Wrapping up the Holiday

By Emily Parke Chase –

Shopping for Christmas gifts can be an exhausting task that involves dashing through the malls in a one-horse open sleigh, selecting gifts for that hard-to-please elf, and fighting the traffic on rooftops. Thus when it comes to wrapping gifts to put under the tree, some of us, and perhaps even Santa, run out of gas.

Wrapping packages probably dates back to prehistoric times when cavemen used wooly mammoth skins as gift wrap. As soon as less odorific alternatives were invented, people turned to papyrus, parchment, and finally paper. For many years, sheets of newspaper, especially the Sunday comics, worked fine. Of course, it took a few more years to invent cellophane tape. As a result, my friend’s gifts tend to resemble Egyptian mummies, using tape in place of gauze.

Next came bows. An enormous shiny bow on top of a package is like melted cheese on top of a church potluck casserole: It can hide a multitude of sins. In not-so-long ago times, believe it or not, people actually tied ribbons on their packages without help from professionals. Now we  pay others to fold, bend, and mutilate ribbons into complex shapes that rival my worst bad-hair day.

Boxes come in assorted sizes and shapes. They hide awkward bumps and lumps. Plain brown boxes worked fine until one day someone discovered they could shape them into unique sizes for specific items and thus let the whole world know that Dad was receiving a tie for Christmas. The next logical step was gift bags. These offered the perfect solution for last minute gifts. You could open the front door and receive a fruit cake from a neighbor, plop it in a bag as you walk through the house, and then open the back door and pass the cake along to the next deliveryman. Like boxes, these bags once came in various shades of brown, beige and ecru (a French word, meaning “brown”). Now they come decorated with holiday hues.

Still there is room for creativity. When my father asked for new cans of tennis balls for Christmas one year, my brothers and I wrapped each ball individually in Christmas wrap and tied them on a small Christmas tree. Dad tried very hard to thank us even as he grieved over the fact that the vacuum seals of the cans were destroyed in this process. (He experienced enormous relief when he discovered that the individually wrapped balls were actually used ones; with the new ones still safely stored in their air-tight cans under the tree.)

Is this painful ritual of wrapping Christmas gifts truly necessary? Is there any theological basis in scripture for this annual rite? Just one: Long before holiday wrapping paper, bows, boxes and gift bags became popular, God Himself took time to wrap up all His love in a bundle of  swaddling clothes. Then He placed His gift in a manger for us to find on Christmas morning.

Thank God for His Son, a gift too wonderful for words! (2 Cor. 9:15 NLT)

The author of this article is busy wrapping her gifts, but feel free to visit her at emilychase.com.

Jingle Bills

By Lynn Rebuck –

On the verge of a holiday spending spree and under the deadline pressure of unfinished Christmas shopping (okay, unstarted Christmas shopping is a more honest description), I write my annual Christmas column.

Please know that I will be at the mall Christmas Eve until it closes, surrounded by men who are shopping for their wives.  As the only woman shopper in the store, I will be asked numerous times for advice by these men.

My hope is that men will read this column before they go shopping, saving me time and saving them embarrassment on Christmas morning.  So here’s my advice for last-minute male shoppers:

No matter how supportive your wife is of your fishing or hunting hobby, she does not want an electronic fish that sings or a moose that dances.  No amount of justification will overcome the resentment of your purchasing season tickets to your favorite team “for her.”

Blenders are not sexy. Unless she has specifically, and in writing, directed you to purchase an appliance for her, stay out of the kitchen department.  Jewelry is a wonderful gift, but selecting it can be sometimes confusing.  There are numerous metals and stones to choose from, as well as different settings, cuts, and clasps. When in doubt, buy her the more expensive piece (ladies you can thank me later).

Do not buy her pierced earrings unless her ears are pierced.  If you have been married longer than two minutes, you should know this about her.  The item you selected is indicative of how much you know and care about her.

If you don’t know what size clothing your wife wears, don’t guess. Buy her jewelry instead.  No matter how tempting the sale may seem, do not buy a woman shoes.  Women seldom like practical gifts.  Do not, under any circumstances, buy a storm door for her, no matter how long she’s been mentioning it.

Fancy wrapping cannot cover an insincere gift (I think I read that in a fortune cookie once).  If the ink is still wet when she reads your Christmas card, you will be penalized.

Remember, before wrapping a gift remove the price tag.  A woman will not be impressed when handed an item that has been marked down several times over.  Don’t tell her how much money you saved on her present.  Tell your buddies and tell your Facebook friends, but don’t tell her.

Lynn Rebuck is an award-winning Christian humor columnist, speaker, and comedian. Check out her humor video “Two Nights Before Christmas” on her website, www.LynnRebuck.com. It’s a modern telling of the classic poem, told from a woman’s point of view.  Lynn would love to hear from you, so please leave a comment or you can email her at LynnRebuck@gmail.com. © 2010 Lynn Rebuck

December Blahs and Humbug!

By Kathi Macias –

No, that’s not a misprint. I meant “blahs and humbug,” not “bah, humbug,” though anyone who knows me would be shocked to hear me say either.

I’ve always been the one to finish my Christmas shopping in July and have my 250 cards signed, sealed, and ready to deliver by Thanksgiving. The packages are wrapped and the house is decorated (inside and out!) by the end of November, and my oven goes into non-stop baking mode two weeks before the Big Day.

Well, okay, that’s how it used to be! Now? Not so much. I think my pre-Christmas regimen began to disintegrate when the last chick left the nest, more than fifteen years ago. Little by little, I found myself cutting back. I used to take such pride in adding one more special, dated ornament to the tree each year, but with the kids all gone and decorating trees of their own, what was the point? The only recent exception was the year my husband and I spent Christmas in Hawaii and I came home with a “Mele Kelikimaka” ornament to remind me of how wonderful it is to spend December 25 on the beach, sipping fresh-squeezed pineapple juice and not giving a thought to all the emails that were piling up in my unchecked inbox at home.

I do still put up a tree, of course, but we no longer go “over the river and through the woods” to chop one down. I simply pull it out of the box, fluff the branches out, add a few ornaments, toss some tinsel, plug it in, and voila! We’re good to go.

I confess too that I’ve resorted to gift cards for our ever expanding family. It was easy to shop carefully and personally for each family member when we just had our boys at home, or even after the first couple of grandchildren were born. But we’re closing in on almost twenty of them now, and it’s gotten out of control—not to mention that we almost never get what they like anyway, so gift cards are the perfect solution. And with each of our children now having to alternate holidays between us and their in-laws, I don’t even have to cook the big Christmas dinner as often.

I should be glad, right? I mean, December is so much easier now! Still, I must confess to missing that hectic flurry of activity that used to wear me out but also left me feeling so…satisfied. Fulfilled. As if I’d actually accomplished something. Can you relate?

Sure you can. The empty nest changes things. Life is simpler, I suppose, but a bit more “blah and humbug.” Don’t you think?

But it also gives me more time to reflect on what Christmas is all about. Family, yes. That’s such a big part of the celebration. But is it really the “reason for the season”? Of course not. And regardless of the season of life we’re in and whether or not we still have children at home, still bake Santa and tree cookies, still hang stockings, or still delight in watching our children’s eyes light up when they open their packages, we can celebrate the birth of the Savior and worship the One who sent Him to us. If we’ll stay focused on that, we won’t have to worry about “blahs” or “humbug.”

Have a blessed Christmas, dear readers—wherever you are!

Kathi Macias (www.kathimacias.com; http://kathieasywritermacias.blogspot.com) is an award-winning author of more than 30 books, including her two most recent releases, Valeria’s Cross from Abingdon Press and Red Ink from New Hope Publishers.

Gum Won’t Fix It

By Jodi Whisenhunt –

Just so you know, gum won’t fix a decapitated snowman. Legend has it, on a slushy Christmas Eve, 1986, as two brothers tossed a football in the sleet and snow, Frosty’s distant relative (of the Styrofoam cutout clan) went for the interception and encountered a personal foul. The snowman’s head dropped into the receiver’s hands while the ball slid under the bushes.

Being the responsible teens that they were, the brothers attempted to re-head the snowman with the only adhesive available, chewed up bubble gum. Now, either it was really sticky gum, or it froze quickly in the twenty-eight degree night.

Daylight betrayed the boys’ blunder and exposed their cover-up. When the sun thawed the Bubblicious, the snowman’s head slid down his shoulder and rested on the broomstick in his hand. My husband and brother-in-law, the kids in question, learned then that God “brings hidden things to light” (Job 28:11b NIV), for “He reveals deep and hidden things; he knows what lies in darkness, and light dwells with him” (Daniel 2:22 NIV).

Christmas morning, instead of tearing into ribboned boxes of cassette tapes and Atari games, the boys led their mom out to the yard. The snowman’s tilted noggin made her giggle. She wrapped her scarf around his neck to secure the gum repair, then stepped back and hugged her boys. Her gift of forgiveness was their most treasured present that year.

An errant pass broke the snowman, but sin, like the deception of hiding a wrong-doing, severs God’s children from the body of Christ. The world’s biggest gumball couldn’t begin to mend such separation.

Fortunately, the Christ child born in a manger two thousand years ago, who knew no sin, took on the sin of the world. He, the Bright and Morning Star, revealed the Truth. He did not conceal our transgressions; however, He washed them all away so that we may sparkle as new-fallen snow.

This Christmas, when you gather with loved ones, sipping hot cocoa and watching flurries flutter, remember to acknowledge your sin to the Father, for He did not blanket our iniquities but forgave the guilt of our sin (Psalm 32:5 NIV).

Jodi Whisenhunt is an Amy Award-winning freelance writer and editor in McKinney, Texas. You can find her at www.jodiwhisenhunt.com or www.magicalmouseschoolhouse.com, where Disney IS school.

Let’s Talk Turkey!

By Kathi Macias –

It’s November, and I want to talk turkey. Trust me. I know a lot about the dirty birds. I’ve spent my life dreaming of soaring with the eagles, but…well, you get the picture. In fact, something tells me I’m not the only one who’s spent more time with turkeys than with eagles, am I right? Unfortunately, in my family, the chances of breaking out of that worm-pecking, bug-eating flock on the ground to join that majestic bunch in the sky are just about zero and none.

Let me explain. My late father (who was never late for anything in his life!) lived by the adage that there was “a place for everything, and everything in its place”; the “early bird catches the worm”; and “if it’s worth doing at all, it’s worth doing right.” On top of that, he was German! And since I was the firstborn (and the only girl), I caught the brunt of his “how to become self-disciplined and accept responsibility” lessons. I learned them well.

Now, as a so-called grown-up, if I don’t arrive absolutely everywhere at least fifteen minutes ahead of schedule, I think I’m late. If something goes wrong within five miles of me, it has to be my fault. If it happened beyond that five-mile limit, it was also my fault because if I’d been there, it might not have happened at all.

You get the picture: overly responsible type-A firstborn, devastated when I receive a 98 percent score on a test because all I can see are the two I missed, volunteering for everything and striving to succeed—yet never quite making the grade in my own eyes.

Why does that make me a turkey? It doesn’t. But it keeps me from soaring with the eagles because I’m always looking down at the ground, hunting and pecking to see if I’ve missed a bug or a worm, or if the dirt needs raking or the sidewalk needs sweeping. As a result, I miss a whole lot of the soaring that’s going on over my head.

My two younger brothers, on the other hand, have always been just the opposite. Bob, the typical middle child, was oblivious to such things as dirt or worms or bugs because he felt no responsibility whatsoever to clean them up. After all, he already had me to do it for him! And Jerry, the baby? Puh-leeze! All he had to do was whimper, and we all came to his rescue!

Most people think firstborns are the ones who come out on top—the eagles, so to speak. Shows how much they know! Reminds me of the cartoon of the man walking his dog. The canine is having a great time, while the owner walks obediently beside him, carrying a scooper and a little plastic bag. In the thought balloon for the dog it says, “And he thinks he’s in charge!”

Firstborns are a lot like that. We think we’re in charge. We think we’re responsible. We think we’ve got it all together, but we also think it’s all our fault—everything! We can never just relax and go with the flow—which sometimes turns out to be an updraft that carries all who are willing on eagles’ wings, far above the everyday drudgery of turkey-type living. While everyone else is soaring and swooping overhead, we’re missing out because we’re still trying to clean up and fix the mess below.

I love and appreciate all that my disciplined father taught me, traits that enabled me to be a hard worker and a respected citizen. But sometimes we turkeys need to stop trying so hard and just look up—way up!—and maybe catch a whoosh of Holy Spirit wind and let God carry us for a while. I’ve heard the view up there is something else!

And with Thanksgiving just around the corner, I’d like a slightly different perspective than that of a turkey, wouldn’t you?

Kathi Macias (www.kathimacias.com; http://kathieasywritermacias.blogspot.com) is an occasional radio host (www.blogtalkradio.com/communicatethevision) and award-winning author of more than 30 books, including the popular Extreme Devotion series from new Hope Publishers and Valeria’s Cross from Abingdon Press. She and her husband, Al, live in Southern California where they spend their spare time riding Al’s Harley—hence, Kathi’s “road name” of Easy Writer!

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