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.