The Perfect Christmas

My favorite two teenagers are playing Pandemic, the game their Uncle Raymond gave us for Christmas. The detailed Megablocks pirate ship is sitting safely on a shelf, and music from The Hobbit is filling the house.

Dirty dishes litter every counter and fill the sink. One of my favorite blankets lies one on end of the couch where I took a nap while watching Muppets Christmas Carol. And there is enough food in the fridge to last through the weekend.

Precious people have sent texts and made time to call.

Laughter has been loud and abundant.

Unfortunately, disease wiped out the planet's population twice, but the prime rib was perfect, so we are calling it a draw.

Last night friends came over to exchange gifts. Their presence was priceless.

I sit here now on my bed with the heater blanket keeping my chilled toes warm, and I will tell you what I've been beautifully conscious of every second of the last few days: It is the perfect Christmas.

Even sitting on the patio wrapped in a wool blanket with my coffee turning cold and the sky turning colors, I knew it, and the wonder of it all filled me so full that when the sun finally peeked over the horizon, my excitement spilled out, and I clapped and cheered.

I thought of the verse from John1:5, "And the Light has come into the world, and the darkness has not overcome it."

Indeed it has not, and where are the angels when you want to shout-sing the Hallelujahs because it is the perfect morning to shout-sing at the top of my lungs?

Every treasure I desire has filled this Christmas. Beautiful people. Laughter. Delicious food, which is a big deal because I made something special for my brother and was a bit nervous. Lovely music. Oh, and there are these wonderful, beautiful people. Did I mention them? :-)

And I just keep thinking, "This is the perfect Christmas. This is the Christmas I have longed for. This is the perfect Christmas."

My heart is full, and the smile has not left my face. My whole soul is at peace and settled in joy.

Yeah. It's the perfect Christmas.

Hallelujah!

The Hard Thing is Remembering How Easy You've Got It

Lots going on here at the Phillips Casa today.

Yesterday I put my husband on a plane and sent him to Virginia. This morning I received the call that he had arrived safely and the internment had already been held. My mind still thinks I'm too young to have a husband interred somewhere.

My dog is dying. After five days of Fred refusing to the eat the food that is good for his liver, even the vet said to get him to eat just anything, but it really doesn't matter since he no longer keeps his meds down.

My children's insurance is being cancelled.

I have to decide whether to fix the present heating system in my house or spend a few extra thousand and cut my bill by nearly half.

The 401k I inherited needs to be addressed concerning the investments for next year.

My youngest is sick with some head cold/sinus thing, so I didn't sleep because of his coughing and snorting.

Today WonderGirl and I had to decorate the cake for the baby shower he was going to do but couldn't because someone with a fever doesn't need to be decorating cakes.

So we did the baby shower cake and the devilled eggs and the pies and the rum cake and the dressing and...

And the dressing for church is ready too.

That's today's list.

Now, before you get all dressed up for a pity party, don't. I don't want to hear, "I'm sorry you have to deal with that." Everyone deals with this. This is just life. The challenge...the fatiguing part...is dealing with it by myself.

It's easy when you are married to become complacent in your gratitude. It's easy to become condescending in your arrogance. It is easy to take things for granted. In fact, it's easy to become flat out blind to the ways the other person makes your life better.

It is easy to focus on all the ways a person offends. It is easy to see the whiskers in the sink or the same meal every Friday night. It's easy to get tired of his watching football or get tired of hearing her talk about stuff that isn't really important to you. It's easy to build walls with our list of ways our spouses aren't perfect or don't meet every single need. It's easy to wallpaper our psyches with the ways we feel hurt, offended, or disinterested. It's easy to let our gripes build siege works against our marriages, and when we do, spouses become the enemy, and our family becomes the casualties.

It takes effort to be thankful. It takes effort to remember that husband who can't pick up his underwear out of the bathroom mows the yard and keeps it looking nice. It takes effort to remember that woman who has babbled on for an hour about her friends' latest drama is also the one who did the laundry so you have clothes for work. It is a choice to be thankful for the man who put gas in your car, picked up milk on the way home, fed the kids hotdogs and chips and camped with a movie so you could go out with friends. Is it the ideal quality time? Maybe not what I would want him to do every night, but just this one time, can you look at the man who is trying, the man with one kid in his lap and the other by his side under his arm, the man who doesn't know how to be the "perfect" husband but is glad you are his wife and be thankful he killed the spider and paid the bills and dealt with the plumber?

It is a choice to be thankful for the woman who sweeps and mops, buys the groceries, and makes dinner. Are hamburgers tiring every Friday night? I'd probably want something different, but today, can you  see the woman who deals with the school issues, the woman trying to balance disciplining the kids and encouraging the kids while sometimes not even liking them, the woman worried that she isn't as pretty or thin or whatever as she used to be...and maybe not as attractive to you as she used to be, the woman makes sure you have razors and toilet paper and soap in the shower and be thankful for her?

I don't know what "little things" your spouse does that makes the difference in your home, but I know it's easy to take it for granted. It's easy to stop seeing the blessing and instead see the bother. It can be a lot easier to gripe than to be grateful.

I'm not going to tell you that in light of this week being Thanksgiving you should thank God for this person who does these things that make life easier and sweeter. I'm going to tell you it's right now, and you should thank God for the person who does these things that make life easier and sweeter. I'm telling you tomorrow when your spouse is the human that makes you roll your eyes or close your ears or wish he/she were different, don't. Just don't. Don't roll the eyes. Don't close your ears. Don't wish he/she were different. Those are the stones that build hard hearts. I'm not saying don't address conflict. Address conflict, but do it with a heart of gratitude for this person. Do it with the goal to appreciate this person, not win against them. Your spouse is not the enemy. Forgetting the value of each other is.

Your spouse does not make your life hard. Your forgetting your spouse is a gift makes your heart hard.

The anecdote is gratitude...not for the big stuff, but for the everyday stuff because that is where life is lived. That is where life is made. You want to make your life with your spouse wonderful? Be hugely grateful for the little things.

May God open your eyes to see the greatness of the gift and may you extend the gift of great gratitude.

Blessings,
Jerri

The Peace of Mercy

I pulled out of my driveway at 7:15 this morning to make the nearly two hour drive to my vet's clinic. My dog spent a second night there last night. SuperWonderFred is sick, sick enough to die.

My Favorite Big Dog is having liver problems, and he's too sick for a biopsy which would give a more definitive diagnosis, so Dr. Margaret is trying to get the symptoms under control so she can get to the problem. The ultimate problem is not matter what she does, he may die.

I've cried a lot over that dog the last two days. I toss and turn at night because he's not lying on the floor beside my bed, his snoring soothing me to sleep. I walk in the door, and he's not there to meet me with a tail wag and a shove of his muzzle into my hand. His deep throaty bark doesn't fill the backyard. It's different, and it's not a good different. It's a hard different, and yet, it's a peaceful different.


 I've spent a lot of time praying over Fred, not just in the last few days but over the last few years. Fred has hip problems. He has had them since he was a year old. Some days it is hard for my big dog to pull himself up off the floor, and there are days when it is impossible for him to get on the large ottoman that gives his stiff joints a reprieve from the cold cement floor. Several months ago, Dr. Larry tried some meds to help with the pain. Thankfully, I didn't get the prescription refilled yet because, you guessed it, those meds are hard on the liver. Even before that, I worried, though, what happened when the meds didn't really help anymore or the joints just got too stiff? How would I know when the pain of being Fred was too great, and how would I know exactly what to do? How would I know the merciful thing?

In the last four years I've learned a lot about mercy. I've learned mercy does not give us what we deserve. I've also learned mercy delivers us from how bad it could be. Mercy isn't always the answer we want, but it is always the answer we need.

Mercy knows what is coming and delivers a person--or a Fred--before the worst hits. Mercy is big picture kindness.

On the way to the clinic this morning, I expected the phone to ring and Dr. Margaret to be on the other line to break the news that Fred had died in the night. He really was that sick yesterday. Even if the phone call didn't come, I knew today could be a day of hard decisions that really weren't decisions at all  but acknowledgment of the undeniable. I took the blanket Fred and I lie on when his joints hurt too much to move much, and I tried to prepare myself to lie down with my Big Dog one more time and simply let him go to sleep. This morning wasn't that morning, but we are far from being out of the woods, and eventually that time will come. Without an act of God, liver disease will kill My Favorite Big Dog.

So I pray for an act of God. The act of mercy.

I ask for God to do what is best because there are no good solutions, not any any of us want anyway. We want the pain free, fear free, death free, and there is no such thing on this earth, and we hate the truth, but the truth is this: there is always a best solution. We don't have to like it. Sometimes it rips our hearts out, but it is still the best solution.

The only solution that can make anything any better is love poured out in mercy.

So I pray for mercy knowing it may mean I will never hear SuperWonderFred snore by my bed, I may never walk into my house and feel his muzzle in my hand, his throaty bark may never fill my backyard again. I pray for mercy knowing this morning was good, and tomorrow I may get a call he's gone.

As I write that my eyes burn with tears, and my chest tightens because this is the companion who has let tears fall on his fur, laid with his head in my lap while I mindlessly rubbed my hand down his side and stared blankly into the world of can't-believe-how-much-has-gone-wrong, and moved from room to room just to be near me. He is love in a furry package with big brown eyes and a tail that can clear a coffee table in one motion. He's my Fred, and I can't imagine the silence of his not being here.

And even as the tears fall, the peace holds.

The peace that the Almighty God who gave me the gift of Fred knows how to give the gift of mercy to Fred.

I don't know what that mercy looks like. All I know is I've seen enough of God's mercy to know it may not be the answer I like, but it is the answer that is good. And in that goodness, my heart finds peace.

So you know....It's October...In a Good Way

Here in Texas, we generally have three seasons: Summer Hot, Summer Cooler, and Cold Windy. Summer Hot and Cold Windy are not the easiest times to work outside. Summer Hot runs the risk of heat stroke. Cold Windy is just miserable. So, if you want to get work done outside, Summer Cooler, like right now when it is only in the mid-80s, is the time to do it or wait until Summer Cooler around March and April when it could also be monsoon season with tornadic interruptions .

I'm going to try to take advantage of Summer Cooler in October and as far into November as possible, so my posting may be erratic. I'll still try to post at least once, hopefully 2 or 3 times, a week, but just in case I don't, I want you to know that, yes, I'm not posting because it is October, but in a good way.

If you don't want to check back daily, you can subscribe by email to get posts directly to your box or like my Facebook page to see posts there.

Y'all be blessed, and I'll see you next week!!!

When It's October

The temperatures dip lower, but the trees haven't caught the drift yet. Leaves still cling green, and grass still requires my mower's attention. It's a beautiful time of year in Texas.

It's also the hardest time of year, and I think this year...is just hard.

Last week Mom had been gone four years. Not something I dwell on. Not something I mention to anyone. The tombs is not where I dwell, but last week I had a stomach virus and really wanted comfort foods that might stay down. I was craving chicken and dumplings, so I reached for the phone to call Mom and get the recipe. It got worse because then I remembered she had given the recipe to Rob one time when I had the flu so I needed to call him...but neither had written it down. How do you let people die without getting your favorite recipes from them?

Over the weekend I was walking in a clothing store when I saw the perfect, non-Virginia Tech shirt for Rob. Right style. Right fabric. Right color. He had one in every color he could find. I have often regretted giving those away with the rest of his clothes, but probably just as well because I would probably wear one, and really, how lame is it to wear the shirt that smells like the husband who didn't want to be married to you anymore?

As I was saying, I was walking down the aisle of this clothing store and saw the shirt, so I stopped my shopping cart, picked up the sleeve, and stopped just before I put it to my nose and breathed deep. Needless to say I felt stupid expecting it to smell like him.

Now it is football season, and I miss hearing his yells of ecstasy and agony as he watched Virgnia Tech football, and I miss his laugh.

Isn't it weird how I don't miss being married to him, but I miss familiar pieces of him?

Tonight I stood at the sink and washed dishes, and big tears fell.

For whatever reason, the thought, "Thanksgiving is next month," came through, and I just put the dishes down and let the tears fall hard into the sink of sudsy water. I don't like Thanksgiving. I don't like Christmas, and I would pay someone to stay at my house and pet sit so I could be anywhere but here.

I breathed deep and kept washing. Like walking away from a sink full of dishes could make it better anyway.

Three movies come out this month that I want to see, and I can go see them by myself. I've done it before. It's just, for some reason going to a movie alone screams lonely to me. Movies should be enjoyed with someone, but then, I think most of life is meant to be enjoyed with someone.

Yesterday was my youngest brother-in-law's birthday. He hasn't spoken to me since the funeral. I don't have his phone or address or email and wouldn't know what to say even if I did.

And last week I wrote Rob's dad and told him we wouldn't be making the trip to see them. In all honesty, I am sorry. I have great compassion for his dad. When his dad and I talk, I always end the call with, "I love you," and I do. But some who are involved in the family fallout still struggle with trust or have simply seen too much to want to make the effort. I'm not judging, and I won't say they are wrong. I'm just infinitely tired of living in the aftermath of someone else' bad life choices. If anyone needs proof lies will blow a family to pieces, the damaged relationships Rob left in his wake say it all.

And I think this October is harder because this is not where I expected to be "four years later". Mentally and emotionally I think I "reached the other side" awhile back, but this is not the lifescape I had envisioned.

Sunday on the way home from church, we discussed God's faithfulness, and in course of conversation, it became obvious I'm not the only one struggling with feeling disillusioned, trying to trust God but wondering what in the world He is doing. As my son said, "Mom, hearing people say God is faithful is like the parent who says they'll get you a toy but not today, so when you mention it next week, there's another reason why it isn't that week. Three months later, there is a reason why it isn't then, and eventually, they say they'll get that toy for you so long that it is no longer even relevant." I understand the feeling.

Then I think of Abraham and wonder if he had an October. Maybe his or Sarai's birthday when the age went up and still no baby. I wonder about Joseph. How many Octobers did he think of his dreams and his brothers while he sat in a country not his own without a family of his own?

I don't know. The Bible doesn't tell us a lot, except for one moment with Abraham. God visits Abraham and tells him He is going to pour out blessings so big Abraham can't imagine, and Abraham, this man we know as righteous because he believed God, answered, "What's the point? What does it matter? Who cares if you give me the world if I don't have an heir?"

I love this. Oh. My. Lands. I love this.

"Yeah, um, that's great, and I appreciate the thought, but, God, here's my heart."

Then there is the moment when Abraham's honesty could have slipped past the line and God could have gone fire and brimstone on this ungrateful piece of mud called human.

But He doesn't.

Instead, He speaks right to Abraham's heart. "I know. I promise. I've got this. I've got you. I've got your heart."

Isn't that beautiful gone stark raving mad?

Instead of seeing a man dissing the promises, God saw a man sitting right in the middle of October.

And this is what I have to believe.

I have to believe God sees me right in the middle of my October, and He sees my dreading Thanksgiving and Christmas. He sees me swallow hard when I see a VT shirt because He knows the laughter I'm talking about. He knows I miss Mom's perfume. He knows very well I'm not the only person who doesn't dig "alone." He knows. He sees me. He's right in the middle of it with me.

I don't have the promises Abraham had or the dreams Joseph had. What I do have is a God right in the middle of October with me, and since I am trying so hard to be brave and healed and all things faithful and faith-full when I'm honestly sad and kind of confused but really, what do I say about the fact it is four years later and something in me finally realized my mom is gone and who could can remotely grasp anything to do with...Rob? And right now when I feel like no one could possibly understand any of it, the fact He understands it all gives me a place to breathe. It gives me a place to talk, to process, to navigate October.

The peace isn't in knowing all the promises that will come someday. The peace is knowing He sees me now. He knows me now. He has me now....especially when it is October.

2014 Copyright Jerri Kelley Phillips
All rights reserved

I Love When Truth Just isn't Enough

She is utterly indignant that someone could ever question the similarity between Christianity and Buddhism. How could anyone put the two in the same sentence little less suggest they are truly similar?

So I ask, "How are they different?"

She looks at me and says in a hard, pointed tone, "Christianity is the truth, and everything else is a lie."

I wait a moment and then ask, "And that is supposed to be enough for me to embrace the Cross, fall on my knees, confess my sins, and find salvation?"

Her breathing goes shallow, and her eyes look at me as though she can't believe I have the audacity to take up oxygen. "It's the truth."

"And that is it? That's the best you've got? Because if I am anything other than a Christian, that means nothing to me. If I am anything other than a Christian, I think I know the truth, and that whole God killing people because He's having a tantrum thing is not going to cut it for me."

She leans forward. "Just because they refuse the truth doesn't make it untrue."

"They aren't refusing the truth. You simply aren't telling them the truth."

She is disgusted with me and my abandonment of God's truth as the absolute truth. I'm not very impressed by her either, but, I've been her, and there is hope for us both.

Honestly, I haven't abandoned God's truth as absolute. If anything, I am more convinced of it than ever, not because someone told me it was truth and said not to question it but because I went rogue and questioned everything.

I started singing my own wild version of Berean Rhapsody and came out the other side with an understanding of Christ and His heart. I gave up the law that had been drilled into my head and embraced the love that was trying to change my heart. I studied topics such as baptism, hell, sin, salvation, the Holy Spirit and how it functions, along with gifts and fruits and holiness. Now when people want to have a conversation about Christ and the Bible, I can speak to their questions, not just regurgitate rote "truth".

 I also read about other religions so I could have respectful conversations with those believers. Love is respectful, right? Love values the other person, right? I'm not saying I have to value the theology, but I need to value the road that person took to reach that destination. Only in understanding their road can I understand and speak to the ways Christianity is different and how it would have handled something differently.

I looked at my friend and stared at the arrogance she robed herself in, an arrogance I was all too familiar with because after all, I had it right, and those heathens were...heathens. In that second, I could have been the arrogant one because I know the truth about the differences. I know Christ, not just Christianity. I could have rolled my eyes, let her be disgusted, and rationalized my silence. Instead...

I said,

"There are two major differences between Christianity and any other belief system.  

One, every other belief system is built around the idea that a person can earn a better afterlife through self-perfection. All the work is on that person to get better, do better. They are a save yourself system. Christianity is the acceptance that we can't save ourselves, that we can only be saved through Christ. Everything we really need has to be done for us because we are helpless to do it ourselves.  

Two, in the other religions, you may get 'enlightenment' from some source, but you are on your own to make it happen, to make your life happen, to be the person you want to be. In Christ, you are never on your own. God is always reaching. We just have to realize how desperately we need to be found."

 The difference between that Buddhist and me? I saw the hand reaching for me and took it. They either haven't seen it or haven't taken it, but God is still reaching. Who knows but that I am the one He is reaching with. I'll never reach them, though, if all I have to offer is a swap from one law to another. If I want to reach them, I need more than a law. I need love. And that is the absolute truth.

2014 Jerri Kelley Phillips
All rights reserved

God's Sense of Humor

Some folks are unaware that God has an interesting sense of humor. Remind me to tell you about "Joshua, Remember Jericho, and Thick walls," sometime. But today, I'll stick to God's sense of humor this morning at church....during worship...

Believe me, I tried to find some kind of play on words for that because...well, you'll see.

Last week and yesterday, I wrote about worship. I was honest about my struggles with worship at the church we've been attending the last few months. As I said, love the people. Pastors are solid. I'm just struggling with worship.

I rarely know the songs. I can't follow the words on the screen very well because I don't know the tunes. It's just...been a challenge.

But, I don't want to be like I used to be and make it a big ridiculous deal because that is just immature, petty crap. The songs are good. People are worshipping. It's just me, BUT, God is so faithful to use trials to build character and mature us, and for me, not being able to participate well in worship is a trial.

I've also shared what I've learned from this trial. I've learned worship isn't about what I sing or how I sing it but the One I choose to sing for and to.

Worship is a response to God reaching out to me.

Even music I "don't get" can get me to God if I have the right heart to find His hand in it.

I told you about the two boys on the front row who took pleasure in their worship and how I could feel God's pleasure in them. That is beautiful worship. Seriously. It does not get better than that.

Today I went to church, and before I ever reached the sanctuary, I saw the worship leader. I like him. He's a good worship leader. As we chatted, he mentioned that he read Friday's post on worship. He was very complimentary and asked if he could post some of it to the worship blog for the church.

Are you laughing? At least chuckling? It gets better.

First, I have to say that the order of the service was rearranged to the "traditional" order of service, which totally threw me. While I have no reason to think my blog had anything to do with that, I did mention that last week in one of my posts. If you will recall, I said we do worship after the sermon. It was different, but we left church singing, which I like.

That's at least worth a smirk, but the really belly laugh...

I knew all but one song we sang this morning. ALL BUT ONE SONG.

In fact, I knew them so well, I could sign most of the words.

Even better?

One of the songs we sang is EXACTLY what God has been saying to me all week long.

If I am with you, nothing can stop you.

What do you think could ever come against you that could nullify my promises?

Nothing can stop my Word.

Nothing.

Maybe you've heard the song before. Maybe you need to hear the words right now.
We sang it this way:
If our God is for us, then who could ever stop us?
And if our God is with us, what can stand against?

And you'll have to wait until later to hear about the whole sermon thing, but for now....

I'm shaking my head. I hope you are laughing. Isn't that just so God?

And, yes, I do believe God was laughing through the whole thing, nudging whoever was close, saying, "She is going to laugh so hard!"

And I did...and am.

There are so many things about God that leave me in silent awe. He is just so beautiful, so wondrously, can't take Him all in, beautiful, and one of my very favorite aspects of Him is His sense of humor. I love that enjoys having fun and just enjoying mine and His relationship--us. I love that He has given me His sense of humor. Some say it is vicious, in a maybe not-so-good way. I think it is God-size fabulous. It's just so very Him.

Last week, I didn't mention laughter as a means of worship. It never even crossed my mind, but funny enough, today, it's my absolute favorite kind of worship.

Blessings!


2014 Copyright Jerri Kelley Phillips
All rights reserved