Starting Early for Next Christmas

Yup. It's only been two days since Christmas 2011 and we've already hit the stores for next year. I dragged Michael and the kids out for the sales at Target, Hobby Lobby and the Red Door (a cute little shop in Allendale). We were in search of name tags, a tree skirt and a new stocking for Caleb. (We decided that since he is one month shy of 11 it is indeed time to set the Tigger stocking aside and move on to something more age appropriate.)

There were a few other secret items on my list that the rest of the family didn't know about. I was searching for four little journals, two with pretty flowers and two with not a single hint of pink or flower anywhere. The past few days I'd been contemplating once again the true meaning of Christmas and how to avoid the trap of materialism and encourage my children to think a little deeper.

As I was praying through my daily list of  young souls I'm entrusted with I was reminded that one of the best gifts I can give them is my prayers. My mom has been encouraging me for years to keep a written record of the spiritual comments the kids make.  I haven't gotten around to that yet but her suggestion was the foundation of the idea that came so strongly to me yesterday. What if I kept a prayer journal for each of the kids from now until next Christmas,  keeping that written record of what I see in them, how I'm praying for them and how God is answering those prayers? And what if I wrapped them up and gave them to the kids next year at Christmas?

"But would you really follow through and do that?" I questioned myself. Well, I've learned a bit from my Monday circle of fellow BSF leaders. This year my friends Siglende, Fran and Becca have taken the step of telling us what God had put on their hearts and invited us to be their accountability lovelies and make sure they followed through on His promptings. So...following their example I'm writing on my blog what I feel God is impressing me to do. Now I'm accountable to you to actually keep those prayer journals. Feel free to ask me a year from now how it went!

I found just the right journals that I was looking for. Grace even helped me pick out the ones for her and Abby thinking they were, "for your ladies". I just told her I needed them for a project. The one I had in mind for Grace has, "This is the day the LORD has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it" written on it. How sweet it was to hear Grace read the verse and then start singing the song. As I type this the four journals are lying next to me on the couch and yes, they have each been written in.

It is my hope and prayer that as I write in these journals God will use this to encourage me to be faithful in prayer and expectantly look for answers. And that He will use these prayers in amazing ways in the lives of Caleb, Grace, Micah and Abby for years to come. That would truly be a wonderful Christmas gift.

This Safe Christmas Eve

Christmas is in many ways such a contradiction. It is one of the most special times of the year, full of blessings, fellowship, thankfulness and joy. On the other hand, it is very busy, elements of the season are stressful and it's a battle against the draw of materialism.

This Christmas Eve, like so many others, found our family gathered with my brother Greg, sister-in-law Jeni and their five kids at my parent's house. Out of all the activities that go along with the season, this is our favorite.

I am so blessed to have this brother who challenges my thinking spiritually and makes me laugh until my face hurts with his dry-witted comments. I am blessed to have this sister-in-law who is always just herself; no pretenses or duplicity and who loves us just as we are. And my parents, well there are no words to describe how blessed we are to have them.

Whenever we all get together, it is a special time. I love the fact that we can be completely comfortable with each other. I can share what I may be struggling with or the latest encouragement God's given me. It is a safe place to gather with safe, trustworthy people. I can cry (exercise my spiritual gift as my kids say) and know that I am cared for. Although Greg has on occasion reminded me that he can understand his wife's blubbering speech but not mine, so could I please repeat my sentence. Sometimes I just have Jeni translate it for him.

I love how comfortable Michael and Jeni are with each other. She tends to be a little gullible sometimes and he loves to try to set her up. This year he told her we weren't arriving to the party until the Broncos game was over. They also have such friendly give and take banter; for example he kept insisting he was going to place the annual pizza order and ask for thin crust. Jeni told him just what he could do with the thin crust pizza if he didn't order her the pan crust.

We also love the fact that our kids don't fight at these gatherings. There are nine kids running around, bandaging themselves up, playing dress-up in grandma's clothes and drinking red pop in the basement where grandma doesn't freak out about spills. It never ceases to amaze us that we don't have to get after the kids at all. It's a brief respite in parenting when they all just seem to get along, allowing us to visit with each other more.

I think the thing that we love and appreciate most about getting together is that there is a constant element of our faith ebbing and flowing, surfacing and under girding our conversations. We laugh and joke and get a little competitive playing games like "Apples to Apples" or "Spot It" and then somehow, in a very natural way, the conversation becomes a discussion about whether or not Satan knows our individual thoughts and if we need to rebuke him out loud or just in our mind. That leads to whether it was best to rebuke Satan by addressing him or if prayer to God for help, causing Him to dispatch angels was more beneficial. (By the way, Greg had a great line..."Satan does not know our thoughts but he knows how we think.") These discussions are always safe places to ask questions and stretch our spiritual understanding. Then, somehow the conversation naturally moves on to the great pizza debate once again.

Through the entire time we are together, the words that describe it are "safe" and "comfortable". We can be our real selves, listened to, respected, accepted, valued and loved...flaws and all. Christmas Eve with these dear ones is truly a blessed, refreshing, enjoyable time. It is a little oasis in the season, a wonderful gift from God.

Unlatched Doors

Studying the dull sky, I let my mind wander as I waited for our dog Max to finish his "outdoor business". Suddenly a quick movement to the right caught my eye. I glanced over to see our new little dog hopping around eagerly. "How in the world did she get out?" I wondered. "The back storm door is closed. I looked at it as I walked away to be sure she couldn't get out!" No sooner had this thought crossed my mind then, "How in the world am I going to get her back in the house?" frantically followed. Indeed, Misty had greeted Max and was already happily exploring the yard next door, taunting him with the fact that she wasn't on a leash and he was.

I called her but she just glanced at me over her shoulder as she sashayed into the yard two houses away. No longer the timid, terrified puppy she had been on her arrival to our home; she now felt confident enough to take on the neighborhood on her own.

I gave poor Max a yank on the leash, stopping him mid-stream. We hurried to the house where I quickly let him in, took the leash off him and set off after the little one. In the flurry I noticed just how Misty had escaped. When I had taken Max out, the storm door had indeed closed behind us but it had not latched tightly. To the quick glance it appeared secure, but there was actually an open space about an inch wide. Little Miss has pushed into it with her nose and then wiggled her body through.

Misty led me on a merry chase for about ten minutes. Back and forth across the street she doged. I ventured into places in my neighbor's yards I had never gone before, trying to catch the little fawn colored fluff ball. Finally, Misty dashed into a neighbor's garage through an open side door. Micah and I stood at the ready just outside the door while our helpful neighbor herded her toward us. We caught her as she tried to dodge past, depriving her of her new-found independence.

Back in the house, as I went about folding the waiting laundry my mind replayed the adventure. I pictured Misty pushing her squished up black nose into the tiny space between the door and the frame, then wiggling through up to her soft fluffy neck, then edging her shoulders through, then her hips and finally zipping her curled tail through before the door caught it. Then...freedom in the great wide open. I told myself and the children that we HAD to check the door and make sure it was latched. Be vigilant! I contemplated putting a sign on the door to remind us.

Then God put a quiet truth in my mind. "That's like how sin gets control." When I cease being vigilant and watchful; when I become careless in guarding against it; sin wiggles in. Just a whisper of it, then a bit more, it stealthily but quickly invades. When I allow a whisper of unthankfulness to nose its way in, it is quickly followed by greed for more than what He has blessed me with. Then envy of what He has in His good wisdom given to others begins to run free. As quickly as my little dog snuck out the back door and ran wild, sin can run wild in my mind and heart.

The only way to make sure the door of my heart is latched tightly against sin is to be latched onto my Savior. By studying His word, basking in His promises, communing with Him through prayer I stay more grounded in Him and protected from the sins that want to run wild in my soul. Of course sin does sneak in (and in all honesty, sometimes I leave the door wide open in invitation). But the more I rely on and enjoy God, the quicker I recognize its presence and confess it. Then the sooner it is that He reins in the sin and restores my peace.

Isn't that just like God, to bring good out of what is not good? He uses escaped dogs to bring to mind truths that will help me live closer to Him. Who knew that puppies could be a tool in sanctification?

Junk Man's Daughter

Every year at the annual Christmas party for the extended Lubbers family, my Aunt Mary gives each of her great-nieces and great-nephews a gift. She spends hours perusing the book stores for just the right copy of a Caldacott Award winning book or a unique game or puzzle. She keeps lists from year to year to remind herself what she has given to each child. (There are twenty of them after all.) We always look forward to seeing what she has lovingly and painstakingly chosen.

A few years ago, Aunt Mary gave Grace a book we weren't familiar with before. It's a beautiful picture book about an immigrant family who comes to America and does not find the expected streets of gold. As times get even more difficult for them, the father contemplates returning to the old country. But one day the family makes an unexpected discovery on the way to school. In the snow they find glass bottles that they bring home and resell. Each day thereafter, they gather things that others have discarded, bring them home, sort them and resell them. The title of the book is, "Junk Man's Daughter".

This book has taken on a rather personal meaning for me. I have come to recognize that my dad is a junk man and I am indeed his daughter. I find myself stopping along the side of the road to retrieve discarded refundable cans just as he did years ago. (One Sunday morning on the way to church we pulled over so Micah, dressed in his Sunday finest, could hop out and pick up three empty beer bottles.) Another of dad's hobbies is to recycle any steel, copper and aluminum that he can find. For a while after his accident a couple years ago dad did several "clean-outs" for a property manager. These quickly became a family affair. Dad and mom would load up his truck with stuff left behind at the property and bring it home to sort, much like the family in the picture book. I loved getting calls that they had another clean-out and I was invited over to search through the piles for hidden treasures. The kids loved these calls too because it meant they could usually find some "new-to-them" treasure toy at Grandma's Jolly Junk Store as they called her garage. They were always as thrilled with these left-behind treasures as they were with brand new Christmas gifts.

As we sorted through the piles of discarded items we made piles of clothes to wash and donate, metal dad could recycle for a bit of extra gas money and items I could list on CraigsList to resell. We loved the challenge of fixing and cleaning neglected, forsaken items and turning them into just the thing someone else was searching for. Anything we could keep out of the landfill was good. And if we could earn a little bit in the process to set aside for something special, even better.

Well, the clean-out stage is behind us with dad's physical limitations now. However, the thrill of the hunt hasn't completely disappeared. Just last week I got a call that dad had found some folding chairs discarded on the side of the road. Would I like to list them on CraigsList? You bet! I remembered the lady who was so excited about the extremely vintage dresser that would go perfectly in the old farmhouse she had just purchased. I knew there would be someone else thrilled to find cheap folding chairs for their upcoming Christmas party or college apartment. (Living so close to much of GVSU's student housing has its definate advantage. College kids are always looking for a good deal.)

So, I am the junk man's daughter. We're too Dutch to waste things that may serve a purpose. And since my hard-working husband hasn't had a raise in four years we love setting aside the little extra that God sends our way in unique measures, be it returnable bottles along the roadside or discarded folding chairs. This is how we have been able to fund family vacations the past few years. So maybe I do have a hobby after all. Taking other peoples trash and trying to turn it into treasure while having some family fun along the way.

Misty Mae Maartense- Therapy Dog

Big changes took place in our home over the weekend. Late Saturday morning we tossed some bannanas, apples, animal crackers and juice boxes in the tote and piled into the van. It was a gorgeous day for a little drive in December. No snow to speak of and actual sun shining through the windows as we began our own rescue mission.

Up in Reed City waited a cute little pug dog who had been surrendered to the animal shelter by her owner. For an afternoon drive and a little bit from our "entertainment" fund she could join our family. We're hoping it will be a very beneficial arrangement for all parties involved.

We'd been considering another dog off and on for several months. Caleb had requested over a year ago that our next dog be a pug. I liked the idea of having a littler dog to keep our bigger dog company when we aren't home. When I was a teenager, whenever we came home from church, Dad would always ask our indoor dog, Tessie, how puppy church was. I was thinking that Max needed a little communion of the puppy saints during his puppy church time when we're gone on Sundays.

Then there's the fact that Grace's bunny is ailing. We're coming to terms with that and Grace said it would be easier to accept Oreo's passing if she had another pet to love. She said she thought a little pug would help.

I also have to admit that I am discovering just how much I love dogs. Whenever a stray roams through the neighborhood, I try to convince Michael to go catch it so we can take it in and give it a home. Reminds me of the many stray dogs we took in at the farm in my growing up years.

The scales leaned more heavily toward getting another dog as winter approached and dad can't get outside like he does in the summer. Dad too is a dog person. Sometimes he'll spend an hour or so just lying outside on the ground next to Ruby, their black lab. But Ruby is an outdoor dog and won't come in the house. Mom suggested to dad that maybe they get a little indoor dog. However, with his physical limitations, they decided house-training a dog would be a challenge for him when mom isn't home. We liked the idea of having a little dog that we could bring over to dad during the winter for play dates as part of his "therapy".

So, given all these factors, we decided to keep our eyes open for a pug that would be cheap and a good fit for our family. (No expensive, papered puppies for us...we go the way of adopting unwanted dogs.) We found a listing on Craigslist from the animal shelter in Reed City where five pugs had been surrendered by their owner. They were about a year and a half old, un-named, unloved, and used to being locked in a crate together.

So, we figured one of those little pugs needed us and we drove off to discover which one it was. As we drove along the excitement ran high among the kids. Possible names flew back and forth as they munched their animal crackers and watched the GPS to see how many more miles we needed to travel. We knew we wanted a name that began with an "M" to go along with Max, our other dog. Mia, Maya, Muff, Minnie, Maura, Moppet, Minty...all were quickly rejected by one or more members of the family. Grace in her wisdom said, "Let's wait until we see her and look at her and then maybe we'll know what to name her." This seemed like a very wise idea.

As we arrived at the shelter and followed Michelle to the back where the pugs were, another dog caught Michael's eye. "No Michael, we're not going to get another big dog." He had seen a sweetie that looked a lot like our Max. He had wanted to get another big dog like Max and name it "Junior". But the kids and I led him on to the pugs. I was wondering how we were going to decide which of the dogs we would get. It would be the kid's choice, not mine; but getting four kids to agree could be rather tricky.

I had been praying over the two weeks that we were seriously considering the pugs that if we weren't supposed to get one of them that God would make it clear. As we looked at the little dogs, I listened as one by one our kids chose the same dog. All four kids were in agreement about which dog should come home with us. They wanted the timid one who was trying to hide behind her sister. According to the kids, "She needed the most love" and they thought our family could give that to her.

Having decided that she was the one, we piled back into the van with our Christmas pug. Micah said, "The pug got her Christmas present early. She got a new family...US." As we drove back home I brought up the name question. Out of the blue Grace suggested the name Misty. Right away the other kids agreed. Another little miracle of all four kids agreeing on something. So, Misty Mae Maartense snuggled up to enjoy her van ride home.

Since having Misty here, we've gotten to watch our kids excercise patience and foster nurturing attitudes toward her. Misty's previous owner was a breeder who just kept the dogs in a cage. They were never trained on a leash or given much loving attention. When we first picked her up, her whole body just trembled and shook. Now, when the kids creep toward her, she wags her tail and doesn't run away. It's sweet to hear the kids praying about Misty; thanking God for her, asking Him to help her be comfortable in our home and that all the other dogs at the shelter will get loving homes.

Misty never had any reservations about Max. She loves him already, wanting to play and lick him. He's not so keen on playing, but is willing to share his food and water bowls. He lets her steal his chewing bone without batting an eye at her.

So, Misty is going to be our therapy dog and we are going to be her therapy family.