Christmas Rituals Promoting Healthy Relationships

Image via Wikipedia

The way a family works out what happens around the holidays either helps or hurts family relationships. Cued into this dynamic from my counseling classes, Rhonda and I decided before we went through the first Christmas together to celebrate without extended family on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. We wanted our family boundaries to stay firm. We definitely wanted to get together with our extended families sometime during the season, and fortunately, both sets of relatives went along. As my parent’s health declined in their seventies and eighties we included them in our Christmas celebration, too.

Gift opening is an interesting indicator. Does your family value the gift or the giver of the gift? Do people wait for others to open gifts so that all share in and celebrate? If Christmas is about people, wait for others. If Christmas is about the materialistic, treat gift opening like a shark feeding frenzy!

Eating rituals contain relationship building events or not. Children should see people modeling good relationships around the dinner table as people share food, exhibit others-affirming manners, and engage in robust conversation. When the TV blares in the background, dinner has no clear-cut start or end, and a grazing, buffet-style individualism children catch the feeling that adults don’t care and “I’d-better-grab-something-for-myself” attitude.

Christmas contains incredible mystery and sacramental possibilities. Sacramental simply means, “revealing God.” The mystery of Christmas is, of course, God becoming man in bodily form in the person of Jesus Christ.

• How many of our family rituals reveal this mystery? 
• Is the Christmas story in Matthew or Luke read aloud together?
• Are Christmas carols sung or heard, or do you have the secular songs about Grandma getting run over by a reindeer or last year she dumped me at Christmas?
• Do elves or cartoon characters predominate the Christmas decorations, or do the decorations display the mystery of angels, manger, and historical people in the Christmas story?
• Do you pray for the gospel of peace, from the Prince of Peace, to cover the earth, and fill your hearts with His joy?
• Do you invite those who have no family in town to join with your family at some point in the season?

Image via Wikipedia

Some families go to Christmas plays at church, attend Christmas Eve or Christmas Day worship, or hear Handel‘s “Messiah” together. Somehow this Christmas ritual seems right as it gathers people from many walks of life and not perpetuating an individualistic, egoistic, unhealthy seclusion. Walking from store to store in the crowded mall with “Holiday” music playing just doesn’t build healthy, relationship-building rituals.

However, as a Dad who does not like shopping, I re-started a ritual this year. I took our youngest (14) to the mall with his friends and another dad. We shopped for the requisite 90 minutes, then headed to a burger joint. We sat together, laughed, told jokes, and ate for almost an hour. For me, spending time with my son and interacting with his friends and the other dad felt sacramental. God was with us. I enjoyed God’s gift of my son who for 2.5 hours gave me great joy in this city of secularization.

In the Moment: a Follow Up to Yesterday’s Blog

Yesterday, I tried to live in the moment. It was a day to recuperate, write, exercise, study, make phone calls, run errands, but few people to see.

Denard Robinson "in the moment"

At 6:20 I woke to have my QT. Sounds great, but I’m reading through Ezekiel, a tough read! I really need to focus to hear God’s voice through that Wild Man Prophet.

At 6:45 I went outside to get the newspaper and began getting ready for a bike ride that never came. I couldn’t find a few pieces of equipment so wandered through the house and garage looking. Since I was trying to live “in the moment” I didn’t panic or complain. I took a detour, answered about ten emails, wrote in my journal, read and studied, and wrote my list of things to do for the week, so that by 8:40 I had decided that rest was just as essential as exercise. I took a nap!

At 10:30, I emailed Rhonda to let her know I could come out to her school to study in the afternoon if she wanted me. Of course, she wanted me! I now had about two hours to get some things done around the house. I mowed the lawn, washed dishes, fixed a couple of broken things as I puttered through each moment. Even though I was “getting something done” I stressed a couple of times about “not getting anything done” meaning, my big projects, those “big linebackers pawing across the line on Tuesday and Wednesday” kept trying to distract me.

At 1:30, I ate some great leftovers for lunch, showered, and headed out to the library to meet Rhonda. On the way, my best friend from High School, Dave Hodson called, so we had a quick catch up on the last couple of months. I had started to listen to a Joyce Meyer podcast on “Improving Your Mental Health”, but “in the moment” I let Dave in, and loved the encouragement he gave. We reviewed the Michigan game from Saturday, and spoke of future victories for the Brady Hoke team, but in true Michigan fan pessimism we hedged our bets on a winning season. That was definitely an “out of the moment” moment as we fretted about the future.

Rhonda and I sat together for a couple of hours studying, reading, and interrupting each other’s focus with tidbits of conversation. I was trying to write and gather my thoughts about Christian community, but she kept breaking my moment! Or was she “my in the moment” moment? She was the moment! So, we talked.

I left her at 4:45 to head home to pick up Nathan from swimming and fix dinner. We don’t eat out often! The food’s not as healthy, and the cost is way too unhealthy. I thought of what Nathan would like, and planned a spaghetti dinner. I cooked while Nathan did some homework. We ate pretty quickly, cleaned the kitchen so Rhonda would shower praise on us when we came home, and then, Nathan remembered he needed both lunch and a breakfast packed for tomorrow. He swims at 5:00 am on Tuesdays. Rather than complain, we were “in the moment” putting aside our agenda and made breakfast and lunch. Once we started working it went by fast. He did most of the work.

We settled down for a movie about 8:00. Rather than running out to Redbox we found a movie through our cable internet subscription. It was great, a little violent and cussy, but a great story and acting. At 9:00, Nathan paused the movie and went to bed.

So, Rhonda came home, saw the clean kitchen, showered praise on us, and kissed Nathan good night. We talked a little, sat at the kitchen table doing our writing and homework, and crawled into bed about 11:30.

Stress is always just around the corner if I let it. Today WAS a productive day. I didn’t get much done on my list, but at least I HAVE A LIST. I have some priorities for the week, I’m rested and ready for the next linebacker who breaks through the line to get me today.

Did Heaven Touch Me on My Mother’s Birthday?

Eagle’s Nest, Lake Rosseau, Muskoka, Canada. 

I stood alone in the dark at the end of the dock. Rain misted over my face. The night sky, so dark, in the Ontario pitch black wilderness, still let aural highlights outline the islands, mounded and dark in the open water.

I didn’t know why I wanted to be alone. I just stood. Looking at the dark sky. Wanting the silence and fresh air. Very soon I could feel something close to me, maybe someone close to me. I wanted to see into the dark. I could feel a sentimental mush-bomb approaching. A scene from some movie appeared in my brain with the deceased mother fully able to see her boy, but the boy had no idea how close she was. I remembered it was Mom’s birthday. Mom would be 92 today, September 14.

I watched her die. We all did, all five siblings. She died peacefully four days after a stroke. The stroke happened at our house. I had to carry her in my arms to the bathroom. She tried so hard to be lady-like and proper in her wilted state.

My eyes shifted to the clouds and my dad, who loved the place where I stood. He had looked out into that same darkness for the first time 98 years ago. The memories of my mom and dad in this place began to flood over me. I wondered if Dad was right as he lay dying 12 years ago when he asked rhetorically, “I wonder what I will see when I look down from heaven.”

Well, I really don’t know if he was looking at me right then. But I wanted him to be!  I know Hollywood wants us to see ghosts, and feel the presence of the living dead, but I don’t think so. I began to wonder what heaven will be like. I really, really like earth. I know heaven is going to blow us away with the beauty of God’s infinite glory, but I love the place where I stood: the soft breeze, the dusty rain falling, the darkness, the air clicking toward winter cold, the water lapping two feet below me. I thought, “It doesn’t get any better.”

I cried to God, “Show me heaven! Tell me what is close to me! Let me see what you see!” I don’t like ghosty feelings, and knew that heaven had opened for a minute or two. The war between good and evil crunched around me. The flash of living parents and the darkness of that night felt like eternity circled around me.

I walked back to the cabin along the beach, and turned around for one last look before taking the trail up. I whispered, “I miss you mom and dad. I don’t think I was ever closer to you than when we were here together.”

Images of my dad on the beach, with a rake, getting into the sailboat, canoeing me around the lake, hairy chested floating around the shallows, and raucous laughing under the burning lights of the dining room table. While still looking out into the watery darkness, my mom’s gentle voice said, “Tommy,” just like the day of her stroke. I hit a mush-bomb. Tears started streaming down. I ached for days past, for their voices, and their crazy love and admiration so freely given.

We were never closer or happier than when we were on that beach, in the canoe, playing dominoes at night, in that Muskoka place. May heaven be like tonight for eternity together with Christ as our whispering, laughing, peace-filled family.

Happy Birthday, Grace

Responsible twenty-one, now that’s an oxymoron! But you are! You have focus and determination. You know what you want and so don’t do those childish and destructive things most people do that is thought “mature.” Getting drunk on a 21st birrthday never made sense to me, and thankfully, to you. You see the trap, and you know how sticky all traps are. Thank you!

As a parent I am proud that you are setting a straight course. As a spiritual father, I see the course leading to greater knowledge of the One Who Makes Life Meaningful. You will have far fewer problems, far less depression and anxiety, far fewer “tragedies.” It’s His promise. You may experience more people telling you how silly these beliefs are, but you have examined them, these others who bear witness to an inferior focus, and have stayed the course. “Fix your eyes on Jesus, the pioneer and PERFECTER of your faith…” (Heb. 12:1-2) You will help others and be one who rescues them from the fate of unfocused living. Thank you, and Bless You, Grace, on this great day!

Love,

Daddy

Mashed Potatoes

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

the last of last week’s snowstorm is piled in the school parking lot. I walked by these piles of snow on a brisk, moonlit night, and thought of my kids who love mashed potatoes. Just a little gravy mountain, and the whole neighborhood might come over for a snack!

But will it be a white Christmas with mashed potatoes or only a mashed potato Christmas? Snow is forecast for the two days before Christmas and Christmas day, but with daytime temps in the 40′s I don’t think we’ll see snow piles in the parking lot. A dusting is going to be pretty cool to wake up to on Christmas morning!

Christmas Waffle Recipe

The bowl of batter, light, thin and cooks to a crispy texture. Eat it within five minutes or the waffle gets limp and soggy, but still good to the taste.

Actually, this is a recipe from the Fannie Farmer cookbook. We cook these only at special occasions  because there is more butter in these than in croissants! The only complaint is cleaning our non-submersible waffle iron, but it cooks evenly and fast!

RAISED WAFFLES

FOR THE SPONGE:
1/2 cup warm water
1 package active dry yeast
2 cups milk, warmed
8 tablespoons (1 stick) butter, melted
1 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon sugar
2 cups flour
FOR THE BATTER:
2 eggs
1/4 teaspoon baking soda

TO PREPARE THE SPONGE:
Select large mixing bowl. (Note: Batter will rise to double its original volume.) Add water to bowl. Sprinkle in yeast. Let stand for 5 minutes to dissolve. Add milk, melted butter, salt, sugar and flour. Beat until smooth and well blended. Cover bowl with plastic wrap. Let stand overnight at room temperature. Place a tray under the bowl just in case it rises over the top!

TO FINISH THE BATTER:
Just before cooking waffles, mix the eggs and baking soda in a separate bowl then stir into batter. Stir until well mixed. An electric beater works best. (Note: batter will be very thin.)

TO BAKE THE WAFFLES:

Pour 1/2 to3/4 cup of batter into very hot waffle iron. Bake until golden and crisp.

Leftover batter will keep well several days in refrigerator. For our family of six including two teens and three swimmers, we double the recipe for yummy breakfasts or snacks in the next few days.

Makes 8 waffles

Worship 12/20/09

God over depression and sadness,
God over melting snow and dirty,
God over troubled waters, troubled earth,
God over Egypt, Samaria and Al Quaeda,
Return to earth in power
Reveal to earth your Godness
Restore to earth your Eden-ish co-existence.

Captain Marshall S. Bier Would be 97 Today

Marshall Sachs Bier, Born 12/18/1912, Brantford, Ontario, to Dr. Thomas Henry and Ellen Martha Bier

Read another view of my dad on my sister’s blog here (for approved viewers)

From the "Album of Honour" of the Brantford, Ontario, Digital Archives

Today, I miss dad, but not in a way of pain or lingering regrets. He died ten years ago, exactly one day after what would have been his oldest sister’s 100^th birthday. I wish he were here to see some of the things we’re doing with the kids, but I don’t yearn for his physical presence. He may not have been there for every game, but I knew he loved and valued me. He hugged and kissed, tucked in at night, wrote letters through college the old fashioned way and gave me a final send off hug and kiss right before he faded into eternity. He gave all of his five kids a sense of responsibility and independence.

I don’t remember my dad coming to many of my sporting events. I was kind of glad he did not come to my HS baseball games. Having Dad watch me throw the ball over the first basemen’s head wasn’t the way I wanted him to see me. I didn’t run, skate or throw for him, but I sure loved it when he said how proud he was of me. He’d often tell me the same story about his own High School experience of playing football in the mud or wearing magazines for his hockey shin guards. I didn’t feel like I had to be the best to earn anything from him, nor were my mishaps an

My dad is on the right with the mustache. He left the Royal Canadian Army as a Captain.

embarrassment to him.

Not for a second did I ever consider his absence at games or sports banquests abandonment. He was a present father in other ways. We had dinner together almost every night. He was home on Sundays, and most Saturdays. He took his vacations with us, not alone in the woods hunting deer and beer. He had five kids! We were all active in band, choir, sports and private piano lessons. There was no way he could possibly have gone to all of the events! And he was in his early sixties when I was in High School, so imagine what his energy level was compared to mine in those days!

He was busy during the day. He carried the weight of a big staff and big child welfare agency on his shoulders. Forty-five staff and four commercial buildings, plus a high-ego-persona Board of Directors kept him worried most of the time.

“The Gospel Chapel” kept him busy, too. In reality, Dad lived for “The Gospel Chapel” much more than for his money work. He made money and accolades at work, but he sacrificed his life for others at “The Gospel Chapel.” Dad had early Saturday morning elder’s meetings, Sunday School Superintendent’s work, preaching, leading music, in his younger years he led the college and youth groups. We were in church for three or more hours on Sunday morning and returned every Sunday night and Wednesday night for a couple more. During the school year we went on Monday nights to AWANA. Dad would cut vacations a day short to get back in time for church on Sunday morning. He was a contributor and a servant. He loved the people where he worked and worshiped, but his “Gospel Chapel” commitments drove all his others, and not the other way around. What a far cry this is from today’s soccer mom’s and dad’s who live for their kids and their sacrifice for others is practically non-existent.

Nathan’s Rash Like Rudolph’s Nose

After Nathan’s concert tonight, the family went to TCBY for a celebration dessert. When he got home he was bouncing with relief through the house. We couldn’t get him to settle down and take a shower. When he finally got in the shower about 9:30, he stayed in for twenty minutes and came out as red as a tulip. He was itching. His neck, ears, chest, back, legs and arms were covered with some bright red rash. Nathan panics when he gets sick. He speaks with husky, breathy words. and the rash itched. it hurt. his skin was burning. His husky, breathy words boiled around Rhonda and I. His panic boiled harder.

“Calm down, Nathan!”

Nathan's Middle School, 7th Grade Band, Christmas Concert

“It hurts!” he said, wincing, squirming, dipping his shoulders and flouncing around the room trying to resist the pain, and trying to keep from scratching.

I began to methodically work through the logical solutions: trying some skin-so-soft on a few spots; going outside in the cold; two Benadryl; one Tylenol. Nothing seemed to work. I knew the two Benadryl would work eventually, but how long?

He moaned he didn’t want to go to school in the morning looking like this. I didn’t blame him. He was bright red all the way into his hairline. He watched as a welt on his wrist grow from a follicle size to looking like a mosquito bite. He was sure he had Chicken Pox, the dreaded Chicken Pox. Even after describing what a pox looks like, a red dot with a white top, he was sure he had it. Panic! And it really hurt!

While the Benadryl was taking effect Nathan paced around our bedroom. He said it was to take his mind off the pain. He must have walked for ten minutes.

In the meantime, I was trying to call Auntie Helen to verify that the rash was innocuous. She wasn’t answering. Nathan kept pacing, but he moaning stopped. I got hold of Uncle Eric, in a sound sleep in Mobile, getting ready for an early flight tomorrow morning, who called Helen. We went through the symptoms with her.

Nathan got to show her a few blotches via Skype, but the light was bad so Rudolph-red blotches looked like dark shadows. Then, magically, Nathan lay down on the end of my bed, closed his eyes and fell asleep. I couldn’t believe it! He lay there for about five minutes as Helen and I talked, woke up and stated that it was easier to lie there quietly because he wouldn’t think of the pain. He put his head down for another five minutes. While Auntie Helen and I talked, he woke up and started reading a book. Helen and I talked for twenty minutes more at which time Nathan stood up, pronounced he was going to bed, and he wasn’t itching as much, kissed me, said “Good Night” to Auntie Helen, and voila, bonne nuit! That was it.

Now, what causes rashes in kids? Stress over the concert? His new pants from Kohl’s? Too much iced yogurt? The hot shower dried out his skin? He’s itching and moaning and the next minute, “He’s fine!”  In the morning, the rash will be nothing more than a distant memory erased by the sweet dreams of a half day of school tomorrow and two weeks of Christmas vacation. I just hope the Benadryl wears off by morning. He’s going to be one groggy boy in first period if it doesn’t!

I think the stress is what did it, but why this concert and not the two previous ones and ten piano recitals before? Thank God the rash is gone, and Nathan is safe in bed sound asleep, without a worry to his name until the next concert in May.

Lydia Graduates: Magna Cum Honduras

With a degree in Mathematics, a minor in Bible and Spanish, Lydia rushed from graduation last Saturday, May 9th, for six weeks. Is she using her math degree? Nope. She’s using her God degree. Our Lydia is gifted in translating the gospel cross culturally. So, she’s using what God has given to her. This fall she goes back to Lee U. for her Masters. Will she be using her math degree? Nope. She’s using her passion for helping people to receive the first ever Lee U. Masters in Cross Cultural Counseling. Figuring out people’s problems is new math at its best!

We are all so proud of you Lydia Lea! And also for graduating Magna Cum Laude and Magna Cum Honduras!