What Does Christmas Smell Like?

“It smells like Christmas in here!” my daughter yelped as she walked into my bedroom. I had just started up a rustling blaze in the fireplace, heaving the splintery wood over the rustic hearth…okay, so all I really did was flip a switch and my gas logs turned on! But something about that smoky aroma transported my baby girl to a place swarming with happy memories. She plopped right down on the floor beside me and immersed herself in the moment, eyes closed, lips smiling.

I wondered where her mind was carrying her. I closed my eyes, too, and let the smell gently waft its way through the picture album flipping in my mind’s eye. Just what does Christmas smell like? It smelled like Russian tea when I lived under my parents’ roof. I can’t say that I really enjoyed the taste of that classic beverage, but when that unmistakable mixture of spices reached my nostrils, magic was in the air! Christmas also smelled like a fresh Frasier fir tree when I was younger. Mind you, we had to get that variety of tree since we bore the name, “Frazier” ourselves! Pay no attention to the spelling discrepancy. Close enough. And oh, the smell! For weeks after the tree was mulching someone’s garden, our house would hint of Christmas every time we used the vacuum, thanks to the left over tree needles inside!

As the gas logs continued to burn, I kept my eyes squinted shut and tried to imagine what Christmas looks like. Remember the uncontainable excitement you felt when you saw the “downtown” decorations for the first time of the yuletide season? You knew then that the fat man in the red suit was on his way! Unlike today, when holiday bobbles start showing up along with the Halloween candy, back then we had to wait until all the turkey and stuffing had settled before donning our garland, lights, and tinsel. Speaking of holiday city decorations, I was in a tiny SC community last summer and howled with laughter at the sight of Christmas decorations on the light posts! I guess it was just too much trouble to put up and take down, put up and take down. I mean, really. We’ve just got to do this thing all over again in 12 months, right? As we say in the south, “bless their hearts.”

Conjuring up the smells and sights of the season, I meandered my way to its sounds. As a musician, all 41 of my Christmas times have started in the early fall with crisp new music books and many a dog-eared favorite. I have participated in cantatas, dramas, concerts, recitals, caroling, and all things musical. I’ve witnessed shepherds in bathrobes who lost a tooth during the play and went crying to Mom in the audience, held my breath as angels flew suspended on a wire from the ceiling, and watched as my very own newborn son played the perfect baby Jesus. With all that music overkill, one might guess that Christmas music would lose its luster. Check back with me in another 41 years and I’ll let you know.

Ah, the smells, sights, and sounds of the season! Our memories of this amazing time of year vary vastly, I’m sure, but ultimately, there are some smells, sights, and sounds that are the same. I guess you could say that the true essence of the holiday has that “new baby smell”. New – newness that reeks of fresh beginnings, do-overs, and a better story. The sights? Yes, the true meaning of Christmas looks like the Father of the universe saying goodbye to the only Son He ever had so that we, the world, could say hello to a Savior. Oh, and the sounds! God’s Christmas story sounds like a love song – my, how He loves you and me! “For God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son that whosoever believeth in Him might not perish, but have everlasting life.” John 3:16 is the ultimate Christmas card from a lavish Father to those whom He wants to be His children.

May you take His gifts with you into a brand new year, full of hope – that new baby smell, the picture of a giving Father, and the sound of His love song to you. Merry Christmas!

(as published in SHE! December 2010)

Meditating on the M&M’s

I never met an M&M I didn’t like. Well, except for the other day…

My minivan was parched for clean oil and the indicator light glared at me condescendingly. So there I sat, waiting in the lube joint while my vehicle enjoyed a spa day. The shiny little vending machines caught my eye, calling out to me with their various vibrant primary colors. Peanut M&Ms. Yes! Only twenty-five cents invested, and my fist was bulging with peanutty chocolatey goodness!

I slowly chomped each morsel, sometimes sucking on them until the candy coating melted. Other times, I chomped right down into the layers at once. Sadness ensued as I look down to discover only crumbs of bright-colored candy coating left in my palm. Sadness quickly morphed into horror as I noticed a creepy, crawly MEALWORM among the leftovers. Eeeeeeek! I quickly fought off the urge to re-visit my formerly consumed candy, then tried to still the scrambling thoughts inside my head. Was there more than one worm? Did I eat any worms? Will I die? I thought these things tasted stale! Should I tell the lady at the desk? This is going on my facebook status! Once I regained feeling in my legs, I sheepishly told the receptionist and she promptly placed an “out of order” sign on the machine.

This kind of thing happens to me frequently. No joke. My kids even know it! As I was feverishly recounting this tale to my husband, I wondered aloud, “Who does this happen to? Really, WHO DOES THIS?” Without even looking up from the book she was reading, my nine 9-year-old quipped, “Apparently, you, Mom. Apparently you.”

She’s right. Crazy, awful stuff seems to happen to me! Nobody loves me, everybody hates me, I’m gonna eat some worms. But I have found that there is an upside to almost everything. Well, what in the world could be good about starting my day eating worms? Here were some of my thoughts:

• The day can only get better from here.

• Woo hoo! Extra protein!

• Maybe this will deter my chocolate habit . . . okay, for one day, anyway. Okay, for 10 minutes.

• I can’t wait to tell my SHE! friends about this.

• People all over the world eat worms. Some don’t have a choice. So glad that I do.

Do you ever feel like you started your day out with mealworms hidden among your candy? Boy, don’t I know it! It doesn’t take much to ruin a perfectly good day. A flat tire, a nasty e mail, a late notice on your power bill, a call from your child’s school teacher, a glare from across the cubicle at work. Mealworms.

“Finally, brethren, whatever things are true, whatever things are noble, whatever things are just, whatever things are pure, whatever things are lovely, whatever things are of good report, if there is any virtue and if there is anything praiseworthy—meditate on these things.” Philippians 4:8 puts it into perspective. Meditate on the M&M’s, not the mealworms! Don’t get so hung up on the mealworm that you miss the chocolatey goodness of the candy. You know, the candy! The giggling of your children in the next room, the blessing of a car that gets you to and from in one piece, a job that pays the bills, your health, the change of seasons, life lived in a free country, a dog or cat that loves you even when you’re a jerk. These are the candy in the palm of life, and while you will certainly encounter a mealworm here and there, you can choose to focus on the good stuff - the candy. Throw those mealworms to the ground, stomp them hard, then move on. Life is too sweet to let a tiny little worm ruin my love for the good stuff!

(as published in SHE! November 2010)

Putting a Smile on God’s Face

“When you do the most what you do the best, you put a smile on God's face.” Author, Max Lucado put words to my thoughts precisely. The idea of putting a smile on God’s face is a precious one to me. The idea of putting a smile on God’s face by doing something that I enjoy and do with proficiency only sweetens the deal! I mean, seriously, when I try to conjure up ideas about what kind of offering brings God pleasure, I guess that I have been guilty of “over-thinking” this whole thing at times. Surely God wants me to travel to some remote region of the world, eat bugs, and go the rest of my life without deodorant to bring Him glory, right? It needs to be a task so difficult and repulsing – surely that will do the most good! But wait, if I go and do that, who is going to touch these people right here in my current realm of influence?

Some people would hate my day job. On any given weekday afternoon, you are likely to find me perched patiently to the right-hand side of the piano bench. I’m smiling. Sometimes forcedly, but not usually. Even the wrong notes are music to my ears. These music learners are walking a treacherous path of notes and pitches that can be overwhelming at the very least. I am proud of their efforts and so very honored to help them reach their potential in learning to play the piano or sing with their voices. The students and I rejoice over the victories – that long, intricate piano passage that has plagued them for weeks, finally conquered with expertise! Or there’s that Italian aria whose pronunciations are quite a feat for a seventh grade girl with braces. The milestone accomplishments along the way are like oxygen masks falling from the overhead bin just in the nick of time. Plodding through music lessons can be turbulent.

But am I bringing God glory? Am I making Him smile with my day job? I choose to think so! There was a time when I did this particular job with less than stellar enthusiasm. It seemed like a chore to sit through all of the wrong notes – to yet again, be faced with a pupil who hadn’t cracked open their book since last lesson…ugh. Work. Laborious, tedious, monotonous work. But somewhere along the way, my thinking shifted. (side note to private music instructors: check out the book, Note by Note, by Tricia Tunstall) Instead of looking at this music teaching gig as a burden, I truly began asking God to help me love each student individually and to help them find their own God-song. Talk about a difference! Talk about a revolutionary change…in me! Gradually, I was smiling more – and I know that God was smiling!

These days, I still have to allow God to remind me of this truth from time to time. This is especially true when I am weary. T-a-r-d, tired. But ultimately, as I listen to yet another labored version of “Ode to Joy”, “Caro Mio Ben”, or even “The Entertainer” (okay, especially that last one!), I see beyond the surface duty and smile as I thank God for allowing me to be a small part of each student’s journey with Him…or toward Him!

How about your day job? Love it or hate it, I am guessing that God would love to help you find a unique perspective on what it is you do that makes Him smile. He will show you. Maybe He smiles when you assist patients with their annual, dreaded mammogram, or when you keep the restrooms tidy at your place of business because no one else wants to do it. Maybe you put your hands in other people’s mouths for a living or keep their locks of hair from being so unruly. Perhaps you live in a remote region of the world, eat bugs and don’t wear deodorant. Whatever God has gifted each of us to do, let’s live out I Corinthians 10:31 together! “So whether you eat or drink, or whatever you do, do it all for the glory of God.” That, my friends, puts a smile on God’s face.

(as published in SHE! October 2010)

Reconnecting

Some of my dearest friends in this world live 795 miles away. Louisiana is a long way from the Palmetto State! Until this summer, I had not seen those friends for 3 long years! Too long. As I threw my arms around each of them and squeezed tightly, so many of them whispered the same thing in my ear. “I knew I missed you, but I didn’t know how MUCH until I saw you!” How beautiful to finally reconnect with them. Facebook and e mails are wonderful things, but nothing is an adequate substitute for face time.

Our meaningful days were spent laughing over shared memories and catching up on all the nitty gritty. I remembered why I fell in love with them in the first place. Their quick wit, “knowing glances”, and even body mannerisms took me back to a time when we were part of each other’s daily worlds. I miss it.

That set my mind to wondering how all that might apply to my God-walk. There are plenty of times when God and I have a day to day, hour to hour, minute to minute connection. But other times are more of the Facebook and e mail variety. I Thessalonians 5:17 has always intrigued me. “Pray without ceasing…” or as the New Living Translation verbosely states it, “Never stop praying.” Just exactly what does that look like in real life? With all the demands and stress in my life, I sometimes have the attention span of a house fly and I’m supposed to remember to pray at all times? Usually when crisis situations have my life spinning out of control, I am keenly aware of my need for God. So we talk. A lot. God is on speed dial. When long-awaited answers to prayer arrive, we quickly give thanks. But I can’t always put my finger on what causes me to stay close to God. Who knows why sometimes I am more in tune with Him than others? It is, after all, relationship. And thanks to good ‘ole “Mr. Human Nature” there are ups and downs.

Are you like me when it comes to reconnecting with God? When I kick my spiritual shoes off and jump back into the Word of God, I find myself splashing around in His truth like a kid in front of a broken fire hydrant on a muggy, hot day (not that we ever have that kind of weather around here, mind you). His Word just spouts off of the page at me and I glance around to see if anyone else is looking – because it is SO personal! How could God know I was thinking that? Has that verse always been there, or did He just stick it in when I wasn’t looking?

The writer of Psalm 42 was reminiscing about grander times when he said, “My heart is breaking as I remember how it used to be: I walked among the crowds of worshipers, leading a great procession to the house of God, singing for joy and giving thanks amid the sound of a great celebration!” He missed the days when he and all of his friends spent time learning about and praising God in His temple!

Ah, the good ‘ole days! Well, forget the good ‘ole days – they can be in our past, present and future! We have access to our great big God all day every day. And when we do reconnect with Him, inevitably He hurls His strong arms around our neck and we blurt out, “I knew I missed You, God. I just didn’t know how much!”

(as published in SHE! September 2010)

Never Bark at a Dog

Kids crack me up. One can never predict what might tumble from their imaginative brains down to their unfiltered little lips! Thus was the case with seven year old Hannah the other day. Skipping along the sidewalk to the library, she spouted this random, unsolicited advice, “Never bark at a dog.” While waiting for her to finish pontificating, my grownup mind searched a list of possible reasons never to bark at the canine species. It might bite you was the response I was expecting, but her words interrupted my wondering. “NEVER bark at a dog because you don’t know what you might be saying!” This is true. I am not fluent in dog language. My little friend further cautioned me that I might even be saying bad words to the dog and not even know it! Oh, the humanity.

Words are powerful. God surely knows this and warned us to be careful with our words – long before the thought ever occurred to Hannah! Proverbs 18:21a tells us, “The tongue has the power of life and death…” Ruff ruff! It sounds like maybe I need to pay better attention to my own barking. My words hold the power of death? Yes – death to dreams, confidence, courage, hope, affection, trust, respect – just to name a few. I may never know the damage I’ve done by my careless words! Maybe I was being sarcastic or just making a joke, but at what expense? My beloved mentor, Florence Littauer, wrote a best-selling book years ago entitled, “Silver Boxes.” In this wonderful book, she shares her own experiences with the power of words. Here is her poem by the same name:

“Silver Boxes”

My words were harsh & hasty
And they came without a thought.
Then I saw the pain & anguish
That my bitter words had brought. Bitter words that I had spoken
Made me think back through the past;
Of how many times I'd uttered
Biting words whose pain would last. Then I wondered of the people
I had hurt by things I'd said;
All the ones I had discouraged
When I didn't use my head. Then I thought about my own life
Of painful words I've heard;
And of the times I'd been discouraged
By a sharp and cruel word. And now clearly I remember
All the things I might have done;
But, by a word I was discouraged
And they never were begun. So, help my words be silver boxes,
Neatly wrapped up with a bow;
That I give to all so freely,
As through each day I gladly go. Silver boxes full of treasure,
Precious gifts from above;
That all the people I encounter
Might have a box of love

Ah, my words can also be power-packed with life! I see this most of all in my relationship with my children. When I praise them or affirm the God-gifts in their lives, my words are like cool water to the parched soil of their hearts. The wilting stems of self-doubt begin to straighten themselves up into tall confidence and before I know it, there is vibrant foliage of resilience and striking blooms of courage!

I think that Hannah may be onto something. “Never bark at a dog…or your spouse, children, parents, boss, co-worker, umpire, or even that driver that cut you off in traffic today! You don’t know what you might be saying!”

(as published in SHE! August 2010)

One Man’s Trash is Another Girl’s Plant Stand (as published in SHE! July 2010)

God is in the repo business. He loves to take over where others have given up. I was reminded of this when I was dumpster diving the other day. Yes, you read right. I went dumpster diving. For those of you not familiar with this coined term, “dumpster diving” is when perfectly reputable human beings rummage through the garbage for things that others have tossed aside as trash.

It all started on a sunny Friday afternoon when I was barreling down Ballpark Road – the location of our city dump. The closer I got behind the pickup truck ahead of me, the more intrigued I became. There, in the truck bed before me, sat the most adorable scrolled wrought iron chair. Red, nonetheless. My thoughts yelled out, “Surely he isn’t going to the DUMP with that chair!” His right blinker began to pulse along with the beat of my heart as we drew near the garbage sight. Sure enough. The red, wrought iron chair was on its swan song. Well not if I had anything to do with it! I turned my Mustang right around and stalked the chair’s owner until he was out of sight. Sheepishly, I drove up beside the clanky, green dumpster that held the treasure. I wasn’t completely sure if I would be strong enough to lift the chair out, but I was determined to try. The first several attempts were completely unsuccessful. My arms were simply too short. So, I gave up and went home. OF COURSE NOT! Quicker than you could say “free chair”, I had a plan.

You should have seen me edging our red, Mustang convertible up beside that tall dumpster. I hopped up onto the car and began to reach over into the dumpster. The chair had become tangled among a discarded clothesline, yard swing, and a lawn mower. So I gave up and went home. NO! I plunged forward….almost literally! Feeling the staring eyes on me from across the parking lot (I wasn’t exactly dressed for the occasion) I summoned my arm muscles to work together in one sweeping motion and retrieved my prize! I did it! The red chair was mine now! Upon returning back home, I placed my treasure in a place of honor on the front porch with a lively plant in it. Next order of business was to post my dumpster diving adventure to my facebook status. I was pleased. One of the first comments on my wall was by my beleaguered hubby who was traveling on business and found out about my garbage procurement via social media. Oops! His comment read like, “Dear, do you really have to dig through the garbage? Has it come to that? And do you have to tell the whole world about it?” Why yes. Yes, I do. Not only was I excited about the chair, but there seemed to be a story here.

I can’t help but think of the parallel between myself and that red chair. Its paint is chipping and it is missing a leg, but that is somehow part of its beauty to me. There is still so much value in it and it is worth redeeming. When God saw life carting me away to my death in the back of a pickup truck, He did the unthinkable. He stood beside the dumpster of death and reached in to pull me out and redeem me. He placed me in a position of honor on the front porch of His love and placed new life inside of me. Psalm 103:4 says it beautifully, “He redeems your life from the pit; He crowns you with faithful love and compassion.” Does that not make you want to twirl around with joy? Can you grasp the fact that the very Creator of the universe, the Holy One, stepped into time and filth to redeem your life and mine from the pit? Amazing.

Next time you are driving past the city dump, let your heart take a twirl with the thought of being redeemed from the pit! And if you happen to see a woman standing on a convertible, keep driving. She’s plumb crazy.

There’s a boy outside

Boys are grose!

Boys have cooties!

I never bought into that line of thinking. Quite contrarily, I vividly remember thinking that boys were rather neato. They could run really fast, pick up slimy frogs without even wincing, and the amount of sweat they produced while running around the playground was impressive. They were all the things that I was not, and there was something enticing about that. They were the prince and I wanted desperately to be the princess.

The first boy I ever laid eyes on was as neato as they come. He called me beautiful and sang songs to me as he rocked me in his arms. The story goes that he would sit me up on the kitchen counter in my baby seat and even do a little soft shoe dance to the tune of “Tea for Two”, making me giggle ‘til I couldn’t breathe. That most neato of all boys happens to be my Daddy and he was the first to ever steal my heart away. I thought he was breathtakingly handsome, and still hold that belief to this day. He and I have always shared a special bond, so I can’t begin to guess how difficult it must have been for him to see me give parts of my fragile heart away to those stinky, sweaty boys!

Dad and I have sung a song together throughout the years that portrays a little bit of that saga. I thought I would share the words with you:

The men in my little girl's life

The men in my little girl's life

It seems like only yesterday when I heard my little girl say

"Daddy, there's a boy outside, his name is Rod.

He wants to play in our backyard

Can he daddy? Can he daddy? Oh please daddy."

Is it really so long ago she'd come to me and wanna know

"Dad, there's a boy outside, his name is Lee.

He wants to carry my books for me.

Can he daddy? Is it alright, dad? He's got freckles, dad."

The men in my little girl's life

The men in my little girl's life

Then came pony tails and jeans and my little girl was in her teens

"Popsie, there's a boy outside, his name is Tom.

He wants to take me to the prom.

OK, popsie? He's cute, popsie. We'll be home early, popsie."

Before I knew it time had flown and how my little girl had grown

Now it was "Father, there's a boy outside, his name is Eddie.

He wants to know if we can go steady.

Can we, father? Yes, father. Oh, can we borrow the car, pop?"

Yes it seems only yesterday I heard my lovely daughter say

"Dad, there's a boy outside, his name is Jim.

He asked me if I'd marry him. I said yes, dad.

Got something in your eye, dad? I love him, dad."

The men in my little girl's life

The men in my little girl's life

A child, an adolescent, a young lady, a wife

And oh yes, there's another man in my little girl's life

"Hi dad, there's a boy outside, his name is Tim.

I told him Grampa was gonna babysit him.

Thanks, dad. Bless you, dad. Good night, dad."

The men in my little girl's life

The men in my little girl's life

What a sweet song! What a gut-wrenching reality. Now that I have two daughters of my own, it leaves me weak in the knees to think of them giving parts of their hearts away to boys with cooties. How did my Daddy survive? How could he stand to the side and watch the story unfold? Like the time that I gave my big lollipop to the little boy who promised to be my boyfriend if I gave him my sucker, but then he and his stupid-head friend sat in the back of the bus, eating the sucker and laughing because I fell for their joke. I was out of a sucker, a boyfriend, and a big chunk of my heart. Daddy has heard me cry over many a boy, many a sucker, and sometimes they were one in the same. But ultimately, Daddy knew the secret. He knew that if I ever fell in love with the supreme Lover of my soul, then no matter what heartache came my way, I would be okay. And he was right.

See, girls - boys really do have cooties. Boys are grose. They will break your heart. But they also can take your breath away, waltzing you across the dance floor in beautiful glass slippers. They can make your heart beat fast and your imagination twirl with the possibilities of a magical future together. God designed this beautiful thing called love. But He is also there waiting for you when someone stomps all over your heart and doesn’t stay around to help clean up the mess.

Isaiah 54:5 is an intriguing verse and one that I have taken to heart. “For your Maker is your husband, the Lord of hosts is His name.” When we make God our first and foremost husband, then all the other boys play second fiddle. They don’t hold near the control over our delicate hearts that they did before. He is the One Who thrills us more than any human being could dare!

Is there a “boy outside” in your life these days? Congratulations, princess! But just remember to make God the ultimate Lover of your tender heart. Spend time with Him in His Word and in prayer and let Him sweep you off of your feet as you worship Him. Then suddenly, the Great Healer can soothe any cootie bites you may pick up along the way from those sometimes stinky, sweat “boys outside.”

Sittin' Pretty

“…for I have learned in whatever state I am, to be content.” Philippians 4:11b

The Apostle Paul said it – not me. I wouldn’t dare say that I have fully and completely learned this lesson, but I am certainly a work in process.

“Whatever state I am in” has changed several times over the last many years. Let’s see. There was South Carolina, North Carolina, Louisiana, then back to good ‘ole South Carolina. While I am fairly sure that the apostle Paul was not referring to a geographical state in which to be content, it is no secret that moving around can be tough. There’s a new house, new license plate, new friends, new school, new church, new grocery store, new bank, and new names to try to remember. Lots of new.

Each time the address has changed on my driver’s license, I have found the intense need to hang onto God for dear life. That’s not a bad thing. Whether searching for the laundry detergent aisle or that new best pal, God was quietly there assuring me with His peace. Psalm 121:5 says that the Lord stands BESIDE you. Can’t you just picture God standing in line with me at the DMV? What a thought!

I’ve had other addresses, too, that I didn’t mention yet. Maybe you’ve lived there once or twice yourself. I recall the neighborhoods of Surprise, Disappointment, and Stress. Oh, and let’s not forget the subdivision of Grief, Betrayal and Discomfort either. Those were doozies! How vividly I remember sitting on the front porch of those emotions and wondering where my fairy tale life had gone – silently asking God the questions that He knew were running around in my heart. “What just happened? Why? How? What now?” The numb throbbing was loud in my ears. The fear of the future ever present…but so was God’s unmistakable peace. People would ask, “How ARE you – really?” And I could honestly answer that I was pushing through with God’s grace and strength – really.

Then again, I have lived in some swank sectors, too. The view was incredible from the neighborhood of Maturity, Growth, and Fulfillment! And the birds were always singing when I made my home in Joy, Exhilaration, and Delight. Those places are my favorite. But the key is somehow to find the serenity and peace God gives no matter WHERE He has placed me for the time being. I don’t seem to find that in a Hershey bar (though it never hurt). No, I find my focus when I spend time reading the words God spoke, when I speak to Him and pour out the cares of my heart, and those delicious times I spend talking about Him over coffee or lunch with a friend. (We call that “soul slushing.”)

I will leave you with a more complete section of Paul’s writings from Philippians 4:11-12, and I will whisper a prayer that you and I can continue to experience more and more of the contentment that comes from knowing the lush love of an extravagant Savior – regardless of the current state in which we find ourselves.

“…for I have learned to be content whatever the circumstances. I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want.” (NIV)

Birthday Blurb

"My birthday was always a huge deal growing up - a themed party every year and lots of laughs and giggles. Through the years, the hoopla has dwindled, but I'm thinking that I don't like that trend. Since I'm turning 41 this year, I told my family that I would like for us to do 41 different things to celebrate! Let the fun begin!"