Merry Christmas from the Timmons'

Sarah, Asher, Elias, Tina, Katherine, & Brent, October 2011

Nothing but a Child

Several years ago we found the book "The Christmas Miracle of Jonathan Toomey". It's an awesome story of healing and new beginnings. The story was made into a movie, also great. We watched the video again today, and this Steve Earle song in the movie was irresistible. We highly recommend the book as a gift.

Steve Earle

Nothing but a Child

Once upon a time in a far off land
Wise men saw a sign and set out across the sand
Songs of praise to sing, they traveled day and night
Precious gifts to bring, guided by the light
They chased a brand new star, ever towards the west
Across the mountains far, but when it came to rest
They scarce believed their eyes, they'd come so many miles
And the miracle they prized was nothing but a child

Nothing but a child could wash these tears away
Or guide a weary world into the light of day
And nothing but a child could help erase these miles
So once again we all can be children for awhile

Now all around the world, in every little town
Everyday is heard a precious little sound
And every mother kind and every father proud
Looks down in awe to find another chance allowed

Casting Crowns - I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day

Casting Crowns

Here is another Christmas song, recorded in a contemporary style by Casting Crowns, which has become one of my favorites.

Click here to listen to "I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day".
Here's a live version, which sounds almost as good as the studio version.

I failed to recognize (until my all-knowing mother pointed it out) that this is an old, old song.  I actually have it on a cd which I had made from a Fred Waring and the Pennsylvanians Christmas record.  According to Wikipedia, ""I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day" is a Christmas carol based on the 1864 poem "Christmas Bells" by American poet Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.  The song tells of the narrator's despair, upon hearing Christmas bells, that "there is no peace on earth... for hate is strong and mocks the song of peace on earth, goodwill to men". The carol concludes with the bells bestowing renewed hope for mankind."  For additional background into the poem, see this article by Tom Stewart.

Well, we know Who holds that hope.  Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night.

I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day

by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

I heard the bells on Christmas day
Their old familiar carols play,
And wild and sweet the words repeat
Of peace on earth, good will to men.

And thought how, as the day had come,
The belfries of all Christendom
Had rolled along the unbroken song
Of peace on earth, good will to men.

Till ringing, singing on its way
The world revolved from night to day,
A voice, a chime, a chant sublime
Of peace on earth, good will to men.

And in despair I bowed my head
“There is no peace on earth,” I said,
“For hate is strong and mocks the song
Of peace on earth, good will to men.”

Then pealed the bells more loud and deep:
“God is not dead, nor doth He sleep;
The wrong shall fail, the right prevail
With peace on earth, good will to men.”

Then from each black, accursed mouth
The cannon thundered in the South,
And with the sound the carols drowned
Of peace on earth, good will to men.

It was as if an earthquake rent
The hearth-stones of a continent,
And made forlorn, the households born
Of peace on earth, good will to men.

Todd Agnew - No Room

Todd Agnew

Found this song a couple of years ago.  It has become one of my favorite contemporary Christmas songs.  Has a great clarinet part that we are going to get Katherine to learn.

I would give my right arm for his voice.

Click here to listen to "No Room".

The Giver

Our youngest daughter had just finished reading a book which she was assigned over the summer by her school.  Her older sister had also read it two years ago in English class.  A small discussion about the book had ensued.  Neither girl liked the story very much, and both were frustrated with the ending.  I pointed out that the intent was not necessarily to entertain the reader, but to expose them to some specific form of writing or ideas.  This suggestion landed with a thud.  My curiosity was high.  There was no other option but to read the book myself.

It didn’t take long before I understood the girl’s discomfort with the story.  The society being described was extreme, with bizarre ideas carried to the nth degree.  In an attempt to create the perfect world, almost all personal choice had been eliminated.  A plan for daily life had been carefully laid out, and everyone was expected to follow it, without question.

Immediately I began to wonder what the author was poking at.  Perhaps she had in mind religion, or a political party.  Surely it was one of those books some parents would find objectionable.  Eventually I speculated her gripe may have been with anyone who attempted to make groups of people think in the same, unquestioning way.

The story revolves around a twelve year old boy who is about to be assigned his life’s work.  One of the peculiar practices of the society is for a group of elders to choose this work for each member in the year they turn twelve.  After that assignment, the child starts a season of training.

It is revealed that the young boy has been chosen for the role of “Receiver of Memories”.  This is the most honored role in the community, and the most difficult.  It had been decided long ago that memories were often painful and therefore counterproductive.  The society concluded that it would be better for members not to be burdened with such things.  But along with the removal of memories came with the loss of wisdom.

They did recognize that on occasion, memories served a purpose, specifically in decision making.  Without memories of the past, the wisdom gained from experience was not available.  This was where the Receiver of Memories stepped in.   Memories were transferred to this person, and when his wisdom was required, he would be called upon to give counsel.

The boy begins his training as the new Receiver of Memories under the tutelage of the current Receiver, an old bearded man aged beyond his years.  The more the boy learns of his assignment, the more uncomfortable he becomes with it.  The training is grueling.  It requires the current Receiver, who becomes known as the Giver, to “give” the memories to the boy.  The boy gradually begins to question the whole concept of Receiver of Memories, and as he voices this to the old man, he too begins to confide in the boy that the system is a poor one.

The two discuss the tragedy that has taken place in this society.  So much has been given up – choice, emotion, even love, all for the sake of the supposed good of the whole.  It has been a heartbreaking experiment.  Much has been lost, and much must be recovered. The question is how to change it. 

At this point in the reading of the book I sensed something else going on.  It was as if The Lord wanted to show me something through this story - not about the story itself, but about my own heart.  As I read, as much as I often mistrust feelings, I could feel something building. 

The Lord seemed to want to address my own heart through the character of this young boy.  As the story unfolds, the boy and the old man begin to plan how to remedy the error this society has made.  The solution, not surprisingly, involves a sacrifice.  The boy must leave the community at the risk of losing his own life.  If he succeeds, and gets far enough away, the memories the people have lost will be returned to them.  They will go through a period of great stress, but the old man will remain to help them work through it.  The fate of the boy is a question that can’t quite be answered on this side of the plan. 

In these pages, I saw an issue in my heart concerning my own selfish ambition.  It may sound benign, and did in fact appear that way to me prior to this, but The Lord began to speak to my heart about my desire for self-fulfillment.  What can possibly be wrong with the desire for self-fulfillment?  Just one thing – the word self. 

As I read about the selfless act of this twelve year old boy, I couldn’t help but think of Jesus.  I was reminded quite clearly that self-fulfillment was not the way of Christ.  He did not come to fulfill His own desires.  He came to put aside His desires for a greater purpose, and that purpose was to re-connect us with The Father.  At the cross, He laid down His fellowship with The Father. 

My desire for self-fulfillment was not Christ-like at all.  I hesitate to even use the words, but in a sense, those desires are ANTI-Christ.  They are against, the opposite of, and in place of Christ.  They are not of Him.  It was a quick and startling revelation.

Does this mean we must live in a constant state of introspection, brooding over our need to abandon our own ambitions?  Of course not.  Take a look at Christ.  While He laid down his life for us, we would all agree that He was doing exactly what He really desired to do - down to His core.  It is a difficult paradox to comprehend.  He was fulfilled in the sacrifice of His own life.

What this does mean is that when we are bumbling along, and the picture in our mind of what “fulfillment” is all about goes awry, The Lord will be faithful to show us Christ.  It may come from the most unlikely sources, at the most unexpected times.  As He does this work, our “self-fulfillment” will look more and more like Christ laying down His life for the benefit of those around him.  And that will become our fulfillment.  It will be what we desire at our very core.  He becomes, through us, The Giver.

First appeared in the August, 2011 edition of the Manna. http://readthemanna.org

Ties

This is a Hallmark tie, titled "First Snow."  It was a gift from my wife and kids a few years ago.  The tie tack was my grandfather's.  It's the only tie tack I own.  There is no need for another.

 

Some men have impeccable taste.  And then there are the men who understand what makes a great tie.

Best Christmas Decorations EVER

We have our very own Charlie Brown Christmas tree.  We just illuminated it and the kids hung the four balls.  The tree was transplanted by our boys from another part of the woods.

This is the manger scene we have been using for years.  We transferred the image off of a Christmas card that our friend Brooke Gehman drew.  The writing off to the side is the Christmas story out of Luke.  We like the color blue for some reason.  It has a soothing effect.  I hope our lives have a soothing effect as well.

A Charlie Brown Christmas

Wikipedia Info.

In 1965, with just a few months to complete the task, Bill Melendez, Charles Schulz, and Vince Guaraldi created a 25 minute animated cartoon with a simple message that has endured for 47 years.  The project was sponsored by Coca-Cola, who intended to sell Coke, but inadvertently produced two timeless phenomena.

"Linus and Lucy"

To everyone’s surprise, Vince Guaraldi pulled off the unlikely task of making a jazz soundtrack enjoyable to children, and created an album that can make a jazz fan out of any adult.  “Linus & Lucy” became the theme song for Peanuts.  “Christmas Time is Here” became a Christmas music staple.

But a phenomenon of eternal significance occurred when Charlie Brown poses a simple question whose answer escapes all the Peanuts characters but Linus.  In the midst of practicing for the Christmas pageant, he solemnly recites the Christmas Story from the Gospel of Luke while illuminated by a symbolic spot light.  Linus concludes with “And that’s what Christmas is all about, Charlie Brown.” 

Apparently Schulz insisted on the scene staying in the final cut, reportedly saying “If we don't tell the true meaning of Christmas, who will?”  He succeeded in bringing the gospel to millions. 

Linus's Soliloquy

Schulz’s straightforward manner of sharing the gospel of Christ is a lesson to behold.  It involves one who is seeking an answer, one who has encountered light, and the sharing of that truth in a simple fashion.  No great persuasive arguments, no fanfare, no tugging at emotional heartstrings, and no awkward discomfort.   Linus simply says “Charlie Brown, you asked, and I believe this is your answer.  Christmas is about the birth of our Savior.”

As Charlie Brown embraces that truth, it has an immediate effect on him and his view of the world.  He stumbles a little with his failed attempt to decorate his pitiful tree.  But out of that, a beautiful thing happens.  His seeking and acceptance of the truth has begun to impact those around him, and the whole gang acknowledges the moment singing “…Glory to the Newborn King.”

Perhaps things do go better with Coke.

First appeared in the December 2009 edition of the Manna. http://readthemanna.org

Pomanders

When I was in Mrs. Ethel Tingle's fourth grade class at Frankford Elementary School in the year 1970, she scheduled a special project around Christmas time.  We spent most of the afternoon making pomanders.  She gave us specific instructions not to start with a ring of cloves in a straight line around the circumference of the orange, as this would cause it to break in half.  I was careful to place my cloves as randomly as humanly possible to avoid this.

Somehow, I managed to save my pomander.  It may be the oldest pomander in recorded history.

As you can see, my pomander may also be the largest in recorded history. Things like this should not go unnoticed.

Carol of the Fryers

Carol of The Fryers

                                                                             (click on the above link)
     
We first heard this song when WXPZ was on the air in the early '90s.  During the first listen, one asks himself "what the heck is this?"  But at the end of the song, it becomes clear.  It has become one of our favorite Christmas songs, and believe it or not, one of the most touching.

We have a new Christian Radio Station, 88.7fm, THE BRIDGE, and they still play the song.


(If you found yourself on this page, you are in good company.  It is the most viewed entry on my entire blog, as of December, 2012.  In honor of this song, we added a chicken to our nativity.  You can view that blog entry @ "Best Christmas Decorations EVER".  And if you don't mind, leave me a comment.  I would really like to know why this song is such a big deal to you)

Mothers

There is one faithful reader of this blog... my mother.  She has resisted the urge to post comments for fear that she will be perceived as a person blinded by bias.

So, to whom it may concern, my mother is hereby granted permission to post comments ad nauseam.  If it seems that she is biased, you are probably mistaken, because everything she says about me is actually true.

Brent

Things 50 Year Old Kids Like

This small housing development appeared in our neighborhood a few days ago. 



Incidentally, we always have the best decorations on our road.  It's a natural talent.  I have been putting up our family decorations since I was a child.  One year President Jimmy Carter said we should not put up decorations to save energy.  I put them up anyway.  It was the beginning of my rebellious phase.

Picking out a Christmas Tree

We have always had a live tree, and have bought them from various places and in various forms from all over the county.  We have bought cut trees, balled trees (none of them lived), and trees from local trees farms which were cut after we selected them. 

For the last three years, we have bought trees from Landis Tree Farm in Harbeson, DE.  They have a cool thing which they do to encourage families to return.  Besides serving hot chocolate and cookies, they take your picture with your tree, and you can pick up the picture the following year.  This is the one from last year.

Picking out a tree, 2010.

As they say, a picture is worth a thousand words.  The boy peeking from behind the tree is Elias, who was supposed to be posing next to the rest of the family.  True to character, he was in the wrong place at the wrong time.

This year we made sure he was in the appropriate place for the picture.  He did, however, inform us that it was his intent to get lost amongst the trees while the rest of us were trying to locate a tree.  This was slightly inconvenient once we found a tree and needed his approval.

None of that is really important.  They will all be precious memories, regardless.

I’m Not Really Interested

While we are all for freedom of speech in our family, we have a seldom followed meal time rule regarding complaining about the food.  The rule is simple - do not complain.

One Saturday morning, we had just started eating after Tina had spent roughly forty five minutes cooking a breakfast of pancakes, bacon, and apples.  Elias started with the borderline comment “are there any small pancakes?”  We let this slide, as it was just a question, and while it could have escalated into a complaint, it did not.

Then Asher chimed in with his opinion of my wife’s labor.  When he first uttered it, the comment was so unusual that I initially did not understand what he had said (it didn’t help that his mouth was partially full of food).  “Did you say I’m not into this bacon?” I questioned him.  Where did he pick up that terminology I wondered.  How does a six year old even know what he is into, and what he isn’t?

“No”, he replied, “I said I’m not really interested in this bacon.  It’s too soft and salty”.

I pondered that a moment.  Not one to pass up an opportunity for some positive reinforcement, I said “I like the way you said that Asher”.  His mother quickly agreed.  My son (the boy formerly identified as a genius) had stumbled onto the perfect way to comment on food he did not like. 

There was such beauty in his comment.  His statement did not attack his mother’s cooking.  It did not express ingratitude for The Lord’s provision of daily bread.  He was not stating as a matter of fact that he was not going to eat the bacon.  It was brilliant, executed perfectly, and couldn’t have been said any better if he had contemplated it for years.  But he didn’t, he just blurted it out off the cuff.  It came out graciously, almost miraculously.  Boy genius strikes again.

Where did our son get such tact, such control?  Could years of diligent parental instruction finally have taken root?  Did my own consistently appreciative attitude towards his mother’s cooking suddenly become his own after my extraordinary role modeling (and humility)?  On the other hand, perhaps The Lord Himself did a work in this young heart, and it was manifested in this masterful piece of conversational art.

Suffice it to say, Asher’s attitude was a small miracle.  Not that our son is totally insensitive and inconsiderate, but he is six.  At that moment, he was living in another realm completely out of character.

It is a realm in which we could all aspire to live.  If somehow we could address certain circumstances with an attitude that said “I’m not really interested in that”, what a difference it would make in our relationships.  It is a realm where we would share what’s on our hearts without treading on the hearts of others, a realm where we would allow The Lord to meet another believer in the way He sees fit, in a way that may not necessarily interest us. 

The applications in church life are endless, and they all reflect the same basic premise:  while those of us who call ourselves followers of Christ may be headed in the same direction, I may not be too excited about the particulars of the course you have chosen (or The Lord has chosen for you).  You may not be too excited about the course I have chosen.  But I can allow you to press on in your way, you can allow me to press on in my way, and we can love and encourage each other as we press on in the common direction of The Lord.

Like Asher’s apparent epiphany, this may take a small miracle.  Our natural tendency is to argue our own point, to attempt to make our own course everyone’s course, or to become frustrated when others don’t choose to walk the same particular path on which we walk.

Thankfully we have been freed from our “natural tendency” by Christ.  We can live in another realm, where we find ourselves living and behaving outside our natural tendencies, a realm where we treat each other with gentleness.  When we do, we must be quick to thank Him for doing a work in our heart.  We fully understand that it is not us, but it is like that apparent out-of-character miracle that our young son experienced.  And just as Tina and I thought as Asher gently stated his position on bacon, we may catch ourselves saying “where did THAT come from?”

Note:  Asher is now 8 1/2 years old.  

First appeared in the December 2009 edition of the Manna. http://readthemanna.org

Who ARE these people?

According to the tracking information that Blogger provides me, since I started this blog, there were 19 page views from Russia, 10 page views from Germany, and 14 page views from Romania.

Apparently, B.A.Timmons has become a world-wide internet sensation. 

How will I ever remain humble under these circumstances?

Negotiation Tactics of Boys

We were going through a junk drawer, and Tina found this note from our two boys which they had written some time back.  The boys slept in bunk beds for years, and then one day decided they wanted a change.  Apparently their request was not moving fast enough, and in an effort to move things along more quickly, they presented us with this written argument.

 

We did move the big wooden train out of their room, moved the dresser, and separated their beds to opposite sides of the room.  For the record, Elias has found a way to sleep with a "small pile of well used toys to keep him occupied" piled on the end of his bed.

What concerns me the most, however, is that when our boys are grown, and they think back to their childhood, what they will remember is their daddy being unhappy about the state of their room.

This is the definition of a no-win situation for a father.

Robert Frost

I can't recall what year it was, but we were given an assignment in English class to pick any poem and interpret it for the class.  I chose this Robert Frost poem.  It's imagery grabbed me, and I talked about the serenity of the scene depicted by the snow, the harness bells, the horse plodding along, and the woods.

When I finished my analysis, the instructor informed us all that this poem was really about dark things... the contemplation of withdrawing from society and obligations, or even from life itself.  It was a depressing poem, said he.  I think my dislike of poetry began at that moment.

Recently I read that no one really knows for sure what Frost was getting at.  But it may not be as suicidal as some would like to think.  Perhaps he just liked the way the words sounded together.

I believe I like poetry again.  Mr. English teacher, stick your analysis in your ear.

Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening

By Robert Frost

 

Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep.
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep. 

Christmas in Odessa, Delaware

Today we considered taking a quick hour and fifteen minute drive up to Odessa, DE to take a tour of 18th century life.  After some discussion, we elected instead to go once they are decorated for Christmas.  So within the next couple of weeks, we will be off to Odessa.

Historic Odessa, DE

This is what our wreath and entry usually look like after Thanksgiving.  O.k., so our wreath is not quite this big.

Note:  All pictures are courtesy of the Historic Odessa Foundation web site.

 Postscript:

This is the Appoquinimink Meeting in Odessa.  It is said to be "the smallest brick house of
worship in the United States".  I think I would like to attend here.

 Appoquinimink Meeting House

Postscript to the Postscript:  

Unfortunately, we did not make it up to Odessa for the tour, due to the ubiquitous busyness of the season.  It will remain on our list of things to do.

Sea Finds

I first met Al and Linda Abrams when they asked me to build a deck for them in May of 2002.  One day while working alone at their house, I noticed a container of Skittles sitting out.  I ate a majority of them, and left a note informing them of my dirty deed.  Since then, every time I have done any work for the Abram's, I always find a supply of Skittles waiting for me on the job. 


The Abrams opened up a little gift shop in Rehoboth Beach, DE a few years ago called Sea Finds.  I wasn't aware of it until they decided to move to a better location and needed a counter/room divider built.  I fell in love with their shop.  I especially appreciated the fact that Al makes many of the items, and others are made by local artists.  I took my wife and children in, and they all fell in love with the shop as well.



When our anniversary rolled around last summer ('11), I knew the perfect gift for my wife.  The Abrams carried sea glass pendant necklaces.  I devised a plan to stop in the shop with my wife, where she would pick out a necklace, and then we would continue on to dinner.  I texted Linda of my intentions, and asked for suggestions for dinner.  She suggested a Mexican restaurant directly across the street from their shop, the Mariachi Restaurant.  Perfect.  Linda told me to let her know when we were on our way so that she would be sure to be there.

Tina was pleased with my plan as it unfolded.  We found a necklace she liked.  As we left the shop, Al gave me a business card and told me to give it to the man at the door of Mariachi's.  "Ahh," he said, and took us upstairs to an outside deck table.  We had a wonderful dinner, and when it came time to pay our bill, the waiter informed us that it "was all taken care of".  Of course, we knew immediately what had happened, and hightailed it back to the Abrams to thank them.

It was a beautiful gesture, and a defining moment in our relationship.  This couple genuinely cares about us.  They have become much more than customers over the past 9 years.  They have become our friends.  This type of developing relationship is one of the things that gives me the greatest satisfaction in my line of work.  It's what turns work into pleasure.  And without it, work would just be, well work.

Boys and Their Trucks

The last words from the nurse before I left the medical center were “don’t make any important decisions today”.  The anesthesia tended to leave one in a fog for some period of time.  I failed to follow her advice, and by 6:30 that evening, we had a new truck.

I had been driving a ‘93 Chevy S-10 4x4 for the past 7 1/2 years.  With 175,000 miles, and showing signs of old age, it seemed prudent to begin looking for a replacement.  That process had begun roughly six months prior.  No sense in rushing.  It was apparent that the truck I wanted with the parameters I had set would be difficult to come by.  So I diligently looked, checking the crucial internet sights almost daily.  I had just told my wife that my patience was reaching an end.

I returned home from my medical procedure confined to light duty.  Wanting to make the most of the time, I went on a local dealer’s web site and looked at their inventory.  Finding nothing, I filled out a form to alert them of the vehicle I desired, and got my first call within a few hours.  The salesman did not have anything like I wanted, but would let me know if anything turned up.  Within the hour, he called back.  A truck had been traded that day.  I should come take a look.

The truck when we bought it, November, '10.

Since this salesman was only doing what I had requested, it was only fit to respond.  I took my whole family down to investigate.  It was, in fact, everything he had described, and exactly what I had been searching for.  The price was a little higher than what I had hoped to pay, but we made the decision that it was worth it.

That evening before going to bed, my daughter asked if I was “excited” about the new truck.  I wouldn’t use that word to describe my thoughts.  I had things going on in the back of my mind that put a damper on any “excitement”.

                            

The following morning, my wife jokingly/somewhat seriously told me she was hoping I wasn’t worried I had made a poor decision under the after-effects of anesthesia.  No, I was pretty confident my head had been clear by 6:30 p.m.  But I did confess that something was nagging me.  So I had to walk through all the possibilities to try to determine what that might be.

Were we being good stewards with that money?  I may have gotten another year or two out of my old S-10.  I had wanted to move to a full sized extended cab 4x4 to have the room to take our four kids to the beach fishing.  I suppose I could have made due with another S-10, and abandoned the fishing idea.  And of course there was that irksome thought of the possibility of the whole U.S economy crashing again, this time even worse.  Then there are the unemployed who would be perfectly content in my shoes to keep driving the Chevy while just trying to feed their families.  Oh, and what about saving for college and retirement?

But this “new” truck was ten years old with 100,000 miles.  The four wheel drive was practically a necessity. Moving to the full size would accommodate more tools and materials.    

To no great surprise, I was approaching the problem with my typical analysis.  The best my logical mind of the flesh could do was to create a burden that caused my brain to hurt.  I could see both sides of the mental argument, and neither outweighed the other.

The following day, I was pondering on Jacob.  We had been studying the stealing of the birthright and blessing stories.  The Lord always meant to bless Jacob, even from the time he was in the womb, but Jacob worked his hardest anyway to try to gain that blessing.  It would appear that he just didn’t trust God to do what He was planning to do anyway.  Or perhaps he was missing the main point...

Somehow, The Lord is able to take what you are reading and apply it to your own life, often unexpectedly.  Ugh.  You don’t suppose I had an issue of trust here?

We added a cap and ladder racks.

While all of those concerns I was pondering may indeed have some legitimacy, it occurred to me that perhaps the problem which The Lord wanted to put His finger on was trust.  I believe The Lord has provided for us in the past.  I believe that He is providing for us right now.  But apparently it was my trust that He would provide for us in the future which was at stake.

Money in the bank represents security to the eyes of flesh.  Certainly it is prudent to save for the future, but fear of actually using those funds for a need now because we will need them in the future, well, that has doubt written all over it. 

In my mind, Jacob seemed unclear about what the blessing actually was, and how it would come about.  So he worked feverishly to make sure it happened.  He could not rest in the promise that God would bring it to pass.  I found myself almost unwittingly wrestling with a concern about future provision.  I would have to decide if I could continue to trust The Lord and rest, despite an unseen future, or fret.  The Lord needed to do a work in my fretting department. 

After coming to this conclusion, I spoke about it with one of the friends with whom I was studying Jacob.  He gently reminded me of one of the key points we had been discussing.  I was neglecting the bottom line of the Jacob story.  The real substance of the blessing which The Lord intended for Jacob was Himself.  And He would ultimately be manifested through Jacob and his descendants in the person of Christ.  The world would be blessed through Christ.

The Best Truck, Ever, October, '11.

So what I was seeing had to be adjusted slightly.  The bottom line of my truck purchase quandary is this - I don’t know what the material provision will look like for my family in the future.  But there is no need to fret about it, because I do know we are blessed beyond our expectations in the person of Christ.  This doesn’t mean we can handle our finances irresponsibly, and it doesn’t mean we won’t go through slim times - more than likely we will.  But Christ has been given to us freely, therefore we have ALL we need.  What our future holds is simply a fuller understanding of what we already have now in Him.  And that will sustain us through whatever the next twenty years bring.

Post Script:  I have been driving this truck almost a year.  I pride myself on not being materialistic, but I love this truck. I have not, not for one second, regretted buying it since this story was written.

Sarah's First Car

(Warning:  The following entry contains a childish word which may be offensive to sensitive eyes.  Proceed at you own risk.)

After parking our car at the Apple Scrapple Festival in Bridgeville on Saturday, we elected to walk rather than ride the bus into town.  Sarah and I strolled along, and decided to pick out the kind of car she should get when she is able to drive. 

The cars we liked were few and far between, so we began to identify those we did NOT like.  At the top of the heap was this car.

We decided that in the unfortunate event she was forced to drive such a poor excuse for a cool vehicle, then at the very least we should give the car an appropriate name to ease her pain.

There is nothing more fun than to quote lines out of movies we like.  Lines from two different movies, "Hoot" and "RV", came to mind immediately in our car naming process.

The name for the car we choose was the "Smallish, greenish, squarish, rolling turd".  Elias thought we should add the phrase "with turbo" at the end, which we agreed was a nice touch.

'53 Chevy

Today we attended the world famous Apple Scrapple Festival in Bridgeville, DE.  While there are too many awesome things to mention about our day, one in particular deserves mention.  We stumbled upon this car, which is a cleaner version of the car we had in mind for Katherine's first (see "First Car", August 7, 2011 post).  We don't care for the baby crap color.

We also found this car, which we like much better.  It appears to be a '51, but has basically the same body style.

Much to our disappointment, neither car was for sale.

Scrapple Diplomacy

In a discussion about the appropriate conduct in a questionable situation, I accused a friend of being a legalist.  It was in jest, of course.  But nevertheless, the friend claimed to be insulted.  A few days later, I sent a text to the friend.  "What do I have to do to be forgiven for calling you a legalist?

Rapa Scrapple

"How about a scrapple sandwich" the friend replied.

"Done".  Well, that was easy enough.  A short time later, the friend texted back "when can I expect payment?"

I posted a potential date on a shared Google calendar for our families to have breakfast together.  I followed up later with the text "The fact that scrapple made the Google calendar speaks of its great importance in life.  It has become a tool of diplomacy."

"I think its diplomacy would only be effective for a select group of discerning palates" was the response I received.

Later, a brilliant idea struck.  I wondered if Sussex County was ready for a Scrapple cart.  We would sell one thing... scrapple sandwiches and coffee.  O.K.... two things.  I needed a new venture into which I could pour my heart.

A few days later, I asked another friend what they wanted for their birthday.  "More time, and world peace" was the request.

I informed the friend of my new and evolving theory that if you were to serve scrapple sandwiches in the United Nations, I'm pretty sure the entire group would be put in a frame of mind in which world peace would follow.  But sorry,  I can't do much about the issue of time.

Breakfast

We were being harassed by a fly at breakfast while trying to eat our baked oatmeal.  Asher had gotten up from the table, and was watching his mother swat at the fly.  Finally it landed, and with the swift hand of my wife and her swatter, it lay dead on the edge of Asher's cereal bowl.

"I'm finished", he declared.

Christine Shenali Print

The Rubber Band Boat

Our oldest son is the definition of a budding scientist.  Even at the age of eight, he had a natural grasp of the scientific process:  develop a hypothesis, devise a means to test it, fail, regroup, repeat. 

Elias’s latest work was a rubber band powered boat.  Well, not really a boat, but a tube with a rubber band running through it and a stick on one end, acting as a propeller.  He was very excited about his invention, and eager to do put his prototype to the test.

Unfortunately, his plans were interrupted, as we were having company over before he could finish.  Part way through the evening, my wife called for our boys, who had both retreated to the bathroom sink, where Elias was busy playing in the water with his creation.  Tina called for the boys to stop and come out to join us.  No response.

Repeated calls produced one of the boys, but Elias remained in the bathroom, apparently ignoring his mother.  I do not like the boys ignoring their mother.  So I joined Elias in the bathroom and closed the door.  I gave him a very stern talking to, repeating for the hundredth time the necessity of responding to his mother.  He began to cry.  He cried because he saw the anger in my demeanor.  He eventually pulled himself together, and we rejoined our company.

The next morning while taking a shower, this incident came back to my mind.  It was a Monday, admittedly not my favorite day of the week, and I was already in a melancholic mood.  As I recalled the incident in my mind, the impact of it hit me full force.  What had I done? 

My son was immersed in something that drives him.  He was in his own little world, as he often is.  While I am sure the sound entered his ears, he may not have even heard his mother calling.  That little world will serve him well one day, and the fruit of it will probably serve others as well.  He will use that little world to create, to invent, to think of things others have not yet considered. 

I was not thinking of any of this when I lectured Elias about the virtues of listening to his mother.  I was only thinking of what I wanted of him. As I stood in the shower, I thought of how I had walked all over his little experimental world and verbally punished him for being lost in it.  And as I pondered on this, I began to sob. 

I believe that moment in the shower was brought about by The Lord Himself.  It was a flash of intense clarity out of nowhere.  I was reminded of how little control I have of my anger in certain circumstances, and how it totally blinds me to the real situation at hand, as anger always does.

That lack of control is the reason I have so much trouble with those who claim that the way to follow God is simply to be obedient.  There are some situations, such as this one, when the problem begins to manifest itself before you have time to even make a choice.  There is no time to choose to “obey” in such circumstances.  It would seem that in some situations, we are practically powerless to “obey”.  While it is true that I am no longer bound to sin by Adam, there is a refining that definitely has not taken place in this area.

As I stood in the shower, in just a few moments, I was made acutely aware of that lack of refinement.  But I saw much more than guilt from failure.  Guilt alone serves little purpose.  I saw a hope for the future.  I was struck by how the only way for me to behave any differently is for The Lord to do a work in my heart BEFORE the opportunity to stumble occurs again.  Once He does that work, I will respond much differently to my son, and without apparent effort.

So I fall before Him and lay all this out there -  “God, if you don’t do a work in my heart, I am sunk.  My “best” just isn’t working here.  Thanks for reminding me of how totally dependent I am on You to do this work.”  Now, I stand on the ground that indeed, this is a work He wants to do.

First appeared in the July 2009 edition of the Manna. http://readthemanna.org

Windows

Five years ago, my grandmother and I began discussing the replacing of the windows in her house.  Then she had an automobile accident, and the project went on hold.

This past spring, she approached me again, and we began planning a course of action for the job.  The question that must be determined in a window job is whether to use replacement windows or to replace the complete unit with new construction windows.  Replacement windows are cheaper and easier to install.  Replacing the entire window unit is laborious, more costly, but usually results in a better looking job.

I knew my grandmother would lean on me to make the decision for her.  While cost was not a great concern, nevertheless I did estimates based on both options, pricing 4 different brands of windows.  There were many factors to consider.  If we used replacement windows, the outsides of the old frames would need to be wrapped in aluminum.  Some of the wood would even need to be replaced before that could take place.  The nice thing about replacement windows is that you get them made to the exact dimensions of your opening.  With new construction windows, you must choose the closest sized window which will fit your existing opening.  Then there was the issue of one big window which was currently stained wood on the inside.  We preferred to have a wood colored window in its place, which is problematic with vinyl replacement windows.  A wood-look vinyl is available, but not the most gorgeous thing.  Oh, and then there was the issue that chaos and disruption to her home may drive my grandmother to a nervous breakdown.  Replacement windows would be infinitely easier on her nerves.

After considering these issues for a few weeks, or months, I recommended that we use new construction windows.  She elected to take my advice, and mid summer, I placed the order.

By about the second day of working, I was wondering about the wisdom of my decision.  I had guessed that the job would take about nine days.  By the twelfth day, I was still not completely convinced I had done the right thing.

Then one morning I read Our Daily Bread.  Julie Ackerman Link wrote "Whenever we set out to do something good, even when we're certain that God wants us to do it, we shouldn't be surprised when the situation gets worse before it gets better.  This doesn't prove that we're doing the wrong thing:  it just reminds us that we need God to accomplish everything." 

Now I'm not claiming that God told me to use new construction windows. But this encouragement was what I needed to hear.  I was judging the wisdom of my decision based on the ease of the job.  I knew better that this, but apparently needed to be reminded.  From that point on, all the way to the completion of the job on the 14th day, I rested in the decision I had made.  There was so much more God wanted to do than put new windows in my grandmother's house.

My grandmother was happy.  And I learned something, again.

Being Nice

I have a friend who likes to rant and rave with me (in a civil sort of way) about various problems we see in our world.  We were exchanging texts, and began to dabble in a familiar topic which annoys us.  I sent the text "We are going to be nice today" in an attempt to re-direct our conversation.

There was a hesitation.  The friend texted back "Tomorrow, can I be myself again?"

Classic.

Picking Out a Shirt

Probably everyone knows at least one man who can’t dress himself well.  These men have no sense of color coordination, and their wives tell stories of mismatched socks, stripes paired with plaids, and ugly ties.  I am not one of those men.

I have excellent color coordinating skills.  However, I do love routine.  A couple of pairs of pants with matching shirts is all the wardrobe I need.  I had been wearing the same short sleeved buttoned shirts for a long time, and finally asked my wife to pick up a few new ones from the thrift store for me.  She came home with fifteen.  I picked out a dozen that I liked, and gave the rest away.

It is hard to make a routine out of a dozen shirts.  The trick is to pick out a couple of favorites, and ignore the fact the rest are there.  But one Sunday morning, the oddest feeling came over me.  I looked at my dozen shirts and thought “I don’t want to be in a rut of wearing the same shirts all the time”.  So I asked my wife to pick out a shirt for me to wear.

I wore my shirt to our Sunday gathering with the satisfaction I was not it a rut that day.  The good part about it was that I actually liked the shirt she selected.  I felt no loss from having relinquished the decision of how to dress that day.  It actually freed me from the nuisance of standing in front of my twelve shirts debating which one to wear.

If only I had someone to lead me in routine decisions throughout the week, someone who would keep me out of a rut, someone who would free my mind up from tedious choices that bog down my day.

If only I had someone who would always make the perfect choice, someone who knew how those around me would respond to the choice I had made. 

If only I could relinquish those choices as quickly and easily as I did that Sunday morning. 

If only I could come to the place where I really didn’t have a burning preference as to which choice was made, but would be deeply content with that someone’s choice in the matter.

If only my preferences and the preferences of this other someone could become so intertwined that I wasn’t sure if we were talking about my preference, or this other someone’s preference.

If only I had someone who would make decisions of life as simple as deferring to my wife the decision about which shirt to wear. 

Oh, but wait.  We do have that Someone.  There is in fact One who dwells within us, Who can do all of those things.  Perhaps He isn’t so much interested in which shirt we wear, but there is much He is interested in, probably more than we know.

Now, if only I had twelve pairs of pants.

When the Shoe’s on My Foot

One act of forgetfulness can have serious consequences.  I stopped by The Home Depot to pick up some material for the job I was working on.  One of the things I had to get was a 16’ piece of decking.  It was the composite type, which is very flimsy compared to real wood.  I only needed short lengths, so I cut 6’ off the end, putting that piece in the back of my truck, and strapped the remaining 10’ piece to the cap rack.  I also bought 5 sections of railing, which fit into the back of the truck as well.  So far, so good.  Much to my irritation, The Home Depot did not have the type of screws I needed for the job, so I had to make a trip to Lowes.  The two stores are only about a mile apart. 

When I came out of Lowes and approached my truck, the act of forgetfulness became apparent.  I had left The Home Depot with the door of the cap open.  One of the sections of railing was hanging out about a foot.  I did a quick count, and was relieved that all five sections were still in the truck.  However, the 6’ piece of decking had fallen out.  At close to $2.00 a foot, my first thought was to backtrack and hopefully find the missing piece.  It would be a small miracle if it had survived undamaged.

I was not even back on the main highway when I spotted the escapee.  It had landed in the crossover in my next to the last turn into Lowes.  I stopped my truck at the intersection and dashed out to retrieve the decking.  Traffic was light, and the retrieval was successful and uneventful.  However, when I returned to my truck, someone had pulled up behind me.  I didn't want to keep the person waiting, and went into high gear to put the piece back inside.  It would just barely fit, and I fidgeted with it a little to get it in, conscious all along of the possibly impatient driver no doubt staring and wondering what in the world I was doing and how I got myself into this situation.

At last I managed to get the piece in far enough to close the cap.  I turned to run to get back in the truck, and ran squarely into the 10’ piece of decking hanging off the end.  The first thing I noticed was the bend to the earpiece of my glasses which were still clinging to my head.  Without missing a step, I grabbed them before they fell off and continued to the driver’s seat.  It is important to look as if nothing has happened in a situation like this.  I looked for traffic, and pulled away.

The clunk to my head wasn’t all that hard, but my glasses caused a cut near my eyebrow.  I pulled out a handkerchief and applied direct pressure, all the while looking for a place to pull over which was far enough away from the scene of the crime so as not to look like, as I said, anything serious had happened. 

Once off the road, I could see that the cut was fairly insignificant, and it stopped bleeding within a couple of minutes.  But the area just under my eyebrow began to swell, enough that I could feel it began to encroach on my eyelash.  I pulled an ice pack from my lunch box and put it over the area. 

It wasn’t the actual injury that bothered me, as much as the thought of the potential for a more severe injury.  What if my eye swelled to the point that I couldn’t see out of it for a few days?  That was really going to screw up my work week.  Or even worse, let’s just say the lens of my glasses had shattered and punctured my eye, rendering me blind.  In a heartbeat, my life would have changed dramatically.  I pondered on these thoughts briefly, and then something hit me (perhaps it was God who had already hit me with the board hanging off my cap).  I realized that I had a small cut near my eyebrow, the same eyebrow that my son Asher had cut only months before. (see related story)

I thought of how it shook me to consider the idea of living the rest of my life with one eye.  I compared that feeling to what was going on in my head when Asher cut his head.  Certainly I was concerned, but it appeared to be a manageable situation.  Asher’s life with only one eye had not flashed before my eyes.  Living with a scar over his eye did in fact occur to me, but I did not really consider what he would think of his  scar.  In all actuality, my biggest concern was just getting through the crisis.  We were very intent on comforting him in that moment, but I was not terribly concerned about what was going on in Asher’s head about the future.

When it came to my own eye, I am ashamed to say, I attached a different level of concern to it.  I was quick to consider all that could have possibly happened.  My first response was to give a great amount of consideration to the possible implications.  When the shoe was on my foot, as much as I would like to think otherwise, it was different.

The knock on my head reminded me that it is extremely difficult to put yourself in someone else’s shoes.  As much as we would like to empathize, unless we have actually been there, we really don’t know exactly what is going on in someone’s head.  And we are very unlikely to put the amount of importance on their situation that we, in fact, would if we were walking in their shoes.

We really don’t know how their experiences have affected them.  We don’t know how their lives have been molded by their experience.  But perhaps once I become aware of how my own experience has molded my thinking, then perhaps I can understand a little better how much that experience affects the way we live. 

With an extraordinary amount of effort and empathy, perhaps we can put ourselves in the shoes of others.  But that is unlikely for most of us.  We were not gifted with that kind of empathy.  So if I am fortunate, I’ll get a big knock in the head, and that knock will remind me that I really don’t know what someone else is going through, because I haven’t been there.  If I am fortunate, one day I’ll get a taste of someone else’s situation, and I’ll learn something about compassion I didn’t know before.

All this to say that God has His ways (which are not my ways) of working the character of Christ into my hard head.

First appeared in the July 2008 edition of the Manna. http://readthemanna.org

Irene

I never intended for this blog to be a diary.  But since we just had a hurricane that was predicted to do all kinds of bad things, I feel compelled to post this picture of our damage.  This is in no way meant to make light of the lives lost and damage done by Irene.

August 28, 2011

Through most of my childhood, we had a neighbor with the name of Irene.  She was a best friend of my mother.  Before I started school, I would join my mother and go over to Miss Irene's house for mid-morning coffee.  My mother would let me drink coffee with them, against the advice of Irene.  According to my telling of the story as a child, Irene would say that children shouldn't drink coffee, as it gives them a "bad disabition" (disposition).

I disregarded that advice.  And I do have a bad disposition.

Earthquake

The day we get an earthquake in Delaware I'm going to quit my job and ....WHAT???!!!... Oh, wait....

That's Trouble

Our son Elias, 11 years of age, went with me to pick up some things for our bathroom project we are working on.  I loaded two pieces of 1/4" plywood into the back of my truck and hooked a bungee cord from the bumper to the lid of the truck cap to hold in the plywood.

Elias looked at it and said "is that all you're going to do?  That's trouble."

"Why do you say that," I asked.

"Because that bungee cord might break, the plywood would fall out, and BAM!, it could hit a car, and then we would get sued."

He went on to tell me that people sue for anything now.  You could drop a penny on someone's toe, and they would sue you.

We have raised a cynic.

Body Life

Our local church body meets in a building that was formerly a furniture store on Market Street.  At one time there was a drug store adjacent to it, and at some point the two buildings became one.  The facade of that drug store had long ago been replaced with one big window which went the way of all flesh, rotting and decaying beyond what could reasonably be repaired.  So it was determined that the best course of action was to replace it.

Fortunately for us, we have a window manufacturer who is part of our fellowship.  These are custom made high-end windows.  Our window man prefers to build massively.  So naturally, the window was one large 5 by 17 foot beast, approximately 600 pounds in weight.  Once the window was finished, an installation date was scheduled.

I arrived at the building just after 7:30 a.m. on a bitterly cold Saturday, fully expecting to be the first on the scene.  But there were already several men there, ready for action.  So after a word of prayer, we began the demolition.  By about 8:15, the old window was out, and there were now approximately 16 ready, willing, and mostly able men to install the new window.

After some preparatory work to the opening, the time came to lift the monster out of the truck bed and tote it over to four trestle benches positioned in front of our brand new hole in the wall.  Once it was resting there, a board screwed to the bottom of the window needed to be removed.  So two guys risked life and limb and crawled under the 600 pound window to unscrew the board. 

The final task, or so we thought, was to gently lift the window over to the opening, a distance of about a foot, and slide it into place.  Once the window was seated properly at the bottom, we then discovered that the window trim was about an eighth of an inch too high.  So the window had to be leaned out so the top of the trim could be shaved down with a planer. 

It was about this time that one of the brothers spoke up.  He commented that we needed to take note of this situation, because it was a picture of the body of Christ working together.  The wise guy in me immediately surfaced, and I pointed out that there was a slight problem with the picture. The body of Christ wasn’t getting the job done.  We were stuck.   No one seemed to find the humor in my wit.

 

Much to our relief, once the top piece of trim was shaved down, the window then easily slid into the opening.  Mission accomplished.  Nothing left but the finishing up.  By noon we were on our way home.

The New Window Installed

Meanwhile, back at the ranch, others prepared for a church dinner scheduled for that very evening.  We expected a group of about 175, large by our standard.  We have done this for years.  We enjoyed the meal, the fellowship, and our teens led a time of worship afterwards.

The next morning, my wife and I sat at the breakfast table and discussed the previous day’s events.  We made an observation which had seemed fairly obvious in the midst of both of our tasks.  If not for leadership, neither job would have gone very well.  And it was to the benefit of all that everyone recognized who the leaders were. 

In both situations, nothing needed to be spoken about leading.  But it was understood that the final decisions would rest on certain individuals.  While the installation of the window did not go perfectly with everyone following the leader at every moment, for the most part, we couldn’t have asked for a smoother go of it.  As long as the group was paying attention to direction, we were fine.  The dinner also had its typical little glitches, if you even want to call them that.  Last minute mid-stream suggestions to do something differently, changes in the number in attendance, and a slight shortage of macaroni and cheese were nothing to get worked up about, unless of course you REALLY like macaroni and cheese. 

Our tasks that day were relatively simple.  We were installing a window and having dinner.  How difficult or critical could that be?  But we took our work seriously.  We did it as unto The Lord, as The Word instructs us to do ALL work.  Perhaps The Lord instructs us to do that because any old job is an opportunity for THE LORD to work.

The one brother was right after all.  There was an important picture illustrated by all our efforts that day.  But it wasn’t just about seeing the body working together; it was about how the body worked together.  There was a potential for that group of men to make an attempt to install the window, and end up with nothing but a pile of broken glass, splintered wood, and mashed fingers.  There was the potential for us to gather around a meal, only to find out we had a ton of potatoes, a shortage of turkey, and - gasp - no desert.

This is by no means meant to elevate one person above another, but the key was in working together under the direction of good leadership.  We use some imagery in church life that refers to a spiritual truth regarding this.  We have a leader who we call The Head.  That Head is Christ.  We use the imagery of a body to describe the church. Christ is the Head, we are the body. 

In a perfect world, everyone listens perfectly to The Head, and everything goes smoothly.  Of course, we don’t live in a perfect world.  Occasionally, as we had just witnessed in our two tasks, someone decides to call out instructions that are not in line with the wishes of The Head.  Often, there are conditions we don’t anticipate and we get stuck, and our only hope is to stop and focus more intently on the direction and desires of The Head.  Sometimes we think we may have a better plan of action than The Head’s which only hinders the progress.  Sometimes we are too busy talking to each other to listen to The Head.  Sometimes we get frustrated because The Head chooses a plan different from the one we would choose.

Ideally, we are all perfectly in tune with the desires of The Head, and under those circumstances, we do not conflict with each other.  We do not question each anothers' actions or motives.  We do not worry ourselves with the role of others, but only with our own work as it relates to the desires of The Lord God. 

Gradually, as everyone grows closer to The Head, the need for leaders on the level of earth will become less and less necessary, as everyone will be taking direction from The Lord Himself.  But we don't live in a perfect world.  We occasionally need living illustrations to aid our understanding until it becomes a reality in our hearts. 

Meanwhile, until that perfect day, we are frequently reminded that we fall short of always being in tune with Christ.  But hopefully we come to the realization that our flesh must go the way of all flesh: we must allow it to fall away, the stinking rot that it is, and be completely replaced with a newness that can come only from union with Christ.

©Brent A. Timmons 2011