a beacon of hope

It does not happen often but once in awhile when the sun comes up over Mt. Baker...the shadow of the mountain separates the sunrise and we have a beacon of sorts displayed across the morning sky.

This is Christmas...that piercing of history, that separation of time, that beacon of hope in every sunrise.

I wish Christmas was more simple and less complicated. I know that much of it has to do with how we approach this season, but one can't help but hear the GREAT sucking noise of the retail giant as it pulls us in as much as possible into excess. Thanksgivings leanings into gluttony is outpaced by Christmas' headlong tumble into greed and avarice. We are bent to excess this nature of ours. The mockery of what was to what we have done can't be more obvious in the displays of the simple nativity scene...for pete's sake...mine is white porcelain and I am sure would have been quite expensive if I had not rescued it from the garbage.

Every year I wrestle with this monster...I like that we as a culture celebrate, I hate that we can't do it restrained. I hate the frenetic pace, the running around looking for peace and joy...when those two are never found but always follow. I love the lights in this dark season and the relentless music pulsating in every store and radio station...but I think we have become louder and harried and restless and worried. I don't mind even that we have stolen from pagan celebrations and redeemed it somehow...I do mind when we think Christmas in its present form is somehow a holy holiday.

In its simplicity it is about hope. Hope that this baby being born, like every baby born in its uncomplicated smallness will grow up into something wonderful. This baby born 2000 years ago in his uncomplicated and simple smallness grew up and continues to pierce every morning with hope. This beacon ... this hope...I will follow in this season of excess, finding it piercing even the darkness of this holiday.

In passing

One of my host mothers is driving home from school with her Chinese 'daughter'. They are looking out the window at a woman walking her dog. Student says,"That's what I want, to walk humbly with my dog."

Teachers as human beings

In class yesterday I told my students what it felt like when they were deliberately dis-respectful. In this particular case a student took out his cell phone and started texting. The whole texting in class has been a cat and mouse game for teachers and students. Who can text without the teacher catching you. It is a game and I know it is being played every day in every class with every teacher. As teachers we get so upset but don't seem to think twice when we do it in church, in a conversation with a friend, in the car, at the check out...This new technology that has invaded every space, keeping up with inane conversations that mean so little but take so much.
My students were quiet but I am sure as with all lectures it flows over and out. I will be taking their phones at the start of class. I wish that the title of teacher carried more respect but maybe the matter of our humanness will affect more change. I appealed to our common humanity at the end...our common desire for respect, a listening ear, a caring concern. I don't think it will change anything but if I have their phones in hand...one less distraction will help.

Dear Old Dad

It is his birthday today...a grand 81 years of age. He is such a gift. A gentle man who has loved well, served consistently, honored my mom and Elfrieda with integrity, carried his grief with humility, loved us kids and our spouses unconditionally, followed Jesus wholeheartedly and has lived with true elegance. This man is my Dad...how I love him.
Happy Birthday dear old Dad .

The problem with Envy

We have a dog who is content, that would be Chino. We give him a bone to chew...he sits down and chews it. We have a dog that is never OK with the bone we give her, wants the bone we give to Chino and protects but won't chew hers, this would be Mocha. Whatever Chino has, Mocha wants. She shivers, shakes, growls until we take both the bones and put them away. Right away Mocha relaxes...I think she tells herself...At least no one gets the bone, any bone.

The problem with envy isn't only that we are not content or grateful for what we have, we don't want anybody else to have it either. Mocha would rather not have her wonderful bone if there is any chance that Chino might have a bone as well.

Envy is one of the Big Ten of Do Not's. I see the result of it every day played out in my living room. Chino lives in the joy of the moment, gives and takes freely, chews and enjoys whole heartedly. Mocha..can't enjoy what she has and stresses every moment what Chino has.

I think this is envy...I know it destroys. Every day I have to take away from Chino because Mocha can't deal. Both of them loose out ...that's the problem with envy.

When it rains...

A young MAF mechanic in Sumatra, out for a day at the beach drowns while trying to save another. One wife, one young son left behind.

A good friend asked not to participate in something she is very very good at...strong arm tactics.

A volleyball player from a nearby school on the way to a game is struck from behind into oncoming traffic and looses all of her 16 years.

My Dad who struggles to get well from something that is nebulous and uncertain.

This weight of sadness...who can carry.

On another note

I sit and wonder why this information is so relevant to me....I think it is because we never really heard if from our mom (heard some of it) but that if it wasn't important to her...why should it be important to us. OR...I just miss my mom after all these years. As I ponder my daughter I realize no one ponders me...It is OK to miss your Mom no matter how much time passes.

My mom's mom

I don't think any of my family reads my blogs anymore and since I don't seem to talk to any of them very much either this seems to be the only place I can talk about my Mom. I don't hang around anybody that knew her or remembers her but just yesterday we got some information about her and her mom that was so cool and interesting. I have no desire to talk to my brothers about it all...but talking to you...somehow it is safe. Please indulge this family history I just learned.

Camille Montet was my grandmother. She was a 'love child' of a Brazilian diplomat and her socialite mother. Since her mother had married well, this was not a good thing so Camile was raised by foster parents in Normandy. When she turned 9 her mother came and got her and then lived with her from age 9-21. Her mothers name was Madame Leuiset. When she was 21 she looked for her foster family back in Normandy. She went to midwifery school at a Catholic school in a large castle and having earned her credentials went on to deliver 20, 000 french babies and lost only 2.

Camille married Albert and good looking philanderer who was a painter, an artist and a performer. Albert came from a Russian/French background but then everyone in France comes from mixed blood. ( this is told from her daughter My only living Aunt). During WWII when the imminent invasion was to occur Camille and her 5 children moved to Marsaille , then Geneva and then settled in Grenoble and became an Administrator in an orphanage for young women who had children without husbands. Because she received food stamps she was able to help many during the war and took part in the underground railroad helping Jews to make it the Holy Land. My mom and her brother were in Switzerland at this time as many children were put out of harms way. They lived so high up in the mountains that there were no trees and Mijo (my mom) was a shepherdess. My Grandmother had Yves, Michelle, Mijo & Camille, and Marie-Therese. My grandmother outlived 4 of her children. Camille, Mijo's twin, died of an ear infection. Yves, died when he fell off a roof when he was in his early 20's. Michelle died of bone cancer when she was in her 40's and Mom died when she was 52. My Grandmother died a few years ago which leaves my Aunt who lives presently in Erie, PA.

As my mother grew up, she was sad and morose. When Camille came to the Lord she had joy and this was true of my Mom who came to Christ when she was 15. She went on to a technical college to become a chef...but somewhere along the way she found herself at Bible college in Paris, met my Dad and the rest is history. She ended up so far away from her precious mother in a land so utterly foreign raising 4 of her own children.

What a legacy I carry from all these amazing, colorful, heroic , accomplished women...I can't help but feel that I have done so little in comparison.

Good wine and God's glory

John 2 The changing of the water to wine.



" But you have saved the best till now !"

This, the first of his miraculous signs...He thus revealed His glory and his disciples put their faith in him.

This makes me smile, God's glory revealed in good wine.

God's glory revealed in taking away a lack of preparation by the host.

God's glory revealed in making his mother happy.

God's glory revealed in a marriage ceremony.

God's glory revealed in a recognition of cultural expectations.

God's glory revealed in elevating and making right an embarrassing moment.

Result: Disciples put their faith in him...

God's glory is not that complicated...maybe when we

help elevate an embarrassing moment

do something for our parents

understand a relevant cultural happening and abide and give respect

come alongside a harried co-worker and lessen their load

drink some good wine in good company at a good celebration

we in turn glorify God and our faith is visible.