Christmas Past

On Thursday mornings, I wake up a little earlier than usual to write this column. Normally, I commit to paper the thoughts that have been stewing in my heart for the past week and pray for clarity to get the message God is trying to teach me. But sometimes my heart gently, but firmly tugs me back to something I've already written, and I hope you agree, bears repeating. Although I wrote what follows two years ago, it's a story which began Christmas Day, twenty years ago, in Houston, Texas…

            I’ve only spent two Christmases away from home. The first time I was 33 years old and receiving chemotherapy treatment in an isolation room in Houston’s M. D. Anderson hospital. Michael was home with our four young children, and my Dad flew to Houston, courtesy of Anne and Emile Bergeron, to spend Christmas Day with me. No one knew he didn’t have the money for a hotel, so thankfully his plan to sleep on the sofa in the hospital’s lobby worked out. We spent Christmas Day visiting through the glass window that sealed me in a sterile environment. I know, I know, so far it sounds sad, but hang on, it really wasn’t.

We talked and laughed and prayed. We paused as I received Christmas calls from far too many people to name. While on the phone, I watched as he either read the Bible, or ate from the cookie-filled shoe box that a friend had dropped off. Although we were without the comforts of home, or the company of family and friends, we had a really great day. It was so very peaceful. I wasn’t depressed, angry, or visited by self-pity. I was alive. My family was healthy and safe, and I was secure in the knowledge of God’s infinite love, and His ability to perform the miraculous.

The second time I spent Christmas outside of Louisiana was a little farther north. At the time, my daughter Elise, was twelve years old, and dreamed of walking the crowded streets of New York City. She had never dreamed of becoming ill. How odd that a dreaded disease would somehow give way to the fulfillment of a dream.

After bravely enduring chemotherapy treatment for lymphoma, she was contacted by the Make A Wish Foundation, which grants wishes to children diagnosed with life threatening illnesses. When she shared her wish to visit New York, her father suggested Disney World instead. “Daddy,” she replied, “I’ve been there, and that’s a place you and Mom will take us again. I don’t think you’ll ever plan a trip to New York.” (Besides being brave, Elise was also very wise.)

Although we tried to imagine what it would be like, none of us were prepared for the actual adventure of New York City at Christmastime. We toured the city, and marveled at the sights we had only seen in pictures and on television. While walking up to view the tree at Rockefeller Center, the young man on the side of us dropped to one knee and proposed to a very excited young woman. We went to the top of the Empire State Building, visited Central Park, Times Square, Fifth Avenue, and didn’t let the freezing rain stop us from running around the Statue of Liberty. We were excited and determined to do and see as much as we could, yet were unprepared for the emotions we felt as we stood at Ground Zero, and re-lived the September 11^th tragedy.

A Broadway play and the Christmas Spectacular at Radio City Music Hall were both beyond our expectations, especially the dramatic living Nativity scene which concluded the Christmas Spectacular. As we exited Radio City Music Hall, it began to snow.  Elise walked ahead of us, confidently navigating the crowd. Although I couldn’t speak, my heart exploded that Christmas Day as I watched my daughter experience her dream of walking the crowded streets of New York City, and I thanked God that my wish, my prayer, my daily plea for her life, had also been granted.

This Christmas will be spent at home, with lots of people and presents and food. However, in the midst of all the activity, my heart will beat with the rhythms of peace, faith and gratitude I learned through my two out of town Christmas experiences.

No matter where we are, no matter who we’re with, Christmas Day and every day, may we be found utterly dependent upon, and thoroughly grateful to our God, “Who so loved the world that He gave His one and only Son, that whoever believes in Him shall not perish but have eternal life.” John 3:16

Ronny may be reached at rmichel@rtconline.com

Plans

I love a project. My daughter's latest one has me finding my way back to the sewing machine. Monique's search for nursery bedding, conducted throughout the world wide web, has resulted in a box filled with beautiful fabric. Pastel colored lovebirds, paisley, stripes and dots stare at me, begging to be taken out, measured, cut, and pieced together to form a comforter, dust ruffle, and pillow to surround baby Olivia with warmth and beauty.

            If you could see the pictures in my mind, you would be surprised by the coarse sketches I've made to guide me through this latest endeavor. I do have a plan, which is gradually taking shape, but only I know it. Even when questioned by Monique, my response is, "Trust me. I know what I'm doing."

            Washington Roebling had a much greater plan to carry out. Upon his father's death, he became the chief engineer of the Brooklyn Bridge. An injury confined him to his home where he shared his plans with his wife, who took it upon herself to learn the art of bridge building. Daily she carried his plans to the site and took over many of the supervision and project management duties.

            When at last the great bridge was completed, Roebling was placed on a cot and carried to the bridge. After allowing his eyes to examine every facet of the structure, he joyfully exclaimed, "It's just like the plan; it's just like the plan."

            An even greater plan by an infinitely greater Architect is being carried out today. We may not see the full picture right now, but God does. Jeremiah 29:11 assures me of that, " 'For I know the plans I have for you,' declares the Lord, 'plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.' "

            We may not understand or even appreciate the simple day to day tasks we face, but if we remain diligent and focused and faithful to complete each one, we will gradually see the bigger picture. The events we call coincidences, the people we meet, and the situations we face, when treated as Divine appointments, all work toward God's plan. "And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose." Romans 8:28.

            Although I'm sometimes tempted to question God, I've decided to wait it out. Besides, I'm sure I'd hear Him say something like, "Trust me. I know what I'm doing."

Ronny may be reached at rmichel@rtconline.com.

Thanksgiving 2012

Victoria's day began with a cup of vanilla caramel cream coffee and a heavenly hash brownie. I don't even pretend. Sure it would have been healthier to bake biscuits, cornbread, or quiche, but the first thing I saw when I entered the kitchen was the pan of brownies so I took it as a sign.

            My justification of breakfast  (for those who would require me to have one) is that the Thanksgiving and Christmas celebrations will offer many opportunities to deviate from our normal diet, so we might as well get our stomachs used to it now. Besides, it's her last year of high school and… well, it's her last year of high school. Next year at this time, Victoria will be preparing to come home (from the college she's yet to commit to) for Thanksgiving.

            Although our details for this year's celebration have not been finalized, I've asked Monique to repeat what she did last year. She took a small chalkboard and wrote, "I'm thankful for…" across the top. We took turns writing our own message on the board, then holding it to pose for a photo. The sentiments ranged from heartfelt to hilarious.

            This year, my heart spills over with gratitude for three things. Since they won't fit on Monique's chalkboard, I'll squeeze them in right here.

            First of all, I’m thankful for the past. My sister, Kay, and I have a pact. We will not become people who long to relive those days gone by. Although the past holds many wonderful memories, there are also times tucked between the good which were bad. To be honest, some were awful days we never wish to repeat. Kay and I agree to be thankful for the blessings of the good days, appreciate the growth resulting from the bad ones, and forever be grateful for God’s ability to weave them all together for our good.

            Next, I’m thankful for the present: the gift of today. I only have this moment, so I’m going to squeeze all of the life I can out of every minute. I want to live in such a way that the people in my life have no reason to doubt my love. Before most of them even open their eyes in the morning, I have already brought their names before God in prayer. In addition, today I am going to work diligently to complete the projects I have begun so I can start new ones. This gives me little time to weep over the past, or worry about the future.

            And speaking of the future brings me to my third area of thankfulness. I am so grateful for the days to come. They are all in God’s hands, and I trust Him. I commit the unknown future to the well-known God, Who said in Jeremiah 29:11, “For I know the plans I have for you… plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.” As the days are revealed, He will provide the wisdom and grace to live each one to the fullest. I am sure of it.

            One of the few areas of the future I'm quite sure about is Victoria's next school day. It will begin with a cup of vanilla caramel cream coffee.

Ronny may be reached at rmichel@rtconline.com

Sweet Potato Vines and Faith

It started with one small vine.

            Last summer, after planting a few flowers in a pot, there was still space to be filled.

            "Get a sweet potato vine," Aunt Judy said. So I did.

            The vine lasted throughout the summer, but succumbed to the winter temperatures. This past spring, I was surprised to find the little plant come back to life. I fertilized, watered, and watched the vine as it grew to fill the pot, then spill over the edge.

            I clipped off a few pieces to add to other planters, window boxes, and an empty clay pot in the flower bed. These newly transplanted vines, tended almost daily, survived, then one day they took off and quickly grew to twice, thrice, then many times the original size. The vine in the flower bed did exceptionally well, probably because it put down roots where it touched the dirt, securing it to the ground and enabling it to draw additional nourishment from the soil.

            Anything you feed will grow. Anything. Sweet potato vines. Amish friendship bread starter. Stray cats and marriages. Attitudes, fear, and faith.

            Conversely, stop the nourishment and watch it go away. Plants shrivel up and die, relationships disintegrate, cats leave, and fear withers. So will faith. My challenge is to feed only what I want to grow in my life. And I'm not satisfied with only healthy plants and the starter for sweet bread.

            My daughter Elise spends many college classroom hours studying psychology, and eagerly shares what she learns. She says even if you force a smile or a laugh, you benefit from the results. The facial movements release endorphins in the brain, reduce stress, cause pleasant feelings, boost the immune system, and lower the blood pressure. Just think of the added benefits of being genuine and having the good thoughts to accompany your cheerful expression. Growing and maintaining an optimistic attitude can begin by feeding it with positive thoughts and even a forced smile.

            What about faith? It's been said that if you feed your faith your doubts will starve. The best way I know to feed my faith is by reading the promises of God, the things He has done in the lives of others, and by remembering the victories He's brought in my own life. Faith also grows when shared. As much as I want my faith to grow, even a little is powerful. It's good for me to be reminded of Jesus' words in Matthew 17:20. He said faith the size of a tiny mustard seed can move mountains.

            Start with a tiny seed of faith.

Ronny may be reached at rmichel@rtconline.com

The Sounds of Yesterday

Ssshhh… can you hear it? Basketballs bouncing in the driveway. Giggles and screams and a blur of children running across the front lawn. Coos from a little one in a high chair working patiently and purposefully as she tries to bring a Cheerio from the tray to her mouth.

            Listen. The phone's ringing, the doorbell's dinging, and the oven timer's buzzing. The stack of mail silently begging for attention must wait because it's time for homework to begin.

            And finally, the noise moves upstairs and becomes muffled as baths are taken, teeth are brushed, and prayers are prayed. Then, a quiet voice from a gentle child (Elise) utters the words that set my world in motion all over again. "I need a current event report for tomorrow." Even this memory makes me smile, for it brings me back to a season of my life that is quickly coming to an end.

            What do your memories sound like? Don’t worry. I'm not really hearing things, and this is the first time I've thought about the sounds of my yesterdays. This past week, as Victoria and I searched for a childhood photo suitable for her high school yearbook, the pictures I had carefully preserved brought the past back to life. In addition to the stories captured by those prints, I began to remember what was going on beyond the boundary of the picture, the things I would have captured with a wide angle lens and a tape recorder. This avalanche of memories included the sounds from days gone by.

            As I write this, Victoria, my last child, has just celebrated her eighteenth birthday. I'm telling myself to just breathe in and breathe out. It's going to be okay. The same God Who guided me through raising five children will gently usher me into the next phase of His plan for my life. 

            When my first child was only a few months old, I looked at her and prayed, "God, let me enjoy every stage of Monique's life. I don't want to rush her to sit up, crawl, and walk. Neither do I want to mourn the past and wish she was still a newborn. Let me just enjoy and fully appreciate every day."

            This prayer is being prayed again. I'm determined to squeeze every moment out of my last year of having a high school student, realizing that the pictures I presently take and the stories I tuck away in my heart are the memories I'll savor as I move toward the future. 

            I hope to always be able to recall the sounds of the precious past. In fact, I think my corner of Heaven will echo with these melodic memories.

            Except for that whole "current event" conversation.

Ronny may be reached at rmichel@rtconline.com

Do Not Complain About What You Permit

What do a bonsai tree, moisturizing exfoliator made with salt from the Dead Sea, a photo of the St. Louis Cathedral on a foggy night, and a praline have in common? (I was going to add candied pecans and honey mustard salsa, but I thought the list was already too long.) Give up? All were items  purchased by my daughter, Victoria, during a recent craft show at Oak Alley Plantation.

            Way too soon after our arrival, we were loaded down with merchandise the craft vendors were anxious to part with.  My Mom, sister Ann, daughter Lauren, and granddaughter Adeline were with us, and Adeline's stroller quickly doubled as a shopping cart. Nevertheless, I somehow got stuck with, and by, the bonsai tree. Those little leaves are sharp! But we kept walking.

            Turning the corner, we found a booth filled with wooden signs, yet Victoria and I were drawn to the same one. "Do not complain about what you permit." We talked about it briefly, walked on, and now, days later, those words replay in my mind.

            I've thought about how the simple message applies to raising children, choosing friends, workplace situations, and as I headed out to vote early, I realized it even applies to choices we make at the polls.

            Yes, I vote. As soon as I was of age, I have exercised my civic responsibility to choose the candidate I felt was best for the job. I thought everyone did. I recently researched the topic a little and was surprised to read that 1 in 5 self-professed Christians are not registered to vote, and of those registered, only 60% voted. I wonder if anything would be different if all Christians participated in the voting process. Would abortion still be legal? Would the ban on prayer in schools continue?

            If you haven't seen the movie, Monumental, presented and produced by Kirk Cameron, you can borrow my copy. It traces America's beginning and reveals the true 'national treasure' that made our country great.

            There are many who would like to forget our Godly foundation, and remove the name and principles of God from the public arena. Voting for candidates most likely to preserve the freedoms not afforded in other countries is one small act, which when united with others of like mind, significantly affects our future, and Adeline's.

            And speaking of Adeline, thanks to yet another craft show purchase, we will be able to record her height with a pink princess growth chart. Even though she isn't born yet, I bought one for my granddaughter, Olivia. Over five feet tall, those charts proved to be more awkward to carry than the bonsai tree. I guess the motto, "Do not complain about what you permit," applies to craft show purchases, too.

Ronny may be reached at rmichel@rtconline.com

and that's the Truth

Decisions. Decisions. Or rather, Monique and Frank's decisions, decisions. There have been scores of them as my daughter and son-in-law plow through the process of bringing their hurricane-flooded home back to live-in condition. Because they are living with me during this restoration, I have the fun of listening to their plans and watching them choose flooring, paint colors, and kitchen cabinets. The very first discussion centered on a certain wall separating the kitchen from the dining room. We all thought it should be removed to create a large, open space. There was only one question. Was it a sustaining wall? If it was necessary to support the structure of their home, removing it would open up the home a little too much.

            Walls, nails, and in my house, super glue are responsible for holding things together. Belts, too. And while the belt on your pants may hold your outfit together, the belt of Truth described in Ephesians 6:14 provides an important function for the Christian.

            The apostle Paul's instruction to the church of Ephesus remains a foundational lesson for us today. To explain spiritual warfare, he chose the analogy of a soldier's armor. The belt was a crucial part of the Roman soldier's armor for it had a place for the sword, strips of leather to protect the lower body, loops for lances, ropes and a rations sack. In addition, the belt held together the other parts of the armor. No soldier would race into battle without his belt. Spiritually speaking, Paul admonished the Christians to wear a belt of Truth.

            So what is Truth? In praying to God, Jesus said in John 17:17, "Sanctify them by the truth; your word is truth." God's Word, each and every instruction, commandment, warning and blessing is the Truth. That Truth is what sustains, protects, keeps everything else together, and prepares us for the spiritual battles we face daily. I believe that without Truth, things fall apart and we are rendered helpless. As a belt wraps around a waist, Truth should encompass every part of our lives. 

            Unlike the little wall in Monique and Frank's house which was discovered to be unnecessary, Truth should never be removed from our conversations, schools, government, and every other part of our lives. It's not always easy, and sometimes painful to face, but Jesus said, "the truth will set you free." (John 8:32)

             Monique and Frank are sure to feel free once they are able to get back in their own home, but I will miss them. And that's the truth.

Ronny may be reached at rmichel@rtconline.com