Sense the Scent of Christmas

As a child the scent of pine drifted from the mostly unused lounge room when the door was opened by my mother who held a dustpan and brush in her hand.  Her eyes scanning the floor for pine needles that had  fallen off the limb that posed as a Christmas tree, deck in magnificent glittering decorations.

Most of the decorations were made of glass.  The red, green and gold balls, toy soldiers, Santa's and angels had to be handled with gentle care.  Bells were made of metal and rang when moved from side to side.

Electric lights that looked like small candles were unrolled and placed on the floor, then plugged into a power point.  My parents always hoped for working lights, one blown bulb would stop all the other bulbs from working.  I was amazed that one broken element in a globe could turn off so many lights.  The set I have now is not that fussy, one or two lights that don't work are not noticed.

Reaching up to the top of the limb my father always placed a angel.  This reminded me of the shepherds out in the field with their sheep, terrified by angels singing "Hosanna to God in the highest".  What the shepherds saw and heard terrified them so much that one of the angels had to tell these men not to be afraid.  What was happening was Good News.

Reassured by the angels words the shepherds hurried off to Bethlehem to see for themselves what all the commotion was about.  For a shepherd to take off and leave his sheep in the field unattended is extraordinary behaviour.  As a child I was on a sheep farm and understood that sheep need a shepherd.  Sheep seem to find trouble for themselves, but that is another story.

Years have flown past, only those with mileage on the odometer claim that phrase, now the Christmas tree comes out of a box stored in the shed for forty-eight weeks of the year, and pine is no longer the scent in the house. The decorations are impossible to break if dropped.  They possess bounce these days.   I could claim that something has been lost because my tree is artificial, but the forest and farmers could not supply a real tree to everyone each year.


Christmas for Christians comes with symbolism embedded into the decorations, the tree, the feast.  Some are personal others traditional but all give meaning to this time of the year.  The custom of decorating a Christmas tree has only been around for 500 years but the custom captures the Good News of the birth of a Baby given names of Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace so well.  The sight of a glittering decorated tree is full of promise of gifts to receive and to give.

 

Change Is a Roller-coaster

The last six weeks have been a roller-coaster ride of change.  Some has been good and expected.

 My youngest child is now all grown up, he has gained his drivers licence and bought a car with money he saved over three or four years.

The biggest change came four days before my son got his drivers licence and the change was unexpected.  I received news that my 84 year old mother had suffer a stroke.  The medical term used to describe the severity or her stroke was "significant".  After a week or two we deciphered this word "significant" to mean "major and lucky to survive".  The stroke has left most of my mother's right side paralysed.

The unexpected and most likely unwanted change for my mother has been moving to a bed in a nursing home.  The hospital has done all they can for her, the doctors have advised us that any further improvements will be minor.  She will not go back to her unit in the retirement village, her mind is still muddled and would not be able to turn a TV on let alone get out of bed by herself.

 Even harder to accept is that her speech has been affected too, and we find communicating with her difficult.  So her children don't know if she understands exactly what is happening in her life.


Jumbled in all of this change for myself, my brothers and my mother......

......... the rooster that was attacked by a dog has is tail feathers back.

And when you have a rooster or two walking around with the hens......one of the hens disappears for a while and then one night the hen comes back with extra's.

So, this month has taught me that not all change is bad, and some change is an achievement in one's life journey.  The answer to the question as to 'Why do bad things happen?'  Has to be left to the future.  All I do know is that when things get really terrible in the present, that is when you pass the parcel to the Lord and ask him to take some of the load.  

As yet I don't have answers to any of my questions, but that in itself is not enough to say there isn't an answer.  Sometimes I have to look back to realise that there was an answer, I just didn't see it at the time and then the answer might be as simple as learning to trust my Lord in both good and bad experiences.    

Memory

August is the month for wattles in flower and the first daffodils.  Natures signal that winter is passing.  I can hear the birds change their song from, I'm around, to, I am here where are you, our nest needs order.

The sheep in the paddock next door, they remember me, for the handful of grass tossed over the fence. Their owner, as far as the sheep are concerned, does not provide enough hay for nibbling.  I try not to toss too much grass over the fence, because when the sheep see me, they remember the handfuls of grass, and stand at the fence asking, begging for a treat.  For a little bit of quiet, I end up giving them more grass, habit forming I think.

While I sit typing this post, I can hear a young magpie warbling over the buzz of  lawn mowers cutting grass.  The days still have a chill, but I can see the subtle changes that a new season brings.

Memory of the dry, water restricted, smoke filled years of the last decade are fading.  They have been replaced with memories of drenching rain and floods.

picture courtesy Wikimedia Commons

But after the storm, the sun comes out and shines, the rainbow glows, and reminds me that God still has promise in place.  There will always be high ground.  God remembers.



Much better than I did. I was busy, that much I remember,  I just can't remember what the busy was about, possibly lost myself in a book, or was it the mending pile.  By the time memory kicked in, I had missed the deadline for the sign up to the Christian Writer's August Blog Chain.  So this is unofficial.  I do apologize.

Noble Bucket of Pursuit.

I have been on a search for the perfect blog post, one that bounces around pinging like the sonar in a TV submarine, and manages to pop a few dollars in the bank account.


I am consigning this search to my Noble Bucket of Pursuits.  My search reminds me of the people who came to the Beechworth gold fields a hundred and sixty years ago, must add though that typing up a post for a blog is a much easier process than digging a hole in the hope that there might be a nugget or five in the spot you chose to dig.

Lake Anderson, Chiltern Vic. Australia

The dig for gold idea comes with the danger of a collapsing hole, then what do you do with the hole? Start again, or go somewhere else that may or may not do the same, and hope that if it does collapse your not at the bottom of the hole.

A hundred years ago the people in Chiltern, Vic. Australia, had to ask that question, they decided to turned a disaster into Lake Anderson, which is now a favourite walk for visitors and locals alike.


Yes, gold was found in the hole, and for some the amount of gold they found made them very wealthy, and for those few life would have been good. And yes part of me does wish for this type of wealth.


So far my search for the perfect blog post has been more miss than hit, I should be asking if I am looking in the right place, or even if I am searching for the right something.  


I ask this because I get the feeling that while there nothing wrong with my search, I should not have the search for a perfect blog post in my Noble Bucket of Pursuits.  Do I need to toss the contents of my bucket?  Then run a new search, because so far my search has not found the perfect blog post. 

My feelings are that my search needs firmer ground, that where I'm digging might be on the verge of collapse, so where do I go to find solid ground?  

I have gone and done it again, forgotten the most noble pursuit of all.  This happens to often to count, but where is God's Word in all of this searching?  And perfect is not this world either, I have to wait for the perfect, the mansion, the room that is being prepared for me.  Till I check in to this mansion, my most Noble Pursuit should be God's Word, pursue this and everything else sorts itself out eventually.  Why do I have trouble remembering this.?




Luke 6:47-49

A Friend's Comfort

Deborah sat on a bench seat, her back leaning against the wall, her legs swinging.  She did not want to be in this room full of people.  Some like her father and brothers were standing with their friends, others, like the two mothers Deborah could see on the other side of the room, were sitting on bench a bench seat just like the one she sat on, both held sleeping babies in there arms.

Everyone was quiet.  If they spoke, it was little more than a whisper.  The standing people moved, changed their positions and their friends, so that they could greet another person or family entering the room. 

'He's not here yet, is he?' asked Ruth.

'No, I don't think he is,' said Deborah, wondering how she would know if the promised friend had arrived.

Deborah did not understand why her parents had insisted they come here.  She had heard her parents talking between themselves, her father said that the meeting might be very dangerous.  Especially if the temple elders decided, they should be in the temple, and not with the friends of a man who was condemned and executed for blasphemy. 

Deborah's mother had insisted they go to the meeting, we know that Jesus is alive she said.  We saw Thomas placing his hands on Jesus body and saw him feel the wounds left by the nails and spear.  You just can't do that to someone who isn't real.  When he left us to return to the Father, Jesus promised us a friend who would be always with us, and He asked us to wait together for His friend, her mother had said.  Her father had agreed that they needed to go to the meeting.

Deborah squeezed Ruth's hand.  She felt uneasy in her tummy.  The adults in the room were too quiet, normally you could hear someone laugh, but not today, she wished Jesus were with them.

She remembered what her mother had said, that Jesus was with His Father, she hoped that everyone was quiet because they missed Jesus and not because they were afraid the temple elders would find them.

Ruth gently returned the squeeze.  Deborah was about to let go of Ruth's hand when she heard it, she knew Ruth heard it too, her eyes were big brown circles, and they were sitting closer together.

The wind howled, drowning the quite conversation in the room like a bucket of water thrown onto a fire.  The window shutters rattled and broke open, the door of the room swung inward letting in a stream of sunlight. 

Deborah let go of Ruth's hands so that she could place her hands over her ears.  A bone rattling wind was doing battle with the walls and roof of the room.  Noise, not wind, something else, exploded in the room.  Deborah took her hands away from her ears; everyone was speaking and then shouting. 

Faces changed, in a blink of an eye, from sad and scared to happy.  A hand tugged Deborah's arm, 'Look at that,' said Ruth, she pointed into the room.  Deborah's eyes followed her friend's finger.  She had trouble working out what her friend was pointing to, Deborah stared, blinked, stared some more, the most unusual thing she had ever seen in her life.  The room was full of heads that had a hat of tiny fire. 

Deborah turned to look at Ruth.  'You have one too', she said.

'So do you', said Ruth.

'What does the fire mean?' asked Deborah as she passed her hand through a flame that didn't burn her hand.

'Jesus friend must have arrived, who else could make us feel so happy', said Ruth.

Deborah hugged Ruth, 'I know you're right, I feel wonderful, let's sing,' said Deborah.  'Hosanna, hosanna, thank you to the Father, he has sent his Son's friend, Hosanna, Hosanna.  Jesus loves us.  Jesus cares for us.  Hosanna, Hosanna,' Deborah sang the words until Ruth knew them, and then they both sang louder and then more people joined in the song that Deborah and Ruth were singing.

Happy Pentecost, remember we always have and always will be in the care of the Father's nurture.

A Leap Of Faith

 

I was planning to do something else for February's theme the reason I changed my mind is that I have been busy with Vic SES since Sunday, filling sandbags and dealing with anything too much rain -250mm- that is around 10 inches in five days can generate. Everyone is now hoping that we don't get any more rain even though more is forecast.

 I was standing behind the camera man when this rescue was filmed  a couple of days ago, about one kilometre from my place, the creek where the rescue took place is now, at the time of writing this post a metre higher than when the driver was pulled off  his truck.

When I saw him leap into the inflatable dingy I was struck by the thought that for a Christian that is exactly what God asks us to do, leap into his care, he promises to be there underneath us holding us when life is good and when life becomes a struggle.

Just to finish this post off I am including some of the News stories from the nights news.

 

Many residents will not be able to go to work tomorrow and to be honest might not want to go to work as driving through flood waters is dangerous, and not recommended. High School for my son was cancelled at 10am this morning because teachers feared that the buses would not be able to return the children to their homes if they left at 3.30pm too many roads have been flooded. 

I am pleased to say that my drenched town has settled for the night, Vic SES members are home taking a break, some started the day at 2.30am this morning with a request for sandbags.

Christian Writers Blog Chain

 

Orbit

 Karl walked, Word had summoned him, he did not blink, did not complain, this day was obligation and promise, he left his home that was a garden with rich soil, plants grew in care an nurture, all were watered by a stream of gurgling crystal water, the life essence of everything.

Outside Karl's garden the land was unpredictable, bandits roamed looking for opportunity to further their realms, in this realm Karl had to always be on guard, but the memories of home grew an armour strengthened by Word.

It was into this wild unpredictable land that Word led Karl, he walked with steady feet between walls of stone, carved through mountains and down into valleys, there was danger with every step that Karl took, he had enemies, powerful, lurking in shadows that formed the shape of scorpions, who lifted their tails ready to strike but they sensed the time was not right.

Shadows obscure and hide unseen forces who wait for any sign of doubt, they have interest in turning Word's protected to hearts that favour the wild raucous anything goes empires that fight for territory in the land. Karl's only hope of protection is placed in word.
 

Stone trickles down the side of rock walls as Karl walks past, scorpions lift their tails higher, an attack is planned, some release their barbs, but Karl's armour, fastened with truth, light, unseen by a blind enemy, is able to deflect the barbs that fall to the ground with the pebbles that slide down the chasms walls.

This is the day, come rest with me, bells call, Word call, Karl looks forward to the rest stop where he can join with Word's gathered, there strength, given by word and feast are given, the witness is given, soft gentle nurture strengthens and repairs any cracks in Karl's armour.

This is Word's call, to witness, to love, to be on the frontier, exciting more to be washed in life's water, the road is not always clear, sometimes enemies threaten to overwhelm, but for Karl there is no doubt that Word comes to him, walks with him, and that one day in every seven the light of Word shines, life's purpose to listen to hear, Word speak.

 

A Gift From The Heart.

Carey White sat outside in the early morning coolness, this was a nice time of day, she thought, no children yet, just the birds and me, and time to think about another curve the year had dumped. 

The curve happened as she was on the way to accept an invitation to a Christmas Eve Service at a Church that was a ten minute walk from the house they lived in, Emma was the first to notice her father Bruce, she was also the first to give him a hug. Kirsty and Andrew needed some encouragement and a nod from Carey to join their sister and give their father a hug too.


Emma was the talkative one, she told her dad where they were going and not wanting to upset Emma and she guessed Kirsty and Andrew, Carey shrugged and said that Bruce could join them. He should have warned her that he was going to show up Carey had thought.

Carey was surprised that children presented the story about the birth of Jesus, for the Christmas Eve Service.  Large fabric angels appearing in the roof of the Church at the right moment in the play, impressed Carey, and she was even more impressed when her children were given a bag of lollies as they left the Church. She had not sung carols for a long time either. The night had been good, even if Bruce has tagged along.


Christmas Day was better than she thought it would be, she had managed to save some money and buy reasonable presents for the kids and Bruce left presents too, before he left, he also said he was sorry he left his family six months ago and would like to try to come back into their lives. Before Christmas Eve Carey would not have considered the apology, but after the Christmas Eve Service, she wondered if it was possible to forgive him. Carey realised that she was not the only one who missed him.


The year had been one of change, starting with a bad storm that destroyed the business where Bruce worked, and a boss that felt he was too old to rebuild. Bruce could not find another job in the area, so they had made the decision to sell their house, they could not afford the mortgage with only Carey's part time job. Just after they moved into the rental, Bruce left, Carey knew he had been hurting, but leaving her and the kids, she hadn't understood.


Carey heard the back door open, she knew one of her children was up, Emma was walking towards her carrying a present. When Emma reached her mum she handed her the present and said, 
'Santa didn't remember you mum, so I have a present for you.'
Carey accepted her present, wondering what her daughter could possibly be giving her.
'Come on mum open it.'

Carey apologised for being slow and opened her daughter's present. Inside were two feathers, and they were ever so special, because they were a gift from the heart. Carey suddenly realised that this was the second gift from the heart she had received, the first was at the Christmas Eve Service when the Pastor said that the birth of Jesus was about forgiveness. Carey thought if God can forgive the world and Bruce, then perhaps she could work at forgiving Bruce, because forgiveness was a gift from the heart too.

Harvest

          In the Southern Hemisphere it is mid spring now, and it is time to plant pumpkin’s, squash, tomato’s, corn, lettuce, the list is endless, all depends on how large your veggie patch is, it is not the time to harvest anything

                                                      but wait

                                                        how could I

                                                          forget

                                                            that I do have

                                                              a harvest

                                                                and not just any ordinary

                                                                   but the SUPER veggie

                                                                           BROCCOLI

                                                                 You should eat your

                                                                           because

                                                                             it is

   full of antioxidant's that protect your body from coughs, sneezes, arthritis and cancer.

But wait

             

        there's more,

     it has

            FIBRE.

 

 You don't like your broccoli,

best advice,

              ever,

 hide your broccoli,

        how?

pull out the food processor,

       pop the broccoli into the machine and

           give it a whiz.

 Then add to the pizza sauce, the lasagne sauce, meat loaf, gravy,

              BE SNEAKY,

              CHOCOLATE CAKE, yeess, but not too much

                         Or

                   if you dare

                                  the coleslaw

 like the 10 commandments,

 broccoli is good for you.

God gave them both to us,

 we should be thankful.

                     But

                   Wait 

There’s more

             leave the broccoli in the garden,

                        if given plenty of water and good fertilizer,

                                          will turn from green to small yellow flowers,

 the broccoli blooming,

 is pretty,

 why don't we pick them and put them into a vase?

 Note to self; if I feed myself time with God, I should bloom too.

BUT WAIT.

    There is more,

 and maybe this is why I don't pick broccoli flowers,

         the flowers will fade,

                            and die,

                 and the plant will look ordinary

 not SUPER,

but at work within the plant is a miracle,

watch and after a while,

you will notice that where the yellow flowers were is becoming thicker,

 work is being done,

  seed is growing,

   getting ready to harvest
         for

     the new crop of

            awesomely

                                            SUPER 

                                BROCCOLI.

                                                                Don't ever think

                                                                        That

                                               GOD

                                                          is not at work

                                                               Love your broccoli

                                                                    because like

                                                                                    

                                                             GOD

                                                                  it is good for you.