Christmas Blanket

"I can't wait until I'm 13. When I have my bar mitzvah, I can finally get Seth to leave me alone. Ever since he went through his a couple of years ago, he won't leave me alone. First, he bosses me around. 'Caleb, get this. Caleb do that.' Abba is no help. He just nods at me to do whatever he says. 

Second, he thinks he is so much better than me. He gets to take care of the cows and learn about all Abba's tools. He and Seth even started talking about girls the other day. While all this is happening, I'm stuck doing Seth's bidding or working with Momma. Seth calls me 'the daughter she always wanted.' If I hear him say that one more time, I'm going to punch him." 

Seth sprinted into the village and straight to the house. "Woman, several large groups are headed toward us from the north. He wants you two to get all our beds ready for guests."

"How long before travelers might arrive?" Caleb asked. 

"By tonight, kid." 

"Seth, we will need that yearling steer butchered. Caleb, walk through each room and sleeping space. Straighten them up and make sure they are have everything needed. I will head to the root cellar. Meet me there, Caleb." 

"Yes, meet Momma at the root cellar daughter Caleb. I'll take care of the meat, woman." 

Caleb bundled fresh straw on his back. He filled all the downstairs palates with fresh straw, then carried all the blankets out back to be beaten clean. He wrapped and bundled more straw and climbed to the roof. Under the canopy that covered most of the roof, Caleb filled the rest of the pallets there and dropped the blankets into the back yard with the rest. Every two pallets sat with a small clay water jar in between and a wooden box for the possessions of a visitor. 

After all the pallets lay stuffed with fresh straw, Caleb hustled out back to the cellar. “Don’t let Seth bother you, son. Remember God hates the proud, but upholds the humble. Now, lets see what we have in here to feed some folks.” Caleb and his mother, Rebekah, ducked into a cave. As Rebekah lit the torch mounted in the wall, Caleb gingerly made his way toward the back. Cool dampness settled on him as the light flickered out ahead. There in the back waited shelves holding clay jars of various heights and shapes. Each was labeled with the name of its contents etched into the jar when the material stood soft. Dried figs, raisins, dates, wine of various ages, barley flour and wheat flour waited with a few blocks of cheese wrapped in cloth along with bags of onions still in the skins. Dried meat and jerky were stored in wooden barrels.

Rebekah and Caleb took hold of one of the barrels, lifted and carried it from the back of the cave to the front. Rest. Lift again, carry, rest. After hours of carrying mother and son were soaked with sweat and ached.

"So are you girls all tired?!" Seth whined. Abba laid a stained hand on his shoulder. "Well, WE have two, two steers ready for any guests who come. Now where is our supper?" Abba directed Seth outside to wash up, saving Rebekah from two tired boys trying to kill each other. 

"Mom, just once I wish you'd let me beat some sense into Seth." Caleb demanded. 

"It never does work that way, Caleb." Rebekah sighed. "We both know we did a good day's work. Now let's finish with a good meal." Soon Rebekah invited the three men to the table with just the smell of her stew. 

"Mother nobody cooks up a stew like you." Seth cheered. "Jacob never would have taken Esau's birthright, if he had to compete with your cooking." Everyone laughed. Talk turned to all the travelers. Abba, Samuel, had heard the Emperor was counting heads for a new tax. Seth disagreed. He thought  folks were coming to Jerusalem to see Herod's new building. As the two men "discussed" their ideas, Rebekah and Caleb cleared the table.

"Caleb, why don't you go for a swim. I can handle anything else that needs doing tonight." Mother offered. A swim! Caleb took off at a run. At the pond, he stripped off his cloak, and robe, setting them on top of the bushes. He wadded into the water, then stretched out and swam. The cool liquid was a gift from God. Soon three or four other boys joined him for splashing and wrestling and swim races. 

It was almost dark when he climbed out of the water to find his clothes. They were gone! "Oh Seth" Caleb growled. "When I get a hold of you . . ." He ran home in his soaked tunic that clung to his thighs. A couple neighbor ladies gasped at the indecency as he sprinted by. Caleb charged into the house roaring for Seth. 

Seth stuck his head down the ladder to the roof. "What's the matter? Did little Caleb lose his robe?" With a flick Caleb's robe and cloak fluttered down toward the floor. "Oh, look what I found lying in the bushes." Caleb dashed to catch them. Slam! The lid to the roof set shut. 

“I’ll get you, Seth!” There was no way Caleb was going up on the roof tonight. Caleb dried off, then stomped to one of the downstairs pallets for the night. He flopped down mumbling to himself. The mumbling turned to tears. “Why is Seth so mean?” 

The next day felt like a festival. All morning groups, caravans, of people rushed through town toward Jerusalem. Rebekah and Caleb set up a stand by the road with food to sell to those travelers running low.  Camels loaded with saddlebags and boxes paid them no mind. Their minders dressed in silks and gazing straight toward the future. Other groups were on foot. 

As the day edged toward high noon, kids were sent out of the procession to look over Caleb’s wares. Young men and women about Seth’s age kindly bought dried fruit and meat, politely thanking him as they carried off their treasures. “Why can’t Seth treat me like this?”

“Caleb, go to the well and bring back a water jar full. We may be able to sell some drinks.” Within 20 minutes Caleb wobbled back, balancing 30 gallons of water on his head. By dark, mother and son had just about sold out of all the food and water they had set out for the day. In fact over the next few days the parade of people continued. Camels loaded with corpulent families in bright silks drifted by. Families on foot carried their tents on their backs and their food on their donkeys. Smartly dressed men on horses led families on mules with their own tents and supplies. They all disappeared into the houses and inns of Jerusalem.

“Momma.”

“Yes Caleb?”

“The cellar is starting to look kinda empty. Shouldn’t we save some of our supplies in case travelers actually stay with us?” Rebekah smiled. 

“Come with me.” Rebekah took Caleb around the root cellar. In the ridge behind stood another weathered wooden door. Rebekah pulled it open. Another cave, almost twice the size of first waited with food. “Caleb, the front cellar is filled with the older supplies. We sell that first. This cave holds more recent food. We will have plenty for everyone.” 

That evening the first of the caravans came out of Jerusalem sniffing out a place to stay. The next day the tide of caravans into the city met the backwash coming out. The human whirlpool swirled around Rebekah and Caleb. 

The downstairs pallets filled up first. An etched and wrinkled grandfather and his clan liked the looks of the back corner of the great room. Seth grudgingly led their pack animal away to the barn to feed and water them, while Caleb helped carry in their sacks of traveling gear. “I’m so glad we don’t have to set up the tent tonight.” One of the younger girls sighed. “It will be so good to sleep on a real pallet.” She smiled at Caleb.

Later in the day a multifamily group found the house. They filled out the rest of the downstairs. Their talk sounded funny like they came from down near Egypt. 

“Caleb, get Seth and pull out the great table for the evening meal.” Rebekah asked. Caleb took off at a run to find his brother. He ran up on Abba and Seth outside town scattering seed for spring wheat. 

“Seth, Mom needs us to get out the great table for tonight. The house is full!” Seth glanced over his shoulder with disgust, then went back to scattering from his burlap bag. “Abba, make Seth help me.” Caleb pleaded.

“This will be his field someday, Caleb. He needs to learn how to make it work for him. I will help you with the table this time.” Seth grinned as he worked away. Samuel and Caleb left him and walked back toward the barn. The barn was a large shed built up against a cave in another hillside halfway between the fields and the house. “So tell me about our guests.” Samuel asked his son.

“Well, first we have a family from north of here I would guess. There are six of them, grandparents, son and wife and two granddaughters. They seem nice and are glad they don’t have to sleep in a tent tonight.”

“Wait until they taste some of your mom’s cooking. They will be very glad then!” Abba replied.

Caleb continued to describe the guests as the two entered the barn. Off to the left inside the barn three items stood on edge wrapped in burlap. Samuel took up two of the sacks, while Caleb hefted the last. Still chatting the pair walked toward the house. The shadows had taken over the lawn and a couple early stars were bravely shooing the sun down. Seth fell into step behind them. Within minutes the three young men had added the three sections to the normal low table. The new table stretched across the middle of the great room from front to back. 

“Help me put out the first course.” Rebekah asked them. Seth gave Caleb a shove in the back. 

“Us men need to clean up.” Seth declared as he left the room. The girl who had smiled at Caleb earlier hurried up to his side. “Here, let me help.” She offered as she took a steaming wooden bowl of food from him. “My name is Miriam.” She kept her eyes low as she walked toward the table.

The aroma invited everyone to eat. Most pulled their pallets to the table, so they would have a cushion to lie on during the meal. The menu was simple. Fresh bread, stew, dried fruit and cold water. Samuel returned thanks and everyone began to eat and talk. The city streets were so full you could hardly walk. People from all over Palestine had been brought back to the area for Caesar’s census. Folks had been stopped at several points and asked to produce some proof of identity.

After the meal, mother brought out wine for the men, while father lit a bonfire for folks to sit around in the backyard. 

“Caleb and Seth, make sure each pallet has a blanket for the night. We don’t want people to fell that they have to sleep in their cloaks.” Seth pretended he didn’t hear and kept walking toward the fire. Rebekah sighed and started after him. 

“Mom, don’t bother.” Caleb called. “I can get them.”

“I’ll help too, if you need me.” Miriam offered. The pair climbed to the roof and passed homemade blankets down the ladder and around the room to each of the pallets. Rebekah had made most of them and they lapped over the pallets perfectly. The last two weren’t as straight. 

“These two are different.” Miriam remarked. 

“Well, I made those. I’m not as good as mom is yet.” Caleb explained. 

“I know. I made my first blanket last fall. It has a hole in the middle.” Miriam giggled. Caleb laughed along. It felt good after all the hard work of the last few weeks. The two strolled to the fire talking and laughing. As the fire died down and the wine ran low, folks wandered back toward the house and bed. At last just Seth, Samuel, Caleb and Miriam huddled around the coals.

“When we came back this way today, we were stopped by a couple soldiers right at the other end of town.” Miriam reported. “They were just getting set up to check everyone tomorrow. The bigger one has a nasty scar over one eye, his right I think.” A braying donkey interrupted her. 

“Here comes some more people.” Caleb observed. Little oil lamps flickered against the dark revealing two donkeys, one loaded with supplies and the other carrying a woman. Around the animals stumbled a sick older lady, her frail husband and a couple little grandkids barely old enough to walk. A strong young man steadied the donkey with his wife and kept an arm under the old lady.

“Caleb, get your mother.” Abba stated. Caleb and Miriam hurried off toward the house. “Seth, lets you and I help them with their animals.” With a sigh Seth fell in step with his Dad. They helped the young lady off the donkey while the young man half carried the old lady into the house. Caleb met them and led the old couple to the last two pallets, which they had butted together in the middle of the room where the supper table had stood. The woman on the donkey steered the grandkids into the house, while Seth and Abba steered the donkeys toward the barn for the night. The grandkids huddled next to their grandparents. Miriam and Rebekah offered them some food, but they were already asleep. Rebekah took the two large blankets off the family pallets upstairs and covered the foursome. Within minutes they stopped shivering and settled into deep sleep.

“Oh what are we going to do with you.” Rebekah whispered as she noticed the young woman’s condition. “We can’t have you sleeping out in the air.” Just then Seth came in.

“We have the animals settled, woman. I’m going to bed.”

“You will need to sleep in your cloak tonight, Seth.” 

“Great.” Seth mumbled as he started up the ladder. 

“Just a minute, Seth.” Rebekah stated in thought. “Let’s make a place in the barn for this young lady. It will be out of the dampness at least.”

“That’s a good idea, woman.” He answered his foot still on the ladder. “Caleb, that sounds like your kind of work.” He continued to climb.

“Why you!” Caleb snarled. The young woman groaned. 

“Caleb, please go with the young man and set something up. Miriam and I will help Mary out in a few minutes.” Caleb left for the barn with the young man following. 

“Joe, my name is Joe.”

“My name is Caleb. We are going to set you up in the barn and get  you off the ground for the night.”

“Thanks.” The three men stacked straw into two decent pallets for the couple. Caleb brought out the leftovers from the evening meal. Not long after the young woman joined her husband in the barn. 

“Now, Mary, if you need help tonight send your husband in and get us up. I will have Caleb sleep right by the door over there, so you can find him.”

“We will be fine, Ma’am. We appreciate what you have done.” With that everyone went off to bed.

Caleb was awakened in the pitch black and Joe shook him. “Caleb, its time, go get your mother.”

“What?” He mumbled trying to wake up.

“The baby is coming.”

“Oh, yeah. I’ll get her.” Caleb banged through the darkened room until he found the ladder. He burst onto the roof. “Mom, mom come quick, the baby!” Rebekah was already pulling her robe on.  She lit a small oil lamp and the two hustled out to the couple in the barn. Caleb kept Joseph company outside. A few minutes later, Abba walked up to the two. “First time father?” He asked Joseph.

“Yes. I’m not sure I can handle all this.” He confided while the sounds of delivery broke out of the stable.

“No one is.” Samuel answered. “Take each day as it comes and let the Lord look after tomorrow. Best advice my father ever gave me. It took me a few years to figure out what he meant. So, you got a name picked out?”

“Jesus. We’ll name him Jesus.” While the older men talked, Caleb crept back to the barn. His curiosity was getting the best of him. Besides things had quieted down in there. As he peeked between the boards, he watched his mom smack the baby on the behind. As he cried in response, the baby’s eyes lit with the flame of life.

“Sounds like little Jesus has quite a voice.” Samuel laughed as Joe rushed into the stable to meet his son.

“Why did Mom spank the baby, Abba?”

“That cry is his first breath, son. A baby needs air, food and warmth we he first comes into our world, air, food and warmth.”

“Then Jesus will need a blanket.”

“Oh I’m sure Joe has all that taken care of.” answered Abba. Caleb wasn’t so sure. He walked back to the house trying to take in all that he had seen and heard. Miriam met him at the door.

“Did I hear a baby cry?” She asked.

“Yes, a little boy has been born in the barn. His name is Jesus.” Caleb replied as he wandered past. Caleb made his way to his pallet. Beside it sat his box. He opened it. Inside lay the first blanket he ever made. He and his mom worked on it together. They were the only two who had seen it. He had woven a little lamb’s face on the center of it. The cloth was too small, so he was saving it for his first child. He grabbed it out before he could change his mind and surged down the ladder.

On a sprint he crossed the yard to the barn and burst inside. Little Jesus was all wrapped in strips of cloth and he was fussing against them. Caleb stepped up to the manger bed and wrapped his blanket gently under Jesus’ chin. The baby settled and closed his eyes. His mother picked him up in the blanket and snuggled him close.

“Well that fits him perfect, thank you. We will give it back tomorrow.”

“No, you keep it. It’s my gift.”

Santa's Present

I have pretended to be Santa Claus for almost 15 years. The kids love me, because I’m short like them and I have learned how to make my eyes twinkle as they walk up to me. As you might imagine, kids ask for all sorts of stuff, from the latest and greatest toys to pets to a new husband for mommy. I wear the black boots, red pants and red coat with the white fur fringe. I was born with red hair and the fair skin that comes with it. A thumb twist of red makeup on each cheek finishes the costume. I skip the hat.

Today, I was playing the part at a mall in upstate New York, maybe 30 miles from home. I have gained enough reputation that I can work anywhere from Buffalo to Syracuse to Jamestown or even Binghamton. Today  was a 6 hour gig from 2pm - 9pm with two 15 minute “Hot Cocoa” breaks and a 1 hour “Feeding his reindeer” break. 

The day had been going well. I endured only about half a dozen criers and was seating anywhere from 30 to 60 kids an hour. My female elves knew what they were doing and kept the flow of parents moving with smiles and easy encouragement. I always brought my own photographer and best friend, Pete. He could frame up a shot faster than anyone and seemed to be able to snap off smile after smile with few frowns. He was also a master photoshopper, who could add smiles where needed in a few seconds.

I ambled back to the set after my second “Hot Cocoa Break” to find just one family waiting. The father stood a bit taller than me, no surprise, and was squared away. Mom looked awful young. She wore a knee length dress with a couple of stains well faded from lots of cleaning. Their son stood confident with shiny black hair, brown black eyes, a green short sleeve shirt, brown corduroy pants and scuffed white sneakers. 

The elves and Pete had not made it back, yet. I sat and launched into my shtick with a booming “HO, HO, Ho and who have we here?” The kid was maybe three years old, yet he marched right up to sit on my lap. “What’s your name, young man?” I asked cheerfully.

“I know your real name, Mister.” Without letting concern reach my eyes, I studied the boy. Nope, don’t recognize him. 

“Well, aren’t you smart.” I threw back.

“I also know what you need.” He stared straight at me.

I tossed out a Santa chuckle. “Now just a minute young man, I’m hear to listen to you.” I glanced over at the parents. They watched their son with pride. The hair on the back of my neck stood up. Where was Pete?

“You need forgiveness for Sarah Jane.” This interview just moved beyond creepy.

“OK, kid, you’re done.” I shooed him off my lap. “Mom, Dad come get your kid.” I barked. As they came to retrieve him, I tried to place them. Nothing. Never seen them in my life that I can remember.

Mom catches my eye. “Did Jay upset you?” She asks. What he said went way beyond ‘upset,’ but I wasn’t going to give them the satisfaction. 

“No, ma’am. He just doesn’t seem to want anything of Santa today.” They walked off and left me thinking of Sarah Jane. I hadn’t thought about her in years. Couldn’t think about her actually. Forgiveness. How could this kid know? 

I had been Santa so long that I winged through the last couple of hours on autopilot while memory dragged me back to 20 years before. Lucy and I met at drama school. She carried that magic that the movie industry demands. When Lucy walked into a class the talking ran out. When she read a part, you couldn’t help but believe. Out of all the men going for her, she liked me.

We spent hours talking over coffee, running lines together, rewriting each other’s scripts and sharing our lives. About a month into our friendship and it happened. We were running lines for a romantic sketch. At the end of an intense scene we were to kiss. It wasn’t pretend from either of us. As the script pages fell on the floor, we fell into each other’s embrace and didn’t stop until deep into the night. 

The joy of being with Lucy shot us both to the head of the class. We were getting the best parts and killing. By spring, Broadway producers and directors were sitting in the seats for some of my best work. With Lucy, I might head to Hollywood. Then Lucy was getting sick every morning. Her face puffed around the eyes. She was pregnant. Wow, did her eyes flair with joy. Me, I wasn’t near so excited. What would this mean for our acting days?

At first, not much. As the baby grew, Lucy shared more and more energy with the baby. She didn’t have it for the lines. My own worry stretched its fingers throughout my performances. Finally, one of the instructors took me aside. ‘Listen, you need to do something. You two are blowing a great future for a fetus. Lucy is sick half the time. She is tired and you are way out of sync. You need to go to a clinic or something. I have a couple Hollywood directors flying in next week. Get this solved.’

I listened. His speech sounded like he pulled from my thoughts. I sat Lucy down that afternoon. “Lucy, Dr. Lowellyn has a couple of friends coming from Hollywood next week. One of them worked on Bridges of Madison County.”

“Wow, that’s great. Do we want to know the baby’s gender ahead of time, do you think?”

“Lucy, about the baby. We haven’t been ourselves, our best, since the baby came along.  I’m not the only one who thinks so, honey. Dr. Lowellyn is worried about our future.”

Lucy hung her head. “I’ve been thinking about our careers too. Maybe I will need to take a break for a few years. We can support you.”

“Dear, the baby is in our way. We are young with lots of time for babies. We need to focus on making a life for ourselves first.”

“What are you saying?”

“We need to go to the clinic off campus and get it taken care of.”

“You mean I need to abort our baby.”

“I mean you need to support our future.” We talked long into that night and I wore her down. “I will go with you tomorrow, Lucy. We will see this through together.”

It was a horrible mistake. I thought an abortion was like getting a tooth surgically removed or a tummy tucked. She would go to sleep, have careful surgery and wake up feeling fine. As I helped Lucy out of the office she mumbled, “They called her Sarah Jane. Her name was Sarah Jane.” All the female babies were Sarah Jane, named for their founder or main donor or something like that. 

Lucy was wrecked. Her body didn’t unclench for the better part of two days. She fell from divided energy to none. Our relationship was done. She left me and the school two weeks later. I’m a master Santa impersonator, so you can see where my career ended up. 

I finished my performance, thanked the mall people and the elves, then helped Pete take things down. I was still a good enough actor to fool him. Within five minutes he was pacing off to his car with his arms loaded with equipment without a thought for me. Frankly I was grateful to be alone.

“Jimmy? James Carrigan! Over here!” And there she was. Would this night never end? There was Lucy. She stood with a gentleman who could only be her husband. They wore rings. On her left stood a teenage young man who looked like Dad and on her right stood a young lady who looked like the Lucy I remembered. Once she caught my eye, Lucy started into a sprint. With a girly leap she landed in my startled arms hugging me. “I have been thinking about you most of the day, Jimmy.”

Before she could launch into anything, I cut her off. “Lucy before you start, I HAVE to tell you what happened today.” With as much detail as I could pull to mind, I told her about the family, the boy and his mention of Sarah Jane. Lucy’s family had gathered around and was listening intently.

“Jimmy, let’s go sit in the food court where we can talk.” I excused myself to the bathroom, changed into “civilian clothes” and joined Lucy and family in the food court. “Jimmy, I know you tried to find me 20 years ago. I just couldn’t let you. About three weeks after I left, I was out for a walk and not sure I would come back. My insides were still killing me. My heart was broken and my future was gone. As I was walking, a family met me from the opposite direction. The Dad stood a bit taller than you. The Mom looked our age then, maybe younger. The boy wore a green shirt and a precocious look. The Dad, Joseph, asked if they could join me. I shook my head ‘No,’ but they ignored me and crossed the road. Joseph was a carpenter. Mary his young wife and the boy was their only child. None of this meant a thing to me at the time.

As we walked, I relaxed for the first time since the abortion. After several minutes, the boy caught my eye. “Miss Lucy, You need forgiveness.” I stopped breathing. Next I knew Joseph was holding me up.  Mary gave me a drink from her trendy skin cantine and I revived. Just a few more minutes and we entered a small town. The lights were on at a small church. The four of us climbed the two front steps and found a seat in the back pew.

For some reason the pastor was preaching on the Christmas story in May. He told of Joseph the carpenter and Mary his young teen bride. He told of Mary returning home from her cousin Elizabeth’s while 7 months pregnant. Joe was going to divorce her, until God intervened. ‘Why didn’t he intervene for me?’ I wondered. The pastor told of their marriage and trip together to Bethlehem and baby Jesus being born. Such feelings of hate boiled, Jim. I hated Mary for getting to have her baby. I hated you for talking me out of it and I mostly hated me for ever walking into that clinic. I missed most of the rest of the pastor’s message. I guess he told stories from Jesus’ adult life.

I tuned back in when the pastor took us beside mother Mary at the foot of the cross. Mary had watched her son die a torturous death, even as little Sarah Jane must have went through. I still see her little face contorted in pain, Jim. They didn’t get her away before I saw her face. Mary watched Jesus’ extended death. I broke down. All the guilt, pain, fear and sadness just poured forth in great sobs. A little hand wrapped around my pinky finger for a second, as the pastor wrapped up.

‘Mother Mary allowed her son to die for your guilt and mine.’ He proclaimed. ‘No matter what causes your guilt, God is ready to forgive. For though Mary’s son went into the grave a broken body. He arose three days later as the son of God.’ The little boy’s grip tightened. I glanced down and no one was there! I scanned the whole church. The family was gone. ‘I invite you now to come and find peace with God through Jesus.’ I lay on the altar in tears for the better part of an hour. The pastor and his wife counseled and prayed with me and that little hand seemed to cling to my pinky the whole time.

Then God brought other miracles in my life. I never thought I would be able to trust a guy again, until Mark met me. We married with no hope of having children. My Ob/gyn was sure I could never conceive because of the abortion damage.”

“Well there is no way you can deny either of these children,” I answered, “especially you, young lady. You are your mother all over again. So you set that family on me.” I blamed Lucy.

“Not exactly. God has brought you to mind for the last few days and I have been praying that you would find God from the same sort of experience that I had. I had no idea you were even around here, until we turned the corner and saw you in costume.”

Feelings I had buried for over 15 years surged to the surface. I sunk into the table forehead on forearms shaking in tears. In great mercy, Lucy wrapped her arms around my shoulders, while the rest of the family gathered and prayed for me. In the middle of all the talking, prayer and confessing I felt a little boy’s hand wrap around my thumb with love.

My Parents amaze through Alzheimer's

To finish our "staycation" we spent the day with Dad. After lunch and visiting, we drove to the Bradford County Manor to see if Mom could come out and play. Mom didn't want to. In fact, when the wheel chair was brought up behind her, she bolted away.

Dad followed and gently talked her back. With much coaching from her favorite nurse, Mom sat and rode out to the car, her slippered feet dragging all the way. With some question and answer, Mom got in the car and we drove to the highest point in the county, Mt Pisgah. She wouldn't get out. We drove back to the Manor, she wouldn't get out without some arguing. She rode down to the room, slippers off the ground this time. "Ohhh." She cooed when she saw her room. Familiar territory. She climbed in bed. Dad and I stood by and chatted briefly with her.

"I'm going to kiss you goodbye." Dad announced. He bent toward her.

"Oh I love you so much." Mom whispered just before Dad kissed her.

And God allowed me to be there.

Juxtaposition and Question

I get to be the Bible Adventure guy for our community VBS this year. Yay! Day one we learn about Elijah being fed by ravens and deduce that God provides. Day two we learn about Elijah hiding under the broom tree and learn that God comforts. Day three we learn about Namaan the Syrian and that God heals. Day 4 we learn about Peter's forgiveness by Jesus and that God forgives. Day 5 we learn about Jesus promise of an eternal home and that God loves us forever. These are all great things God does.

As I'm studying for VBS, I also check Twitter and read news. Who says only females can multitask! On twitter I link to a blog on marriage post Supreme court.(http://blogs.ancientfaith.com/joeljmiller/where-marriage-is-headed-next/) Joel's premise is that marriage started to fail back in the 50's as society began to view all its institutions through the lens of individual autonomy. Individual autonomy became our nation's highest value at that point and divorces rose. In fact, the author feels that we presently live in a serial polygamous society due to the rise of divorce and remarriage.

If Mr. Miller is right, and he just might be, how is our VBS curriculum interacting with such a society? Generally in this sort of curriculum God is the responder to what the child feels they need. I need something, well, God is the provider. I need comfort, well God is the comforter. I need healing, well, God can do that for me. I need forgiveness to get rid of my guilt, so God has already squared that away for me. Almost feels like God is the servant to my individual autonomy. I have more study to do.

Reviewing My Understanding of the World Post SCOTUS

In the climate that has formed around the joining of man with man or woman with woman in marriage, it seems important to me that I review for my friends and followers my world view. In this statement, I will not stop to engage in imaginary debate. I know that many points may be debated. I don't claim that everyone should hold my worldview or even care that what I am about to write is the lense through which I interpret life. I only offer these words, so you can understand how I view the issue of the right of homosexuals to marry. 

First, I need to state the ideas I can't prove. I accept that the ancient book we call the Bible is true. Second, I accept that a personal creative being outside nature exists. Genesis 1:1 is most easily translated "In the beginning God created . . ." God existed before any other thing we can know or experience. By His desire and power he created everything. I have opinions on how, but that will unnecessarily side track us. God who made everything chose to invest extra meaning in His final creature, humans. In Genesis 1:26-28, Gods plans out loud to make humans male and female and in His Image. 

I observe that this man and woman are placed in a different situation. A moral choice was placed before them. In the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, God placed a moral test in the center of the garden. I find two parts in this moral choice. Part one: God as the Creator has the right to declare anything in or out of bounds. It is immoral to cross God's boundary, because He said so. It is moral to live inside God's boundary, because he said so.

Part two: it is dangerous to cross God's moral boundaries. God told the male, "If you eat from this tree, you will die." The first couple had little way to comprehend what death meant. The only way I can see that they might come close is through opposites. "We enjoy life. Life is beauty, comfort, and all we could want physically. Perhaps death is the opposite of all this goodness, joy and beauty we see." But what that world could look like was neigh on impossible to imagine. 

In Matthew 19, Jesus states that marriage was made by God for one man and one woman for life. Romans 1 talks about homosexual behavior as a result of rejecting God and walking away from him by humans. I don't know why God has made this ruling. I would understand this like the tree in the garden. Though I can't explain God's motives, I choose to trust them. Crossing God's moral fences is dangerous. This ruling encourages dangerous behavior. 

If any would ask me my opinion of homosexual marriage or union, I would reply, "I see it as morally dangerous." I can't do any different from my worldview that God is Creator and righteous or perfectly moral. 

I can't answer the question of loving feelings toward another person. For me feelings are tricky. They rise and ebb and trip me up as often as not. In matters of the heart, I can't trust my feelings near as much as I can trust God. 

That's the worldview in which I live. 

My Words Have Fled

What does it mean to be a disciple? Is being a disciple as good as the Bible states? Disciple is an education term for student. This student volunteers to learn from the Master, because of the greatness of the Master's teaching and results. An artist may commit themselves to certain "school" of art and try to paint, sculpt or draw in the form of the original Master. This student's goal is not to reproduce the work of the Master, but to make it their own.

The man described from the four accounts of Jesus' life, compels one to follow or forget. Jesus obviously lived in power. Folks flocked to him for healing, freedom, sight and inspiration. He delivered them all in ways beyond imagining. The aching woman at the well described in John 4 held no plan to be made acceptable to her village or God again. Jesus brought her both. The woman caught in the act of adultery was not destroyed but spared and encouraged to live healthy and whole. The rich young ruler was challenged to invest his wealth in others to be free to follow Jesus as a disciple. Net pullers could become fishers of people.

Jesus lived in poverty. He possessed no house, but slept on the ground or with friends. He ate from the kindness of others. He spoke to the wealthy and the wanton from the position of a poor traveling preacher. No economic status is necessary to follow this teacher. He doesn't promise instant wealth and live in greatness of stuff. He promises treasure in heaven, a life after life cash in.

Jesus stepped through the dance of life with grace. A woman plagued by bleeding, weak and forlorn, spun with Jesus in the crowd and received public healing. A teacher desperate for more on the inside handed questions to Jesus and he returned the secret to the spirit filled life. Jesus did a turn with Pilate, a jaded Roman official, and left him convinced that Jesus might know the way to truth.

Frankly, his beat doesn't naturally sound in me. Poverty feels like an enemy, not a companion and power is a bill I pay every month. So how do I choose to follow his teaching and life so many centuries removed from His world?

Jesus made this situation part of His final prayer. In John 17:20-23 John, his disciple, records that we are to be unified with each other and Him in a way that is so profound, others cannot deny it. This unity with Jesus and each other will continue through the centuries as a witness that Jesus is unified with God and can make others the same.

My words have fled at that idea.

What Makes a Man?

The cover of Vanity Fair holds only the picture of Caitlyn Jenner, the 1976 decathlete Gold medalist transformed. So what makes a man a man? Thanks to hormones and surgeries and makeup and Photoshop Caitlyn looks amazing for a 65 year old woman. So what makes a man a man?

Caitlyn was born Bruce. Bruce trained, competed and won the gold medal in a very grueling sport. Bruce married and conceived children. So what makes a man a man?

Is maleness a matter of body parts and hormones? Is it a matter of who makes the money and fixes the broken machines? Is it a matter of clothes and hair length and who wears the lipstick?

Body parts and hormones have been downgraded. With surgery and hormone therapy they can be changed. Before they're changed, however, what do they give to the person who has them? Males enjoy between 6 and 7 times more testosterone than females. Males produce up to 20 times more testosterone than females. This primarily male steroid causes greater muscle mass, bone density and male hairiness. Testosterone also causes the male body parts to mature. Testosterone also effects the brain. Male brains are 15% larger than female brain matter.

Several studies show that testosterone makes a person more aggressive and take greater risks. Caitlyn's testosterone got her over the high jump bar. Testosterone production decreases when males enter a relationship, when they become fathers, and over time. Most males are comfortable with the effects of testosterone. Its part of who they are and effects their outlook on life. Before birth this hormone was shaping them.

But what if you don't like what this hormone does to you? What about the negative aspects of testosterone? What about the aggressiveness that lands males in jail? What about the competitiveness that smashes a man's life on the rocks once the body can't reach the goals? What if you don't want the lead in a male/female relationship? What if you want to nurture the kids, instead of be the mean dad?

If we are honest, men have dealt with those sorts of feelings since way before hormone therapy. We've all had to dial back our aggressiveness. We have all had to deal with our bodies not operating where they did in their 20s. We have wished from time to time that we didn't have to take the lead with our wives and children. We've all enjoyed our kids falling asleep on our laps. Part of living as a man is dealing with the over maleness.

It feels like the one we are celebrating as a hero took the easy way out. Bruce had the money to change himself after he gained the fame his maleness enabled. In society at this point in time, he can spend his millions to change his hormones and be accepted. Caitlyn will likely make millions writing a book and appearing around the country for her heroism, while the rest of us males love our wives, raise our children to love who they are and work in our communities to make them better places.

If Christ is the Answer, what is the question?

Original Lila Mattison (cropped by me)

In Large orange letters the sentence "Christ is the Answer" has been proclaimed to travelers on New York's route 17 for decades. Best I can determine a man named George Dobbs Kirk Jr. put up these words into the side of a hill in 1959, a year before his oldest son died a troubling death of unknown circumstances. The Calvary Baptist Church of Gibson, NY now maintains the sentence.

So, what is the question? It could be this one, "Where did we come from?" Christ as part of the Godhead was there when the world was created. I'm not a Deist. I don't believe God set the world in motion and sat back to see how it would all come out. King David marvels that God knew him as he was being knit together in his mother's womb. If the question is "Where did we come from?" Christ is the answer according to Christian teaching.

We don't ask that question. Most of us start with the fact that we exist. Blame our parents for the features we don't like and move on with life. So, does Christ answer a question we do ask? Well, what sorts of questions do we ask? Am I raising my kids right? How will I make it through this month's bills? Can I deal with my mother going into a nursing home? Will my car keep running long enough to save for another one? What do we have to make supper?

Christ's teachings can give direction for some of those questions. "Am I raising my kids right?" Jesus said, "Do to others as you would want them to do to you?" Am I communicating that lifestyle to my kids? Not only do they hear me harping, um proclaiming, uh saying the words, but do they see me living them?

How will I make it through this month's bills? Christ taught us to pray, "Please give us this day our daily bread." If you use "bread" in the 1960's sense of money, then Christ may have an answer to the question of this month's bills.

As a matter of fact, I can find answers to many questions in Jesus' teaching. The topics he expounded on are timeless. His answers are true today, as well as over 2000 years ago. Some clever person will likely point out that the sentence on the hill doesn't say, "Christ's teachings are the Answer." The words stand, "Christ is the Answer." What does that mean?

In Philippians 1:21 Paul sums up his life, "For me to live is Christ and to die is gain." Now we are getting at it. Paul is writing this letter to the first church of Europe in the very important Roman Colony of Philippi. This colony city was established by Augustus Caesar after his victory that unified the empire under he and his allies. Paul and Silas had preached the good news there and been thrown in jail for casting a demon out of a slave girl. The demon had been making money for the slave girl's owners. That night Paul and Silas were singing at midnight when an earthquake leveled the jail. No one was hurt or escaped. Paul had the chance to tell about Christ to the jailer. He committed himself to Christ and was baptized, along with his whole family.

Paul is writing to them from Rome. He has been a prisoner there for a long, undetermined period. As a result, he has been able to share the truth of Christ with his captors and many have come to trust the Christ for forgiveness and new life. It is from this experience that Paul wrote 'For me to live is Christ.'

No matter where Paul was he sought a way to make Christ known, jail, prison, marketplace, Europe, Asia, Palestine, wherever. He was so caught up in Christ that Christ summed up his life. Dying would only take him through the tomb to Christ, so that was gain. I would submit that those who live at that level of commitment find Christ is the answer to their lives. Going to jail for Jesus, "Good let's see how I can live for Christ there." Some said Paul was crazy, that his great learning had driven him insane. Many believe what Paul taught and lived regarding Christ, hence the sentence on the hill so many centuries later.

Maybe that sign is so hard to understand, because we have never met a Paul or his Christ.

Weddings

I performed my first wedding at my current church. Heat wilted and glistened and danced with joy on the faces of the bride and groom. Their child was part of the wedding, as a baby bump filling out Mom's dress. In a booming voice edged with emotion, Dad gave away his daughter with the words, "Her Mother and I." We sang "Jesus Loves Me" as the bride and groom poured sand together into their unity jar, creating swirls of white and pink representing two lives becoming one.

Under the shade of our church yard trees the wedding party greeted a cooling breeze and smiled for the camera. The whole experience felt like a breath of fresh air in a society supposedly walking away from conventional marriage.

The next weekend, I set up sound outdoors for my nephew's wedding. He and his bride married on the edge of a field I used to carefully 4 wheel through, so I wouldn't knock down too much hay. The ridge they married on is the big toe of Towner Hill, one of the highest old mountains surrounding my minuscule hometown of Rome, PA. We waited as a passing thundershower cleaned the assembled chairs and crafted bower one more time. The bride and groom turned their backs on Rome Valley and presented their vows to Almighty God and gathered family. As Pastor Theo intoned God's hatred of divorce, a passing thunderbolt underlined the sentiment.

Normally I spout all sorts of opinions about any number of topics built around marriage in the 21st century. Marriage and purity has grown almost as complicated as in Roman times. Purity is wonderful and so is redemption and so is watching young lovers meet before God and pledge their lives to each other.

Lessons and ideas I learned from Mom

How to enjoy humor. My mom never met a joke she didn't find a little bit funny. When deeply tickled, she laughed with abandon. 

How to carry out jobs well. Mom began her carreer at IBM Federal Systems division attaching many small components to circuit boards for satellites. She finished her work at a Sears catalog store, where she processed orders, kept stock, dealt with warranties and returns and contacted customers to take delivery. Though each job required diverse skills, she executed both excellently. 

The value of performing music every day. My piano lessons only lasted six months. Mom played and sang every day she could. She also encouraged the family to join her around the piano and taught us to harmonize. 

How to live humbly.  My mother was very skilled at a lot of tasks. From horticulture to customer relations she made situations beautiful. If you complimented Mom, she accepted the words reluctantly. In general, she enjoyed what she did and took pleasure in doing it well. 

How to get seriously angry and not cuss like a sailor. Man could I push her buttons. Wow was it fun to flush her red with anger. She was not a cusser. She held some serious volume for a passionate response. Her words might take on some color, but nothing like today's society where some use the f-bomb for a comma. 

How to worry. My mom was a champ at worrying. One of the few benefits of Alzheimer's is she no longer frets like she used to. 

A Face of Alzheimer's

Nothing like a new program to put you in touch with pictures. The "Faces" function on Photos helps draw together one person's image over time. I pulled together a 10 year progression of my Mom's face as Alzheimer's has chiseled away at her brain.

June 2005

From what we can tell, she was fine in 2005. She sits next to me in Mom and Dad's camper. Looks like we just came from church. Her eyes are clear and the brows flair slightly with her native intelligence.

June 2007

In 2007 I begin to see the uncertainty on her face. She is located toward the right next to the silver haired lady in the power blue jacket. This family gathering was for a funeral. Large gatherings have grown difficult. She needs to leave as soon as she can.

June 2009

In 2009, she is wearing the silly little kids look. Her voice raised and her cadence came sing song like a 3 year old. She started dropping her food on purpose and other silly acts. I remember we figured she had entered he second childhood around that time.

April 2010

In 2010, I see fear and sadness. This was the last time I remember speaking with my mom as Mom. We both enjoyed about 10 minutes on Mother's Day. Her sing song voice left and her eyes cleared. In the picture it seems she knows she is not right.

September 2011

In 2011 she is in her making noises instead of talking phase. The worry is gone. Every 5 minutes is a new adventure. She can still play the piano and sing.

June 2012

In 2012 the disease has aged the stuffing out of her. Her physical age is 74, but she is 10 years frailer. The older folks in the picture are all within a year of her age, but look younger.

October 2013

In 2013 she has reached her final move, back to the town I grew up in. She is very thin and her hair is always out of place. My mom almost always had her hair put together.

November 2014

In 2014, well you can see for yourself. Her color thinness and bearing shout ancient. The Alzheimer's life vacuum has reached full strength. 

I didn't specifically notice the progression living through it. We only came back to the area in July of 2011. See ing all the pictures together was an eye opener for me. Tomorrow Dad and my brother and I begin to study nursing homes where Mom's body can finish dying with loving care.