Christmas Reflections

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I love this season of Christmas.  I can barely wait each year for the afternoon when our family exchanges ornaments and decorates the tree; for the way we laugh and retell the stories, and one by one weigh down the branches with memories new and old.  I treasure the simple, unexpected moments of togetherness when all of us end up laying around in the living room with the tree lights low, the music playing and the easy conversation that flows.  I love the huge family and friend gatherings with great food, little kids running around and the pleasure of being with those we care about.  Even the kitchen chaos has had a festive feel to it lately... like last night when each of us on crazy schedules came tumbling in at different times, ate our dinner, snacked on ginger cookies, watched the gingerbread house take shape on the table (thanks to Brooklyn), and dipped into the candies meant to decorate it. These are the moments I love and cherish so much.  They are such wonderful gifts.

But there is one gift I cherish more, and sometimes I forget.   It's only when I stop and intentionally set aside some quiet moments to reflect, to pull away from all the hustle and noise, pressure and distraction, that I remember. 

Amidst all the wonderful gifts, there is something infinitely more....the most immeasurable, indescribable, invaluable gift of all: God's gift of Himself to me -- to all of us. He is the gift of fresh, new beginnings; the gift of forgiven mistakes, forgotten pasts, and clean slates.  He is the gift of freedom for our souls. He is Christmas.

A couple thousand years ago, at just the perfect moment -planned before the beginning of time- God did the impossible.  He became small. The creator and mastermind behind all that we might wrap our wildest imaginations around, willingly inserted Himself into time and history, in the form of a helpless baby, born to a peasant girl who was engaged to a carpenter.  And His birth was announced to the shepherds, of course.  God lit up the heavens with stars and angel-choirs singing -- a show for the lowly and lonely and overlooked. 

This is what God always does.  He comes to those of us that want and need him most. He becomes small enough to be born in us,  if we choose to make any room at all for Him in our own soul's manger -- right there in the mess of it all.  And then the Miracle grows in us.  God fills us and spills out of us.  We get to be transformed daily, if we choose, because the creator is lovingly at work within us.

And just like the virgin Mary, who said "yes" to being a vessel wherein Christ could dwell, we have the same choice to make.  Are we willing to say yes, even the tiniest yes, to having God dwell in us?  Are we willing, even when we don't know what it means, when we're afraid, when we doubt, when we're confused and lost in our messy lives, to say yes?  

If we are, if we're willing to make any room at all for God in us, I can't help but believe that we might finally experience a widening of our imaginations and catch a glimpse of Christmas' true meaning and best gift.

Merry Christmas to you all.

words and images © copyright Melody Armstrong 2016

...anticipation

I'm sitting in our living room this morning with a hot mocha in a favourite mug, just enjoying the soft glow of our Christmas tree and the hush that still rests over the house.  The kids are sleeping in (one of their long- awaited holiday pleasures) and a quiet anticipation of my own fills the stillness of this moment.  

It's advent --the season of waiting, anticipating, longing.  In two short days, Christians all over the globe will celebrate together the coming of our Saviour, Jesus.    

But this moment, right here, is about the waiting, the believing that something good is still on the way.  It is about remembering the promise of hope for the all the nations, the promise of hope for me and for you. In every sorrow, in every question, in every hardship, there is assurance that help and salvation is on the way.

^"5 My soul is quiet and waits for God alone. My hope comes from Him. ⁶ He alone is my rock and the One Who saves me. He is my strong place. I will not be shaken. ⁷ My being safe and my honor rest with God. My safe place is in God, the rock of my strength. ⁸ Trust in Him at all times, O people. Pour out your heart before Him. God is a safe place for us." Psalm 62:5-8

  
I love to imagine how all those years ago, in the presence of humble shepherds lying out under the stars with their sheep, a mighty angel of the Lord appeared and lit up the entire landscape with the shining presence and glory of God.  His appearance alone would have made anyone tremble in fear and amazement.  But the the good news he proclaimed, how could they have known it would not only blaze in their own hearts forever, but that it would ignite the heart of every believer down through the ages? Can you imagine what it would have been like?  The heavens radiant with God's presence and a thunderous chorus of praise filling the skies....all of it to announce the coming  of one who would save, who would love, who would lay his life down so we could really live.  

"...Don't be afraid!" he said.  "I bring you the most joyful news ever announced, and it is for everyone!  The Savior --yes, the Messiah, the Lord-- has been born tonight in Bethlehem!  How will you recognize him? You will find a baby wrapped in a blanket lying in a manger!"  Suddenly, the angel was joined by a vast host of others--the armies of heaven--praising God:"Glory to God in the Highest heaven," they sang, "and peace on earth for all those pleasing him."

Luke 2:10-14 (TLB Living Bible)

My wish for you and I is that we would treasure these last moments of waiting before Christmas day arrives.  That we would acknowledge our needs, and revel in the hope of a Saviour and provider who promises to meet us right where we need him most, and every other space in between.  My prayer for you comes from the beautiful words of Ephesians 1: 19-21 (TLB. TheLivingBible):

^19" I pray that you will begin to understand how incredibly great his power is to help those who believe him. It is that same mighty power ²⁰ that raised Christ from the dead and seated him in the place of honor at God’s right hand in heaven, ²¹ far, far above any other king or ruler or dictator or leader. Yes, his honor is far more glorious than that of anyone else either in this world or in the world to come."

Love, Hope, Joy and a Merry Christmas to you all,

Melody

the weeds in me....

My sister is a wonderful gardener, a real gardener, not just a wanna-be like me.  Last spring she gave me a truck load of transplants to kick start my new flower beds and I couldn't wait to put them in. 

But before the planting....before a flower bed can start to take shape, I know I've got my work cut out for me.  The ground is hard and full of weeds.  The soil isn't ready.  

For the record, weeding is hard.  It's tedious and pain-staking.  It's also critical to a beautiful garden.  So....I dig.  I bend and pull.  I turn soil and follow the roots right to their beginning.  I don't let one little weed go, because if I do, I know it will reproduce faster than anything good in that ground.  

That's the way it is with weeds.  If we don't deal with them, they take right over and choke out the beauty. 

Before long, my back aches and everything inside of me screams that there must be an easier way.  But no!!  There is never an easy way to true beauty.  So I keep on going, adding to the weedy pile of ugly but tenacious roots till the soil has all been turned and the weeds are gone.

Then comes the HOPE -- I can finally plant those seedlings of hope that become the BEAUTY I dream of all winter. 

Tender shoots finally have a place to be planted, nurtured and grow.  

But the hard stuff comes first.  That's spring for me -- that season of dealing with the hard stuff, even while glimpsing the gifts of new beginnings around me.  

So...I hope you will permit me a bit of a rant, just in case I'm not the only one who struggles in spring.....

Many people count spring as one of their favourite seasons.  Not me.  I don't mean to be a spring scrooge.  I am grateful for all the precious gifts that come with spring like longer daylight hours, kids playing later in the neighbourhood when I should be sending them to bed,  birdsong through newly opened doors, buds forming on every branch and crocuses scattered along the walking path.  I'll be the first to admit that something magical happens in me when those first shades of green begin spreading like blankets everywhere, and there's no question that the gentle fragrances of rain and apple tree blossoms and lilacs are some of life's most sensual gifts.  But for me, spring can still be hard.

Where I live, a good part of spring is brown and cold.  And, it's the season when all my running and rushing and commitments catch up with me and I feel dog tired.  Instead of spring cleaning and diving eagerly into new projects, I'm often scraping bottom -- dragging to complete what I've already started.

It's the season where all the weeds I've left unattended in my life, begin sprouting up everywhere and I'm forced to take a closer look at those things that need to be pulled up.  I know that I'm going to have to dig deep and feel the pain.

I don't want the beautiful things God is doing in my life to be choked out by deep-rooted weeds of sin.

So, I call out to the Master Creator, the Designer of my life, the Maker of my dreams, the One who calls me His own.  I know it's only His loving hands that can truly tend the garden of my soul.   

I come to the end of myself, to that place where I just can't do any more, that place where I'll just never be able to measure up and fix all the wrongs, that place where no matter how much I try, it's just not enough to pull out of the hole I've dug myself into -- and there I find Jesus.  There I find the One who saves!  

I grew up hearing the phrase "Jesus Saves."  And now I get it -- after all these years.  Yes,  there is One who saves, who rescues, who delights in making right from all the wrong....who heals my brokenness and turns my mourning into dancing, who lovingly breaks up the hard ground and digs deep enough to get the weedy roots while tenderly protecting the beauty He sees (even the stuff that's still to surface.)

When friends used to tell me that my christian faith was just a crutch, I used to disagree.  Not any more.  I've lived enough years now to realize that it doesn't take long to reach the end of myself, the end of my independence, the end of my own strength, the end of my own strivings.  Yes, do I ever need a Savior to lean on!  I really don't want to live any other way.

And so......please try to be patient with me, even as I try to be patient with myself.  No doubt, the weeding process can be a little ugly.  But join me in keeping a look-out for the flowers He's planted-- they'll be in full bloom before you know it.

With love,

Melody

words and images © copyright Melody Armstrong 2014

in the shadows

The weight of pain sits heavy in the shadows.  

My heart aches for so many of you, dear friends.  If only words were enough.  If only I could hug you all the way to wholeness.  If only....... anything to lessen your pain and make this journey easier.  

This poem is for you.....

 feeling lost again

journeying in the shadows

dark halting my steps

half-seeing

heart-frenzied 

by the deafening sound 

of fear 

pulsing silent...

  this heaviness 

stretches places 

already shadow-thin

within

and how to mend a 

thread-bare soul

with strands of light 

so frail?

oh Savior, save!

rescue me with courage

set for me

a path anew

flooded 
in the light of You

where my foot is sure

and my heart hears

only

the love in

your whisper.

Psalm 27:1 "The Lord is my light and my salvation--whom shall I fear?  The Lord is the stronghold of my life--of whom shall I be afraid."

words and images © copyright Melody Armstrong 2013

first frost

this photo taken by Garth Schimpf --thank you for noticing....and sharing your creative eye.  

Everything was shrouded in a blanket of minuscule, frosty icicles when we woke this morning.  Wasn’t it just four days ago that my friend and I went out for a walk and ended up swimming in the river because the sun was shining so warmly we just couldn’t resist?

I guess I shouldn’t be so surprised.  A frost like this can occur at any time.  I experienced a little frost (and melt! thankfully) of my own this summer.  It was just hurtful words, but let’s face it, they really are worse than sticks and stones sometimes.  And as soon as they landed, I felt a chilly, white coolness spread right across my heart ---that frosty protection that deadens the senses and takes a little of the sting away.  

The only problem with a heart-frost is that it is not selective. Allowing that coolness to spread wide and thin means losing all the warmth.  This is not the inner climate I want to live with -- no way.  So I prayed for a melt.  I prayed for warmth and sunshine.  

Before I knew it, the beautiful thaw began----and there laid my heart, the frosty white in shadows, melting in sunshine patterns till all was green again. 

Maybe it’s not coincidence that just two days ago my blog randomly posted a little piece from the past called “winter white forgiveness.”  Although I have no idea how it happened, I see how beautifully it connected to my thoughts today as I looked out over my backyard and saw the real-life melt, right before my eyes.

The warmth of God’s grace is a mighty and miraculous thing!  

p.s. if you live anywhere near me, don‘ forget to cover your plants tonight.  Haha!  

words and images (except where cited) © copyright Melody Armstrong 2013

The Mended Tea Towel...for my mom!

It was just an old tea towel.  It caught me off guard, but it shouldn’t have.  I’ve seen it so many times before, with other things.  There in my mother’s kitchen, folded and hanging neatly on the stove was a blue and white tea towel that had been carefully mended.  Even then, with her failing eyesight, my mother still managed to mend things beautifully and often invisibly.  

The very fact that this tea towel still existed at all is what moved my heart that morning.  Why didn’t she just throw it away?  Well, I guess because it was perfectly good except for the hole.  My mom has always had the gift of seeing value and worth in something.  She could take an item that others had  no choice but to discard, and give it a second life.  Her careful pinning and meticulous attention to detail produced  patches and mends that were rarely noticeable. She didn't seem to mind putting in the time it required either.  And it did take time.  To her, this process of caring and restoring was a simple, natural and everyday thing.  I see it as extraordinary.

It isn’t just things that my mother mended, like tea towels or a favorite shirt that my husband couldn't part with. She mended people too.  She still does.  I think about all the mended people that have sat in my mother’s kitchen through the years.  I’m one of them.  So many of us were broken, worn out, stained and feeling worthless.  But she saw all of us differently.  In her eyes, we had great value.  We were worth saving and restoring.  In fact, we were perfectly good except for the holes.  She knew what we could become with some loving, careful attention and a lot of time.  It was just a simple, everyday thing.

There were people in my mom’s mending basket who I thought were almost impossible to deal with.  I remember as a kid wondering when she would ever give up on them.  I think of the time and energy she poured into so many lives….and the heartache.  Broken people can be hard to mend.  But she wasn’t afraid to tackle anything that she deemed worthwhile.  I love that about my mom. I see now that I really should have paid more attention to this everyday part of my mother’s life.  I can sew on a button and I’ve even tried mending a few items, but I clearly lack my mother’s skills.  She really is a master.  I can only hope that I have somehow learned to apply this skill to people the way my mother does.

She has shown me so much about God’s great love for people; the way He cherishes those who are broken, worn out, stained and discarded.  He sees them the way they could be with some careful attention and His loving hands upon them.  He knows they are valuable and He paid the highest price for them by allowing His own son Jesus to be nailed to a cross --surrendering his life for all humanity.  This single act of love alone brings wholeness and restoration that reminds me of my mom’s invisible patches.  To God, we are perfectly good except for the holes.  We just need to be mended.     -April 2009 for MY amazing mom.

HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY TO ALL OF YOU AMAZING MOM'S OUT THERE!!!

words and images © copyright melody armstrong 2013

lost keys and sheep

It was around this time last year that my passion for photography got me in trouble again.  This time, it was some old barns and a prairie landscape that grabbed my attention.  I pulled off the road and jumped out of my van for a couple quick shots with my trusty point-and-shoot in hand and my keys tucked in my pocket.  Just beyond the three barns, a moody sky sat on the horizon promising rain from it's dark billowy clouds.  A perfect backdrop for my photos.  

     
Giddy and intoxicated with a silliness that comes over me when I'm free to chase beauty,I stood at the edge of the road and took my first shot.  Then I skipped through the ditch to the barbed-wire fence for another one.  Then back to the road. Then back across the ditch towards the field again.  I was ALL OVER THE PLACE just snapping away and loving it.

I decided to crawl through the barbed-wire fence (getting only a little snagged) so I could walk into the field and get closer to the barns.  I was about thirty yards in and grinning from ear to ear when I suddenly realized with an unnameable dread that my keys were no longer in my pocket.  “You’ve GOT to be kidding!” I said right out loud to no one.  I started patting myself down like I was under arrest, frantic to find keys somewhere on my body.  But, no keys!  Unbelieveable!!   In the one clear moment of thought that followed, I dropped my jacket to mark my spot, took a deep breath and walked back to the van hoping I'd find them there.  And sure enough, NO KEYS!  I knew with certainty that my keys were laying somewhere in that field of mud and last year’s stubble.

Out of sheer desperation, I  called a good friend who lived nearby hoping she might be home and able to come help me search.  She assured me that she was on her way.  And so began the impossible search and my out loud conversation with God.  “Lord, I know you can see my keys.  You’re looking at them right now, so please, please, PLEASE!  take my feet to them.”  There was no other way I was going to find them.  The soil was as black as my keychain and the field stubble was thick and tall, standing as high as my knees --- especially along the fence and in the wide ditch I’d crossed several times.  Needle in a haystack, anyone???

After about half an hour of searching, a truck pulled out of the nearby farmhouse  and stopped next to where I was pacing  the field. Great!  Now I  was in trouble for tromping through his field.  But to my great relief, the man and his daughter had  stopped to inquire whether I needed help.  I couldn’t believe it when after explaining my predicament (through tears), they got out and started searching through the ditch with me saying: “we’ll find them, don’t worry.”  Such kindness and optimism from complete strangers was overwhelming.  

Meanwhile, my girlfriend had shown up and joined the search.  Shortly after that, I took a step and my eyes fell upon the keys right beside my foot.  I snapped them up and started the loudest, craziest celebration dance right there in the ditch in front of my girlfriend and two complete strangers.  Such exuberant joy filled my whole being.  I hugged my girlfriend and twirled wildly in delight.  I hugged the strangers, laughing and screaming.   It was crazy and exciting and I didn’t care who saw me.

my girlfriend in the muddy field after all the drama!!

I have no idea how God whispered to my heart in that deliriously loud and joyful moment, but he did: “Now you know how I feel when, after leaving the ninety-nine, I find that one lost sheep.”  I got it, just a taste of how excited God gets.  All heaven rejoices; isn’t that what the Scripture says?  Imagine that!  A loud, rapturous, dancing celebration happens in heaven when one that was lost is found.  

words and images © copyright Melody Armstrong 2013

riding upstream

Living life against the current

answering His sacred call

pursuing things eternal

walking lightly on this earth

laying down my life, not fighting for it

forgiving because I am forgiven

choosing to see the best in others

 trusting when the way is hard and uncertain

pouring from my emptiness in order to be filled

letting my weakness be my strength

walking in Christ's footsteps-

even when they lead to a cross...

and though I lose my footing

falling hard and often

and find myself in the river

currents wild, rushing against me

cold soaked right through

I shout out what I know:

 God's faithfulness

-the grace gifts that 

flow harder and deeper still.

And right there

in that moment with my soul laid bare

I find courage and strength

in His tender, ever-present voice

in the compassionate grasp of His hands

where, alongside the scars,

my name is engraved. 

words and images copyright © melody armstrong 2013