A Pilgrim Thanksgiving

I've really been looking forward to celebrating this Thanksgiving. It's been a good year, and there are many things for our family to be thankful for. A new marriage that all parties are adjusting to nicely, good performances by both Katie and Jonathan in school, a beautiful new home, a new church family that has embraced Katie, Jonathan, and me--more than I could ever write here. And we'll be hosting Thanksgiving dinner for family in our new home, using our new dining room furniture. Could things be better?

But it's a strange juxtaposition of events for some families in our congregation this week. We received word on Sunday morning that one couple's 48-year-old son, a godly Christian husband and father, died after a ten-year battle with cancer. And this afternoon, a dear friend who has been an elder in our church and has served faithfully on the board of Reformed Fellowship with Henry, finally was taken home to heaven, also after a long, trying battle with cancer.

And so the thought occurred to me: What will Thanksgiving look like for these families? In a time of intense suffering and the pain of loss, how will they celebrate Thanksgiving?

Probably for the same reasons and in the same ways the Pilgrims who celebrated the first Thanksgiving did it. During the previous winter, the Pilgrims' first in this cold new world, the townspeople Pilgrims, who knew little of hunting and fishing, ate five kernels of Indian corn a day per person. They read their Bibles and sang Psalms and huddled together in their little ship in blankets to keep warm. When their numbers began to succumb to cold and disease and started dying, they buried the dead in unmarked graves at night so that the Indians wouldn't know how many of their number had been lost. By the end of the winter only 57 Pilgrims and half the crew remained. Half of their party were gone. Probably every person who lived had been touched by death.

And yet months later, those that had continued living, planting, harvesting, worshiping, and laying the foundations for what would become the greatest nation on the earth--in spite of tremendous loss--established a holiday of thanksgiving to God that would continue to this day. A children's book we have says that the Pilgrims thanked God for carrying them across the sea, for keeping them through the winter, for their Indian friends, for their harvest, for living in a place where they were free to worship according to their consciences. And I'm sure those godly Pilgrims were truly thankful to God for all of those things, because they recognized them as His good and perfect gifts--gifts that enabled them to live and prosper. And yet the fact remains that most of them had not even been separated a year from loved ones who lay in unmarked graves--husbands, wives, children--leaving broken hearts that surely could not have been healed in such a short time.

And that's where these modern Pilgrims have something in common with those Plymouth Pilgrims in facing a Thanksgiving that is less than what they would have liked it to be. In spite of their loss, they know that there is something to be far more thankful for than simply the creature comforts the Lord provides, as wonderful as they are. They can be thankful that death does not have the final word, that one day they will enjoy eternal Thanksgiving with the Pilgrims who have gone on before. They can say in their hearts, "Praise the Lord, O my soul, and forget not all his benefits--who forgives all your sins and heals all your diseases, who redeems your life from the pit and crowns you with love and compassion, who satisfies your desires with good things so that your youth is renewed like the eagle's" (Psalm 103:1-5).

Perhaps the truest, most meaningful Thanksgiving comes when we know just what we have been delivered from, when we realize that even gratitude itself is a gift from the One who is the giver of all good gifts, the One who provides hope in suffering and the promise that one day our suffering will be a distant memory, as all of us Pilgrims join in a forever feast.

O God, our help in ages past,
Our help for years to come,
Be Thou our guard while troubles last,
And our eternal home.

The Library

A conversation last night with Henry led us down a path of nostalgia and back to the places I remember so fondly. I was descriptively walking him down the main street of my hometown, Wauseon, Ohio, and landed on a spot that I'm reluctant to leave, even an evening later when nostalgia is no longer the topic of conversation and the demands of a new week call for my attention.

We were actually talking about grocery stores when I recalled my childhood nirvana, that place that was better than any other. Growing up in a small town in northwestern Ohio in the sixties and seventies meant that small children could do things that mothers would never think of letting them do now. Across the street from the A&P and town post office, just a block from Main Street, was the library--a place so amazing, so quiet, so lovely--so full of books. And when I was still very small, when my mom would shop for groceries at the A&P, she would let me cross the street and visit the library, all by myself.

How could you not love a building in a small town with stained glass like this? And that was just the icing on the cake. Past the card catalog, up the creaky stairway were the children's books, protectively covered in stiff cellophane, some with scotch-taped pages, repaired by a horrified mother who hoped that the librarian wouldn't notice.

Bookshelves just my height contained favorites like Dandelion and Corduroy. And then--as I got a little older--I discovered those neglected books over against the wall, easily overlooked by children who wanted the shallow entertainment of the Bobbsey Twins and Nancy Drew: the plain, burnt-orange colored Childhood of Famous Americans books, with their simple titles in a drab brown type. A girl would definitely have to look beneath the surface to find the treasures inside, and while mom was over at the A&P picking up the bread, meat, milk, and other essentials, I was deciding which famous American heroine I would read about this week: Molly Pitcher, Clara Barton, Helen Keller, or Louisa May Alcott. Sometimes I'd even set my young feminist prejudices aside and read about Abraham Lincoln or Thomas Edison.

And then there was the day that I graduated to the adult section downstairs. In what at the time seemed an enormous room, I made my way through the stacks to my first grown-up book: Jane Eyre. Then high school made me aware of the two front rooms that contained the periodicals, where I was introduced to literary treasures like Teen and Seventeen magazines.

What a marvelous place, this old building that smelled of scotch tape, probably a little dust, ink pens, rubber stamps, and--well, if you've never enjoyed the pleasures of a small-town library, you won't understand--books.

And so I miss my little library, which is still where it was on Elm Street all those years ago, but now with additions, computers, stuffed Arthurs--and no card catalogs. I never would have dreamed back then that I would only visit it here --now a page on the Internet, with only my memories to remind me that it was a real place where a little girl learned to love books and grew up and became an editor, someone who puts books together. And even though I don't think there were any biographies of the childhoods of famous American editors, those books wouldn't have been there if there hadn't been an editor. Even Louisa May Alcott needed an editor, after all.

Creative Blogger

My sweet friend Alicia at Gavin's Voice has passed along a creative blogger award. Thanks, Alicia! If I had gotten it first, I would have sent it to you. And if you haven't checked out Gavin's Voice, get ready for cuteness. Gavin is an adorable two-year-old with gorgeous red hair. His two years of life have not been easy ones; Gavin was born with Down Syndrome and has all kinds of serious health problems and surgeries. Alicia shares the ups and downs of her experience on her blog.

But the terms of the award are these:

1. I must pass the award along to my favorite blogs.
2. I must share six things about myself that people don't know.

And so here are those six riveting details that have you on the edge of your seat:

1. I have an unhealthy need to make the bed before I leave the house in the morning. I don't even want to think about what my day would be like if I left the house with the bed unmade. I'm trying to imagine even now what circumstance might occur that would make me leave the house, bed unmade. Maybe if Henry had a really high fever and just couldn't get up. But I could always just help him move to the couch . . .

2. My first trip by air was to New Orleans probably about 1985 or 1986 when I was a graduate student at the University of Dayton. The English Department sent me to a conference on teaching English. It was quite a heady experience for this small-town Ohio girl.

3. The greatest tragedy of my grade school career occurred in third grade, when we were required to tear a piece of black construction paper into the shape of a tree. An overachiever, I hated art in elementary school because I just plain wasn't good at it. And scissors were not allowed for this particular project. I cried through recess when everyone else who was finished was allowed to go outside, and I was not because my stupid tree wasn't done. I still think it was a silly assignment. Never in my adult life have I needed to rip a shape out of a piece of paper.

4. I fantasize about being Scarlett O'Hara (mainly for the dresses). In my fantasy, the Civil War never happens, and Tara stays as it is at the beginning of Gone with the Wind pretty much as long as I want it to.

5. I'm really tired of hearing people say, "Even though I'm disappointed in the election, I'm really proud of America for voting in an African American president." The Thirsty Theologian blogger finally said out loud what I've been thinking all along in response to this:

I am not the least bit excited that Obama is black. I couldn’t care less. I don’t think this is a wonderful day in American history because we have elected a black President. This in no way indicates any improvement in “race” relations. The very fact that people are making a big deal about it proves that. The fact that vast numbers of people, by their own admission, voted for Obama because of his color, and that others who could not vote for him wish that they could have because of his color tells me that color holds a place of significance that it should not. When the day comes when people no longer speak of “race” at all, especially as a factor in making choices between individuals, then I will recognize that something important has happened. I do not think of Obama as a black man. I think of him as an extraordinarily evil man. There’s nothing exciting about that.


It probably doesn't come as a great surprise to those who know me that I'm not an Obama fan, but since you didn't know I was thinking this particular thought, I think it qualifies here.

6. And, to go out on more of a lighthearted note, my favorite local restaurant is
Rose's . . . or maybe it's Great Lakes Shipping Company . . . and I really like Mangiamo.

7. Henry and I first kissed . . . Oops! I already gave you six. Never mind!

And my creative blog awards go out to:

Julia at Kingdom Jewels for her stunning photography, witty takes on family life, her cat Leo, and because she, like me, is from Ohio

Leah at Rondo Street for her intelligent, artsy, quirky--and often humorous--ability to create interesting blog posts about things as basic as an F key that doesn't work. And because, like me, she reads theology. (It's not just for guys!)

Congratulations, girlfriends! I'm looking forward to learning six new things about each of you!

An Open Letter . . .

To Mr. Obama:

The people have spoken, and you have been chosen to be the next president of the United States. You should know that I did not vote for you, and I am disappointed that you have won this election. My disappointment has nothing to do with your race. I didn't not vote for you because you are black. My choice transcends issues of race and heritage.

I am a white, middle-class woman who is about your age. I'm well-educated, with a master's degree in English that I earned from the University of Dayton in Dayton, Ohio. I grew up in a small town in Ohio, where we left the doors to our houses and cars unlocked when we left them. We were that safe. At my high school graduation from the town's public high school, a local pastor led in prayer and then gave the address to the graduates. One Easter, in a public school assembly, I was asked to sing a solo. I sang a song called "The Day He Wore My Crown," a song about Christ dying on the cross for my sin and all that means for me and other Christians. You may wonder what any of this has to do with anything, but these are the things that shaped me, and our nation has moved far away from the things that have shaped my life. Your administration promises to move this country even farther away from the things that have shaped me, and while many would see this as progress, I see it as a loss of freedom, and this concerns me, since I am a citizen of the "land of the free and the home of the brave."

But most importantly, what shapes me is my Christianity. Before I am an American, before I am even a wife, mother, or book editor, I am a Christian, a follower of Christ. And this shapes everything that I think or do. I abhor many of the principles that you stand for. I believe that the blood of the millions of infants that are killed each year because they are an inconvenience to the mothers who have conceived them cries out to God from the ground, and He is offended. I believe that it is wrong to take money from those who prosper to give it to those who don't have as much so that they can experience "fairness." You call this taxing the rich. God calls it stealing. I believe that God has established marriage to be between a man and a woman. God tells us in His Word that same-sex relationships are unnatural, shameful, and degrading. You have told us that you want to enact legislation that would, in essence, thumb its nose at God and His requirements for our lives. It isn't a good way to start off a new presidency.

What you need to understand, Mr. Obama, is that in the end, you are simply God's instrument. All men are like grass, God tells us, and that includes you. "The authorities that exist have been established by God," the apostle Paul tells us under the direction of the Holy Spirit. Whether you believe it or not, you will become the president of the United States because God has placed you in that position. I have prayed throughout this campaign, as have many I know, that this would not be the end result, but we have to add, "God's will be done."

But now that we know that this is the will of God for the United States of America, I and my family will pray for you as God would have us to--that you will lead wisely, justly, and in what is truly the best interests of our country. We will also be praying that God will change your heart. You say that you are a Christian, and yet many of us remain unconvinced because of the values you hold, the associations you have. So we will pray that you will truly know the power of the gospel, because there is no greater power. It is the power of salvation for all who believe. And if you do know that power, you will lead with true justice, power, and compassion.

There will be a day when the unborn will no longer be killed, when men will not relate unnaturally to other men and women to women, when poverty and hunger and disease will be eliminated. But the Messiah who will bring these eventualities to pass has already accomplished this. He is the only One who could--there is no other. You are not a messiah, Mr. Obama, and yet you have encouraged your supporters to believe that under your leadership the government will make them happy, pay their mortgages, and put gas in their tanks. The environment will be perfected, and all will experience equity and prosperity as you redistribute the wealth of the nation.

You've made some large promises, and there will undoubtedly be many who will be disappointed when you don't succeed. Perhaps that disappointment will make them realize that hope placed in change, in a person, in a government and its policies--is misplaced hope. The hope that is never misplaced is hope that is built on nothing less than Jesus' blood and righteousness. I pray that you will cling to that hope as you lead our nation.

So although I am disappointed today that you will be our next president, I am not defeated. More than being a citizen of the United States, I am a citizen of the kingdom that is forever. God's truth abideth still, whether you promote it or seek to squelch it. Just a bit of advice, though, from an average citizen--those earthly leaders and nations that seek to promote God's truth generally fare better than those who seek to squelch it. You might want to use the time before now and January to consider and study that. A good place to start is with the rulers Saul and David in 1 and 2 Samuel in the Old Testament. They illustrate these principles well.

I have my doubts about you, Mr. Obama. I have not been impressed by your charisma, your rhetorical skills, or what I have perceived as a general lack of integrity in your character. But my trust is not in chariots, horses, or princes (there's that conservative Christian Bible stuff again). I trust in the name of the Lord our God, and He will accomplish His purposes. For reasons that are far wiser than I could even begin to understand, He has chosen to accomplish them through you. It will be an exciting ride watching how God uses you to accomplish His will on earth, as it is accomplished in heaven.

I will leave you with this, Mr. Obama. Psalm 1 tells us that the man who does not walk in the counsel of the wicked or stand in the way of sinners is blessed. The one who delights in the law of the Lord is like a healthy tree planted by a river that produces fruit and does not wither. You might want to read Psalm 2 to see what God thinks about rulers who take their stand against Him. In that psalm, God warns the rulers of the earth to serve the Lord with fear. May we all serve that Lord with fear that we may be blessed by taking refuge in Him.

Sincerely,
A Concerned Christian American

The Birthday Guy

~wedding photo by LVL Photography


This is Jonathan a few birthdays ago, and the striking young man pictured here is Jonathan as well at nearly age 15. In one picture, Jonathan was considerably shorter than I am. In the other picture--and he's grown since then--he's several inches taller (a good thing). In honor of Jonathan and his birthday, here are a few interesting things about him:

~Jonathan's birth date is surrounded by some very interesting events. He was actually born ten days past his due date. Every day that he was late, I would pray, "Please, God, let him come today," except for one--October 31. On that day, I said, "God, he's already this late. Let's hold off for Halloween." I didn't like the looks of a future of juggling trick or treat and happy birthday. And Jonathan--ever cooperative and fairly inattentive to time--held off till November 3 at 1:23 am, lover of order that he is. Another significant event is Reformation Day, also on October 31. So while our thoughts turn to Martin Luther, John Calvin, and the blessings of the Reformation, those thoughts are quickly followed by thoughts of Jonathan's birthday. And, of course, election day sometimes falls on Jonathan's birthday. Interestingly, Jonathan has a great interest in candy, history, and politics, maybe because of the timing of his birth?

~Jonathan's favorite food is a cheeseburger (plain), his favorite candy is Butterfingers, and his favorite color is green. His favorite fast food, however, is not a place where he can get his favorite food. When Jonathan and his grandpa (one of his favorite people) need a junk food fix, they head south of the border--Taco Bell.

~Jonathan's favorite activities involve electronics--mainly his grandparents' Wii and things computer related.

~Jonathan has definite right-wing leanings, politically speaking. If he were old enough to vote, he'd be voting for McCain/Palin. Along with his favorite political commentator, Rush Limbaugh, Jonathan frequently asks questions like, "Why would anyone want to raise taxes?" He is often listening to Hannity's radio program while doing his homework when I arrive home from work. He also wonders how anyone could be supportive of a candidate who promotes abortion rights. Me too.

~Jonathan's favorite subjects in school are history and Bible history. Name an obscure Old Testament personality or event, and he'll tell you all about it. He can also converse at length on World War II.

~Jonathan's favorite movies are the Star Wars sagas. His favorite sport is NASCAR. And if you want to argue that NASCAR is not a sport, take it up with him. I dare you.

And just to prove how mature Jonathan is at 15, he's doing his homework, right now, at 9:45 pm on his birthday, even though a new Wii game sits quietly on the coffee table, just waiting to be tried out. He has celebrated this evening with family at a restaurant of his choosing, and he's opened his gifts and put together the new Star Wars Lego droid battleship he received, but he's learning--as we all do--that age is accompanied by responsibilities. He has been given a special dispensation, though, to stay up a little late to try out the Wii game--when his homework is done.

Happy birthday, Jonathan!