Lost Child

I know the feeling. The heaviness in the middle of the chest, the emptiness in the pit of the stomach, the swirling confusion in the head that accompanies the realization that you have no idea where your child is, or whether or not she is safe.

I experienced it the day my daughter did not arrive at school. Someone saw her get in a car with a guy at the bus stop. When we called the police, and they found out she was over 16, they said, "Well, then, we have to assume she is where she wants to be."

My husband spent the day driving around looking for the car that was described to us by friends at the bus stop.

A repeat of the feeling occurred the night we discovered her bed empty and her footprints leaving the house in the new-fallen snow.

Then there was the time we knew she was somewhere in town with someone, because she was going to school, but she wasn't coming home at night.

Later still, there was a time she called us from North Carolina.

"What are you doing in North Carolina?"

"I came down here with Chuck," she replied.

"Chuck who?"
She called out, "Chuck, what's your last name?"

I thought I might pass out that time. She was pregnant and we didn't know who the father of the baby was, but it wasn't Chuck.

Now the child she was carrying during that incident has disappeared herself. No one has seen her or heard from her in a week. She isn't answering her cell phone, and no calls have been made on it since December 30th. She hasn't been to school yet since Christmas break is over. She is 18 years old, cute as a button and very, very foolish.

I wouldn't wish the feeling a mother has in this situation on anyone....not even on the daughter who did it to me, and is now experiencing it herself.

Forgetfulness

Twice in the past 3 days, I have found a burner on the stove with nothing on it. Each time my dear husband has recently made himself a cup of tea, apparently removing the tea kettle from the hot burner, but forgetting to turn it off. The second time this occurred, I said, "Sometimes I worry about you!"

"And with good reason," he responded with a wry grin.

This morning I went upstairs for the express purpose of getting a coffee mug I remembered that I had left in the bathroom. Once upstairs, I used the bathroom and came back down without the mug. My husband was sitting in the front hall putting on his boots when I came through sputtering about my forgetfulness.

"Wouldn't it be awful if one of us grew old and the other didn't?" he asked.

Hmmm....that's true, but it is going to be pretty grim if we both get exceedingly forgetful.

I had a great-aunt and uncle who managed to function after he lost his physical strength, because she was still strong. She, however, lost her marbles, and he supplied the brain power for the duo. It was an arrangement that allowed them to manage in their own home right up until the end....they died within 24 hours of each other.

What happens when both members of the partnership become senile?

Sure hope we don't find out....or more accurately that our children don't find out. If we both lose it, we may not even realize it...or maybe we will each think the other one is loony.

So much to look forward to!

Christmas Cookies Sermon #3

This morning I was visiting with a daughter elsewhere in NYS, so I left my Christmas Cookie Sermon for a friend to do.

I made sugar cookie cutouts shaped like stars and suggested the verses Philippians 3:14-15 Do everything without complaining or arguing, so that you may become blameless and pure, children of God without fault in a crooked and depraved generation, in which you shine like stars in the universe..."

I asked her to share the importance of each of us letting our lights shine to point others to Christ. I also left a CD of Larnelle Harris...I Want to Be a Star. The lyrics include...I want to be a star, hung somewhere in the silent sky, like the one over Bethlehem, that brought the humble and the wise.."

Being a "star" in a world of darkness seems like a formidable task. One might ask, "Just who do you think you are anyway?" The lyrics of the song also include..."I have no glory of my own for anyone to see...it's simply a reflection of Your light that shines in me."

I am flawed...in fact, I am a sinner. But, I am saved by the grace of God, and I feel an obligation to say so.

Memories of Christmas Past

Every year at Christmastime, I reminisce about my first Christmas away from my family. I was 18 years old and in my second year of Nursing School. In those "olden days," nursing programs were based in hospitals, rather than colleges. The education was inexpensive, because the student nurse was basically the hospital's slave. We got four weeks of vacation a year, and it was not our choice when we took it. So it was that in 1963, I was hundreds of miles away from my family trying to discover Christmas on my own.

I attended a church in Oak Park regularly and sang in the church choir. Just before Christmas there was to be a Sunday evening concert by the choir. Although I often sang solos, duets and other special parts, the only one I had been scheduled to sing that night was with two other girls on the same part in one of the choir numbers. During the hour before the concert, the college and career group was meeting, and that's where I was when someone called me out of the meeting with, "Larry wants to see you."

Larry was the church pianist, and I couldn't imagine what he wanted with me. I soon learned that the program was to include a special arrangement by Larry of "It Came Upon a Midnight Clear." It was to be a duet, but the alto was ill with laryngitis. Larry wanted me to sing the part, because he really wanted his arrangement to be included in the program.

I am not sure how clearly I expressed verbally what I was thinking, but it went something like, "You're crazy! I am a soprano. I have never sung alto in my entire life. The concert is about 40 minutes from beginning. How could I possibly learn the part that quickly? Plus which, it isn't just for the hundreds of people attending....it's going to be recorded. If I mess up, there will be lasting evidence!"

Larry calmly informed me that the alto had the melody in some of the piece, and he could teach me the rest. He was so confident that I could do this, that I gave in. I had some misgivings about my sanity, but I gave in.

In the next 15 to 20 minutes, he analyzed the part for me. He told me that when I had to pick out the harmony, he would emphasize my note in the chord just before my entrance. He described some of the intervals as being similar to those in other songs he knew I was familiar with. We went through it about 3 times.

And I did it.

Now listening to the recording, there is one note that makes me uncomfortable. Not because it is a clunker, but because I attacked it too vigorously.

When Christmas Day came, a group of us decided to go caroling in the halls of the hospital before work at 7 AM. One of the girls in the group knew which room was occupied by a reputed Mafia boss whose bodyguards never left his side. We decided we would sing right outside his door. When we finished, a voice boomed out of the room with a stereotypical, "Tanks, goils." We hastened into the stairwell before bursting into giggles, which I expect he heard.

I had been working with the same patients for several days, so I took Christmas cards for them with me to work that morning, only to discover I had been reassigned to the other end of the floor. Being short-staffed had caused some realignment. I was disappointed when I realized that I had been assigned to two patients who had had strokes and were comatose. I had wanted to interact and spread some Christmas cheer.

When I entered the room of these two totally unresponsive ladies, I was startled to see that a beautiful orchid had been pinned to the pillow of one of the women. Her son had come in early that morning and placed it there as a token of his love for her. For me, it was a reminder that these ladies were not just blobs of humanity, but mothers who were loved. My whole attitude was abruptly altered.

As I bathed them, changed their positions, put clean sheets on the bed and gave other care that Christmas Day, I sang carols to them. I had no idea if they could hear the songs, but if a son cared enough to leave an orchid, I needed to care enough to make an attempt at helping them know that it was Christmas....a day for joy in the midst of pain.

Now every year, I listen to that old recording of "It Came Upon a Midnight Clear." Over the years, the record became scratchy, and I put the song on a tape. I guess I should now put it on a CD. I listen somewhat in awe of how well I actually did, but mostly because listening calls me back to that era of my life. It makes me remember my 18 year old self having the courage to perform a piece I didn't know well, laughing over "Tanks, goils," and having an orchid on a pillow adjust my attitude.

Being with family for Christmas is wonderful, but the real meaning is in experiencing the love, peace, joy and salvation that the Baby in the Manger entered our world to bring.

I knew that in my head before I was 18, but that year, it filled my heart.

Gleaning

In some cultures many years ago, after the owner of a field had gathered in his crop, the poor were allowed to go through his field and pick up anything that remained. The beautiful story of Ruth in the Bible explains how Ruth met Boaz, because she gleaned in his fields gathering food for herself and her mother-in-law.
I was reminded of that story this week on my way to work. Most of my usual route is through farmlands. This time of year, the corn has all been harvested and the stubs of corn stalks poke up through a coating of snow. One such field I passed had hundreds of Canadian geese gleaning the remains of the crop. A few miles later in my trip, I saw a group of about a dozen wild turkeys picking through the leftovers of another cornfield. I have also seen deer in these fields on some mornings.
It made me wonder what will happen to wildlife as the number of small family farms in our country dwindles. The birds and the beasts are the gleaners in our fields.

Why the Post Office is in Trouble

...or at least, in my opinion.
Last week we had lake effect snow in our area, but the band didn't really stall over the top of us, so we only got about a foot total. The first day of the snow, I went out and shoveled the sidewalk perpendicular to the street. A kind neighbor who, I think, knew my husband was out of town, did the sidewalk parallel to the street with his snow-blower.
The second day, I watched the weather and thought, "Well, there's not that much new snow, and I hate to shovel and then have to shovel again after it stops." So, I called the guy who has been doing yard jobs for us recently and left a message for him to come and shovel when it was convenient.
Later that day, I noticed the mailman on the other side of the street. I was sort of watching for him, because I had some letters that needed to go out that day, and of course, this close to Christmas, I was expecting to received some mail.
Currently the houses on either side of us are vacant, and the walks there are not shoveled at all. From my sewing table on the second floor, I saw the mailman go out in the street when he came to the house on the east side of ours and continue past our house and the one on the west side. I ran downstairs and out on the porch. I called to the mailman who was now two houses away, "Did you skip me, because my sidewalk wasn't shoveled?"
"Yes," he called back, and kept walking.
I would have chased him to get my mail, but I didn't have my boots on.
I couldn't believe it. All he had to do was walk up the driveway, the end of which the thoughtful neighbor had snowblown....there was no mound to climb over.
I took a ruler out and measured the depth of the snow on my walk...it ranged between 3 and 6 1/2 inches.....hardly a deterrent to a young adult male in heavy boots.
Now mind you, it was 4 pm and he was probably tired and anxious to finish his route, but I get lots of mail which he, by his choice, had to carry the rest of the route and back again the next day.
I also expect that the houses on either side of us not being shoveled out contributed to what he did, but that isn't my fault. I can't be expected to shovel out two properties I don't own....not at my age anyway. I'm in good shape, but I'm not exactly a teenager anymore.
There's this thing called "work ethic" that seems to be lacking in a huge percentage of the population.
So today, there was a promotional piece in the mail from the US Postal Service saying they would deliver holiday stamps to my door.
#1 It's a little late for that.
#2 They can't even deliver my mail if they don't feel like it.
Sigh.
I don't suppose they are interested in my opinion, but customer service is important.

Christmas Cookie Sermon #2

Today I took thumbprint cookies to church. I showed the plate of cookies to the kids and asked them if they knew what they were called. No one did. I told them they were thumbprint cookies and asked if they knew why they were so named. One of the girls offered that I had probably stuck my thumb in the middle of each one.
I described how I had rolled the dough into balls, rolled each ball in egg white and then in chopped nuts, placed the balls on a cookie sheet, and pressed my thumb into each one. After the cookies were baked I filled my thumb imprint with frosting.
God is not exactly described as a cookie baker in the Bible, but He is described as a potter. He takes the clay, shapes it as he desires and when He is finished, He puts his stamp on the vessel created.
I suggested that if we allow God to shape us and put His imprint on us, He fills that imprint with something good, just the way I filled the thumbprint with frosting. The themes for our Advent candles are hope, peace, joy and love....all things God wants to fill us with.
So let's allow God to put His imprint on our lives.
Everyone, including the adults, enjoyed the cookies.