I've been getting more interested in the national health care debate now that it seems something is finally going to happen. Although I'm excited at the prospect of more working class Americans receiving health insurance benefits, and I'm thrilled that some limits will be put on insurance companies, I'm not happy with the way it's all come about--especially the 1 TRILLION dollar price-tag. The bargaining and bribing and additional spending for personal pet projects once again demonstrates the selfish nature of American politics with politicians out to get what's best for them, not the people they were hired to represent. Just once, I would like to see politicians forget about their own pride, agendas, and ambition and do something that would truly impact and better the lives of the poor ,the marginalized, the oppressed, the struggling. And lo and behold, in this season of miracles, I witnessed just such an event.
A few months ago, it was brought to the attention of our local state senator, Jack Goodman, that there were a number of families within his district that would not have enough resources to put a Christmas meal on the table. So, he decided to act. Working with local business, Senator Goodman created the Season of Hope campaign to provide a Christmas meal for families in need. Each family in need received a bag filled with enough food to feed 4-8 people. Included were canned vegetables, stuffing mix, gravy mix, fresh squash, fruit, a bag of potatoes, and a gift certificate for a meat purchase. Oh, and dessert. Our church participated in the project by becoming an assembly center. Last Tuesday evening, over forty volunteers gathered and put together over 400 bags of food in about 45 minutes. The food was delivered later in the week to each family who had signed up, and extra bags were created and distributed for anyone else who had need.
Senator Goodman did what every American politician should be doing. He listened to the needs of his constituents, he worked within the community he represents, and he truly made a difference in the lives of people in need. Not only that, this conservative politician just won the vote of a liberal "commie", as my husband would call me. :-) All in all, not a bad day's work.
Blessings and Peace,
Sara
Tuesday, December 22, 2009
Friday, December 18, 2009
Confession 72: Joyful, or Just Full?
Christmas has always been my favorite holiday. I have so many warm memories around the holiday that I have always been joyful for the season to arrive. Yet this year, I must confess that has not been the case. I don't know if my husband is wearing off on me (he truly hates Christmas) or if our culture has just so completely bastardized the holiday that any semblance of what it should be is gone. Full disclosure here would necessitate me saying that I've been a little depressed lately in some other areas and the semester is drawing to a close which means a grading frenzy has ensued. Also, the weather has been cold and dreary. Yet, even with that, there's something bigger going on in our culture when it comes to the de-Christ-mas season.
I've been doing a lot of soul searching lately, trying to find what it is about Christmas that I've always loved so much. The thing that comes back over and over again is the warmth. My parents were both educators, and as such had time off during the holidays. We spent that time together as a family, truly enjoying the experience of being together. Our grandparents were usually always with us for the holidays. We played cards, made cookies, watched Christmas movies. But the highlight for Christmas for me was our Christmas Eve tradition. Each year on Christmas Eve, our church has a silent candlelight service of the Lord's Supper. We would go together as a family and sit in the softly lit church. The only sounds were the pianist and organist playing Christmas hymns and the creak of the wooden floors as families came in. The church would be packed, whole families together, grown sons and daughters returning home. Looking around, you could see the contentment on each face. Sitting and looking at the altar, listening to the hymns proclaiming Christ's birth, staring at the golden trays containing the crackers and juice that symbolized the body and blood of Jesus, you couldn't help but contemplate the meaning of the celebration. As the deacons passed around the trays, the pastor, still silent, would lead the congregation in taking the crackers and juice, and you could hear the entire congregation act in one accord. Even my sister and I, before we were old enough to partake of the elements, would bring hard candy to eat at the appointed time so that we too could participate in this sacred act.
After worship, we stepped back out into the cold where we warmly greeted our fellow congregants. You could hear laughter tinkling through the night and calls of Merry Christmas echo down the street. Our family would pile back into the car, and we would head out to see the Christmas lights. We put Christmas music on and headed out of town to a little country drive-through light display. After getting mini candy canes from friendly faces in Santa hats, we drove back to town and through the neighborhoods of the community looking at the lights on display at people's houses. Once home, we would have a dinner of deli meat and cheese sandwiches, decorate cookies, watch a Christmas movie, and head for bed.
Every year, in the early morning hours, my sister would tiptoe into my room and snuggle into bed with me. As we waited for the sun to rise and my parents to wake, we'd spend the time talking and laughing. As girls we talked with breathless anticipation about what might be waiting for us under the Christmas tree. As young women we talked about our hopes and dreams. And as adults, we talk about our own families and experiences. It's our own sacred time that draws us back together as sisters.
Once Mom and Dad were finally up and ready to go, breakfast was in the oven, we went to the tree. But before anything else happened, my dad would read for us the Christmas story out of Luke. We'd listen to the familiar words anew, talk about how the significance of them had changed for us over the year, and remember that greatest gift of all. Only then did we descend upon our own gifts, handing out one at a time and giving everyone a turn to oooh and ahhh over each gift.
Our day would end with family friends, either going to a movie or eating leftover turkey and playing Trivial Pursuit. It was never anything fancy. But, in looking back, Christmas for me always began with the birth of Christ. It was an intentional focus on something beyond ourselves; beyond shopping, and baking, and decorating, and partying. It was simple, it was pure, it was holy. And that's what I'm missing this Christmas season. The simplicity of the message--God came to Earth, the purity of the message--God came to Earth as a newborn baby, the holiness of the message--God came to Earth to sacrifice himself so that we, his beloved creation, could live freely. I don't want to watch an endless parade of commercials blaring on about savings and gifts, and they'll love you forever if you buy this. I don't want my kids to go sit on the lap of some stranger in a red suit who listens to kids spill their hearts out about gifts he can't actually deliver on. I don't want to listen to "Jingle Bell Rock" and I don't want to rock around a Christmas tree. I want to sit again in the silence, to kneel at the manger, to peer into the face of a newborn and know that deep within those eyes lie the answers to all of the mysteries of the universe. I want to be filled with that love that has no bounds and to give that love to others. I don't want to end this season being full, but being filled. I want to truly say to everyone I meet, "Merry Christ-mas!"
Blessings and Peace,
Sara
I've been doing a lot of soul searching lately, trying to find what it is about Christmas that I've always loved so much. The thing that comes back over and over again is the warmth. My parents were both educators, and as such had time off during the holidays. We spent that time together as a family, truly enjoying the experience of being together. Our grandparents were usually always with us for the holidays. We played cards, made cookies, watched Christmas movies. But the highlight for Christmas for me was our Christmas Eve tradition. Each year on Christmas Eve, our church has a silent candlelight service of the Lord's Supper. We would go together as a family and sit in the softly lit church. The only sounds were the pianist and organist playing Christmas hymns and the creak of the wooden floors as families came in. The church would be packed, whole families together, grown sons and daughters returning home. Looking around, you could see the contentment on each face. Sitting and looking at the altar, listening to the hymns proclaiming Christ's birth, staring at the golden trays containing the crackers and juice that symbolized the body and blood of Jesus, you couldn't help but contemplate the meaning of the celebration. As the deacons passed around the trays, the pastor, still silent, would lead the congregation in taking the crackers and juice, and you could hear the entire congregation act in one accord. Even my sister and I, before we were old enough to partake of the elements, would bring hard candy to eat at the appointed time so that we too could participate in this sacred act.
After worship, we stepped back out into the cold where we warmly greeted our fellow congregants. You could hear laughter tinkling through the night and calls of Merry Christmas echo down the street. Our family would pile back into the car, and we would head out to see the Christmas lights. We put Christmas music on and headed out of town to a little country drive-through light display. After getting mini candy canes from friendly faces in Santa hats, we drove back to town and through the neighborhoods of the community looking at the lights on display at people's houses. Once home, we would have a dinner of deli meat and cheese sandwiches, decorate cookies, watch a Christmas movie, and head for bed.
Every year, in the early morning hours, my sister would tiptoe into my room and snuggle into bed with me. As we waited for the sun to rise and my parents to wake, we'd spend the time talking and laughing. As girls we talked with breathless anticipation about what might be waiting for us under the Christmas tree. As young women we talked about our hopes and dreams. And as adults, we talk about our own families and experiences. It's our own sacred time that draws us back together as sisters.
Once Mom and Dad were finally up and ready to go, breakfast was in the oven, we went to the tree. But before anything else happened, my dad would read for us the Christmas story out of Luke. We'd listen to the familiar words anew, talk about how the significance of them had changed for us over the year, and remember that greatest gift of all. Only then did we descend upon our own gifts, handing out one at a time and giving everyone a turn to oooh and ahhh over each gift.
Our day would end with family friends, either going to a movie or eating leftover turkey and playing Trivial Pursuit. It was never anything fancy. But, in looking back, Christmas for me always began with the birth of Christ. It was an intentional focus on something beyond ourselves; beyond shopping, and baking, and decorating, and partying. It was simple, it was pure, it was holy. And that's what I'm missing this Christmas season. The simplicity of the message--God came to Earth, the purity of the message--God came to Earth as a newborn baby, the holiness of the message--God came to Earth to sacrifice himself so that we, his beloved creation, could live freely. I don't want to watch an endless parade of commercials blaring on about savings and gifts, and they'll love you forever if you buy this. I don't want my kids to go sit on the lap of some stranger in a red suit who listens to kids spill their hearts out about gifts he can't actually deliver on. I don't want to listen to "Jingle Bell Rock" and I don't want to rock around a Christmas tree. I want to sit again in the silence, to kneel at the manger, to peer into the face of a newborn and know that deep within those eyes lie the answers to all of the mysteries of the universe. I want to be filled with that love that has no bounds and to give that love to others. I don't want to end this season being full, but being filled. I want to truly say to everyone I meet, "Merry Christ-mas!"
Blessings and Peace,
Sara
Tuesday, December 1, 2009
Confession 71: Crazy Dreams of Christmas Joy
I've been having a lot of crazy dreams lately. I'm not sure if it's the change in weather or what, but it's almost like I've been living some sort of surreal double-life. It takes me a few seconds in the morning to snap out of whatever dimension I've been in. I used to keep a dream journal and analyze all of my nightly mind-wanderings, but then I had kids and time became of the essence. Yet this dream from the other night has stayed with me, for I found a profound message within it.
In my dream, I rehearsing music for a praise band. There were three of us singing. Although I knew both of the other women, I can't remember who they were. There was a storm raging outside, and at one point one of the other women stopped practicing and went to look at the storm out the window. She quieted us and told us to listen. I began feeling anxious and asked her if she heard the tornado sirens going off.
"No," she responded. "This is what I heard the last time I saw an angel appear."
At that moment, the sheet music she had been using began to shimmer, and a beautiful white light came through as if a spotlight was shining from below. In that instant, we three fell to our knees, overcome with the sensation that we were in the presence of something holy. We each began to pray aloud, our voices joining together and culminating in the praise song we had previously been rhearsing. My heart was full to bursting with a joy that could only be shown through praise and thanksgiving.
As the song finished, the light faded, and rejoicing, we stepped outside. Traffic was stopped, people everywhere were smiling and greeting one another as friends. It seemed that everyone around us had experienced the same miraculous event. We were so excited to share our experiences that we ran off in different directions to spread the joy to all those we saw.
In thinking about this dream, I began to recall the Advent study we are doing at church; The Advent Conspiracy. The point of this study is that we, as Christians, must move past the commercialism and consumerism that has become Christmas, to experience afresh the wonder and joy of celebrating Christ's birth. The first tenet of the conspiracy is to worship fully. The authors look at Luke 2: 8-20 where the shepherds are greeted by the angels announcing the Savior's birth. The shepherds were a group of people who were marginalized from the rest of society. Yet after the appearance of the heavenly host, they went to the Mary and Joseph to worship Jesus. And after being in the presence of the Christ child, they joyfully ran to spread the news that the Messiah had come to the towns and villages around. They broke through the chains of class and station to spread a message of love and hope. They were joy-full.
In my dream, I was like the shepherds. I was so full of joy at the love of God that I wanted to go out and share it with everyone I met. I was sad when I woke up in the morning and realized it had all been a dream. But in reality, it wasn't. The joy of Christ's birth is there, everyday. There's a story of hope for today, for people who need to know love, to know joy, to know redemption. I want to be as excited about God when I'm awake as I am when I'm asleep. I want to stand up and tell people I meet, "Hey, God is here, now, and he wants to make a difference. He wants to change your life. He wants to set you free."
Christmas is about spreading joy. What a crazy dream!
Blessings and Peace,
Sara
In my dream, I rehearsing music for a praise band. There were three of us singing. Although I knew both of the other women, I can't remember who they were. There was a storm raging outside, and at one point one of the other women stopped practicing and went to look at the storm out the window. She quieted us and told us to listen. I began feeling anxious and asked her if she heard the tornado sirens going off.
"No," she responded. "This is what I heard the last time I saw an angel appear."
At that moment, the sheet music she had been using began to shimmer, and a beautiful white light came through as if a spotlight was shining from below. In that instant, we three fell to our knees, overcome with the sensation that we were in the presence of something holy. We each began to pray aloud, our voices joining together and culminating in the praise song we had previously been rhearsing. My heart was full to bursting with a joy that could only be shown through praise and thanksgiving.
As the song finished, the light faded, and rejoicing, we stepped outside. Traffic was stopped, people everywhere were smiling and greeting one another as friends. It seemed that everyone around us had experienced the same miraculous event. We were so excited to share our experiences that we ran off in different directions to spread the joy to all those we saw.
In thinking about this dream, I began to recall the Advent study we are doing at church; The Advent Conspiracy. The point of this study is that we, as Christians, must move past the commercialism and consumerism that has become Christmas, to experience afresh the wonder and joy of celebrating Christ's birth. The first tenet of the conspiracy is to worship fully. The authors look at Luke 2: 8-20 where the shepherds are greeted by the angels announcing the Savior's birth. The shepherds were a group of people who were marginalized from the rest of society. Yet after the appearance of the heavenly host, they went to the Mary and Joseph to worship Jesus. And after being in the presence of the Christ child, they joyfully ran to spread the news that the Messiah had come to the towns and villages around. They broke through the chains of class and station to spread a message of love and hope. They were joy-full.
In my dream, I was like the shepherds. I was so full of joy at the love of God that I wanted to go out and share it with everyone I met. I was sad when I woke up in the morning and realized it had all been a dream. But in reality, it wasn't. The joy of Christ's birth is there, everyday. There's a story of hope for today, for people who need to know love, to know joy, to know redemption. I want to be as excited about God when I'm awake as I am when I'm asleep. I want to stand up and tell people I meet, "Hey, God is here, now, and he wants to make a difference. He wants to change your life. He wants to set you free."
Christmas is about spreading joy. What a crazy dream!
Blessings and Peace,
Sara
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