Delores and Christmas Traditions

Christmas traditions from the entrenched to the new are always such a comfort.  From something small, like a type of Christmas candy showing up at the store to an elaborate family gathering, these events bring back fond memories of times past.

One unintentional tradition at our home is the arrival of the hippomoosasaurus. What is a hippomoossasaurus, you ask with a suspicious tone as you doubt my sanity once again? Let me ‘splain.

One year, one of my daughters and I were perusing the weekly pile of shopping ads that had arrived in the mail. One of these ads had an artful display of various lawn ornaments. There were the usual reindeers, Santas, sleighs, made out of white plastic and covered with lights, then there were the multitudes of blow-up tackiness, cartoon characters, snowmen, etc. etc.

At the edge of the display photo was a strange shaped creature made in the outline of white plastic. It was wearing a red tutu and a garland wreath around its neck. From the picture, I wasn’t quite sure what it was supposed to be. It had a roundish head with a big snout and antlers, like a moose, but then it had a pig-like body, so maybe a hippo or a dinosaur.

I asked my daughter what she thought the creature could be and she too was genuinely confused. So after further ‘serious’ discussion on the matter we decided that it was a hippomoosasaurus and I jokingly made it known that I wanted one of these monstrosities to put on the front lawn so that people driving by would wonder what it was.

A few days later, as silliness usually progresses in my family, the hippomoosasaurus had its own theme song and my daughters had told most of our friends and family about the wonderful mythical amalgamation.

One afternoon as I was cooking dinner, I received a picture of Glory, my middlest, posing with a real hippomoosasauras lit up in all its glory. (Har, bad pun.) “They’d found it!” she texted me excitedly. I sent her back a J and thought nothing more of the matter until my mother and my girls returned home from their shopping trip. And what did they bring me? You guessed it, my very own hippomoosasaur! I was so thrilled and we all broke into a chorus about Delores the hippomoosasaurus, who lives in the forest with Chuck Norris.

So every year, as we ceremonially place our lone lawn ornament atop the birdbath and sing her lovely song, I dwell on how this silly tradition brings up such wonderful memories. Why does the fondness of these traditions bring us such comfort? I believe that traditions unconsciously remind us of our constant and unchanging Heavenly Father. He inventively teaches all the same lessons over and over, in ten-trillion different ways, yet our Wonderful God is constant and unchanging in His love for us year after year.

May your Christmas be merry and filled with Love!

What's Evil?

Many people consider evil depicted as the 'bad guy' in a movie. The antagonist is generally portrayed as power hungry, relentless and a bit off in the head. Oh, and they must laugh maniacally. Muhahahaha! Always gives the bad guy away. Yes, and they wear black and have bad goatees.

Some shows have gone to making the bad guy laughable and dumb, creating a mixture of comic relief and plot tension. Team Rocket, the trolls from The Tenth Kingdom, the hyenas in The Lion King are all amusing, but they tend to be the henchmen of a worse bad guy. Occasionally, these henchmen have a change of heart and turn on their masters, like Kronk in The Emperor's New Groove.

And now, the dressed in white, good guys have been sullied. A lovely new mix to plots in movies is when the protagonist, main character, is also the antagonist to someone they deem as the bad guy. If you think about it, all of the main characters in the Oceans (insert number) movies are bad guys. They aren't forced to steal because a bad guy has taken a family member hostage. No, they choose to steal and do so repeatedly. Whether the person they steal from is a bad guy in his own right or not, really isn't the point.

So, we have bad guys becoming good guys and then good guys turning into bad guys, what message does that subliminally send? It's all good? It's all bad? If you follow your heart, you'll alway head in the right direction, for you?

Seriously? How can a good guy be good if all the moral perimeters have been removed from our society? If there is no right or wrong, only what's best for you, what determines what's best for you? Some innate sense of being good? At what point is the 'best for me' determined by my own selfish desire instead of our idealistic belief that we are good people who just want to love those around us?

"Well, I've always considered myself a good person." What makes you good, your actions, your words? Or do you just feel that you are good in your heart? Wow, sounds like a pile of Disney feel-good nonsense to me.

Let me submit to you another possibility. I'm not a good person. I'm selfish and judgmental. I'm greedy and lazy. I'm hateful, especially when I'm driving, and I'm opinionated. Whether or not you have witnessed the above mentioned faults, they are present in me and sometimes quite dominant. Does that make me a bad guy or a good guy?

Wait, you say, I've met you and you aren't all that bad. True, I am quite amazing, but there is bad a stuff in me, so how can I be a good person? Is there some magical balance of good and bad and, depending on your actions, tips one way or the other? Yin and yang, balance, wax on wax off . . . . .

I'll simple end with this and leave you to draw you own conclusion.

"15 What I don't understand about myself is that I decide one way, but then I act another, doing things I absolutely despise. 16 So if I can't be trusted to figure out what is best for myself and then do it, it becomes obvious that God's command is necessary. 17 But I need something more! For if I know the law but still can't keep it, and if the power of sin within me keeps sabotaging my best intentions, I obviously need help! 18 I realize that I don't have what it takes. I can will it, but I can't do it. 19 I decide to do good, but I don't really do it; I decide not to do bad, but then I do it anyway. 20 My decisions, such as they are, don't result in actions. Something has gone wrong deep within me and gets the better of me every time. 21 It happens so regularly that it's predictable. The moment I decide to do good, sin is there to trip me up. 22 I truly delight in God's commands, 23 but it's pretty obvious that not all of me joins in that delight. Parts of me covertly rebel, and just when I least expect it, they take charge. 24 I've tried everything and nothing helps. I'm at the end of my rope. Is there no one who can do anything for me? Isn't that the real question? 25 The answer, thank God, is that Jesus Christ can and does. He acted to set things right in this life of contradictions where I want to serve God with all my heart and mind, but am pulled by the influence of sin to do something totally different." Romans 7

The Sparklie Elephant in the Room

As I write, the birds outside sit in the budding spring branches singing good morning. 'Winter is over,' they chirp as they gather materials to make themselves nests and get on with their seasonal egg laying duties. Back inside, I listen to their happy songs and imagine them rejoicing over a dirty strand of soft yarn that they discovered. What a soft bed it will make for the hatchlings when they flop screaming out of their cracked shells.

What a lovely picture I paint in my mind, then I remember the weeks of tireless work those same birds will endure as they continuously gather bugs to feed their insistent young. Bleh, work! No such thoughts for me on my day off, I want to enjoy my day. And yet, I am haunted by the ever present mental list of things that need to be done.

Top on my list for three months now, is the sparkly elephant in the room. From where I sit I can't see the branches, but I know that the Christmas tree still patiently waits for me to retire it to the upstairs closet.

In January, the colorful ornaments greeted me with fond Christmas memories when I came through the front door. By February, the tree had magically blended into the decor and I barely noticed its presence as I ran through the day. In March, I devised a plan to pester my daughter who was coming home for Spring Break by telling her that I had presents for her under the Christmas tree. This amused me greatly and gave me a reprieve from the dreaded disassembling.

But Spring Break is over, April has arrived and there sits the tree, the glitz of its Christmas splendor tainted by the gathering dust and even a few cobwebs. My husband has been patient with me since he is quite familiar with the procrastination bug, but mind you, my delay is not an annual occurrence, the tree is generally packed away by mid-January.

So why the procrastination this year? I dwell on this as I remember the lecture I gave to my daughter the night before, about procrastinating on homework. She stood facing me while I sat on the couch and droned on with the same liturgical words she's heard before. What was her view beyond me as I corrected her at 11:00 o'clock at night? That's right, the Christmas tree was probably thumbing it's limbs at her and sticking out it's furry tongue, taunting her to believe that I have no I right to lecture.

I should be mortified, instead I'm amused. God has such awesome ways of teaching us that go beyond lectures and text. My daughter learned that her mother knows how to procrastinate well. Me, what have I learned?

When we procrastinate, we put off to another time, for whatever reason what we could very well do right now. That made me start thinking about my Pastor's message last Sunday. He taught about living in the present, not allowing the past memories or further worries to keep you from living right now. Listening to God and going with the flow of the Spirit where ever this present adventure may lead us.

The scripture in Matthew 6 came to mind, "Do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own." But I was putting things off till tomorrow, not worrying about them, at least I thought.

When we procrastinate, we walk through our day with a list of stuff burdening our minds. If we simply did our 'to-do list' then we would be free from this burden. Instead, we do just as that scripture said, we worry about tomorrow, by choosing not to listen to God in the now. How many of us putter-offers, if we dared to listen right now, would hear Him say, "Just get it done, then you can enjoy the rest of your day."

Instead we prefer to make one excuse or another and do what needs to be done so that we can have fun doing what we would prefer. Hmmm, that convicts my heart. Jesus can't be Lord of my now if I hold back that list of things I would rather not do until tomorrow.

Spiritual Lumberjacks

Are there people in your life that you look at with log-vision? Impossible individuals who make your mind shut down and skin crawl? And ouch, people who you discern have a stronghold that they need to deal with that make them unfit to ministry?
I must confess that there are some people that I just can't or won't receive from. Not because what they share or do is off biblically. Not because they are walking in some hideous sin.
No, I can't receive from them because there is something about them that rubs me the wrong way. The way they pray, something they've said to me in the past that irked me, their hairstyle, their weight, silly external things that somehow corrupt their ministry in my mind because it reveals a deeper attitude, stronghold or sin that they haven't dealt with.
Wow, I'm shallow. Or am I afraid? Afraid that if I receive their 'tainted' interpretation that I would somehow be led astray or worse, fall into the same sin or weakness that they apparently still struggle against.
If I am honest with myself, it's much more the second option than the first. People who bug me the most are those who still struggle with areas or strongholds that I've battled against. Maybe my sensitivity to those folks is actually pointing out that I have yet to gain complete freedom in the same areas that they so obviously still struggle.
Remember the parable about the log and the speck? Yep, seems to me that I have a huge log sticking out of my eyeballs and I have been smacking those poor folks upside the head with it.
Our wrong attitudes towards our speck offenders are made all the more valid in our minds when most people around us agree with our assessment of these odious humans. So, is that proof of their invalidity or is it instead proof of a pandemic stronghold within the body? Ooch!
If we disapprove of these people so adamantly, how do we get to a place where we can bear to view them with grace and compassion? Seems to me we need to, first of all repent, then we need to don some flannel and become spiritual lumberjacks. Take up the chainsaw of repentance, hack off our logs and stop bludgeoning folks with our judgments. Easier said than done, you say. Tell me about it!
Maybe once we start making firewood, we will begin to see the wounds we've inflicted with our self-righteous logs of judgmental doom. Wounds, not only on the offensive folks, but the more severe self inflictions of unforgiveness, self-judgment, guilt, and condemnation that we've heaped on ourselves. We also need to go help our agreeing brothers and sisters remove the log, that our words and attitudes towards the offenders, helped fertilize.
So, to sum up, if something about a person makes you snarl or snap, instead of reacting in your flesh and finding a 'spiritual' justification, try stopping and checking for logs by examining your own heart first.

For Meagan

She staggered down the stairs this morning, her hair a wild mess of dark brown curls. Giving me a groggy wave, she shuffled into the bathroom. I had to smile, as I noticed the pockets of her pajama pants flap at her side because she hadn't bothered to tuck them in when she got dressed for bed.
Waif thin and petite, my soon-to-be twenty-one-year-old daughter had stayed out late with her friends. It had been the last night of spring break before she went back to college.
It's the little things about someone you love, that you miss most when they are away. Those silly untucked pockets, or the way she walks on her tiptoes when she's being goofy at the store. I think of those moments with tender melancholy, now that she has packed up and headed back to school.
Other precious moments of her childhood come to mind. My daughter when she was three, long blond waves of hair obscuring her impish grin as she pinches at the air. Her adoring father had just told her not to get any cuter.
"What are you doing?" we ask with confused amusement as she continues to pluck at the air and gather pretend nothings into her arms.
"I'm getting more cuters," she answered, daring us to stop her.
My husband, never one to turn from a challenge, proceeded to chase Meagan around our tiny living room. Catching her and wrestling her onto the couch, he then snatched the cuters and set them free while my daughter plucked more out of the air.
Finally, he had to explain to her that she had exceeded her cute limit and could not possibly be any cuter or the world just couldn't stand it.
This morning Meagan and I shared coffee at Starbucks and talked about anything that came to mind. Some of our conversation was serious, but most of it was goofy, like a Gilmore Girls script with no plot line attached. Or a series of random movie quotes interspersed with inside jokes that made us laugh, but would mystify any observers.
As we drank coffee, I felt something like mourning, and yet it was sweet. Tears come to my eyes as I think about how precious a treasure she is to me. Those big grey-blue irises outlined in black that grew dark with concern as we sincerely discussed a friend's problem, then twinkled with mischief as she reached across the table and pinched me, just because.
Her life is such a joy to me. Remembering the child she was and seeing the woman she is now becoming. What a blessing it is to see her grow and become, but it's mixed with the bittersweet because she's not that giggling little girl anymore, squealing through the house as she ran from her father.
Disobedient girl, I've told her all her life that she could never grow up, but just like her father she's taken it as a challenge and defies me.
Well, you show me sweetheart, you grow up and become the awesome woman that God created you to be. I love you very much.

Heart's Desire

In this world of politics and posturing, what does unity look like?
In this world of celebrity and ambition, how is compassion expressed?
So much ugliness and hatred, when outward beauty and arrogance are touted as good character qualities.
So little respect, while every facet of life is micro-examined and found lacking.
Integrity, what's that, when a person is considered noble for announcing his differences no matter how perverse?
Wisdom? How is saying that you believe everything wise?

Wow, you might say in agreement, our world is a mess.

Yes, I answer, but I was describing the church.

How have we, the Body of Christ Jesus, become so much like the world?

"Dear Lord, I beseech you, drop the Spirit of repentance upon your bride. Let us not be a bitter whore. Convict our hearts. Cause us to be despondent with grief for how we represent You to a lost and dying world.
May Your Body rise up, shedding off all the encrusted filthy rags of ugliness that she rationalizes as practical and realistic. Let us then embrace the cleansing Blood of Jesus' sacrifice, bathing in the holiness that will instill beauty once again.
My precious Lord, may your body no longer be a dysfunctional amalgamation of malformed parts, mutated by centuries of hate and judgment. May we instead repent and allow the healing of yielding completely to You. May your bride become complete and radiant, healthy and mature.
Let faith, love and hope explode in every limb, organ and sinew of your Bride, causing an extreme outpouring of Love and violent passion to burst from her body. Then she walk about this world causing blast radius' wherever she treads, annihilating anything that dares stand against your lavish grace and mercy.
Let is be, make it so, I know I pray in agreement to Your heart's desire. In Jesus' name."

(I humble ask you to check you heart, if you read this with an accusatory thought toward others and not yourself. If you be in the Lord, you are a part of this body and therefore as responsible for her welfare as all the other parts. Love her, embrace her, do not shun her. You can't function outside of her. You will die.)

God is so cool

I admit to being a less than adequate individual at times. Yes, I know that statement shocks many of you, since you think I'm so awesome. -snort- Not that I'm berating myself here, it's just that I think it's healthy to recognize your short comings. The unhealthy part about that is when you continually beat yourself up over your lacks and, believe me, been there, done that, got t-shirt and commemorative coffee mug.

It's really awesome though, when the fruit of your life indicates that there are some areas where we have gotten a few things right. Fruit, in this instance being my beautiful daughters, they continually blow me away. It is by the grace of God that my husband and I managed to raise three such extraordinary individuals. Are they perfect, no, but I'm their mother so I choose to see their awesmazingness.

So, on this occasion when I point out one of my daughter's neatnesses, let it be known to the general cosmos that all three of my daughters are wonderfully gifted and talented ladies who know God and love the peoples around them.

That being said, I wish to toot my fifteen-year-old daughter's horn. She came home excited because the English teacher finally gave the class a free writing assignment instead of the usual 'write about this' assignments. Jetta was given the choice to write anything she wanted and she was told that the class would read their stories out loud on the day they were due.

Here is what Jetta wrote and read to her captivated audience:

Here I am, laying this down at your feet. All my thoughts and insecurities are for you to listen to. Please listen.
My heart aches, wanting to burst as the memories dance around as we once did. Slowly and gracefully you swept me away. All of me fills with longing now. All I want is to see your face. All I ask is for your arms to surround me and for your love to cover me with a strong embrace. All I need is for you to show me you, for you to show me, me. You reflect me, and I truly miss that.
  WHERE ARE YOU! I cry out, and I wait, but I hear no reply. I don’t see you any place. What am I doing wrong? Why do you ignore me? My eyes become the Nile after a long storm. You’ve shown me love before, so why is now different from then? HUH?! Has every good feeling you’ve given me mean nothing? What do you want me to do? Tell me.
 The thoughts of you are flooding my every pore. I love you, can’t you see that in the way I’ve chosen to live for you? I focus my all on living in your image, and you choose to ignore me now, when I need you most. The stress is destroying me. My mind hurts with every thought of you leaving me alone, of being alone. This empty void is now my chest. What can fill me now, after I know what its like to be with you, nothing can compare to the love you bring. My everything shakes as I think, “What do I do now?”
In this darkness I’ve created, I wait, I sit. What would you do. OF COURSE! You! YOU’re the key! This whole time I’ve been talking about living for you, but I never really was. New adrenalin runs through me as I hear faint whispers breaking the dark like a lighthouse.
“My love, my creation, why have you hidden your face from me? You say you love me, yet you did things that hurt me to see. Though you have not seen me, I have always been there for you, helping you. I love you more than you know, more than you could ever imagine. No matter what you do, there is nothing that can make me love you less, only more, and more and more and more. It truly broke my heart to see you broken, but now you realize how to love, not caring about yourself, but about the one who loves you back.”
These sounds rushed into my ears like a river of living words, with bright and colorful textures mixed in with the soothing, warm waters. These words took away my feet, as well as my breath, overwhelming me. My body crumbled under the beautiful feeling that covered me from head to toe, from skin to spirit. Together, we were dancing again, in this time that nothing can remove from my memory, from my being. We sat for hours, the light growing brighter every second you were with me, my smile growing larger with every word you spoke softly into my brain. Eventually, I had to get up and continue with life. But this time I know for a fact that you are never, EVER gone from me. You love me.
“In Christ alone, my hope is found. He is my light, my strength, my song.”

Wow! Her story brought tears from some of her classmates, not jeers. It's so cool to see my kids knowing my God and expressing Him so amazingly.

Woo!

Woo! Say it with me, woo! Doesn't that just make your less than thrilling day just a bit more exciting?

My family was watching Wheel of Fortune one night and we became amused by one of the contestants. When it was his turn and he was winning, woo! flew unhindered from his mouth.

"Woo! Can I have an N please, Pat? Woo!"
"Sure, there are two N's"
"Woo! Woo! I'd like to spin, woo! Can I have a T please? Woo!"
"Why yes, you may. Vanna, please show him the T."
"Woo!"

That honestly was not an exaggeration, the man was one excited woo! machine. So, what does my family do, we began to woo! Dad says woo! I woo! Glory woo's! Then Jetta woo's! We entertained ourselves through the commercial break and the rest of the game show, wooing successively like a nest of delighted baby owls at feeding time.

That became the theme of the night, though we began fitting woo! into a random sentences or wooing when we liked something. "Woo! This is good ice cream." "I love you, woo!" "Wife woo! Will you take this glass to the sink while you are heading that way?"

Of course, to take the ridiculous to the extreme, Woo! is now an acceptable greeting in our home. Woo! Can be heard iminating from the bathroom after a particularly long trip or when someone has completed their homework. And it's not enough that woo is shouted, it is necessary for all hearing said woo! to repeat the outburst with gusto and the original wooee to repeat back any echos until the woo! storm eventually passes.

Why, you ask yourself seeing once again the rampant insanity which is quite normal in the Barganier household?

I submit to you a simple answer. Woo! Why not?

Compassion

So, as I've been laid up with a bad back this week, I've been contemplating compassion.
Some of us have a natural tendency to be compassionate. We look at others with mercy and try to perceive them beyond our own understanding and feel their pain. Some of us, in varying degrees, do not so easily lean toward compassion. But, since God loves us and wants to answer our prayers to be more like Him, He so generously(?) allows circumstances in our lives that create compassion in us. As most of you would agree, I personally prefer the natural compassion route, but painful or difficult circumstances do broaden our perspectives on things.
For example, this last summer, my youngest daughter, Jetta, injured her back at a strength training summer camp. She struggled with months of pain, numerous doctor visits and tests as her strained back very slowly tried to heal. This week was the first time my back, an old injury from my house cleaning business days, has given me trouble since Jetta's accident. One day as I ooched and ouched my way down onto the couch, Jetta said to me, and this is a translation from teenagerese so insert random dudes and other vernaculars. "Mom, I feel your pain. Before, when your back hurt, I didn't understand as much as I do now. I'm sorry you are hurting so much."
Did my precious kind-hearted daughter have compassion before, yes, in a general sense. However, through her own trials and pains, a deeper empathy was birthed in her toward those who suffered with back pain. She has been so understanding and attentive to my needs this week that's it's almost brought me to tears at times.
So, as is ooch and eek my way through this week and the temptation to feel sorry for myself whines in my brain, I've been reminded of Jetta's words and gratitude has helped keep me from slipping off into depressionland, which is my usual reaction. Gratitude for an understanding teenage nursemaid. Gratitude for a loving Savior who didn't think it beneath himself to come to earth and become acquainted with suffering. Gratitude that God doesn't allow me to continue in the destructive depressive behavior of mental abuse, because my back would be less likely to go out if I exercised and carried less weight, by teaching me to be grateful instead. And gratitude for the opportunity to view my unfortunate predicament as chance to become all the more compassionate toward others in similar circumstances.

It's all in how we choose to see things. Will you choose a whiny self-absorbed perspective that hobbles your spiritual growth or will you choose to look beyond your present discomfort and find gratitude for this opportunity to grow?