A wonderful family from my church gave me a book about Thanksgiving last year. The book is a history of how Thanksgiving came to be, the peril of the Pilgrims as they tried to tame a new land and their continuous worship to God for His goodness.
I took the book out again this weekend and read about the Pilgrims' journey across the Atlantic ocean. I admire their courage as they boarded the ship dreaming of a better place where they could worship as they chose. As they battled seasickness, terrible storms at sea, unkind ship's crew and poor food rations, their praises to God could be heard from the steerage of the Mayflower. Now, I'm prone to motion sickness and can't even imagine how awful it would be to travel in a confined area with no windows surrounded by people just as sick as I was. I could identify with their joy at seeing land for the first time in two months!
As we prepare for Thanksgiving, I have tried to spend some time each day giving thanks to God for his many blessing in my life.
My family, who brings such joy to my life. My nephews who keep me grounded and in touch with a childlike faith.
My friends, who have seen me at my worst and love me anyway.
My church family who stick together and lift me up in prayer daily.
My pets, Lucy and Monster, who keep my life colorful and my bed warm at night.
Clean sheets right out of the dryer.
I could go on and on. I know that there are people in our community who do not have a roof over their head, a door to close that shuts out the world and food to keep their children fed. I have infinitely more than I need or deserve.
I often challenge my youth groups to list their blessings. After parents and friends, they loose steam quickly. Giving thanks isn't something we often spend much time doing.
As I have gotten older, the thanksgiving has gotten easier. You have experienced enough life to know that there are others in our world that struggle through each day. You become thankful for the stuff in life that makes the living sweet - warm summer sunsets, a still lake while fishing at dusk and a tiny hand in your hand as you cross the street.
I am thankful for that small band of believers that risked everything to find a place where their voices could be lifted to heaven in praise to God. I am also thankful to the Lord for his mercy and the creation of a drug named Dramamine!
Have a blessed Thanksgiving!
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
Black Friday
Thanksgiving is just around the corner and I have started to prepare for a family tradition - Black Friday. This tradition was introduced into our family by my sister-in-law and has been going strong for many years. For those not familiar with the concept, I will explain. Black Friday is the day after Thanksgiving when retailers slash prices on big ticket items (think televisions, computers, game systems) and open early in the morning - 5 a.m. It is said this is the first day of the year that the retailers are actually in the black and making a profit.
I, too was once skeptic about getting up before dawn to stand in lines in the freezing cold only to battle through crowds for the chance to snatch up merchandise at rock-bottom prices. Now I am a committed shopper with the battle scars to prove it.
More strategical planning goes into this shopping expedition than most ground wars that have been fought. You starts weeks before Thanksgiving scouting out "Black Friday" websites, looking for the best deals. On your way over the river and through the woods to Grandmother's house, you pick up the Thanksgiving edition of the paper to pour over the ads while the turkey is digesting. You make lists, check opening times and then draw straws to decide which poor soul gets to stand in line while everyone else stays in the car until the doors open. One year, my brother and sister-in-law announced that a new addition would join our family in June. Guess who stood outside that year? Me.
Actually, standing in line isn't too bad. Everyone is surprisingly jovial at 4:15 a.m. You are all there for a shared purpose. And if you're lucky, you'll get your face on television as local news networks show up every year to document the insanity as the doors open and you are pushed along with the flow of a crowd desperate to get the two Wiis the store is selling.
Most people will just shake their head in disbelief when you talk about getting up at 3:30 a.m. to get in on the bargains. They really dont' realize what they are missing. The adrenalin rush of being shoulder to shoulder with perfect strangers in a quest for an MP3 player. This is the only time of year that it is permissible to run through the mall without being chased. The amazing buys that keep us coming back each year.
One year, we were all at my folks' for Thanksgiving. We got up at 3:30 a.m. to go into Watertown, South Dakota for the sales. My brother and I stood in line while my father, sister-in-law and nephew stayed in the car until the appointed time. The doors open, we were caught in the rush of bodies moving forward and off we went to get our chosen items. The rest of the family ambled in after the doors opened to get carts to carry our cornicopia of great deals. I put my vacuum cleaner, DVD player and crockpot in a cart with my purse and left my father in charge of the booty while I went off to take advantage of a sale on pajamas with feet. Upon my return, my father was nowhere to be found, but the cart stood right next to a bench full of older gentlemen holding their wives' purses. As I approached the cart to check and see that I hadn't been relieved of my wallet, one of the men questioned me as to my identity. My answer was, "who are you?" The man proceeded to tell me that he was watching the cart for Warren and no one was to take anything from the cart. Even at his advanced age, I think he could have "put the hurt on me". I tried to assure him that I was Warren's daughter and had every right to be rolling away my own purchases. He was not convinced. Just about the time he reached for his cane to protect his territory, my father appeared and thanked the man for his vigilence. Questioning my father's sanity for leaving the valuables with a man we didn't know, he simply replied that his name was Bill and although he didn't know him, he looked like a trustworthy fellow.
The legend of Bill and the Black Friday shopping that brought him into our lives is still relived at our thanksgiving feasts. Black Friday is not just about the great buys. It's also spending time together enjoying each other's company and knowing that in a place where it's every man for himself, you have someone watching your back and keeping your crockpot from getting stolen. I pray that you have a blessed Thanksgiving. See you in line!
I, too was once skeptic about getting up before dawn to stand in lines in the freezing cold only to battle through crowds for the chance to snatch up merchandise at rock-bottom prices. Now I am a committed shopper with the battle scars to prove it.
More strategical planning goes into this shopping expedition than most ground wars that have been fought. You starts weeks before Thanksgiving scouting out "Black Friday" websites, looking for the best deals. On your way over the river and through the woods to Grandmother's house, you pick up the Thanksgiving edition of the paper to pour over the ads while the turkey is digesting. You make lists, check opening times and then draw straws to decide which poor soul gets to stand in line while everyone else stays in the car until the doors open. One year, my brother and sister-in-law announced that a new addition would join our family in June. Guess who stood outside that year? Me.
Actually, standing in line isn't too bad. Everyone is surprisingly jovial at 4:15 a.m. You are all there for a shared purpose. And if you're lucky, you'll get your face on television as local news networks show up every year to document the insanity as the doors open and you are pushed along with the flow of a crowd desperate to get the two Wiis the store is selling.
Most people will just shake their head in disbelief when you talk about getting up at 3:30 a.m. to get in on the bargains. They really dont' realize what they are missing. The adrenalin rush of being shoulder to shoulder with perfect strangers in a quest for an MP3 player. This is the only time of year that it is permissible to run through the mall without being chased. The amazing buys that keep us coming back each year.
One year, we were all at my folks' for Thanksgiving. We got up at 3:30 a.m. to go into Watertown, South Dakota for the sales. My brother and I stood in line while my father, sister-in-law and nephew stayed in the car until the appointed time. The doors open, we were caught in the rush of bodies moving forward and off we went to get our chosen items. The rest of the family ambled in after the doors opened to get carts to carry our cornicopia of great deals. I put my vacuum cleaner, DVD player and crockpot in a cart with my purse and left my father in charge of the booty while I went off to take advantage of a sale on pajamas with feet. Upon my return, my father was nowhere to be found, but the cart stood right next to a bench full of older gentlemen holding their wives' purses. As I approached the cart to check and see that I hadn't been relieved of my wallet, one of the men questioned me as to my identity. My answer was, "who are you?" The man proceeded to tell me that he was watching the cart for Warren and no one was to take anything from the cart. Even at his advanced age, I think he could have "put the hurt on me". I tried to assure him that I was Warren's daughter and had every right to be rolling away my own purchases. He was not convinced. Just about the time he reached for his cane to protect his territory, my father appeared and thanked the man for his vigilence. Questioning my father's sanity for leaving the valuables with a man we didn't know, he simply replied that his name was Bill and although he didn't know him, he looked like a trustworthy fellow.
The legend of Bill and the Black Friday shopping that brought him into our lives is still relived at our thanksgiving feasts. Black Friday is not just about the great buys. It's also spending time together enjoying each other's company and knowing that in a place where it's every man for himself, you have someone watching your back and keeping your crockpot from getting stolen. I pray that you have a blessed Thanksgiving. See you in line!
Friday, November 14, 2008
Allow Me to Introduce Myself
I really like how the munchkins introduced themselves to Dorothy after she landed in Oz. With great song and dance, they each stepped forward, extended a quick greeting and moved into the background. Due partly to my Methodist upbringing and lack of coordination, there will be no dancing from me. I can sing, but feel most comfortable doing this in front of people who already love me for who I am, ie church family and my pets. Budget constraints prohibit any big band background music and special effects are out of the question -- I think that the witch in the movie was burned pretty badly. I have a history of being somewhat accident prone, so we'd best make this simple.
I can pretty much guarantee that I have very little to say that anyone would think profound. I am the daughter of a two preachers and am now serving in ministry myself. This has taught me that although you may be talking, that doesn't mean that anyone's listening. I just hope to give another perspective on what the Lord promised would be "life, more abundantly".
I serve in youth ministry, which makes me a little different from the average person. I can pull allnighters with the ease of a college student, know how to create a bible illustration with just a laffy taffy and masking tape and have a fondness for doritoes at 6 a.m.
Working with youth definitely keeps you humble. Pride deflates quickly when the kids reminisce about the time I scared some junior high boys at 3 a.m. when my uncontrollable hair was illuminated by lightening in a dark sleeping area.
Youth ministry isn't for the faint of heart (or stomach). Being a seasoned youth worker means you've come through years of ministry unscathed and know which battles need to be fought. I have been serving in youth ministry for 15 plus years and still feel like a novice. I have many youth worker collegues who have worked in this ministry field for 20 some years and stand in wonder at their longevity. You can spot these veterans from across a crowded cafeteria. They are admired for their willingness to put their comfort aside and sleep on an air mattress in a cold gym with 200 other teenage girls at a weekend youth event. They have been asked questions in confidence that keep them awake at night. They have spent three days on a bus with a group suffering from stomach bugs collected at a Mexican mission project site and sign up the next year. They can sing the "dead reindeer song" in their sleep -- and probably have.
I love that God has called me to this ministry. It is awesome to see God work in the lives of His children. Despite the tough stuff that goes with this occupation, I couldn't imagine not having this in my life. My prayer is that God would be reflected in my life and people would recognize His fingerprints all over me.
God bless --- and pass the doritoes!
I can pretty much guarantee that I have very little to say that anyone would think profound. I am the daughter of a two preachers and am now serving in ministry myself. This has taught me that although you may be talking, that doesn't mean that anyone's listening. I just hope to give another perspective on what the Lord promised would be "life, more abundantly".
I serve in youth ministry, which makes me a little different from the average person. I can pull allnighters with the ease of a college student, know how to create a bible illustration with just a laffy taffy and masking tape and have a fondness for doritoes at 6 a.m.
Working with youth definitely keeps you humble. Pride deflates quickly when the kids reminisce about the time I scared some junior high boys at 3 a.m. when my uncontrollable hair was illuminated by lightening in a dark sleeping area.
Youth ministry isn't for the faint of heart (or stomach). Being a seasoned youth worker means you've come through years of ministry unscathed and know which battles need to be fought. I have been serving in youth ministry for 15 plus years and still feel like a novice. I have many youth worker collegues who have worked in this ministry field for 20 some years and stand in wonder at their longevity. You can spot these veterans from across a crowded cafeteria. They are admired for their willingness to put their comfort aside and sleep on an air mattress in a cold gym with 200 other teenage girls at a weekend youth event. They have been asked questions in confidence that keep them awake at night. They have spent three days on a bus with a group suffering from stomach bugs collected at a Mexican mission project site and sign up the next year. They can sing the "dead reindeer song" in their sleep -- and probably have.
I love that God has called me to this ministry. It is awesome to see God work in the lives of His children. Despite the tough stuff that goes with this occupation, I couldn't imagine not having this in my life. My prayer is that God would be reflected in my life and people would recognize His fingerprints all over me.
God bless --- and pass the doritoes!
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