On the tenth day of Christmas my true love sent to me: Ten
Lords a Leaping Nine Ladies Dancing Eight Maids a Milking Seven
Swans a Swimming Six Geese a Laying Five Golden Rings Four
Calling Birds Three French Hens Two Turtle Doves and a
Partridge in a Pear Tree
I'm continuing my series on The Twelve Days of Christmas. As I shared previously, Brian McLaren pushed me to ponder how I might put the Twelve Days of Christmas into action. On this tenth day of Christmas, I'm pondering the "lord" of our little hilltop manor and his love.I expect some will struggle with my usage of "lord of the manor" for my mate, but our marriage is not a patriarchy. I can jokingly and seriously call him "lord of the manor" because we both bow to the Lord. He leads with a heart of love.
Jesus called them together and said, “You know that the rulers of the Gentiles lord it over them, and their high officials exercise authority over them.Not so with you. Instead, whoever wants to become great among you must be your servant,and whoever wants to be first must be your slave—just as the Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many.” ~ Mathew 20:25-28
Shakespeare said, "It is a wise father who knows his own child." How true. There's a season for helping a child, and a season for getting out of the way, and teaching the child to do the work himself. Brother's been busy typing six pages of code into his computer this past week, so he can play Hunt the Wumpus. The day has arrived: one plays with what one has programmed.
He doesn't leap over piles, but he does light fires within. Whether on the hill, or in our hearts, minds, souls, and yes, imaginations.
From his own father, he said, he first learned that Fatherhood
must be at the core of the universe. ~
C.S. Lewis
He knows when to hold your hand,
and when to get out of the way and let you skate free.
There are three stages of a man’s life: He believes in Santa
Claus, he doesn’t believe in Santa Claus, he is Santa Claus. ~
Author Unknown
His Books
(They'd make great Valentines or Father's Day gifts.)
The Boys in the Boat I scooped it up from him, finishing it first. We enjoyed it tremendously.
The Council of Dads shares Feiler's journey with cancer. A powerful book about community, family, and sickness.
Why does expanding our capacities
matter so much? Perhaps we are rowing toward something other than the
horizon, an unknown shoreline. Each stroke pulls us farther along an
inner journey. The real voyage, whatever the boat, is into the soul.
There
is a lightness to her spirit, that belies the depth of her soul.
She
dances to please herself; The praise of men is fleeting.
Four Ballerinas by Degas
I
am a dancer. I believe that we learn by practice. Whether it means to
learn to dance by practicing dancing or to learn to live by
practicing living.... In each it is the performance of a dedicated
precise set of acts, physical or intellectual, from which comes shape
of achievement, a sense of one's being, a satisfaction of spirit. One
becomes in some area an athlete of God. ~ Martha Graham
Dancer with Tambourine by Degas
Find
your rhythm. Take the time. Work it out. Work it.
Do
not dance another's dance – dance your own dance.
Ballet Studio by Peter Miller
Dance
till the stars come down from the rafters. Dance, Dance, Dance till
you drop.
~
W.H. Auden
Text and art from Beautiful to Me, Redefining Beauty
On the eighth day of Christmas my true love sent to me: Eight
Maids a Milking Seven Swans a Swimming Six Geese a Laying Five
Golden Rings Four Calling Birds Three French Hens Two Turtle
Doves and a Partridge in a Pear Tree
I'm continuing my series on The Twelve Days of Christmas. As I shared previously, Brian McLaren pushed me to ponder how I might put the Twelve Days of Christmas into action. On the eighth day after Christmas, I'm not milking a cow, but we'll explore some moo.
I do have to share, that as J and I talk budgets, I work at my writing, and we talk and work towards Safe Families and new year priorities, we've been asking each other, "how much skin do you have in the game?" This is not a normal phrase at our house, but we keep circling back to it, sometimes testily. As I pondered this post last night, I couldn't help but laugh and ask him whether the eighth day ought to be all about breast feeding. Hey, it fits with all things milk, and well lots of skin is in that game! Alright, just teasing. Let's moooooove on.
Heidi of the Swiss Alps also comes to mind, and she makes me think of Swiss and Belgian chocolate (Fyi, Belgian is the better of the two. Sorry Heidi). So let's talk chocolate, because eight maids a milking in the French speaking Swiss Alps are certainly making chocolat au lait. What else would they do?
Lausanne, Switzerland
Many years ago, when I was here, we took a windy mountain road trip here.
Photo from Maison Cailler
We ate a lot of chocolate, and you should know, Swiss Nestle is very different from American Nestle. They are a world apart in taste, because I dare to venture, the Swiss have more discriminating palates than the Americans. Tis' true.
Watching the video, I was shocked to see the tasting room has completely changed. It's a boring white and brown, not milk brown, but not a deep dark brown either. I think that boring room keeps chocolate consumption down. Wanna bet some chocolate on it?
When I visited Callier 20+ years ago, the tasting room was filled with golden chandeliers and tiered white laced tables covered with golden platters of glorious chocolate. In those golden days, you were given 1 minute to consume chocolate. Yes, 60 seconds to eat as much chocolate bliss as you wished. But! When your 60 seconds was up, the very strict Swiss ladies standing guard over the tables bid you adieu. Their very stern statures spoke, "Don't even think about one more bite. Back away from the chocolate." I don't think anyone challenged them, and our group was comprised of 30 perpetually hungry and broke college students. We ate a lot of chocolate in 60 seconds! Ah, for those long ago days, when chocolate was not drawn from lip to hip. While, we didn't gain weight and there was no admission fee to Cailler, we paid in other ways.
The ride home was as miserly as the strict Swiss ladies. Yours truly, hadn't eaten breakfast that morning. I was planning ahead. No breakfast meant more room for chocolate. I don't think I ate a pound of chocolate, but I might have come close. A few of the guys ate well over a pound of the deep dark stuff. It seems to me, I got down 12-15 pieces, but who counted? I'll never forget the ride back to Lausanne filled to the brim with chocolate on a previously empty stomach. To this day, I have no problem enjoying a tiny bit of chocolate at a time.
So as you can see, the eighth day of Christmas really is about giving the gift of chocolate to someone you love. We're getting a jump on Valetine's, and I'm quite sure Jesus would be supportive, and if He's in, I'm sure Heidi and the Swiss ladies would endorse giving au chocolat. In Switzerland, you'd of course be required to give Swiss Milk Chocolate, but I wish for you to receive the gift of whatever kind of chocolate you find delish, and to give in kind. Do remember, some of us are deep dark chocolate purists, but we can all get along in 2015. Chocolate and world peace sounds perfect.
For those with milk allergies, dark chocolate and marzipan is a great gift. Marzipan often saves the day at our house. Especially with sister, whose sweet tooth must avoid milk. Now, back to our maidens. I'm sure they'd encourage you to give the gift of chocolate, but they'd also encourage you to think about other moo oriented gifts.
Give a goat or water buffalo through Heifer International this year. Heifer is the gift that keeps on giving because cows keep on having cows, and goats keep on having goats. A family receiving the gift of an animal through Heifer, pledges to share the offspring with others in their community. This maiden and her farm hands love Heifer. Our kids help raise money to give an animal and in exchange, they receive a very small stuffed plush to represent the animal they gave.
I get their little plush animals at a small independent toy shop. The independents do a good job of stocking Gund plush animals. I've tried to encourage the small toy stores to set out Heifer catalogs beside their plush animals. Can you help me in this? Give the gift of Heifer animals in 2015 and then give a small plush animal to your loved one as a reminder of the gift. It will bring a world of joy, and sustenance.
Ivory Coast farmers taste chocolate for the first time.
During my time with YWAM Lausanne, we went to Budapest and another large city on the African continent. We stayed on the grounds of a monastary/orphanage and we took chocolate for the boys in the orphanage. We threw birthday parties for them and played games. We practiced the gift of hospitality, and yes, we learned that a gift as small as chocolate can be powerful.
A bit closer to home, the moo in our fridge is a menagerie these days. When the kids were young, we bought organic, but then we moved back to Oregon and all milk was mandated rBST free. We felt more comfortable switching to Alpenrose Dairy and other local brands. But this year, we once again went Oregon organic. We buy a 1/2 gallon of whole milk each week and make SCD lactose free high probiotic yogurt for sister. The boys and I, drink organic skim by the gallon. I buy organic lactose free for C. Have you ever looked at the label of lactose free milk that is not organic? Yikes.
On this 2nd day of January 2015, pull up a chair and share a glass of milk with someone you love. Add a little Ovaltine and a homemade chocolate chip cookie and you've a feast of comfort and joy on the eighth day of Christmas. But, look at that! We wound our way around to milk and chocolate again.
Below is my basic chocolate chip cookie recipe. I eat them for breakfast when no one is looking. These days, we are eating more Paleo/SCD cookies. In fact, I made my first batch of homemade "Lara Bars" last night.
Kim's Healthy Chocolate Chip Cookies
I dump, blend, and add a little lactose free milk to make the batter soft. The flax meal is an oil, but it takes baking, to get it to respond like an oil, hence the use of milk to get the batter scoopable. You can also use coconut, rice, or almond milk. A super simple recipe, it takes me about 8 minutes to make this batter, if that.
1/2 cup of soft butter (or coconut oil)
aprox. 1 cup of brown sugar, a bit more is fine if you like.
Oven to 350 degrees. Mix the butter and sugar first, then add the eggs. Dump in the rest of the stuff. Mix and add milk to make the batter like consistency you want. Bakeabout 8 minutes.
Here's to strong bones and strong spirits in 2015! Take your Vitamin D and drink your milk!Bake cookies, pray, eat and give chocolate, and Bon Appetit!
my true love sent to me: Seven
Swans a Swimming Six Geese a Laying Five Golden Rings Four
Calling Birds Three French Hens Two Turtle Doves and a
Partridge in a Pear Tree
I'm continuing my series on The Twelve Days of Christmas. As I shared previously, Brian McLaren pushed me to ponder how I might put the Twelve Days of Christmas into action. On the seventh day after Christmas, I'm finding my voice like Louis, in The Trumpet of the Swan.
A classic, The Trumpet of the Swan, by E.B. White, follows Louis (Loo-ee), a Trumpeter Swan, as he seeks his voice. Louis must find
the courage to overcome his disability: he was born without a voice. He does overcome, and along the way, he learns
perseverance, finds friendship, works hard, lives courageously, and gains true love.
A compelling story, we also must find our unique voices and overcome challenging circumstances. With Louis, we ponder love in a complex world, and we ask, "Who are my friends and whom might I help?"
We all deserve a voice,
but some of us like Louis, are born without one. We greet the world in our own way, and yet must learn how to acquire our voice. We don't, as Louis did, pull on a shoe lace in order to say hello, but we do, by sheer grace and determination, pull up our
bootstraps and make our way into the world. We get out of the nest, toddling as best we can.
Photo by Nicholas Lisi
Seven Swans a Swimming was difficult to write because finding my voice is an ever present journey. Writing, day in and day out, carves out space for craftsmanship, and while it requires discipline, it is
gratifying, and mentally and emotionally freeing. But writing is not necessarily
living. Like Louis, I must find my wings and fly in order to find my voice. We all must.
Further, in an extroverted world, so many pipe up loudly and often. Like Father Cob, they are loud
and insistent with their words. We all know them. They take the world by force. For better or worse, they leave their mark on the
world and us. To often, these people shape me. Their insistence is met by my resistance. Yet that resistance, that pulling back, is costly. Certainly for a writer, raw emotion often equals excellence, but so often I'd rather be in control of my words, rather than let streams of them run where they may. All the while, I resent those who do let their words run all over. While, it's tempting to believe the world's extroverts control the world's introverts, the many words vs. the few words, I've no excuse for not crafting my own life. My soul needs me to find my voice. Robert Lewis Stevenson said, "To know what you prefer instead of
humbly saying Amen to what the world tells you you ought to prefer,
is to have kept your soul alive." Yes. I must find and craft my own voice. I must craft my own life.
And Sam
Beaver asks what we all want to know, “How does a bird know how
to get from where he is to where he wants to be? This
too, is our question.
In spite of the many voices, whispering in our ears, we must seek our own voices and craft our creative selves. In this, the proper thing to do is to sit still, and
birth what's growing under the current of our lives.
Swans must be cheerful not sad,
graceful not awkward, and brave not cowardly.
And Louis shows us the way. Louis lives his life, and he learns to sacrifice for himself and others. Ever observant, Louis saves Applegate Skinner from drowning. Even when misunderstood, Louis makes the lives of others richer and better for his presence. He keeps Serena, whom he loves and is far away, close to his heart. But in all that he does for love, with time, Louis acquires more and more around his neck. While good, these things weigh him down. Still, he presses towards his goal: Serena's love. And for the sake of his voice and music, Louis has Sam Beaver cut one of his webbed feet, elevating his trumpeting skills, even as it costs him some of his swimming abilities. Such is life, to gain in one area, we relinquish in another.
I will leave you to read the remainder of The Trumpet of the Swan on your own, but let us live with Louis' story and ask, "Who are the children around us who struggle to find their voice?" How can we help them? What about older adults, so often marginalized in our culture? How can we encourage them to use their voices? Where do we need to listen and with whom?
We also, like Father Cob, must come to grips with
having people in our lives who do not live up to our first hopes or expectations. Can we adjust? We must. The loudest must adjust to the quietest, and the gregarious adjust to the still.
And like Louis towards his father, we must adjust to the actions of others and their effects upon our lives. Father Cob's poor choice of robbing the music store, burdened Louis with a huge debt, but in the end it was also what gave Louis both adventure and his voice. As Louis embraces the challenges his relationships create, he overcomes them and uses the disabilities to his advantage. Disabilities and difficult circumstances make some of us stronger, better, and more courageous. I want like Louis, to live with courage, and to rise, finding my way into the high stormy winds of life with strength in my wings.
We also remember that while some are not so awesome at observation, they make up for it in their own way with the skill of action. Father Cob's advice is timeless:
The takeoff must be into the wind. Don't look down. Look
straight ahead, and don't lose your nerve.
The Trumpet of the Swan is my favorite E.B. White book. We read it a few years ago, discussing autism. It was a gift then, just as listening again is a gift. It reminds me that the journey to find my voice is worthy, and that in doing so, I can also help others find their voice.
This seventh day of Christmas may you be graced with both ideas and activity. Give the gift of voice to a child through the gift of story. Teach a child to read. Share an important story with someone you love. Listen to someone's story. Teach someone how to tell their story, by living your own. Nurture a soul.
Photo source unknown.
The world is full of talkers, but it
is rare to find anyone who listens.
*P.S. Listen to this on audio to enjoy Louis on his trumpet.
On the sixth day of Christmas my
true love sent to me: Six Geese a Laying Five Golden Rings Four
Calling Birds Three French Hens Two Turtle Doves and a
Partridge in a Pear Tree
I'm continuing my series on The Twelve Days of Christmas. As I shared previously, Brian McLaren pushed me to ponder how I might put the Twelve Days of Christmasinto action. Today, I ponder geese and a wild God.
Six geese a laying. Six geese a
birthing. Six ganders partnering with six geese, guarding young and birthing life. Cooperative spirits in a wild land. They are
wild migrating noisy spirits, honking their approval and
encouragement.
They fly intentionally. They fly
formally. One never carries the high winds alone for long before
dropping back. Another will step up to shoulder the burden. He who is rested moves up to where winds rage strong. They trade off the
highest winds and coldest air. They commit to togetherness, no
matter the cost. A sick, weak, or wounded comrade will be escorted by
two geese to the ground. They wait with the gander or goose
until she or he has recovered or died. They commit in birthing. They commit in dying. A sancto insulam tres.
Insula Sancta
Iona Abbey, island of Mull. Ii-shona. Picture by Oliver Bonjoch (Wikipedia)
The Celts likened God's spirit to wild geese. Migrating, even today, the committed gather at Iona Abbey, and take the spirit of Iona back to homeland and hearth. The spirit of Iona: craftsman who minister and ministers who craft. Poverty and mankind meet, living out the wild Spirit through hands and feet.
Here
I Stand
by Iona
Here I stand, looking out to sea
Where a thousand souls have prayed
And a thousand lives were laid on the sand
Were laid on the sand
Years have passed, since they have died
And The Word shall last
And the wild goose shall fly
Shall fly
Here I stand, looking out to sea
And I say a prayer
That the wild goose will come to me
That the wild goose will come to me
Iona is pilgrimage. Iona is a living breathing cell. Discerning the Spirit is the present desire. Do I want to know, hold the wild Spirit of God within?
Like wild things in our world, how quickly we dispense of God, if He encroaches upon our realm. Like the farmer, whose grasslands border the wildlife refuge, who is forever chasing wild geese away, we chase God away.
We shoot Him out the sky, the stars, and the heavens. With feet bound by us, and His comrades gathered round, He says, "Father forgive them. They know not what they do." And the grave shall not hold Him. If visions be lacking, if prophecy be false, if
revelations be lost, it is because we no longer want God in our wilderness.
Sunday it's easy to pretend we seek a wild God, but maybe we are simply running from our demons. Some Sunday's the drums rage so very loud, I'm convinced the noise is the clanging bells of hell. Yet, as we run from our demons, God speaks. The One wild Spirit lives.
God of the stillness speak today. Your voice cannot be tamed by men. Your voice cannot be taught. Your voice cannot be bought. Your voice is found in wild places. Your voice is caught in the silent space between the storms.
I'm continuing my series on The Twelve Days of Christmas. As I shared previously, Brian McLaren pushed me to ponder how I might put the Twelve Days of Christmasinto action.
I laid awake last night pondering five rings that we often wear: friends and family, community, self identity, faith, and presence. The substance of our lives is made up of these rings, the circles of humanity, that surround us.
The ring of friendship and family is fraught with trial and error, especially while young. We move from, "Who likes what I do?" to "Who believes what I do?" The journey is not without agony, where one truly loves, yet friendship and family help us survive, even thrive. CS Lewis reminds us, “Friendship is unnecessary, like philosophy, like art.... It has no
survival value; rather it is one of those things which give value to
survival.”
And Lewis on the cost of love, lest we forget:
To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything and your heart will
be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it
intact you must give it to no one, not even an animal. Wrap it carefully
round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements. Lock
it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that
casket, safe, dark, motionless, airless, it will change. It will not be
broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. To love
is to be vulnerable.
―
C.S. Lewis,
The Four Loves
I'm not an expert on the subject of love, but I do know that love is most often an act one lives out. It's rarely a 24 hours a day feeling, past the first blush of a crush. There are moments the heart swells each day, moments the heart smiles and is warmed, but much of our lives is built on living out the act of love, creating a love that lasts. Where do I need to practice love today?
The ring of community is what keeps me living outside of myself and giving something back. While children, we are hopefully nurtured in community, but by the time we reach young adolescence we ought to be giving back in community. Community sustains us, as we sustain it. Community is forward thinking. It may need to address the past, but the best communities are daily planning for future generations. They are preparing to give back, while they yet live the present day. Where do you and I need to invest in our communities in a way that only we can invest?
A Survival Birthday. Let us do more than survive community!
The ring of self identity or peace with self is one of relinquishment. I will not always be who I hope to be. I will let go of expectations that are unrealistic. I will learn to love myself by actively putting myself out there in the world and living the gifts I have been given. I will take the time to figure out what gifts I have to give. I will be brave enough to ask others around me, "what are my strengths and what are my weaknesses?" I will recognize that I can never truly love others deeply and wholly until I love myself. I will get up every day and work on this journey.
The ring of faith reminds me that I need hope coursing through my veins and the world doesn't revolve around me. It recognizes that even if I cannot see the other side of the rainbow, it is there. It attests that while I cannot see the wind, I know it exists because I see how it blows the world around me. It humbly believes that while science may solve amazing mysteries, as it opens up new ones, I will not decide mankind is God. There are simply things I do not know. This is the beginnings of faith - relinquishing faith in one's self and one's limited knowledge. Admit need. Admitting you and I don't know it all. In this place, God's spirit has opportunity to abide.
Let us remember that God inhabits the praises of His people. My heart cry this year has been and will continue to be, "More of your Spirit Lord in our home and hearts. Increase our faith in You." Certainly, we will reach children in the way that is best for them, if His Spirit is within us. How can we care for the least of these, unless we have God's heart with which to care?
Finally, the ring of presence makes all the other rings possible. All real giving is given in relationship that honors the One True Giver and the recipient. Presence requires the gift of time, the relinquishment of one's own agenda for the day. Time. time. Presence keeps us awake at night with prayers for the one who is struggling. Presence means we go out of our way to do what is uncomfortable, when it's most uncomfortable, with no guarantee that the investment will at some point turn "comfortable." Presence means there's no guarantee we'll ever get anything from the situation, but we give anyway.
Presence is not giving the repeated gift of being walked upon. Presence doesn't mean one must be subject to slander of one's self or others. Presence has boundaries, healthy ones, that recognize that your gift may be a one time investment, a pointer along their path and yours, that to give is better than to receive. Yet, presence listens to the still small voice of the Giver and knows when it's time to pull back and put one's energy elsewhere. Giving a gift is sometimes painful, and receiving a gift can even be painful, but God never intends for the gifts He bestows upon us to beat us down or berate us. God first came as love. We attempt to move from within the love of God, the Spirit of Love. But we remember, God doesn't knock down doors and force His presence and His time where it's not welcome. God shows up to those who open the door.
Let us this year wear the rings that matter most upon our fingers and interlaced upon our hearts: the rings of friends and family, community, knowing self, faith, and presence. When December of 2015 comes round, we'll have given and received gifts that matter. We'll be adorned with golden rings that cannot easily be taken away, and who's value doesn't diminish.
On the fourth day of Christmas
my true love sent to me:
Four Calling Birds
Three French Hens
Two Turtle Doves
and a Partridge in a Pear Tree
I'm continuing my series on The Twelve Days of Christmas and keeping it simple this fourth day. As I shared previously, Brian McLaren pushed me to ponder how I might put the Twelve Days of Christmasinto action.
On this fourth day of Christmas, let's savour each other and nature. In the midst of our return to busyness, let's find five minutes (or more!) to simply sit with the birds, take a walk in nature, gaze out a foggy window, or look to the heavens. Let us notice the true rhythms of a world all around us that's increasingly crowded out. Let us take time for God's creatures and for each other. Let us invest in living souls and relationships. Let us lay down Facebook snippets and really know one another. Call a friend or family member. Chat. Listen. Let us offer up the gift of presence to others, just as God invites us to the gift of His presence. 2 Peter 1:3 NIV
There are three stages of a man’s life: 
