Joy to the world, the Lord is come
Let earth receive her King
Let every heart prepare Him room
And Heaven and nature sing
And Heaven and nature sing
Let earth receive her King
Let every heart prepare Him room
Joy to the world, the Lord is come
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Today’s gift! Merry Christmas to all!
Note: What do you do with photos of swans on an icy pond in Massachusetts in December, four days before Christmas? Write some swan haiku to illustrate some of them, of course. They’re poems of questionable quality, no doubt, but I had fun.
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White mounds, plush, cushy
Cotton candy piled on ice
Downy warm pillows
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Seven swimming swans
Then nine, nineteen … and … twenty
Swany come lately
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Walking on water
Not the ONE we celebrate
Just a swan on ice
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Heads are down! Butts up!
Up is down. Down is keeping
This lunch seeker warm.
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Brawking, kakawking
Long necked, avian opera stars
Singing their swan song
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It was a seemingly impossible job. Eventually it had to be done and today was as good a time as any. The weather wasn’t conducive what with it being 26 degrees outside and a light layer of snow covering the leaves that needed raking. But, we had the people and the time and the rakes.
Here’s how it went…
An impossible job requires breaking the job up into possible pieces. Which we did. 
We split up the tools – rakes, tarp and tractor. We assigned the jobs, small chunks that we took care of one at a time.
So today, on this frosty morning, grandkids, grandpa, sister and brother-in-law raked, mowed and then delivered a yard-full of mostly oak leaves to a growing pile in the front ready to be picked up.
There you have it.
Job finished!
Today’s gift…
… until the the next windy day.
It was a short walk this morning. It wasn’t too early. Even though the sun had been up for a time, the day started out dim. It was cold, windy, gray. The clouds hung low, dark and puffy, the rain had been rung out overnight.
Thanksgiving Day comes at the tail end of autumn. The leaves are mostly off the trees, leaving bare skeletons of trunks and branches, resting for a season until reviving again in spring. The flashy maples have already shed their load of leaves. It’s only the pesky oaks that are hanging on to their thick, brown leaves, thwarting the neighborhood leaf-rakers trying to close the books on their fall cleanup.
Overnight the wind whipped through the leaf cluttered oaks, bringing to mind waves on the bay. So my goal on this morning’s walk was to find some waves. The ten minute walk took me along a leaf strewn path into the teeth of a brisk wind. Down at the beach, lots of water, no crashing waves, more gray, summer put away for the season.
Today is Thanksgiving Day. I took a walk in the cold morning grayness. In spite of the gloom around me I thought about what there is for which I have to be thankful. Then, later, at church, I was reminded that the God to whom I pray my thanks is faithful, compassionate and sovereign. Today’s gift. Praise God from whom all blessings flow.
Yesterday there was a new moon.
Well, not brand never-existed-before new. Just a phase
You just can’t see it when it’s new. So,
It’s the same moon
Nothing has changed.
A new moon rises in the east with the sun
It sets in the west with the sun
When the moon is new you can’t see this dance, but
It’s the same moon.
Nothing has changed.
When the moon is new, the far side is illuminated
The near side is not, it’s dark, waiting for the light. Yet,
When the moon is new, you just can’t see it. No light. However,
It’s the same moon
Nothing has changed.
That’s how it is with life sometimes
The familiar, the precious, the things relied on
For a time seem to disappear. Out of sight. Remember
It’s all the same
Nothing has changed.
Next week the moon will not be new, but
Waxing, crescent, growing again
Beautiful again
It’s the same moon, always and forever
Nothing changed.
Faced with a long, empty afternoon I decided to take my camera for a walk. The wind whipping around my house this afternoon, convinced me that ‘thar be waves out there,’ at Lake Michigan, that is. So, off I went in search of the big waves.
But what if the waves were disappointingly flat? Then what? As I drove to the lake, I noticed an interesting mix of clouds and blue sky. So, no waves, no problem. Thar be clouds! Not only that, the fall colors are creeping farther and farther south. I thought, “Thar be colors!” So I challenged myself to come back with 10 pictures that I like – waves, clouds and/or colors.
I drove on! As I did, the clouds thickened to a nondescript gray and hid the blue sky. With the fading clear sky, the sunlight dimmed and the sporadic splotches of fall color gradually lost their brilliance. Hmmm…. I revised my self-challenge. Maybe thar be five pictures worthy of keeping?
So here are the five… I like them. I thought I’d share this afternoon’s waves, clouds and colors. Today’s gift.
These two pictures don’t count. They just provide some meteorological context.
These are the five…
Today’s gift… I’m getting ahead of myself, so I better back up a bit, since you are not aware of this yet. All of this came about after… after a nice breakfast with nice friends, after my morning workout and after rainy drive home. Here’s what happened.
There was a message for me from Shari when I got home. She needed my help. It wasn’t a desperate kind of need, like can you fix my car or the roof is leaking. Nothing like that. Her need emerged from an idea. It came out of a brainstorm for a little something she wanted to do with and for her kids.
You see, tragically, about three years ago, Shari’s husband Kevin lost his life in an automobile accident. One day a husband, a father, a friend, a teacher and the next in heaven with Jesus. So, for the last three years on or about Kevin’s birthday (next Friday) Shari comes up with something that will help the kids, Katelyn, Jared and Lucas, remember something special about their dad. It has become an annual event.
That’s where the need comes into the story. Perhaps you didn’t know this, but Kevin’ was a geocacher! Without going into a lot of details, in geocaching, people hide a box of cheap trinkets, perhaps in the woods or in a park. They note the latitude and longitude on their GPS then post the coordinates on the Geocaching website. Other people get the coordinates from the website, enter them into their GPS and go out and try to find it. They can log their find at the website, but mostly it’s just fun to be out looking for tacky trinket treasure.
Yes, Kevin was a cacher. His caching handle was ‘kev12kev!’ Like most things in which Kevin was involved – family, church, teaching – Kevin was passionate about geocaching. That’s why Shari called. She wondered if I could help her and the kids set up a geocache of their own, a kind of memorial to a much missed husband and father. I was honored to be asked.
So, tomorrow afternoon I’ll load up the geo-gear and head to some wooded park and help Shari and Kate and Jared and Lucas hide a box. It will be a box full of memories of Kevin, hidden perhaps under a log, but more importantly good memories hidden in their hearts. A gift indeed. The gift of remembering… Today’s gift.
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Also:
Okay, this is going to seem a little strange. You don’t have to read any farther or you can just stop at anytime, if you feel a little squeamish. Your choice. Here goes…
This summer, there was a two week span when…
Wait, first… You know when, at your house, you might look up and notice spider webs! Yes, sometimes you see those hanging, silky strings laden with dust and stuff that have become visible in the sunlight. Ugh! Grab the dust mop! Knock those things down! Get rid of them – BEFORE the cleaning lady comes! There’s no cleaning lady at my house, but nonetheless, they have to get gone!
So, anyway, there was this two week span when I noticed a spider web…
Now, I have nothing against spiders. Granted, I’m not a big fan of bugs, spiders or other creeping things crawling on me. They have their place, I have mine. However, there’s no arachnophobia here. Most, if not all, the spiders I’ve encountered are smaller than a quarter. I’ve never been bitten, and in my youth, I’ve been known to step on a few. I’m way bigger! No fear!
Now, I noticed a spider web, not up in the corner by the ceiling, but down in the corner where the floor meets the wall, next to the toilet. Not only did I notice a web, but in it there lived the occupant of the web, no bigger than an eraser on a pencil. It was just sitting there where the floor meets the wall, yes, next to the toilet, of all places. Strange place, you might say. True, but what does a spider know about location, location, location?
So, at that point, not quite ready to get the dust mop, I let the beast be. I wondered about it’s little square inch or two of ecosystem there on my bathroom floor. How does it survive in such limited space? What food comes it’s way and gets caught in the web? What kind of spider? Carnivore, herbivore, bothivore? Life span? Hmmm…? Interestingly, when I came back later the thing was still there. For about two weeks it just hung around in the same spot. I watched and wondered. Then, it was gone!
The mystery to me isn’t where did the little spider go? But, rather, how do tiny critters like that survive in the web of life in which they find themselves? What purpose does that small creature have in the grand scheme of God’s creation?
Oh! Let me tell you about this. This summer, for about a two week stretch, I noticed a flower, occupying its square inch of the crack next to the foundation of my house…
Hmmmm…. I guess there are a lot of things occupying square inches about which I can watch and wonder. I’ll keep my eyes open. I’ll try to remember the One to whom all of our square inches belong.
Abraham Kuyper, a Dutch theologian, had something to say about square inches and such, although, I don’t think he had spiders on his mind. He said, “There is not a square inch in the whole’ domain of our human existence over which Christ, who is Sovereign over all, does not cry, Mine!”
So there you have it, something to think about… spiders and pansies and square inches … and … the One to whom it all belongs… today’s gift.
This week we’ve been visiting my son and his family on the west coast. When Sunday comes around we go to church. So, we did, again. I’ve been in their church often enough that some people might recognize me and might be willing to at least say ‘Hi’ to this stranger. Some churches are better at welcoming than others. And this church, like many, have a ‘meet-n-greet’ segment built right into the service! It’s where people turn around or walk around to greet people, mostly the ones they were chatting with a few minutes before, prior to the service starting.
Anyway, during the ‘meet-n-greet’ the guy in front of us turns around, shakes, my hand, doesn’t get my name, but gets my relationship with my son who is standing next to me. He says with quick grin and a nod at my son, “So you’re the one responsible for how he turned out.”
“Um, yeh, uh, mmblmmbed…” I’m not always quick with expected humorous return quip, I guess.
Now, don’t get me wrong here. I’m proud of the way my son, and my daughter as well, ‘turned out.’ I couldn’t be more pleased at how they and their spouses are ‘training their children in the way they should go.’ I beam with pride anytime I can talk about their accomplishments. But responsible? For how they turned out?
I know, I know. The guy was just kidding around, trying to find something light, something welcoming to say to me the stranger in their midst. It was not meant to be replied to with some profound statement of admission or denial of responsibility. He wasn’t looking for secrets from the past. He wasn’t probing for insights that finally provided a glimmer of understanding about the questions people always wanted to know about my son and why he is the way he is… wink, wink. I know all that. It just got me to thinking, perhaps more than I ought, for the rest of the service.
That day it was Pentecost Sunday. A remembering, a celebration of the pouring out of the Holy Spirit on the church and his work in the church. The songs sung, the sermon preached all revolved around the theme of the Trinity – God the Father, Son and Spirit. It was refreshing and good to be reminded of the ways God works in our lives, in the church.
And in our families, too. “So,” the guy says to me, “You’re the one responsible…” Well, actually, I had responsibilities to be sure. For some reason, known only to the Spirit, we were all put in this place, at this time, with these people and given work to do; Kingdom – Holy Spirit directed, empowered, motivated, inspired, in-spite-of-our-feeble-efforts, whether we feel like it or not – Work.
Responsible? Me? Not really. Now that I’ve had time to think about it, I know that the heavy lifting has been work done completely by the Spirit. All of the leading, guiding, prodding, disciplining, sanctifying work has been and will continue to be Spirit work.
Pentecost. As the song says, “This is the day … that the Spirit came.” The Spirit at work in my family and yours is today’s gift!
I’m zipping through Montana on the Empire Builder, heading for a long-awaited visit with the kids and grandkids. All around me are a variety of people from all over, heading who-knows-where. I take that back. There are tags above the seats indicating the person’s destination, but that’s about all there is to know about these folks.
When riding on the train it’s pretty easy to remain anonymous. Nobody’s wearing name tags after all. Wait, I take that back. The Amtrak staff all have them. Including the lounge car attendant, Tom.
Now Tom isn’t shy about sharing his name. When he comes on the intercom, he announces, “This is Tom from the lounge car…” So there I was, in the lounge car, picking up a snack or two and I noticed his last name on his name tag. The ‘Vander’ jumped out at me and I thought, “Ja! A Dutchman!”
I come from a long line of Dutch folks. I live an area that crawling with Hollanders. As a matter of fact one of my people’s favorite pastimes is Dutch BINGO.
This is how it happens. Two Dutch people strike up a conversation and one comment leads to another and the two people find out they are related. BINGO!
For example… As it often does, the small West Michigan town of Borculo, predominantly peopled by Dutch folks, comes up in casual conversation.
“Borculo? I use to drive through Borculo,” you say.
“My cousin’s friend’s neighbor lived in town,” says your friend.
“Really?” you say. “The Essenbergs lived there on the main drag.”
“I went to college with an Essenberg.”
“Calvin College?”
“Yes! What dorm? …” and on an on until you figure out that you are somehow way-back related and attended the same family Christmas parties when you were kids!
That, my friend, is Dutch BINGO.
You can imagine my excitement when I read the name VanderVelde on Tom’s name tag. It’s rare indeed to find genuine Hollanders out here in the real world. So, on my next trip down to the lounge car … yep, you guessed it, I played the Amtrak version of Dutch BINGO.
Well, it turns out that Tom and I attended the same 4th of July picnics when we were kids! His aunt and my aunt were both aunts living just blocks apart in, you guessed it, Borculo! Where, I discovered, he spent several summers, while his parents provided entertainment on a Dutch cruise line. And where I cruised the streets on my bike trying to impress the Essenberg sisters. We laughed when we discovered we were in the same dorm at, you guessed it, Calvin College! Imagine that!
And imagine this. All it took to spin this t-a-l-l tale was a name on a nametag and a l-o-o-o-o-n-g train ride to the west coast. Today’s gift? Maybe… 😉
Walk as Children of Light 