News Brief - December 2012

Eleven days before Christmas

a 20-year old shoots his mother four times in the face

then storms an elementary school and guns down dozens more.

A reporter remarks on the darkness behind him –

no one in Newtown feels like celebrating Christmas

so they’ve turned off the lights.

There’s to be a royal baby,

and a nurse who leaks news about the mother,

humiliated, hangs herself.

Darkness covers the earth,

and gross darkness the people.

The Light shines in the darkness.

But there is no room

for the royal Babe

Whose hanging

brings hope for a New Town.

the christmas letter

December 2012

Loved ones,

B.J. signed a contract to teach at the new Protestant Reformed Christian High School in Loveland, Colorado, last January.  The months immediately following our decision blur.  In late spring Leah came home with a worksheet.  She and Mrs. Van Den Top had read Jan’s New Home at school.  Jan doesn’t want to move: her house, her school, her friends will change.  The final question on the worksheet reads, “What did Jan learn about her new home?”  Leah’s answer?  The important things stayed the same.

We left our little white schoolhouse the day after Memorial Day.  Three generous men and two of their sons drove from Loveland to transport our belongings.  After walking through our empty home one final time, B.J. and I held each other in the doorway and cried.

We now own a comfortable red brick ranch.  Leah is no longer the only student in her class.  Instead of fields and gravel roads, neighbors surround us.  We don’t have chickens, goats, or a dog anymore.  I used to be able to see Mom and Dad’s place out the kitchen window; now there are mountains.  Many things have changed.  But the important things?  They’re still the same.

Leah is a social bug at school.  At home she usually has her nose in a book or is busy coordinating play with her younger siblings.  Of all the kids, she most misses Iowa and is looking forward to visiting there over New Year’s. 

Willem began riding his bicycle without training wheels this summer.  When he rides, he sits rigid on the seat, every muscle taut, and pedalspedalspedals.  The only brakes he applies are his shoes on the cement.  He approaches life the same way: at a furious pace and often without knowing when or how to apply the brakes.  He’s three months into kindergarten and I can no longer S-P-E-L-L some things to B.J. in his presence and get away with it.

Hardly a day goes by without 4-year-old Marie donning something sparkly and pretending she’s a princess.  Conveniently, Prince Charming also resides here.  Never mind the fact that he’s a towheaded 2-year-old who wears Thomas the Tank Engine undies.  Cinderelly has learned that if she hollers hard enough he just might leave his LEGOS long enough to retrieve the dress-up shoe she deposited on the living room floor before making a hasty exit.  Truth be told, Nathan charms everyone from Daddy’s students to the thrift store clerk with his big blue eyes and beautiful smile.

Dark-haired Eli Caleb arrived two days into the school year.  At 3 ½ months old, he sports chubby thighs, a darling grin, and – if you can catch him when he’s in the mood to be tickled or play peek-a-boo – a delightful giggle. 

B.J. enjoyed working with the Walrite concrete crew this summer.  Now he’s busy teaching 6th-11th graders science, algebra, drafting, and PE.  We are always happy to see him walk in the door at the end of the day, and Leah and Willem look forward to hearing him read from the Tolkien books at bedtime.

I am honored and humbled to be wife and mom to this bunch.   I’m thankful for prayer on the days when I feel homesick or inadequate and on the days when I’m overwhelmed by the Lord’s goodness to us.  I’m thankful for our church family and for the preaching that motivates us each week.  I’m thankful to know that our Father does all things with purpose.  Whether we move many miles or weep when family members forsake the faith, He is the Important One, and He stays the same.

­We pray that the Lord will bless you as you remember His advent and stand at the beginning of a new year.  May we be among the wise men who still seek Him, His Word the star that guides us until the day we see our Savior face to face.

B.J. & Sarah Mowery

Leah, Willem, Marie, Nathan & Eli

a mother ponders the manger

Quiet here.  "My" computer is down, Christmas program tonight, and in the meantime we're busy baking and crafting Christmas.  For this week's Enterprise...

At 3 ½ months old our little Eli smiles and sees well enough to track me while I work.  He’s almost doubled his weight, and when I sit him on my lap he holds his head upright and looks from side to side.  But in many ways he is still like the newborn he was: helpless, able only to cry when he’s hungry or needs his diaper changed.  After man’s fall, we were worse off than a newborn is – we were like dead men, who couldn’t even cry to God to save us.  “But God, who is rich in mercy, for His great love wherewith He loved us, even when were dead in sins, hath quickened us together with Christ…”  Ephesians 2:4-5.

And so our Savior was conceived and born.  The omnipresent Son of God, the Word who made and upholds the galaxies, allowed Himself to be confined by a body, to be wrapped a woman’s womb.  Mary experienced the sorrows of motherhood that every mother has known.  For it was the woman who being deceived was in transgression, and so the woman received this chastisement, “I will greatly multiply thy sorrow and thy conception; in sorrow you will bring forth children” (I Timothy 2:14; Genesis 3:16).  Mary endured the arduous final stages of pregnancy as she and Joseph made the 100-mile trek to Bethlehem.  She experienced the raw pain of contractions and giving birth on the floor of a cold, smelly stable. 

But there’s more to motherhood than sorrow, isn’t there?  Praise God, the way of our chastisement is also the way in which we experience our salvation (I Timothy 2:15).  It’s there, in the throes of noses that need wiping, bellies that need filling, diapers that need changing, and hearts that need reaching that we’re brought face-to-face with our helplessness, our sin, and the helplessness and the sins of our children.  With our shortcomings, and theirs.  With our joint need for the Savior.

No doubt Mary was a woman who, by God’s grace, met the difficulties of child-bearing and child-rearing with the faith, love, holiness, and sobriety that the Word of God demands (I Timothy2:16). Yet even though she received the epiphany regarding the child that she would bear in faith, she must have wondered how God’s people would be saved by the helpless infant she so carefully swaddled.  In His mercy the Lord sent others to confirm her faith.  The visit of the shepherds, the pilgrimage of the wise men, and the testimonies of Simeon and Anna served this purpose.  Mary’s life was not an easy one.  Those who denied her miraculous conception labeled her a fornicator.  No doubt she was humbled countless times as she witnessed her sinless son.  She watched Him enter public ministry only to endure the ridicule of the leaders of the church.  And she experienced the anguish of witnessing the death of her child, compounded by the knowledge that her sin accounted for His suffering.  Simeon had foretold her grief when Jesus was only eight days old: “Yea,” he said, “a sword shall pierce through thy own soul also.” 

But through her Son’s death, we were born.  Not of blood, nor of the will of the flesh, nor of the will of man, but of God (John 1:12 -13).  Our Lord labored on the cross, and we were delivered from sin and made the spiritual sons and daughters of God.  The adoption papers were signed; the high price paid.  And now we’re waiting.  Longing for the day when we’ll be taken Home to Father’s house.  And so the contractions continue.  All of creation, Paul wrote in Romans 8, works to bring forth His second coming.  The little one who was laid in a manger will soon appear as the mighty Lord of heaven and earth.

Do you know the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ?  Though He was rich, for your sake He became poor, that through His poverty you might become rich and inherit all the glories of Father’s heavenly kingdom (2 Corinthians 8:9). 

twelve days of Christmas

Note:  HUZ, this is the post I said you must NOT read!  :-)

December is upon us.

Last year around this time I first heard about using the twelve days of Christmas to grow your marriage.   If I remember right, it was a post by The Generous Wife.  Anyway, I promptly decided I was going to do it, and I got so excited about the idea that I sent out an e-mail to my dear sisters and sisters-in-law encouraging them to do the same.

For many of us, December can be very busy.  Christmas concerts, gift exchanges, and multiple get-togethers leave us strapped for time, money, and sanity.  Many of us might spend a lot of time baking just the right dish for the party at Mom’s or choosing, crafting, and wrapping just the right gift for our children.  Meanwhile, the time we spend on or with our spouse often amounts to very little.  That’s where this idea comes in!

Here’s the basic premise: starting December 14, you give your spouse a gift that corresponds with the number of that day.  (Traditionally the “Twelve Days of Christmas” refers to December 25-January 5 -  not here.  Not married?  You can use the twelve days of Christmas to treat your significant other, best friend, or a child or the children in your life.)  I started last year with December 14 as the first day, December 15 was day two, etc.  It was my sister Erin who came up with the brilliant idea to count down instead of up – since the gifts you give on days 10, 11, and 12 tend to be smaller, counting up can be somewhat anti-climatic. 

Let me give you a few examples to make it clearer:

Day 1: something big, a coat, an electronic gadget

Day 2:  things that come in pairs, like shoes, gloves, tickets to an event for both of you, dinner for two…

Day 5: pack of 5 razor blades

Day 6: six-pack of his favorite soda or brew

Day 10: ten of his favorite candies or fishing lures

Day 12: a 12-month planner for 2013 or a dozen cinnamon rolls to share at work

Other ideas include books with a number in the title (Last year I bought John Gottman’s Seven Principles for Making Marriage Work so that we could read it together), things for his vehicle, hunting stuff, new undies, socks, t-shirts, or his favorite treats – monkey bread, Schwans’ orange push-ups, and beef jerky are three of B.J.’s favorites.

What if the budget is kind of tight?  Where one opportunity disappears, another presents itself.  What about ideas that are service or time-spent-together oriented?  A 10-minute massage (or coupons for 10 – 10-minute massages), seven minutes of smooching, a five-course meal, two tickets to hot chocolate and a dvd from the library in front of the Christmas tree (after the kiddos are tucked in, of course), one poem or love letter.  You get the idea.

One of the days I think I’m going to do an acrostic.  Day eleven, which is December 15 if you’re counting down, happens to be a Saturday and my birthday.  And we’ve got a few free babysitting coupons from B.J.’s 8^th grade students to use up.  So we could do:

Eggs for breakfast,

Loveland’s downtown (I’m thinking browse the shops for a bit),

Eat at _______ or eat _______ for lunch,

View from the Devil’s Backbone (I’ve been wanting to hike up there for a while),

Eat _______ for supper or End the hike/day with _______, and maybe a 

Night playing board games (If your hubby prefers video games or you own a Wii, let him pick.).

Day nine, a Monday, happens to be B.J.'s birthday...hmmm, I've got some more thinking to do on that one.

Think your hubby won't enjoy this?  I didn't know if mine would, either.  But I still remember Day 3 last year.  I had a package of three air fresheners for B.J.'s truck tucked in with his tea and his lunch, tied with a tag:  "On the 3rd day of Christmas..."  As he grabbed them on his way out the door, he turned around and gave me the biggest ol' grin.  "Is this going to continue?" he asked.  And the other day when we were talking budget and I got pouty and said, "Now I can't treat you to twelve days of Christmas!," he said, "Can't you just figure out a way to do it without spending much?"  So he did enjoy it...but not as much as I did, I bet!  :-)

So there.  For what it's worth.  A sipmle idea that'll help your marriage sparkle this Christmas season.

just in case

Just in case you have a 6-year-old son whose kindergarten teacher gives him an ink pen that doubles as a flashing, multi-colored light for his birthday.

And just in case that quick-witted lad sneaks this blinking ballpoint into his bed and flaunts it at his siblings in the trundle below and in the room across the hall when all are supposed to be asleep.

And just in case he’s been reprimanded for the above so he proceeds to dismantle the gadget for entertainment instead.

And just in case you and your hubby are in the kitchen steeping tea and jigging because whew! they’re all in bed! and looking forward to cuddling on the couch when you hear a “Psssssttt!” from down that hall.

And just in case the hubby trudges down said hall to the room of the Psssssttter and stomps back disbelieving:  the. boy. swallowed. a. battery.   ?!?!?!?

Just in case all of the above, there is a National Battery Ingestion Hotline for those susceptible to said consumption.

And the people at the end of that line will calmly query, “And why did the child put the battery into his mouth?”  And you might snort at the absurdity of it all.  Why, indeed?  For safekeeping?  For use as a supersonic spitwad?  And the Battery Ingestion Expert will recommend the ER and an x-ray and Is the child having difficulty breathing? Because then an ambulance is in order.  And meanwhile you are trying to determine if the steam crawling the kitchen wall opposite you is trailing from the teapot or your dear husband’s ears.

And FYI, the Hotline people will proceed to call periodically following the incident wondering if said object has “passed.”  Now, you might feel as if you are exposed to enough excrement in a day, what with a 3-month old and being in the process of potty-training the 2-year-old, but so be it.  If it’s going to save another several hundred, the dear husband says we will be searching the stool.

Just in case.

Now you know.

Heaven: the hope of Christmas

For this week's Enterprise...

                I was there when my Grandma died twenty years ago on November 19, a dull and drizzIy day.  I remember sitting on a windowsill in the family room on her floor and watching umbrellas scurry along the sidewalk below.  I remember playing Rummikub with Uncle Dave.  Mostly I remember waiting, and the sudden, shrill beeping of the machines.  I remember touching my Grandma’s puffy hand, and Mom and Aunt Carlene crying and hugging.

                The day of Grandma’s funeral was even colder than the day she died.  I wore my purple skirt and  lavender blouse and carried a sweaty wad of KIeenex in my hand.  I remember watching Great Aunt Marge sobbing and swaying in the pew in front of us and wishing that she would stop.

                My Grandma missed Thanksgiving.  She did not get to see me when I got my ears pierced for my tenth birthday several weeks later.  That Christmas our family gathered at Uncle Ed and Aunt Carlene’s house instead of Grandpa and Grandma’s.  Great Aunt Marge sent each of us eight grandchildren a hand-written note and a $100 bill.

                Grandpa missed Grandma.  I sat with him, Aunt Bubba, and Uncle Dave one Sunday afternoon, way in the back of the church sanctuary.  When the sermon started Grandpa pulled a poem out of his pocket.   He leaned forward and stared at the words on the paper for a long time, his elbows on his knees.  “I’m having my first Christmas in Heaven!  A glorious and wonderful day!  I’m standing with the saints of the ages, who found Christ, the Truth and the Way…”

…………………………………………………………

                What are you counting on this Christmas?  Does your hope for the holiday season depend on decorating your home?  The goodies you may or may not bake?  Buying or crafting or receiving just the right gift?  On going home for Christmas, or on who will or will not be coming home?  Peace on earth?

                I learned some things about Christmas the year that my Grandma died.  I learned that you can’t count on a person or persons to make your Christmas complete.  People die.  Divorce.  Move away.  I learned that no amount of material wealth can bring peace or joy to one’s heart.  As much as I enjoy giving or receiving a thoughtful gift, I cannot remember what I bought with Great Aunt Marge’s money, even though I’d never even seen a $100 bill before.  I learned that with time, all traditions change. 

                Grandpa had it right, in the end.  Heaven is the hope of Christmas.  Our hope for those whom we love, and the hope of our own hearts, too.  All of the distractions, disappointments, and depression that can consume at this time of the year come as the result of sin.  The result of Adam’s sin.  And your sin.  And mine.  “The wages of sin is death,” but praise God for the gift that He’s given to us, “eternal life through Jesus Christ our Lord!” (Romans 6:23).

                Is heaven your hope this Christmas?

                

meanwhile...

Eli

Sweetie Pie

grows and grows...

he's now three months old!

I put this outfit from Aunt Heather and her kids on him this morning and snapped these next to the living room window.

What a sweet, smiley baby he is!  Not long ago I was asking the Lord for grace to finish out my pregnancy and for the wisdom that B.J. and I would need to parent another child.  Now we can't imagine life without you, Eli Caleb!  What a precious gift you are!

reasons for Thanksgiving

Company!  B.J.'s brother Alex, his wife, Amy, and their two boys, Ayden and Avel.

Little Man's blue eyes...and an enjoyable day in Estes.

This mild-mannered Irish Wolfhound was one of three in a shop in Estes - HUGE dogs!

Avel, who'll be one year old this Saturday!

Eli smiles.

Cousins!

Driving to Denver.

We celebrated Ayden's birthday (Wednesday the 21st) by spending the afternoon at the Denver Aquarium.

Yes, these tigers were at the aquarium as well.

Nathan's favorites were the giant sea turtles.

What an amazing variety of sea life our God has created!

Touching the sting-rays.

Supper at the aquarium restaurant...

...and back home for birthday cake.

Friends and family members around our table on Thanksgiving Day...

...and many more gifts I haven't mentioned.

"Let us come before His presence with thanksgiving..."

Psalm 95:2

grace for the good girl

My column for this week's Enterprise.  I blogged in a similar vein almost 2 years ago.

“For seven years I lived like the prodigal son.  God’s grace drew me back.  I wish abortion was not a part of my story…but it is.  It’s the part of my past that the Lord uses to heal and give hope to others.”

                I’m sitting at a conference table in a gray basement room.  It is mid-morning, and the scent of coffee lingers in the air.  There are others at the table with me: a pastor, a nurse, a grandmother, a college student.  Together we learn about abortion from Kay, the self-proclaimed former prodigal.

                That same evening I learn of another prodigal: our pastor speaks on the life of John Newton.  Rev. Key notes the godly instruction that John received from his mother until she died when he was not quite seven years old.  He recounts John’s appalling decline into promiscuity, gambling, drunkenness, and the horrors of the slave trade, followed by his conversion and return to faith in the God his mother had so dearly loved.  We learn that the prodigal once notorious for his profanity became the pastor who penned the lyrics of one of the best-known hymns of all time.  For the second time that day I’m moved to tears as we sing, “Amazing grace, how sweet the sound, that saved a wretch like me…”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

                “I feel like I don’t have much to offer.  Like I need a story.”  I’m trembling as I say this, and the lentils that I’m stirring spatter on the stovetop.  My husband leans against the counter and looks at me.  “You don’t have to make up a story, Dear,” he says.

                It’s later that I realize he’s right.  I don’t have to make up a story: I already have one.  It’s true that it’d be stretch to make my story the story of a prodigal.  On the contrary, I’ve always been a “good girl.”  I was raised in a conservative Christian home.  I was an A student from kindergarten through college.  There is no promiscuity in my past, no drunkenness, no deep, dark secrets that I’ve long buried.  B.J. and I regularly hear comments on how beautiful or well-behaved our children are.  Jill trusts me to write this little column every other week.  To all outward appearances, I live a decent life.

                But during His earthly ministry Jesus taught that keeping God’s law required inward as well as outward obedience.  Our Lord equated lust with adultery, and name-calling with murder.  He taught the Pharisees that for all their pious deeds, inwardly they were filthy.  In fact, it is in response to their accusation – “This man receives sinners, and eats with them!” – that Jesus presented the parable of the prodigal son.  And it’s as I read those latter verses of Luke 15 over again that I see myself, after all.  No, not in the prodigal.  In the prodigal’s elder brother, and in the Pharisees that he represents.  Like them, I’m prone to think that my Father’s love is based on my own good deeds and external conduct rather than on His gracious character.  On who I am rather than on Who He is.

                It’s when I’m in bed that night that my sins rise up against me.  Bursts of impatience with my children.  A surly attitude toward my husband.  The squandering of precious time.  Those evil things that I’ve committed – that I wish I wouldn’t do, but still do.  Even more, there are the things that I’ve omitted – the good that I desire to do – that I should do – but don’t.  My lack of faith.  My lack of thankfulness.  My lack of zeal.  Opportunities to share the gospel that I’ve avoided.  The reality that in spite of all I’ve been given spiritually and materially – from my godly upbringing, to a faithful church, to a loving husband and children, to many gifts that I could use to bless others –  I’m prone to discontent and self-centeredness.  To pride. 

 And yet there’s this:  in spite of myself and the little that I’ve done with all that I’ve been given, the God of heaven willed to save a wretch like me. 

                I’m a “good girl.”  The amazing testimony of my life?  There’s grace for me, too.          

               

Willem plus tag plus slide

...equals shiner...

...a real shiner.

Romney's Religion

My column for this week's Enterprise.  And another column from one of my favorite bloggers that's well-worth the read.

“My passion flows from the fact that I believe in God, and I believe we’re all children of the same God,” stated Presidential Candidate Mitt Romney in his closing remarks at the town-hall style debate held on October 16. 

My ears perked up at Romney’s statement.  The Republican Party’s nominee for President, and the man whose victory speech I hope to hear one week from today, is a devout fifth-generation member of the LDS Church.  Notably, Romney’s running for office at the tail end of a decade in which Mormons were the fastest growing religious group in 26 of the 50 United States.  A 2010 census revealed that a dwindling 49% of US citizens are religious adherents.  At the same time, the LDS church exploded by 45 percent between the years 2000 to 2010. 

The Mormon religion was founded in the late 1820s by a young man named Joseph Smith, who dictated the writing of the Book of Mormon, one of four books which comprise the LDS canon.   Mormons consider themselves to be the true church of Jesus Christ, which, they believe, no longer existed at the time that God re-established it through Smith.  Though they regard the Bible to be flawed, they still recognize the King James Version of Scripture as one of their inspired texts.  Consequently, Mormons often use Christian terminology, but terms that are familiar to us have very different meanings in the context of their religion.  Know that when Mitt Romney states that he believes in God, the god that he confesses is not the God of Christianity.

First, though, it is somewhat difficult to determine exactly what Mormons believe.  Although they acknowledge four standard written works as mentioned above, they also believe in and highly esteem continuing revelation, which they believe god makes known through the church’s living prophets – namely, the president of the LDS church and his two counselors.  However, the “inspired” declarations spoken by Mormon leaders throughout history often contradict the approved canon as well as the oracles of the prophets who preceded them.  “The key to Mormon truth,” writes Latayne Scott, a former member of the LDS church, “is found in its ultimate truth-giver; its god.”

The Mormon god as taught was once a mortal man who lived on another planet, died, was resurrected and attained godhood through “eternal progression” by adhering to the precepts of his god.  Mormons believe that their god organized this universe out of pre-existent matter, and that all humans existed in infinity as spirits before he granted them physical bodies and the opportunity to pass through mortality and progress to godhood just as he had done.  Mormons deny original sin.  They also believe that there are three levels of heaven and that hell does not exist.  According to LDS doctrine, Jesus Christ and Lucifer are both children of god, conceived by literal sexual intercourse, and they lived with god on the original earth.  Mormons believe that Jesus Christ died to make atonement available to all, but in the end that atonement (the highest level of heaven) must be attained by obedience to the laws of the gospel and the LDS Church.  Along with that idea, they consider baptism by immersion in the LDS Church and the laying on of hands – also in the LDS church – to be necessary for salvation.

Ultimately, Ms. Scott reasons: “Mormon truth is like its creator – constantly changing and ultimately human in origin.”  The Mormon god is not the personal, incorporeal, omnipotent, omnipresent, immutable, eternal, only Creator God of the Bible.  And in contrast to the Christian doctrine of salvation by grace alone through faith in Jesus Christ alone, the Mormon religion emphasizes the necessity of good works and avoidance of external manifestations of sin. 

But do you know what’s even more astounding than the fact that millions adhere to Mormonism’s bizarre, unfounded, illogical, and often contradictory doctrine and history?  The reality that there are Mormons more motivated to spread the lie than we Christians are motivated to share the glorious Truth of the gospel.  

quotable

A Warning to My Readers

by Wendell Berry

Do not think me gentle

because I speak in praise
of gentleness, or elegant
because I honor the grace
that keeps this world. I am
a man crude as any,
gross of speech, intolerant,
stubborn, angry, full
of fits and furies. That I
may have spoken well
at times, is not natural.
A wonder is what it is.

brown-eyed girl

Ten days ago our Leah turned 8.  Here's a brief, belated recap of her special day.

Leah drew a picture on the marker board of what she wanted her cake to look like.  I did my best!

Opening her birthday gift while we Skype with Grandpa and Uncle Jer...

...and Jer and Nath being silly.

Birthday supper...

 ready for bed...

a rose from Caleb - thank you, Caleb! -

and a darling bag that Grammy sewed just for her new piano lesson books - thank you, Grammy!

(Leah asks, "How did you know that my favorite color is purple?!")

It's fun to give gifts to Leah because she's so very appreciative.  She comes walking out of her bedroom the day she opened her birthday present, tears in her eyes.  "Mom, I just started crying in my bedroom...I'm just so happy!  I love my cake!  I have everything I've ever wanted!  And I never thought you would let me take piano lessons!"  And then she gives hugs and kisses and more hugs.  She was still feeling grateful five days later - here's the message she left on the marker board for B.J. and I:

Love you, brown-eyed girl!