Some people have favorite super-bowl ads… I have favorite black-Friday ads. The best of which I award to Target. Most of you, I hope, have seen the well-groomed, ultra-prepared, & overly-excited blonde lady as she counts down the days to the biggest shopping day of the year. Here’s my favorite clip… (for those of you who have no clue what I’m talking about AND for those of you who find these commercials as humorous as I do)
I cannot compare to the Target-lady, but I must admit, walking through the parking lot Friday morning (at a respectable 8:30… no, I am not crazy enough to get up early... not even for Target deals) I felt a bit like her. I was pumped… speed-walking through the wet parking-lot… practically racing people to those shiny red doors. Inside, things were still crowded, but everyone was friendly, there were fine folks in every department eager to help, and every line was open. The rush of bargain-hunting adrenalin brought a smile to my face, as did the buggy full of goodies (I got everything on my list! … & then some), the line with no waiting, and, of course, the savings boldly printed on my very long receipt.
At this point, you may be thinking I am a big dork. And that’s ok with me… but as I walked back to my car & drove home, I couldn’t help but think…. THIS is what Advent is supposed to be like! I know “Black Friday” is not the official beginning to the Advent season, but let’s be honest, it is the beginning of most of our Christmas preparations, celebrations & anticipations. And if you stop and think a minute, there are a lot of similarities between Black Friday & Advent. Both are times of waiting, anticipating, seeking, excitement & joy. Even the odd hours of shopping-madness find a parallel in Advent, for Jesus Himself told us that He would return like a thief in the night.
Advent is supposed to be the time we look earnestly for our Savior, seeking His return as we celebrate His birth. Shouldn’t we as Christians be a bit more like the Target lady? Shouldn’t we be training & preparing for His arrival? Shouldn’t we be eagerly awaiting, counting down the days & minutes to Jesus’ return? Shouldn’t we be so pumped to get to see Him that we are practically sprinting just to get a glimpse?
Maybe I am odd for finding theology in Black Friday, but I hope I am like the nice blonde lady when it comes to Jesus. And I hope this Advent finds you with an inexplicable smile on your face, a spring in your step, & maybe even a parachute on your back as you train, seek, and some day see our Lord.
“Be dressed in readiness & keep your lamps alight […] for the Son of Man is coming at an hour that you do not expect.” ~Luke 12: 35-40
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
Christmas Cards
Every year I sit down & attempt to compose a meaningful Christmas card message, with the hopes that someone (or maybe two) will actually read it.
Every year I contemplate not sending said cards as my dear accountant husband calculates the cost of 100+ photos, cards, &, of course, postage.
Every year I try to cut down my list in a vain attempt at reducing this line item in the budget.
And every year I come to the same conclusion… Generally speaking, I do not correspond with 90% of my Christmas card recipients… Many have never even met, or at best, rarely see the Goose… Most have a very special place in my heart & are worth much more than the 87 cents I spend on their annual greeting.
And so, instead of opting out or cutting down, the list grows… New friends are added, old friends remain. Sadly, each year also brings a few deletions of those who have gone home. But the tradition stands… come hell or high water… no matter how much the postal service increases the cost of a measly stamp… even if the Goose refuses to smile for the picture & has the worst hair day ever… the cards must go out… So that you know that you are special to us, even if I am worse-than-terrible at keeping up with 90% of you… at some point in our lives, you made an impression on our hearts… you made the list.
Here’s hoping I can sum all that up in five sentences or less.
Every year I contemplate not sending said cards as my dear accountant husband calculates the cost of 100+ photos, cards, &, of course, postage.
Every year I try to cut down my list in a vain attempt at reducing this line item in the budget.
And every year I come to the same conclusion… Generally speaking, I do not correspond with 90% of my Christmas card recipients… Many have never even met, or at best, rarely see the Goose… Most have a very special place in my heart & are worth much more than the 87 cents I spend on their annual greeting.
And so, instead of opting out or cutting down, the list grows… New friends are added, old friends remain. Sadly, each year also brings a few deletions of those who have gone home. But the tradition stands… come hell or high water… no matter how much the postal service increases the cost of a measly stamp… even if the Goose refuses to smile for the picture & has the worst hair day ever… the cards must go out… So that you know that you are special to us, even if I am worse-than-terrible at keeping up with 90% of you… at some point in our lives, you made an impression on our hearts… you made the list.
Here’s hoping I can sum all that up in five sentences or less.
Monday, November 15, 2010
Transparent
Defn.: having the property of transmitting light without appreciable scattering so that bodies lying beyond are seen clearly
OR
- free from pretense or deceit : FRANK
- easily detected or seen through : OBVIOUS
- readily understood
That’s what I would like to be: transparent. And not just part B of the definition, but the whole thing. Unlike a large portion of our population, I don’t really want to be seen or heard.
Perhaps that seems odd, but it’s true. Sure, I would like to be “free from pretense” & easy to understand, but more than that… I want to “transmit light […] so that bodies lying beyond are seen clearly”. Well, really just one body. If you think about it, isn’t that what all Christians are supposed to be... see-through-light-transmitters?
I want people to look right through me. I want my words to pass right by them… like I’m not even there. I want them to see someone so much greater & hear words that are so much sweeter. I don’t want to get in the way. Don’t look at me. Look through me… see Him… hear Him.
Oh to be like glass… but, being the realist that I am, my goal is to be sort-of like pink plastic wrap… you know, the tinted kind that’s only available during a holiday season. It’s a bit more colorful than regular plastic wrap, so you may not see perfectly through it, but you can definitely still tell what’s underneath that fancy protective covering.
OR
- free from pretense or deceit : FRANK
- easily detected or seen through : OBVIOUS
- readily understood
That’s what I would like to be: transparent. And not just part B of the definition, but the whole thing. Unlike a large portion of our population, I don’t really want to be seen or heard.
Perhaps that seems odd, but it’s true. Sure, I would like to be “free from pretense” & easy to understand, but more than that… I want to “transmit light […] so that bodies lying beyond are seen clearly”. Well, really just one body. If you think about it, isn’t that what all Christians are supposed to be... see-through-light-transmitters?
I want people to look right through me. I want my words to pass right by them… like I’m not even there. I want them to see someone so much greater & hear words that are so much sweeter. I don’t want to get in the way. Don’t look at me. Look through me… see Him… hear Him.
Oh to be like glass… but, being the realist that I am, my goal is to be sort-of like pink plastic wrap… you know, the tinted kind that’s only available during a holiday season. It’s a bit more colorful than regular plastic wrap, so you may not see perfectly through it, but you can definitely still tell what’s underneath that fancy protective covering.
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
Mustache
The goose has her first cold of the season. No big deal… just the usual. Her very runny nose & breathing out of her mouth has made her lips & nose very sore. Again… nothing unusual there. But Sunday, as we sat at the breakfast table, she looked up from her muffin with such a sad, serious face & pitifully sighed, “mommy, my mustache hurts.”
Her daddy replied (after he practically shot juice out of his nose), “your what?!?”
But I, kind soul that I am, understood exactly what she meant… you see, on Sesame Street, Elmo learned what a mustache was… and poor goose just thought it was the part of your body between your nose & lip…. And THAT is what hurt… her mustache.
Admit it. THAT’s funny. Even if it is a little bit sad too. (and yes, we did explain that a mustache is not a body part… I am not that terrible)
Her daddy replied (after he practically shot juice out of his nose), “your what?!?”
But I, kind soul that I am, understood exactly what she meant… you see, on Sesame Street, Elmo learned what a mustache was… and poor goose just thought it was the part of your body between your nose & lip…. And THAT is what hurt… her mustache.
Admit it. THAT’s funny. Even if it is a little bit sad too. (and yes, we did explain that a mustache is not a body part… I am not that terrible)
Thursday, November 4, 2010
Love Story
(& don’t worry, it’s not about me!)
The “L-word” is a bit over-used (& abused) in my opinion. We use the same word to describe our fondness for a tv show, coffee & shoes as we do our deep affection for our family & friends. But true love, not the sappy chic-flick kind of love, but the real deal… love that never fails… I see most clearly in the wrinkled faces of Granny & Grandan.
They’ve been worried for weeks about the date of their anniversary... afraid that at 94 & 95 they might forget to remember to that special day. One day the goose & I dropped by to find Granny shuffling through old papers, trying to find the date of their wedding written amongst her list of birthdates. Grandan, who is usually sleeping, was wide awake & the happiest to see us I think he’s ever been.
He wanted someone to tell them (again) when their anniversary was (though Granny denied not knowing). Once reminded, all was right in their world again, & Grandan fell promptly back to sleep.
When the big day arrived, Granny and Grandan were settled in the den while their helper was working in the kitchen when she heard a strange sound… Grandan was singing. As she puts it “I runned in there because I thought somebody’d flipped out!” But to her surprise, there sat the 94 year-old man singing to his 95 year-old bride, and I quote… “she was just a grinnin’!” He couldn’t remember all of the words, but here is what he tried to sing:
On the farmhouse veranda,
There sat Silas and Miranda,
Thinking of the days gone by.
Said he "Dearie, don't be weary,
You were always bright and cheery,
But a tear, dear, dims your eye.
Said she "They're tears of gladness,
Silas, they're not tears of sadness,
It is fifty years today since we were wed.
Then the old man's dim eyes brightened,
And his stern old hear, it lightened,
As he turned to her and said:
Put on your old grey bonnet
With the blue ribbon on it,
While I hitch old Dobbin to the shay,
And through the fields of clover,
We'll drive to Dover,
On our golden wedding day.
I was in the same old bonnet,
With the same blue ribbon on it,
In the old shay, by his side,
That he drove her up to Dover,
Through the same old fields of clover
To become his happy bride.
The birds were sweetly singing
And the same old bells were ringing,
As they passed the quaint old church where they wed,
And that night when the stars were gleaming,
The old couple lay a-dreaming,
Dreaming of the words he said:
Put on your old grey bonnet
With the blue ribbon on it,
While I hitch old Dobbin to the shay,
And through the fields of clover,
We'll drive to Dover,
On our golden wedding day.
I recounted this story to my husband (as he tried to go to sleep that night) & I asked him, who NEVER EVER sings (Seriously, I have never heard him so much as hum a tune), if he would sing to me when we are old. He chuckled & replied, “I’ll sing to you ... after I’ve flipped out.” Well, as long as we get to flip out together, I guess that’s ok. I’ll wait…. Because that’s love.
The “L-word” is a bit over-used (& abused) in my opinion. We use the same word to describe our fondness for a tv show, coffee & shoes as we do our deep affection for our family & friends. But true love, not the sappy chic-flick kind of love, but the real deal… love that never fails… I see most clearly in the wrinkled faces of Granny & Grandan.
They’ve been worried for weeks about the date of their anniversary... afraid that at 94 & 95 they might forget to remember to that special day. One day the goose & I dropped by to find Granny shuffling through old papers, trying to find the date of their wedding written amongst her list of birthdates. Grandan, who is usually sleeping, was wide awake & the happiest to see us I think he’s ever been.
He wanted someone to tell them (again) when their anniversary was (though Granny denied not knowing). Once reminded, all was right in their world again, & Grandan fell promptly back to sleep.
When the big day arrived, Granny and Grandan were settled in the den while their helper was working in the kitchen when she heard a strange sound… Grandan was singing. As she puts it “I runned in there because I thought somebody’d flipped out!” But to her surprise, there sat the 94 year-old man singing to his 95 year-old bride, and I quote… “she was just a grinnin’!” He couldn’t remember all of the words, but here is what he tried to sing:
On the farmhouse veranda,
There sat Silas and Miranda,
Thinking of the days gone by.
Said he "Dearie, don't be weary,
You were always bright and cheery,
But a tear, dear, dims your eye.
Said she "They're tears of gladness,
Silas, they're not tears of sadness,
It is fifty years today since we were wed.
Then the old man's dim eyes brightened,
And his stern old hear, it lightened,
As he turned to her and said:
Put on your old grey bonnet
With the blue ribbon on it,
While I hitch old Dobbin to the shay,
And through the fields of clover,
We'll drive to Dover,
On our golden wedding day.
I was in the same old bonnet,
With the same blue ribbon on it,
In the old shay, by his side,
That he drove her up to Dover,
Through the same old fields of clover
To become his happy bride.
The birds were sweetly singing
And the same old bells were ringing,
As they passed the quaint old church where they wed,
And that night when the stars were gleaming,
The old couple lay a-dreaming,
Dreaming of the words he said:
Put on your old grey bonnet
With the blue ribbon on it,
While I hitch old Dobbin to the shay,
And through the fields of clover,
We'll drive to Dover,
On our golden wedding day.
I recounted this story to my husband (as he tried to go to sleep that night) & I asked him, who NEVER EVER sings (Seriously, I have never heard him so much as hum a tune), if he would sing to me when we are old. He chuckled & replied, “I’ll sing to you ... after I’ve flipped out.” Well, as long as we get to flip out together, I guess that’s ok. I’ll wait…. Because that’s love.
Monday, November 1, 2010
Fall Flashback... October
As promised, here are a few photo highlights from October... Fall took it's time coming, but we are finally under 80 degrees and loving it! Despite the warm October days, the goose enjoyed a visit to the pumpkin patch & buzzing around the neighborhood in search of tons of treats...
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