A beautiful, joyful sight . . . yellow ribbons welcoming troops home! Home for Christmas!! I have an idea that this was not a "bah, humbug" kind of place this Christmas season! No Ebenezer Scrooges at Fort Humbug!
Please join me in remembering and praying for the many men and women who will be away from their families this Christmas. God bless them everyone!
The Advent season is all about waiting . . . hope-filled waiting . . . expecting . . . looking forward to the celebration of His birth. It involves reflecting . . . remembering . . . but also basking in His presence today . . . for our Immanuel is with us this very moment! It's accepting and embracing His gifts of hope, peace, joy and love . . . for today . . . and tomorrow . . . and for eternity!
The excitement and spirit of Advent is everywhere. Elaborate decorations with bright and colorful lights transform our streets, shops, and homes. They proclaim a magnificent celebration of life. All over the world, without a word spoken or carol sung, the festive decorations declare, "God has come to be with us."
Yet in the midst of the cradle celebration, there is the dark shadow of the cross. Beyond the dazzling lights, precious lives stagger in darkness, alienation, and the wages of sin. When Christ, the head of every power and authority, became fully human and died on the cross, it appeared He had been defeated; evil had won. The innocent sweetness of a babe in a manger belies the toxic hostilities of powers and authorities deployed against humankind. But God raised Christ Jesus from the dead.
In celebrating the birth of Jesus, let us also celebrate God's power that raised Christ as victor over sin, death, and the grave. . . . Celebrate the triumphant cross at Christmas.
Our Christmas tree is best described as a memory tree - full of ornaments that we've collected the past 37+ years. You won't find any expensive pieces - not a one - but you'll find some priceless ones! They may be getting a little worn and ragged, but that just makes them more special. Some are homemade, some were gifts, and others we bought. As I put them on the tree, and as we enjoy them during this Christmas season, we are reminded of some very special people and events in our lives. And we realize how blessed we are! God has truly lavished His love and grace into our lives . . . and we are thankful!
My header shows two other very special ornaments, also homemade, of our four grands when they were much younger. They truly bring us so much joy! Merry Christmas Emily, Isaac, Abby, and Aiden! You are gifts from God to us!
John David used these words to describe the scenery in a certain area when we were traveling back in the summer. Those words have stayed with me.
Click on pic to enlarge.
Flag over Overton-Brooks Veterans Medical CenterSome veterans bear visible signs of their service: a missing limb, a jagged scar, a certain look in the eye.
Others may carry the evidence inside them: a pin holding a bone together, a piece of shrapnel in the leg - or perhaps another sort of inner steel: the soul's ally forged in the refinery of adversity.
Except in parades, however, the men and women who have kept America safe wear no badge or emblem.
You can't tell a vet just by looking.
He is the cop on the beat who spent six months in Saudi Arabia sweating two gallons a day making sure the armored personnel carriers didn't run out of fuel.
He is the barroom loudmouth, dumber than five wooden planks, whose overgrown frat-boy behavior is outweighed a hundred times in the cosmic scales by four hours of exquisite bravery near the 38th parallel.
She - or he - is the nurse who fought against futility and went to sleep sobbing every night for two solid years in Da Nang.
He is the POW who went away one person and came back another - or didn't come back AT ALL.
He is the Quantico drill instructor who has never seen combat - but has saved countless lives by turning slouchy, no-account rednecks and gang members into Marines, and teaching them to watch each other's backs.
He is the parade-riding Legionnaire who pins on his ribbons and medals with a prosthetic hand.
He is the career quartermaster who watches the ribbons and medals pass him by.
He is the three anonymous heroes in The Tomb Of The Unknowns, whose presence at the Arlington National Cemetery must forever preserve the memory of all the anonymous heroes whose valor dies unrecognized with them on the battlefield or in the ocean's sunless deep.
He is the old guy bagging groceries at the supermarket - palsied now and aggravatingly slow - who helped liberate a Nazi death camp and who wishes all day long that his wife were still alive to hold him when the nightmares come.
He is an ordinary and yet an extraordinary human being - a person who offered some of his life's most vital years in the service of his country, and who sacrificed his ambitions so others would not have to sacrifice theirs.
He is a soldier and a savior and a sword against the darkness, and he is nothing more than the finest, greatest testimony on behalf of the finest, greatest nation ever known.
So remember, each time you see someone who has served our country, just lean over and say "Thank You." That's all most people need, and in most cases it will mean more than any medals they could have been awarded or were awarded.
Two little words that mean a lot, "THANK YOU."
The following passage is from the book The Buzzards May Be Circling But God's Not Finished With Me Yet by Stan Toler, one of my favorite authors. And the book is just as interesting as the title! It's full of humor, practical observations, and wise advice - like this selection:Like it or not, people around us are watching. They want to see us carry the torch, even in the rain. They want to know if there are "batteries included" in that faith of ours. They want to know if religion works when the opposition comes along.I agree, don't you? Even when the fountain of youth has rusted - which is the title of the chapter!
A little boy ran to his mother, "Mom! You know the antique clock of ours that has been passed from one generation to another?"
"Yes," the mother anxiously responded. "What's wrong?"
"My generation just dropped it!"
Adversity or not, our generation cannot afford to drop the torch of faith. It must be passed along, not snuffed out by the circumstances we encounter.Speak through me, speak through me;
O Lord, speak through me.
Make Your Word upon my lips a flame today.
O Lord, speak through me.
~Love Through Me lyrics by Mosie Lister~
Looking at Mama's churn, I go back to another place . . . not too far down the road . . . and to another time . . . fifty or so years ago.
Sometimes I wonder what we are saving ourselves for . . .Thought-provoking words for this almost-sixty-year-old retiree! But I think I get it: we're never retired from being Jesus to our hurting world. I may move at a slower pace and have to rest more often, and Satan may fight me harder than ever, but I plan to be "used up" when my life here is over!
You know, we want to
save ourselves
and keep ourselves
and hold ourselves back
as though the highest goal in life would be to look good
in our caskets.
It's no special blessing to come to the end of life with
love unshared
selves ungiven
activities unactivated
deeds undone
emotions unextended.
Isn't it God's intention that when we come to the end
of the line
we're just about used up?
Sometimes between now and then
we might as well be letting the candle burn
for the light
for the heat
for the warmth and sharing.
As long as we're going to live
and then die
we'd just better live for Jesus
and love and go ahead and let ourselves be used up.
Sooner or later what's inside will come out,
(Click on pic to enlarge.)
