Since I not making money from printing the words, hopefully I’m not violating a copyright. Writing this on the 61 occasion of my wedding day, December 28, 1961, the marriage song from Fiddler on the Roof seems appropriate.

Sunrise, sunset
Sunrise, sunset
Swiftly fly the years
One season following another
Laden with happiness and tears

This week of the year always reminds me of a constant of life – change. That variance can be as simple as night falling and a new day coming or as momentous as a toddler pulling up next to a coffee table and then letting go to be transformed into a walker. In three more days, hands will lift to tear off Saturday, December 31, and we will have to pay attention to using 2023 as the final number on checks and contracts. Across the country, all have faced THE BIG FREEZE: in most places the temperature was a detriment to plants and, in some cases to lives. People who thought it was safe to travel again have ended up away from home, and worse, separated maybe forever from their suitcases. In the flow, almost without being noticed, December 21 heralded the Winter Solstice, the sun slowly moving toward the northern hemisphere beginning the line saying one season following another.

Laden is a very poetic word to provide an antonym choice of emotional provision. By definition laden means weighed down or even burdened. The tears I understand; however, can you imagine being burdened with having to face so much happiness. A good symbol is the one for yin/yang, curved and joined, offering balance between competing forces. Looking at what has been, the comment on the days has been true. Some memories are pulled out when I need a reminder of sheer joy. A few others need to go in a box with a tight lid. The new year coming up seems to stretch out with the vastness of 365 days. I face them with words to another song I cherish and you may have to look them up, the hymn “Day by Day.” Or, as a five year old friend says, “You go with what you get and you don’t throw a fit.”

From the rising of the sun to the place where it sets, the name of the LORD is to be praised. The LORD is exalted over all the nations, his glory above the heavens. who stoops down to look on the heavens and the earth?

Psalm 113:3

This is the fourth year I’ve spun words around not just Christmas as the world knows it . The Thursday before four Sundays named Advent in the liturgical year, I’ve tried to define how December opens again for me a familiar foundation for the rest of the year to build on. Some years I’ve written about decorations and what they mean or don’t mean to me, about those words that are used in various order of hope, peace, joy, love. I’ve remembered music that has colored special times. I’ve regretted that even with the softness of candles filling dark corners light is not the focus of one Sunday.

The words for this year have no choice but to be personal. I had to put the whole month of December on hold after eye surgery. Thankfully, the procedure went well. I did not have the dailiness of readings because the term blur was more than descriptive. That and appearance hindered going to choir or church. I’m not driving and have had to accept with humility what help was offered in love. For the first two weeks, bending at the waist was not allowed and all decorations are stored in the bottom of chest. Just now, though, are some of the demanding restrictions being lifted and I am lately entering celebration. Along the way, moments counted.

How did the moments come? Hooray for living in a technical age! Each Sunday I have been almost more a part of a service than when seated behind a tall youth and craning my neck to see around the broad shoulders. Church families with children I teach light a candle for each week and carry that light into the world at the service’s end, and little faces and voices seemed close and clear. Video cameras panned the choir. The music surrounded me and I could also see faces of fellow choir members filled with the the blessing of that message. My private drivers took me to hear a high school choir at the Fine Arts Museum and to marvel over a collection of creches in a nearby church. Best of all, I can re-enter the group that was virtual and will be able to be a part of Christmas Eve with music and that special story and finally the lighting of the Christ Candle. Mystery means influencing the course of events by using supernatural forces. When the whole congregation, each holding a candle, spills out on the church steps to sing Silent Night, the mystery of the moment becomes foundational reality, and I join Mary after journeys, angels, and shepherds.

But Mary kept all these things in her heart and thought about them often.

Luke 2:19

A grammatical moment. If you had been so fortunate as to have had me for English you would have memorized the FANBOYS, those conjunctions that tie complete ideas together. The most commonly used is and. In Luke 1, and starts 41 sentences. We move through Luke’s reason for writing, to Zacharias’s words from God, to the annunciation to Mary, to a visit to Elizabeth, to the Magnificat, to the birth of John the Baptist, to the final word that the child John grew and lived in the desert.

Then then is a long skip with no details, just the pronouncement to begin Chapter 2: “and it came to pass in those days,” From undoctorial research, no definite proof exists that these officials sent out such a decree or how it went to “the whole world. ” Yet – use of another important conjunction,-this was the tie that moved prophecy to fulfillment. The child who will be the Son of God will be born in Bethlehem. That’s not where the mother-to-be is at this moment. Spend some time thinking of your family getting ready for a journey. Packing up, Joseph gathering tools he might need, Mary’s mother offering advice about preparing for a birth, and probably a week long trip of 90 miles. Anything you want to know about food or accommodations along the way has to wait for a Bible class in heaven.

Getting to Bethlehem seemed to create more problems culminating with Luke 2:6 , “and so it was.” The final complete ideas are put together, tumbling into an amazing story drawing in stars, shepherds, angels, songs of wonder, and viewing a new-born on a bed of straw. Our choir sang Christus Paradox which moves through a series of unlike ideas that are drawn together in what this babe became. Lamb and Shepherd. Peacemaker and sword bringer. Gift and cost. Everlasting instant. Through the coming twelve days, continue your way to Christmas, paying attention to the ands that direct the way.

²⁶ And in the sixth month the angel Gabriel was sent from God unto a city of Galilee, named Nazareth,

2 And it came to pass in those days, that there went out a decree from Caesar Augustus that all the world should be taxed.

⁶ And so it was, that, while they were there, 

That stole blogs is on the loose and wasn’t letting the publish this morning. However UPS had promised ot help. One always hopes the cavalry arrives on time.

I’m writing this the Saturday before the 2nd Sunday of Advent because my life is being slowed down next week with eye surgery. A problem will be corrected, yet the viewing of the week will be a blur. The blur is a little like the evolving of a celebration for the long awaited coming of the child Jesus. I did some very casual research and how the day is marked has had components added and taken away and, by the early Puritans, almost totally ignored. I’m just throwing out some ideas and you make what works for you to affirm, inspire, or remind.

First, I am not sure that those who longed and waited for the coming of God to step into history really thought of His coming as a baby in spite of Isaiah and those defining names. Even when a mature Jesus preached and healed around Nazareth he was just a local boy, Mark 6:3 “Isn’t this the carpenter, the son of Mary?” After crucifiction and resurrection, anticipation was for the 2nd coming. Another chance to get it right.

Secular and sacred began blending over the years. My most interesting enlightenment was that from Babylonian times until 1752, various countries began a new year on the spring equinox, March 25. Annunciation or Lady Day was March 25 in the church. After that it made sense for Christmas to be December 25. Advent used to run to Epiphany or the coming of the Wise Men with Jesus’s baptism leading into Lent. Changes came in the form of trees and gifts and posadas in the Latin countries. The most liturgical moment of my childhood was attending Christmas Eve at the Episcopal church which involved a processional with candles! I lived without Advent until my mid-thirties. My daddy carved a straight wooden piece with four holes as a candle holder for our children. Was a circle too difficult? The choices still vary with colors of the candles and the name and order designating each Sunday. This night I’m writing, ads are proclaiming Only 21 Days until Christmas. What have you chosen to lead you in hope, joy, love, peace to that day when the moment of waiting turns to arrival.

And so it was, that, while they were there, the days were accomplished that she should be delivered. And she brought forth her firstborn son, and wrapped him in swaddling clothes, and laid him in a manger; because there was no room for them in the inn.

Luke 2:6 – 7

Some of you who are squeamish may have already assumed this one is not for you. It’s your lost. Since I am the one who writes, I am the one who gets to choose and I am not ready to leave Thanksgiving yet. This is how the title ties in. My daddy taught animal husbandry and I know odd facts not necessarily discussed in the general public. The cows he raised had four parts to their stomachs. Instead of chewing food thirty times like your mother taught you, they have a system of chewing, bringing up, chewing again, until finally it completes the cycle that gives the most nourishment from what is given.

That’s how Thanksgiving was for me this year. I was suffitted with traveling demands, change in schedule, an abundance of relatives and their love, and, of course, a variety of food. Throw in a piñanta and a group picture of 51 in a barn and the not able to digest level was reached. The trip home required focus on navigated through intense rain showers. Home had a list waiting that was demanding my attention.

So, it wasn’t until I received the file of pictures that middle son sent out that I could pull out moments and really cherish each. I have come to the ranch for most Thanksgivings since 1963 and some of those present were part of the original gathering. The first year had only 15 of us and this one was the chance to see how branches of the family tree had grown new twigs. I attached names to the great-greats that I did not have sorted out and which ones belonged to whom. One picture was an early morning coffee with me and a niece up early to tend turkey #1 even as her mother had through so many years, Her grown up son, my son, and I stuffed non-candy in the yellow bird piñata they took to hang at the barn. I got to greet one group who came from Chicago and hold a 9 month old who came to me cheerfully before he entered the main house and noise. Relatives and fringers who were related to someone organized food and set up tables on an extended porch. We wouldn’t have had that amazing all together picture if a sister of an in-law hadn’t been a professional. What had been a overstuffed feeling eased as remembering each bite of an overwhelming day helped the whole be a thankful time to be savored and nourished to meet the need to belong and to celebrate.

God sets the lonely in families. Psalm 68:6

The choice of the second word was deliberate. Not a casual comment of “Hey, you,” to that unknown character chewing gum and walking away without a backward glance. This is a request to a person of noble statue who has been taught two magic words, please and thank you. The behest is made to each of us and how the duo is received and offered tinges our whole day. The national thanksgiving of this week is for gifts of intangibles like survival and friendship and for tangibles like food and shelter.

To deepen my feeling of how “thank you” colors a situation, I went back and looked at two examples. One is a thank you I never gave. I asked a couple to stand in a situation where I really needed help. The moment (well it was more than a moment) passed, and I got caught up in something else, and then I really felt awkward coming back to the incident, and then I lost the contact. In this lifetime, they may have moved on, and I am left standing in a well-deserved mud hole. On the other hand, I have offered an action that required, if not sacrifice, but commitment on my part only to never receive a response. In one case, I stewed and fumed and almost prompted, “Was my offering helpful?” each time we met. I still wonder if what I did was worthwhile. The shoe was on the other foot.

So, this became more personal than I planned and more scattered than a national syndicate will want to pick up and publish. Yet, I looked at the faces your e-mails represent and wanted to say “thank you” for letting me invade your space. I wandered aimlessly in Kroger at 9:00 this morning and one of the stockers said, “Can I help you find something? Let me show you.” No way could I dash on without a smile and “Thank you,” before he turned away. The coming up weeks will be filled with giving and taking, both because it is someone’s job or just someone’s place in life for now. As days unfold, note how footsteps are made easier for you or you can ease the way for others. Note times someone steps up to help and when you are called to do the same. James reminds us that all gifts have an ultimate source. We still have to ask with “Please” and receive with “Thank you.”

 Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above,

James 1:17

More than just death and taxes are certain. Comments after elections are always rampant. Some are how well the process was handled this year while on the other hand probes must be made into “allegations (not proven facts yet) of improprieties ( missed standards stated or expected) in the way elections were conducted.” This was a word for word quote from the Houston Chronicle. I did some Wikipedia type research and a review of my memories and can state that unequivocally no election has been without fraud since Roman times, my earliest starting date. One site even listed eleven ways that unscrupulous citizens, or even aliens for that matter, could mess up the hope of validity. Because voting involves numbers, mathematicians have a field day dealing with totals, and age groups, and absentee against on site, and that not to be argued with proof of ratios and percentages.

Consider personal experience. This year you may have been am eighteen year old able with a bit of pride to cast your first vote. I have a variety of experiences under my belt. The earliest was sitting on a counter next to my daddy who inked an eraser on an unsharpened pencil and marked a paper ballot. Some years I’ve had to sign my name under a voter registration list and other years they just looked me up in a book and put a tic next to my name and recently my driver’s license was my proof of identity. I voted with a mail-in ballot one year and followed the directions to sign my name where it crossed the seal of the envelope, so no one could open and change my choices. I have stood behind a machine and had to move buttons and a yellow knob to go through a long process before check and submit. This year I needed help to understand feeding a sheet of paper through a voting machine and then taking it to be scanned and printed before handing it in. I have visited with friends at a local church while waiting to vote and have also been one in a long line at a municipal center. I missed the years where voting was a stating your choice in a loud voice while someone else wrote it down, so in each case mentioned, my vote was my private opinion.

Two caveats as I wrap up. I do respected the frustration of those whose right to vote was made difficult or impossible this year because of non-validation of themselves or non-availability of a voting site. As a woman, I am aware that offering that right to have a say in government was a long journey even in a democracy. And, I offer utmost respect to those paid and otherwise who moved machinery, set up sites to be used in the most effective and efficient manner, and stood their post all day to answer questions and encourage as needed. Once again, I cast my one vote – the only voice I have. I voted against a few candidates while not feeling strongly about the one I did choose. For some slots, I definitely wanted that one with the box checked. The next day, my candidate won, In some cases, my candidate lost. Across the slate, may each of us have wisdom and commitment to respect how our individuality makes for a stronger community. The verse is true in a variety of situations that require the power of one.

Choose you this day. Joshua 24:14

Basics can get the point across. “Supper’s on!” ” Let’s paint the bedroom.” “Nice picture. Put it on the fridge.” An article in the paper reminded me that to be memorable, a distinctive appellation adds that pizzazz to capture your attention. You may not know that Benjamin Moore’s choice of color for the year is “Raspberry Blush.” A song written in its honor can be found on Spotify. Neither by name nor hue does that attract me. Being in a room that color would lead to an itchy feeling. It calls to a mind the face of a high chair child feeding itself a red treat. The reason for choosing says it is time “to take a step out of the comfort zone.” One does have other choices. “October Mist” a gentle sage green. “Wenge” charcoal gray, and my favorite, “Cinnnamon” which is , of course, rust. In the end you’ll probably say, “Come see the dining room. We painted it a dull blue.”

Morning in the kitchen can get by with , “One scrambled egg with no runny whites.” Or DMS looking at a waiter and saying, “A hamburger well done. BURN IT!” Check out the blog on “Captivating menu descriptions” from the handheld menu to the over 100 selections of names for home food delivery. Younger eaters now like the words locally grown in the presentations along with healthy, naturally. Why else do you eat? Quoting my favorite suggestion: “Grandma’s Sunday gravy. A secret sauce with San Mazano tomatoes and fresh oregano simmered for eight hours and poured over homemade spaghetti.” She either cooked Saturday night or missed church for a mid-afternoon meal.

I did not go to the Metropolitan in New York to brag I had seen Untitled No. 47. I have read that even well known artists use that term to keep the viewer from pre-deciding what the artwork can mean to them. I don’t want that responsibility. Even little hints like Figure Study and Landscape Sketch # 273 point me in the right direction. Classic artists always named the work. When the name is mentioned you see Mona Lisa and Whistler’s Mother. A pause of thankfulness comes to mind standing in front of The Angleus. Even though he wasn’t painting from life, Dali brings a moment of reality to the crucifixion in his Christ of St. John on the Cross. Simplicity counts, even vagueness lends direction, yet at times the right specific word exalts.

 She will give birth to a son, and you are to give him the name Jesus, because he will save his people from their sins.”

Matthew 1:21

Conversation lags. Avoid arguments, yet stir up some interest. Try dropping this sentence in the air, “How many beds have you bought in your life?” Then lean back, fold your hands on your lap and listen. One couple of you fair readers tried a water bed. The tale is that the wife filled it in the bedroom while the husband crawled under the house to be sure the floor wasn’t buckling under the weight. A daughter had a queen size bed delivered to a second story bedroom by way of a crane over a balcony. Men at either end would never have been able to make the curve around a narrow stairwell without being permanently stuck. My history has been a double that I still have from childhood to a king down to a queen and now I have moved to another room and a single for two reasons. It is easier to make up and I don’t have to worry about wearing out sheets on just one side.

Which leads to everything else needed to make that mattress useful. The inclusive term is bedclothes or bed linens, if you’re more picky, that are used over the mattress for hygiene, warmth, and maybe decoration. My mother was white all cotton, line-dry, press the top fold if necessary. I leaned toward wrinkle free colors, but didn’t go far enough to have all match through the bedspread and extra pillows. We had a crocheted bedspread that my husband’s grandmother made for each grandson which looked like the love it represented. However, toes around a sheet went through the loops when one turned over. For awhile it was put in a chair at night and folded at the foot of the bed in the daytime. I don’t know when it became no more. My mother-in-if law had monograms on sheets and pillowcases. Part of naming our daughter Sarah was because she felt monograms looked more impressive with the same letter on either side of the married name. Hers was HSH.

Whatever the term for a now generation is, they are seeking to do away with the top sheet in place of a duvet which, of course, needs a cover over the mundane down or polyester base. WSJ had a article on how and why this is necessary. Maybe the arching necessities are more simple. To have a clean bed is always a treat. To come back to your own bed after a trip says home at last.

In peace I will both lie down and sleep; for you alone, O LORD, make me dwell in safety.

Psalm 4:8