Graduation - Part 1

We celebrated another milestone for the Salazar family last night. Nicole graduated from high school. Nicole came into our lives as a foster baby almost 18 years ago. She was a premie, with severe birth problems, but today she graduated as a beautiful, smart and personable young lady with a wonderful future ahead of her. One of my earliest memories of time spent with Nicole will always be firmly planted in the front of my mind. I took on the responsibility of putting Nicole to bed at night, usually by holding her and giving her a bottle. Many nights during her first winter in our home, I would take her downstairs into our living room, turn up the gas logs and enjoy some quiet time as she went to sleep. (sometimes we'd both go to sleep) Many nights I would pray over her. Since she was a foster child, we had no idea how long we would have her, or where she might go. What we did know was that her mother was a 14 year old runaway that was running from the law. We did not know who her father was, and to this day he is unknown. The only person that seemed to care about her was her maternal grandmother who was trying to get custody of her. One night as I was praying for her, I agonized over the fact that Nicole did not have a father. Suddenly it seemed like the Holy Spirit stopped my prayer and whispered in my mind, "you are her father, you have taken responsibility for this baby and you are her father." At this moment I also realized a tremendous sense of God's love for me, Abba Father, "Daddy", embracing us both and helping me realize that God loved us both with an overwhelming love.

18 years later, I truly am Nicole's father. After 18 months of contentious legal manuvering, a Colorado family court decided that none of Nicole's blood relatives had passed a home study. Since she had been with us for so long, we could not put her back in the foster system and we started adoption proceedings. Last night as I watched her walk across the stage to receive her diploma, I breathed a prayer of thanksgiving to our Father, who had allowed me to be her father. Tomorrow I'll relate another story that showed me how much God loves us all.

Scary Moments - Raising Teenagers

Last Saturday night I was talking to my son Sam via our cell phones. Nicole and I were picking him up from a friend's house, but when we arrived at the friend's house, he wasn't there. He was in the middle of telling me that he and his friends were on the way when his voice stopped. At first I thought the call had dropped, but I could hear background noise, and then I heard a teenage girl screaming. She was saying "he's unconscious, he's unconscious, wake up, wake him up". I could also hear Sam in the background saying "where's my phone, I lost my phone". At this point, Sam's phone disconnected. I tried calling him back, and didn't get an answer. While I was trying to call him, a call came in from a number I didn't recognize. The voice mail was Sam, crying, telling me he had lost his phone and to call him back. Then I realized what was going on. Sam and his friends had been in a car accident while I was on the phone with him.

I quickly called him back, made sure he told me he was okay, got his location and we drove as fast as I dared. When we got to the accident scene, the entire 4 lane street was blocked off and there were 2 firetrucks, 3 ambulances and a host of police cars. Sam's friend, the driver, was so wedged into the front seat that the firemen had to cut the top of his classic Camero off. As I stood with Sam and watched, I thanked God that it appeared that everyone was okay. It was a little disconcerting to see all the gurneys they had out. Sam had some minor lacerations on his forehead from windshield glass, but that was about it. It seems weird to me that after seeing how much damage was done to the car, I didn't hear the impact over the phone. What happened was that in mid-sentence, Sam's phone flew out of his hand during the impact and landed under the driver. He could hear me calling his name, but in the immediate confusion he couldn't find his phone.

Several hours later, (all four teenagers were taken by ambulance to the hospital), we left St. John's Emergency room. Cuts were bandaged, x-rays taken, instructions and best wishes given. We called Kathy to tell her we were on the way home. What a blessing to say "we're on the way home." Anything different than that would have had terrible consequences. "Thank you God, for your protection, and love. Where would we be without You?" Sam was shaken, and sore for a couple of days, but he's okay. "Thank you, Lord."

Russell Has Seen Better Days

I have a very funny daughter. One of the funny things about her are her names for everything. Last year when Josh and Kelly left for South Africa, he left his 1992 Honda Prelude for Nicole. She promptly named the car Russell. So instead of referring to "the Honda, or Prelude, or Nicole's car", it is "Russell".

Monday was a sad day. Nicole was turning a corner in a busy intersection and the traffic suddenly came to a sudden stop. Unfortunately, she and Russell didn't stop in time and Russell came to a stop underneath an SUV. As you can see in the picture, Russell didn't do so well. We had hoped that Nicole could drive this car to college next year. She'll be commuting about 20 miles one way to school. But, since Russell is 18 years old, has 234,000 miles on it, plus other health difficulties, we only had liability coverage on him. The SUV had a few paint scrapes. To add injury to insult, Nicole was driving Russell on Wednesday and his hood flew off. Fortunately, it landed on Russell's windshield and not on top of someones car.

So, our 18 year old, almost high school graduate, (I'll be blogging about that in a couple of weeks) gets to trust God for another car. Russell will probably sold for parts and won't bring much money. It will be an interesting time to now put God's promises into action that we and our church have been teaching Nicole all her life. If indeed our God is Jehovah Jireh, what does that mean for an 18 year old making one of life's biggest transitions? We'll see, I'll keep you posted.

Celebrating Cinco de Mayo

Cinco de Mayo is a holiday that commemorates the Mexican army's unlikely victory over French forces at the Battle of Puebla on May 5,1862. While not an "obligatory federal holiday" in Mexico, it is celebrated primarily in the state of Puebla, and in the United States. Cinco de Mayo is not Mexico's Independence Day, which actually is September 16, the most important national patriotic holiday in Mexico. In the United States, many people mistakenly think Cinco de Mayo is Mexico's Indepence Day.

Tomorrow may be a very interesting day in the Southwest. The new Arizona immigration law has stirred up a hornet's nest of opposition. The sad thing to me is that Arizona wouldn't have had to deal with this if the federal government had simply enforced the laws already on the books. As a Hispanic male who faced some prejudice in my teens and early 20s, I find it interesting that Al Sharpton and other non-latino, racial issue, lighting rods are in the Southwest commenting and spreading misinformation. In my opinion, these are uninvited pot stirrers who need to stick to their own issues. Regardless, this is just another opportunity for many to say ugly things, throw rocks and other objects, and make law abiding latinos look bad. Shouts of Si Se Puede, Yes We Can, are so misplaced. Yes We Can what? Believe misinformation? Not find out what is going on for ourselves? Be led around "by the nose" by agitators who's main agenda is agitating?

So how does a Christian, conservative, latino man celebrate Cinco de Mayo? 1) Pray for Arizona and the people who are so divided over the issues. 2) Try and be a conduit in any conversation of correct information. (I believe that the root of the problem here, like in so many volatile issues, is that people do not take the time to really find out what truth is) 3) Pray for a return of civility in this country. 4) Go to my favorite Mexican market for a bowl of menudo.

God's Love In Action

Yesterday I wrote about the escalating meanness in America. I am a full blooded Latino, of Spanish extraction. I am proud of my heritage and proud to be an American citizen. While I don't know anything about my ancestors that immigrated to this country, several generations of Salazars have lived in this country and made positive contributions. I hate the racial overtones that are dominating the situation in Arizona. We have made so many strides forward, I don't want to go back.

In the 1950s there was a migrant worker program in the US called the Bracero program. It actually started in 1947 and ended in 1964. Workers from Mexico, largely agricultural workers, were allowed to come to the US and work for a period of time. I remember going with my grandparents to some of the farms and ranches around San Jose, California to visit with Braceros in the evening. My grandparents shared the Gospel, took clothes and other necessities, and I remember my grandmother talking with some of the ladies, perhaps comforting them because they were away from their children. My grandfather had pioneered a Spanish speaking Assemblies of God church by this time, and other church members joined them on their trips to the Bracero camps. There were not any ulterior motives here, none of them would join the church, they wouldn't contribute any offerings, they wouldn't bring other people into the church, this was ministry, pure ministry.

While this took place over 50 years ago, this is a memory that is vividly etched in my mind. I can still still see the little huts where the Braceros slept. I can almost smell the smoke from the fires that burned in 55 gallon drums for warmth, and I remember my grandfather walking from hut to hut telling the men that we were there and asking them to gather together. The farmers and ranchers welcomed the ministry because they saw the changes that occured in the Braceros lives as they committed themselves to the Lord. Who knows the impact of these changed lives as they went home to their families and communities? What I know, is, that I saw God's love in action. We really need to see more of that today. Oh God, help us to engage the meaness in our country with Your love.

This Is A Mean Time In America

This has really become a mean time in America. People are angry about health care, the Tea Party movement, a new law in Arizona, the rising cost of living, the uncertainty of the future, and the list goes on and on. People are disgusted with all the various levels of government and aren't afraid to voice their opinion. Charges of "racism" are being tossed back and forth and today I heard a call by a national leader for people in Arizona to defy the new law. Wasn't this presidential administration going to be the one to unify us? What happened to "Yes We Can"?

Even Christian leaders are being swept into the chaos. Franklin Graham was "dis invited" from a Pentagon Prayer Breakfast because of some of his comments regarding Muslims. News of the Schuller family squabbles and the near financial collapse of the Crystal Cathedral grab headlines. Where are the Christian voices proclaiming peace, repentance, reconciliation and unity?

I believe that one of the most successful tools in Satan's weapons arsenal is fear. Fear of the future, fear of consequences of misguided policies and legislation, fear of each other. We're hiding behind labels; liberal, conservative, racist, Tea Party member, homophobe...

What is our most powerful weapon? God's love. God's love demonstrated in our lives in such a way that a watching world cannot deny its power. Oh God, help us demonstrate your love and begin to dissolve the meanness in our country.

Social Networking By Age

I saw an interesting chart recently. It showed social network site users by age. Here are the stats:
75% of 18-22 year olds use one or more social networking sites
49% of 23-35 year olds
21% of 36-49
9% of 50-65
3% over 60

I personally use Facebook. I have really enjoyed connecting better with family members, particularly more distant family members, and all the friends and acquaintances from places we have lived and worked around the country. According to this Pew Research chart, I am among 9% of my age group that does this. For me, it seemed pretty natural to launch into social networking because I have always tried to stay up with technology as it has developed at such a rapid pace. I must admit, however, that I don't have a Facebook farm, I don't look for eggs, I'm not a Mafia member, nor any of the other myriad of opportunities that are available. I just enjoy the posts and pictures and all the "catching up." I was thumbing through a college catalog the other day and wondering about taking a computer networking class. I think it might be time to stretch some more...

A Long and Rewarding Day

About 3 times a year I am an assistant supervisor at one of our St. Louis County polling locations. What an assistant supervisor does is to arrive at the polling location by 5 AM and set up all the machines that the voters will use in voting. Yesterday we had 3 touchscreen machines and 3 paper ballot stations with a paper ballot scanner. From 6 AM until 7 PM, my job was to assist each person as they voted. The polling location that I serve is in a very large Methodist retirement center and many of the residents come down to their recreation room and vote. I have come to really enjoy helping these folks, talking with them and hearing some of their life stories. The other end of the spectrum was helping a couple of 18 year olds vote using the touchscreen machine. In both cases, this was their first opportunity to exercise their constitutional privilege of voting.

Unfortunately, our Republican supervisor got sick during the afternoon and had to leave. I stayed later than normal and helped prepare all of the materials and went with the Democrat supervisor to drop everything off. (Elections are very bi-partisan. Everything, and I mean everything, has to be signed off by both a Republican or Democrat worker. This includes the voting stub that everyone gets when they first come in, to the reports that must be assembled at the close of the polls)

So I arrived home at 8 PM, 15 hours after I left in the morning. A long day, but rewarding...rewarding because I had a very small part in a democratic process that insures that the people of this great country get to choose their leaders and vote on issues that come before them. Rewarding because I got to help a lot of seniors vote, and to applaud them for their interest in this process even at their advanced age. They haven't stopped being involved even though they are retired. Rewarding because I saw brand new voters vote for the first time. Young people who are plugging into the system as soon as they can, and will help our country stay the strong nation God has blessed it to be.

He Is Risen! He Is Risen, indeed!

Somewhere in many church service worship schedules today, the song "Because He Lives", by Bill & Gloria Gaither, will be sung. As we closed our early worship service this morning, the strength and hope of the resurrection overwhelmed the uncertainty of the future for me. "...Because I know He holds the future; and life is worth the living just because He lives."

There are times in our lives when several things seem to collide all at once. Periods where almost everything in life is affected. In my case, dealing with raising 3 teenagers, again; the cost of living that has skyrocketed, working through issues at work, health issues that complicate life and the list goes on and on. I know this is part of life, valleys that seem to go on forever without a path to the mountain top. Last night was tough...teenager vs. dad, enough said.

It's too bad the Gaithers didn't live at the time of Christ on earth. The disciples could of used their song. Their future seemed over, they were afraid for their lives. And then came the wonderful news; "He is not here. He was raised, just as he said. Come and look at the place where he was placed." ( Matthew 28, the Message)

For me, those song words triggered the hope of the resurrection this morning in my spirit. Life is worth living because of what Christ did for us. I will find the path to the mountain.

Have a Little Faith

I just finished reading a great little book, Have A Little Faith, by Mitch Albom. If the author's name sounds familiar, you might know him by his best selling book, Tuesdays With Morrie. Have A Little Faith is about the author's relationship with an 82 year old rabbi and a black Detroit pastor-a reformed drug dealer and convict-who preaches to the poor and homeless in a decaying church with a hole in the roof.

The book starts with an unusual request by the rabbi, he wants the author to deliver his eulogy. Feeling unworthy, Albom insists on understanding the man better, which throws him back into a world of faith that he had left years earlier. Moving between their worlds, Christian and Jewish, African-American and white, impoverished and well-to-do, Albom observes how these very different men employ faith similarly in fighting for survival: the older, suburban rabbi embracing it as death approaches; the younger, inner-city pastor relying on it to keep himself and his church afloat.

This book is a great read for the times we are in. Our world faces huge challenges economically, politically and spiritually. I am convinced that as Christians and for myself as a church leader, we must facilitate and resource relationships as a main vehicle for seeing people's lives changed and touched by the power of God. It is great to come together and worship and see the same church family members week after week, but we must do much more than this. We have got to find creative ways to bring people together who desperately need hope for the future and share with them the good news of the Gospel. If you get a chance to read Have A Little Faith, I think you'll know what I'm talking about.

Christmas Past

The 2009 Christmas season is over. Our last guests left today. We had non-stop guests in our home from December 23rd through January 9th. We never had less than 8 people at our table and some meals had 15. Kathy wished she had kept track of how many times our dishwasher ran, usually it was more than once a day. Today, we'll move the last of our indoor Christmas decorations downstairs and next Tuesday I'll pull out all the boxes out, put everything away, and that will be that.

As adults, with adult children, spouses and grandchildren, Christmases take on such a different character. I've reminisced on this blog about childhood Christmas memories. As an adult, however, this time is so different. This year we really missed having our oldest son and his family up for Christmas. Even though all the rest of our children were here, there was a big hole. I loved watching our older children interact with each other, but I missed watching their oldest brother and sister-in-law be part of that process. I really missed being able to watch our grandsons open the presents we gave them. I would have enjoyed putting the Legos together with them.

We had the joy of having Kathy's parents here for Christmas. 4 generations together is a lot of fun. Catching up on life's events, giving and receiving advice, playing games, watching Christmas movies, looking for great Christmas lights, celebrating Communion together, eating some great food, are all memory makers. Regardless of what may come in 2010, God has truly blessed us and for that we are thankful. We are all eternally grateful for a Savior who was born for us, who gave His life to redeem us, and for the love He so freely gives us. It's because of His love that we in turn can love each other. Christmas 2009 was blessed...

New Beginnings

Just a couple of hours until a brand new year. I've been working on a couple of small changes in how I organize my life next year, and I've decided that a few words and phrases I seldom use will become part of my everyday vocabulary. "No", "I'll check and see if I can fit that in my schedule", "I don't think I can do that", and other similar words and phrases are going to help me free up more creative and contemplative time.

This past year I read through the Bible using The Daily Message. I actually used it both in 2008 and 2009.
Tommorrow morning I'll begin reading from the God Sightings One Year Bible. This is a one year program that our senior pastor is suggesting our congregation use in 2010. I am also going to read daily from two books that were gifts. The first is The One Year Christian History, A Daily Glimpse into God's Powerful Work. I've already "fudged" and read the first two days. This is going to be a great read all year. The other daily book that was given to me is A Farmer's Year, Daily Truth to Change Your Life. This daily reading book is written by a South African potato farmer, Angus Buchan. His story is told in a wonderful movie titled Faith Like Potatoes. I'm looking forward to his writing.

On day one, Angus writes "Good farmers know that the worst thing a man can do is look behind him when he is ploughing, because he will not plough a straight furrow. Whatever has happened in your lilfe during the past year, do not look back. There may be things that you have not been able to rectify because the other party is not interested in reconciliation. Leave those things under the blood of the Lamb. Jesus Christ died on the cross of Calvary so that your sins may be forgiven. Make sure you do whatever you can from your side to rectify any undone situation, and then press on." Good advice to start the year.

To summarize, I'm going to eliminate a lot of the busyness in my life, make room for creative thinking and planning and look forward, not backwards. See you in 2010...

The End of Christmas

I love Christmas. I love the preparation, the anticipation, every event, concert, service, dinner and especially our family time. I love the Christmas story and all of the mystery and wonder that it inspires every year. In fact, I have a small collection of manger scenes. This past year I have had 5 manger scenes in my office all year long. During the month of December we have 2 manger scenes downstairs, 8 upstairs and one large one that we didn't set up this year. I even have a small one made out of glass on my bedroom dresser. Each time I look at one it reminds me of the wonder of this season. My oldest son and daughter-in-law gave me 2 manger scenes this year that I will cherish. I might even take one to my office and trade it for one that is there now.

The reality of the end of the season came when I went outside on December 26th and noticed that our neighbors had already undecorated their Christmas tree and it was laying on its side next to their trash can. Now, several days later, some of our neighbors aren't turning their lights on anymore and by the weekend, I will probably unplug my timers and that will be that. This is the sad time of the celebration, the slow finale of a wonderful time. One of my favorite Christmas stories is one titled Christmas Every Day. It's the story of a little girl who is granted her wish that Christmas would come every day of the year. After a while, there are no more turkeys to be had, no more gifts to buy, everyone is cranky and hates Christmas. I wouldn't wish this on anyone, but I do wish there was a way to extend the season and then bring it to an orderly, happy end. Maybe I'll work on that for next year.

For now, I'll enjoy some great gifts that I received, thank God for my family and friends, and concentrate on sharing the truth of Advent with a world that is desperate to know God, even if they don't know it.

Tamales Tomorrow Night

One of our long standing traditions is to have a Mexican food feast on Christmas Eve. Since I normally have had pastoral duties on Christmas Eve, our meal has had to wait until later in the evening. This is a tradition I look forward to every year, and each year we have a different group of guests for dinner that adds to the wonderful celebration of the Christmas season. I recently read a story about tamales, which are a main element of our Christmas Eve dinner.

Carl Fenter was out trying to find tamales on a very cold Christmas Eve morning. He had the bright idea of having a tamale feast after the service, but he didn't think about it until Christmas Eve morning. Who would've guessed that every tamale shop in the city would be sold out the day before Christmas? But they were, as Carl knew. He'd been driving all over El Pasto that morning. Determined to bring home the tamales, Carl tried on last tienda, an old favorite out in Canutillo.

When he arrived, a fresh batch was due off the steamer in forty-five minutes. Taking his place at the end of the snaking line of tamale-seekers, he watched the woman in front of him remove her jacket to drape around her shivering youngster. It wasn't long before she, too, shuddered in the chilly wind. After only a moment's hesitation, Carl shed his own jacket and offered it to the grateful mother. Together they cheered when the line crept forward at last, and smiling people exited the shop toting steamy bags. Finally, Carl got inside the door and inched his way closer to the counter, the woman now first in line.

"Sorry folks," the cleark announced, "that's the last of the tamales." "No way!" Carl groaned with everyone else lined up behind him. "But," stressed the man at the counter, "we'll have a final batch ready in, oh, about two hours." Defeated, Carl backed away, but the young mother grabbed his arm.

"You're leaving?" "I have to," Carl glanced at this watch. "I promised to put up luminarias at my church." "I'll get your order of tamales and bring them to your house." Carl's brow furrowed. "I couldn't ask you to do that." "But it's the least I can do. You lent me your coat." Her smile overrode his objections. "Just give me your address."

And at exactly noon on Christmas Eve, four dozen fragrant tamales-along with Carl's brown jacket-arrived at his home. What a great act of Christmas kindness. Have you had any moments where you could provide Christmas kindness?

Gotta go, my tamales will be ready for pickup at 2:00 PM. Can't keep traditions waiting...

Presence and Accounted For

Here's another story from The Book of Christmas Virtues... Every gift had been wrapped, each recipe prepared, and all the ornaments hung. I had seen to every detail; I knew I hadn't overlooked a thing. And now, with three anxious children tucked in bed at last, I leaned back in my favorite recliner-satisfied-to survey our perfect, shimmering tree.

I admired the packages arranged underneath. Thanks to my early planning and a little extra money this year, Christmas was going to be wonderful. I couldn't wait to see my children's faces when they tore into their presents the next morning, discovering all of the new clothes and great toys I had bought for them. I began a mental accounting of the treasures tucked inside each package: the Dallas Cowboys jacket for Brandon, the Fisher Price castle for Jared, the Victorian dollhouse for Brittany...

Basking in the glow of twinkling lights and my own thoughts, I barely noticed Jared sneak into the room. My normal reaction would be to jump up and rush him back to bed. This time, I chose to sit still and watch, hoping he wouldn't notice me. I needn't have worried.

Jared was a five-year-old with a mission. The glimmering tree illuminated his small figure as he made his way straight to the nativity beneath it. Sinking to his knees, he held out a paper and whispered, "See, Jesus, I drew this picture for you." Not wanting to miss a word, I held my breath and leaned forward. "On the left side, that's me." Jared's finger traced a path across the page. "On the right side, that's you." He pointed. "In the middle is my heart." He smiled sweetly. "I'm giving it to you."

With tenderness, Jared placed the picture beneath the tree. "Merry Christmas, Jesus," he said and scurried back to bed. My throat tightened, and my eyes filled. All the sparkling decorations and all the shiny wrappings in the room suddenly dulled in comparison to Jared's innocent crayon drawing. It took my small child's gift of love to remind me that only Jesus can make Christmas wonderful this year. And he always does.

I Am Especially Fond Of You

During the Christmas season I read a lot of Christmas stories. In fact, I collect them. I love how this season of the year impacts people in so many ways. This week, in addition to all my Christmas readying, I re-read a book that in not a Christmas story, but impacted my life the first time I read it. In fact, I wrote a blog about it a few months ago. The book is The Shack.

This time, the chapter titled A Festival of Friends (#15), really affected me. As chapter 14 closes, the Holy Spirit, named Sarayu, tells Mack (the main character) that "for tonight, I would love you to see a bit of what we see." After she touches him, the author writes, "He turned back to Sarayu, who still stood next to him. Although she was difficult to look at directly, he could now make out symmetry and colors embedded within patterns, as if miniature diamonds, rubies, and sapphires of all colors had been sewn into a garment of light, which moved first in waves and then scattered as particulate." The author goes on to describe all of Creation in terms of light, beautiful light in different hues and intensity. Color that could not be imgined. Creation that is perfect, unspoiled by sin. The author goes on to write, "Mack realized also that he felt no pain, not even in his usually aching joints. In fact, he had never felt this well, this whole. His head was clear and he breathed deeply the scents and aromas of the night and of the sleeping flowers in the garden, many of which had begun to awaken to this celebration. Delirious and delicious joy welled up inside of him and he jumped, floating slowly up into the air; then returned gently to the ground."

What the author was describing was a scene from heaven, where God's perfection extends to mankind and changes everything. The part of this chapter that knocked me for a loop was near the end. The author, William P. Young, writes, "A hush descended. The anticipation was palpable. Suddenly to their right, from out of the darkness emerged Jesus, and pandemonium broke out. (my emphasis) He was dressed in a simple brilliant white garment and wore on his head a simple gold crown, but he was every inch the king of the universe. He walked the path that opened before him in the center-the center of all Creation, the man who is God and the God who is man. Light and color danced and wove a tapestry of love for him to step on. Some were crying out words of love, while others simply stood with hands lifted up. Many of those whose colors were the riches and deepest were lying flat on their face. Everything that had a breath sang out a song of unending love and thankfulness. Tonight the universe was as it was intended."

I wept many times while reading this book, sometimes longing for the kind of relationship with Pappa that the author was describing, and sometimes overjoyed at the scenes being portrayed. I wept at this spot because of the longing to see Jesus like He really is. I want Him to cause pandemonium to break out when I think about our relationship, when I spend time in His Word, when I spend time in prayer. What a wonderful thought, that everytime we met to enjoy His presence, pandemonium would break out!

One last thought from this chapter, and the title of this blog. In the midst of all the pandemonium, all the people worshiping Jesus, and out of everyone that Jesus could have chosen, from a distance He whispers into Mack's ear, "Mack, I am especially fond of you." As I sat on the couch, next to our Christmas tree, enjoying the scene from the book that I was imagining, I think I heard a voice in my mind whisper, "Louie, I am expecially fond of you."

It's More Blessed to Give...

Here is a great story I ran across this year. I hope you enjoy it. (I could not find an author's name)

A friend of mine named Paul received an automobile from his brother as a Christmas present. On Christmas Eve when Paul came out of his office, a street urchin was walking around the shiny new car, admiring it. "Is this your car, Mister?" he asked. Paul nodded. "My brother gave it to me for Christmas." The boy was astounded. "You mean your brother gave it to you and it didn't cost you nothing? Boy, I wish..." He hesitated. Of course Paul knew what he was going to wish for. He was going to wish he had a brother like that. But what the lad said jarred Paul all the way down to his heels. "I wish," the boy went on, "that I could be a brother like that." Paul looked at the boy in astonishment, then impulsively he added, "Would you like to take a ride in my automobile?" "Oh yes, I'd love that."

After a short ride, the boy turned and with his eyes aglow, said, "Mister, would you mind driving in front on my house?" Paul smiled a little. He thought he knew what the lad wanted. He wanted to show his neighbors that he could ride home in a big automobile. But Paul was wrong again. "Will you stop where those two steps are?" the boy asked. He ran up the steps. Then in a little while Paul heard him coming back, but he was not coming fast. He was carrying his little crippled brother. He sat him down on the bottom step, then sort of squeezed up against him and pointed to the car.
"There she is, Buddy, just like I told you upstairs. His brother gave it to him for Christmas and it didn't cost him a cent. And some day I'm gonna give you one just like it... then you can see for yourself all the pretty things in the Christmas windows that I've been trying to tell you about."
Paul got out and lifted the young boy to the front seat of his car. His older brother climbed in beside him and the three of them began a memorable holiday ride.

That Christmas Eve, Paul learned what Jesus meant when he had said, "It's more blessed to give...."

Christmas Kindness

In the Chicken Soup for the Soul book The Book of Christmas Virtues, Marion Smith tells of her experience in Washington, D.C.'s Union Station on a bitterly cold December evening. She sat on a public bench with a steaming cup of coffee, waiting for feeling to return to her fingers. As diners left the American Restaurant, the heavenly aromas tempted her to consider an early dinner. She observed a man seated nearby, and from the longing in his eyes, realized that he, too, noticed the tantalizing food. His gaunt body, wind-chapped hands and tattered clothes nearly shouted, "Homeless, homeless!"

Half expecting him to approach her for a handout, he didn't. While she debated what to do, a well-dressed young couple approached him. "Excuse me, sir," the husband said. "My wife and I just finished eating, and our appetites weren't as big as we thought. We hate to waste good food. Can you put this to use?" He extended a large Styrofoam container. "God bless you both. Merry Christmas," came the grateful reply. Marion was pleased, yet dismayed by her own lack of action. The man scrutinized his new found bounty, rearranged the soup crackers, inspected the club sandwich and stirred the salad dressing-obviously prolonging this miracle meal. Then just before taking the first bite he stopped short. She turned her head to follow his gaze. Entering the hall and shuffling in their direction was a new arrival. Hat less and glove less, an elderly man was clad in lightweight pants, a threadbare jacket and open shoes. His hands were raw, and his face had a bluish tint. Marion gasped aloud at this sad sight, but her needy neighbor leaped up and guided the elderly man to an adjacent seat. He took his icy hands and rubbed them briskly in his own. With a final tenderness, he draped his worn jacket over the older man's shoulders. "Pop, my name's Jack," he said, "and one of God's angels brought me this meal. I just finished eating and hate to waste good food. Can you help me out?"

Marion writes, "It wasn't easy making my way to the food court with tears blurring my vision, but I soon returned with large containers of coffee and a big assortment of pastries. 'Excuse me, gentlemen, but'..."

Oh God, help us to be your hands of compassion in this wonderful season of the year. Help us not to let any opportunities to go by without doing everything we can to show Your love.

The Bar NR

A real keepsake came home with me after visiting with my parents at Thanksgiving. I brought home the cattle brand that my grandfather had made when he bought his first steers and pastured them on his new ranch land. I think I was about 10 years old when he bought 10 acres of land in the San Joaquin Valley of California. The land had 2 sides fenced. I remember spending several days laying out barbed wire fencing, helping to dig fence post holes and stretching wire to secure the fence. I'm sure I was more in the way than anything else, but I hope I helped a little. I remember helping my grandfather build a small pump house with a side room. We stayed in that side room many times while he, (and I) built a barn and then laid out a foundation for a house. He found a house on a nearby military base that needed to be moved. He bought it and had the foundation poured. I still remember the day the house came. I would run out to the intersection every few minutes and look for a house coming down the street. Finally, I saw it off in a distance. I house coming right down the middle of the street. Power lines had been moved and there was a truck in front with flashing lights. This was the most exciting thing I had ever experienced. Finally the house got to our ranch. After a lot of finagling, many "stay back"s from my grandfather, pushing and tugging, the last support came out, the men and their trucks left and the house was sitting on it's new foundation. What an experience.

We had many great times out at that ranch. My grandpa bought a few steers and we went to a shop to have a brand made. He picked the Bar NR as the name for the ranch. His name was Nemias Ruybalid. Just like an old West movie, we heated up the branding iron, walked over to the steer that had been roped into submission, and burned the "Bar NR" into it's hind side. He would raise them, butcher some for meat, and sell others. We went to auctions to both buy and sell. It was a wonderful time for me, and my hero. I learned how to drive my grandfather's F-100 truck out in the pasture, shot his .22, picked asparagus in the canal, helped flood the pasture to irrigate and a tons of other fun things for a kid my age. My grandfather's plan was to retire at age 65 and move from San Jose to the ranch. Wouldn't that have been grand. But, sometimes life doesn't turn out like you think it will. Before he was able to retire he got cancer, and died when I was 15. There are days when I still cry when I think about it. In fact, I'm crying right now as I type this...

I have a spot picked out on my office wall for the Bar NR. I'm going to make a wooden stand for it, clean it up and hang it there, right next to a picture I have of my grandfather's congregation in San Jose. Then every once in a while I'll lean back in my chair, close my eyes and relive some great moments at the Bar NR.

The Tinsel Tree

I love Christmas. Sometimes I wish it could be Christmas every day. I love the traditions, the family time, the special events, the food, the church services, and I love meditating on the Biblical story of Christmas. I really enjoy Christmas lights, candles, decorations and manger scenes. In fact, I collect manger scenes. I have 6 of them in my office all year round. So if you need a gift idea for me...(hint, hint)

I thing I really enjoyed as a child was laying under our Christmas tree and reading a book. Sometimes there would be a fire in the fireplace and the combination of the light from the fire, lights on the tree, the pine fragrance and a good book, were almost too much to take. Even today, that scene is vivid in my mind. Knowing this, you can imagine the shock I felt one day early in December when I got home from school and there was a tinsel tree in our living room. It was decorated with blue balls and it had a multi-colored wheel that rotated around and cast light on the tree from an irritating spotlight. I couldn't believe my eyes! No pine smell, no stranded lights, no ambience... but, I gave it a try. That night I plunked myself down next to the tree with a book. The whiring noise of the multi-colored wheel motor was distracting, the spotlight was too bright, and the lack of pine smell was just too much.

We endured the tinsel tree for a couple more years and finally the motor died, the spotlight melted the color wheel and the tinsel tree went to tinsel tree heaven. It was a wonderful Christmas again when we went back to a natural tree. In this day of technically perfect, pre-lit artificial trees, we still get a natural tree every year. Some have holes we have to hide, some are bent a little, and some droop earlier than they should, but they smell wonderful and look even better. It's just about time to select this year's tree. We always get it in the house and decorated by the second weekend in December. I can't wait...