According to Webster’s, a tradition is a belief or custom handed down from one generation to another.  We all have traditions within our families and communities.   Those special, sometimes even peculiar, ways that we celebrate life together and mark the time that has passed.  For most of us, we celebrate birthdays, anniversaries, and graduations.  We also share holidays together like Easter, Fourth of July, and Halloween.  But it is at this time of year – November and December – that we seem to more intensely cling to the traditions we have established to celebrate Thanksgiving and Christmas.  Whether it’s the chill in the air that makes us want to huddle together, the smells that remind us of the changing seasons, or nostalgic memories that cause us to try to recreate years passed — all these things add to the joy and the struggle of keeping our holiday traditions.

As a child, this time of year usually meant at least one trip back to Laurel, Mississippi, the town where both of my parents grew up and where most of our extended family lived.  For a city girl, Laurel was a sweet small town, and the outskirts held dairy and chicken farms to visit.  There were grandparents to see, lots of aunts and uncles, and country cousins to play with.  And there was FOOD, lots and lots of food; but it wasn’t the usual dishes that mom served at home.  There were things like chicken and dumplings, fresh squirrel stew (shot by my dad and his brothers), peas and butter beans, and turnips and other greens.  Back in the New Orleans suburbs, this time of year meant spending time with neighborhood friends, keeping the air-conditioner from blowing the tinsel off the Christmas tree, and, of course, anticipating what we would get for Christmas.

I’ve visited the Pearl Harbor Memorial, where my dad served, and war memorials in Washington DC, Gettysburg and other cities.  They are all quite sobering.  

Last week I had the privilege to visit a little known Air Force museum in Fort Walton Beach Florida that is a part of the Eglin Air Force Base there.  I’m not sure what I expected.  But something about actually standing next to the airplanes that were flown by Air Force pilots moved me.  

As I stood there peeking through the cockpit windows I was moved by what it must be like for our military men and women to be serving – often in danger, covert missions, far away from their homes and families.  The years of training they invested.  The hours of study and practice to perfect their skills.  The accidents, near accidents and outright tragedies that they often experienced.  I was struck by how young many of them were; by the names painted beneath the cockpit windows and the mascots painted on the noses of the planes.  

I imagined what it was like to be the wife or mother of a pilot flying in so many dangerous conditions.  What it must be like to be waiting at home day after day, trying to balance the demands of everyday ordinary routines while holding your breath hoping that your loved one is safe in some far away place.  I cannot imagine the wealth of emotions family members feel — worrying over their safety, grieving over their loss, swelling with pride in their courage and commitment.  

As we walked through the exhibits, we could see the progression of aircraft, guns and other weaponry over the last century.  Planes have become both larger and more streamlined allowing them to be more versatile in their uses.  Cockpit instrument panels have become smaller in size yet more complex in their controls.  And with these changes, personnel are required to endure more extensive training as they complete ever more complicated assignments.

Though I’ve been to other battlefields and museums, I don’t think I’ve ever felt so personally affected or connected to those who have served protecting our country.  And while I try to be quick to tell all those who have served “thank you for your service”, “thank you” is too small to express the gratitude for all that’s been sacrificed.  Sacrifices that allow me to speak and move about freely; sacrifices that ensure that I have choices and opportunities to determine for myself what my life will look like.  Sacrifices that have been made on my behalf by others, most of whom I’ll never know their names.  

So, to all those who have served, whether full or part-time, close to home or around the world – “THANK YOU!”  It’s just two small words, but the sentiment and appreciation are the greatest.  

When 2018 began, I prayed and asked God if He would have a different verse for me to focus on.  The verse I believe He directed me to is from Ecclesiastes 3:4 – A time to weep and a time to laugh; A time to mourn and a time to dance.  Anyone who knows me or has followed these writings knows exactly the source of my weeping and mourning in recent years.  And while I don’t think  that I will ever stop missing Michael and thinking of him, I have turned my focus to laughing and dancing, both figuratively and literally.

In the last six months I have had the privilege and adventure to meet a number of new friends – friends who have expressed an interest in a dating relationship.  And yes, you may have guessed, I met them through online dating sites.  I know, I’ve even surprised myself.  I will reassure you that I have been cautious and discerning.  I have taken much time to try to get to know them before allowing them to contact me personally.  I have surprised, even shocked, my children and my friends.  And while their initial reactions were not always what I would have liked, more and more they are beginning to understand that this is a new season of life for me, filled with new experiences and possibilities.  And the beginning of a new season in no way erases the seasons that have gone by.

These new friends come from a wide variety of backgrounds and vocations, and my experiences with each have been just as varied.  There’s the insurance agent who lives down on the bayou, who loved to text me for an extended period of time but was never ready to meet in person.  The writer who was ready for a third date when I wasn’t, and then wasn’t interested when I was.  The policeman who was fascinating and told me how beautiful he thought I was, but had a filthy mouth and no desire to change his vocabulary.  The inventor and custom car builder who was just too wild for this old fashioned girl.  And the residential contractor who was raising a 10 year old foster son while juggling a relationship with the boy’s drug addicted mother.  And while none of these new relationships will take a romantic direction, I can honestly say that any one of them could walk in the room and we would each call the other friend.

Oh, and there’s one more . . .

Yes, this is a new season in my life.  I never thought I’d be in this place, considering the last time I went on a first date was 1975.  Life looks very different at sixty than it did at twenty, and that includes dating and dating relationships.  Sometimes it takes you on an emotional roller-coaster.  Sometimes it occupies too much of your time and energy.  For many, the rules and expectations are much different than they were forty years ago.  And it calls you to make a decision – do you change with the times and ideas of twenty-first century dating relationships, or do you stick with the boundaries you set for yourself and preached to your children?

So I guess I’m just publicly acknowledging what’s been going on privately for a number of months.  I’m not exactly sure where I’m going with this post, or I should say, where I’m not going.  Because you see, my current adventure is not over.  In fact, it may be just beginning.

In that same piece and another, I have also written of my goal to be more “present”.  For me that means feeling more and expressing those feelings more.  At times it has meant being willing to let myself cry when for years I would not.  It has also meant being willing to express myself in various forums, including this blog, and risk being vulnerable to others’ opinions.  And family, friends and strangers have been encouraging as I took the chance.

[Side note:  Most of the time once I post on the blog, I find myself “hiding out” for a while – my way of finding a safe place when I’m feeling vulnerable to others’ criticisms.]

But there’s something else I’ve learned as well.   With the openness and public revealing of yourself, sometimes you humiliate yourself.  Sometimes you can say things in the moment that look very different the next day.  Sometimes taking the chance to express your emotions can lead to making a fool of yourself.  Sometimes you look back and cringe with embarrassment at something you’ve said or done.  And you can’t take it back.  At best you can try to hold your head up, hold the tears in, and walk on.

But where’s the lesson?  When you risk it and fall, do you dare risk it again?  Do you dare put your heart on display for the world knowing that you may be embarrassed/ mortified/ red-faced/ humiliated (I’ve run out of descriptive words) again?    Why not just retreat back to the same safe place you’ve been for so long?  It might not be as exciting, but it also doesn’t hurt as much.  Or do you dare to keep going, to keep trying, to keep putting your heart on display knowing full well that the world may trample upon it again?  Or is taking that chance even more foolish than the fact that you’ve already been made a fool once?

Is it worth the risk to be made a fool a second or third time?

And where do you go for first aid for your heart?  Do you stay in bed and refuse to go outside?  Do you binge on ice cream and chocolate for dinner?   Do you watch that Hallmark movie and then scream at the TV?   Nope.  You dust yourself off, put one foot in front of the other and go out to live life again.  Maybe followed by some retail therapy.

At this point some might quote the immortal words of Lord Alfred Tennyson:  “‘Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.”

However, I think I’ll quote a different philosopher:                                    “I’d rather have thirty minutes of wonderful than a lifetime of nothing special.”                                                                                                                                                             Shelby from Steel Magnolias

As it happened I was available on the day in question and was happy to participate.  I looked forward to the experience of going to a school that I had never visited before, though I had heard of the work there many times.  I will confess that sometimes, as I anticipate volunteering, my mind will begin to convince me of what a noble work it is that I am doing.  And before long, rather than seeking to serve and bless others, my mindset becomes one of piously helping those who are less fortunate than me.

During my time there at the school, I had a few minutes to chat with one of the young ladies.  I believe she told me her name was Carol.  She was quick to tell me that she would have a birthday next month, and when I asked she told me she would be thirty-three.  She then went on to explain to me that she had been born three months early and that she was so small that she was able to fit in the palm of a person’s hand.  I couldn’t resist asking her which hospital she was born in and she told me Ochsner.

Now these details may not seem important to you, but my oldest daughter will also be having a birthday, at the end of this month, and she will also be thirty-three years old.  And, like Carol, my oldest daughter was born at Ochsner, more than three months premature, and fit in the palm of her father’s hand.  In fact, Carol and Christy were born just eleven days apart and would have both been in the neonatal intensive care unit together.

Can you just imagine how God put this meeting together?  In the middle of my sanctimonious piety about volunteering, God allowed me the sweetest of blessings – meeting Carol.  He reminded me of His goodness and of how great my Christy’s journey has been.  He reminded me that the night before Christy was born the doctors gave her just a 20% chance of survival.  They then told us that if she did survive she would live her life in an institution, deaf and blind, never able to communicate with us or do the things that other children did.  As I met and talked to Carol I couldn’t help but note that amidst her sweet disposition and friendly manner, she lived with great physical and developmental challenges every day of her life; while my daughter defied the odds to earn multiple college degrees, pursue her profession and live independently as a wife and mother.

My first inward response was, of course, one of thankfulness and amazement that I had the opportunity to meet this remarkable young woman.  But as I drove home later in the day, there was another realization that hit me.  If you know me or have followed this blog, you know that over the last four years I have wondered why we did not have a different outcome during Michael’s illness.  Why could he not recover and thrive after his transplant like so many others?  Why did he even receive a transplant if his life would only be lengthened by a few weeks?

Today, I began to remember that I have been on the other side of that coin.  I have been the one who received the most positive outcome from a difficult situation, while others did not.  I have been the one to walk out and leave the hard days behind me, while others dealt with difficult challenges day after day, year after year.  And in that situation, never once did I ask God, “Why?”  Never once did I think about all the others who dealt with the disappointment of broken dreams and the heartache of “if only”.   And here God led me to another layer of gratitude – the gratitude that no matter where I am, and no matter what the outer circumstances look like in my life, my God is always there with me, growing me into His likeness.  I may not see His hand at the time and I don’t expect to ever understand His ways, but I know that, whether I get the result I seek or not, my God will cause all things to work together for my good so that I may become conformed to the image of His Son.

God, may I not look to the visible and temporal results on this earth, but may I trust You to use whatever means necessary to make me more like Christlike.

For momentary, light affliction is producing for us an eternal weight of glory far beyond all comparison, while we look not at the things which are seen but at the things which are not seen; for the things which are seen are temporal, but the things which are not seen are eternal.                              2 Corinthians 4:17-18

I have been driven through a Palestinian refugee camp where whole generations know only this way of living.

I have seen the walls and the barbed wire that separate two groups of people.

I have watched the soldiers pace at the border and carefully check the papers of each one who crosses.

I have read the names of those who have been killed by each side.

I have stared at the graffiti on the wall that shows my country’s flag on the planes that drop the bombs.

I have been looked at scornfully by men as I walked through the streets because I was a woman in the company of men.

I have been avoided by women because I was a woman without her head covered in public.

I have been told that each side is wrong, that each side is the aggressor, that each side should leave the land.

I have heard parents tell the story of their grief because their child has been killed by someone from the other side.

I have been chastised in languages I don’t understand because I am obviously American.

I have been viewed in a certain light because of the way I dress / speak / look.

I have had women who did not speak my language and did not dress like me, smile at me and offer to share their picnic lunch with me, making sure that I was told by the interpreter that it was homemade, not store bought.

I’ve had these same women pose with me for a picture with my camera, and then ask for a picture with me using their camera.

I have begun to question the simple answers that I always assumed were correct since I have been confronted with individuals rather than just ideologies.

I have seen so many examples and consequences of the conflict in this land.  And yet I think the biggest conflict in Israel right now is the conflict within my own heart.  The struggle to see beyond the foreign clothing and to hear beyond the foreign languages.  The struggle to not immediately judge those around me because they are different from me.  The struggle to hold back tears when I think of how easily my mind and heart revert to assumptions and stereotypes.  The struggle to love others who are different.  The struggle to understand why I struggle, since God has not only loved me unconditionally but has put His power within me to do the same to all those around me.

I think the greatest conflict in Israel today may be the conflict within my own heart – a conflict that only the love and grace of God can resolve.  If it’s this way in my heart, could it be this way in the hearts of others?  And if God can solve the conflict within me, perhaps that is the conflict that will end all the other conflicts I have seen.

Oh how I miss him. I am so lonely so much of the time.  I don’t want to be crying so much lately.

My God gives comfort to the sorrowful.  I want to look to Him and Him only for my comfort.  (Not food or laziness or relationships or shopping or money or tv.)

This is the day that the Lord has made.  I will rejoice and be glad in it.  Today is worth rejoicing simply because God has given me this day.  It is a gift from Him to me, so I will rejoice, be grateful and appreciative, and I will not let it be wasted in sorrow or tears or pity.

There will never be another February 28, 2018.  God, do not let me waste it or take it for granted.  Do not let me squander it by living in the past or worrying about the future.  Help me to learn to live in the present.  It is not something that I know naturally how to do.  But I know that You can show me how.  Guide me.  Help me to hear Your voice.  Strengthen me to follow Your prompting and to do Your will.  Give me the desire and the strength to put aside the things that are not Your plan for me, even though a part of me still wants to hang on to them.

Show me how to divide my day between quite times of reflection where I encounter You, and times of productive busy-ness that will keep me doing Your will and not allowing the devil to have any foothold or influence in my life.

I love You God.  And I submit my life and particularly this day to You, to have Your way.  While I still struggle with my own desires and silly daydreams, I know that You alone love me with a love that seeks the very best for me.  Thank you for loving me this way.  Help me to trust you more with each hour today.

This is also the time that many of us take a minute to reflect on our lives, the blessings and the challenges.  Hopefully we can find it easy to be grateful and appreciate all the good things in our lives.  But we also spend some time looking at places for improvement and progress toward personal goals.

I am no different in this regard, although over the years my New Year resolutions have evolved.  Most often they are no longer tied to quantifiable measurements like pounds or dollars, but include more abstract objectives.  So, with that in mind, tomorrow at midnight I hope to say goodbye to some of the less desirable parts of 2017 and hello to a new improved version of me and the world around me.   Below are a few of the things on my list.  Feel free to add your own in the comments.

• Goodbye to an obsession with the number on the scale every morning.  Hello to a lifestyle of staying healthy and active.
• Goodbye to judging others.  Hello to loving better.
• Goodbye to treating others as less than.  Hello to respectfully reaching down and over and out to help others.
• Goodbye to wasting time that can never be recovered.  Hello to appreciating the 1,440 minutes of each day, knowing that they are a gift from God.
• Goodbye to daydreams that never develop beyond fantasy.  Hello to action.
• Goodbye to tears of regret and sadness.  Hello to tears of enormous joy and overwhelming laughter.
• Goodbye to petty jealousies and insecurities that weigh me down.  Hello to cheering for those around me knowing that their successes do not create my failures.
• Goodbye to hanging on to the past when it’s not healthy.  Hello to shedding the weight of guilt and shame.
• Goodbye to loneliness and boredom.  Hello to moving beyond my comfort zone.
• Goodbye to the prison of perfectionism.  Hello to the freedom of being who God allows me to be.
• Goodbye to being shy about celebrating life.  Hello to embracing emotions and taking chances.
• Goodbye to allowing this world to define who I am or how I should spend my time and energy.  Hello to taking my direction from God.
• Goodbye to pity parties for one.  Hello to banquets of gratitude.
• Goodbye to laziness.  Hello to resting in the spirit of God.
• Goodbye to comparisons.  Hello to individuality.
• Goodbye to fear of the known and the unknown, the future and uncertainty.  Hello to trusting God more.

Goodbye to 2017.  Hello to 2018.

Last week a dear friend gave me a copy of his latest book – a look at the birth of Christ.  As I read his writings, I came across a part of the story that has always baffled me — when the angel announced the birth of Christ to the shepherds in the fields that night.  Then a multitude of heavenly hosts praise God saying, “Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men.”

Peace on earth.  Or maybe I should say “peace on earth?”  I just don’t see it and I’ve never understood it.  When the angels proclaimed the message, there wasn’t peace on earth.  Historically there have been very few times when there wasn’t at least one war being fought somewhere on the earth.  The message came about 2,000 years ago, but the prophecy doesn’t seem to be coming true.  Any television news broadcast will tell you about the latest fighting between groups or countries.  Greed, hatred and even religion seem to constantly divide us from those around us.  If you look closer to home, we see daily conflict and senseless violence in our own city.  Are we ever going to see the peace on earth that the angels sang of?

In Matthew, Jesus Himself even tells us we will have tribulation in this world.  Yet He goes on to say that He has overcome the world and that in Him we might have peace.  The peace He refers to is an inner peace that comes from a right relationship with God through faith in Jesus Christ.  It is a peace that He gives to those who believe in Him; a peace that happens within individuals, not necessarily between countries or people groups or even family members.  So how does my inner peace relate to peace on earth?

My “aha moment” this year came as I realized that the peace on earth is my inner peace while on the earth.  Though I have tribulations.  Though the violence and hatred scream from every headline.  Though man seems to continue to destroy those around him in his never ending self-promotion.  I don’t have to wait for peace on some future day when I spend eternity in heaven.  I have peace now.  I have peace here – on earth.  No wonder the heavenly host sang out!  Finally, we can experience peace while still on this earth.

Glory to God in the highest.  Peace (within me, while I’m) on Earth. Good will toward men.

May you, this Christmas like never before, experience your own peace on earth.

Merry Christmas!

If you would like to read more: Backstage at the Manger by Dr. Nelson Price

In the last few years I’ve talked to so many couples where one or both are going through a health crisis.  Everybody reacts differently —  some cry, some go silent, some get angry.  But I’ve learned, through my own experience and that of others, that there are certain things we can do that will ultimately make things easier.  One of these things is to have the talk.

“Having the talk” means sitting down together to discuss all those things you don’t want to discuss.  This is the hard part of the talk —

— What if someone dies or is incapacitated?  Does the other one know what to do?

— Have you executed a power of attorney and a living will for while you are alive?  Do you have a will for after you’ve died?  (By the way, if it’s been several years since you’ve done this, revisit it.  Time changes people and circumstances, so make sure it still says what you want it to say.)

— Where are all the important papers — wills, deeds, bank accounts, etc.?

— Do you know how to pay the bills?  Most often one of the partners has been responsible for managing the finances, but the other partner also needs to know how to do it.

— Is there a business involved?  If so, what’s the plan if a key person can’t continue to work?

— Are there children, especially young children still at home?

— What about burial arrangements and plans?

“Having the talk” means sitting down together to say all the things you’ve been meaning to say, but haven’t found the time.  This is the tender part of the talk —

— Tell them how much you love them.

— Tell them how much they mean to you and how much they’ve added to your life.

— Forgive for all those petty shortcomings that we let slip into our daily routines.

— Tell them about your faith in God.  It will be a comfort and will bind you together.

— Pray together.

— Tell them it’s ok for them to go on living if you should be the first to go.

It’s so important to have this conversation with your spouse.  If there’s no spouse, then you probably need to have it with your adult children.  And if you absolutely can’t bring yourself to say the words, then sit down and write it out.  Because if the worst happens, the hard part of the talk will get you through all the technical things you’ll be faced with.  And the tender part of the talk will get you through all the long quiet times you will experience.

You would think that the hard part of the talk would be the hardest to do.  But for some of us, to be completely open, vulnerable and emotional is very difficult.  Do it anyway.  You won’t regret it.