Christmas Eve is not quite Christmas, yet. Although, many churches have Christmas Eve services to celebrate the birth of Jesus, it’s not what I am going to discuss today.
Today, the cardinal has been on my mind. It is said that when we see a cardinal, it represents the spirit of a loved one that has died. At this time of year, empty chairs at a family gathering are conspicuous. I know that I miss my loved ones that made Christmas special for me when I was a child. But, that’s not what I wanted to share today.
The male cardinal with its bright red feathers stands out against a snowy background. I guess that’s why many pictures and greeting cards have them featured that way. But, here in the southern part of the US, snow is so rare and infrequent that most cities don’t have a snowplow. A quarter inch of accumulation can paralyze most cities. This doesn’t even take into account the longtime residents, like me, who have no idea how to drive in the snow. Cardinals in the snow are not really something that I have encountered.
A winter day where I live is cool temperatures with clear cerulean skies or a little bit warmer with gray overcast skies. Neither one of these really has any clouds in the sky. Clouds in the winter are just a sign that the sky will change from the clear blue to the flat gray in a couple of days. The cardinal with its bright feathers will stand out against either the gray or the blue sky. But, neither are really featured in photos or greeting cards. I guess that a gray Christmas doesn’t sound as nice as a white one. But, to this Southern girl, a white Christmas fills me with panic while a gray one makes me feel warm and festive.
That’s how I feel when I see cardinals. Now, I feel a sense of love and joy. I do miss my dad, my in-laws, grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, and my dog and probably always will. Right now, though, on Christmas Eve 2023, I am filled with joy when I think of the love shared between us and the memories I have. The bright cheery cardinals remind me that I loved and was loved in return. That is one of my favorite gifts of Christmas – love.
When my children were younger, much younger, my daughters introduced me to the term “Christmas Adam.” I had never heard of it before and so I questioned them about it. With a huge smile on her face, my youngest daughter answered me, with much glee, and said,”Mommy, Christmas Adam is December 23rd, because Adam came before Eve!” This made me laugh almost as much as my daughter.
As a Gen-Xer, I of course, knew about Festivus already. On the show, Seinfeld, George Constanza tells Jerry about how his father, Frank, made up his own holiday when George was young. So, later, Jerry talked to Frank about Festivus.
Frank said that he was tired of the commercialism and holiday craziness that he saw going on around him. So, he made up his own holiday called Festivus. On Festivus, instead of putting up a tree and decorating it, everyone is to erect a metal pole on their front lawn and put lights on it. This metal pole is, of course, a Festivus Pole. Instead of loved ones getting together to share a special dinner or have a party, the purpose of the gathering is so that people can tell other people how they had wronged or annoyed them. Frank Costanza called it, “the airing of grievances.” Finally, instead of saying “Happy Hanukkah” or “Merry Christmas” or “Happy Kwanza”, the official greeting of Festivus is, “Festivus for the rest of us.”
With these two events in my head, I was reminded of another 23. The 23 that jumped into my mind is Psalm 23. My dad had a framed cross stitch picture that my grandmother had made him hanging on the wall. The sentence my grandmother had cross stitched was, “The Lord is my shepherd. I shall not want.” Before I knew what Psalm 23 was, I knew that phrase.So, rather than put up a pole or air grievances, I have been thinking about Psalm 23, my father, and my grandmother today.
My grandmother took her faith seriously and she shared it with her children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren. Her faith supported her for many years as my grandfather was stationed overseas more than once while he was an active duty Air Force officer. When he was stateside, her faith sustained her through many moves while raising three children. Knowing my dad, he alone was probably a handful, much less having two more children!
To honor my memories of my grandmother, I read Psalm 23 and have been pondering it today. Is the Lord my shepherd? Do I trust Him to guide me as a shepherd does a flock of sheep? The answer to both questions is the same, “Yes.”
Why do I believe that? Well, my grandmother was a pretty convincing witness to God’s protection and care for His people. But, somewhere down the line, I had to take what she told me and apply it to my own life and see what happened for myself. It turns out that my grandmother, Mema, was one smart cookie! I should have known that she would not steer me wrong.
The last few posts have been in a more serious or downright sad vein. Since life is not all sad or all happy, but rather a mixture of both, here’s a picture that made me laugh. I hope you will get a chuckle out of it too.
Today is Winter Solstice, the longest night of the year. It’s not an easy day for me. I have seasonal affective disorder, also known as SAD. The long periods of darkness in the winter are not easy for me. So, the longest night just means that I have a shorter period of time to enjoy the sunlight. That didn’t always used to be the case.
When I was younger, before my puberty hormones kicked in and depression was a thing, I enjoyed Winter Solstice. School was out for vacation. Christmas was only a few days away. Plus, it was Pops’ birthday.
Pops is my grandfather, my mother’s dad. His birthday celebration always kicked off Christmas for me when I was a child. My sister and I would go to his house and help celebrate it. Then, we would just spend the nights leading up to Christmas at my grandparents’ house.
We did typical pre-Christmas festivities with them, like tree decorating and cookie baking. But, my grandparents would turn each event into a production. I guess they wanted to be sure and record it for posterity.
My grandmother, Mom, was in charge of the visual portion of the holiday season. With her first generation Polaroid camera she took pictures of just about everything, especially my sister and I. My grandfather, Pops, was in charge of the audio portion. Armed with his portable Radio Shack Realistic portable cassette tape recorder with an external microphone, he would record just about everything between his birthday, which featured my sister and I singing “Happy Birthday” to Christmas dinner, which featured the sounds of silverware clinking against the plates.
As my sister and I got older, Christmas celebrations changed. My parents divorced. My sister and I had homework and school projects to do, so we wouldn’t spend a week with Mom and Pops. But, the most difficult for me, was the changes that came over time.
Mom and Pops began to slow down. They experienced the deaths of parents and siblings. The Polaroid and cassette recorder stopped working. Mom got a newer model Polaroid camera and Pops’ cassette recorder gave way to a video cassette recorder. I tried to go along with the new equipment, but it didn’t feel “right”.
The new recording equipment was bad enough. But, then, Mom and Pops began to age. Pops’ many years of smoking caught up with him and he died from lung cancer. Mom lived a few years longer than Pops, but the dementia that only Pops noticed before he died, became apparent to the rest of the family.
With the Christmas experience that Mom and Pops provided gone along with them, I began to dread the Winter Solstice. The long darkness echoed the grief in my heart. There wasn’t enough daylight and I wasn’t eating Pops’ birthday cake with him.
In 2011, things changed. That year, a good friend invited me to go to a Longest Night church service at an intown church. I went, not knowing what to expect. What I experienced changed my heart. Rather than grieve the long darkness, like I did, the church service celebrated it. They rejoiced that the light would become a bigger part of the day.
It was a perspective shift for me. Instead of mourning the darkness, I would rejoice in the coming light. Yes, my loved ones are no longer physically with me, but I have my memories. In my memory, they never get older or replace their cameras and cassette recorder. I can celebrate them along with the light.
This is not going to be a long post. I have had two long days back-to-back. Now, I am tired at a very early hour.
If I could stay awake long enough to write a sequel to any play, which I can’t, it would be a sequel to Eugene O’Neill’s A Long Day’s Journey into Night. Rather than add a “2” or an “II” to the end, like a lot of movies, I would put it at the beginning.
My play would be called Two Long Days’ Journeys into Night. I am so tired. I hope that I will never do this again.
That phrase reminds me of part of a comedy bit from the late 80’s or early 90’s. It was called “Drinker’s Remorse” and the comedian talked about the stages of drinking, the pain of a hangover, and ended the routine with the drinker’s pledge.
Since I can’t remember which comedian did it or even the name of the show it was on, I am not able to give proper credit to the author. So, I will paraphrase it to hopefully blur it enough that no one will come after me for copyright infringement.
The Insomniac’s Pledge: I am never going to stay up all night ever again, or at least until I don’t remember how sleepy I feel right now.
Sometimes, plans don’t always go according to the plan. I woke up with a certain plan in mind for today. Then, the Author of the day reminded me that no matter how many plans I make, I am not really in control of them.
When I woke up today, I had relaxing pre-holiday fun, festivities, and creative play on my schedule. I drove about thirty minutes to my first festive event. Before exiting my car, I checked the text messages on my phone in anticipation of ignoring any beeps, buzzes, or other sounds that would interrupt the fun time which was about to begin. The text was a picture of a positive Covid-19 test taken just a few minutes earlier by the hostess with the mostest of the gathering which I planned to attend later this evening. My plans for the rest of the day were suddenly altered.
Since I would not be attending a festive evening gathering, my creative plans were quickly scuttled. My plan, when I woke up, was to experiment in the kitchen. I had the brilliant idea to alter my sausage cheese ball recipe. I anticipated a slightly spicy improvement to my original recipe. But,rather than experiment, I set aside the ingredients and decided to play with the food at some other time.
This is not typical Monica behavior. Holes are to be filled in to avoid tripping and falling. So, when a hole in my schedule appears, I will fill it with another activity or event.
Why did I act differently this time? I don’t know for sure, but I hope that it’s a sign of a change in my attitude. A little over eighteen months ago, I was encouraged by my therapist to start attending a twelve step meeting. Step number three says that the participants are to completely surrender their will to God.
I know that I alluded to how I used to act earlier, but I will repeat it more plainly. Prior to attending recovery meetings, I rarely even thought about surrendering my will, much less actually doing it on a routine basis.
As a Jesus follower, I knew that I was supposed to surrender. Occasionally, I would even try to do it. But the surrender lifestyle was incompatible with my strong will. So, I strong-willed my way through most of my life.
Being strong willed and stubborn enough to persevere may sound like a good thing. But, that’s an illusion. A strong-willed stubborn person who perseveres and white-knuckles their way through life does so at the expense of the relationships with others. Unfortunately, I have a lot of firsthand experience of this.
When I decided to live a surrendered life most of the time instead of only every other blue moon, I noticed a change in my emotions. My anger didn’t explode nearly as often. I didn’t say never, because I drive in Atlanta, Georgia traffic routinely, Atlanta automobile traffic is roughly equivalent to its airport traffic – busy all hours of the day with vehicles moving at high rates of speed. Traffic not withstanding, my overall temper was dialed down several degrees.
So, when my schedule was altered this morning, I chose to go along with the Planner’s idea, rather than offer my suggestions. As a result, I relaxed at home for a bit, did a couple of low-energy tasks, and when a friend called, there was time to talk.
It’s been said that life is what happens when you are busy making plans. Today, I did not make a plan. As a result, I enjoyed a little bit of life!
‘Twas the week before Christmas and Monica was in a quake.
It is the first Christmas in 17 years without her faithful companion, Jake.
Jake was a loving dog it’s true, but Monica didn’t know why she felt so blue.
She pondered and pondered and when she was done, she realized the problem, she finally felt truly alone.
First it was Pops, then Mema, Mom T., and Dad, plus from her bonus family, Pawpaw, Mawmaw, Kyle – the losses made her so sad, though the rest of the world seemed oh so glad.
While those past Decembers were tainted with grief, at least there was Jake for comic relief.
Now the time had come, another melancholy December, but now Jake was missing from the home.
Jake is gone and the house seems so bare, quickly Monica felt despair.
The thoughts, they came, making fun of her sorrow and filling her with shame.
Then the radio played a song. All of a sudden Monica’s sadness didn’t seem so wrong.
The poem above pretty well encapsulates how “not right” I have felt this holiday season. But, my heart lifted after hearing Toby Mac’s new song, Christmas Hits Different. I have attached links below for the video and lyrics of the song. If Christmas hits different for you this year, let me know and I will say prayers that you will find a measure of peace.
I enjoy going to the movies and reading books. I like to talk about both with my friends. I will often ask their opinions on what they have read or watched. Recently, I read a review of a movie that I had just watched. On RottenTomatoes, the movie critics gave the movie a poor review, but audiences loved it. This is why I usually don’t look up reviews online, because I don’t like what most critics have to say.
In their attempt to show off their “superior” knowledge of movies and the art of moviemaking, critics will condemn plots with happy endings, the only kind I like, as simplistic or fantasy or unrealistic. The negative comments of media critics are not helpful or encouraging to the creators of the works, nor are they particularly inspiring. They are condescending in an attempt to make the critics look more important than they are.
People face all kinds of criticism on a daily basis. Some critical comments come from other people who don’t like the opinions, looks, or actions of people around them. I have done my fair share of judging and criticizing others. But, I have not ever told another person the negative, nasty, hateful things that I have told myself.
I find faults with myself that I will quickly excuse in others. I will obsess over every thought, spoken word, or action that I do. In fact, I will go over what I have done with a metaphorical fine tooth comb dissecting and finding fault. There’s a reason it’s called nit picking. It’s very much like combing the hair of a child exposed to lice.
People are born with an inner critic. Unfortunately, it’s natural to beat up ourselves, especially when we are teenagers, and find lots of faults with ourselves. The voice of the inner critic is loud, sharp, and painful. It often drowns out the compliments of others.
The inner critic will say things like, “If they only knew what I knew about you, your friends would not like you.” Another popular message that the inner critic will say is, “Of course your family says nice things about you, but nobody else says them.” The inner critic will condemn what we wear, what we eat, our appearance, what we choose to do for fun, and the list goes on and on.
The inner critic also questions us. It may say, “Who do you think you are?” Another question it may ask is, “What makes you so special?” The question I hear most often is, “What did you do to deserve this mess you have made of your life or cause these bad things to happen?”
Questions are not bad things to ask. As children we’re told that the only way to learn something is to ask questions. During the late sixties and early seventies, people were told to question injustice. The questions the inner critic asks, though, are not questions designed to give us understanding or right societal wrongs. They are questions designed to confuse or condemn.
One such inner critic that asks questions shows up in one of the oldest and most translated pieces of literature in the world. But, the inner critic is not identified as an inner critic. In the story, a serpent, or perhaps a snake, takes on the role of critic. As the story goes, this being asks a woman, “Did God really say,’You are not to eat from any tree in the garden’?” In other ancient texts, this inner critic is called an accuser or deceiver. Whatever the name, the inner critic is a liar that hates good and seeks to make themself more important than the One who created the galaxies and everything in them. When it failed to do that, this being went after the beloved creation of the Creator, seeking to destroy the relationship between the two.
Since the enemy is a liar and there is no truth in him, it is not a stretch to say that our inner critics lie 100% of the time. Sometimes the inner critic will speak in half-truths. But, a half-truth is still a lie. Listening to the inner critic will cause people to act by accepting lies as facts. This can lead to disaster.
The best way to silence liars is to tell the truth. Liars are always found out and truth is revealed. When children lie to get out of trouble, the deception is exposed because it cannot stand up to the truth, just like the deceiver is no match for the Creator.
Truth is found in the words of the Creator. The Creator inspired certain numbers of His creation to write words of Truth. Some words of Truth that I like to use to silence my inner critic are in the image below. They remind me and my critic that my Creator fashioned me and that I am to praise my Creator and ignore my critic.
Almost everyone these days know what number to call in case of an emergency, 911. But, have you heard of 411? If you have already celebrated your 45th birthday, you remember this ancestor of virtual assistance like Siri or Alexa. If you are younger than 45, settle down in a comfortable chair. Maybe, you might grab a glass of water, or a blanket, or a stuffed animal, or all three. It’s time for a story.
In the days before email was common and cell phones were used by the wealthy or military, Google and other information gathering web sites did not exist. If people wanted to gather information on a topic, they would go to the library and read an encyclopedia entry to gain the knowledge that they sought. Or, if they wanted more information than the encyclopedia contained, they would look to see which books the library had that would help with their research by using a card catalog.
But, what if you had procrastinated on your research project and the library was closed and it was too late to call your friend who had a set of encyclopedias that their grandparents had bought from a door-to-door salesman. (Encyclopedia salesmen, because back then the only door-to-door salespeople that were women sold cosmetics, would convince grandparents of infant grandchildren that their precious grandbabies would grow up ignorant and unable to get a job in the highly competitive post- World War 2 job market without the knowledge contained in the 28 volume genuine faux leather bound books of knowledge. So, the grandparents would put $1.00 down for these gleaming beauties with gold-edged pages. Then, these loving grandparents would send the encyclopedia publisher fifty cents per week until the grandchildren were teenagers and then the entire set of encyclopedias would be theirs, outright. These books of information were so pricey that only a few houses would have a set.) So, the procrastinating student of yore was stuck with an incomplete project, because there was no way to learn the population of Persia before the paper had to be turned in to their teacher? Not quite.
There was a special number that could be called on the telephone and a person would retrieve the information for our hapless student. The number was 411. Most people used this number as a way to retrieve a phone number or time of day. But 411 operators would also give out basic Civics information like populations, languages spoken, and what type of system of government a country used.
Information has been used by people of power for a very long time. If one person knew more than another person, than the more knowledgeable person would create rules and laws to govern society. As information became more widespread with more children going to school and more grandparents buying encyclopedias, things changed. More people than ever had a roughly equal amount of knowledge. it was no longer enough to know what everyone else did, higher learning became standard and adults sent their children to college in droves.
People now have access to more information than before more quickly than ever before. Now, masters degrees are de rigeur and PhDs are only slightly more prestigious. Most people know at least ten advance degre holders, not including their doctor.
Where am I going with this story? Good question! Maybe I will just keep writing until the end presents itself! I am just joking. Sort of.
The Western Hemisphere is more educated than ever before. YouTube has millions of videos to demonstrate how things work or impart other bits of knowledge. But, with all of this education and knowledge that people need to be powerful and in charge, there is something missing, for the most part, in today’s culture.
The missing piece is understanding which leads to loving. It has been said that people are more compassionate than ever before. The number of businesses with charitable branches and donations has increased. But, does giving money and goods to others increase understanding of one another? No.
Sadly, today, it is too easy to make judgment calls about people who are different. After all, the knowledge is out there and opinions that support yours are plentiful. It’s much better to take the time to get to know people as individuals, rather than learning about a culture, race, religion, or political party and labeling each person you encounter.
There are no perfect all~knowing people alive today. I believe that there’s only One that has ever existed. This month a fair number will celebrate his birthday while others will use the celebration as an excuse to party more, drink more, spend more, eat more, and even fight more. To this second group, I encourage you to drop any preconceived notions and speak with someone from the first group that you already know to find out more information about Who they celebrate and why.
Knowledge and power are not strength. Love is strength. Humility is strength. Kindness is strength. A wise man once wrote, ”And now there remain: faith [abiding trust in God and His promises], hope [confident expectation of eternal salvation], love [unselfish love for others growing out of God’s love for me], these three [the choicest graces]; but the greatest of these is love.“ 1 Corinthians 13:13 AMP https://bible.com/bible/1588/1co.13.13.AMP
Love is the greatest force ever known. It is not an emotion, but a daily action. A person cannot go wrong if they are motivated by unselfish love.
In case you are wondering what this picture has to do with what I wrote., here’s my explanation. It’s important to read all of the story and not judge based on all of the information.
Journey with Monica 
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