This year my office decided to have an ornament exchange to celebrate the Holidays, and I was inspired to write the following while wrapping my contribution. I hope you enjoy it:
There once was a little round glob of glass that lived in the scrap bin at a glassblower’s studio. It wasn’t lonely—it had lots of company, but it was depressed and downcast, because it had wanted more out of life than to just take up space.
One day, the glassblower was commissioned by the city where he lived to fashion some very special ornaments for a tree that would stand in the county courthouse over the Christmas holidays. He was overjoyed at this prospect, because not only would it bring him a handsome and much-needed commission, but it would give him a special opportunity to show what he could do, perhaps bring more work his direction, and let him show his own devotion in a way that was truly unique.
He decided to use only the glass fragments in his scrap bin to symbolize how God is able to use whatever is available to achieve His ends, even the most fragmented and downtrodden. Thus inspired, the glassblower went to work using the utmost of his talents to create glass ornaments that would do justice to the season, the tree, and himself.
The tree was decorated, and it was indeed glorious to behold. People came from all the nearby towns and counties to see it, because the word had gotten out that it was wonderful, and before the end of the season it had gained a fair measure of fame. When it was time, the tree was taken down and the decorations packed away, and everyone thought how wonderful it would be to enjoy them again the following year, but when the time came to retrieve the tree trimmings from storage--they had disappeared! The townsfolk looked high and low, but nowhere could these beautiful glass ornaments be found.
Rumor had it that the glassblower himself had taken them and secretly sent them as gifts to other cities to bless and inspire them by his work. Occasionally, someone would think they had seen one, but the little town itself never saw them again. It was said that every year each glass ball was passed on to yet another town, or even to deserving individuals, to bless them in turn.
And so it came about that the little round glob of glass was able to achieve its heart’s desire: to amount to something beautiful and make a difference in the lives of others. Who knows, maybe it’s even the one you got this year!
Merry Christmas!
Saturday, December 20, 2008
Friday, December 19, 2008
Christmas--Bah, Humbug?
Considering the pain our nation and the world are enduring at this moment, I reflected for a while this morning on the fact that our current economic woes may actually be blessings in disguise. I cannot minimize the suffering individuals and their families are experiencing right now, or the fact that this economic crisis has had far-reaching consequences that few of us might have anticipated one year ago. I doubt that there is a single person whose life is untouched, so each of us must be more compassionate than usual and try to find ways to help. How many of us have bemoaned the fact that Christmas in particular and holidays in general had disintegrated into little more than over-commercialized expressions of greed? How many have longed to return to simpler times when, in the case of Christmas, what we celebrated was the birth of the Messiah and what that represented?
I don’t know how other people feel about the advertisements running on TV right now, but most of them seem very out of touch. I’m sure for some, it’s “business as usual,” and I know retailers depend on Christmas sales for a majority of their yearly income, but I doubt many of us are going to run out and buy a brand-new BMW or Mercedes right now. I heard a newscast last week on TV saying that the American sales fleet told Mercedes not to send any more cars, because there were loads of them sitting on the docks unsold. No, the possibility of buying a new car or plasma TV seems remote if you just lost your job, you’re wondering if you’ll have a job next week, or you’re just trying to feed your family and keep a roof over their heads!
I remember when Christmas, at least in my family, meant making the presents you intended to give, spending time with family and loved ones, and yes—attending Church. It wasn’t about giving expensive gifts or the latest technological fad. It wasn’t about buying new party dresses and going out. You didn’t give people money for Christmas so they could go and buy what they wanted—you spent time giving of your own industry and thoughtfulness. And, you appreciated and were grateful for what you received, no matter how quaint or ill-conceived the gift might be, because that person took the time to care about you. Granted, it is so much easier to just drop a check in the mail or buy a gift card, but it’s also lazy. Who needs to take time to figure out what the person might like? Who even cares to bother? My friends know how I like iTunes, but I don’t want to get a gift card for Christmas unless it’s from my employer or someone who lives thousands of miles away. This year, I’m giving mostly what I call “cards and cookies.” I’ve made a few crocheted and knitted items for the really special folks. I still have no idea what to give my husband, however, though finishing a sweater I started years ago or making him a new robe would be good.
I never dreamed I would ever see so many friends and family members facing economic hardship. I never thought scenes from Dickens would become a daily reality, but when you work in health care as I do, you see it every day: the homeless, whose most immediate need is a meal and a warm, dry bed for the night; those who drown their troubles in alcohol or drugs; or the desperate who want to end the pain, or at least make a cry for help. I can thank God, Providence, or my lucky stars that I’m not in those circumstances myself, but I’ve come to realize that I AM in the boat with these people, and that if I can’t find compassion in my heart and make some attempts at helping, then I’m not much of a human being. Sometimes it takes being creative to find the right way to make a difference, but if each person could reach out and do one thing, it WOULD make a difference. Some people might say that what’s happening now is just the “chickens coming home to roost”—and that may be true, but I’d like to think that all of us have an opportunity to become more than we’ve been and BE better people.
I don’t know how other people feel about the advertisements running on TV right now, but most of them seem very out of touch. I’m sure for some, it’s “business as usual,” and I know retailers depend on Christmas sales for a majority of their yearly income, but I doubt many of us are going to run out and buy a brand-new BMW or Mercedes right now. I heard a newscast last week on TV saying that the American sales fleet told Mercedes not to send any more cars, because there were loads of them sitting on the docks unsold. No, the possibility of buying a new car or plasma TV seems remote if you just lost your job, you’re wondering if you’ll have a job next week, or you’re just trying to feed your family and keep a roof over their heads!
I remember when Christmas, at least in my family, meant making the presents you intended to give, spending time with family and loved ones, and yes—attending Church. It wasn’t about giving expensive gifts or the latest technological fad. It wasn’t about buying new party dresses and going out. You didn’t give people money for Christmas so they could go and buy what they wanted—you spent time giving of your own industry and thoughtfulness. And, you appreciated and were grateful for what you received, no matter how quaint or ill-conceived the gift might be, because that person took the time to care about you. Granted, it is so much easier to just drop a check in the mail or buy a gift card, but it’s also lazy. Who needs to take time to figure out what the person might like? Who even cares to bother? My friends know how I like iTunes, but I don’t want to get a gift card for Christmas unless it’s from my employer or someone who lives thousands of miles away. This year, I’m giving mostly what I call “cards and cookies.” I’ve made a few crocheted and knitted items for the really special folks. I still have no idea what to give my husband, however, though finishing a sweater I started years ago or making him a new robe would be good.
I never dreamed I would ever see so many friends and family members facing economic hardship. I never thought scenes from Dickens would become a daily reality, but when you work in health care as I do, you see it every day: the homeless, whose most immediate need is a meal and a warm, dry bed for the night; those who drown their troubles in alcohol or drugs; or the desperate who want to end the pain, or at least make a cry for help. I can thank God, Providence, or my lucky stars that I’m not in those circumstances myself, but I’ve come to realize that I AM in the boat with these people, and that if I can’t find compassion in my heart and make some attempts at helping, then I’m not much of a human being. Sometimes it takes being creative to find the right way to make a difference, but if each person could reach out and do one thing, it WOULD make a difference. Some people might say that what’s happening now is just the “chickens coming home to roost”—and that may be true, but I’d like to think that all of us have an opportunity to become more than we’ve been and BE better people.
Friday, December 5, 2008
The Most Wonderful Time of the Year
It’s that time again. You know, when everyone’s hoping it might snow, and trying to figure out what to do for Christmas THIS time around. I’ve been pre-occupied with other things this past month, but turning my attention to something else is far overdue. It’s time to start writing out a few cards and letters and trying to decide what gifts I plan to buy, so considering there are only about 20 more days to go, I’d better get with it!
I have always loved Christmas. People say Christmas is for kids, but I never grew up, did you? I guess part of it is that I love giving gifts, no matter what time of year. I love the bustle of shopping, decorating the house, baking special treats, and wrapping beautiful packages—never mind that they will be ripped to shreds and destroyed in a moment—that’s part of the fun.
Christmas was always at my Grandma Rose’s house when I was a kid. That was partly due to the fact that my Mom and Dad and I lived there too, until I was about five years old and we moved into our own house. In later years we had a tree and opened presents on Christmas morning at home, but to me, Christmas didn’t really start until we got to Grandma’s house. Dinner was always there, regardless.
I was the only child, as well as the first and only grandchild, for quite a few years growing up, so my expectations were naturally somewhat skewed. I can remember a Christmas when I was probably about two years old, when it looked as though there were about a thousand presents under the tree, and most of them ended up being for me. That was all right! I’ve always loved receiving gifts too—but still, nothing makes me happier than watching someone open a package that I’ve prepared just for them.
Our family developed a few of its own traditions through the years. The type of tree and how it was decorated, decorations in and around the house, what kinds of sweets Grandma and I baked to serve or give away, and what would be on the table Christmas Day: all these things took on their own special significance. I nearly always baked with Grandma, rather than my Mom, but that was because Grandma let me cook at her house, and she’s the one who actually taught me. Mom baked sugar and candy cane cookies, but that was about it. Grandma taught me how to make peanut brittle the old-fashioned way, and to make fruitcake. One year I made goat milk fudge. I even learned how to make and put together gingerbread houses at Grandma’s, so those became part of our Christmas tradition, too.
Grandma would usually let me decorate her tree for her, and she never went out and selected her own, but someone in the family would always bring her one and put it on a stand. My Mom decorated our tree, and she would select it in the summertime while she was out in the woods. Mom preferred blue spruce trees with all blue lights, but Grandma’s was generally a fir and was covered with all different-colored lights. We never had white lights on our tree back then, and I never saw trees with all white lights until we moved to Seattle.
Normally there were huge gobs of tinsel on the tree, and as many different shiny glass and metal ornaments as we could get on it. We’ve had many ornaments through the years, but I like to decorate with special ornaments. Each year I buy one special ornament to represent that year, or we will receive an especially nice one as a gift.
One year I bought a lighted capiz shell star to put on top. Grandma’s tree had a star for a topper for a while, but one year she bought one of those pointy ornament-type toppers that is supposed to look like a star. Mom had an angel that went on top of ours. The angel was a printed picture on cardboard, but she had real platinum blonde hair and wings made of white feathers glued onto it. It was very beautiful, and we enjoyed it for many years, but one year Mom stored the Christmas ornament boxes in one end of the horses’ metal feed shed, and one of them dragged the boxes down to see what was inside. The horse was just being curious, of course, but the angel ended up being trampled in the muck, and I was so upset I cried. Christmas was never the same without it, and it was almost as though someone I loved had died.
We didn’t have a fireplace when I was growing up, and there were no mantle decorations, so it was always a toss-up where to hang our stockings. Mom would put an orange in the bottom, along with handfuls of candies and nuts. We didn’t have “stocking stuffer” gifts, since Santa supposedly filled the stockings while we were asleep, but somehow I always knew it was Mom. Now that we have a fireplace, Sam, Roxi (our German Shepherd dog), Hadarah (my horse), and I can hang our stockings on little brass hooks set in place by the previous owners. Sam’s stocking has a picture of a teddy bear on it, and mine has a rocking horse. Roxi and Hadarah just have red fuzzy stockings topped with white fur, but they don’t care. I think Roxi’s will have a nice, yummy bone and lots of dog treats, but I don’t know what to put in Sam’s stocking yet. Hadarah’s will have some apples, carrots and a bag of horse cookies. Hmm, am I Santa? At our house, probably I am.
This will be the second Christmas Sam and I spend in our house. It’s odd to think back on traditions and decorations brought from both our families and over the years we’ve been together. Now we’re trying to decide what fits us, here and now. I’ve always wanted outdoor lights, but Sam doesn’t want to put them up. We don’t have children or loads of friends or church members that we expect to drop by, and all our family members live a long way from here. We’ll spoil the dog, and I do hope we can have a small get-together with our friends, but Christmas nowadays is rather Spartan compared to when we grew up. Most of us will have to work at least part of the Holidays, and all of us have to watch our waistlines.
I plan to start getting into the right spirit tonight by watching a few of my favorite Christmas movies on DVD, having a couple of Irish coffees, and making up a Christmas carol playlist for my iPod that I can share with my co-workers. Maybe tomorrow I’ll start on the card writing and make a few cookies while I’m at it. It sounds like fun to me!
I have always loved Christmas. People say Christmas is for kids, but I never grew up, did you? I guess part of it is that I love giving gifts, no matter what time of year. I love the bustle of shopping, decorating the house, baking special treats, and wrapping beautiful packages—never mind that they will be ripped to shreds and destroyed in a moment—that’s part of the fun.
Christmas was always at my Grandma Rose’s house when I was a kid. That was partly due to the fact that my Mom and Dad and I lived there too, until I was about five years old and we moved into our own house. In later years we had a tree and opened presents on Christmas morning at home, but to me, Christmas didn’t really start until we got to Grandma’s house. Dinner was always there, regardless.
I was the only child, as well as the first and only grandchild, for quite a few years growing up, so my expectations were naturally somewhat skewed. I can remember a Christmas when I was probably about two years old, when it looked as though there were about a thousand presents under the tree, and most of them ended up being for me. That was all right! I’ve always loved receiving gifts too—but still, nothing makes me happier than watching someone open a package that I’ve prepared just for them.
Our family developed a few of its own traditions through the years. The type of tree and how it was decorated, decorations in and around the house, what kinds of sweets Grandma and I baked to serve or give away, and what would be on the table Christmas Day: all these things took on their own special significance. I nearly always baked with Grandma, rather than my Mom, but that was because Grandma let me cook at her house, and she’s the one who actually taught me. Mom baked sugar and candy cane cookies, but that was about it. Grandma taught me how to make peanut brittle the old-fashioned way, and to make fruitcake. One year I made goat milk fudge. I even learned how to make and put together gingerbread houses at Grandma’s, so those became part of our Christmas tradition, too.
Grandma would usually let me decorate her tree for her, and she never went out and selected her own, but someone in the family would always bring her one and put it on a stand. My Mom decorated our tree, and she would select it in the summertime while she was out in the woods. Mom preferred blue spruce trees with all blue lights, but Grandma’s was generally a fir and was covered with all different-colored lights. We never had white lights on our tree back then, and I never saw trees with all white lights until we moved to Seattle.
Normally there were huge gobs of tinsel on the tree, and as many different shiny glass and metal ornaments as we could get on it. We’ve had many ornaments through the years, but I like to decorate with special ornaments. Each year I buy one special ornament to represent that year, or we will receive an especially nice one as a gift.
One year I bought a lighted capiz shell star to put on top. Grandma’s tree had a star for a topper for a while, but one year she bought one of those pointy ornament-type toppers that is supposed to look like a star. Mom had an angel that went on top of ours. The angel was a printed picture on cardboard, but she had real platinum blonde hair and wings made of white feathers glued onto it. It was very beautiful, and we enjoyed it for many years, but one year Mom stored the Christmas ornament boxes in one end of the horses’ metal feed shed, and one of them dragged the boxes down to see what was inside. The horse was just being curious, of course, but the angel ended up being trampled in the muck, and I was so upset I cried. Christmas was never the same without it, and it was almost as though someone I loved had died.
We didn’t have a fireplace when I was growing up, and there were no mantle decorations, so it was always a toss-up where to hang our stockings. Mom would put an orange in the bottom, along with handfuls of candies and nuts. We didn’t have “stocking stuffer” gifts, since Santa supposedly filled the stockings while we were asleep, but somehow I always knew it was Mom. Now that we have a fireplace, Sam, Roxi (our German Shepherd dog), Hadarah (my horse), and I can hang our stockings on little brass hooks set in place by the previous owners. Sam’s stocking has a picture of a teddy bear on it, and mine has a rocking horse. Roxi and Hadarah just have red fuzzy stockings topped with white fur, but they don’t care. I think Roxi’s will have a nice, yummy bone and lots of dog treats, but I don’t know what to put in Sam’s stocking yet. Hadarah’s will have some apples, carrots and a bag of horse cookies. Hmm, am I Santa? At our house, probably I am.
This will be the second Christmas Sam and I spend in our house. It’s odd to think back on traditions and decorations brought from both our families and over the years we’ve been together. Now we’re trying to decide what fits us, here and now. I’ve always wanted outdoor lights, but Sam doesn’t want to put them up. We don’t have children or loads of friends or church members that we expect to drop by, and all our family members live a long way from here. We’ll spoil the dog, and I do hope we can have a small get-together with our friends, but Christmas nowadays is rather Spartan compared to when we grew up. Most of us will have to work at least part of the Holidays, and all of us have to watch our waistlines.
I plan to start getting into the right spirit tonight by watching a few of my favorite Christmas movies on DVD, having a couple of Irish coffees, and making up a Christmas carol playlist for my iPod that I can share with my co-workers. Maybe tomorrow I’ll start on the card writing and make a few cookies while I’m at it. It sounds like fun to me!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
