When Our Lease Is Done

By Peter Lundell

I recently moved my mother to a new, downsized apartment. At times the process involved careful sorting and packing; other times demanded chucking things in boxes or in the trash. At the end of the move, the walls were bare and wounded with nail holes and plastic drywall anchors. The carpet lay lined and pocked with impressions of once-arranged furniture. And the windows stood stark and vacant against the sunlight. The furniture and decorations that once made it home were gone, leaving only an empty shell.

Throughout our lives we may go through some phases with great care and others with wild abandon. And at each phase of life, we will leave the previous one behind—a place that was once home but is now gone, like an empty apartment.

At death we may leave behind money and furniture, but the life we lived—the space we took up, the “us” that people knew—will be gone, empty as a moved-out-house.

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The Elf Is Watching…

By Gina Stinson

Every year about this time a small little stuffed creature arrives at our home—Elf. Elf is a friendly little guy who is responsible for reporting back to Santa about the behavior of my kids. He’s Santa’s helper.

It’s convenient. Elf shows up and my parental instructions are more readily obeyed and my kids actually move more quickly and with a little more excitement when routine chores are accomplished. It’s hilarious. I giggle to myself as I watch.

Eagerness to please, quick response times, and such remarkable devotion to a stuffed animal that only comes around three months of the year is cute…and understandable for little children. Adults would be ridiculous to act that way. But in a world where materialism, money, and employment are valued above character, morals, and values, we might need to take a second look into the Elf’s mirror. Who are we trying to please?

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Wait Not Want

By Cheri Cowell

I’m terrible at waiting. Some people seem to possess a wonderful abundance of patience, but I’m not one of those people. Others who know me say I have a lot of patience and I’m good at waiting, but they don’t know what is going on inside. Inside I’m pacing, I’m making to-do lists, I’m thinking through all the possibilities, and I’m agitated. I’m not patient. I’m not waiting, I’m wanting. I’m wanting for the event to start, the situation to improve, or the circumstance to change. What is the difference, you ask? When I am truly waiting I have a peace about me that says I know the event, situation, or circumstance is a done deal. It is going to happen and I don’t need to fret or worry. There isn’t anything I can or need to do but wait. It says that I am not in control, but have submitted that authority to Someone bigger and better able to handle it than me. When I want, I feel I have control, and therefore, all the responsibility. Advent is a time to wait.

John says it so clearly: When Christ was born; True Light came into the world. That scene has been completed and is completed in us again every Christmas. Advent is our time to wait on the Lord, knowing full well that the gift will arrive on time. 

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The Loudest Sermon

By Gina Stinson

Growing up, I had a friend who came from a large family. Becky’s dad was a part-time preacher and carpet layer. They struggled to make ends meet. It was sometime in the 1980’s when I saw my dad do something I will never forget, the kind of thing that makes you look at your parents in a different, more respectful light.

It was Christmastime. We were at church when I saw my dad walk up to Becky’s dad, say a few words in greeting, and hand him a bundle of money. It was exchanged during a handshake. I saw Becky’s dad’s eyes well up with tears and I watched two men embrace in a strong, manly way I will never forget.

What my dad did was put feet to action. He saw a need and did something about it. I also saw the response of a grown man wanting to care for his family. Seeing hope and gratitude in his eyes jumpstarted me to action. I learned you don’t have to have a lot to do a lot. My family didn’t have money to throw away. There were three kids and my uncle and my parents living in a modest home with one income, yet God placed a burden on my dad’s heart to help meet the needs of others. Other than me, I doubt anyone else besides my mom saw what happened that day at church, but it was one of the loudest sermons ever preached to me in church.

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Sleeping Through The Night

By Cynthia Ruchti

How old was Jesus when He first slept through the night?

A friend of mine has a newborn who can’t go more than a couple of hours without reminding the household she exists and has needs.

I wonder how old Jesus was. Two months? Four?

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