Doing Life Together

Married 50 years and Never a Dull Moment by Betty Mason Arthurs

Posted on January 19, 2016 by Betty Mason Arthurs

Married 50 Years and Never a Dull Moment by Betty Mason Arthurs

Yes, we’ve been married 50 years in June. I believe a few words sums up our marriage: Never a dull moment and plenty of dumb ones.

Our wedding vows, “’til death do us part, so help me God,” spoken on a boiling hot June day in Albion, New York in 1966,’ jump started us as two college sweethearts, a music student and nursing major, on a journey of a good and crazy love affair.

I calculated 365 days times 50 years and it comes out 18,250 days but I must add the days of leap year, which adds up to over 438,000 hours, which means we’ve shared 18,250 bedtime snacks and 2600 weeks of Sunday morning church. Gulp, that’s a lot of days to spend together, almost as many as Mr. and Mrs. Noah. Okay, I hear the groans of our eight grandchildren as they correct me with biblical truth. “Gammy, Noah was 600 years old, 219,000 days, when the flood came and after God’s gigantic Niagara Falls, he lived another 350 years. We don’t know how many years they were married.” I can hope Mrs. Noah liked animals and gully washers and grands.

Never a dull moment and plenty of dumb ones in 50 years is best told by how
we celebrated my husband’s early retirement by planning a two week dream trip from Phoenix in 2006 to England and Italy. Only one nasty glitch intruded into our lovely plans. John popped a small hernia two weeks before our departure date when he helped a friend move. “It’s not life threatening, continue on with your trip,” the surgeon reassured us and scheduled the repair as a welcome home event.

Combine a herniated husband with an arthritic wife, who can only carry her teensy purse, you can see the “dumb” lurking behind the “it’s not my fault the suitcase is the size of a refrigerator on wheels.” We were losing some excitement about our holiday across the pond. My poor groin-injured man also managed the briefcase with his laptop, a backpack with CDs, passports, my medications and snacks, tying all on to the rolling suitcase with flopping wheels.

We flew into Manchester and then took the train to the small town of Thirsk, James Herriot country. Fans of the All Creatures Great and Small books written in the 1970s, can imagine the excitement I felt checking into the ancient Three Tuns Hotel just down the street from my favorite author’s home and office. Alfred Wight, Herriot’s real name, started work as a veterinarian in the 1930s. Tomorrow we would tour the Skeldale house at 23 Kirkgate, now a museum.

The quaint hotel had no doorman or elevator so we dragged our luggage past the downstairs pub up the creaky stairs to our third story room. By now, in spite of my aches and pains, I was helping with the “can’t leave home without it” stuff. However, all grouchiness disappeared when we got to our quaint room with its lopsided doorway, cherry wood antique furniture and electric tea pot with assorted English tea bags. John flopped down on the lumpy bed and switched on CNN.

I looked out the window. “Isn’t this beautiful?” Even though John had traveled to England before, he agreed with me, Yorkshire was gorgeous country.

I filled the tea pot with water and plugged it in. Our cozy room had a tiny bathroom with a huge, ancient tub but no shower. I told John, “I haven’t taken a bath in years and I must do as the English do.” I tossed in the lavender salts from a pretty jar and sank into the tub. The hot water soothed my aching muscles and joints. But what do you do to get out of a tub when you’ve got arthritis and you have no railings to grasp and pull yourself out?

I yelled, “Johnny, help me. I can’t get out!” Did I mention, I was blonde as a baby?

He squeezed behind the tub in front of the heat radiator and towel rack, trying to grasp me below my wet armpits and gently pull me without aggravating my arthritic shoulders and his own bulging hernia. The bath salts had coated me in fragrant slime. There was no way he could get a good hold on me so I did my best to help by giggling while he groaned in pain.

I had to wonder what our neighbors thought of those seniors from America whooping it up next door; perhaps Meg Ryan and Tom Hanks are here and they’ve got more on their minds than mail? Or maybe Lucy and Ricky Ricardo are having a Cuban tryst? Today in 2016, the hotel guests might think Lady Mary from Downton Abbey is behaving badly.

Amid the noise of my splashes, slippery squeaks and giggles, my frustrated hernia-plagued hero wrapped a towel around me and finally hefted me up and out. He wobbled out holding his side and collapsed on the bed.

We did wonder at breakfast if the staff and proper patrons were smirking at us, but maybe we were just being overly sensitive. I won’t mention what happened in London or the fall I took in Milan, Italy which aggravated John’s hernia up to ten on the trickster scale since he was holding my hand and saved me.

What can I say? Mishaps fit in with “never a dull moment and plenty of dumb ones” for our 50 years together, while loving God and each other “through sickness and health, tears and laughter.” We’re the best traveling companions if it’s only to the grocery store for crackers and prune juice, so help me God!

Posted in Family Life, Family Stories, Greatest love ever, Humor, Life Transitions, Love, Romance, sweethearts, Travel, Uncategorized | Tagged love, Marriage of 50 years, sharing life, travel to England | 11 Comments

When Your Child is Hurt by Someone’s Words…by Linda Carlblom

Posted on January 15, 2016 by Linda Carlblom

(This post first appeared on Parenting With a Smile, Jan. 28, 2015)

I remember my children crying from time to time because another child said something either to them or about them that hurt their feelings. Maybe it was simple name calling, or some accusation that was made. It’s one of the things that pulls a mama’s heartstrings the most. How do you handle your child’s crisis?

I used one simple question to get to the heart of the matter. I’d hold them close as they told me what happened and what had been said. Then, wiping away their tears, I’d ask, “Is it true?” Usually the answer was no, so I’d tell them, “Then it doesn’t matter what they said. You and I know it isn’t true. God knows it isn’t true. Now you just have to live in a way that proves it.”

Occasionally, in answer to my question, they’d say yes, what they’d been hurt by was true. Or maybe it was partly true or a misunderstanding. This is a great teaching moment. An apology may be in order, or a change in the way they treat someone. Whatever the situation calls for, assure your child that everyone makes mistakes. Then help him figure out what is the right thing to do. Encourage him to do it and perhaps even offer to go with them for moral support.

Lastly, I’d remind my child that the person who hurt him needs his prayers. Jesus said to “pray for those who persecute you” (Matt. 5:44). Maybe the other child is hurting in some way himself. It’s hard to stay mad at someone you’re praying for. It helps in the forgiveness process. My kids had answers to prayer that were nothing short of miraculous when we prayed for children who hurt their feelings.

Teaching your child to respond with kindness and prayer, rather than retaliation, goes a long way in helping him get along with difficult people. It doesn’t mean he has to put up with ill treatment, but it teaches him forbearance and self control, which will serve him well as he grows into adulthood.

How do you handle your child’s hurt feelings?

Linda

Posted in Bullies, Christian Living, Doing Life Together, Faith, Family Life, Finding solutions, Forgivness, Parenting, Uncategorized | Tagged bullying, children, hurt feelings, Parenting | 3 Comments

You Are Not Broken…by Carol Boley

Posted on January 5, 2016 by Linda Carlblom

You are redeemed. You are not broken.

I’ve been mulling this over for a while and decided now is the perfect time to share it. It may not be popular, as it goes against the current grain in blogs and on Facebook posts. But please hear me out on this. I believe there’s an important point to be made that leads to victory.

An overwhelming number of Christians use the expression, “Broken and Beautiful” to describe themselves. I understand the intended message: “I am not perfect but I am enough. My faults and flaws, while obvious, don’t make me worthless. I may be broken, but I am still beautiful.”

Of course. And yet, is that the whole message God wants us to hear? It’s a given that we all are born at least slightly askew. It could not be more obvious. It’s why we need a Savior. And before we are in relationship with him, indeed we are broken but beautiful. But is it enough to say, “I’m broken and that’s okay”?—words off a Facebook poster.

Is that good news?

And what does broken really mean?

How about this?

“Therefore, if any man be in Christ, he is a new creation; the old has gone, the new has come.” (II Corinthians 5:17)

“Therefore, there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus, because through Christ Jesus the law of the Spirit of life set me free from the law of sin and death.” (Rom. 8:1, 2)

Does that sound broken to you?

Being a new creation means, among other things, healed. Forgiven. Cleansed. Righteous. Empowered by the same spirit that raised Jesus from the dead.

It requires faith to believe, “God made him who had no sin to be sin for us so that in him we might become the righteousness of God.” (II Corinthians 5:21) It doesn’t look that way if we judge by our own thoughts and actions. But God is asking us to believe him when he says that by his grace we are the righteousness of God in Christ.

It also requires faith to believe Jesus rose from the dead, forgiving all of our sins. Yet that is exactly what Christians believe. Does it require more faith to believe he died to make you whole? In the words of the song “Flawless” by Mercy Me, “The cross has made you flawless.”

You are no longer broken. In one act of his on the cross, you were made righteous. And you know what else?

You are not “undone.” You are complete in Him.

Just because you struggle doesn’t mean you are broken. Just because you are tempted doesn’t mean you are broken. Just because you are subject to human emotion and pain doesn’t mean you are broken. You are a redeemed, perfectly-loved human being who lives in a world that groans under the curse of sin. But you have been forgiven of every one of your sins…past, present, future. And sin no longer rules over you. There is no guilt, shame or condemnation on you.

You are human, subject to human shortcomings and failures. But you are no longer broken.

Check it out. In Christ:

You have the ability to rejoice always. (Philippians 4:4). You have the ability not to be anxious about anything. (Philippians 4:6). You have the ability to choose your thoughts. (Philippians 4:8).You have the ability to be content, to experience the peace of God. (Philippians 4:12; 4:7). You have the ability to stand firm, to be strong and very courageous. (I Corinthians 16:13). You have the ability to forgive (Ephesians 4:32) and to love (I John 4:7).

Does that sound broken to you?

You have the ability to be transformed by the renewing of your mind (Romans 12:2), to have the same attitude as Christ (Philippians 2:5). You have the ability to control yourself. (Galatians 5:23).

Does any of that sound broken to you?

You have the ability to do everything without complaining or arguing. (Philippians 2:14) You have the ability to speak to the creator of the universe who is also the lover of your soul. (Philippians 4:6). You have the ability to control your tongue and speak only words that uplift others. (Ephesians 4:29). You have the ability to be kind and compassionate, to forgive not only your friends and family but also your enemies (Ephesians 4:32).

Does that sound broken to you?

You have the ability to lay down your life for another (I John 3:16).

Again, I ask, does that sound broken to you?

Some say we love the broken not because we are better than they are but because we ourselves are broken. I agree we are not “better” than others and we know what it’s like to be broken. I believe we love the broken because we know how greatly God loves us. John writes that “we love because He first loved us.” (I John 4:19)

Look at the difference in focus: Ourselves or God. When we focus on ourselves and our own thoughts and deeds, we can easily become depressed and discouraged. When we focus on Jesus, we recognize we have been loved beyond our ability to understand, but not beyond our ability to experience. And share. Unconditionally.

“In this world, we are like Him.” (I John 4:17).

That doesn’t sound broken to me.

That sounds like we are more than conquerors. (Romans 8:37).

Be careful how you think about yourself. If you think of yourself as broken, you will be more likely to behave as if you are broken. See what a difference it makes if you think of yourself as the righteousness of God in Christ, redeemed, healed, cleansed, empowered. Even in those times you fail. In Christ, you are not what is broken. The power of sin over you is broken, because Jesus was willing to be broken for you. He was broken so you could be healed and whole.

Even the ability to choose what you believe means you are not broken.

Your part is to consent to be loved by him, accepting his amazing gift of wholeness and freedom and to believe he has redeemed you.

Look at yourself and believe you are broken or look at Christ and be transformed into his image. Believe your eyes or believe your God. As a theology professor of mine at Wheaton Graduate School used to say, “Take God very seriously; yourself, not at all.” The difference? Jesus. Believing what He says. Receiving what he offers. Without him, yes, you are broken, and no amount of self-discipline or willpower can fix you. You cannot save yourself. You need a Savior. A hero. And thankfully, you have one.

And thankfully, the battle over your brokenness has already been won.

If you are in Christ, stop thinking of yourself as broken. Think of yourself as Jesus does…beloved, forgiven, healed, empowered. And beautiful.

Carol

Posted in Christian Living, Faith, Hope, Jesus, Life, Motivation, Spiritual warfare, Uncategorized, weakness | Tagged brokenness, failures, faith, flawless, new creation, no condemnation, perfection, redeemed, self image, struggles, victory | 4 Comments

Happy Birthday, Jesus!

Posted on December 25, 2015 by Andrea R Huelsenbeck

Merry Christmas!

I’m sure you have a busy day today, celebrating the Lord’s birth with family and friends (or maybe not).

So, rather than burden you with a lengthy article about the season, I’d like to just share some music. Sit back, relax, enjoy.

My favorite acapella group:

My favorite scene from my favorite Christmas movie:

I dare you to watch this without your eyes tearing up:

Hysterical:

Old favorite in a new way:

Everybody’s favorite singing chickens:

No collection of Christmas music would be complete without:

And for your New Year’s Eve pleasure, another Zooey Deschanel duet:

Posted in Christmas, Christmas music | Tagged Music, music videos | Leave a comment

Santa and Me

Posted on December 18, 2015 by Linda Carlblom

Though I titled this post Santa and me, I’m not sure we’re actually in a relationship. Sorry.

Santa and I have had an on again, off again relationship most of my life. More off than on, really. I don’t have any ill feelings toward the jolly old elf, but I was never enamored with him like some kids are.

While growing up, my parents always taught us that Christmas was Jesus’ birthday and that’s why we celebrate. I never once felt like I missed out by not being fed the whole Santa Claus story. I still got gifts, but they were from people I loved like my parents, siblings, and grandparents. To me, that was more special than getting them from someone I didn’t know who dressed in a funny red suit. Besides, the wise men gave gifts to the Christ-child, (though experts say it may have been up to a few years later) so I’m okay with giving and receiving gifts at Christmas.

I never had to go through the trauma of learning that Santa wasn’t real. I’d never believed in him to begin with. It wasn’t that my parents bad-mouthed the guy or said we couldn’t believe in him. It just wasn’t our focus. He was just another decoration, like Frosty the Snowman or Rudolph. Jesus was the real deal and our attention was on Him.

As a child, I loved babies. I loved the Bible story of baby Moses being hidden in the reeds and guarded by his big sister, Miriam. My love of babies also extended to the baby Jesus figurine in our nativity set. He was so cute! I loved him before I understood the significance of who He was.

And maybe that’s the point. Decorations like the nativity scene silently point families to Jesus, the reason for our Christmas celebration. They cultivate something deep in a child (and adults!) that gives them hope. This hope isn’t just for Christmas morning like the kind Santa offers. It’s hope that lasts through all of life and its crazy ups and downs. It hands out love like the gift it is, wrapped in a swaddling cloth, lying in a manger.

Santa is jolly, Jesus is joy. Santa is temporary, Jesus is forever. Santa keeps a list of our wrongs, Jesus wiped them away on the cross. Santa rides in a reindeer-pulled sleigh, Jesus will one day return on a cloud, no vehicle required.

So Santa and me? I’m so over him. But Jesus and me? Yeah. We’re a forever thing.

Where do things stand between you and Santa? More importantly, where do things stand with you and Jesus?

Linda

Posted in Christmas, Gifts, Hope, Jesus, Santa, Uncategorized | Tagged believing in Santa, Christmas, gift giving, Jesus' birthday, Santa | 2 Comments

Nursing Home Christmas and Matilda by Betty Mason Arthurs

Posted on December 15, 2015 by Betty Mason Arthurs

Nursing Home Christmas and Matilda…by Betty Mason Arthurs

“Mrs. Arthurs, Matilda escaped during lunch, but she’s back safe and sound.” A nurse’s aide, Anne, breathlessly told me the latest escapade of one of our nursing home patients when I arrived for my evening shift. In spite of the newly installed cameras and buzzing alarms at each door, Matilda walked out into the bitter cold afternoon, wearing only her cotton dress, a thin sweater and black shoes.

I asked Anne, “How did we get her back?” However, I was thinking, “Is this the beginning of a wild Christmas season at Fairland Nursing Home? Will we be losing more confused patients as they search for their old homes and for the sons and daughters who no longer came for visits?”

All winter an icy wind blew over the Niagara Gorge and into our nursing home not far from Niagara Falls, in Lewiston, NY. In the 1970s I worked part-time. An RN and evening supervisor, my shift was from 3pm to 11pm while my husband cared for our toddler daughter and baby son.

Anne smiled. “A man who lives in the apartments ten blocks away found Matilda and brought her back. He said she reminded him of his grandmother.”

“I’m so glad she’s okay. I’m going to her room and check on her.” I waved good bye to Anne. The aides had already tucked Matilda into bed for a nap. I was grateful she had a normal blood pressure and she seemed unhurt. She asked me, “Is Sharon coming today?” How should I answer her when we all knew her daughter had died years ago?

Matilda was one of our favorite patients. In her 80s, she entertained us as she chattered nonstop about anything and nothing. In good physical shape, she prowled the halls all day, content to hug and greet strangers and each of the staff. We were her beloved family.

Patrick, our Irish gentleman, also roamed the halls and would sing us songs about Ireland and even dance a wobbly jig. A large man, he “smoked” a pipe and brightened our days as he told us tales of his childhood. We loved him too.

Nellie had suffered numerous strokes and each day we gently restrained her in a wheelchair to keep her posture upright and for her safety. She tried so hard to talk and we pretended to understand her. We parked her near the nurse’s station so she wouldn’t be alone.

Although her mind was bright and alert, Bess was one of our frail, bedridden patients. Each Sunday her grandson would gently pick her up in his arms, carry her out to his car and treat her to a ride around town. Even today, many years later, I tear up when I think of his selfless act of love for his grandmother.

All of our forty patients had interesting backgrounds and stories to tell. But the holidays were difficult. We worried that their families would not visit or bring them gifts or send a card.

Jim, a young father, we later learned, had found Matilda and taken her home to his small apartment, fixed her hot tea, enjoyed her chatter and loved seeing her with his wife and two small children. He told us, “She reminded me of my grandma. I had to help her.” Eventually he found where she belonged and brought her back to us. After that, he adopted Matilda, calling her “grandma” and came to visit her often.

In spite of all our efforts to keep the Christmas cheer going, it was a difficult season for most of our patients. But this Christmas Eve, thanks to Matilda’s crazy escape, our nursing home buzzed with excitement.

Jim, dressed in a Santa Claus suit with his wife as Mrs. Claus and his two children as elves, had special gifts for each resident. In spite of their limited income, Jim and his family had purchased sweet smelling talcum powder for each of our ladies and Old Spice aftershave for our gentlemen.

Shouting, “Ho, ho, ho, Merry Christmas,” Jim and his family paraded into each room, pulling wrapped packages out of his red cloth bag. They lovingly placed their gifts into the withered hands of each woman and man. Patients called back, “Merry Christmas.” Some said, “Thank you. God bless you!” They visited Matilda last and watched as she unwrapped her gift and in spite of her confusion, she hugged Jim and his family. “Thank you, Merry Christmas,” she said.

Like the wise men who followed a star to Bethlehem, Jim and his young family followed their hearts and with love and compassion gave gifts to the lonely folk who are often forgotten in a nursing home. I imagine Jim’s children never forgot the lesson they learned about the true meaning of Christmas. It’s in giving to others that we experience the birth of the Christ child. I know, it’s a meaningful lesson I’ve never forgotten thanks to Matilda’s escape…and a man with a huge, loving heart, Jim.

Posted in Aging, Christmas, Gifts, Grandparenting, Greatest love ever, loneliness on holidays, Love, nursing, Uncategorized | Tagged Christmas in a Nursing Home | 8 Comments

Starting a Christmas Conversation…by Andrea R Huelsenbeck

Posted on December 10, 2015 by Andrea R Huelsenbeck

Many years ago, I bought the book, The Christmas Conversation Piece: Creative Questions to Illuminate the Holidays by Bret Nicholaus and Paul Lowrie. Their stated reason for writing the book was “to enhance all your Christmas conversations and draw you closer to friends and family through the use of creative and entertaining questions.” I purchased the book intending to use it as inspiration for hundreds of Christmas stories and articles. Now that twenty years have gone by, I’m ready to post my first work spawned by this book.

In the interest of opening up and sharing myself with my readers, I have selected nine questions from the book (and one of my own) to answer.

What is your favorite Christmas scent? Constant Comment tea.
If you were going to be Santa Claus for a Christmas Eve, what one amenity or convenience factor would you insist that your sleigh feature? A heater.
As a curious child, did you ever shake gifts under the tree to try and figure out what you were getting? Do you still shake (or subtly lift) packages before Christmas? I never did. I never wanted to spoil the surprise. One of my sons, however, routinely searched for presents and carefully unwrapped and rewrapped them.
What is the oldest ornament on your tree? We own a purple ball that was on the tree during my husband’s childhood. It’s more than sixty years old.
When you think of the holiday season in New York City, what particular scene or image do you picture first? The skating rink at Rockefeller Center. I remember going to the Christmas show there one year and watching the skaters outside.
If you were in charge of hiring a department store Santa, what quality or ability above all others would you look for in the applicants? A real white beard. As a kid, I found it hard to suspend disbelief around a Santa whose beard looked like it was made of cotton balls.
Were you ever in a Christmas pageant? If so, what part did you play? I attended parochial school, and we put on a pageant every year. My favorite, though, was my eighth grade year. Parts were determined by putting names in a hat, and my name was drawn for Mary. I was not a popular child, and getting to play Mary felt like a gift.
If you could go anywhere at all to reflect on the meaning of Christmas, where would you go? I’d go back in time to my home town in the late 50s and early 60s. A neighbor on the next block from our house, an artist, built a life-size nativity set on her property. Every year she added another figure. I remember when I was about four years old, my mother walked me down to visit it, and she told me the Christmas story. As I grew older, I would make the walk myself, eventually taking my little brother with me. It drew me to prayer.
If you could create the perfect hill for sledding, what would it look like? Be specific. When I was a kid, everyone went sledding on a hill on the private property of a family whose children went to my school. My husband, who grew up in the same town, knew it as Suicide Hill. I’m guessing it was maybe 300 feet tall at a grade of about 50 degrees. (In other words, tall and steep.) At the bottom of the hill was a chain link fence that just barely prevented you from shooting out into a very busy street. These were in the days before people worried about liability. I’m sure the present owners of the property would never allow strangers to sled down that hill.
What was the hardest Christmas you ever had to go through? We expected our second child early in January 1981, but I was really hoping for a Christmas delivery. Unfortunately, halfway through the pregnancy, I lost the baby. As the holiday season approached, all I could think about was what I’d lost. I had no energy to do things like decorate the house or bake cookies. To be able to create some kind of Christmas spirit for our little girl, I bought Christmas tapes and kept the music playing. We went on to have four more children, and one of them is a December baby. His birthday is today.

Now it’s your turn. Please choose one or more of the above questions and answer in the comments below.

Posted in Christmas, Family Stories, Holiday, Memoir, Remembering | Tagged Christmas, family stories, memoir, traditions | 10 Comments

What Does your Christmas Wreath Say about You? by Andrea R Huelsenbeck

Posted on December 8, 2015 by Andrea R Huelsenbeck

I love looking at Christmas decorations. I think they reflect the people who put them up. Sometimes I wonder what those people are really like.

Many years ago, I bought a couple of horns at the craft store and dolled them up with ribbons and jingle bells and floral picks. I reasoned they would be perfect for a musician’s home.

Here are some Christmas wreaths I found on Pinterest recently. I’ve linked them back to their original articles. Sometimes directions are included–hey, there’s still time to make some these!

Santa Tulle Wreath

Hide and Seek Wreath

Yarn Wreath

Red and White Bow Wreath

Christmas Card Wreath

Candy Cane Wreath

Wood Slice Wreath

Cork Wreath

Christmas Ornament Wreath

Pinecone and Berry Wreath

Nightmare Before Christmas Wreath

Do you have a wreath displayed at your house? Why did you choose that particular wreath? Share with us in the comments.

Posted in Christmas, Doing Life Together, Holiday, traditions, Tutorials | Tagged Christmas, Christmas wreaths | 3 Comments

Christmas Under Cover…by Andrea R Huelsenbeck

Posted on December 4, 2015 by Andrea R Huelsenbeck

Much about the Christmas season inspires warmth. God’s love for us made tangible by the gift of his Son. Blazing fires in the hearth. Gatherings of family and friends. Cups of hot chocolate or spiced cider.

But there’s something especially warming about snuggling under a Christmas quilt. Traditional, yet timeless. Artful, yet practical. Here are a dozen lovely ones gleaned from Etsy.com. Some are bed-sized, and some are wall quilts. All were still available when I found them on Wednesday. Click on the caption above each picture for further details.

Red and White Beauty from stylinquiltdesigns.

Peppermint Kisses from stylinquiltdesigns.

Stars and Pinwheels from WillowRidgeQuilts.

Irregular Stars from LiveOakHome.

Merry Go Round from KandKKrafts.

Snowballs in My Garden from RedLetterQuilts.

Christmas Pinwheels from QTUWbyNancy.

Starry Christmas from DymphnaGoesQuilty.

Run Run Rudolph from Quiltinggrammy5.

Granny Square from Modquiltsandcompany.

Diagonal Ohio Star from SoosCreekQuilts.

Vintage Appliqué from WinterberryGifts.

Do you have any Christmas quilts at your house? Ones that you’ve made, or were given to you as gifts? Share in the comments.

Posted in Christmas, Quilting | Tagged Etsy | 4 Comments

Always Reason to Celebrate

Posted on December 1, 2015 by Carol Boley

December first–one of my favorite days of the year! The beginning of the most celebrated month. School programs, cookie exchanges, church festivities, baking, shopping, decorating…busy, busy, busy. It’s become such a big deal that whole books have been written on how to organize yourself, your family, your kitchen and your recipes so you don’t miss any of the fun. There is the slightest possibility that things have gotten out of control.

All while I enjoy some of this busy-ness, which can be fun and contribute to the pleasure of the season, the flurry of activity is not why I love December.

In all honesty, some of my Decembers have been more fun than others. I remember Christmases bearing the shadow of sadness caused by death…those uncomfortable, sometimes seemingly unbearable, “firsts” without a beloved family member. I remember Christmases marred by disappointment, failing to live up to my expectations. I remember Christmases freakishly different than how they had ever been celebrated before and feeling let down and cheated.

It’s good to have experienced those Christmases.

I’ve also known magical Christmases where every part of the celebration exceeded my expectations…when I’ve been surprised with the perfect present, everyone got along and went out of their way to make the day special for everyone else, people loved their gifts, the meal turned out fit for a Food Network Channel special, and and the house looked like a page from Southern Living. And as if it couldn’t get any better, there was the Christmas Day I had a baby girl. Our nurses enjoyed that, too, as they brought her out to us wearing a Santa hat.

It’s good to have experienced those Christmases.

And since I’ve lived through the extremes and every point in between in terms of Christmas celebrations, I’ve learned not to fear the imperfect nor to expect joy from circumstance.

It couldn’t be more clear to me that the reason I celebrate never changes. It is not dependent on what may or may not hide under the tree or bake in the oven. Fudge doesn’t set? No problem. Eat it with a spoon. It doesn’t depend on whose chair sits empty at the table. Love is eternal and death doesn’t win. It doesn’t depend on where I am or who I’m with. And this is good news…good news of great joy for all people.

For I have no control over life and death. I have no control how other people choose to feel, think or act. I have not control over many of the circumstances of life. I can’t even consistently control the consistency of my fudge.

But this I know and this is always worth celebrating. I am loved. You are loved. We are forgiven, declared righteous by the blood of the baby whose birth we celebrate. It is the gift given to us by grace, by the undeserved, unmerited favor of our God towards us, his beloved. And this never changes.