New Year's Eve Tradition

There is a tradition I have had the pleasure to share at one point in my life. While I was in college, I was dating a young man who's parents are from the Dominican Republic. In my family, New Year's Eve was a time for parties and friends; I was either babysat (as a child) or was the babysitter in my teen years. I had not experienced a "family" New Year's Eve tradition until this.

Just before midnight, the women in the family prepared the glasses. They were cheap plastic champagne glasses, but that did not matter. Somehow we needed to fit 12 grapes into the glasses and then fill them with the champagne. At midnight, everyone drank the champagne and ate the grapes in their glass.

There were 6 green grapes and 6 red grapes. It was explained to me that this represented the good luck and bad luck for the year. Whatever life hands them, they took the good with the bad and trusted that God will work it all out in the end.

What a wonderful thought to start the New Year.

- ESA

I Love You

Interesting how three little words can make such a difference. When I was raised, "I love you" was reserved for two people romantically involved, and usually only in intimate moments. Yet, there was love all around: parents, siblings, children, grandparents, grandchildren, aunts, uncles, nieces, nephews, cousins, friends, close coworkers, even strangers that one helps.

Yet rarely did one say, "I love you" outside of romance.
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This holiday, I ran into many who have had a rough year, some - including myself - have even lost people dear to their hearts. As we exchanged handshakes, hugs and holiday greetings, I heard over-and-over another greeting as well: "I love you."

It felt strange; it felt good. It's hard to describe the complex feelings. It's good hearing one is loved; the reassurance is needed when life throws ugly things our way. It's good saying it to dear friends and family; we may not get the chance to say it again. Yet, it was so against the grain of how I was raised.

Why?

We should express our love. Yes, actions do speak louder than words; our behavior and actions should clearly state we love the person. But sometimes, life overwhelms our senses and we do not readily pick up on the body language or notice the kind gestures. Sometimes we really need to hear "I love you."

So...

I love you.
All. 

- ESA

2012 - The Final Frontier?

There is a great deal of speculation that the world will end next year, or that the apocalypse will happen. I can not say what the year holds; I truly do not know. I know 2011 was rough on many - vast numbers in areas of natural disasters, plus economic problems, changing governments, rise in international tensions, even very personal losses - ranging from home foreclosures to death of loved ones.

In my travels for the holiday, I do not think I have come across one person that didn't have some major loss (whether personal or part of a wide-spread disaster) this past year.

What will 2012 bring?

Many hope for the end; many believe they will be swept up in a rapture that will protect them from "hell on earth." Countless numbers wait with baited breath to see if Christ will return and the "evil ones" in our society will "get theirs." Sadly many hope for the end, for death's stillness seems more appealing to them right now than more of what they saw in 2011.

Tribulation is not "the end of the world;" it's a period of change. It can be as violent and traumatic as puberty. Yet, something more mature and a bit wiser rises from that. If we are in a period of "humanity's puberty" there are two things we need to keep in mind:

• We grow to become something better than we currently are. We have something to learn and need to change as part of it.
• We will continue; this is not the end..

While we enter into the new year, I have actually started to look forward with a positive outlook. I don't know if this will be when Christ returns. I don't know if I will see the Heavens and Earth dissipate and a new world begin. But I know we are taking some serious - and global - steps toward something new.

Change can be violent. Change can hurt. We may loose much - both in terms of personal possessions, ideals / goals, and thoughts / understandings. We may loose loved ones in this process too...

Yet, where we go really has a lot to do with our own mindset - each and everyone of us. This is not a "believe in Jesus and you will be saved" speech. This is practical analysis firmly grounded in both psychological and spiritual studies.

The more we are grateful for what we have, the more we value that which truly lasts - friends, family, connections to each other, love, and God. The more we value what lasts, the more positive our outlook becomes. The more positive an outlook we have, the more we can see our blessings and shake off our desires for material things and passing fame this world tries to sell us. The more we free ourselves from the fetters that bind us (a part of the Lord's prayer), the more we can establish further and stronger connections to the Divine and each other. The more we see good things in each other, instead of evil and enemies, the more we help each other become children of God. The more we help each other become children of God, only through mutual work, the more we become what God created us to be.

On the other hand, the more we focus on fear, the more we will fear each other. The more we fear each other, the further we become. The further we become, the less we understand each other. The less we understand each other; the more we see others as our enemy - lines are drawn. The more lines that are drawn, the more wars there will be. The more wars there are, the more people will suffer and die. The more people suffer and die, the more fear rises to our mind. And the viscous cycle repeats itself as the adversary laughs in delight at our misery.

Remember: Only together we achieve something far greater than the sum of our individual efforts; the adversary seeks to divide for that will block us from achieving God's will: being the Children of God.

In 2012, which will we focus on? Each and every mind DOES make a difference, despite the ego telling us we are too small; despite the world telling us we are not enough. We are enough - as long as we believe. God is with us. When we do God's Will; we will not fail, regardless of what we see with our eyes when the world resists the changes to come.

- ESA

Holiday Brake

Yes, I mean "brake" and not "break." Last night, I lost the brakes on my old Jeep. Some may curse and gripe that life threw them yet another (and possibly expensive!) problem to take care of -- during the holidays when they were away from home. Last night, I got down on my knees and thanked God and any of His workers that helped me yesterday.

My husband and I were picking up a friend of ours who was home-bound and driving to an inexpensive restaurant to meet a group of other friends we haven't seen in a year or more. On the way, I noticed my breaks suddenly went VERY soft, where I needed to press the pedal deeper each time I "tapped" the brakes in the traffic flow.

I didn't know if we were going to make it to the restaurant. Our friend, an elderly woman, was seated in the passenger side beside me. An accident, even a slight one where the airbag would go off in her face, would likely be lethal to her. We were driving after dark on Long Island; New York drivers - including myself - are atrocious as they cut you off suddenly, weave in and out of traffic and travel at LEAST 20 MPH above the speed limit - including local roads.

We decided to avoid the highway and I cruised -- what felt like a "crawl" -- along a main thoroughfare. I left a LOT of space before me, which only encouraged the other drivers to cut in front of me often. I coasted to a slow stop at each traffic light, annoying the drivers behind me.

I had my hand on the emergency brake the whole time. I apparently drive single-handedly quite well.

It didn't occur to me until just now, while I wrote that last sentence, how often I do that with my relationship with God. There are times when I fly by life, ignoring the limits even - or at least going "a little" beyond them. Yet, when something happens that I realize there IS real danger out there - I hold on God's Hand as tightly as I held on to that emergency brake. God is there, then and when I cruise with no concerns, just as much as the emergency brake that's been in the Jeep all along.

Needless to say, not only did we make it safely to the restaurant, we also had added blessings. A friend that takes public transit was able to find another ride home, as we could not take her as planned. Because others showed up at the restaurant, unplanned, they were able to take our passenger back to her place too. Plus a friend was able to help us get a tow back to my mother's house, much further than our AAA membership would have gotten us. We were grateful for these as well.

There are many blessings in life, sometimes we become too blind in our gripes of what went wrong to see them. Sometimes we also blind ourselves to God's Hand right there beside us in easy reach.

Yet, it is always there.

- ESA 

Convert!

Following Home for the Holiday blogpost, there has been a word bouncing around my head: Convert. I read a tweet where someone suggested I was trying to convert Jews to Christianity, which I denied. I still stand by what I said: I am not called to "convert." Yet what I should have added: I am called to SHARE!

One time at a large fair near us, I was curious about a group that had a tent with "Jesus" written in negative (where parts of the outline were in black and the letters were the same color as the background). Above it read a sign: "Can you see what it says?" So I walked up and said I could. They asked three more riddles, giving me the answers and then I was called into the presence of the woman in the back of the tent. She told me how I was saved by Jesus, how I should now confess all my sins, repent, read the Word and Believe! She read a passage from one of the four main gospels and then had me bow my head while we prayed together for forgiveness. Not once did they ever ask if I believed or was a fellow follower of Christ. Then she instructed me to write down something along the lines of: "Thank You, Jesus, for saving me and opening my eyes today." I, being stubborn, wrote down what was in my heart, "Thank You for the opportunity to take a moment from a fair, and turn to You with another in prayer."

The woman was outraged!

This was NOT what she wanted to see. She scolded me and said that she wanted me to write it over. She even crumpled it up and tossed it away! I noted the stack of written testimonials she had behind her. I refused and got tossed out of the tent. Why didn't I write the words she wanted? My eyes weren't opened that day; I was a Christian already. Or did my eyes open a bit more following that experience?

What I saw saddened me: sharing the Good News (definition of "Gospel") and Love of Yeshua / Jesus had become a ... video game. It was more important to score "points" by counting the number of people you "converted" than it was sharing what we are called to share. Even Atheists use the word "convert" when they convince another to believe as they do.

In complete honesty, I don't think God or Christ gives a fig what "religion" you are. How we behave, how we treat each other and how we work on our relationship with God are what gives us our measure in this life. 

Gandhi was a remarkable and noteworthy follower of Christ's teachings; he was also a Hindu! I have no doubt he is sharing in Christ's feast in Heaven among many others. 

I believe also that we are called to share. Yes, we can share the Word, but the actual tool we should use to teach is a far greater one: our example. Do we share God's Love for another? Do we reach out in compassion? Do we help another to their feet or step over them as we climb the mountain? Do we condemn another to hell (or wish them there) or do we forgive them and try to see some good inside them despite what the world tells us is there? Do we forgive another even when they don't apologize or "repent"? Do we divide what we believe are sinners and saints or do we Trust God, as Yeshua / Jesus trusted, and let God's Wisdom make the determination? Do we Love all, or just Love the people who we believe deserve our love?

We are not God; nor are we God's Judges. Why do we then continue to divide the world along religious lines and insist that if another is not inside our circle; they are to be condemned? The adversary seeks to divide. For only when we work together can humanity do far more than the sum of our individual efforts. God seeks to unite us; Christ calls us to be brothers and sisters - as ONE. Which calling are we following?

Instead of "converting", we should let God's Love flow through us, showing compassion to another. We should let Christ's Forgiveness flow through us, forgiving each other, where we truly find our own forgiveness. We should let God's Mercy be a light that shines in our actions. We should teach through example...   after all   ....politicians and salespeople use words.

Love one another.

Feed the sheep.

Forgive.

- ESA

Holiday Travel

While I travel place to place over this holiday and make even more plans for MORE travel to visit far-flung friends and family, a small thought occurred to me: a comparison of my own holiday travels to that of Yeshua/Jesus. Granted I don't know if Hanukkah was a holiday that involved travel of any great distances, especially in the cooler weather, I recall He did travel for Jewish holidays when possible, including a visit to Jerusalem for the Passover.

The gatherings and travel in those days may not have been that different from our own travels today, with the exception of less worn footwear:

• There were plans to be made well in advance of the holiday.
• Word had to be sent ahead that one would be traveling and would need a place to stay.
• Packing had to be done, and figuring out what had to stay back because it just wouldn't fit.
• Plans needed to be made for the business or work that would not be done while one was away for the holiday.
• Along the journey, there were "pit-stops", crying children, quarrels, laughter, and long conversations.
• Journeys done "in caravan" (a term we still use today) with family and/or friends were always more fun and easier to take.
• Sometime overnight accommodations needed to be made en route, because the longer journeys could not be done in one day.
• While traveling, one would eat meals with others around you who were complete strangers. One may even share a brief conversation with those seated nearby.
• There can also be moments of tedium when stories or games could help while away the hours.
• When one arrived, greetings from much-loved but little-seen friends and family rang beautiful in the ears. Hours would be spent "catching up."

When I was a child, we had long journeys to visit family on the holidays and we played traffic-bingo, I-spy, and word games such as naming places that started with the last letter of the last place-name mentioned. We had conversations and recalled stories of bygone days. There was also my parent's favorite game - "Who can stay quiet the longest?" (For some reason, I never won that game. LoL) We ate lunch in diners, restaurants or fast-food establishments, and stayed at hotels en route to the place. When we arrived, we slept on couches or sleeping bags on the floor; we stayed up half the night catching up with aunts, uncles, grandparents and cousins.
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When I originally traveled solo by air, I would converse with fellow travelers both at the airports and on the plane. Now...
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I travel with my laptop and paperback to read. There are portable DVD players, smart phones, portable video games, and many more distractions. We do not talk with fellow travelers - whether they are strangers or even our own immediate family. Even during a visit, it's hard NOT to take some time to check email, go online, or get some work done. This is pretty sad as that is what connects us: these shared face-to-face moments together, retelling our past, planning our future, and meeting new people.
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Things are done so fast, so far apart, so ... separate...
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This holiday - and I need to do this too (considering I'm blogging on the breakfast table) - maybe we can all spare some more time re-connecting to those around us face-to-face, whether friend, family or stranger. Golden moments that can last across generations.
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- ESA

Home for the Holiday

It is sad when there are so many dividing lines in the world. When I stumble across the ones in my own life, I sit back and wonder why they are even there. As I have just mentioned to someone on Twitter, while I was raised Christian, I grew up in a Jewish neighborhood. So wishing others a Happy Hanukkah did not seem wrong to me at all... until I was accused of possibly trying to convert them to Christianity.

*Sigh*

The home where I was raised had a Mezuzah beside the door, like every other house in my neighborhood. It was there when we first moved in. When my dad explained what was inside, it reminded me of the words I read in our Old Testament. No biggie - same writing / same God.

While we were one of three families with tree and Christmas lights, in a neighborhood of over 300, I wondered why we didn't have a Menorah glowing in our front window like all the rest. It was explained that we were Christian, not Jewish. That was the first dividing line.

Around our Easter celebration, I actually looked forward to matzo in the supermarket - I used to nibble them row-by-row as a child for a snack. There was also my neighbor's famous matzo ball soup when we sat down to the Passover Seder with them, unless it fell on Easter, at which point we had family gatherings for our holiday that day. Another fine dividing line.

In December, there were many craft and holiday flea markets held selling goods. My mom was a shop-a-holic. So after-school we were dragged to many different places to attend these events. They were many in the local temples, one at our Catholic school in the gym, and one in a parish hall from a Mormon Church. While I and my siblings towed behind my mother from table to table at these events, I had plenty of time to examine the stuff that hung from the walls. I can't read Hebrew, nor could I then. So I asked my mother about the writing in symbols that looked closer to Chinese in my young eyes than the Greco-Roman letters in which I read/write. She explained they were Hebrew and that is what the Jewish teachings were written in. We don't speak or read it because we were not Jewish. Another dividing line.

When I was still in grade school (where I attended Catholic school from grades 1-8), I received my Confirmation. Friends of ours attended it, even though they were not Christian. We also attended their Bar/Bat Mitzvahs too. In fact, several of our class trips in the later grades were to the temple to learn about Judaism. While I heard rumors that the Hebrew grade school did the same as part of a cooperative program with our Church, the majority of the kids in our area attended public school. They found our ceremonies strange and bizarre while we had some vague notion of what theirs were about. After all, Jesus, the focus of our own religious education, had celebrated Jewish holidays and practiced Jewish customs. But my neighbors understood little about our customs and holidays. Another dividing line.

High school wasn't fun for me; I attended an all-girl Catholic Academy. But unlike grade school, I had to take two school buses. I was picked up by the local high-school bus, that rounded up ALL the high-school children in the area - public, Catholic and Hebrew schools. The majority of the public school kids were Jewish. While there was more than one Catholic high school kids in my town attended, overall, in our neighborhood, we made up less than 10% and had to wear these atrocious uniforms. I believe the Hebrew school had uniforms or a dress-code too, but they were not as glaringly obvious as the plaid skirts, ties and school color blazers and sweaters with the school emblems on them. A very obvious dividing line.

We ALL were dropped off at the public school. Then the public school kids went inside (or at least had to be inside by the first bell). The rest of us stood outside as our second bus would travel from town-to-town picking up the kids for our respective high school. While this may have made sense to some administrator, it was torture for us. We had to wear clothes that distinguished us as "separate" from the others, and we were major targets for bullies, teasing and bad-mouthing both on the bus and at the public high school. Why? Because we were not Jewish. They outnumbered us; we were supposed to always forgive, so they assumed there would be no retaliation as well. We had no other way to get to our school; we had to share the ride on "their" bus. At the public school, we had to stay put while they had the opportunity to walk away when they wanted to. They would ask: Why were we living in the neighborhood anyway? It was a JEWISH neighborhood! Christians were not welcome. Even the local "Y" was a YMHA, not a YMCA.

Why were we there? My father worked hard for a living, went to night school to get a law degree and then worked long hours in "the city" (New York City) to earn a good enough living to have a big house in a nice neighborhood for his family. There was no application indicating what religious affiliation we had to have to buy the house. That would be illegal - this is America, home of religious freedom. Right? The other Christians we knew had homes half the size or smaller. Why could we not live in that neighborhood in a big house for a big family?

In the years to follow, I observed further divisions. It was OK to have friends across that religious line. It may even be acceptable to date across the dividing line, if someone better is not available. But one would never assume it's OK to marry across the dividing line... "Think of the kids; they would be confused," was an argument I heard many times - from both sides of the fence. Yet it's the same God...

*Sigh* That was three to four DECADES ago: over a generation.

I don't hold grudges; I am called not to. What was in the past stays in the past - as it should! Hate and division only begets hate, war and violence. None of which I want.

Times have changed, thankfully for the better. In my lifetime, I have seen a growing acceptance across many lines - race, religious and sexual preferences being predominant. There has become a stronger division in political and income lines in these past few years, though. My heart longs to see these reversed too...

I followed my mom back to Long Island Monday, as we are visiting with friends and family here this week as part of our holiday travel. On the way we stopped at the local strip mall to pick up a few items. In the large window before me, the local florist had a winter-scape display with a large menorah predominantly at the center with the correct number of candles aglow. Tuesday at the bowling alley as we were heading out the door, I spied the manager turning the bulb to "light" the last candle as sunset dimmed an already rainy afternoon. I am still a Christian and will always be, but these sights made me feel like "home for the holiday" more than I can express, as much as the scent of a freshly decorated Christmas tree.

We are all brothers and sisters in this world. One race, one humanity. Why do we keep dividing ourselves?

-ESA

Road to Bethlehem (Story)

The open-backed pickup truck swerved and bounced over the uneven pavement, mercilessly jostling the passengers seated in the back. One of Mary's hands held tight to the side of the truckbed with a deathgrip, fingers numb in the icy wind. Her other hand rested on her swollen belly, trying to will peace and comfort to her unborn as she tried to keep curses for travels woes from her mind - in vain.

Joe looked up across the truckbed from her. His thin coat wasn't keeping the chill from his bones; it didn't help that the zipper was long since broken. The wind tousled his hair as he reached across and gave her hand an affectionate squeeze over her womb. "Sorry about the car, Mary. Maybe we'll find someone to help fix 'er in the next town."

Mary bit her lip as tears welled in her eyes; damn these hormones! She wanted to rage about the car, the fact that they couldn't afford to get it fixed sooner, the fact that her whole life really sucked right now. Damn it! She was only 17! She should be making plans for the prom, hanging out with her friends after school, and celebrating the holdiay with family. Not this... Not alone...

But she wasn't alone. She had Joe.

Joe wasn't the father of her child; a boy her own age was. But the moment she told him she was pregnant, he dropped her like a rock. Worse, he tarred her reputation - both in school and online. Her friends all told her to get an abortion, but she couldn't. Something inside her soul treasured life too much to kill something. There WAS life inside her; she felt it move, felt the child roll over, knew when it slept. She didn't even know if it was to be a boy or girl. There were no visits to the doctor since the first trimester; there was no insurance to pay for it. Clinics asked too many questions...

Her parents tossed her out soon after the boy dumped her. They called her a slut, a whore. And a lot worse. She went to the local shelter; it was OK the first few days. Then she drew the eyes of some men there. They assumed that if she was already pregnant, it didn't matter; she couldn't conceive twice. And if she was in that position, she must be an "easy girl." She wasn't, but they didn't take "No!" for an answer...

She pushed those memories roughly aside. She had Joe now.

She looked at Joe, studying his features as he watched the winding road ahead. He was older than her, in his late twenties. She was fond of him and found herself fascinated by him.

After the shelter, Mary had wandered from place to place around Philadelphia, looking for a safe place to rest at night and collecting cans from the garbage during the day to earn money for food - a task that grew increasingly difficult as her pregnancy swelled. While she was still living "on the streets" she ran into Joe, who was in town on some business. He offered to take her in and let her stay in his spare bedroom - no strings attached, no questions asked.

And he meant that. He didn't have much himself, just a two-bedroom apartment north of Philadelphia. He cleaned out the second room which was originally used as a improv workshop. He was a woodworker by trade. During the day, he worked as a carpenter with the Allentown union, traveling all over the area on a wide range of construction jobs. When he had some time, though, he loved wittling wood into the most remarkable figurines. Some he would sell through friends at the local flea market, but most were gifts for friends and family. Mary enjoyed the room. It was warm, safe... and now the scent of sawdust and wood shavings brought her comfort.

Given their age differences, he made no advances on Mary. She was someone in need and he was able to help - somewhat. He had little in savings. His income provided food, clothing, heat and paid the bills, but the car was old and temperamental. While he had health insurance, he could not offer any to Mary. The state would not extend Medicaid unless she divulged her personal information; Mary was adamant that she didn't want to answer all those questions - again! So, despite all his pleadings, there was no doctor to see for the sake of her child and herself. He borrowed several books from the library and they poured over the information in them for hours - together.

Another hard bump sent pain shooting up Mary's spine. Damn this road! A shouted apology came from the overcrowded cab of the pickup truck. There were already three people squeezed across the bench seat; the truck owner, his pregnant wife and their small son in a car seat. Thus Mary and Joe had to ride in the back.

"We're here," Joe breathed as he pointed to a sign that read, "Welcome to Bethlehem." Darkness had fallen on the ride and Mary looked through the plumes of exhales as they entered the town. It was decorated for the holiday with many lights and greenery. Cars were piled with gifts and people and there was activity everywhere. This was a good sign.

They tried station after gas station, but there wasn't an available mechanic to be found. It was Christmas Eve after all; everyone had gone home to family. At the last station, the truck owner shuffled his feet as he stood near Joe. "Look. I know it ain't much, but you folks can come over to our place. We haven't much, and are filled up with a houseful of guest ourselves. But we have this huge barn out back. There's a kerosene heater out there for the horses and cattle. Our guests will be willing to spare a couple of cots, and it will be quiet - and private. We'll make sure you are warm and well fed." He nodded in Mary's direction, and added more quietly, "She needs to stop for the night. We can't run around looking for hotels at this hour in this weather. We've got a snowstorm coming from the west and we both know all the hotels will be full on Christmas Eve..."

Numb with cold and the weight of the decision; Joe nodded silently.

"Alrighty then," the man punctuated the statement with a strong rap to the top of the cab's roof, "Let's go home."

Dinner was a busy, noisy crowded sensation. The man's family was large and there was a gaggle of siblings, their children, as well as their parents. Fights between bickering cousins were blocked by teenager's earbuds as they lost themselves either texting or online. Adults traded stories and recipes, laughter and tears. Many hands helped in preparing, serving and cleaning up the dinner. There was a whole separate table set up for the kids in the other room, and yet some of the diners had to take their plates over to the living room to find seating there. It was truly a full house.

Before dessert was even served, Mary was exhausted and desperately in need of some quiet. Her back hurt. Her head hurt. While the chill wore off from her fingers and toes, her fingers still held a puffyness that she frowned about. Her middle ACHED. As much as she was grateful for the hospitality, she wanted AWAY from this loud, large, noisy family.

Joe caught the look in her eyes and spoke quietly with their host. He nodded to his wife and she ran upstairs to gather the extra blankets and down-filled quilts as he led them out to the barn. The man's breath plumed in the air as the falling snow hissed around them. "We're setting you folks up in the manger. We normally open up the loft to folks, but in your condition, miss, you ought not go climbing up ladders."

"The MANGER!" Mary responded aghast. "Is that some kind of joke. I know it's Christmas Eve and all, mister, but that's a pretty bad joke."

The man paused midstep, initially taken aback by her vehement response, blinking owlishly. But only for a moment, then he grinned as understanding dawned. He laughed easily, clearly taking it as though it were a joke on himself. "Oh. Er. No. I think you misunderstand. It's not what you think, miss."

He opened the smaller side door for them and let them enter into the barn. The scents of animals - cows and horses, fresh hay, kerosene and manure - greeted them as they entered. The man snapped the lightswitch beside the door and fluorescent lights overhead glowed to life. The kerosene heater on the well-swept rocky outcropping - well away from the hay - did indeed keep the place warm despite the snowstorm outside.

The man led the guests past a few stalls to an oversized alcove. There was thick beams of wood floor to ceiling on three sides; the forth side opened wide to the walkway they were on. It was both quite deep and wide, roughly the size of two generously sized stalls. The floor was covered thick with hay, at least a foot deep, deeper in the corners.

"This is our manger. It's where the cows drop their calves and the mares drop their foals. Many folks think of the Nativity scene when they hear the word "manger." They think of a feeding trough. It's not, its a place for birthing. A place where life begins!"

At that moment his wife came bustling in with some towels and scented guest soap in her arms. Behind her many of the household guests brought the cots, blankets, a folding table and other items that may make them comfortable. Even a small black and white TV with rabbit ear antenna was dragged out. Mary raised a brow at that antediluvian entertainment, much to the chagrin of Joe. He remembered his grandmother had something like that.

After the family saw them settled, they returned to the house to continue their revelries. Joe passed Mary a plate with a slice of apple pie and a warm mug of apple cider. "They seem like nice folks."

"Yeah." Mary said, too tired to hold up her end of the conversation. Still famished despite the fatigue, she popped a piece of pie into her mouth. Then the first contraction hit. *NO!*

Joe noted her panicked look and immediately dropped to her side, "What's wrong?"

"It's probably nothing."

"No. That was something. Damn. If that car didn't break down we would be home by now. Why did we have to head out today! The ride out here was probably too much for you..."

"Damn it, Joe! I said it's ---" Then her water broke, spreading across the bedspread and down her pants legs. She got up to head the toilet, thinking half-awake that her bladder suddenly gave way, but as she stood another contraction hit. She sank to her cot with a panicked look in Joe's direction. "Joe... I... I think it's time."

He took her hand with one of his, while he tried to dial 911 on his cell with the other. She reached for the phone. "No! No hospital! I can't afford it! No insurance! I don't want questions! I ... I can't go through all that again! Please..."

Torn with indecision, Joe got up and pulled on his coat. "I'm at least going to notify the family. We have to have some help." In a few moments, he was back with the wife and her sister in tow.

The sister immediately went to work - all business. "Now listen Mary, not only am I an EMT, I'm a midwife. We're not going to force you to go to the hospital - though I strongly suggest that you do." She paused to make sure that sunk in; Mary would not budge on her decision. "Then you need to listen to everything I tell you to do; I'll do my best to make sure you both get through this process. Now first we're going to work on your breathing; you'll need to get that down and under control very soon..."

The night was long and filled with the babble of voices and cries of pain. Cows lowed and horses whinnied in response; they knew instinctively the sounds of childbirth and the labor of love that it was. It was a strange place to deliver a baby, but in a place where other life also began -- it seemed to be the most fitting place of all.

In the afternoon, Joe sat down beside Mary's cot. She was holding her newborn son up to her breast to feed him, reveling in the newness of it all. The feel of the milk flowing from her, the ache in her middle and birth canal, the rippling of the womb as it started to shrink, the soft warm weight in her arms, the scent of a newborn child - her child. It was all here. It was all real.

Joe kissed her on her forehead and quietly asked, "What will you name him?"

"I... I don't know."

"Well, he needs a name. He can't be called 'the baby' when he reaches school or he'll be bullied the rest of his life."

Mary chuckled gently, "I know. I just don't know what to name him. My mind is completely blank. I'm so ... tired .. but a peaceful tired. Y'know what I mean."

Joe stifled a yawn and nodded; it was a long night. "Can I make a suggestion?"

Mary looked up and met his eyes. "Sure, but I can't guarantee I'll use it."

"Deal."  Joe looked away shyly and shuffled his feet and legs in the hay, settling himself more comfortably beside her cot. "My great-grandfather had an old name that ... well, it fits this kid's situation. They called him "Manny" but that was an shortening of his real name."

"Which was?"

"Emmanuel."

Mary watched Joe silently until he looked up at her again. He was serious. He wasn't making a joke out of the situation. Mary looked away and thought quietly about it.

"It means 'God is with us.'" Joe added. "I just thought after all we've been through, after all you've been through, things still turned out OK. I found you in the city. There was enough money so we can both get by. Even when the car broke down, good people found us. They gave us a ride, helped us out, even gave us a place to stay when we had no where else to go. Even in your stubbornness of not going to the hospital - like you should have - somehow, just SOMEhow, we ended up with a midwife to help you through the delivery. There was even all the stuff you needed for a newborn HERE, because the wife is expecting too. You can't PLAN all this, even if you tried. God is with us."

"Emmanuel..." Mary said softly, trying the name out as she gazed down at the child suckling at her breast.

The babe opened his eyes at that moment, looked up into Mary's, and smiled a beautiful smile. A trickle of milk dribbled out of his toothless grin.

Mary dabbed it with the corner of a feeding cloth the wife had given her. "Emmanuel."

The baby burbled happily.

Mary smiled with tears welling in her eyes. She looked up at Joe joyously, "I think he likes it. I really think he likes the name. We gotta use it. If he likes it. Not many kids get a say in how they're named. Right?"

Joe just nodded wordlessly and hugged Mary's shoulders.

"Emmanuel." Mary said again, turning to her babe, "God is with us - through it all."

Mary / Miriam / Maria

While I had a busy day at work yesterday, I found my thoughts turned often to Mary, also known as Miriam & Maria, the mother of Yeshua / Jesus the Christ. What was it like for her? What was it like to hear the angel's message? What was it like to go through nine long months of pregnancy ... wondering? What was is like in the days just before delivering the One who will deliver all?

I have no doubts Mary was quite human, though many worldwide worship her with near-goddess - or even fully goddess - reverence. Queen of Heaven. Mother of God. But in the beginning, she was no greater than you or I.

What was it like for her?

To be called to do something by God is both humbling and awe-inspiring. There is this rush that Wow! I can do something great, but there is also the overwhelming questions: Why me? Why now? Why in this way?

I have never had a pregnancy that lasted to full term, but I have seen many women struggling in the last trimester leading up to the birth. There are backaches, swollen ankles and feet, bloating and an underlying desire to "get it over with" near the very end. I doubt humanity has changed that much in over two-thousand years and Mary likely went through the same. Or did she?

There are some that believe that because she carried God's Son that there was no discomfort, there was no pain in the birthing process, there was only the wonder of God surrounding her. I tend to think differently. She was human. Yeshua came as fully-human too. I am certain that which most women experience in pregnancy, Mary did also.

Then there came the time to travel. Why then of all times?!? As she packed her clothes and the items she needed following the delivery, she did not slide into a comfortable heated car seat after promising her mother that she'll call when she arrived. She had to ride upon a lurching donkey. Her mother and family were far away - several days travel - and there was no means to contact them for comfort when her time came. She must have been terrified.

Yet, I am sure there was also this element of Trust. God started this. God will see her through. It did not mean that there was not worry and fear, it just meant that she would be able to get through it. Like we can too with that same Trust.

At the delivery there was pain and blood, as there is in all human births. Unlike the days of my birth, I have a feeling Joseph wasn't "waiting outside" during the delivery. I believe he was there, holding her hand, mopping her sweating brow, stroking back her matted hair, giving her the strength and courage to get through the delivery. There was Love radiating from them as Yeshua drew his first shaky breath of our air and screamed protest as any newborn child fresh from a mother's womb would do.

Then, once cleaned up and wrapped in swaddling clothes to protect the child - items Mary brought with her in preparation for this moment, there was the bond of mother and child. The first time her eyes saw Him; the first moment she held Him in her arms.

There would be cries of hunger, dirty diapers and scraped knees, seeing him through illness, education and play, disagreements as a teenager, and letting her child grow into a man, but in that first moment, there was finally Peace.

Hands Up!

There is a pretty cool tradition (pun intended) in New England, where I now reside. Starting in October, there are hundreds of 3-4-foot (~ 1 meter) wooden posts impaled all around walkways, driveways and parking lots. They need to be up before the ground freezes and hopefully (but not always) before the first major snowfall.

Those of my readers in colder climes may immediately recognize what these wooden stakes are. Sometimes they are not wood, but metal, and in some places they are a lot higher than four feet (over one meter).

These are snow stakes used to guide shovels and snowplows when clearing the area after a snowfall. Otherwise, we may not know where the boundaries are under a beautiful pristine blanket of snow.

But on to the tradition I've only seen in New England (though I sincerely hope it's elsewhere as it's brilliant and beautifully practical). The tradition goes as this: if you find a mitten, hat or scarf on the ground, sidewalk, parking lot, etc. You locate the nearest snow stake and stick it atop the stake.

This way the owner can return to the area and locate it, even after a few inches of snow has fallen and covered up everything else on the ground.

As I said, very practical.

It's a small, simple way people take a moment out of their own busy lives to help another. Granted not every glove finds the owner by the end of winter, and by spring there are several gloves and mittens waving to the warming sun. But I've also seen mothers rescue a baby's mitten from a snowstake after a child tossed it from the stroller. I've seen an elderly man retrieve his hat that he didn't know dropped from his pocket when the afternoon turned warm.

Little gestures, people helping others without a thought of recognition.

Beautiful lights in this world.

Gift Exchange

When I was a young girl, around grade school if I correctly recall, I asked my father why we exchange gifts on Christmas. The holiday, after all, was "Jesus' Birthday." What he told me was profound enough to be remembered over several decades, well past his life here. I still remember those words today: 

We are supposed to see Jesus in each other, thus we give gifts to Him through each other.

While many of us go through our shopping lists, we may make the effort to find and present the "perfect" gift for the person we see. Yet, are we seeing Christ inside them? Or have we fallen into the habit of gift-giving where Christmas becomes a second birthday for everyone?

I ask my readers this, and pray I don't forgot to do this myself. What WOULD Yeshua/Jesus want? Would He truly desire an iPad or smart-phone? Would He wish for another sweater? Or would the greatest gift we present be our presence?

Think about this a minute.

When Mary sat at the feet of Christ listening to Him and just being there with him, did He not prefer this instead of being served as Mary's sister asked her to do? Does He want gifts that be wrapped in paper or purchased with plastic? Or does He want our company?

Yes, this means taking time in prayer and sitting quietly to listen. It may even involve reading His words.

But it also means seeing Christ in others and giving our time, our ear, our presence to them as an even greater present. It will be one that will be remembered well beyond our years here, truly a gift we CAN take with us.

When we make our plans for the holiday, what will we give others for the one Who's birth we celebrate?

- ESA 

Christmas Letter from Jesus/Yeshua

This belongs with the other two posts below. Again, this is an email received that I wish to share. While it is not my intention to negate the messages of the other two, I wanted to give my readers additional food for thought during the Christmas season.

-ESA

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It has come to my attention that many of you are upset that folks are taking my name out of the season.

How I personally feel about this celebration can probably be most easily understood by those of you who have been blessed with children of your own. I don't care what you call the day. If you want to celebrate my birth, just get along and love one another. 

Now, having said that, let me go on. If it bothers you that the town in which you live doesn't allow a scene depicting my birth, then just get rid of a couple of santa's and snowmen and put in a small Nativity scene on your own front lawn or front windows. If all my followers did that there wouldn't be any need for such a scene on the town square because there would be many of them all around town.

Stop worrying about the fact that people are calling the tree a holiday tree, instead of a Christmas tree. It was my Father who made all trees. You can remember me anytime you see a tree. Decorate a grape vine if you wish, as that demonstrates my relation to you and what each of our tasks are.

If you want to give me a present in remembrance of my birth, here is my wish list. Choose something from it: 

• Instead of writing protest letters objecting to the way my birthday is being celebrated, write letters of love and hope to those in prison, hospitals, and/or soldiers away from home. They are terribly afraid and lonely this time of year. I know; they tell me this.

• Visit someone in a nursing home or someone home-bound. You don't have to know them personally. They just need to know that someone cares about them.

• Instead of writing the President complaining about the wording on cards his staff sent out this year, why don't you write and tell him that you'll be praying for him and his family this year. Then follow up... It will be nice hearing from you again.

• Instead of giving your children a lot of gifts you can't afford and they don't need, spend time with them. Tell them the story of my birth, and why I came to live with you down there. Hold them in your arms and remind them that I love them too.

• Pick someone that has hurt you in the past and forgive him or her.

• Did you know that someone in your town will attempt to take their own life this season because they feel so alone and hopeless? Since you don't know who that person is, try giving everyone you meet a warm smile; it could make the difference.

• Instead of nit picking about what the retailer in your town calls the holiday, be patient with the people who work there. Give them a warm smile and a kind word. Even if they aren't allowed to wish you a "Merry Christmas" that doesn't keep you from wishing them one.

• While many feast on Thanksgiving and Christmas and nibble cookies and other treats between the two, many others are hungry, eating cat food or moldy food from the "bargain" racks at the back of the supermarket. Use some of the funds you would buy luxury treats for yourself and pick up a case of canned soup or boxed pasta to donate to the local food bank. The shelves are emptier each year as more people can't afford the basics for their families.

• If you really want to make a difference, support a missionary. They take my love and good news to those who have never heard my name. Many also provide means for clean water, better shelters, education, means of income... things many who read this take for advantage in their lives.

• Here's a good one. There are individuals and whole families in your town who not only will have no "Christmas" tree, but neither will they have any presents to give or receive. If you don't know them, buy some food and a few gifts and give them to local churches, police stations, and many charitable organizations who distribute them for you. If you keep your eyes open, many stores now have boxes near the registers waiting for these gifts.

• Finally, if you want to make a statement about your belief in and loyalty to me, then behave like one of my followers. Don't do things in secret that you wouldn't do in my presence. Let people know by your actions that you are one of mine.

Don't forget, I can take care of myself. Just love me and do what I have asked you to do. I'll take care of the rest. Check out the list above and get to work; time is short. I'll help you, but the ball is now in your court. 

And do have a most blessed Christmas with all those you love and remember.

Feel free to share; this was sent by a friend.

I LOVE YOU!

~ Jesus / Yeshua

Ben Stein Commentary

This is a copy of a commentary I found recently that I wanted to share with the posts above and below. This was written and read by Ben Stein on CBS Sunday Morning.

- ESA 

 __________________________________________________________________________

My confession:

I am a Jew, and every single one of my ancestors was Jewish. And it does not bother me even a little bit when people call those beautiful lit up, bejeweled trees "Christmas trees." I don't feel threatened. I don't feel discriminated against. That's what they are, Christmas trees.
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It doesn't bother me a bit when people say, "Merry Christmas" to me. I don't think they are slighting me or getting ready to put me in a ghetto. In fact, I kind of like it. It shows that we are all brothers and sisters celebrating this happy time of year. it doesn't bother me at all that there is a manger scene on display at a key intersection near my beach house in Malibu. If people want a creche, it's just as fine with me as is the Menorah a few hundred yards away.

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I don't like getting pushed around for being a Jew, and I don't think Christians like getting pushed around for being Christians. I think people who believe in God are sick and tired of getting pushed around, period. I have no idea where the concept came from, that America is an explicitly atheist country. I can't find it in the Constitution and I don't like it being shoved down my throat!
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Or maybe I can put it another way: where did the idea come from that we should worship celebrities and we aren't allowed to worship God? I guess that's a sign that I'm getting old, too. But there are a lot of us who are wondering where these celebrities came from and where the America we knew went to.
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In light of the many jokes we send to one another for a laugh, this is a little different: This is not intended to be a joke; it's not funny, it's intended to get you thinking.
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Billy Graham's daughter was interviewed on the Early Show and Jane Clayson asked her, 'How could God let something like this happen?' (regarding Hurricane Katrina). Anne Graham gave an extremely profound and insightful response. She said, 'I believe God is deeply saddened by this, just as we are, but for years we've been telling God to get out of our schools, to get out of our government and to get out of our lives. And being the gentlemen He is, I believe He has calmly backed out. How can we expect God to give us His blessing and His protection if we demand He leave us alone?'
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In light of recent events... terrorist attack, school shootings, etc. I think it started when Madeline Murray O'Hare (she was murdered, her body found a few years ago) complained she didn't want prayer in our schools, and we said OK. Then someone said you better not read the Bible in school. The Bible says thou shalt not kill; thou shalt not steal, and love your neighbor as yourself. And we said OK.
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Then Dr. Benjamin Spock said we shouldn't spank our children when they misbehave, because their little personalities would be warped and we might damage their self-esteem. (Dr. Spock's son committed suicide.) We said an expert should know what he's talking about. We said OK.
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Now we're asking ourselves why our children have no conscience, why they don't know right from wrong, and why it doesn't bother them to kill strangers, their classmates, and themselves. Probably, if we think about it long and hard enough, we can figure it out. I think it has a great deal to do with 'We reap what we sow.'
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Funny how simple it is for people to trash God and then wonder why the world's going to hell. Funny how we believe what the newspapers say, but question what the Bible says. Funny how you can send jokes through e-mail and they spread like wildfire, but when you start sending messages regarding the Lord, people think twice about sharing. Funny how lewd, crude, vulgar and obscene articles pass freely through cyberspace, but public discussion of God is suppressed in the school and workplace.
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Are you laughing yet?
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Funny how when you forward this message, you will not send it to many on your address list beacuse you're not sure what they believe, or what they will think of you for sending it.
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Funny how we can be more worried about what other people think of us than what God thinks of us.
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Pass it on if you think it has merit.
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If not, then just discard it...no one will know you did. But, if you discard this thought process, don't sit back and complain about what bad shape the world is in.
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Ben Stein

Andy Rooney on Prayer

The following was forwarded to me in an email, and I wanted to share it with my readers. Please read with the next two (above) blogposts with this.

- ESA

_________________________________________________________________________________

A very big amen to this:

Pray if you want to!

I don't believe in Santa Claus, but I'm not going to sue somebody for singing a Ho-Ho-Ho song in December. I don't agree with Darwin, but I didn't go out and hire a lawyer when my high school teacher taught his Theory of Evolution.

Life, liberty or your pursuit of happiness will not be endangered because someone says a 30-second prayer before a football game. So what's the big deal? It's not like somebody is up there reading the entire Book of Acts. They're just talking to a God they believe in and asking him to grant safety to the players on the field and the fans going home from the game.

But it's a Christian prayer, some will argue.

Yes, and this is the United States of America and Canada, countries founded on Christian principles. According to our very own phone book, Christian churches outnumber all others better than 200-to-1. So what would you expect -- somebody chanting Hare Krishna?

If I went to a football game in Jerusalem, I would expect to hear a Jewish prayer.

If I went to a soccer game in Baghdad, I would expect to hear a Muslim prayer.

If I went to a ping pong match in China, I would expect to hear someone pray to Buddha.

And I wouldn't be offended. It wouldn't bother me one bit. When in Rome...

“But what about the atheists?” is another argument.

What about them? Nobody is asking them to be baptized. We're not going to pass the collection plate. Just humor us for 30 seconds. If that's asking too much, bring a Walkman or a pair of ear plugs. Go to the bathroom. Visit the concession stand. Call your lawyer!

Unfortunately, one or two will make that call. One or two will tell thousands what they can and cannot do. I don't think a short prayer at a football game is going to shake the world's foundations.

Christians are just sick and tired of turning the other cheek while our courts strip us of all our rights. Our parents and grandparents taught us to pray before eating, to pray before we go to sleep. Our Bible tells us to pray without ceasing. Now a handful of people and their lawyers are telling us to cease praying.

God, help us. 

And if that last sentence offends you, well, just sue me.

The silent majority has been silent too long. 

It's time we tell that one or two who scream loud enough to be heard that the vast majority doesn't care what they want. It is time that the majority rules! It's time we tell them, "You don't have to pray; you don't have to say the Pledge of Allegiance; you don't have to believe in God or attend services that honor Him. That is your right, and we will honor your right; but by golly, you are no longer going to take our rights away. We are fighting back, and we WILL WIN!"
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God bless us one and all... especially those who denounce Him, God bless America and Canada; despite all our faults, we are still the greatest nations of all. God bless our service men who are fighting to protect our right to pray and worship God.

Let's make this the year the silent majority is heard and we put God back as the foundation of our families and institutions. And our military forces come home from all the wars.

Keep looking up.