Silent Night, Holy Night

Adrianna closed her tired eyes.

“Silent night, holy night, all is calm, all is bright.” The carol whished around her. By the end of the second verse the beauty of the music settled on her weary shoulders.

“Silent night, holy night, Son of God, love’s pure light.” Tired tears escaped from under her eyelids. It was good to be reminded of God’s love – pure love – love that lit up a life, love that promised peace and joy, love that never broke promises.

“Silent night, holy night.” Adrianna slowly stood to her feet. Self-consciously she straightened her threadbare coat.

“Wondrous star, lend thy light.” Thankfully a place had been available in the second to last row. She looked around her. The pews were filled with Sunday people in their Sunday best. She wondered if she even belonged here. She studied the faces around her. Drawn faces, tired faces, masked faces. Lips moved, pages turned. She looked harder. Oh, over there. There was someone with joy and peace on their face. And behind her she heard a sniffle, she turned and looked. There was someone with tears of joy bathing their face.

“With the angels, let us sing.” She had snuck in the back door, after the service began, hoping to find the joy and peace that once had been so very real to her. She thought she might be able to find it in this church. But, looking around she realized that if it had been here all the people attending would have remnants of it clinging to them.

“Alleluia to our King.” If she couldn’t find it here, where would she find it? Her head hung low. Her heart ached.

“Christ the Saviour is born. Christ the Saviour is born.” Startled she looked up. That’s it! How could she have forgotten? Peace and joy were not found in a church. Peace and joy were found in the Saviour. Christ the Saviour is born. He saved us from our sins, from our tired lives, from our tormented souls.

“Silent night, holy night.” “Yes, Jesus, it is a holy night. Thank you for bringing me to this place and helping me to remember. Your gift to us is forgiveness. Your promise to us is peace and joy. Regardless of circumstance, regardless of our station in life, Your love is for all, for each of us.”

The music swirled around Adrianna in a dance of celebration. Her face glowed. Her eyes sparkled. She had discovered anew her riches in Christ.

© Denise Budd Rumble 2009

Thinking about Christmas

I was just thinking about Christmas – you know, fat man, red suit, ‘ho-ho-ho’, Jingle Bells, Rudolph, elves, Christmas card list, Christmas baking list, Christmas grocery list, Christmas cleaning to do list, Christmas wish lists, shopping, malls, crowds, waiting in line, credit card limit, snow, slush, slippery roads, cold, rushing, deadlines, baking, cleaning, wrapping.

How did we get so far away from the true meaning of Christmas? How have we let ourselves become so engrossed in the hustle and bustle of commercialism? If someone visited your home during the Christmas season would they see, hear or feel anything different from any other home in your neighbourhood?

Far from a joyful time of celebration, Christmas has become an unfulfilled dream for many.

Maybe this year we can get through the day without the cousins fighting over who got the best gift from Grandma. Maybe this year the turkey will be nicely browned on the outside and actually cooked all the way through on the inside. Maybe this year I’ll get some gratitude for all the work I’ve done in the kitchen and actually get help with the dishes. Maybe this year Uncle Joe won’t have one too many and get obnoxious.Maybe this year we can sit quietly around the fireplace and gaze into the gently burning fire while sipping our cocoa, and listen to Christmas music softly playing in the background. Maybe this year it’ll be a Hallmark Christmas.

Unrealistic expectations in lives that are lacking. An unrealistic expectation that one perfect day will fulfill all hopes and dreams and empty spaces in our lives.

Traveling, loved ones coming to visit, grandmothers, greenery, red bows, gingerbread, nephews and nieces, sweet, warm smells from the kitchen, grandchildren, games, smiles and laughter, love, tears of joy, hope, peace, Christmas Eve candlelight service, Silent Night, a hush, a breathless anticipation, O Holy Night, bright, shining star, shepherds, heavenly hosts, Hosanna in the Highest, celebration, inexplicable joy, hurry to see Him, humble stable, crude manger, beautiful baby.

A newborn baby in a cold, hard feeding trough. A dirty, smelly stable filled with love. Spontaneous worship given by ordinary people. This simple dwelling held the One who could fill the empty space in our lives, fulfill hopes and dreams, and provide love and peace.

Centuries later people are still seeking love, peace, hope, and rest from burdens. Have you found Him? Do you know Him? At this holy time of year what better gift could you give than sharing His good news with others? Share Jesus, share His gift. It’s free. It’s the best. One size fits all. It doesn’t rust or wear out. And best of all He fits that empty space perfectly.

I can’t think of anything better to give to the ones I love.

© Denise Budd Rumble 2009

Life interrupted…

In my last blog I told you that my life had been “interrupted” and so I was tardy in posting the answers to “Name that Tune” and the jokes.

It was my Mum. I needed to go and visit her. She is getting more confused, and having more problems with her memory. It’s life. It’s what happens. It’s not always fun and games, jokes and laughs. Much of life is messy and sad. It’s always been that way.

Just think about the first Christmas, over 2000 years ago. A young woman, pregnant for the first time. Her husband, who was not the father of the child. They were far from home. They were bone tired. The hotels and motels were all full up. The B&B’s had no vacancies. It was cold.

The baby was born  and put in his first bed – an animal’s feeding trough. Both the mother and father survived. They even had visitors who were excited because angels had come to tell them about the baby!

Over the next few days I will be sharing some stories for you. Consider them as my gifts to you this Christmas. And, yes, it will happen because I’ve pre-programmed it! 

Christmas will come, whether we’re ready or not. And that’s a good thing.

Let’s journey together.

© Denise Budd Rumble 2009

Tune & Joke Answers

When I wrote the last post on December 16th I fully intended to post the answers the following day. But, life interrupted. And that’s just how life is…

Here are the answers – better late than never!

Name that tune:

1/ Boulder of the tinkling metal spheres

Jingle Bell Rock

2/ The apartment of two psychiatrists                

The Nutcracker Suite

3/ We are King, Lear and Nat Cole of China

We Three Kings of Orient Are

4/ Far off in a hay bin

Away in a Manger

Jokes:

A/ What do snowmen eat for breakfast?

Snowflakes

B/ What do you get when you cross a snowman with a vampire?

Frostbite

C/ What do you call people who are afraid of Santa Claus?

Claustrophobic

D/ Why does Santa have three gardens?

So he can ho-ho-ho.

I can hear the groans….especially from my children!

Let’s journey together.

© Denise Budd Rumble 2009

Kim, you're right! Silent Night.

CONGRATULATIONS Kimberley! You’re right! The answer is “Silent Night.”

Here are a few more Christmas tunes:                                              

1/ Boulder of the tinkling metal spheres

2/ The apartment of two psychiatrists

3/ We are King, Lear and Nat Cole of China

4/ Far off in a hay bin

(Feel free to leave your answer(s) in the comments.)

How are you at jokes? I hate to admit it, but I’m terrible. Oh, I’m good at telling them; I just can’t remember them! Sometimes I can remember the first half, but forget the last half – yes, the punch-line. Not good.

If you need some help in that area this Christmas, or maybe you’re looking for something to talk about with that aunt, cousin, nephew, you only see once a year, look no further! Okay, maybe just continue looking down this page….

A/ What do snowmen eat for breakfast?

B/ What do you get when you cross a snowman with a vampire?

C/ What do you call people who are afraid of Santa Claus?

D/ Why does Santa have three gardens?

Sit down, close your eyes, and let this Christmas music take you back to your childhood… What? Oh yeah, there I go again, forgetting the punch-line. Drop by tomorrow and I’ll have them for you. “All I want for Christmas is the mind that I misplaced…”

Let’s journey together.

© Denise Budd Rumble 2009

A choice…

Have you ever noticed that regardless of the wonderful, or terrible, thing going on in your life the world continues to spin, as it always does. Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, etc. continue in an orderly fashion as the sun rises and sets. The leaves fall in Autumn, the cold blows in for Winter….

And now, Christmas. Just like every year. So, let’s pull out the Christmas music, set up the nativity set, buy a few candy canes and lots of chocolate, watch for the best price on turkey, and celebrate. Let’s choose to celebrate. After all the mincemeat and Christmas puddings are already made.

“A little boy and girl were singing their favourite Christmas carol in church the Sunday before Christmas. The boy concluded “Silent Night” with the words, “Sleep in heavenly beans.” “No,” his sister corrected, “not beans, peas!”

And, while we’re talking music… what is the title of this Christmas tune?
Sir Lancelot with laryngitis

Feel free to put your answer in the comments. I’ll reveal the answer next time. Until then enjoy the beautiful music below.

Let’s journey together.

© Denise Budd Rumble 2009

Memory, movement and mincemeat

After an unrealistic shot of hope and optimism at the geriatric assessment a few weeks ago, we are now settling into the glum reality of this stage in Mum’s life, and ours.

“I’m sorry but your mum has fallen again today – twice. We’re going to start taking her down to meals in a wheelchair. We’re concerned that she might really hurt herself one of these times….”

A walker all of her life – a “no nonsense” walker – the deterioration of her walking, and now this wheelchair travel, must be another harsh blow to our mum.

* * * * * * *

“Keep up, Denise.”

“Mummy, you’re walking too fast!”

“Well, just walk a little faster. Come on now, no dilly dallying.”

* * * * * * *

Some days she seems really good. Well, “really good” as in her present state of mind and movement is not so bad some days. And then there are the “other” days.

“Denise, you’ve come all this way from England to see me, again? That’s a lot of money you know!”

“No Mum, I haven’t just come from England. Yes, we did immigrate together when I was a toddler. And, yes, we did go on a trip together a couple of years ago. But, I don’t live in England.”

“Oh, Denise, I’m just so confused.”

* * * * * * *

But, in spite of all that, Christmas is coming and she has reminded us, often, that we need to get the mincemeat and the Christmas puddings made, and don’t forget the Christmas cards. And, in November, Karen and I did gather all the ingredients and Mum’s mincer and Christmas cards and Mum, and we had a great day reminiscing and peeling and mincing and baking and writing and laughing.

Shortly after that fun-filled day Mum phoned my sister, “Okay, Karen, now when are we going to make that mincemeat and Christmas pudding? It has to have time to age you know.”

We choose to laugh. The other choice is to cry. And crying is okay too, but you don’t want to stay in that place. At least, not when you grew up with a mother like ours who let us cry a little but then encouraged us (okay, maybe “demanded” is a better word!) to “buck up”, to not wallow, to “get on with it.”

So, we choose to laugh and our mum laughs with us. We laugh that she’s always complained about her memory, but now it really is bad. We laugh that she has always mixed up names – May, Frank, Karen, Mervyn… Denise! We laugh, because in many ways we’re just like her. And, we laugh, because we’re family. We stick together through thick and thin, good times and bad times, over smooth roads and rough. Because, as a family, we’re on this journey together.

Let’s journey together.

© Denise Budd Rumble 2009

Craft Night

“You know what we should do?” My sister’s eyes twinkled. “We should have a craft night!”

She practically choked on the last word as our mum and the two of us burst out laughing. That innocent line had been our mantra, and cause for much mirth over many years.

There were some fine craft shows in the three months leading up to Christmas. Most years we were able to attend at least one.

Snowmen and Santas. Angels and stars. Shepherds and crèches.

Wreaths and bells. Teddies and dollies. Trucks and trains.

Wood and wool. Wire and wheels. Fabric and lace. Stuffing and string.

It made one giddy to see all that selection and choice.

“Mum, look! Isn’t it sweet? And, it’s sooo soft!”

“Oh, my goodness! How can anyone charge that much for that bit of stuffing and fur?”

“But…”

“Denise, I’m sure we could make something even better and for much less. We should have a craft night.”

Over the years the same scenario was played out hundreds of times. We didn’t even have to say the words out loud! “We should have a craft night!”

And “craft” we did. Between us, my mum, sister and I made teddies and teddy clothes, dollies and dolly clothes, various and varied Christmas ornaments and decorations, knitted and crocheted sweaters and cardigans, vests, afghans, pillow covers, baby booties, mitts and socks.

We sewed Halloween costumes, toys, pillows, pillow covers, clothes, clothes and more clothes. We embroidered and cross-stitched and tatted and painted.

We baked everything from Christmas fruit cakes made in October so they could set and taste just right, to candy and cookies, play-doh, clay and shrink plastic.

We didn’t always live close to each other and made many things on our own. Then there were the fun times when we had our “craft nights” and afternoons and days and worked our hands raw preparing enough “stuff” for our own table at a craft and/or bake sale.

Were our attempts always perfect? Did everything always sell? Was our quality superb? Well…of course! How can you even ask such questions?

Even today wandering alone through the gift shops or enjoying a local craft sale I still hear my mum say, “We should have a craft night!”

Let’s journey together.

© 2009 Denise Budd Rumble

On a roller coaster at Christmas time

Christmas is a time for a multitude of things, but something folks don’t talk about much is the overwhelming emotion that accompanies this celebration. For me it’s quite like a roller coaster.

As I’m cleaning today I listen to my radio. The station is playing only Christmas music. I love that. You see, I love Christmas time. I’m one of those people who wish it were Christmas all year.

My mood has been up and down like a yo-yo today. Okay, maybe being menopausal and moody isn’t a surprise to anyone, but it seems like every few minutes, or every half hour, I’m up and then down and then dancing and then eyes filling with tears. It just occurred to me that I’m being messed with…by my radio station!

“Jingle bells, jingle bells…” happy, happy.

“I’ll be home for Christmas, you can count on me…” memories, nostalgia.

“I saw Mommy kissing Santa Claus…” mental pictures, story ideas.

“Jingle bell, jingle bell, jingle bell rock…” snapping fingers, dancing around the living room – see, I am getting exercise today.

“I’m dreaming of a white Christmas…” no problem there. We had a snowstorm yesterday. School buses cancelled, roads closed, snow, snow and more snow! “…just like the ones I used to know…” Hmm, not quite. No amount of snow will bring my dad back to celebrate Christmas with us, just one more time.

Why is it that Christmas evokes such emotion? From strangers wishing you “Merry Christmas” – okay, maybe “Happy Holidays” – to some gnarly brute stealing the parking spot that you’d been waiting patiently for! From teary-eyed parents watching their kids on Santa’s knee to parents screaming at whiny kids to quit asking for every toy they see. Emotions are flying all over the place.

No wonder I’m so exhausted after shopping. My emotions undergo a strenuous exercise there! Happy, sad, impatient, surprised, frustrated, angry. And when hubby happily greets me at the door, obviously having missed me, all I can say is,  “I need a cuppa and some time alone! Did you even think about starting supper?” Hmm, he probably thinks I was alone all day…

Let’s journey together.

© 2008 Denise Budd Rumble

Change of Weather; Change of Plans

Snow gently falling. Sun shining through the clouds. Birds busy about the birdfeeders. A massive thick blanket of glistening snow everywhere you look. It’s a Christmas postcard of brilliant white – beautiful.

I live in rural Southwestern Ontario, Canada and late yesterday afternoon it started snowing in earnest. This morning I awoke to at least eighteen inches of new snow. Yes, eighteen. It looks beautiful from the window, but then I don’t have to clear it away. Enter hubby.

The news anchor reported last night, that a little further west from here, 37 inches of new snow had fallen. It showed a tractor-trailer in the ditch. Many cars had been stranded. Snowmobiles were called in for rescue. One man was being treated for hypothermia after he spent more than seven hours in his car overnight. The roads were closed. I’m thinking all those people weren’t celebrating the beauty of the snow yesterday.

For several weeks my sister and I had planned to get together with our mum to write out our Christmas cards. They live about an hour away. I was going to meet them at my sister’s house. I bought stuff for supper. My sister and mum were going to go to the local bakery to buy desserts – yes, plural. I had my Christmas cards and address books. I had address stickers and Christmas stickers and Christmas-coloured markers and my special pen. We would need Christmas CD’s – no problem there. I bought shortbread cookies and fruitcake. I mean, really, you absolutely need those if you’re going to do anything Christmassy. And did I mention “chocolate”. After the Christmas cards were done – or we were done with the cards, whichever came first – we were going to watch movies, Christmas movies. Mum and I would stay overnight and top this entry into the Christmas season with going to a Christmas bazaar Saturday morning. I was quite looking forward to it.

Late Friday afternoon I shut down my computer and started gathering up everything I would need. As I passed the living room window I looked out and all I could see was snow! Snow coming straight down. No breeze. I couldn’t see across the road. Now, how was I going to get to my sister’s? I continued to pack. Surely the snow would stop soon. And, it did! About 30 minutes later I went out to clear the snow off the car – about six or eight inches. Half way through the job it started snowing again. I was standing in snow halfway up to my knees. The road was white. The driveway was… well, let’s just say “snow” is the operative word here. My hubby arrived home and declared he was glad I was still home and that I wasn’t crazy enough to venture out. Hmm, I think that’s a compliment!

Change of weather can sure change plans in a hurry.

My sister and mum still got together – they live ten minutes apart – quickly came up with a Plan “B” for supper. Ate the desserts – yes, plural. Wrote out some cards. They did phone to find out how I was doing with my Christmas cards. I was supposed to be doing Christmas cards? Nah, I was dozing in my chair, while visions of thousands of glistening snowflakes danced in my head.

Let’s journey together.

© 2008 Denise Budd Rumble