My mind is spinning around several serious thoughts at the moment.
Worldliness, "stuff", need, generosity, compassion, humility
the list can go on and on. The thoughts go on and on.
It all starts when the "Christmas lists" start coming out; I have to fight my personal inclination to see them as "gimme" lists. To me, gift giving should come from the heart of the giver and should not be directed by lists of wants. There is nothing wrong with asking someone what she would like for Christmas, but when lists spontaneously appear shortly after Thanksgiving, I get irritated.
It has been my tradition to ask for donations to be made in my name. It started many years ago when I asked for scholarships to be donated to a mission in South Africa. In subsequent years, the donations have gone for cancer research and to hospice.
This year we learned of a family in our church who were about to lose their home to foreclosure. God immediately put a figure in my head and I gave that with no questions asked. I wrote to the three kids who make donations in my name each year and asked them to send a donation to the church for this family. I know that the house has been saved for now, but I do not know what kind of Christmas the three young sons had. No doubt the biggest present of all this year is their home; but I doubt they had much "under the tree".
Today at a family gathering, tens of presents were taken into the house, most for a 22-month old little girl. When I saw the stacks of packages, I had to go into the bathroom and cry, because to my eyes and my heart, it is so unnecessary. My sister also told me that her grands had had a huge Christmas.
So now I am at home fighting a bad case of righteous indignation [Many, many years ago, I learned that I felt I had a just case for righteous indignation, I was completely wrong, and in fact I was sinning big time.]
It is time for a heavy dose of St. Matthew.
"Be careful not to do your 'acts of righteousness' before men, to be seen by them. If you do, you will have no reward from your Father in heaven.
"So when you give to the needy, do not announce it with trumpets as the hypocrites do in the synagogues and on the streets to be honored by men. ... But when you give to the needy, so not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing, so that your giving may be in secret. Then your Father, who sees what is done in secret, will reward you." ---Matthew 6: 1--4.
Actually, it doesn't take a big dose of Matthew to remind one to beware of showiness and "holier than thou" garbage.
I did what was right for me. I honored God's command to give, and I creatively asked others to also give. Here endeth the lesson. I am only in charge of my own life; I would hope that my standards of giving might be shared by others, but I have no right whatsoever to be angry when they do what is their habit of doing.
Although my giving was not done in secret, I think I handled it graciously. And that is where it must end.
today's lesson: The Lord loves a humble compassionate giver.
Friday, December 25, 2009
Thursday, December 24, 2009
A Christmas salutation
This greeting is one that we have learned over the years at the Christmas Revels. It offers our gifts for each and everyone this Christmas season.
I Salute You
There is nothing I can give you which you have not; but there is much that I, while I cannot give, you can take.No heaven can come to us unless our hearts find rest in it today.
Take Heaven.
No peace lies in the future which is not hidden in this present instant.
Take Peace.
The gloom of the world is but a shadow; behind it, yet within our reach is joy.
Take Joy.
And so, at this Christmas time, I greet you with the prayer that for you, now and forever, the day breaks and the shadows flee away.
—Fra Giovanni
Thursday, October 22, 2009
Standing on a Hill
The last time I stood on the hill in Bridgeport was for Grandad's funeral in December of 1988. It was VERY cold and snowy. My cousin Randy had forgotten to bring a coat, I walked up behind him and wrapped my coat around us in an attempt to help him get warm.
Randy is now gone; the first of the first cousins to die. He died of a quick, nasty Viet Nam induced cancer. Man's inhumanity to man continues throughout the generations.
Two and a half years ago, the same company of folks gathered in Parkersburg for Dad's memorial service. He was the second of Guy and Jessie's offspring to go.
A week ago Monday we stood next to Guy and Jessie's graves beside Loretta's casket, the opening of another Ashby plot on the hill. I stood with my arm around Rodney next to the grave of his son Christopher.
I looked across at the uncles and aunt and thought of the families represented there. Somewhere in the same cemetery, Mom and Preacher Idleman are buried. The Ashby/Idleman roots are deep and widespreading. We have done a reasonably good job of staying close, although now we typically gather only for funerals.
As Dawn and I drove through Bridgeport over that weekend, I realized how much a part of my life was tied to the little town. Because Mom and Dad moved so often, the farm in Bridgeport was always a solid tie for us. Just yesterday I was telling someone a farm story. At Loretta's funeral, several people told "Egg" stories about Guy and his eggs.
Someday [when Debi is ready to let them go ;0 ], we will take June and Hugh to the same hill in Bridgeport, WV, and their lives will also be noted with a marker.
Standing on a hill in West Virginia remembering a strong, wonderful family helps the roots continue to grow deeper.
Randy is now gone; the first of the first cousins to die. He died of a quick, nasty Viet Nam induced cancer. Man's inhumanity to man continues throughout the generations.
Two and a half years ago, the same company of folks gathered in Parkersburg for Dad's memorial service. He was the second of Guy and Jessie's offspring to go.
A week ago Monday we stood next to Guy and Jessie's graves beside Loretta's casket, the opening of another Ashby plot on the hill. I stood with my arm around Rodney next to the grave of his son Christopher.
I looked across at the uncles and aunt and thought of the families represented there. Somewhere in the same cemetery, Mom and Preacher Idleman are buried. The Ashby/Idleman roots are deep and widespreading. We have done a reasonably good job of staying close, although now we typically gather only for funerals.
As Dawn and I drove through Bridgeport over that weekend, I realized how much a part of my life was tied to the little town. Because Mom and Dad moved so often, the farm in Bridgeport was always a solid tie for us. Just yesterday I was telling someone a farm story. At Loretta's funeral, several people told "Egg" stories about Guy and his eggs.
Someday [when Debi is ready to let them go ;0 ], we will take June and Hugh to the same hill in Bridgeport, WV, and their lives will also be noted with a marker.
Standing on a hill in West Virginia remembering a strong, wonderful family helps the roots continue to grow deeper.
Sunday, October 11, 2009
A Life of One's Own
Dawn and I are in Bridgeport, WV, for my Aunt Loretta Ashby's funeral tomorrow. Visitation at the funeral home today was from 2 to 4 and 6 to 8. People started lining up at the funeral home at 1:45 and the lines continued through 4 pm. Life under Jessie Ashby had to be difficult; no woman was ever good enough for an Ashby man. Lil and Bill escaped to Indiana in the 1950s; but when Tom and Loretta married they moved in at the farm. Loretta was under Jessie's constant scrutiny, and was expected to be a full-fledged farmer's wife.
Loretta worked incredibly hard in the barns and chicken coops. As Guy and Jessie aged, Tom and Loretta became increasingly responsible for them. And indeed moved to Corbin Branch Road to care for them. It was not an easy existence.
Loretta was able to create her own identity away from the farm. The stories I heard today were of a woman who would spend the night with a dying neighbor so she wouldn't be alone, who worked diligently with the 4-Hers in Bridgeport, who became a well-respected member of the Farm Women's group of West Virginia. A compassionate neighbor who all but adopted a neighbor girl who disparately needed to be loved and cared for.
Jessie accused my mother of tricking Dad into marrying her by getting pregnant. Mom and Dad had a short courtship and married in Texas away from the scrutiny of the family. When Mom had a miscarriage 5 months into the marriage, Jessie felt vindicated that this stranger from Ohio had tricked her son. Only 40 years later could Jessie tell my mother that she had been a good influence on Dad.
I will never know what actually went on between Jessie and Loretta, but today I learned that despite all odds, Loretta was able to become her own woman outside the confines of the farm.
Since I was able to do the same thing in my own first marriage, through my church and through my college, I have the utmost respect for Loretta Sayres Ashby.
Loretta was trapped by a very angry kind of Alzheimers. With her death at merely 72, she is freed from her earthly body and I know she is soaring with Eagle's wings for now and forever.
Loretta worked incredibly hard in the barns and chicken coops. As Guy and Jessie aged, Tom and Loretta became increasingly responsible for them. And indeed moved to Corbin Branch Road to care for them. It was not an easy existence.
Loretta was able to create her own identity away from the farm. The stories I heard today were of a woman who would spend the night with a dying neighbor so she wouldn't be alone, who worked diligently with the 4-Hers in Bridgeport, who became a well-respected member of the Farm Women's group of West Virginia. A compassionate neighbor who all but adopted a neighbor girl who disparately needed to be loved and cared for.
Jessie accused my mother of tricking Dad into marrying her by getting pregnant. Mom and Dad had a short courtship and married in Texas away from the scrutiny of the family. When Mom had a miscarriage 5 months into the marriage, Jessie felt vindicated that this stranger from Ohio had tricked her son. Only 40 years later could Jessie tell my mother that she had been a good influence on Dad.
I will never know what actually went on between Jessie and Loretta, but today I learned that despite all odds, Loretta was able to become her own woman outside the confines of the farm.
Since I was able to do the same thing in my own first marriage, through my church and through my college, I have the utmost respect for Loretta Sayres Ashby.
Loretta was trapped by a very angry kind of Alzheimers. With her death at merely 72, she is freed from her earthly body and I know she is soaring with Eagle's wings for now and forever.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
