THIS OUR VALLEY Simplifying the complicated life

 

"... because you are precious in my sight, and honored, and I love you ...” Isaiah 43

Life is complicated. 

I bought my wife a 344 piece puzzle for Christmas. Unlike standard puzzles, it is mostly a circle, with bits and pieces that burst through the edges here and there. Beyond being circular when complete, the pieces themselves are cut into more intricate curves and curls, jagged teeth and curlicues. If that isn’t enough, the picture is a complex mix of shapes and colors with an owl at its heart. And if THAT wasn’t enough, the puzzle bits are quite small, most of which do not interlock with their counterparts and companions. If you try moving any of them across the table, they come apart and need to be put back together when they’ve reached their destination.

When people look at the “344 pieces,” they laugh. “Child’s Play,” they declare, and maybe it is. My ego isn’t so fragile that the thought that it may take us more time to put this together than Yogi Bear would offend me (for we know Yogi is smarter than your average bear). 

The puzzle begins

Still, it is taking time to figure it out, and time is one thing we have in abundance; I have no desire to finish it all in one sitting. My back and my rump can’t handle that sort of commitment anyway.

It is true that standard puzzles go together quickly, but what’s “standard” doesn’t interest me. The delight is in finding solutions, connections, and those occasional “ah ha” moments when the piece you’ve been looking for is found, and fits! The joy, as is often said, is to be experienced in the journey, not in the destination (although it WILL be nice to get it put together eventually).

Puzzles are complicated. So is life. Puzzles used to come in boxes without a picture. One might never know what they were assembling beyond a vague description (scenery, farmhouse, waterfowl, etc.); they wouldn’t know what it would be until it was completed; their enlightenment was deliberately incorporated into the process of the assembly!

It's coming together

Some people want to know what’s happening in advance of what’s happening, but life’s not like that. It unfolds slowly (most of the time) and nothing is revealed until it is revealed. We can make plans, but there is no guarantee our plans will survive their engagement with reality. 

For example, we were having our HVAC system inspected for winter and in the process of seeing that all was well, the inspector noted the hot water tank was rusting out and had developed a small leak. I called around and discovered the cost of a replacement was about quadruple what I’d estimated it should cost to replace. 

The cold water of reality put me into truly hot water financially, but what can you do? When life hands you lemons, you say “Tanks,” and hire a plumber. It takes what it takes, not what I want it to take. 

In the Bible, God says, “Do not fear, for I am with you.” What God says to the community, God says to you and me and everyone else: “Don’t be afraid; if you find yourself in hot water, fear not. My son’s a carpenter, a plumber, and an all-around decent fixer-upper. He knows a thing or two about jigs, jigsaws, and jigsaw puzzles.” I’ll bet he knows a thing or two about hot water tanks, too!

Life is complicated, but God sees the whole picture. God IS the whole picture, and God has a special place for each of us and, in fact, even God feels incomplete until we’ve been pressed right down to where we belong. 

Miraculously, it is right there; don’t you see it? Those curlicues of life we find so confusing help secure us into the living, beating heart of God. There’s no slipping up or sliding out of place in God’s heart, ever! 

And if we slip? Easy peasy – God puts us right back where we belong. So we can enjoy (hot) showers of blessings, for God has figured us out from way back when. So let’s not fret here; let’s enjoy the process of assembly right here in this, our valley. God knows which outie fits each innie of this, our puzzling life.

Keith Axberg writes on matters concerning life and faith. Author of: Who the Blazes is Jesus? Good News for a Vulgar World (available through Amazon in Print and e-book)

THIS OUR VALLEY: A tip o’ the cap to you and yours!

 

"You saved me once, and what is given is always returned. We are in this life to help one another.” Carlo Collodi (The Adventures of Pinocchio)

I own a fair number of hats. I’m not a hat collector, exactly, but over the years I have simply acquired a collection of hats and caps that have made the coat closet a hazard-zone. 

My father always told me to use my head for something other than a hat-rack, and yet I find that has always been one of its most useful features. God gave many people loads of hair, but since he gave me a head so perfect it needs to be exposed to the world, I’ve found it necessary to cover it when I go outside.

Wearing a hat is such a habit that I don’t even go to the mailbox without donning my chapeaux, come rain, shine, blowing snow, or the gloomy gray of cloudy day. 

I’m no fashion maven, but I do tend to ponder which hat to wear on occasions that find me venturing out of doors. During cooler months, I tend to wear my woolen Stetson as it keeps my head toasty warm. In the warmer months I switch off to my other Stetson, which has a mesh lining with some sort of mosquito repellant (it says). Talk about a buzz-kill!

I have found hats with full brims are a nuisance when driving as the back of the hat brushes the head-rests, tipping the caps down over my eyes while I drive. Now, that does keep the sun out of my peepers better than the car’s visors, but it also limits my ability to see the road, traffic, pedestrians, or other stuff of which an attentive driver like me needs to see, so for driving I almost always switch Stetsons out for a baseball cap.

I don’t know why they are called baseball caps, though, as I have a multitude of sports emblems affixed to my hats. My caps cover baseball, football, and hockey major league teams (multiples of each, for what else can friends and family buy for birthdays and Christmas each year for the dude that has everything?), as well as a few college teams. I tend to wear the cap according to the season and who’s playing that day or week.

I also have work-hats. I’ve got one real ratty floppy cap I like to wear when gardening. It has a cord that hangs under the chin that you can cinch up when it gets windy. My beloved partner absolutely hates the hat and is embarrassed for me to be seen in public with it, but not enough to ask me not to work in the yard. 

We compromise, of course, because that’s what lovers do for one another. I just wear it in the back yard where the privacy fence keeps me out of sight of all the neighbors except those directly behind us. Their house is on a higher elevation, but they solved that problem by putting blinds up around their deck so neither of us can see the other when we’re in our backyards.

“Love your neighbor,” says Jesus. I guess privacy fences and blinds has that rule covered, eh?

Finally, because we live in a region that is prone to bouts of cold weather, I also have a variety of knit caps to keep head and ears all toasty warm when the weather gets cold enough to set Frosty the Snowman to shivering. Some of my knitwear has pompoms while others don’t. Some include team logos, while others are a plain and solid sort; the rest have designs knitted into them. 

As I’ve been doing this mental inventory of head-wear, it occurs to me that I do have more caps than heads, so I am truly in need of thinning out my collection. That will be a major goal in 2025. 

As we put 2024 to bed and ring in 2025, I hope that you, too, will all find things to do that will keep you happy and warm in 2025 and beyond. With that, I’ll bid every one of you, with a tip o’ my hat: Have a good day and a Happy New Year wherever you are here in this, our valley!  

Keith Axberg writes on matters concerning life and faith. Author of: Who the Blazes is Jesus? Good News for a Vulgar World (available through Amazon in Print and e-book)

Homily for Christmas Morning 2024

 

Christmas Morning – 12/25/2024

Collect (III): Almighty God, you have given your only-begotten Son to take our nature upon him, and to be born [this day] of a pure virgin: Grant that we, who have been born again and made your children by adoption and grace, may daily be renewed by your Holy Spirit; through our Lord Jesus Christ, to whom with you and the same Spirit be honor and glory, now and for ever. Amen.

Lessons

Isaiah 52:7-10         How beautiful the feet of those announcing peace

        Psalm 98         Sing a new song

        Hebrews 1:1-12 God has anointed (the Son) with righteousness

        John 1:1-14 The WORD became flesh and lived among us

Give ear O heavens and I will speak; let the earth hear the words of my mouth, for I will proclaim the Name of the Lord, and ascribe greatness to our God.

Welcome to Christmas morning, the Feast of the Nativity. 

Last night we celebrated the Mass of the Angels and the Mass of the Shepherds from the Gospel of Luke. This morning we shift gears and are celebrating the Mass of the Word, taken from the Gospel according to Saint John:

“In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word WAS God.”

This is a line that points us back to Genesis – The story of creation – doesn’t it?

“In the beginning, when God began to create heaven and earth, the earth being unformed and void; darkness covered the face of the deep. A WIND from God swept over the water, and God said, ‘Let there be light … and there was light!’” (Tanakh)

John is pointing us back to the story of Creation, and says, “The One who was there at the beginning is here with us now.” This is John’s Christmas story. This is John’s “Feliz Navidad!

My parents were born during the Great Depression, and so they approached life much differently than those of us who grew up in the Boomer years. They learned to make do with what they had, and found value in things we would call junk today. They would repair toasters and appliances, and if something couldn’t be saved, they took it apart and kept all those screws, bolts, lock-washers, and nuts in jars and cans and ratty boxes for “just in case.” My Dad was one of those people.

My Dad also had a heavy old wooden step ladder that was really a ladder in name only. The wood had shrunk so much over the years the hardware barely held it together. You’d open it up and it was old and rickety and had the structural integrity of a set of slinkies. But my Dad liked it, and he used it. It was an 8-footer, so he used it to get up onto the roof to clean out the gutters and drains which were always getting clogged in the fall (especially on the part of the house that had a flat roof – a really stupid design for this area).

When Dad got out the ladder, you knew things were about to “Get Real.”

He’d clamber up that ladder (which would wobble and shake like you were in the middle of an earthquake that was between 8 & 9 on the Richter scale) and pretty soon you’d look up and see clods of dirt, needles, leaves, pine cones, and all sorts of debris flying off the roof like a flock of birds when they catch sight of the cat sneaking up on them.

Christmas is kind of like my Dad’s old wooden step ladder. When you see it, you know things are about to get real. That’s the way John sees it (in the Gospel).

In the beginning, the universe was a mess, so God got real. God turned on the work lights, got things organized: Land, here. Water, there. Stars and planets in their courses, and so on. And finally, in the fullness of time, the human race, male and female and everything in between, we were created in the image of God; in the image of God created he them, created he US. 

“In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word WAS God, and nothing was created where the Word wasn’t involved, from the beginning, from the get-go,” says John.

What I find interesting is that John doesn’t care about Adam and Eve and the downfall of the human race; he  isn’t interested in what went wrong. What God started in the beginning is what God continues to work on today, according to John.

“Let there be light,” were God’s first words in Genesis. “What came into being was life, and that life was the light of ALL the people,” says the Gospel.

That’s important: “All the people.”

Every now and then Barb will ask me to give her a hand. Sometimes she’ll be taking out her earrings in the bathroom and the little back will slip out of her fingers because they’re so small; it’s easy to lose your grip and drop them. But they’re also hard to find because they’re not only small, but sort of clear.

When that happens, I come a-running, and I always bring my 5-cell flashlight because, well, things are about to "get real." Nothing as precious and necessary as the tiny back to an earring is going to make a great escape – not if I have anything to say or do about it -- not on MY watch!

That means I usually have to get down on my hands and knees and sometimes even on my belly, shining the light parallel to the floor seeking that which has been lost. What I find amazing is that we vacuum and dust the floors every week, and yet when I get  down there, there is so much I see we’ve missed. But what’s important isn’t the dust; it’s finding what we need to restore Barb’s jewelry to wholeness. 

Reuniting the earring and the back-clip is the goal. The lint is immaterial, and we’ll deal with that the next time we vacuum and dust, but what’s important is the restoration, the reunion, the making whole.

Christmas is a celebration of the God who has brought out the rickety ladder, because there’s stuff that needs to be cleaned out and cleared away so that the home’s infrastructure will work properly. Jesus, the carpenter, the son of a carpenter is born and has come for a time such as this. Jesus is God’s way of saying, “Things are about to get real.”

John tells us, too, that Jesus is the light, and the purpose of the light is NOT to expose dirt and dust, but to find that which was lost. We are God’s great treasure, God’s jewels, God’s earrings, and Jesus has come to seek, find, and make us whole!

God does not shine the light on us to give us the third degree like some hard-boiled detective; God has delivered Jesus, to shine God’s glorious light into our hearts to reveal the treasures that lie within. That, as I say, is John’s Christmas story.

So, Merry Christmas, Feliz Navidad, and (in the words of my own ancestors) God Jul!

Amen

Sermon by the Rev. Keith Axberg (Ret.), delivered to St. Paul’s (Mount Vernon, WA). 12/25/2024

THIS OUR VALLEY There’s peace behind the curtain

 

"The Lord has taken away the judgments against you, and turned away your enemies” Zephaniah 3

One of the easiest mistakes we make during the Christmas season (which, as I’ve mentioned countless times before is actually “Advent”), is to think it is all about, or mostly about making merry, wishing people season’s greetings, shopping for loved ones, or (if you’re really into that silly gift-card-channel) finding romance in and amongst broken lives found in small towns all across America.

No wonder we miss the “reason for the season.” 

Of course, we can’t forget all the magic involving flying reindeer, jolly elves, dreams of fresh-fallen snow on holiday inns, rascally waifs left home alone, Griswold house decorating, playing hide and seek throughout the Nakatomi Plaza office building (and let’s not forget Scrooge in all his iterations, or George Bailey, either), and so on.

No wonder we continue to miss the “reason for the season.”

The season is so cluttered with signs and symbols, we struggle to make sense of it (if we even bother trying to make sense). Perhaps we need to look behind this curtain of chaos.

Commingled signs and symbols ignore the story in the Gospel of Luke that is lying at the base of the tree: a pregnant couple making their way from home in Nazareth to Papa’s ancestral home in Bethlehem, only to be turned away from the original Holiday Inn and forced to have their baby in the local barnyard, laying him in a food-trough, and being visited by shepherds who do little more than oo and ah at the cuddly little tyke.

Spoiler alert: The Magi and special Star are found in a different book (Gospel of Matthew) and don’t show up until January 6 (Feast of the Epiphany), but they still get thrown into our Christmas cards, carols, and sundry impressions made upon us of what happened over twenty centuries ago in the levant, where Africa, Europe, and Asia meet.

This is not the time and space where one can lay out the Christmas story in full (stories, really), or the practical and theological implications those stories entail. Rather, as I did in my previous column, I invite you to pause in the midst of this seasonal chaos and listen.

Do you hear what I hear? Listen to the voice of God, whispering in the darkness: “I see you huddled in the cold: alone, sick, hungry, naked, afraid. I will come. 

“I see you ranting, raving, raging against intolerable events, situations, and the abusive powers that be. I am coming.

“I see you struggling against the storms of life, looking into the abyss, seeing only darkness, hearing the thundering hoofbeats of the approaching horsemen of the apocalypse, finding only despair and deep dread for what the future may hold for you, your children, and your children’s children. I have come!”

What voice is this? A poor child of a small insignificant family, from a small insignificant town, in a small insignificant corner of a great magnificent empire? 

Who?  A child whose birth scared a tyrant so badly that he massacred numerous infants in an effort to destroy the threat; the child of a refugee family forced to flee their home country for the sake of their survival; a child who would always have far more in common with the lowliest beggar than the loftiest ruler, emperor, or oligarch.

What’s the meaning of this? The trees, lights, noise, smells and bells of the season are little more than a smoke screen that serve us much like the bushes in the Garden served to hide Adam and Eve from their shame when God dropped in for a visit. God did not desire their death, but reconciliation, restoration, and spiritual reunion. 

That’s God's desire for us, too. As the prophet said in this column’s opening line: The Lord has taken away the judgments against (us) ... That’s good news!

Our call is to shift from simply mouthing platitudes of Peace and Good Will, and to actually making peace, being of good will, finding healing, feeding one another, refreshing one another, honoring one another, and behaving honorably – to be the wind that sings to the earth: Do you hear what I hear?

Let us take time this season to incarnate the love and peace of God that lies behind the curtain here in this, our valley (and beyond). Merry Christmas!

Keith Axberg writes on matters concerning life and faith. Author of: Who the Blazes is Jesus? Good News for a Vulgar World (available through Amazon in Print and e-book)

ADVENT 2 (Year C) – PEACE

Collect:  Merciful God, who sent your messengers the prophets to preach repentance and prepare the way for our salvation: Give us grace to heed their warnings and forsake our sins, that we may greet with joy the coming of Jesus Christ our Redeemer; who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and forever. Amen.

Lessons: Baruch 5:1-9 God will lead Israel with joy

or Malachi 3:1-4 I am sending my messenger to prepare the way

Cant. 16 (Song of Zechariah) You (John) shall be called the prophet of the Most High

Philippians 1:3-11 I pray that your love may overflow more and more

Luke 3:1-6 (T)he voice of one crying out in the wilderness

Give ear O heavens, and I will speak; let the earth hear the words of my mouth, for I will proclaim the Name of the Lord, and ascribe greatness to our God.

“Merciful God, (You) sent your messengers the prophets to preach repentance and prepare the way for our salvation. Give us GRACE to heed their warnings and forsake our sins …”

That’s our prayer for today. The First Sunday of Advent our focus was on HOPE. If you remember the Gospel from last week, Jesus shared a little about what we often call “The End Times,” and for 2,000 years we have tried to figure out when that might be. 

It’s really a silly little exercise in futility, when you think about it. We’ve seen empires come and go, kingdoms rise and fall; wars and rumors of war swirl all around us all the time; pestilence and famine; the economy booms and busts time and time again.

Jesus doesn’t so much point us to the future, looking through some magic telescope. He’s really compressing time and space and says, “This is the world we live in, but in the midst of all the clouds and smoke, see the Son of Man coming in power and great glory, so fear not; hold fast to hope; hold your head high and look, for your redemption is at hand, in sight, and drawing near.”

What he’s saying is that while the world is filled with anxiety and dread, we don’t need to be, for we can see God coming to the rescue. That gives us hope.

It’s not the future; it is the reality we live in. God brings comfort to every generation; Don’t hang your heads in shame; don’t curl up into a fetal position and close your eyes in fear. Look! See! Behold! 

Salvation is right at our doorstep!

These are all action words. We have HOPE because the author of hope is right here, at hand – not far far away.

* * * * * * * *

Today we shift our focus from hope to PEACE. 

It is the Peace of God that Passes all understanding, isn’t it? Peace isn’t the lack of war or conflict, it’s being able to breathe – physically, spiritually.

Can you say, “Shalom” without exhaling? When we breathe, we receive peace. 

Did you ever play hide and seek with little children, and you give them to a count of 10 or 30 to hide, and when you say, “GO!” they stand there stomping their feet trying to go in 50 directions at one time. Their brains have short-circuited and they don’t know where to go, where to hide, so they run in circles for a few seconds until they can get some traction and find that special hiding place.

This is the fight/flight reflex at work. We panic, so we can’t think. 

Anxiety is like that, which is why we worry about the future. 

And then we worry that our faith isn’t very good, because we’re worried and somewhere we got this idea that if we’re worried, we’re not trusting God, and if we’re not trusting God, God will get all hot and bothered by our lack of faith and maybe blow some heavenly raspberries at us when we pray and ask for help.

Well, I’m here to tell you today, that image of God has got it all backwards. 

We worry, of course. We worry because we’re human; we don’t know what tomorrow will bring. 

We know what it’s like when the money runs out before the month does, or the car dies and you can’t hardly afford a jump, let alone a new battery. We’ve gotten the note from school about a special school trip that will cost $20, plus another $20 for food and incidentals, and you haven’t got $2 to give your child, let alone $40 – the shame. Most of us have been there at one point or another. 

Worry is natural. It can also be inspirational – a gift from God. 

It isn’t the opposite of faith. In fact, it can often serve as a back road to faithfulness and godly living. It invites us to think, plan, and be creative. 

Do you remember that Aesop fable with the industrious ant who builds her nest and gathers food and water, and all that good stuff while the grasshopper fiddles around all summer? Summer ends, the grasshopper is hungry, and the ant slams the door. “There’s not enough for me and you,” she says.

That story always bothered me as a Christian. Where’s the empathy? Where’s the sympathy? Where’s the love? We’re taught to look down upon the lazy grasshopper, aren’t we? 

We probably recall the American fable where the first English settlers at James Town were struggling with survival, and Captain John Smith declared that those who would not work would not eat. We understand those stories. We’re inspired by those stories. But as Christians? We want the ant to share. We want the ant to care. We want the ant to work with the grasshopper to find a solution that honors and respects the dignity of each.

Perhaps the music of the grasshopper served the community all summer in a way the ants didn’t even think about; maybe it helped the ants to whistle while they worked. Not “lazy” – but different gifts that each contributes to the welfare of the whole.

Jesus tells us God cares for the lilies of the field, notices when a sparrow drops from the sky. How much more does God love each of us? 

Worry is natural, but it invites us to reach out to God and to one another and trust that working together, we’ll get through the heat of summer, as well as the cold and dark of winter. 

In the Gospel today, we are introduced to John the Baptizer. Luke tells us he went into all the region around the Jordan, “proclaiming a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins.”

Again, I don’t know about you, but sometimes I find those words “repentance” and “sin” quite burdensome.  I grew up in a church that had a very clear central message: “Jesus loves me, this I know, for the Bible tells me so; Little ones to him belong, we are weak but he is strong.” 

As much as we emphasize the love of God in church, though, there’s always that niggling little voice bouncing around that echo chamber between my ears, whispering a little more loudly than it should that the fires of perdition burn hot, and all it takes is one mis-step, one accident, one forgotten Hail Mary or Our Father and you can forget about all that “love” stuff, because God needs kindling and this time “you’re it!”

When John the Baptizer yells out “You brood of Vipers,” you know that includes we good church-folk, right? We bring John the Baptist out every year during Advent and he turns us into the Church of the Quivering Brethren! 

Brood of vipers. Forest of worthless scrub brush in need of clearing, cleaning, and burning.

He reminds me of my Fourth Grade school teacher, Ms. Legaz. She doled out homework by the ton. She was a harsh taskmaster. There was fire in her eyes, and with just a look kids would evaporate.

One day, Ms. Legaz was called away; she had to go to the office. She gave us an assignment to keep us busy while she was out for a few minutes. Of course, as soon as she was out the door, the class erupted with the kinetic energy of a Cat. 4 hurricane. 

My good friend Gary Sly stood watch at the classroom door and when he saw Ms. Legaz coming down the hallway, her stiletto heels clicking on the tiles, he alerted the class of her return. But they were being so noisy and inattentive, they didn’t hear him (but I did. I always paid attention, and I was trying to do the assignment. I really was). 

So Gary was waving his arms, yelling, trying to get the class to settle down when Ms. Legaz came up behind him, and suddenly, I knew there would be thunder and lightning and you could almost see the smoke of  brimstone pumping out her ears. But then …

What’s amazing is: she didn’t yell and scream. She didn't rain down death and destruction. Everyone returned to their seats. She didn’t punish us. She didn’t chastise us. And she didn’t call us a brood of vipers. She simply said, “You know better than that,” and then went on with whatever it was we were doing before she had been called away.

That word “Repent” is metanoia (Greek) and teshuva (Hebrew) doesn’t exactly mean to stop doing wrong, or stop doing bad things. It means to turn, to change one’s mind, one’s direction, one’s attitude. It means to return to a better place, a better state. 

The heart of teshuva is to return – to go home. The Hebrews didn’t just escape from Egypt. They were returning home – the land of promise. Teshuva.

Life is sometimes chaotic, like the classroom when the teacher is away. John is standing in the doorway, like my friend Gary, calling us to pay attention, to settle down, to focus.

Now John was a crusty old salt. He says there is one coming mightier than him, the thong of whose sandal he’s not worthy to stoop and untie.

John looks at the rowdy crowd and he tells them clearly, “If it were up to me, I’d take a flamethrower to this place! I’d take an axe and clear this worthless scrub-forest.”

But here’s the surprise.

God comes and lifts up the torch, not to burn us down, but to help us see better. God sets aside the axe and, instead, pulls out pruning shears to trim and shape our lives. 

God hands us a shovel, not to dig our own graves, but to help fill in potholes and smooth out those irritating speed-bumps we try to dodge in life.

Why? 

So that we will see the God who heals and restores the world, and who invites us to come in and be a part of that work because, in the end, God really does love us, and creation. That’s what gives us peace. That’s what allows us to breathe. And that’s what we have to share with the world in these anxious times. You are loved. We are loved. 

In some ways, I think God shrugs her shoulders, like Ms. Legaz and says, “You can do better. We can do better. Let’s get back to work.”

Advent is a season of hope, peace, joy, and love. Each week more light is brought into this sacred space. May God grant us the courage to receive that light and carry it forth in the Name of the One who is to come.

In the Name of God, the source of our Hope, Peace, Joy, and Love. Amen

Delivered by the Rev. Keith Axberg (Retired) to Christ Episcopal Church, Anacortes, WA, December 8, 2024

 

THIS OUR VALLEY: Don’t buy into Black Friday madness!

"Develop an interest in life … The world is so rich, simply throbbing with rich treasures, beautiful souls, and interesting people. Forgive yourself.” Henry Miller

Angel ornament handcrafted by friend Gladys Fee ca. 1979

I woke up this morning to a thousand ads in my email in-box. Black Friday is upon us, although I wonder if there is any such thing as Black Friday. There was a time that was the day after Thanksgiving, and noted for shoppers storming the stores and malls for “the best deals of the season” (although that claim was always dubious in the best of times.). 

The irony has never been lost, that a day devoted to thanking God for family, friends, football, and feasting is followed by a day of mob violence and commercial madness.

Black Friday, for me, is a day of keeping the shades down, the lights off, and allowing the tsunami of local spendthrifts to crash headlong onto the rocks of financial ruin in their vain efforts to save a buck here or there. Madness. Sheer madness!

I’m not immune to these local customs, of course. I will do my holiday duty in supporting the economy; I just won’t do it today. I will spread it out, and I will do what I can with what I have in hand. I have never subscribed to the idea of going into debt for the holiday.

I am old enough to remember when some of the local stores in Ballard (where I grew up) had Christmas Clubs. People would open (and fund) special accounts specifically for the holidays. Instead of paying interest on money borrowed, they earned interest on these savings accounts – paying themselves for their annual expenses. The stores benefited by having a dependable supply of customers, come December.

We didn’t have a lot of rules in the house in which I grew up, but one I have tried to live by was my father’s maxim: Pay yourself first. Savings accounts earned about four percent interest, home loans cost about six to eight percent, and consumer debt (credit cards) were capped at twelve percent (by law!). Anything over twelve percent was illegal; it was called Usury (excessive interest that violated any sense of decency). 

Sadly, those laws went the way of the dinosaur, blown away by the great Asteroid of Greed that accompanied the oil embargoes of the 1970s. Today we’re lucky to make two percent interest on savings and our credit card rates run 21-25 percent (according to recent consumer credit reports). 

My father’s other bit of financial wisdom was this: Live according to your means. That’s hard to do. Not because the world is so expensive (which it is), but because we have been trained to want more and more, told we deserve everything the next person has, conditioned to believe that greed is normal, that greed is good, and that we’ll lose out if we let someone else have what we want first. No one wants to be a loser.

It’s tough ignoring all the seasonal “specials” we get blasted with on the telly, emails, or streaming media. It’s hard, but not impossible. 

I want to suggest there are other ways to approach the holidays and assure my readers that as fun and “right” as it may feel to spend money buying gifts and fretting over what to get one another and doing everything the holidays seem to demand of us. And what is that “other way” you ask?

Pause. 

It cuts against the grain, but find your limits; take time out and know it is OK to decline invitations when you’re not up to it. Jesus took time out from his busy schedule to get away, to meditate and pray, to reconnect with earth, soul, and God. Remember, if you look at the upcoming holidays and find yourself saying, “Jesus, not again!” that is as much a prayer as the Our Father or the Hail Mary. If Jesus needed to pause, how much more the rest of us?

The world goes cold, dark, and silent this time of year. It’s not dead; it’s resting. We don’t need to chase away the darkness. Joy may be found in the peace and quiet of new-fallen snow. The light of God’s presence may be seen in the hearts and souls of those we meet, if only we’d look. Forget Santa Claus. Embrace the Santa Pause here in this, our valley – and be thankful.

Keith Axberg writes on matters concerning life and faith. Author of: Who the Blazes is Jesus? Good News for a Vulgar World (available through Amazon in Print and e-book)

 

Chicken Terry-bull Yucky

"Fear is a question: What are you afraid of, and why? Your fears are a treasure-house of self-knowledge if you explore them.” Marilyn Ferguson

The other day I needed to reheat some barbecued chicken for dinner. We have a new microwave, replacing one that was ruined by rainwater when our roof developed a leak a few months back. So we have a new-fangled microwave oven with all the bells and whistles one could possibly want for reheating coffee or, as in this case, chicken.

I put in the bird, set it to reheat, pushed the Start button, and busied myself with my other dinner-time tasks. The machine has built-in sensors that adjust the time and power levels automatically, so I was interested to see how that would work out. Electronic gizmos and gadgets fascinate me, so I couldn’t hardly wait. It was almost like Christmas morning!

At the appointed time, the microwave signaled it was done (with a delightful little tune – none of this old-fashioned ping or ding – the oven called for the chef, like the Piper for the rats (or was it children?)). I pulled the casserole dish out, but what greeted me was not the hot, fresh, delectable meal I had anticipated, but the petrified cremains of a fossilized pterodactyl! From barbecued chicken to chicken terry-bull yucky, in one fell swoop!

Fortunately there were enough other side dishes and options to gnaw on, so we did not go hungry, but I did discern there’s a learning curve that comes with using new equipment. I was not discouraged. I learned a long time ago, when life throws you lemons (or in this case, when life throws you petrified birds), sometimes you’re going to swing and miss, and that’s OK.

Things don’t always work out the way we think they can or should. That’s life. We know all the cliches about getting back on the horse that “throw’d yuh,” or We have to crawl before we walk, or Every journey begins with a single step. 

I suspect those have become cliches because the acts of trying and failing are so common amongst us mere mortals, we need reminding so that we don’t become discouraged. How many filaments did Edison have to try before he found the one that would keep that bulb floating over his head in the comics lit, eh?

I have heated and reheated a number of dishes since my misadventure with the barbecued poultry-geist. None is a culinary masterpiece, of course, but each has been as edible as is possible for a dish that has been zapped. 

Fresh meals are always prepared the old fashioned way – by my wife. Reheats are my specialty; fresh eats are hers.

One of the things I appreciate about new things isn’t just their novelty or newness (although nothing beats the smell of a brand new car). What I like are the challenges they pose in getting to know what they do and how they work. 

The other day I was watching a video by a dude who identifies things he “didn’t know until I was in my thirties.” He showed how the automobile sun visor can extend when turned toward the side window. For decades I have cursed how sun visors would never go where I needed them most. Then he showed me. Duh! He learned that trick forty years sooner than me!

I wonder if that feature is included in the truck’s manual (which I’ve never read).

Live and learn. 

There was a time I would have rather died than admit I didn’t know something. I was terrified that people would think I was as dumb as I often felt. But admitting to myself and others the things I do not know or know how to do has simultaneously given others the relief of knowing they are not the only luddites in this world of ours. 

We are humans, we are finite, and we have more wisdom and experience collectively than we do alone. 

As FDR told us many moons ago, we have nothing to fear but fear, itself. That’s a lesson I need to learn repeatedly, for while a microwave cooks quickly, my brain is a slow cooker. But that’s OK, for I’m no chicken (spring or otherwise) here in this, our valley.

Keith Axberg writes on matters concerning life and faith. Author of: Who the Blazes is Jesus? Good News for a Vulgar World (available through Amazon in Print and e-book)