Peanuts

I brought them home from the corner store in a brown paper bag last Saturday afternoon. Peanuts - to go with our Christmas candy. There's something kind of irresistible about peanuts in the shell, even for the likes of me who don't really like peanuts.

A little later in the day, my 8-year-old announced he wanted to make a scavenger hunt for someone. I suggested he make one for his younger sister who was having a nap at the time – that way she wouldn't see what he was doing.

He grabbed a handful of peanuts from the bag and carefully hid ten of them around the house, tucking them under things and behind things and inside things. And then he waited with eager anticipation for his sister to wake up. My daughter had barely opened her eyes and he was urging her to begin the scavenger hunt. He, of course, came along with her on the hunt, giving her hints and gleefully exclaiming whenever she found one of the peanuts. Despite the hints and enthusiasm and cooperation, they were able to find only seven.

Over the course of the next couple days, I found the rest as I was going about my daily work.  I wasn't looking for them, but there they were. Hiding on a shelf in the broom closest. Tucked under a piece of cloth on my sewing table. Languishing on a ledge in the office. Each time I found one, the inside of me warmed, thinking of my son diligently hiding the peanuts just so they could be found, and of how much pleasure that had given him on a winter afternoon.

The Christmas story is the story of God revealing himself to humanity in one grand gesture. I imagine, however, that God has revealed himself to humanity in many ways over the course of history, and in many ways personally over the course of one's life. And I wonder if it isn't a bit like my son's scavenger hunt. Some people, like the Magi, are intentionally, purposefully on the look-out for God being revealed, and God gleefully walks alongside, giving hints and rejoicing over someone's discovery. And then there are others, like the shepherds in the fields, who aren't even looking, and yet they, too, stumble across some revelation of God and their hearts are opened. I love how God makes himself accessible to everyone, simply for the joy of the discovery.

“You will seek me and find me when you seek with all your heart.

I will be found by you,” declares the Lord.

Jeremiah 29:13-14

“I revealed myself to those who did not ask for me;

I was found by those who did not seek me,”

[says the Lord].

Isaiah 65:1

Akin to a Cat

A number of years ago, we moved to a new community and were renting a small farmyard south of town. We had been there several months when winter slowly melted into spring and a bit of a rodent problem became apparent in the house. We decided we'd like to have a cat around the place, partly for the mice, but also because, really, how can you live in the country without having animals about the place?

Our neighbour down the road, a bachelor, decided he'd like to help us out. He selected his favorite barn cat and brought it over to our place in his old yellow pick-up truck one afternoon. We were humbled by his kindness; the cat, not so much. This soon-to-be-mother cat was not so impressed about having been taken from her nice, cozy barn and being plopped in a cold garage, pan of water and food notwithstanding. Needless to say, she was not planning on sticking around too long.

I was worried that she would try to make her way back to her home across the fields.  I was worried that our inability to retain the cat would look like ingratitude to our neighbour. I was worried that the cat would meet her death at the paws of a coyote or badger along the way.

Fortunately, I was able to locate her hiding in the shelter-belt behind our house.  I imagine the cat figured she had everything she needed right there – the rodents, of course, dry grass to lie in, water in the creek that ran between the shelter-belt and the field – and no strangers to contend with. I, on the other hand, knew I wanted a cat around not just to take care of the mice, but to pet and play with, something for my kids to love. I knew that the grass was dry now, but it would rain, and I could provide a nice warm box in which to have her kittens, out of the weather. I knew that the creek was seasonal and in a couple months it would dry up and water would be scarce for the cat, but I could provide it.

I was pretty motivated to make friends with the cat. I could get close to her but as soon as I would make movement towards her, she would dart away or scramble up a tree. I tried this approach for several days before I came across a bit of wisdom I hadn't heard before. To get a cat to warm up to you, you have to stand quietly and wait for the cat to come to you; even when the cat is curious enough to rub against your leg, you need to move extremely slowly so as not to startle it. This is may be common knowledge, but I had never had to entice a cat to be my friend before. All the cats I had know had been kittens that had grown into cats to produce more kittens – they were already tame and familiar.

So, armed with this new knowledge and a pan of food, I headed out to the shelter-belt to find my “friend”. I found the cat, crouched down, and waited. And amazingly, it worked. The cat noticed me, watched me suspiciously for awhile, and then cautiously came towards me, even rubbing my leg. I got excited and tried to pet her and off she went. So, I moved into her general area and started the process again, and again. Eventually, she did feel comfortable enough to come hang out in our garage and eat our food and drink our water. She remained rather skittish, but her kittens were lovely fluffy things that grew up used to our interactions.

I've thought a lot about this memory this week as I've been reading the book, Grace for the Good Girl, by Emily P. Freeman. She talks about masks, like self-sufficiency, that “good” people hide behind, and how striving to “be good” looks admirable, but is really a demonstration of fear and lack of faith in the grace of God. I know about this.

I wonder how often I don't act like that cat, struggling to rely on myself, thinking I have everything I need – until the creek dries up, distrusting the ease and freedom of being completely provided for.  And God knows my nature:  God doesn't chase me down with shouts and sticks or try to round me up with a lasso.  Instead, God comes along, moves into my general area, holds out the pan brimming over with blessings and waits for me to notice, waits for me to come, waits for me to enjoy the freedom and life God has to offer.  This is Immanuel, God with us, God moving toward us and patiently waiting for us to notice, to come, to belong.

All this took place to fulfill what the Lord had said through the prophet:

“A virgin will be with child and will give birth to a son,

and they will call him Immanuel” - which means “God with us.”

Matthew 1:22-23

Grace for the Good Girl:  I have found this book particularly insightful.  I am one of those people who does not have headline-making evil deeds to their name, but I do sometimes find my life being ruled by fear and lack of trust, which is equally sinful.  This book has opened my eyes in new ways to both my need for grace and the grace available to me through Christ.  I would highly recommend this book.

P.S.  The cats in the photos are not the actual cat/kittens referred to in the story.

Happy Meal

I took the kids Christmas shopping in Winnipeg on Saturday. I generally like to follow the maxim I learned long ago – to never shop on an empty stomach – so we had early lunch in a McDonald's restaurant. We had just sat down to eat when there was a bit of a ruckus in the next table over. It was a mom with her three young boys, probably between the ages of 4 and 9.

“If he asks you to stop touching him, you stop touching him!” she commanded with a slightly raised voice. My son and I exchanged knowing smiles; we've had that conversation in our family a time or two.

A little later, she snapped, “Get up off the floor!” to the youngest boy who had gone under the table to retrieve his happy meal toy. Also something I've said once or twice.

It was quiet over on that side for awhile, then the mom went on, “When we get home, we're going to vacuum and do the laundry.” What? I thought. All of them are going to vacuum at the same time? The 4-year-old does laundry? I bet they can hardly wait to get home! Except that I've done that too: start harping on the work that needs to be done before we've even finished the fun thing we're doing in the present. “And you boys had better clean up that entrance.... You better stop fooling around or we won't ever come here again.” Her voice kept getting incrementally louder as she carried on, which was ironic because I couldn't hear the boys at all.

“Do you want me to go nuclear? Here? In front of all these people?” By this time she was practically yelling at her sons. “Because it won't be a pretty sight!” Oh, lady, I thought, it's already not a pretty sight. We had this running commentary from the mom throughout the entire meal, and still could not hear the boys, who looked sufficiently cowed by the end of the barrage. We cleaned up in that awkward silence that happens when an adult is making a ridiculous public spectacle of themselves, where to detract from the scene might somehow implicate you.

I walked away from that scene, relieved that my kids were so well behaved and that it wasn't me making a fool of myself – this time.

But it wasn't 24 hours later I found myself talking about someone I “don't like” but really have nothing to do with personally. The words were barely out of my mouth and I knew that, just like that mom in the restaurant, I was shaming myself with my words more than I was shaming the other person. Which is exactly how I felt – ashamed.

The whole scenario made thankful in a new way for Christmas, for the coming of Jesus as Savior. For a savior who can save me from embarrassing self-righteousness and prideful imaginings that I am somehow better than others. For a savior who from the very beginning demonstrated a more humble path to follow. For a savior whose love can cover a multitude of sins.

...For unto you is born this day

in the city of David,

a Savior,

which is Christ the Lord.

And this shall be a sign unto you;

You will find the babe

wrapped in swaddling clothes

and lying in a manger.

Luke 2:11-12

All the Difference in the World

 “You know, when you think of it, everything is God's fault...,” said my oldest as he shrugged into his jacket to go outside to play. The comment seemingly came out of nowhere.

“Like even your friend who has cancer. And she never even smoked. That's kind of God's fault....”

“I mean, no offense, God, but...,” he let the comment dangle in mid-air.

Big thoughts for a 10-year-old. Difficult issues for adults. What does a person do with questions like these?

I told him I don't think God is offended when we grapple with difficult issues, ask the hard questions, try to make sense of the things that appear to make no sense, when the closeness of the trees confuses our perception of the panorama.

It is the season of Advent – the season of waiting, anticipating the coming of a Savior, of someone who will enlighten us, who will change us from people of darkness to people of light.

           The people walking in darkness

                 have seen a great light;

           on those living in the land of the shadow of death

                 a light has dawned.

                                  Isaiah 9:2

           When Jesus spoke again to the people, he said,

                “I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me

                 will never walk in darkness, but will have the light of life.”

                                  John 8:12

In a way, everything is God's “fault.” But because the Light of the world has come, we get to choose whether we will view everything in the light or in the dark. And light makes all the difference in the world.