Happy Jesus' Birthday -- Today and Everyday

This really happened.

Maybe not on exactly this day or with these particular animals present.

It is unlikely that the garments worn were this pristine. Nor do we know who arrived exactly when or in what numbers.

What we do know is that this really happened. A Jewish baby was born sometime during the reign of the Roman emperor Caesar Augustus. He grew up and was crucified sometime during the reign of Tiberius Caesar.

He claimed to be the son of God; more, he claimed to be God. He said a person's response to this claim would determine that person's future for all eternity.

As C.S. Lewis put it, "I am trying here to prevent anyone saying the really foolish thing that people often say about Him: "I'm ready to accept Jesus as a great moral teacher, but I don't accept His claim to be God." That is the one thing we must not say. A man who said the sort of things Jesus said would not be a great moral teacher. He would either be a lunatic--on a level with the man who says he is a poached egg--or else he would be the Devil of Hell. You must make your choice. Either this man was, and is, the Son of God: or else a madman or something worse. You can shut Him up for a fool, you can spit at Him and kill Him as a demon; or you can fall at His feet and call Him Lord and God. But let us not come with any patronizing nonsense about His being a great human teacher. He has not left that open to us. He did not intend to." (Mere Christianity, 1952)

Some people argue Lewis's logic.

Their arguments tend to hinge on the question of whether anything outside this natural world can be proved to exist -- proved using the scientific method, that is. One group has even offered a "million dollar challenge" to anyone who thinks he or she can prove any kind of supernatural occurrence. The parameters and protocols are set by the group.

The logic here escapes me. Isn't this a bit like using a microscope to study a galaxy -- only magnified exponentially. The galaxy, after all, exists within the same realm as the objects studied by the microscope. Still, the analogy seems valid. To study another existence, surely we would need tools from that existence.

All I can say is, I know what I was before I said "Thy will, not mine," and I know what I am now. I know where my thoughts and plans and motivations were leading me. . . and I know where His thoughts and plans and motivations have brought me. Someone today looking at me from the outside may see only the imperfections yet to be sanded away and not notice anything of what has already been done because they have no frame of reference of what I was before. I was dead. Now I am alive. That is a supernatural act, one which cannot be proved by the protocols of the scientific method.

All I can say is, this really happened. It happened for me. It happened for you. It happened for each and every one of us -- whether we believe it or not.

God rest ye merry, gentlemen -- and gentlewomen and boys and girls in all places, in all times.

Get On With It!

OK -- here's the deal.

I had planned to write entries about our walk in the woods, the Great Christmas Camp Out, and First Night. All on January 2. Didn't get any of it done. Now these unwritten entries lie lodged in my brain, accusing me of overlooking them, and holding other, more necessary word tasks hostage.

So I'm giving in and meeting their demands.

Pics from hike in the wood are posted below:

Left: This condo tent features two roomy sleeping areas, walk-in closets with shelves, and skylight ceilings for real sleeping under the stars.

The Great Christmas Camp Out at Lakewood Retreat was a blast! Trying to sleep while shivering fully clothed in a sleeping bag in a tent at 33 degrees gives one new appreciation for modern comforts . . . and is good for the soul, as well. LR's game room is as much fun as it ever was, and we introduced grandkids to roller ball. They have a new disc golf course, a human foosball area (!), and playing teenaged ninja air hockey brings new dimension to the game. The lake is mostly dry, but we took a night walk--thank you, Jeremy--onto the lake bed to see the stars. Roasting hot dogs and marshmallows over a campfire beats any gourmet meal in any fancy, schmancy restaurant.

Not many pics 'cause my camera battery died, I had forgotten to recharge the other one, and neglected to bring my charger. I'm slipping . . .

New Year's Eve we broke tradition. Instead of falling asleep on the couch while watching some dumb old movie, we went to St. Petersburg's First Night celebration. Well done! We listened to a ragtime piano historian/performer, jazz combo, string quartet, opera selections, surfin' USA music, and more. Plus fireworks at midnight -- all for a very reasonable fee and no alcohol.

Now can I get back to work?

White Socks & New Beginnings

Some years ago, my husband -- whose favorite Christmas decoration is the Bah! HumBUG -- answered the question "What do you want for Christmas?" with "Nothing. If you have to get me something, get me something I can use -- something like white socks."

As I recall, there was more to his response. A bit of a rant, actually, about people buying stupid things that are more about what they think the recipients ought to like rather than what the recipients actually might like and about all the junk we end up with as a result.

If I remember correctly, his sons and I each took his comments to heart. He got a lot of white socks that year. Along with other items that we thought he ought to like.

One of our sons has made that a tradition, every Christmas since giving each of us a six-pack of white socks along with various other goodies.

I've come to look forward each January to pulling on a pair of just-out-of-the-pack, unworn, unstretched, not-yet-dingy white socks. Something about sheathing my calloused, buniony feet in fresh cushy cotton signifies a new beginning. New paths to walk, new trails to hike, new places to explore.

And don't we do that as a nation, too?

Every four years we pull a new fresh administration over 200-some years of walking together as a people.

But -- even if it lasts eight years instead of four, this administration will give way to another one, just as full of hopes and ideals and dreams. We know this administration will wear out eventually, just as the one before it did.

The elastic is going to lose its stretch and the tops will sag around our ankles. Thin spots will appear where our toes and heels have rubbed against our sneakers. Sweat and other stains will dull the pristine white.

For the moment, however, there is change.

There are new socks for new beginnings.

Happy Holy-Days, All Y'all!

Jesus' birthday is obviously something to crow about -- that was Lee's comment as he unloaded his kiln and put these ceramic roosters in about the only available spot.

I had just finished packing up 50 -- count 'em! -- pots that had been sitting on the living room floor and shelves and there are still more to be packed away. My husband is one of those 'out of sight, out of mind' people, so things tend to stay out until there's no more room.

Not that I'm much better, mind you. But it was getting hard to walk around. And I wanted to put up our Nativity scene and, and, and.

We also put up a Christmas tree this year. First time in a long while. Too busy. No kids at home. No room. What's the point? But, inspiration struck. (Three guesses from where.)

So this is our tree this year. Pottery by Lee. Stained glass star by Pamela J.

Happy Birthday, Jesus! A great miracle did, indeed, happen back in the days of Judah Maccabee. Celebrate!