"Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men."
Merry Christmas!
Showing posts with label christmas. Show all posts
Showing posts with label christmas. Show all posts
Thursday, December 24, 2009
Wishing you a peace-filled Christmas
"Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men."
Tuesday, December 22, 2009
Celebrating Christmas
What does it mean to celebrate Christmas?
Is it all about parties, get-togethers, shopping, giving and receiving gifts, cooking, baking, hangovers, and bills to pay afterward?
I was struck by a quote from Mary Baker Eddy from her article, “What Christmas means to me.” She wrote, “I love to observe Christmas in quietude, humility, benevolence, charity, letting good will towards man, eloquent silence, prayer, and praise express my conception of Truth’s appearing.”
The words, “…express my conception of Truth’s appearing,” grabbed my attention.
Christmas is about far more than the birth of baby Jesus. It’s about the message of spiritual truth Jesus brought to humanity from God. It was not solely Jesus, a physical person, who transformed the world, but the Christ, Truth, Jesus taught and lived. The two are inseparable, but to catch the true meaning of Christmas, one must think beyond a material birth to the divine idea that appeared through the life and teaching of Jesus. The divine idea included the truth that we are all spiritual, we are all children of God, loved and upheld by divine grace, just as Jesus proved and taught us how to find.
To celebrate Christmas is to live true to our spiritual selfhood as Jesus so ably exemplified, and to let it appear vividly through our thoughts, words, and actions.
This is why I believe Eddy wrote, “I love to observe Christmas in quietude, humility, benevolence, charity,…” because these forms of observance allow thought to get still with God and discern the appearing of Christ, or Truth, within. It cultivates a ready state of mind that allows the true meaning of Christmas to surface.
Then she outlined the outward form this appearing takes in her life as, “…letting good will towards man, eloquent silence, prayer, and praise express my conception of Truth’s appearing.”
Christmas is not a social event. It’s not the 25th of December. It’s not about attending parties, events, and programs. It’s not about living up to the commercial and consumer expectations of secular society. It’s about the appearing of Christ in our lives and examples.
To follow through with this high vision, I’ve been asking myself, “How is Truth appearing in my life this holiday? What is the outward evidence of it? How are other people’s lives being positively affected by it?”
I’ve made some changes in the way I think about Christmas. I want to be a better influence on others. I want to help others more effectively, and I’ve decided I need less for myself.
What’s your vision for Christmas?
Is it all about parties, get-togethers, shopping, giving and receiving gifts, cooking, baking, hangovers, and bills to pay afterward?
I was struck by a quote from Mary Baker Eddy from her article, “What Christmas means to me.” She wrote, “I love to observe Christmas in quietude, humility, benevolence, charity, letting good will towards man, eloquent silence, prayer, and praise express my conception of Truth’s appearing.”
The words, “…express my conception of Truth’s appearing,” grabbed my attention.
Christmas is about far more than the birth of baby Jesus. It’s about the message of spiritual truth Jesus brought to humanity from God. It was not solely Jesus, a physical person, who transformed the world, but the Christ, Truth, Jesus taught and lived. The two are inseparable, but to catch the true meaning of Christmas, one must think beyond a material birth to the divine idea that appeared through the life and teaching of Jesus. The divine idea included the truth that we are all spiritual, we are all children of God, loved and upheld by divine grace, just as Jesus proved and taught us how to find.
To celebrate Christmas is to live true to our spiritual selfhood as Jesus so ably exemplified, and to let it appear vividly through our thoughts, words, and actions.
This is why I believe Eddy wrote, “I love to observe Christmas in quietude, humility, benevolence, charity,…” because these forms of observance allow thought to get still with God and discern the appearing of Christ, or Truth, within. It cultivates a ready state of mind that allows the true meaning of Christmas to surface.
Then she outlined the outward form this appearing takes in her life as, “…letting good will towards man, eloquent silence, prayer, and praise express my conception of Truth’s appearing.”
Christmas is not a social event. It’s not the 25th of December. It’s not about attending parties, events, and programs. It’s not about living up to the commercial and consumer expectations of secular society. It’s about the appearing of Christ in our lives and examples.
To follow through with this high vision, I’ve been asking myself, “How is Truth appearing in my life this holiday? What is the outward evidence of it? How are other people’s lives being positively affected by it?”
I’ve made some changes in the way I think about Christmas. I want to be a better influence on others. I want to help others more effectively, and I’ve decided I need less for myself.
What’s your vision for Christmas?
Monday, December 21, 2009
Christmas thoughts
I receive many Christmas cards at my office, along with several family updates tucked inside. I value them all.
My practice often spurts this time of year because many individuals struggle with feeling the joy of the season despite all the festivities going on around them. They may be single wanting to be married, widowed, divorced, depressed, or just not into the spirit. Whatever the belief, I rejoice whenever I see hope and faith overcome phases of mortal loneliness and lift thought to closer to Love's ever-presence.
A poem inserted into one of these cards I received, touched me, because it accomplishes such a purpose. It lifts thought above the material, to the spiritual, where the feeling of Christmas is no longer measured in terms of parties, gifts, festivities and events. But in terms of the completeness one feels in knowing Christ.
I asked permission to post this poem. Enjoy...
My practice often spurts this time of year because many individuals struggle with feeling the joy of the season despite all the festivities going on around them. They may be single wanting to be married, widowed, divorced, depressed, or just not into the spirit. Whatever the belief, I rejoice whenever I see hope and faith overcome phases of mortal loneliness and lift thought to closer to Love's ever-presence.
A poem inserted into one of these cards I received, touched me, because it accomplishes such a purpose. It lifts thought above the material, to the spiritual, where the feeling of Christmas is no longer measured in terms of parties, gifts, festivities and events. But in terms of the completeness one feels in knowing Christ.
I asked permission to post this poem. Enjoy...
Christmas Comes
It does not matter where I am, Christmas comes.
Is it snow, or cold, trees, and glitter that bring cheer?
Is it presents, tinsel, golden candlesticks, or lights that tell Christ is here?
Friends greet me with happy notes; carolers bring the songs so dear.
My Christmas comes when silent stars and stillness tell me, "All is well."
Knowing that in His Grace, in His Love, we all may dwell.
Do not say a word; He comes in silence as a shaft of light resting on new snow.
My Christmas comes for I have found Him, who is ever near, to love and know.
~ Elizabeth Nelson
Friday, December 18, 2009
A Christmas time story
LITTLE PICCOLA
Celia Thaxter
In the sunny land of France there lived many years ago a sweet little maid named Piccola.
Her father had died when she was a baby, and her mother was very poor and had to work hard all day in the fields for a few sous.
Little Piccola had no dolls and toys, and she was often hungry and cold, but she was never sad nor lonely.
What if there were no children for her to play with! What if she did not have fine clothes and beautiful toys! In summer there were always the birds in the forest, and the flowers in the fields and meadows, -- the birds sang so sweetly, and the flowers were so bright and pretty!
In the winter when the ground was covered with snow, Piccola helped her mother, and knit long stockings of blue wool.
The snow-birds had to be fed with crumbs, if she could find any, and then, there was Christmas Day.
But one year her mother was ill and could not earn any money. Piccola worked hard all the day long, and sold the stockings which she knit, even when her own little bare feet were blue with the cold.
As Christmas Day drew near she said to her mother, "I wonder what the good Saint Nicholas will bring me this year. I cannot hang my stocking in the fireplace, but I shall put my wooden shoe on the hearth for him. He will not forget me, I am sure."
"Do not think of it this year, my dear child," replied her mother. "We must be glad if we have bread enough to eat."
But Piccola could not believe that the good saint would forget her. On Christmas Eve she put her little wooden patten on the hearth before the fire, and went to sleep to dream of Saint Nicholas.
As the poor mother looked at the little shoe, she thought how unhappy her dear child would be to find it empty in the morning, and wished that she had something, even if it were only a tiny cake, for a Christmas gift. There was nothing in the house but a few sous, and these must be saved to buy bread.
When the morning dawned Piccola awoke and ran to her shoe.
Saint Nicholas had come in the night. He had not forgotten the little child who had thought of him with such faith.
See what he had brought her. It lay in the wooden patten, looking up at her with its two bright eyes, and chirping contentedly as she stroked its soft feathers.
A little swallow, cold and hungry, had flown into the chimney and down to the room, and had crept into the shoe for warmth.
Piccola danced for joy, and clasped the shivering swallow to her breast.
She ran to her mother's bedside. "Look, look!" she cried. "A Christmas gift, a gift from the good Saint Nicholas!" And she danced again in her little bare feet.
Then she fed and warmed the bird, and cared for it tenderly all winter long; teaching it to take crumbs from her hand and her lips, and to sit on her shoulder while she was working.
In the spring she opened the window for it to fly away, but it lived in the woods near by all summer, and came often in the early morning to sing its sweetest songs at her door.
People identify the grace of God in different ways. In this instance, Piccola imagined a Saint Nicholas, as she had been undoubtedly taught to believe by elders.
But what attracted me to this story is that Piccola did not feel poor. Her love and selfless affection made her rich in the things that matter most. When she found a struggling bird in her shoe of expectancy Christmas morning, she did not complain or wish for another gift. She jumped on the opportunity to love the needy one and nurse it back to health. Both were blessed.
Have you ever received a gift that caused you to grumble or silently complain? Perhaps, if we all had the spirit of Piccola, it wouldn't matter what we found or didn't find under the tree Christmas morning. It's all about the love we feel and show.
The spirit of Christmas is not so much in what we get, but in what we give.
Christ is born. Christ is here. The gift of love from above has been given. Are we ready and willing to share it with others unconditionally?
Celia Thaxter
In the sunny land of France there lived many years ago a sweet little maid named Piccola.
Her father had died when she was a baby, and her mother was very poor and had to work hard all day in the fields for a few sous.
Little Piccola had no dolls and toys, and she was often hungry and cold, but she was never sad nor lonely.
What if there were no children for her to play with! What if she did not have fine clothes and beautiful toys! In summer there were always the birds in the forest, and the flowers in the fields and meadows, -- the birds sang so sweetly, and the flowers were so bright and pretty!
In the winter when the ground was covered with snow, Piccola helped her mother, and knit long stockings of blue wool.
The snow-birds had to be fed with crumbs, if she could find any, and then, there was Christmas Day.
But one year her mother was ill and could not earn any money. Piccola worked hard all the day long, and sold the stockings which she knit, even when her own little bare feet were blue with the cold.
As Christmas Day drew near she said to her mother, "I wonder what the good Saint Nicholas will bring me this year. I cannot hang my stocking in the fireplace, but I shall put my wooden shoe on the hearth for him. He will not forget me, I am sure."
"Do not think of it this year, my dear child," replied her mother. "We must be glad if we have bread enough to eat."
But Piccola could not believe that the good saint would forget her. On Christmas Eve she put her little wooden patten on the hearth before the fire, and went to sleep to dream of Saint Nicholas.
As the poor mother looked at the little shoe, she thought how unhappy her dear child would be to find it empty in the morning, and wished that she had something, even if it were only a tiny cake, for a Christmas gift. There was nothing in the house but a few sous, and these must be saved to buy bread.
When the morning dawned Piccola awoke and ran to her shoe.
Saint Nicholas had come in the night. He had not forgotten the little child who had thought of him with such faith.
See what he had brought her. It lay in the wooden patten, looking up at her with its two bright eyes, and chirping contentedly as she stroked its soft feathers.
A little swallow, cold and hungry, had flown into the chimney and down to the room, and had crept into the shoe for warmth.
Piccola danced for joy, and clasped the shivering swallow to her breast.
She ran to her mother's bedside. "Look, look!" she cried. "A Christmas gift, a gift from the good Saint Nicholas!" And she danced again in her little bare feet.
Then she fed and warmed the bird, and cared for it tenderly all winter long; teaching it to take crumbs from her hand and her lips, and to sit on her shoulder while she was working.
In the spring she opened the window for it to fly away, but it lived in the woods near by all summer, and came often in the early morning to sing its sweetest songs at her door.
People identify the grace of God in different ways. In this instance, Piccola imagined a Saint Nicholas, as she had been undoubtedly taught to believe by elders.
But what attracted me to this story is that Piccola did not feel poor. Her love and selfless affection made her rich in the things that matter most. When she found a struggling bird in her shoe of expectancy Christmas morning, she did not complain or wish for another gift. She jumped on the opportunity to love the needy one and nurse it back to health. Both were blessed.
Have you ever received a gift that caused you to grumble or silently complain? Perhaps, if we all had the spirit of Piccola, it wouldn't matter what we found or didn't find under the tree Christmas morning. It's all about the love we feel and show.
The spirit of Christmas is not so much in what we get, but in what we give.
Christ is born. Christ is here. The gift of love from above has been given. Are we ready and willing to share it with others unconditionally?
Friday, December 26, 2008
The after effects of Christmas
On the radio, I was listening to lamenting and bemoaning over the “after effects” of Christmas by talk show hosts and call-ins complaining about gaining too much weight over the holidays and accruing heavy debt from gift purchases.
After a bit, I halted the aggressive negativity trying to captivate my attention with a mental outburst of, “Eating too much food and acquiring debt has nothing to do with participating in the true meaning of Christmas! Christmas is about celebrating the Advent of Christ. It’s about experiencing more of the power and presence of God everyday in practical meaningful ways. It’s a spiritual event, designed to leave us in a better place spiritually and humanly for having participated!”
Christmas is a totally positive experience when seen in its proper light. Yes, if one views Christmas as a time to overindulge sensually through food, purchases and inactivity, the final result may not be good at all, and rightfully so, for there is nothing becoming and beneficial about gluttony and trusting deeply in material sense to bring happiness. But none of that is Christmas.
Christmas is not a sensual indulgence. It’s a divine experience! It’s about growing spiritually, becoming a better person, learning to love others better, dissolving conflict in family relations, finding better health, curing disease and dropping old sins.
Christmas is about recognizing Christ in one’s self and in one’s neighbor.
I could not think of any negative after-effects from celebrating the real meaning of this holiday. Christmas is all positive! As far as I could see... No ill comes from bearing witness to the activity of Christ in one's mental neighborhood, and living true to the love of Christ in one's thoughts and deeds.
Everything about Christmas is good!
So, I ask you, "What progressive developments occurred in your life this Christmas from having participated in the true spirit of the Day?..."
After a bit, I halted the aggressive negativity trying to captivate my attention with a mental outburst of, “Eating too much food and acquiring debt has nothing to do with participating in the true meaning of Christmas! Christmas is about celebrating the Advent of Christ. It’s about experiencing more of the power and presence of God everyday in practical meaningful ways. It’s a spiritual event, designed to leave us in a better place spiritually and humanly for having participated!”
Christmas is a totally positive experience when seen in its proper light. Yes, if one views Christmas as a time to overindulge sensually through food, purchases and inactivity, the final result may not be good at all, and rightfully so, for there is nothing becoming and beneficial about gluttony and trusting deeply in material sense to bring happiness. But none of that is Christmas.
Christmas is not a sensual indulgence. It’s a divine experience! It’s about growing spiritually, becoming a better person, learning to love others better, dissolving conflict in family relations, finding better health, curing disease and dropping old sins.
Christmas is about recognizing Christ in one’s self and in one’s neighbor.
I could not think of any negative after-effects from celebrating the real meaning of this holiday. Christmas is all positive! As far as I could see... No ill comes from bearing witness to the activity of Christ in one's mental neighborhood, and living true to the love of Christ in one's thoughts and deeds.
Everything about Christmas is good!
So, I ask you, "What progressive developments occurred in your life this Christmas from having participated in the true spirit of the Day?..."
Wednesday, December 24, 2008
The real meaning of Christmas
As I was shoveling 4’ of snow off the back deck of our cabin last evening, I had a lot of time to think. Demands on my practice led me to wrestle more with the real meaning of Christmas.
As I mentioned in a blog posting a few days ago, many people call into my practice this time of year upset and depressed over the holiday season. They do not feel the spirit of Christmas. They feel lonely, forgotten, isolated perhaps, or, on the other side of the same coin, stressed out by getting caught up into buying things, managing debt, overeating, dealing with relatives, or trying to do too much in too little time.
As a long list of objections people have with Christmas rolled through my mind, an inner voice protested, “This ought not to be! Christmas is not about accelerating socializing, partying, eating, spending, buying, coping and pleasing personal sense. Christmas is all about the coming of Christ and the fulfillment of Christ’s promise, ‘Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men.’” (Luke 2:14)
Aw, yes, I especially liked the promise of peace.
Christmas is all about peace! A bright light turned on in my thought. Not a superficial, turn down the material noise and dwell in artificial material calm, type of peace. But a deep-rooted profound anchored fixedness within that comes from knowing one is a precious loved spiritual child of God.
I often watch people seek Christmas in the things they do, the places they vacation or the families they visit. But it seems to me that Christmas is not found in geography, society, or consumerism. It’s found in a mental atmosphere of prayerfulness and spiritual mindedness. And this environment of peace is equally accessible by one and all whether they sit at a dinner table for one or find themselves in a room of bustling human activity.
Isn't Christmas about the peace of God taking over human consciousness, purging it of strain and stress, despair and depression, and overflowing it with gratitude, heavenly joy and love unbounded? I pondered.
Christ has come. Christ is here. Christ is leading humanity to a higher hope than any idealized temporal human scenario could ever deliver. Christ leads us right to heaven where joys are eternal, companionship with God’s family members complete, and love unfailing.
Heaven is home, and Christ takes us there.
On the eve of Christmas Day 2008, I wish you the very best Christ has to offer, and pray the peace of Christ so permeate your every thought and action, that after the day comes and goes, you march on feeling closer to God than ever before.
Merry Christmas! And peace, good will to you all.
Oh, and yes, I did finish shoveling the deck. It was a very productive time with God, indeed.
As I mentioned in a blog posting a few days ago, many people call into my practice this time of year upset and depressed over the holiday season. They do not feel the spirit of Christmas. They feel lonely, forgotten, isolated perhaps, or, on the other side of the same coin, stressed out by getting caught up into buying things, managing debt, overeating, dealing with relatives, or trying to do too much in too little time.
As a long list of objections people have with Christmas rolled through my mind, an inner voice protested, “This ought not to be! Christmas is not about accelerating socializing, partying, eating, spending, buying, coping and pleasing personal sense. Christmas is all about the coming of Christ and the fulfillment of Christ’s promise, ‘Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men.’” (Luke 2:14)
Aw, yes, I especially liked the promise of peace.
Christmas is all about peace! A bright light turned on in my thought. Not a superficial, turn down the material noise and dwell in artificial material calm, type of peace. But a deep-rooted profound anchored fixedness within that comes from knowing one is a precious loved spiritual child of God.
I often watch people seek Christmas in the things they do, the places they vacation or the families they visit. But it seems to me that Christmas is not found in geography, society, or consumerism. It’s found in a mental atmosphere of prayerfulness and spiritual mindedness. And this environment of peace is equally accessible by one and all whether they sit at a dinner table for one or find themselves in a room of bustling human activity.
Isn't Christmas about the peace of God taking over human consciousness, purging it of strain and stress, despair and depression, and overflowing it with gratitude, heavenly joy and love unbounded? I pondered.
Christ has come. Christ is here. Christ is leading humanity to a higher hope than any idealized temporal human scenario could ever deliver. Christ leads us right to heaven where joys are eternal, companionship with God’s family members complete, and love unfailing.
Heaven is home, and Christ takes us there.
On the eve of Christmas Day 2008, I wish you the very best Christ has to offer, and pray the peace of Christ so permeate your every thought and action, that after the day comes and goes, you march on feeling closer to God than ever before.
Merry Christmas! And peace, good will to you all.
Oh, and yes, I did finish shoveling the deck. It was a very productive time with God, indeed.
Much love...
Sunday, December 21, 2008
A Christmas story
Sent in by a reader...
Pa never had much compassion for the lazy or those who squandered their means and then never had enough for the necessities. But for those who were genuinely in need, his heart was as big as all outdoors. It was from him that I learned the greatest joy in life comes from giving, not from receiving.
It was Christmas Eve 1881. I was fifteen years old and feeling like the world had caved in on me because there just hadn't been enough money to buy me the rifle that I'd wanted for Christmas.
We did the chores early that night for some reason. I just figured Pa wanted a little extra time so we could read in the Bible. After supper was over I took my boots off and stretched out in front of the fireplace and waited for Pa to get down the old Bible.
I was still feeling sorry for myself and, to be honest, I wasn't in much of a mood to read Scriptures. But Pa didn't get the Bible, instead he bundled up again and went outside. I couldn't figure it out because we had already done all the chores. I didn't worry about it long though, I was too busy wallowing in self-pity.
Soon Pa came back in. It was a cold clear night out and there was ice in his beard. "Come on, Matt," he said. "Bundle up good, it's cold out tonight." I was really upset then. Not only wasn't I getting the rifle for Christmas, now Pa was dragging me out in the cold, and for no earthly reason that I could see. We'd already done all the chores, and I couldn't think of anything else that needed doing, especially not on a night like this. But I knew Pa was not very patient at one dragging one's feet when he'd told them to do something, so I got up and put my boots back on and got my cap, coat, and mittens. Ma gave me a mysterious smile as I opened the door to leave the house. Something was up, but I didn't know what.
Outside, I became even more dismayed. There in front of the house was the work team, already hitched to the big sled. Whatever it was we were goingto do wasn't going to be a short, quick, little job. I could tell. We never hitched up this sled unless we were going to haul a big load. Pa was already up on the seat, reins in hand. I reluctantly climbed up beside him. The cold was already biting at me. I wasn't happy. When I was on, Pa pulled the sled around the house and stopped in front of the woodshed. He got off and I followed. "I think we'll put on the high sideboards," he said. "Here, help me." The high sideboards! It had been a bigger job than I wanted to do with just the low sideboards on, but whatever it was we were going to do would be a lot bigger with the high side boards on.
After we had exchanged the sideboards, Pa went into the woodshed and cameout with an armload of wood - the wood I'd spent all summer hauling down from the mountain, and then all fall sawing into blocks and splitting. What was he doing? Finally I said something. "Pa," I asked, "what are you doing?" You been by the Widow Jensen's lately?" he asked. The Widow Jensen lived about two miles down the road. Her husband had died a year or so before and left her with three children, the oldest being eight. Sure,I'd been by, but so what?
Yeah," I said, "Why?"
"I rode by just today," Pa said. "Little Jakey was out digging around in the woodpile trying to find a few chips. They're out of wood, Matt." That was all he said and then he turned and went back into the woodshed for another armload of wood. I followed him. We loaded the sled so high that I began to wonder if the horses would be able to pull it. Finally, Pa called a halt to our loading, then we went to the smoke house and Pa took down a big ham and a side of bacon. He handed them to me and told me to put them in the sledand wait. When he returned he was carrying a sack of flour over his right shoulder and a smaller sack of something in his left hand.
"What's in the little sack?" I asked. Shoes, they're out of shoes. Little Jakey just had gunny sacks wrapped around his feet when he was out in the woodpile this morning. I got the children a little candy too. It just wouldn't be Christmas without a little candy."
We rode the two miles to Widow Jensen's pretty much in silence. I tried to think through what Pa was doing. We didn't have much by worldly standards. Of course, we did have a big woodpile, though most of what was left now was still in the form of logs that I would have to saw into blocks and split before we could use it. We also had meat and flour, so we could spare that, but I knew we didn't have any money, so why was Pa buying them shoes and candy? Really, why was he doing any of this? Widow Jensen had closer neighbors than us; it shouldn't have been our concern.
We came in from the blind side of the Jensen house and unloaded the wood as quietly as possible, then we took the meat and flour and shoes to the door. We knocked. The door opened a crack and a timid voice said, "Who is it?" "Lucas Miles, Ma'am, and my son, Matt, could we come in for a bit?"
Widow Jensen opened the door and let us in. She had a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. The children were wrapped in another and were sitting in front of the fireplace by a very small fire that hardly gave off any heat at all. Widow Jensen fumbled with a match and finally lit the lamp.
"We brought you a few things, Ma'am," Pa said and set down the sack of flour. I put the meat on the table. Then Pa handed her the sack that had the shoes in it. She opened it hesitantly and took the shoes out one pair at a time. There was a pair for her and one for each of the children--sturdy shoes, the best, shoes that would last. I watched her carefully. She bit her lower lip to keep it from trembling and then tears filled her eyes and started running down her cheeks. She looked up at Pa like she wanted to say something, but it wouldn't come out.
"We brought a load of wood too, Ma'am," Pa said. He turned to me and said, "Matt, go bring in enough to last awhile. Let's get that fire up to size and heat this place up." I wasn't the same person when I went back out to bring in the wood. I had a big lump in my throat and as much as I hate to admit it, there were tears in my eyes too. In my mind I kept seeing those three kids huddled around the fireplace and their mother standing there with tears running down her cheeks with so much gratitude in her heart that she couldn't speak. My heart swelled within me and a joy that I'd never known before filled my soul. I had given at Christmas many times before, but never when it had made so much difference. I could see we were literally saving the lives of these people.
I soon had the fire blazing and everyone's spirits soared. The kids started giggling when Pa handed them each a piece of candy and Widow Jensen looked on with a smile that probably hadn't crossed her face for a long time. She finally turned to us. "God bless you," she said. "I know the Lord has sent you. The children and I have been praying that he would send one of his angels to spare us."
In spite of myself, the lump returned to my throat and the tears welled up in my eyes again. I'd never thought of Pa in those exact terms before, but after Widow Jensen mentioned it I could see that it was probably true. I was sure that a better man than Pa had never walked the earth. I started remembering all the times he had gone out of his way for Ma and me, and many others. The list seemed endless as I thought on it.
Pa insisted that everyone try on the shoes before we left. I was amazed when they all fit and I wondered how he had known what sizes to get. Then I guessed that if he was on an errand for the Lord that the Lord would make sure he got the right sizes.
Tears were running down Widow Jensen's face again when we stood up to leave. Pa took each of the kids in his big arms and gave them a hug. They clung to him and didn't want us to go. I could see that they missed their Pa, and I was glad that I still had mine.
At the door Pa turned to Widow Jensen and said, "The Mrs. wanted me to invite you and the children over for Christmas dinner tomorrow. The turkey will be more than the three of us can eat, and a man can get cantankerous if he has to eat turkey for too many meals. We'll be by to get you about eleven. It'll be nice to have some little ones around again. Matt, here, hasn't been little for quite a spell." I was the youngest. My two brothers and two sisters had all married and had moved away.
Widow Jensen nodded and said, "Thank you, Brother Miles. I don't have to say, May the Lord bless you, I know for certain that He will."
Out on the sled I felt a warmth that came from deep within and I didn't even notice the cold. When we had gone a ways, Pa turned to me and said, "Matt, I want you to know something. Your ma and me have been tucking a little money away here and there all year so we could buy that rifle for you, but we didn't have quite enough. Then yesterday a man who owed me a little money from years back came by to make things square. Your ma and me were real excited, thinking that now we could get you that rifle, and I started into town this morning to do just that, but on the way I saw little Jakey out scratching in the woodpile with his feet wrapped in those gunny sacksand I knew what I had to do. Son, I spent the money for shoes and a little candy for those children. I hope you understand."
I understood, and my eyes became wet with tears again. I understood very well, and I was so glad Pa had done it. Now the rifle seemed very low on my list of priorities. Pa had given me a lot more. He had given me the look on Widow Jensen's face and the radiant smiles of her three children. For the rest of my life, Whenever I saw any of the Jensen's, or split a block of wood, I remembered, and remembering brought back that same joy I felt riding home beside Pa that night. Pa had given me much more than a rifle that night, he had given me the best Christmas of my life.
Pa never had much compassion for the lazy or those who squandered their means and then never had enough for the necessities. But for those who were genuinely in need, his heart was as big as all outdoors. It was from him that I learned the greatest joy in life comes from giving, not from receiving.
It was Christmas Eve 1881. I was fifteen years old and feeling like the world had caved in on me because there just hadn't been enough money to buy me the rifle that I'd wanted for Christmas.
We did the chores early that night for some reason. I just figured Pa wanted a little extra time so we could read in the Bible. After supper was over I took my boots off and stretched out in front of the fireplace and waited for Pa to get down the old Bible.
I was still feeling sorry for myself and, to be honest, I wasn't in much of a mood to read Scriptures. But Pa didn't get the Bible, instead he bundled up again and went outside. I couldn't figure it out because we had already done all the chores. I didn't worry about it long though, I was too busy wallowing in self-pity.
Soon Pa came back in. It was a cold clear night out and there was ice in his beard. "Come on, Matt," he said. "Bundle up good, it's cold out tonight." I was really upset then. Not only wasn't I getting the rifle for Christmas, now Pa was dragging me out in the cold, and for no earthly reason that I could see. We'd already done all the chores, and I couldn't think of anything else that needed doing, especially not on a night like this. But I knew Pa was not very patient at one dragging one's feet when he'd told them to do something, so I got up and put my boots back on and got my cap, coat, and mittens. Ma gave me a mysterious smile as I opened the door to leave the house. Something was up, but I didn't know what.
Outside, I became even more dismayed. There in front of the house was the work team, already hitched to the big sled. Whatever it was we were goingto do wasn't going to be a short, quick, little job. I could tell. We never hitched up this sled unless we were going to haul a big load. Pa was already up on the seat, reins in hand. I reluctantly climbed up beside him. The cold was already biting at me. I wasn't happy. When I was on, Pa pulled the sled around the house and stopped in front of the woodshed. He got off and I followed. "I think we'll put on the high sideboards," he said. "Here, help me." The high sideboards! It had been a bigger job than I wanted to do with just the low sideboards on, but whatever it was we were going to do would be a lot bigger with the high side boards on.
After we had exchanged the sideboards, Pa went into the woodshed and cameout with an armload of wood - the wood I'd spent all summer hauling down from the mountain, and then all fall sawing into blocks and splitting. What was he doing? Finally I said something. "Pa," I asked, "what are you doing?" You been by the Widow Jensen's lately?" he asked. The Widow Jensen lived about two miles down the road. Her husband had died a year or so before and left her with three children, the oldest being eight. Sure,I'd been by, but so what?
Yeah," I said, "Why?"
"I rode by just today," Pa said. "Little Jakey was out digging around in the woodpile trying to find a few chips. They're out of wood, Matt." That was all he said and then he turned and went back into the woodshed for another armload of wood. I followed him. We loaded the sled so high that I began to wonder if the horses would be able to pull it. Finally, Pa called a halt to our loading, then we went to the smoke house and Pa took down a big ham and a side of bacon. He handed them to me and told me to put them in the sledand wait. When he returned he was carrying a sack of flour over his right shoulder and a smaller sack of something in his left hand.
"What's in the little sack?" I asked. Shoes, they're out of shoes. Little Jakey just had gunny sacks wrapped around his feet when he was out in the woodpile this morning. I got the children a little candy too. It just wouldn't be Christmas without a little candy."
We rode the two miles to Widow Jensen's pretty much in silence. I tried to think through what Pa was doing. We didn't have much by worldly standards. Of course, we did have a big woodpile, though most of what was left now was still in the form of logs that I would have to saw into blocks and split before we could use it. We also had meat and flour, so we could spare that, but I knew we didn't have any money, so why was Pa buying them shoes and candy? Really, why was he doing any of this? Widow Jensen had closer neighbors than us; it shouldn't have been our concern.
We came in from the blind side of the Jensen house and unloaded the wood as quietly as possible, then we took the meat and flour and shoes to the door. We knocked. The door opened a crack and a timid voice said, "Who is it?" "Lucas Miles, Ma'am, and my son, Matt, could we come in for a bit?"
Widow Jensen opened the door and let us in. She had a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. The children were wrapped in another and were sitting in front of the fireplace by a very small fire that hardly gave off any heat at all. Widow Jensen fumbled with a match and finally lit the lamp.
"We brought you a few things, Ma'am," Pa said and set down the sack of flour. I put the meat on the table. Then Pa handed her the sack that had the shoes in it. She opened it hesitantly and took the shoes out one pair at a time. There was a pair for her and one for each of the children--sturdy shoes, the best, shoes that would last. I watched her carefully. She bit her lower lip to keep it from trembling and then tears filled her eyes and started running down her cheeks. She looked up at Pa like she wanted to say something, but it wouldn't come out.
"We brought a load of wood too, Ma'am," Pa said. He turned to me and said, "Matt, go bring in enough to last awhile. Let's get that fire up to size and heat this place up." I wasn't the same person when I went back out to bring in the wood. I had a big lump in my throat and as much as I hate to admit it, there were tears in my eyes too. In my mind I kept seeing those three kids huddled around the fireplace and their mother standing there with tears running down her cheeks with so much gratitude in her heart that she couldn't speak. My heart swelled within me and a joy that I'd never known before filled my soul. I had given at Christmas many times before, but never when it had made so much difference. I could see we were literally saving the lives of these people.
I soon had the fire blazing and everyone's spirits soared. The kids started giggling when Pa handed them each a piece of candy and Widow Jensen looked on with a smile that probably hadn't crossed her face for a long time. She finally turned to us. "God bless you," she said. "I know the Lord has sent you. The children and I have been praying that he would send one of his angels to spare us."
In spite of myself, the lump returned to my throat and the tears welled up in my eyes again. I'd never thought of Pa in those exact terms before, but after Widow Jensen mentioned it I could see that it was probably true. I was sure that a better man than Pa had never walked the earth. I started remembering all the times he had gone out of his way for Ma and me, and many others. The list seemed endless as I thought on it.
Pa insisted that everyone try on the shoes before we left. I was amazed when they all fit and I wondered how he had known what sizes to get. Then I guessed that if he was on an errand for the Lord that the Lord would make sure he got the right sizes.
Tears were running down Widow Jensen's face again when we stood up to leave. Pa took each of the kids in his big arms and gave them a hug. They clung to him and didn't want us to go. I could see that they missed their Pa, and I was glad that I still had mine.
At the door Pa turned to Widow Jensen and said, "The Mrs. wanted me to invite you and the children over for Christmas dinner tomorrow. The turkey will be more than the three of us can eat, and a man can get cantankerous if he has to eat turkey for too many meals. We'll be by to get you about eleven. It'll be nice to have some little ones around again. Matt, here, hasn't been little for quite a spell." I was the youngest. My two brothers and two sisters had all married and had moved away.
Widow Jensen nodded and said, "Thank you, Brother Miles. I don't have to say, May the Lord bless you, I know for certain that He will."
Out on the sled I felt a warmth that came from deep within and I didn't even notice the cold. When we had gone a ways, Pa turned to me and said, "Matt, I want you to know something. Your ma and me have been tucking a little money away here and there all year so we could buy that rifle for you, but we didn't have quite enough. Then yesterday a man who owed me a little money from years back came by to make things square. Your ma and me were real excited, thinking that now we could get you that rifle, and I started into town this morning to do just that, but on the way I saw little Jakey out scratching in the woodpile with his feet wrapped in those gunny sacksand I knew what I had to do. Son, I spent the money for shoes and a little candy for those children. I hope you understand."
I understood, and my eyes became wet with tears again. I understood very well, and I was so glad Pa had done it. Now the rifle seemed very low on my list of priorities. Pa had given me a lot more. He had given me the look on Widow Jensen's face and the radiant smiles of her three children. For the rest of my life, Whenever I saw any of the Jensen's, or split a block of wood, I remembered, and remembering brought back that same joy I felt riding home beside Pa that night. Pa had given me much more than a rifle that night, he had given me the best Christmas of my life.
Thursday, December 18, 2008
The spirit of Christmas
What comes to mind when you think of Christmas? Decorated trees, shopping, colorful lights, expense, cookies, debt, fatigue, joy, football games on TV, Christ’s saving power?
After a flurry of phone calls from people feeling sad and lonely about the Christmas season, I got to thinking about what states of mind would cause one to feel depressed when there is such great reason to celebrate. And I decided it came down to how one thought of Christmas in the first place.
Over the centuries, a lot of mortal traditions and practices have been added onto Christmas. Today, in my culture anyway, Christmas is often associated with shopping, buying and giving presents, parties, get-togethers with family, meals, desserts, colorful decorations, and yes, a few church services celebrating the birth of Jesus Christ on Christmas Eve. The spiritual significance of the day often gets lost in the preponderance of commercialism and society surrounding the event, though.
I reasoned, that if one's concept of Christmas becomes diluted and besieged by the social and commercial aspects commonly associated with the day, it’s easy to see how one might get depressed and demoralized about Christmas.
For example, if one associates Christmas with family get-togethers, and that one has no family, they might feel left out or excluded from something good. Or, if one associates Christmas with receiving presents from others, and doesn’t get any presents, they might feel forgotten and left out. And the list goes on…
Anytime one feels lack, loss or deprivation, it’s typically a sign that hope is being placed in something material that doesn’t work out.
So, what's the remedy?
It’s to move hope and expectancy from the material to the spiritual.
Christmas is about the coming of Christ. It's true significance has nothing to do with parties and meals and cookies and drink. It’s a spiritual event that occurs within, in a very private place between us and God.
The birth of Jesus was fulfillment of the prophesied Messiah—the Word made flesh—the healing power of God apparent in a form that humanity could understand at the time. Today, Christ is at work in the form of divine Science leavening human consciousness around the planet with healing spiritual truth.
Christmas day serves to remind us of Christ’s on-going activity, saving mankind from sin, disease and death beliefs.
So how do we participate in the fullness of Christmas? Through quiet prayer, most likely, turning to God and striving to understand Christ better and the benefits received from Christ loving and caring for us.
When catching the true spirit of Christmas, it’s impossible to be lonely for Christ fills the void with spiritual understanding and love that meets the deepest human needs.
Getting together with family or friends is certainly a fine activity. Nothing wrong with that! But if one is not part of an active social circle, that doesn’t mean they can’t have just as joyous a Christmas day as anyone else. Christ is what makes the day special, and Christ speaks and companions each of us no matter where we are or what kind of circumstances we face.
True Christmas is not a social activity, but a spiritual event everyone has been invited to. Accept the invitation and enjoy the company!
Lots of love...
After a flurry of phone calls from people feeling sad and lonely about the Christmas season, I got to thinking about what states of mind would cause one to feel depressed when there is such great reason to celebrate. And I decided it came down to how one thought of Christmas in the first place.
Over the centuries, a lot of mortal traditions and practices have been added onto Christmas. Today, in my culture anyway, Christmas is often associated with shopping, buying and giving presents, parties, get-togethers with family, meals, desserts, colorful decorations, and yes, a few church services celebrating the birth of Jesus Christ on Christmas Eve. The spiritual significance of the day often gets lost in the preponderance of commercialism and society surrounding the event, though.
I reasoned, that if one's concept of Christmas becomes diluted and besieged by the social and commercial aspects commonly associated with the day, it’s easy to see how one might get depressed and demoralized about Christmas.
For example, if one associates Christmas with family get-togethers, and that one has no family, they might feel left out or excluded from something good. Or, if one associates Christmas with receiving presents from others, and doesn’t get any presents, they might feel forgotten and left out. And the list goes on…
Anytime one feels lack, loss or deprivation, it’s typically a sign that hope is being placed in something material that doesn’t work out.
So, what's the remedy?
It’s to move hope and expectancy from the material to the spiritual.
Christmas is about the coming of Christ. It's true significance has nothing to do with parties and meals and cookies and drink. It’s a spiritual event that occurs within, in a very private place between us and God.
The birth of Jesus was fulfillment of the prophesied Messiah—the Word made flesh—the healing power of God apparent in a form that humanity could understand at the time. Today, Christ is at work in the form of divine Science leavening human consciousness around the planet with healing spiritual truth.
Christmas day serves to remind us of Christ’s on-going activity, saving mankind from sin, disease and death beliefs.
So how do we participate in the fullness of Christmas? Through quiet prayer, most likely, turning to God and striving to understand Christ better and the benefits received from Christ loving and caring for us.
When catching the true spirit of Christmas, it’s impossible to be lonely for Christ fills the void with spiritual understanding and love that meets the deepest human needs.
Getting together with family or friends is certainly a fine activity. Nothing wrong with that! But if one is not part of an active social circle, that doesn’t mean they can’t have just as joyous a Christmas day as anyone else. Christ is what makes the day special, and Christ speaks and companions each of us no matter where we are or what kind of circumstances we face.
True Christmas is not a social activity, but a spiritual event everyone has been invited to. Accept the invitation and enjoy the company!
Lots of love...
Sunday, December 16, 2007
There's always enough room
A reader sent me the below, which is one of his favorite Christmas stories picked up from a 1966 Reader’s Digest.
It was the biggest event of the year in the little town of Cornwall – the annual Christmas pageant, starring many of the people of the town.
The night of the pageant, you had to get there early just to get a seat.
It was the biggest event of the year in the little town of Cornwall – the annual Christmas pageant, starring many of the people of the town.
When it came time for casting the various parts, every parent wanted their son or daughter to be included. On audition day, it didn’t take long to match every part with just the right person. But then there was Harold. The little guy really wanted a part. But because of his learning disabilities, the directors kept passing him over. But Harold just kept popping up again, asking for a part. Finally, the directors gave in and gave him what they judged to be a no-risk part – the innkeeper who comes to the door and tells Mary and Joseph the inn is full. It was a part with only one simple line.
Little did they know that the stage had been set for the most memorable Christmas pageant they had ever seen.
The night of the pageant, you had to get there early just to get a seat.
Backstage, the shepherds were putting on their bathrobes, the angels were adjusting their haloes, and everyone was reviewing their lines. The directors were going over Harold’s line with him one more time – “Remember, Harold – ‘I’m sorry, we have no room.’” Slowly, but surely, Harold repeated his line.
The men of the church had built a set that portrayed Bethlehem in the background, a manger on the right, and the inn on the left.
As Act One neared its end, a weary Mary and Joseph trudged up to the inn door, desperately looking for shelter. Joseph knocked on the inn door. Nothing happened. Backstage the front rows could hear the director whispering, “Now, Harold!” The set began to shake as Harold struggled to get the inn door open. Then, standing there in his bathrobe, Harold listened as Joseph begged for a room for his pregnant wife.
Harold said nothing.
Harold said nothing.
Again, the backstage whisper - “I’m sorry, we have no room.”
Another long pause.
Finally, Harold struggled through his line – “I’m sorry . . . we have no room.” Then he slowly closed the door.
It was as Mary and Joseph began to turn away that totally unforgettable moment came – the one no one would ever forget.
Suddenly, the set started to shake again as Harold again struggled to get the door open. Before the stunned director could get to him, Harold opened the door and ran after the departing Mary and Joseph. And loud enough for people in the basement to hear, Harold shouted - “Wait! Wait! You can have MY room!”
Tuesday, December 11, 2007
Giving time
Wondering what to give this Christmas?
Here’s a thought-provoking blog post by Nipun Mehta, which is no one I know, on the benefits of giving your time over spending your money for gifts that have meaning.
Here’s a thought-provoking blog post by Nipun Mehta, which is no one I know, on the benefits of giving your time over spending your money for gifts that have meaning.
Sunday, December 9, 2007
The roots of Christmas
The following fact about the origins of Christmas printed in The Tri-City Herald as a letter to the Editor today gave me much to think about.It read, in part,
“December 25 originally was the celebrated ‘birthday of the sun god’ and a time of merriment for ‘sun god’ worshippers. Roman Emperor Constantine ‘became a Christian.’ To give political cohesion and stability to his empire of pagan and Christian populations, he merged pagan and Christian practices. Thus, December 25 officially became the birthday of the ‘sun god’ and the son of God.”
Wow. What an eye-opener. It makes me ask how much of my celebration of Christmas is influenced by “sun god” worship (a matter-god), compared to how much time and thought energy is spent on worship of the one true God, infinite Love.
Wednesday, July 18, 2007
An answered prayer
The following is a story from a President Ballantyne who told of a special Christmas season from his boyhood days. Ballantyne grew up in Star Valley, Wyoming, which is harsh country. The summers are short and fleeting, while the winters linger and chill.
Father had a large family; and sometimes after we had our harvest, there was not much left after expenses were paid. So Father would have to go away and hire out to some of the big ranchers for maybe a dollar a day. He earned little more than enough to take care of himself, with very little to send home to Mother and the children. Things began to get pretty skimpy for us.
We had our family prayers around the table; and it was on one such night when Father was gone that we gathered and Mother poured out of a pitcher, into the glass of each one, milk divided among the children—but none for herself. And I, sensing that the milk in the pitcher was all that we had, pushed mine over to Mother and said, "Here, Mother. You drink mine."
“No, Mother is not hungry tonight.”
It worried me. We drank our milk and went to bed, but I could not sleep. I got up and tiptoed down the stairs, and there was Mother, in the middle of the floor, kneeling in prayer. She did not hear me as I came down in my bare feet, and I dropped to my knees and heard her say, “Heavenly Father, there is no food in our house. Please, Father, touch the heart of somebody so that my children will not be hungry in the morning.”
When she finished her prayer, she looked around and saw that I had heard; and she said to me, somewhat embarrassed, “Now, you run along, son. Everything will be all right.”
I went to bed, assured by Mother’s faith. The next morning, I was awakened by the sounds of pots and pans in the kitchen and the aroma of cooking food. I went down to the kitchen, and I said, “Mother, I thought you said there was no food.”
All she said to me was, “Well, my boy, didn’t you think the Lord would answer my prayer?” I received no further explanation than that.
Years passed, and I went away to college. I got married, and I returned to see the old folks. Bishop Gardner, now reaching up to a ripe age, said to me, “My son, let me tell you of a Christmas experience that I had with your family. I had finished my chores, and we had had supper. I was sitting by the fireplace reading the newspaper. Suddenly, I heard a voice that said, “Sister Ballantyne doesn’t have any food in her house.” I thought it was my wife speaking and said, “What did you say, Mother?” She came in wiping her hands on her apron and said, “Did you call me, Father?”
“No, I didn’t say anything to you, but I heard a voice which spoke to me.”
“What did it say?” she asked.
“It said that Sister Ballantyne didn’t have any food in her house.”
“Well, then,” said Mother, “you had better put on your shoes and your coat and take some food to Sister Ballantyne.”
In the dark of that winter’s night, I harnessed the team and placed in the wagon bed a sack of flour, a quarter section of beef, some bottled fruit, and loaves of newly baked bread. The weather was cold, but a warm glow filled my soul as your mother welcomed me and I presented her with the food. God had heard a mother’s prayer.
Father had a large family; and sometimes after we had our harvest, there was not much left after expenses were paid. So Father would have to go away and hire out to some of the big ranchers for maybe a dollar a day. He earned little more than enough to take care of himself, with very little to send home to Mother and the children. Things began to get pretty skimpy for us.
We had our family prayers around the table; and it was on one such night when Father was gone that we gathered and Mother poured out of a pitcher, into the glass of each one, milk divided among the children—but none for herself. And I, sensing that the milk in the pitcher was all that we had, pushed mine over to Mother and said, "Here, Mother. You drink mine."
“No, Mother is not hungry tonight.”
It worried me. We drank our milk and went to bed, but I could not sleep. I got up and tiptoed down the stairs, and there was Mother, in the middle of the floor, kneeling in prayer. She did not hear me as I came down in my bare feet, and I dropped to my knees and heard her say, “Heavenly Father, there is no food in our house. Please, Father, touch the heart of somebody so that my children will not be hungry in the morning.”
When she finished her prayer, she looked around and saw that I had heard; and she said to me, somewhat embarrassed, “Now, you run along, son. Everything will be all right.”
I went to bed, assured by Mother’s faith. The next morning, I was awakened by the sounds of pots and pans in the kitchen and the aroma of cooking food. I went down to the kitchen, and I said, “Mother, I thought you said there was no food.”
All she said to me was, “Well, my boy, didn’t you think the Lord would answer my prayer?” I received no further explanation than that.
Years passed, and I went away to college. I got married, and I returned to see the old folks. Bishop Gardner, now reaching up to a ripe age, said to me, “My son, let me tell you of a Christmas experience that I had with your family. I had finished my chores, and we had had supper. I was sitting by the fireplace reading the newspaper. Suddenly, I heard a voice that said, “Sister Ballantyne doesn’t have any food in her house.” I thought it was my wife speaking and said, “What did you say, Mother?” She came in wiping her hands on her apron and said, “Did you call me, Father?”
“No, I didn’t say anything to you, but I heard a voice which spoke to me.”
“What did it say?” she asked.
“It said that Sister Ballantyne didn’t have any food in her house.”
“Well, then,” said Mother, “you had better put on your shoes and your coat and take some food to Sister Ballantyne.”
In the dark of that winter’s night, I harnessed the team and placed in the wagon bed a sack of flour, a quarter section of beef, some bottled fruit, and loaves of newly baked bread. The weather was cold, but a warm glow filled my soul as your mother welcomed me and I presented her with the food. God had heard a mother’s prayer.
Monday, January 1, 2007
Christmas week
My family and I got back Saturday from a 9 day trip to our cabin in the Blue Mountains in Oregon State, and as usual, the venture was packed full of spiritual lessons.
We had a great time—peaceful, fun, and spiritually progressive.
We always pray together for health, safety and wise decision-making before going on a trip. “An ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure,” as the old proverb goes. We can always find a cure when we need one, but preventing a problem in the first place is most desirable!
Except for one evening when Tyler came back severely limping in great pain and distress from bending his leg backward in a hole while running down a snow covered hill in the dark, all went well!
While sitting with him on the couch I reminded him that he was spiritual. He nodded his head in agreement between sobs and listened while I continued to talk to him about his indestructible and unhurtable spiritual self. He calmed down quickly and agreed that God was taking care of him and he would be fine. He favored the leg for a day, but was still able to drive a snowmobile and play with his friends. We are grateful for his rapid recovery. He has always been a very spiritually responsive kid.
Here's Tyler on Balloon Tree Ridge:
My sensationless fingers reminded me of the wisdom of not exposing oneself to elements one is not prepared to deal with. This happens frequently in mental environments. People too often naively enter situations they are not equipped to handle metaphysically, and get blind-sided by harmful surprises. We were dressed appropriately for the environment we were in, but were not able to endure without that protection!
“Take unto you the whole armour of God, that ye may be able to withstand in the evil day, and having done all, to stand.”
On our last day in the hills, I said to my family while eating lunch around the cabin table, “This was one of the best Christmas vacations I can remember!” They nodded in agreement. It was a long stretch of time in one place removed from the busy-busy of the world, but with friends, children and neighbors in nearby cabins to enjoy the outdoors with. We came home rested, improved, and ready to begin a new year.
We had a great time—peaceful, fun, and spiritually progressive.
We always pray together for health, safety and wise decision-making before going on a trip. “An ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure,” as the old proverb goes. We can always find a cure when we need one, but preventing a problem in the first place is most desirable!
Except for one evening when Tyler came back severely limping in great pain and distress from bending his leg backward in a hole while running down a snow covered hill in the dark, all went well!
While sitting with him on the couch I reminded him that he was spiritual. He nodded his head in agreement between sobs and listened while I continued to talk to him about his indestructible and unhurtable spiritual self. He calmed down quickly and agreed that God was taking care of him and he would be fine. He favored the leg for a day, but was still able to drive a snowmobile and play with his friends. We are grateful for his rapid recovery. He has always been a very spiritually responsive kid.
Here's Tyler on Balloon Tree Ridge:
Many of you asked how my Christmas day went after I blogged my entry on Christmas eve telling how busy my practice was with emergency cases Christmas 2005.
This year was different! Much calmer than the previous year.
I prayed ahead of time for a day of balance so I could spend a healthy amount of time with my family. I had a dozen or so calls and emails for help, mostly early in the morning, so the holiday was very quiet practice-wise. I was able to cook Christmas dinner with my wife, play Skip-Bo in the afternoon and enjoy a movie with the gang in the evening. It was a bonding progressive day all the way around.
I cannot take a true vacation from my work. My wife knows this.
Whenever we go on a vacation, I take my practice with me. I have such a strong commitment to my patients that I can’t imagine not being available for longer than a half day if a patient expecting to get me calls for help and they really need help. So I’ve learned to set blocks of time aside that I devote wholeheartedly to a family activity, like in the evenings, on the weekends, or on our trips away from home, and then check in with my practice to be sure everyone’s needs are met.
To understand the logic of my work-style you have to understand that the work I do is not work in the traditional understanding of the word. Done rightly, it’s pure bliss and joy. It’s health inducing, happifying and strengthening. My work is to know Truth and Love. No one, in my estimation, can name a single activity in this world that is better for your health, happiness and well being than actively knowing the omnipresence of Truth and Love--which IS practicing Christian Science.
When I stop my work, I start to feel like I’m falling apart. I’m not kidding. That’s when things go downhill. When I keep my thought inspired with spiritual reality, I feel on top of the world, on top of error, and I’m ready to respond to whatever calamity is thrown in my direction. I’m strong. I’m well in a spiritual state of mind. So, to go on a true vacation, for me, is to vacate thought of materialism, disease, and sinful distraction. That’s when I feel my best.
We were particularly adventuresome this week with a pair of Polaris 550 RMK snowmobiles we recently bought. If you want to get a 13 year old boy excited, give him a snowmobile to drive…man, oh man… Thing is, Jenna, our 16 year daughter, had just as much fun as Tyler did riding those power machines.
Here's Jenna all bundled up on a trail:
One evening, we decided to have pizza at the Tollgate Country Store, and part of the fun would be driving our sleds five miles through the forest, at night, to get there. We paired up on each rig. I sat behind Tyler as he navigated his way through the woods. I enjoyed soaking in the scenery, with the stately evergreen trees drenched in the moonlit night, the feather-light layers of white from recent snowfall, and the tranquility of the quiet forest that had not a worry on its still mind.
When we arrived, I spewed out, “Wow! That was such a quiet, peaceful, beautiful trip through the woods.”
My wife retorted, “What quiet? How can you say it was peaceful while riding those loud noisemakers?” Humbled, I realized that I was so caught up in the beauty of our surroundings, I hadn’t noticed the noise of the machines.
Later, I realized there was a lesson there for shutting out the noise of the world to hear the voice of God. Material sense cannot overwhelm our spiritual senses. We must tune-in, like tuning our radio to the station we want to hear. When tuned into one station, we don’t pick up signals going to another.
Friday afternoon, Tyler and I sped the snowmobiles up to Balloon Tree Ridge, a crested hill at the 6000 foot elevation that was an out-of-the-way paradise for sled riders. It was glorious!
Wide open expanse, bumps and hills, dips and turns that would keep any snowmobiler in their element for hours. Whizzing across the open fields at 50 mph gliding over humps catching air over dips and plowing through down-soft snowdrifts is a thrill one doesn’t forget shortly.
Sunny but cold, one had to be dressed warmly to survive. I took off my gloves for a few seconds to maneuver a camera, and my fingers went numb before I could snap one picture. I could not feel the straps on my helmet to buckle it back on so left them dangling until we returned to warmer territory and I was thawed out.
Myself on Balloon Tree Ridge ready to put my helmet back on before I froze:
My sensationless fingers reminded me of the wisdom of not exposing oneself to elements one is not prepared to deal with. This happens frequently in mental environments. People too often naively enter situations they are not equipped to handle metaphysically, and get blind-sided by harmful surprises. We were dressed appropriately for the environment we were in, but were not able to endure without that protection!“Take unto you the whole armour of God, that ye may be able to withstand in the evil day, and having done all, to stand.”
On our last day in the hills, I said to my family while eating lunch around the cabin table, “This was one of the best Christmas vacations I can remember!” They nodded in agreement. It was a long stretch of time in one place removed from the busy-busy of the world, but with friends, children and neighbors in nearby cabins to enjoy the outdoors with. We came home rested, improved, and ready to begin a new year.
Wishing you all a Happy and progressive New Year!
Sunday, December 24, 2006
Meaning of Christmas
A woman called yesterday and agonized, “I don’t get it. What is this Christmas thing all about? The endless gift-giving, the eating, the indulging, the commercialism, the running around and getting stressed out, the people who are left out…and what about that Jesus thing? What is the real meaning of Christmas anyway? I want to know!”
I sympathized with her quandary. In sorting out the meaning of Christmas myself over the years, I believe several practices have been added to the holiday celebration that have little or nothing to do with the real spirit and purpose of the season.
I told my friend that Christmas was about the coming of Christ, or the healing power and presence of God at work our lives now.
I draw my conclusion from what happened in my healing practice last Christmas day.
Normally, my practice is quiet on Christmas day. A few patients might call with emergencies, but most wanting help wait until the next day when the holiday is finished.
Last year, however, was an exception. I had a large number of patients call for help on December 25th, and most with life-threatening crises. I spent a large part of the day in consecrated prayer for my callers, and some wonderful healings happened. But, honestly, there were a couple of times when I started to feel sorry for myself because of the large amount of time I had to spend away from my family. I didn’t entertain these suggestions very long. My family was very understanding, and I made it up to them later, but there was a lesson on the real meaning of Christmas for me to gain, and I’ve been thinking on it ever since.
The real meaning of Christmas, I’ve decided, is all about spiritual healing.
Christmas signifies the coming of Christ. Christ was sent by God to heal humanity of its sin and suffering. Whenever we welcome Christ into our life, we experience healing, moral, physical and spiritual.
To celebrate Christmas is to celebrate the coming of Christ, or healing power of God at work in our lives right here right now.
The real spirit of Christmas is not about over-eating, over-shopping, idling hours away in front of the TV, or generally checking out of life for a day. It’s about God’s love for us, cultivating spiritual mindedness, praying for neighbors in need, being close to God and reflecting God’s healing power. It’s about healing the world of sin and suffering!
And that’s what I was doing last Christmas, helping and healing my neighbor.
I was not missing out at all, but more fully participating in real Christmas, and my family could not miss out either by having me thus occupied because they were supporting what I was doing, and that meant they were participating in the healing activity too and would be blessed accordingly.
I’ve learned my lesson about what real Christmas is, so I expect a more orderly day this year, with fewer emergency calls. I can pray for that outcome ahead of time, you know!!
I still bought Christmas presents this season, will help cook a Christmas dinner tomorrow, and will play games with my family. But the real meaning of Christmas, helping my neighbor spiritually with Christly healing power, will be uppermost in my thought.
With war raging in the Mid-East and in Darfur, tension building around the globe and conflict amidst families large and small, the world cries out for true Christmas peace. Let us embrace our fellowman near and far with Christly love this 25th, (and everyday!) and collectively fulfill the purpose of Christmas—Peace on earth, goodwill toward men.
Have a great day.
I sympathized with her quandary. In sorting out the meaning of Christmas myself over the years, I believe several practices have been added to the holiday celebration that have little or nothing to do with the real spirit and purpose of the season.
I told my friend that Christmas was about the coming of Christ, or the healing power and presence of God at work our lives now.
I draw my conclusion from what happened in my healing practice last Christmas day.
Normally, my practice is quiet on Christmas day. A few patients might call with emergencies, but most wanting help wait until the next day when the holiday is finished.
Last year, however, was an exception. I had a large number of patients call for help on December 25th, and most with life-threatening crises. I spent a large part of the day in consecrated prayer for my callers, and some wonderful healings happened. But, honestly, there were a couple of times when I started to feel sorry for myself because of the large amount of time I had to spend away from my family. I didn’t entertain these suggestions very long. My family was very understanding, and I made it up to them later, but there was a lesson on the real meaning of Christmas for me to gain, and I’ve been thinking on it ever since.
The real meaning of Christmas, I’ve decided, is all about spiritual healing.
Christmas signifies the coming of Christ. Christ was sent by God to heal humanity of its sin and suffering. Whenever we welcome Christ into our life, we experience healing, moral, physical and spiritual.
To celebrate Christmas is to celebrate the coming of Christ, or healing power of God at work in our lives right here right now.
The real spirit of Christmas is not about over-eating, over-shopping, idling hours away in front of the TV, or generally checking out of life for a day. It’s about God’s love for us, cultivating spiritual mindedness, praying for neighbors in need, being close to God and reflecting God’s healing power. It’s about healing the world of sin and suffering!
And that’s what I was doing last Christmas, helping and healing my neighbor.
I was not missing out at all, but more fully participating in real Christmas, and my family could not miss out either by having me thus occupied because they were supporting what I was doing, and that meant they were participating in the healing activity too and would be blessed accordingly.
I’ve learned my lesson about what real Christmas is, so I expect a more orderly day this year, with fewer emergency calls. I can pray for that outcome ahead of time, you know!!
I still bought Christmas presents this season, will help cook a Christmas dinner tomorrow, and will play games with my family. But the real meaning of Christmas, helping my neighbor spiritually with Christly healing power, will be uppermost in my thought.
With war raging in the Mid-East and in Darfur, tension building around the globe and conflict amidst families large and small, the world cries out for true Christmas peace. Let us embrace our fellowman near and far with Christly love this 25th, (and everyday!) and collectively fulfill the purpose of Christmas—Peace on earth, goodwill toward men.
Have a great day.
Friday, December 22, 2006
Out of debt at Christmastime
Ever worried about debt? Wonder what the spirit of Christmas has to do with paying the bills?
Check out Chris Raymond’s, “The light of Christmas,” that shows how the light of Christ led her out of the darkness of too many bills to pay.
Nice work Chris! It’s a great piece.
Check out Chris Raymond’s, “The light of Christmas,” that shows how the light of Christ led her out of the darkness of too many bills to pay.
Nice work Chris! It’s a great piece.
Sunday, December 10, 2006
Anonymous giving
While paying bills last night, I made a couple of charitable donations to local missions and food banks that feed the homeless and care for the less fortunate. As I wrote the checks, I felt great joy well within for the selfless service of the organizations that provided these community members aid, and also for having funds available to send them and support their cause.
I had been Christmas shopping yesterday also, so had the idea of buying and giving gifts fresh on my mind. But after sealing the envelopes headed for these charities and gracing t
hem with stamps, the feeling of genuine satisfaction was so great in me, that I had to stop and ask myself, “Why does this type of giving give me so much joy?”
I pondered the question all night. And finally, the answer came clearly, “Because you’re giving to people of whom you expect absolutely nothing from in return.”
People offer gifts to others for all types of good reasons, but one of the greatest, I believe, is when we give because we want to give, and not because we expect, or have already received, something in return.
Isn’t this the type of gift God has offered us through the life and teaching of Jesus Christ--the “reason for the season”--as the old adage goes?
God gives to us because He loves us. His spiritual gifts are unconditional. Like the sun shines freely and beneficently upon one and all, God blesses each of us with eternal life and love without our even asking for them.
I’m still going to give presents to my wife and family because I love them and want them to know I value all the kindness and care they bestow upon me throughout the year. But I’m also appreciating more the great spiritual benefits that come to the giver who gives secretly and anonymously. There is a certain deep peace and joy that comes from selfless giving that infinitely transcends any amount of attention or adoration heaped upon our person by those who receive our gifts. And this joy and peace, coming from within, is perhaps the greatest gift of all!
I had been Christmas shopping yesterday also, so had the idea of buying and giving gifts fresh on my mind. But after sealing the envelopes headed for these charities and gracing t
hem with stamps, the feeling of genuine satisfaction was so great in me, that I had to stop and ask myself, “Why does this type of giving give me so much joy?”I pondered the question all night. And finally, the answer came clearly, “Because you’re giving to people of whom you expect absolutely nothing from in return.”
People offer gifts to others for all types of good reasons, but one of the greatest, I believe, is when we give because we want to give, and not because we expect, or have already received, something in return.
Isn’t this the type of gift God has offered us through the life and teaching of Jesus Christ--the “reason for the season”--as the old adage goes?
God gives to us because He loves us. His spiritual gifts are unconditional. Like the sun shines freely and beneficently upon one and all, God blesses each of us with eternal life and love without our even asking for them.
I’m still going to give presents to my wife and family because I love them and want them to know I value all the kindness and care they bestow upon me throughout the year. But I’m also appreciating more the great spiritual benefits that come to the giver who gives secretly and anonymously. There is a certain deep peace and joy that comes from selfless giving that infinitely transcends any amount of attention or adoration heaped upon our person by those who receive our gifts. And this joy and peace, coming from within, is perhaps the greatest gift of all!
“Take heed that ye do not your alms before men, to be seen of them: otherwise ye have no reward of your Father which is in heaven.
"Therefore when thou doest thine alms, do not sound a trumpet before thee, as the hypocrites do in the synagogues and in the streets, that they may have glory of men. Verily I say unto you, They have their reward.
But when thou doest alms, let not thy left hand know what thy right hand doeth: That thine alms may be in secret: and thy Father which seeth in secret himself shall reward thee openly." Matthew
