Great Minds...

My kids may want to shoot me for yet again turning every insignificant incident into a blog post, but here I go anyway.

For Christmas, I made a not-very-subtle wish for candles. Specifically, three-wick candles from Bath and Body Works. Burning them in my home office while I write in the pre-sunrise hours before it’s time to go to my regular job is often the best part of my day. Nothing like a cup of steaming coffee with my favorite hazelnut creamer, the quiet of early morning, and the warm glow of a scented candle to remind me of something important. You see, for me, the candle represents a spiritual truth: God’s triune presence with me, helping me as we work together. As I light the three wicks, I ask him to fill the room with his Spirit, to infuse my writing with his light and fragrance and warmth. To somehow ignite a spark in a reader’s heart through the words I type.

Well, maybe that’s a tad lofty. But I pray for it anyway. And so, I asked my family for more candles for Christmas. “The kind that smell like something yummy is baking,” I said, since I rarely bake any more. Writing is more lucrative and less fattening.

Hubby toed the line by giving me three candles in three different scents from the specified store. Not exactly cookie dough or banana bread scents, but very pleasant fragrances nonetheless: Midnight Blue Citrus, Winter, and Goal Digger. These will keep me typing for months, leaving no excuse for not writing.

Then we drove all the way to our daughter’s house in Calgary to spend Christmas with her family. By December 29, the remainder of the family had arrived from Manitoba, some by plane and some on wheels. It was our first time all together in ages, and the first time ever for our newest member. Thirteen of us under one roof created delightful chaos, especially when it came time to open gifts.

When dear old mom’s turn came, we enjoyed a good laugh. Two of our three offspring had been thinking similar thoughts. While desiring to honor my request for candles, neither of them wanted to risk buying the same scented candle as anyone else. So they didn’t shop at Bath and Body Works. To ensure their gift would be unique, they each picked a different store, one in Calgary and one in Winnipeg.

The result? Two identical 3-wick Mercury candles in the same Mulled Cider and Cinnamon scent from Indigo. From two different people who, it turns out, might think more alike than they want to admit.

For the record, “Great minds think alike” is not from the Bible. But I’m glad God gave my kids great minds. And the matching candles look (and smell) terrific side by side on our dining table…at least until it’s time for each of them to take their turn at my writing desk.

Ornaments I Love, Part 3 - Ugliest Little Stocking

As a stay-at-home mom of two preschoolers, I eagerly anticipated a morning out each week where women were free to connect, learn together, and relax while their children were lovingly cared for. It was a program at my church cleverly called LIFT (“Ladies in Fellowship Together”) and it probably saved my sanity in those early years of parenting. The program continues today in a little different format and name (MOPS – “Mothers of Preschoolers”), but still acknowledges the deep need for this kind of break for busy young parents.

The kids enjoyed going to LIFT, and they loved the volunteers who cared for them so well. Naturally, we young moms appreciated them too! Most weeks, the kids came home with a little craft they’d made. One year as Christmas neared, the volunteers helped the kids make tiny Christmas stockings from green felt with their names in gold glitter. Could anything be more beautiful?

By the time our third child, Reuben, came along, our family had invented a strange little game with those stockings. The game became a tradition. The kids hid their little stockings somewhere in the branches of the Christmas tree. Then, while they were asleep or otherwise occupied, their dad and I hunted for those stockings, tucked a mini candy cane into each one, and hid them in a different branch for the kids to find on Christmas morning. No one ever talked about it. Somehow it just evolved, and remaining silent was part of the fun.

Photo by G. Loewen Photography

There was only one problem. Reuben didn’t have one of those little stockings. He didn’t mind, because he was still too little to care. But his sister cared. Mindy took it upon herself to make her baby brother his own little stocking. She cut one of her own well-used, every-day socks down to size and glued gold garland around the top. Now Reuben could participate, too. It may have been the saddest looking little stocking ever, but it was made with love. I felt touched by Mindy’s compassion. Like most siblings, our kids fought and drove each other crazy through their years under our roof, and I guess that’s what makes this memory so precious.

The game grew increasingly challenging every year as the kids became more clever at hiding the stockings. Nobody even liked candy canes much anymore, but tradition is tradition and it continued through their teens.

One by one, the kids grew up and left. The little stockings eventually went with their owners to their new homes. But somehow, Reuben’s funny little misfit stocking is still at our house. And every time I see it, I smile. My heart is warmed by the memory of a silly family Christmas tradition and of the priceless love of a (mostly) devoted sister.

Where I May Have Acquired My Hope Genes

Mom with her original five.

So this week we celebrated Mom’s 85^th birthday at a local restaurant with my siblings and Mom’s little brother who always seemed like more of a brother to us. It was a good time, with my brother making my sister laugh so hard she could barely breathe at one point.

As we celebrated Mom, we played a trivia game with questions based on the autobiography she published ten years ago. Even she didn’t get all the answers correct, but she did win the prize in the end.

One of my favorite stories from Mom’s life and book happened in 1950. Shortly after she and Dad moved into their first “real” home (a converted granary they had fixed up!), they were so proud to be able to order from the Simpsons catalog a complete living room suite—sofa, chair, coffee table, and two end tables. It even came with two lamps.

The trivia question surrounding this story was: What made this purchase so ironic?

The answer:  Their home didn’t have electricity!

Mom proudly placed the lamps on the end tables where they served as decorative ornaments for a year until the power company rolled through their district, stringing the wires that would make everyone’s world a little brighter. At the party, we teased Mom about whether she put bulbs in them and if so, did they burn out during the year? I suppose the house must have been wired for electricity when they built it, anticipating the day.

The reason I love this story so much is because it speaks of two things: contentment and hope.

The Bible says “We are saved by trusting. And trusting means looking forward to getting something we don’t yet have—for a man who already has something doesn’t need to hope and trust that he will get it.

 
But if we must keep trusting God for something that hasn’t happened yet, it teaches us to wait patiently and confidently.” (Romans 8:24 TLB)

Faith is about buying electric lamps before you can connect them to power, confident it will come. Faith is about waiting patiently for the fulfillment of our dreams here on earth, trusting that God is working out the details in his timing. 

Most of all, faith is knowing there is a “fully-charged” home awaiting us when our time here is done. So we can live out our 85 or 95 or 105-year allotment here, in the midst of life’s loneliness and disappointments, with peace and joy and patience and love. I’m grateful to have a mother who’s still here with us, exemplifying that very kind of faith every day.

Yay! A coloring book!