons-mj.blogspot.com (c)January 2013

A little Jesus ...

It was a random thought ... following the annual family discussion at Thanksgiving about Christmas plans.

Are we going to do rattle gifts?  When? Where?  For whom do I get to buy a rattle gift? And what about Christmas Eve? Christmas Day?  Who will be here?  What will we eat?

Eventually getting around to ... maybe we should just draw names this year ... and the specter of holiday meltdown filled the room.

This year, I had already made up my mind to simply go with the flow ... where Christmas was concerned.  Whatever anyone wanted to do ... that was going to make Christmas feel special for them ... was what I was going to do.  So even though I love giving gifts ... I said, "Sure.  Name drawing works for me."

After much discussion it was discovered that once the dots were all connected between the people who would reasonably be involved in ... the name-drawing ... and gift giving ... it wasn't actually possible to implement such a plan.

Parents were, of course, always going to have gifts for their children.  And since all of the children are adults ... except for one & she's almost grown ... there was no way the children weren't going to have gifts for the parents.  And sisters & brothers & sisters exchanges were going to fall outside of the name-drawing rule.  In the end ... there wasn't anyone in our immediate circle of family that anyone could sincerely agree not to remember with a gift.

The message was loud and clear ... Christmas is all about the gifts.

I came away from the discussion ... feeling empty. Hoping this was going to be the year that I finally rediscovered the Christmas feeling ... it was devastating to discover that somehow the sanitizing of the meaning of Christmas had finally crept into my family.

And as I drove away, the radio station that was dedicated to playing Christmas music ... only ... from mid-November to December 25 ... was wearing me out with repetitive renditions of popular secular holiday music.  You know ... all of our favorite artists ... past & present ... singing about snowmen, reindeer, chestnuts, loneliness, love, snow ... and being home for Christmas ...

*Sigh*  "Home" is all I've wanted for Christmas ... my entire life ...

Singing along ... about the dismay of merry gentlemen ... and Santa Claus ... I caught myself thinking: How about a carol or two?!?!  You know ... the songs that are really about Christmas ... all of those same popular artists have recorded them ... Hark The Herald Angels Sing ... What Child Is This? ... The First Noel ... Mary, Did You Know? ... O Holy Night ...  seriously ... buy the Christmas cds ... the songs are all there side-by-side with Sleigh Ride ..."

How about a little Jesus?!?!

I said it outloud ... in the car.  Jessi & Donald stopped singing ... looked at me ... and then Jessi said, "Whatever, Mom.  Christmas is all about Jesus."

And that's when it hit me ... all of us needed ... a little Jesus!

In that moment the idea was born.  In the end, it was the only thing that got me through the season.

Since the crux of the earlier conversation had been ... the number of gifts to be bought ... and how much to spend  ... I decided that this year everyone on my list ... was going to get ... the same thing ... and I was only going to spend $10 total on each one.

The day after Thanksgiving ... the search began ... for little Jesus'.

At first I wasn't sure how to go about it.  So I simply went to ebay and typed in "baby Jesus" ... and shazaam!  The offerings were staggering!

Mixed in with all types of pictures, pins, figurines and other religious items ... were tons of little lost baby Jesus'.  You know, the ones that somehow got separated from their manger scene family over the years ... much like Jesus, the young lad, who wandered off from his parents after Passover only to be found back in the temple where their journey had started. (Luke 2:39-52)

"Why were you searching for me?" Jesus asked his parents "Didn't you know I'd be in my Father's house?"

Over the years, I have collected several manger scenes.  And I have always kept a small creche around ... in a bathroom ... on a window sill ... on a shelf ... even when it wasn't Christmas.

A sub-conscious reminder, I guess, that ... I needed a little Jesus ... every single day ... not just at Christmas.  It made me smile to think that maybe this was something that had been stirring in my heart for quite a bit of time .. and that possibly ... it was bigger than me.

Between Thanksgiving and the week before Christmas Day, I began each day with a search for baby Jesus ... and I ended each day the very same way.

There were so many choices.  Plaster, ceramic, metal, wooden ... itty bitty - tiny - small - medium - large- lawn-sized ... serious, sweet, childlike, angelic, simple ... Italian, German, Spanish, American  ... a plethora of baby Jesus' ... simply waiting to be found.

It was mind-boggling.  Each one selected was unique ... some special ones were passed over when the bidding caused the total expense to exceed $10. Some were most likely worth far more than I paid for them ... 

It was MY adventure ... I dreamed it up, after all ... and then deliberately set out to make a bold statement to the people most important to me ... this year ... through the simple gift.

As always, it totally caught me offguard when it turned out to be more a part of MY journey ... then it was about the actual gifts themselves.

Soon after the first purchases were made, the boxes began arriving.  At first it was one every couple of days ... then it became a box every day ... then 2 or 3 waiting for us every afternoon.

And I DO mean ... waiting for us.  Jessi very quickly became fascinated with the little Jesus'.  Together we opened each one ... and ooohed ... and aaahed ... over the design, the craftsmenship, the holiness of each individual piece.

Each one begging the question ... "Why were you looking for me?  Don't you know you will always find me where my Father lives?"

Too special to tuck away ... the little Jesus' soon littered the counter in the kitchen. Precious ... every single one ... yet we both had our favorites.  And the very few friends that I shared my story ... and the blessing ... with as it was unfolding ... each of them had their favorites, too.

At first I was going to try to choose a little Jesus ... especially for each person on my list.  Then after a gentle nudge or two ... I was reminded that all of us are seeking ... in our own ways ... and when Jesus shows up, it's always in response to the needs, the cries, the desires of the individual heart.

 That's why there are so many interpretations of baby Jesus, I guess ... because we're all different ... yet He is faithfully the same.

I put off wrapping them for as long as possible.  Knowing that I was going to miss them ... when I passed them along.  Eventually each one was wrapped ... some in beautiful holiday paper ... others tucked into festive gift bags.
The packages were uniquely different ... just like the Jesus inside ... yet every gift was the same.

I had beautiful cards ... for each recipient ... with the same handwritten message ... "Here's a little ... Jesus.  He's not just for Christmas!"  I tossed the cards and packages into a giant holiday shopping bag ... and as each one was delivered ... the loved one selected whichever one appealed to them.

You see ... I decided it was much like fortune cookies ... each one would be instinctively drawn to the little Jesus that was meant for them.

A couple were shared before Christmas Eve.  The majority, however, were for my family that would be gathering to rattle gifts on the eve ...
and exchange gifts on the day.

Somehow ... Christmas took on a life of it's own this year.  And by Christmas Eve ... it was totally out-of-control.  Let's be real.  Every family has some dysfunction.  Honest, they do.  And the holidays tend to bring all of that ... confusion, chaos, hurt ... to the surface.
My family is no different.

So improvising ... in the face of the meltdown ... I suggested that the Christmas story be read aloud ... to bring our focus back to what was really important.  My sister-in-law began to recite the passage from memory ... as we were turning there in the Bible.

She rushed through it ... as one does who is trying to recite something memorized ... without stopping to think about it too much .. so as not to mess up.  It was very cool.  Then a slower read was shared as a reminder of why we celebrate Christmas in the first place.

I spread my packages on the table ... and each one was invited to choose their own.  I told them these were the only gifts I was giving this year ... and that everyone was getting the same thing. It was an intriguing concept.

One by one they were opened ... along with the cards. It was different.  It was reflective.  It took everyone by surprise.  I honestly don't know whether they all ... got it.  And I am pretty sure that it's not important for me to know ... that's between their hearts and God.

There was the one ... who didn't like their ... little Jesus.  Moving around the room, viewing the ones the others had chosen ... coyly looking for an opportunity to make a swap. It was obvious that somehow ... this one was dissatisfied ... disappointed ... with their gift.

Several packages remained on the table ... intended for friends that I would be seeing at a later time.  I gently said, "If you don't like your little Jesus, you are welcome to exchange it for one of the others on the table.
Each one is different."

The one in the hand ... was a very plain, simple baby in a manager.  Ceramic ... hand-painted ... no halo ... no hand-carving ... no obvious indication that it belonged to a specific line or set.

"Oh, thank you.  You would know that I would get the one that doesn't look like ... Jesus," came the response.  "There are so many gorgeous ones here ... it would be nice to have one that I could love."

On the table were two gift bags ... and two wrapped boxes.  It was agreed that the gift bags could be looked in ... and that if a box was unwrapped, whatever was inside would be kept.

Diving into the first gift bag, a beautiful Fontanini baby Jesus emerged.  Wide-eyed delight was the response.  Still, it was necessary to check-out the other gift bag.  Inside was a
Precious Moments figure ... sweet & pastel ...
always a family favorite.

Weighing one  in each hand, another sweep around the room was made ... making quite a fuss over the decision of which little Jesus to accept.  After much fanfare, it was a superficial little something that sealed the deal.

Later after the holocaust that was Christmas this year ... after the snow ... I shared all but one of the remaining packages with my friends.  The one who randomly selected the rejected little Jesus touched my heart deeply.

He had no way of knowing the story.  He's not familiar with my family.  When he opened his gift ... he beamed. He totally got it.  And he said to me ... "I love this, MaryJane.  He's so plain and simple ... unadorned. He looks exactly the way Jesus would have looked in that stable in Bethlehem. Thank you."

All in all , there were 27 little Jesus' ... what each loved one does with theirs is entirely up to them.  

One of my friends has his little Jesus on a shelf in his office.  Another is riding around in another friend's truck.  The itty bitty baby Jesus is traveling all around the country with two very special people.  One was almost immediately packed away with other Christmas decorations. 

There's one little Jesus still wrapped up in his box.  It has a name on it ... and one of these days, I will see my friend that I have been missing for weeks and weeks ... and deliver it.  And that's ok ...  because whenever that day comes ... it will be right on time ... because ...

Jesus isn't just for Christmas.

www.lifelessons-mj.blogspot.com
(c) January 2013