Christmas Memories 

Sometimes Christmas memories take on the form of arguments. 
As the year I heard my eight year old daughter, Krysta, singing,

"Souvenirs  souvenirs!

  It's Christmas time in the city!" 

 

Her older sister, Deanne, was quick to point out the error. 

"It is not souvenirs.  It's silver bells!"  Deanne explained. 
 

Krysta was irked.  "It sounds like souvenirs to me!"

Listening to them, I was transported back to fifth grade in
Williams, MN.  Mrs. Johnson, our music teacher, put together
a beautiful Christmas concert.  We carried candles, walked up
the aisle of the gymnasium, and sang Silent Night. 
I remember trying to hit the minor notes in What Child Is This?
and the tinkling sound of Silver Bells.

Deanne looked up the lyrics for Silver Bells. 
As I read the words I thought of sixth grade at Williams. 
The concert the year before had caused a stir in the community. 
Some people objected to the hymns we sang.  In sixth grade we had
a pantomime featuring Mr. and Mrs. Santa Claus. 
No Christmas carols allowed . . .

And the debate continues . . .
to wish others a Merry Christmas . . . or not.

We hear about those who believe there should be no mention of
Christmas at all.  Christmas vacation isn't Christmas vacation . . 
it is the winter break.  Some want to throw Santa Claus and
the nativity scene into one bag and pitch the whole kit and
caboodle out the window. 

A commercialized Christmas is ironic.  There's the story of a couple
who drove past a church and noticed a nativity scene on the lawn. 
"Just look at that!"  she sputtered. 
"Now the church thinks they're going to get in on Christmas, too."

Thoughts of Jesus bring conflict. 
The Bible says,
"He was in the world, and the world

was made by him, and the world knew him not. 
He came unto his own, and his own
received him not."  John 1:10,11 

It stretches our minds to think of the Creator of the universe
lying in a manger.

Mrs. Johnson taught us the timeless beauty of old Christmas carols. 
This is a memory that can't be erased. 
Can you hear the angels singing? 
Can you see the shepherds dashing to Bethlehem? 
They found the stable and the animals. 
Joseph and Mary and baby Jesus were there
just like the angels said. 

We can be comforted this year when we sing Christmas
carols and tell our children the story of Jesus. 
He was willing to come to a world full of strife.

 

Book Mobile

Every now and then when I'm driving around on errands
the name of a book will come back to me from long ago childhood.
That happened to me this fall.

Taste of Spruce Gum . . .

The Taste of Sprucegum . . .
it doesn't matter -
that's enough to go on.

I don't remember the author or the name of the main character.  
I just know it is about a little girl.  I can still see the art work
in the book.  I stop in at the library in our town and ask the
kind librarian if it's still available.

It is - but if it wasn't she could have looked further and requested
it from a neighboring library system.  She requested it for me as
I rattled on about reading it a long time ago  when we used to
go to the book mobile.  She thought the book sounded delightful
and mourned with me that wonderful old books are being
weeded out of the library.

 On those long ago summer days when the book mobile was coming
we hurried and scurried to wash the dishes
and make the beds
and weed four rows of carrots in the garden
 (I'm just kidding)
then piled in our car and drove to Graceton.

The book mobile was parked in front of the little store/post office.
It was like an over sized bread truck or ice cream truck.
Gravel crunched under our feet as Mom and four daughters lined up
at the door.  There was a step stool at the door.  Step up - then a couple
more steps and we were in a book lined haven.

I don't know why I remember that book above many others. 
The author is Jacqueline Jackson and even though I reread it in October
I am sad to say the little girl's name slips from my memory again.
But that's just me.  People in my family accuse me of speed reading all
the time.  It's probably true.  When I finish a book many times I want to
start back at the beginning and read it again . . . a sure sign that a lot was
missed on the way through the first time.

Maybe the story stuck with me because it is set in a logging camp.
My dad was a logger in the wintertime when we lived up north.
We have lots of family memories of picnics in the woods,
heating water and food over many a camp fire,
and helping Dad during our spring break.

What books . . .
      or libraries where you found the books
                   do you remember from long ago?


 ____________________________________________________________

When our plans change

Ellis got two hunting trips to MT this year.  He was tickled to hear about
a new law that lets people who once-upon-a-time lived and hunted in MT
go back and hunt without paying expensive out of state license fees. 
The first trip was the end of October.  He went out by train.  But the main
reason he went to MT was to go to an auction sale.

A high school friend was planning an estate sale with his brothers
and Ellis found out.  These two haven't seen each other for 30+ years. 
That was a great reunion even tho it was a busy day for his friend and they
didn't get to do much more than get started on catching up.

And all of this is back ground info to let you know why I was planning
to drive to the train station in the twin cities on a cloudy, damp day near the
end of October.

The train comes in around 7:00 A.M. if it is on time.  I was going to leave
at 4:00 A.M. to avoid rush hour traffic.  Then I got an e-mail notice the
evening before saying the train was late by about two hours.  Ellis was
already on the way to Williston with his brother and sis-in-law. 

"We could have kept on hunting for a couple more hours!" That was the
first reaction to the news.  Now they had plenty of time to go eat and linger
at the station with loooong North Dakota good-byes.  Ellis got on the train
at 12:30 A.M.  The train was now five and a half hours late.

There was no sense leaving at four in the morning.  I got on the way
by seven, called Amtrak and heard the newest update.  The eta was
1:45 P.M.  I stopped to talk to the bus manager to see if there was anyone
to cover my bus route that afternoon . . .  and there was. 

Next stopped at Dad and Mom's place for a cup of tea and to chat with
Mom and Krysta.  Krysta stayed overnight at Grandpa's so she could get
to school.  As it turned out she could have stayed at home and I could have
driven her to school.  Dad came home from driving bus.  I knitted,
Mom quilted on Deanne's Log Cabin Quilt and Dad drew me a map
of a back way to drive to the cities to avoid all the traffic
and road construction of I 35. 

All of the delays reminded Dad of another time and another place. 
A long long time ago Dad and a friend were driving home from
Bible School.  There was a snow storm - a heavy, wet snow that piled up
and stopped the snow plows and stopped the traffic.  Before they knew it
Dad and his friend were in a long line of cars that were not going anywhere. 
There they sat.  For hours.

This was long before common ordinary people had car phones. 
No cell phones.  No computers.
No communication between Dad and his family. 
We were in WI waiting for Dad to arrive. 
I must admit I have no memory of waiting without knowing
what in the world had happened.  All of the adults in the household
let us play and put us to bed and fed us our meals.  It was a happy
three ring circus for all of us scalawags. 
Not so much for the adults.

I have come to the conclusion we are spoiled -- completely spoiled. 
The little things that make our days easy hadn't been invented back then.   

As an adult I have been in little situations like this where I didn't know
where in the world Ellis was - for about an hour or so. 
And then he returns or calls and there is great relief. 

This delay with the late train was like a picnic in the park with bright
sunshine and good food compared to being stuck in a snow bank with
no way to communicate and let loved ones know, "I'm okay!"

I could call Ellis any time I wanted.  We could compare notes on how
the day was going.  It wasn't going quite like we had planned but we
were able to stay in touch. 

I suppose I had the best end of the deal.  I could drive to Perkins,*
order a bite to eat, enjoy my soup and sandwich, and either read or knit. 

On the other hand, Ellis could sleep, read, go to the dining car for the
complimentary meal, work on Sudoku and visit with the neighbors if he
felt like it.  Not so bad either.

The train eventually arrived shortly after 4:00 P.M.
Dad and his friend eventually got plowed out and
continued on the way home.
Happy, happy reunions!

This was another time to remember that verse: 
In everything give thanks:
for this is the will of God
in Christ Jesus concerning you.
I Thessalonians 5:18






*At Perkins I can recommend the tomato basil soup
       and the hot beef sandwich with cheese
            on sour dough bread.
          And the wild berry pie. 
I got the pie in a box to take with me.

after surgery

We were so grateful to learn that Evan's spinal cord was not severed. 
It was badly bruised, though.  The surgeon answered our questions one
by one.  Yes, he has seen people walk again after an injury like this. 
And he has seen those who don't walk after an injury like this. 

It depends on time and therapy.

And God.

The week at Duluth was amazing.  It was awesome to see how God works
in our lives - how He helps us in the middle of trauma.  We were extremely
grateful for the care given to all of us at the hospital.

-- all the thoughts and prayers, visits, flowers, etc. given by family and friends.

-- the network of family and friends on Facebook and caring bridge . . .

My favorite quote by one of Evan's co-workers --
"I'm praying for you and I don't even pray."

We felt buoyed up
        above all the trouble
                   by those prayers.

Now -- a year later we are still waiting.
We still need those prayers.

- - - - - - - - - - -
Evan and Chelsea transferred to Rochester MN in time for Thanksgiving.
A Thanksgiving Holiday in the middle of trouble . . .

That reminds me of Corrie ten Boom and her sister, Betsy. 
They were in prison for helping Jews during World War II.
In their sleeping quarters they found bunks
 - triple high -
with straw mattresses
thin blankets
and fleas. 

Corrie and Betsy decided to follow the verse in I Thessalonians 5:18.
In every thing give thanks:
for this is the will of God
in Christ Jesus concerning you.

Betsy started the list.
   - the Bible they held in their hands
   - they were together. 
   - the crowds of women who would hear the Bible being read.
   - the fleas

But when Betsy started thanking God for the fleas Corrie thought,
"This is a mistake.  There is no way I can be thankful for fleas."

Corrie eventually found out they had complete freedom
     to hold prayer meetings
              and times of Bible reading
                    because of the fleas.
The officers wouldn't step inside the bunk room
      since the place was crawling with fleas.

This has always been one of my favorite stories.
It is one thing to read a favorite story.
Quite another to experience hard times in my life --
 or watch a loved one go through extreme difficulties.

Waiting

11-12-13 

(It is so much fun to write this date

which now turns out to be yesterday

since I didn't get this posted

when I wanted to.)

 

They that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength;

       they shall mount up with wings as eagles;

               they shall run, and not be weary;

                  they shall walk, and not faint.

                                  Isaiah 40:31

 

 

How many times has this song been sung?

Countless times!

It ends as a prayer . . . 

  Teach me, Lord,

  Teach me, Lord,

       to wait.

 

 

 One day I was typing my e-mail address which has the word blue in it.  

My fingers missed the letters and typed blur instead.

That reminds me of my days.  They pass in a blur.

 

Not that evening . . .  time seemed to have stopped as we watched
the helicopter fly into the night. We finished up the paper work at the
hospital and gathered up Evan's boots.  Drove back to Nashwauk
and on to the cabin where we tumbled our stuff into suitcases,
hauled them to the car then stopped in at Jerry and Trenda's place to
pick up Krysta.  Jerry was on the phone talking to my aunt and uncle
who live in Duluth.

 

It seemed to take a long time to decide - who would stay? 
who would go with us?   At last Jeremy and Liz, Chelsea and Krysta,
Ellis and I were on the way.  Since we had to drive a couple hours and it
had taken so long to get started I think we all expected to be able to talk
to the doctor right away and see Evan right away and find out what

what was going on right away.

 

It was not like that at all.  Hospitals have a different time zone. 
My aunt and uncle were there to welcome us.  A chaplain came to the
waiting room and sat with us.  She prayed with us.  She rounded up blankets
and pillows for us and showed us how

the couches could be lengthened into beds. 

 

And still we waited and waited and waited.  At last we could see Evan
and talk to him.  They were starting to give him pain meds but he was
still in a lot of pain.  He had been through all sorts of tests. 
They were going to do surgery first thing in the morning.

 

I have to say this hospital was amazing.  Every morning a psalm was read
over the intercom.  Everyone was kind and helped in the most awesome ways.

 

My aunt and uncle were amazing.  They opened their home to us. 
We took turns, some of us staying with Evan and Chelsea and some of us
going to Dave and Leah's place.

 

A person never knows when a time of waiting will come --
just like this evening.  I was waiting for Ellis to get done with the brake job
he was doing on the van.  Now he is waiting for me
to get done with this post.

 

On that day of surgery we found out --

There is only so much coffee a person can drink when you are waiting.

Only so much you can stand to read . . .   only so many places to walk.

Sleep -- you can try to sleep the hours away. 

         Text your family and friends. 

But everyone else is having an ordinary work day. 

They are busy while our day is standing still. 

 

We found out we could draw strength from our Lord

      as we waited on Him.

 

 

  

 

Broken

November 11, 2013

One year ago today our son fell out of a tree stand
when he was hunting in the north woods.


This year (11-11-13) we woke up to snow and icy roads. 
After driving Krysta to school Ellis and I arrived at Hog Slat. 
The store truck had snow piled on it so Ellis started it to warm up
and melt off.  Next we had to deal with a tire on the car that was leaking air. 
After that Ellis discovered  the windshield had cracked in the store truck. 

Cold snow, glass and warm air meet.
We found out not one but two tires are worn out and need to be replaced. 
Such a disgruntled feeling went through me - 
I was crying in this broken world
where tires go flat
and glass and backs
and hearts break.

I remembered that evening a year ago.
There is a check list of things / events we are thankful for.
I went down the list again.  When Evan fell his phone
stayed in his pocket instead of flying off and gone somewhere.
He didn't lose consciousness; he could start txting for help right away.
We had poor reception but the call for help came thro.

Ellis, Chelsea and I had no car, so we ran out to the road and
started calling people who did.  Jeremy and Liz called the ambulance.
We  called Jerry and Trenda.  Jerry drove to the cabin to give us a ride.
John and Ladina headed out to the woods to unlock the gate.  We got
to the road and turned in only to find the ambulance  ready to
turn around because they thought they were on the wrong road. 

No no!  we will show you the way - follow us.  So we drove down
a bumpy road in the dark with those ambulance lights flashing all around. 
We pointed the way at a bend of the road where the police directed everyone
to park except the emergency vehicles.  Ellis and Chelsea flew out of the car
and ran.  I got untangled from the seat belt  and started after them,
clutching my cell phone.  I thought of Deanne
as I was running and praying.


Sometimes this is the way life is.
Crying out to God. 
Calling family and friends.
Running and stumbling over deep ruts in the road . . .
Dodging broken branches.  
Darkness
The only light very faint coming from the stars shining overhead.
All the time thinking, "This is just a bad dream.
Soon I'll wake up and everything will be okay."


But I rounded the corner and saw it wasn't a dream. 
An ambulance sat in that clearing.  Strong men were lifting Evan.
The stretcher slid safely into the back of the ambulance.
Chelsea was sitting in the front with the driver.
We followed and drove to Hibbing.
There we found Evan still awake and making everyone laugh.
There was a mistake on the paper work and someone asked him
if he was 31.  He was very emphatic,  "No, I'm not 31.  I'm 25."

We arrived just in time to find out Evan would be airlifted to
Duluth.  Went outside and watched as they "used a shoe horn"
to fit him in the helicopter 'cause he is soo tall.  Clung to each
other as they lifted off and prayed together  huddled in that tight
group with the cold wind whipping around us. 


Today I thought of this verse from Psalms 51. 
The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit:
    a broken and a contrite heart,
                      O God,
            Thou wilt not despise.

Knitting

Sorry pals . . .

I have been knitting.

Dish cloths and slippers. 

Started a scarf 

but even though

I was careful as could be

 a mistake stares at me. 

Now the dilemma. 

Should I rip it out

and start over

or ignore it

and go on? 

Don't worry. 

I will be back.