A Blanket and a Comforter, Too

On December 23rd, I was blessed to enjoy the overnight company of one of my beloved former young women, Jennifer, and her three children, Samantha, Harry, and Preston.  As we visited, the children asked why I didn't have a Christmas tree up in my house.  I pointed out that, in fact, I had two trees!  After taking another quick look around my front room, the children were clearly perplexed.

Within moments, I pointed to both trees, placed on tables, being approximately one foot in height.  For some reason, the children did not really accept these as being real Christmas trees and asked why I didn't have a real one that was all decorated and everything.  I tried to be funny about things by insisting that they were real enough.  "Why, looky here!  This tree even has presents under it!"  And then I lifted it up, placed a box full of presents on the table, and lowered the tree to literally sit on top of my presents.

They still didn't buy it.

Talk finally turned to my being "poor" as the reason why I didn't have a real tree after I explained that because of my having been laid-off from work seven months up to that point, I just simply couldn't afford a tree this year like I could other years.  I think they tried to understand, but I doubt that they really did.  A few shrugs of the emotional shoulders and closings of open jaws, and we were finally ready to select and watch a movie.  It took a while.

As it turned out, young Samantha got settled in my bed to watch my "so desperately tragic" (as she put it) Becoming Jane movie on her personal DVD player, whilst the rest of us acquiesced to rough it up with Invincible, rather than with one of the more rowdy Indiana Jones series in the front room.  Samantha just could not understand how her brothers would not benefit from and actually enjoy watching Becoming Jane.  Oh, I dunno.  I guess it must just be a guy thing.

Before Sam started her movie, I asked her if she were ready to have the comforter, too, in addition to the blanket she was already under.

"You have a comforter, too?!?" she asked incredulously. 
"Yep." came my quick reply. 
"Wow, Jacki! Well, you are FAR from poor if you have a comforter, too!" 

I just smiled without a little, and within a lot, as I thought of her simple faith and childlike perspective, as I fluffed the comforter over the bed, making sure to get Sam all snuggly underneath it.   Hah!  If she only knew how old that comforter is, I thought to myself. It's not like I just purchased it.

But, what a lesson!  I really am far from poor if I have my Comforter, too!

16  And I will pray the Father, and he shall give you another Comforter, that he may abide with you for ever;
17  Even the Spirit of truth; whom the world cannot receive, because it seeth him not, neither knoweth him: but ye know him; for he dwelleth with you, and shall be in you.
18  I will not leave you comfortless: I will come to you.
. . . . .
25  These things have I spoken unto you, being yet present with you.
26  But the Comforter, which is the Holy Ghost, whom the Father will send in my name, he shall teach you all things, and bring all things to your remembrance, whatsoever I have said unto you.
27  Peace I leave with you, my peace I give unto you: not as the world giveth, give I unto you.  Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid.  (John 14:16-27)

And so it is that during times of joblessness, of financial struggle, of emotional distress of varying weights and circumstances, and through all other trials which cannot possibly be enumerated here, it is critical that we all that surround ourselves and get snuggly with this Comforter.  For it is this Comforter who brings goodness, love, and hope to our remembrance.  He chases away fear and doubt.  He warms our very souls and somehow helps us to do the same for those around us who are even more poor, or who are feeling more poorly than we are.  And really--when we have this Comforter, we truly are FAR from being poor.

As the little girl, Virginia, once received the fabled testimony of Santa Claus, so do I now unfold similar sentiments, though on a higher and most true plane:

Yes, Samantha . . . there really is a Comforter . . . and He is ours.

Cathedral Builders

To all of God's loving cathedral builders out there . . . "With admiration for the greatness of what you are building when no one sees."

What Child Is This?

Of all the times that I love to sing, Christmas is my favorite.  From the time that I was a young girl in school, my heart filled with joy and understanding as I learned to sing the songs of Christ.  In fact, one of my fondest memories takes me back to the day that my fifth grade class was preparing to put on a Christmas play of sorts and the feelings that overcame me as I joined with them in singing and moving about the stage.

Teachers were careful to concentrate more on the technical aspects of the play's production, rather than emphasizing the meaning behind some of the Christmas songs we sang.  And, since I didn't have much of a religious upbringing in my home life, I was pretty much left on my own to discover what it was that we were all singing about.

During a dress rehearsal, the stage lights were brought down low, and we all joined our voices in asking:

What child is this, who, laid to rest
On Mary's lap, is sleeping?
Whom angels greet with anthems sweet,
While shepherds watch are keeping?

The Arrival of the Shepherds, by Henri Lerolle.
The original is in the Musee des Beaux-Arts in Carcassone, France.

I will never forget the feelings that enveloped me when, as we began to sound the reply to our own question, the Spirit of God lit my heart with understanding.  To my young voice and ignorant heart, maturity and strength of conviction were given, and I was literally moved to tears as the message of the Christ Child sunk deep into my soul:

This, this is Christ the King,
Whom shepherds guard and angels sing:
Haste, haste to bring him laud,
The Babe, the Son of Mary!

The Spirit taught me that day, and many days thereafter, helping me draw closer to Christ and to know His name, though it would be many years before I would be able to gain a fuller understanding of His Gospel and an ability to bear witness of its truthfulness to others. 

Now, with a fonder appreciation of His Gospel, I continue to sing.  As I do, my hope is that others will, through the Spirit, likewise come to understand the miraculous nature of Christ's birth and life, and to feel wondrous gratitude for all that His life promises us.

So bring Him incense, gold, and myrrh,
Come peasant king to own Him,
The King of kings, salvation brings,
Let loving hearts enthrone Him.

Raise, raise the song on high,
The Virgin sings her lullaby:
Joy, joy, for Christ is born,
The Babe, the Son of Mary!

Skinhorse Music

Some of you may have noticed that a few blogs these days no longer allow YouTube embeds to play, nor for Playlist.com music links to function.  Unless and until I learn of a solution to this problem, I thought I would extend an invitation to any persons still interested in hearing my little collection of music (42 songs currently) to just send me a note.

While this menagerie of music resonates with messages that have brought me and others hope; or an extra measure of love; or which just may simply emotionally capture some of the more poignant, unspeakable yearnings of the heart--the blend is not enjoyable to everyone, and might even be annoying to some.  Still, if there are any who would like a link to the music, let me know.  Either send me your your email address in a note, or leave it in a post.  I will email the invitation from Playlist.com.  That's the only way the music can be shared at this time.

And for those of you who are wondering . . . I'm still working on drafting other possible postings.  It has just been a tough year.  My silence reflects some of this.