The Perfect Christmas

I have wonderful memories of Christmas as a child.  One particularly clear memory is of the year we had blue lights (why blue?) and live greenery decorating the roof edge of our house.  Wearing Chinet paper plates for halos,  my cousins, brother, and I knelt in the blue glow and pretended to be angels worshipping the baby Jesus.  This picture of our childish, simple worship has remained in my mind over the years.

In adulthood, I've learned that  things aren't always what we hoped or planned.  High or unrealistic expectations can lead to disappointment and frustration.

Christmas can fall into that category for me.  In my imagination is the "perfect Christmas" where my home is clean and beautifully decorated, the table is laden with wonderful and delicious food lovingly prepared by me, every member of our family receives just the gift he / she has been wanting, and we all feel the love.  Snow is softly falling outside, and in the glow of candlelight, our family is all together singing Christmas carols.  Picture the closing scene of "It's a Wonderful Life" or your favorite Christmas movie. 

In reality, I become overwhelmed by preparations, shopping, and to do lists.  The end result is a testy, resentful attitude.  My home is not clean or beautifully decorated.  I don't really want to cook enough food to make a table "laden."  But I do want each member of my family to receive the gift he or she needs most, whatever that may be - and it usually doesn't come in a box.

Since I'm Queen of Procrastinators, I almost always underestimate the time remaining before a deadline and how long it will take me to accomplish the necessary tasks.  This year, I thought I had 3 weeks left, only to realize that Christmas is just 2 weeks away!  And so.... I write.

Holidays, and especially Christmas, can be times of stress, family discord, unmet expectations, sadness and depression for some.  Thanks to movies and TV, we have plenty of mental images of the "perfect Christmas" that have nothing to do with the real meaning of Christmas.  Those pictures in our minds of the perfect holiday have more to do with cinematic magic than with a baby born in a cold cattle stall. 

When I think of the fragility of a teenage girl giving birth in a stable and the frailty of a newborn baby lying in a manger, I am struck by the terrible perfection of God's improbable plan.  Could there possibly be a more unlikely way for the Son of God to enter into our world?  No strings of lights, royal proclamations, fireworks, or billboards announced his arrival.  Only a star in the night sky, a sign for those who were watching - a few shepherds, angel choirs, and wise men traveling from a long distance.  The incongruity of God's plan is stunning in its simplicity. 

This year,  may we rejoice  in the simple.  May we celebrate His birth in worshipful, real and honest ways, not cheapened by commercialism or our own selfish expectations.  The truly perfect Christmas is not found in a beautiful tree, expensive gifts, or gourmet meals.  The perfect Christmas is spent in the wonder of a stall with a baby, surrounded by the messiness of life.  



     



   

Politics, football (& religion)

       

It’s often said that politics and religion are two topics best left alone.  In the Deep South, few things are more beloved or hotly contested than religion, politics, and football.  In fact, football IS a religion to some with politics a close runner up. 

 

But here's my suggestion. Support your candidate without attacking the character of the other person running for office. Cheer for your favorite team without trash-talking the competition.  Promote your political party or personal beliefs without degrading those of others.

 

After perhaps the most contentious campaign in U. S. history, the presidential election is just days away.  I wonder how many others are weary of the name calling, mud-slinging, and back stabbing that modern politics have become? Attack ads, rude interruptions, distortions and outright lies are commonplace in the race for President of the United States, the most powerful and one of the most distinguished positions in the world.

 

Politics in our nation have devolved to the lowest form of competition. Rather than running on a record or promoting new ideas and plans, candidates at all levels employ negative ads and character assassination to win elections. At a time when our nation needs true leadership that is selfless and positive, political rhetoric has reached an all-time low. But the trash talk doesn't end with politics.

 

Sports fans are not content to simply cheer for their team. Allegiance to a particular school or team has also sunk to new depths as fans try to boost their team's credibility by verbally destroying the competition.  Those who do this feel the need to tear down their competitors in an effort to elevate themselves. This negativity often leads to ugly confrontations, mean spirited accusations, and downright hatefulness.

 

There are those who employ this same tactic to promote their team, personal ideas, religious beliefs, political views, or other agendas. But behaving like a school yard bully should not be accepted or glorified, whether it's in the political arena, a football stadium, or through social media. Attacking and belittling the beliefs and allegiances of others just because they differ from your own is social bullying.  It is alive and well in our country and is one of the most insidious forms of persecution and discrimination.   The attidtude seems to be:  If you don't agree with me, you must be ______.  (Fill in the blank.)

 

All this makes me wonder… what would Jesus do if He were here today? Somehow I don’t think he would be trash- talking the opposing team. I don’t believe he would humiliate or demean those who supported a different candidate for public office. Jesus convicted his detractors without stooping to petty name-calling.

 

So here’s a little test. As you read the following questions, mentally fill in the blanks. Your answers should reveal something about your attitude.

 

1.) What is your favorite sports team? ____________. Who is their biggest rival?___________. What word would you use to describe the rival team? ___________.

2.) I support ___________ for President of the U. S. When I think of the other candidate, the word(s) that come to mind are _____________________________________________.

 

I challenge all of us to dial down the rhetoric, cool the smack talk, and take a deep breath before posting that snide comment or making a sarcastic comeback. Support your candidate, cheer for your team - just don't do it at the expense of another.

 

"Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable--if anything is excellent or praiseworthy--think about such things."   Philippians 4:8

 

 

 

 

I can only imagine...

     Yesterday, I heard "I Can Only Imagine" by Mercy Me on the radio.   I haven't heard the song in awhile, but I was instantly moved to tears and transported back to the moment I first heard it...at the funeral of a young man named Tommy who died too soon.  Our son was a pallbearer, and the large church was filled to capacity, with an overflow watching on monitors in a fellowship hall.  The service was moving and somber, a sad but joyous occasion because of Tommy's faith.

     In the fall of 2001, this song was newly released.  Tommy had heard it on the radio and downloaded it.  A friend sang it beautifully on that sad day which ended with bagpipes playing a mournful rendition of  "Amazing Grace" at the cemetery.

     That fall was a season of sadness.  First came the death Jake, the 15-year-old son of a high school friend who died in a tragic accident.  His funeral was so moving, sad - both a terrible and blessed day. 

     Then came 9/11, a time of intense national mourning and renewed faith.  That day had a profound impact on our nation and each American personally. But it was life-altering for the families of those who died on that awful day.

     Hearing this song again almost always brings tears as I remember the anguish and grief of those dark days, but I also rejoice in the hope believers have in Christ.  For every believer who has lost a loved one, this song opens a floodgate of praise. 

     " I can only imagine, when that day comes,
       And I find myself standing in the  sun.

     "I can only imagine when all I would do,
      Is forever, forever worship you..."

     If you've never heard it, or even if you have, listen and worship.

     http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N_lrrq_opng


     "No eye has seen, no ear has heard, no mind has conceived what God has prepared for those who love him..."  I Corinthians 2:9

    Blessings on you today....

    

Reach Out & Touch

"Reach Out and Touch (Somebody's Hand)" was the debut solo single for Motown singer Diana Ross, released in April 1970.  The message of this song is hauntingly relevant in a world often devoid of human touch.

I wrote a few months ago about the impersonal nature of modern communication methods. We have reduced human contact to the maximum number of characters allowed in a tweet or text. We find affirmation in how many pins, retweets, comments, or "likes" we can accumulate. Through social media we can be "friends" with literally thousands without ever leaving home, meeting them, or even speaking to them.  We share personal information with multitudes, but do we really communicate?   

Communicating in our world is complex, instantaneous, and can occur completely without human contact. But contact is the key for humans.

Communicating is much more than just an exchange of words. When we converse face to face with another person, we send and receive messages in a multitude of ways. We connect through voice, eye contact and body language, shared memories, laughter, and touch. The best part of a meal with friends or family is the conversation, the connection we feel to those with whom we share the table.

Being able to see, speak with, and hug my adult children is a balm for my mother's heart. No matter how old they are or where they go, there is no substitute for actually sharing the same space with those I love. When weeks or months pass without seeing them, I feel a physical longing just to be with them.

Last summer at a wedding reception, an acquaintance told about the difficulty of communicating with her son who is in the military and was stationed at the time in South Korea.  Due to the time difference and the nature of his work, she lamented that she was only able to connect with him every few weeks.  Overhearing this, my son jokingly said: “I just live in Chicago, but my mom thinks it’s South Korea.”  It’s true; I do. While I appreciate the technology which allows us to stay in contact, I still want to see, speak with, and touch my family.

I was recently reminded that God feels the same way about us. He desires honest, real, face-to-face communication, not a brief text or tweet. He’s not satisfied with an email, video chat, or voice mail.  Like a loving parent, He wants the gift of our time and attention. There is no way to feel connected to Him without spending time with Him; there are no shortcuts to a relationship with Him. 

He doesn’t need our contact, but He wants it.  In the Garden of Eden, after Adam and Eve had broken His command and sinned, God came looking for them.  They hid in their shame.  “But the Lord God called to the man, ‘Where are you?’”  (Genesis 3:9)  Even knowing what they had done, God still desired to be with them, as He does with us.  Amazing….

“You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart.”  Jeremiah 29:13

Link to "Reach Out and Touch (Somebody's Hand)" by Diana Ross.  http://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_detailpage&v=g-7qCG2_aaA

Early Morning Reveille

     When I went to camp as a child, we were awakened each morning by a scratchy record playing "Reveille," a trumpet call used to awaken military personnel at sunrise. The name comes from "réveillé", the French word for "wake up."  The sound of this familiar melody playing over the camp PA system was a signal for campers to rise and begin the new day; it was a morning wake up call.

     Mornings are best savored slowly for me now, which doesn't always happen.  I don't drink coffee, but I do have a morning routine that brings guidance, comfort, and peace.  So this is how I love to start my day....

      I begin with the Bible passage for the day in my One Year Chronological Bible (NIV).  I'm reading through the Bible this way for the second year, and I truly love it.  The entire Bible is divided into daily readings in the order the events actually occurred.  This arrangement has been very enlightening and has taught me so much. 

     There are three devotionals I like to use, if there's time. 

      Jesus Calling by Sarah Young is an excellent devotional book which I began reading in 2011.  It is written as if Jesus were speaking to you, and I often feel the day's entry is just for me.  The devotions are short but powerful.  The Bible verses included are always thought provoking.  Looking up the Scriptures has become a sort of spiritual treasure hunt for me after I finish reading the devotional - I'm excited read the verses and see which will "speak" to me each day.  This tiny little book has become widely popular, with sales exceeding 2.5 million.

     The Upper Room Daily Devotional is another important part of my morning.  I have been reading this little devotion daily for many years, and it is always insightful and relevant.  There is a Bible reading, short devotion, prayer, and thought for the day.  I'm often amazed at how devotions written by people from all over the world can speak to me personally as if written just for me.

    The third devotional book I use if possible is Choosing Joy: A 52-Week Devotional for Discovering True Happiness by Angela Thomas.  This book focuses each week on a different aspect of intentionally choosing joy in our daily lives and offers practical help for Christians.  I just began this book in 2012 but really like it.

    The most important part of my morning reveille is my prayer time.  I use a journal and incorporate Scripture into my prayers.  And I always begin with I Samuel 3:10- "Speak, Lord, for you servant is listening."

     Sometimes I listen to or sing praise music, light a candle, or write a psalm of praise to God.  Always I am changed....

     On the final day of camp, reveille was replaced by a cheesy song which happily proclaimed: "Good morning, good morning!"  What makes your morning good?  What is your reveille?

    

The Garden of Forking Paths

            My freshman comp teacher (whose name I have mercifully forgotten) believed himself to be a deep thinker. During class, he often dispensed wisdom about things he found witty, interesting, or absorbing while maintaining the façade of an academic elite. On a rainy day, he once said in a serious tone:  “The thing I hate most about rainy days is the rain leaves little brown circles on the toes of my tennis shoes, and they won’t wash out.”

He was study in contradiction who kept changing the rules.  This created frustration for students trying to determine exactly what their instructor required to get a good grade.  At the beginning of the semester, he promised a term paper at the end of semester would count for a large percentage of the final grade.  This produced hope that, while he gave out very low grades on essays, a good term paper could save us. 

But then, near the semester’s end, he suddenly had a mathematic epiphany and realized that allowing the final term paper to count so much would negate our earlier efforts.  This was exactly what we desired!

 

The most memorable thing about the class, however, was a single short story.  While we were required to purchase a literature book, we read only one story in the book.  We spent long, tortuous weeks reading and re-reading that story: The Garden of the Forking Paths by Jorge Luis Borges.  We studied the story line by line, word by word. With mind numbing determination, we discussed every nuance of the story, whether intended by the author or not.

 

"Red," he would say. "What deep, philosophical implications do you see in that word?"

 

This exhaustive examination of an obscure short story produced in most of his students a deep desire to bang heads against the brick walls of the class building.  The teacher’s motivation for such in-depth study of the story was lost on his students.

 

But the reason became clear to me a couple of years later when I learned that this instructor had written a thesis on The Garden of the Forking Paths by Jorge Luis Borges.  So we, his students, were unwitting and unpaid research assistants in his pursuit of a doctorate.

 

When I realized how the instructor had subtly coerced students to assist in his research while pretending to teach, I was outraged.  I felt disillusioned, cheated, even used.

 

He used his position for personal gain.  And the world seems to be sadly full of people like that today. What do you think?

Can you hear me now?

Remember those Verizon wireless commercials in which an employee is shown in unusual places trying to get good cellular service - in a tree or on a rooftop, always asking, “Can you hear me now?”

This commercial seems sadly symbolic of communication in our modern culture.  We have never had so many forms of communication available to us, and yet personal communication has never been more endangered.  Can anyone hear me, we wonder.

Email, texting, social media networks, cell phones, twitter... the list of communication tools is endless in today’s world.  We have more ways of being in contact than ever before but many people are starving for meaningful connection with others. 

A handwritten note or letter could be treasured for years, but letter writing is a dying art.  Conversation has been replaced by short messages sent electronically, and texting, with its own abbreviated language, is the preferred mode of communication for most young people.  Brevity, convenience, and speed are valued more than personal contact.

To know and be known is a basic desire of all human beings.  Does the distant, impersonal nature of modern communications meet that need?   

          While we may use and enjoy many forms of current technology to   communicate, we long for a more intimate link with the people around us. Feeling understood, validated, and valued come through human touch, honest conversation, eye contact.  There is no electronic substitute for these.      

          Communicate.  Listen.  Reach out and touch another life.  You will be touched and changed, too.    

Safe!

          In baseball, when a runner reaches base without being tagged, the umpire signals and yells, “Safe!”  This seems to be strangely symbolic of my adult life.

I wonder when I began to value safety more than risk-taking?

          I used to love the Tilt-a-Whirl and riding my bike downhill with no hands, the wind tearing at my hair.   I was a wild child who once “ran away” from home through the town drainage ditches and culverts, while my family searched frantically, making it all the way to the other side of town before a good Samaritan returned me home.

My younger brother and I, accompanied by our usual cohorts, spent entire days “exploring” creek beds, and no one knew where we were.  We were fearless… unafraid of snakes, drowning, or danger.

We were daredevils who played chicken at night by lying down on the center line of the highway in front of our house, a risky venture considering it was a main thoroughfare with a dangerous curve blocking view just beyond our house.   

We swam in rain-swollen drainage ditches, climbed trees, slid down tin roofs, and shared grand adventures.  The town and surrounding area were our frontier, and we were daring explorers who knew no fear. 

I envisioned myself exploring Egyptian pyramids, solving mysteries like Trixie Belden, or becoming a spy like the Girl from U.N.C.L.E. 

When I look back on the child I was, I wonder how I became the adult I am.  Was it growing up? Becoming a parent?  Experiencing the inevitable failures and disappointments life brings?

Or is it growing old, trading the thrill of the dare and the lure of the unknown for safety and security?

          Vance Havner said: “Many people are in a rut and a rut is nothing but a grave - with both ends kicked out.”

I need to kick out the ends of my rut and see where the adventure leads.

Halfhearted or Lukewarm

            I have pondered these two words for several weeks since they popped up in my reading.  The quote that started it all was this: “Halfhearted efforts produce mediocre results.”(*)

            What a simple and yet profound statement.  How often has my own effort been halfhearted and yet I expected, or hoped for, good results.  While this is certainly not a novel concept, it is one that had an impact on me.  It was one of those “aha” moments when I gained insight into my own nature as well as human nature in general.

On a much larger scale, this attitude appears to pervade much of modern society.  We are content to just get by, putting forth the minimum effort required but hoping for the maximum reward.  We want success but don’t really want to invest the work, discipline, or time necessary to achieve it.  We applaud overnight sensations, easy money, and instant gratification. 

Our society seems to value the acquisition of power, money or fame even more when it is attained with less effort.  In fact, the person who finds a way to make a quick buck or reach star status without “paying dues” is often perceived to be smarter than the one who worked hard.  Climbing the ladder to success without really exerting oneself is a no brainer in today’s world.

This makes me wonder how values like character, integrity, determination, and hard work are perceived by most people today.  Is the student who studies diligently seen as less savvy than the one who makes the same grade by cheating?  What about those who have attained incredible business success but dropped out of high school or college.  We celebrate shortcuts, get rich quick schemes, and lottery winners. 

What does this say about our society, our world?  I fear where it leads.  And I am challenged to be wholehearted and committed, to give my best and pursue excellence – not mediocrity.

 “So because you are lukewarm – neither hot nor cold - I am about to spit you out of my mouth.” Revelation 3:16

 * Quote from Made to Crave by Lysa Terkeurst

             

A little smoother...

Have you ever been recalibrated?  Recalibrate - to calibrate for a second or subsequent time.   Calibrate is a technical term meaning “to adjust precisely for a particular function” or “to measure against a standard.” In layman’s terms, this can refer to resetting the function of a device to original or enhanced performance levels. 

            Have you ever had your reset button pushed so that your priorities were realigned?  We can go along in life, blissfully ignorant in our own little world.  Then suddenly, something causes us to take a u-turn, assess the situation, and have a seismic shift in our attitude.

In his book A Bend in the Road, Dr. David Jeremiah describes how a diagnosis of cancer dramatically readjusted his own priorities and attitude.  He called such life events “a bend in the road” and relates stories of difficulties, adversities, and challenges others faced which shaped their character and values.  Course corrections in our lives can come in a multitude of ways, both good and bad – success, tragedy, the birth of a child, loss of a job, death of a loved one, a new place, empty nest, full nest, milestone reached or missed, triumph or defeat.  There are infinite ways in which our vision may be tweaked and fine-tuned by life circumstances.


            A Peanuts cartoon depicts Lucy sitting in her five-cent psychology booth dispensing wisdom when Charlie Brown stops by for advice: “Life is like a deck chair, Charlie Brown,” she says. “On the cruise ship of life, some people place their chair at the rear of the ship so they can see where they have been. Others place their chair at the front of the ship so they can see where they are going.”


          Lucy looks at Charlie Brown and asks, “Which way is your deck chair facing?” In his typical pessimistic fashion, Charlie replies, "I can't even get my deck chair unfolded."


          There are times when, like Charlie, we struggle to get our deck chair unfolded and rail at the chaos and confusion of our lives. There are times we feel overwhelmed by thundering waters of despair, accosted by past failures, and crippled by fear of the future. All of our life experiences shape who we become. They can recalibrate us, in a sense.

In her beautiful song “Rolling River God,” Nichole Nordeman portrays God as a river and humans as little stones in the riverbed being buffeted and polished by the rushing water.  Sometimes raging and swollen, the river’s work never stops until stones once rough and grainy become smoothed by the relentless power of the water.  I especially love these words:

“And when the sunset comes,

My prayer would be this one.

That You might pick me up
And notice that I am

Just a little smoother in Your hand.”

            Praying to be a little smoother in His hand....

Rolling River God

By Nichole Nordeman

Rolling river God
Little stones are smooth
Only once the water passes through
so, I am a stone
Rough and grainy still
Trying to reconcile this river's chill

But when I close my eyes
And feel You rushing by
I know that time brings change
And change takes time
And when the sunset comes
My prayer would be this one
That You might pick me up
And notice that I am
Just a little smoother in Your hand

Sometimes raging wild
Sometimes swollen high
Never have I known this river dry
The deepest part of You
Is where I want to stay
And feel the sharpest edges wash away

 

How I met (and fell in love with) books…

          My love affair with books began quite early. Some of my first and most vivid memories involve reading, being held as I listened to stories read aloud.  As the fifth of six children, I was read to by my parents and siblings, but I don’t recall favorite books, other than Little Golden Books, The Child’s World: Stories of Childhood (which I still have), and the big family Bible story book. 

Kindergarten was taught in her home two blocks from mine by Mrs. Doolittle, whose most memorable talent to me was being ambidextrous, a huge factor in my own ability to write left-handed without the awkward grip so many lefties have.  We learned together, played, and had homemade birthday cakes made by our teacher with pastel pink, green, or blue icing, the color choice up to the birthday boy or girl.  Every day, we walked across the street to the elementary school cafeteria to drink chocolate milk. 

I don’t remember learning to read or any favorite books from kindergarten.  But I do remember the very large (coat size) shiny green box I toted to school daily containing my most valued possessions, including an extremely large, heavy family Bible.  That’s the only thing I know was in the box.  Why a gift box instead of a book bag, you may wonder?  So do I.  And why a family Bible?  Who knows.  

 My first real recollection of learning to read comes from first grade.  My teacher, Mrs. Cook, taught us to read about Dick, Jane, and Sally from the huge, oversized reader in the front of the classroom.  As a reward, we were sometimes allowed to sit in the back of the classroom and read books when our work was done.  I have happy memories of sitting under the shelf containing verdant houseplants cascading down in shady green curtains.  Hidden away under this lush tent of fern fronds and trailing vines, my best friend Anna and I would become lost in the books and stories we read.  We loved being in this secret world where we felt both safe and daring at the same time, sharing our newfound reading skill and exciting literary adventures. 

As I grew older, my reading experiences increased and expanded.  The library in our little town became a favorite destination.  Housed in the building with city hall, it was rather small by modern standards.  Sometimes my mother would take my brother and me, or I would walk or ride my bike the few blocks from our home and spend hours curled up in a corner reading, scanning the shelves for the next book I wanted to read.  The librarian, Mrs. Cole, did not seem to mind my long visits and exhibited remarkable forbearance with my library habits.  I once checked out a biography of Mozart for weeks on end simply because I thought it looked good propped on my bed for passersby (my family) to see through the open doorway.  The book cover matched my room décor perfectly! I am happy to say that since then, I have never chosen books to read based on their color scheme or decorating potential.

In college, my roommate and I often swapped paperback romances.   I almost always read a book to completion, and I seldom re-read books.  Once I know how it ends, it has lost its mysterious attraction.  But my roommate selected books by first reading the ending.  If it seemed good, she would read the book.  If not, she didn't read it.  To me, this was sacrilege! 

From my earliest memories, books and reading have been a big part of my life.  My professions, first as an English teacher and then working in libraries, have been closely related to my passion for literature and reading.  And the adventure continues…..   

The little soap bird...

          Opening a cabinet, I discover her perched there on a high shelf… the little bird made of soap.

I haven’t been a teacher for over 30 years, but I still have the little soap bird, a gift from a former student.  It was so lovely I decided to save it for a special occasion – which apparently never came.  So there sits the little soap bird on the shelf, exactly where it has been for all these years, waiting patiently to be used, never fulfilling its intended purpose.  She’s only slightly the worse for wear, with a tiny chip missing from her beak.  Why have I kept the soap bird so long and never used it?  Why do we save things for some future time and deny ourselves the enjoyment and pleasure of using them in the present? 

Upon opening a gift of a scented candle or beautiful note cards, a friend often exclaims, “You know I can’t use it!”  Just like me with the little soap bird, she finds it difficult to make herself use the gifts she is given, saving them for some unknown future day when the time is suddenly right to burn the candle or write on the note cards.

My mother stockpiles nightgowns and robes for the possibility of a hospital stay.  Her closet and drawers are filled with new pastel robes and gowns while she continues to wear old, threadbare ones. 

What is it within us that chooses to save, hoard, or postpone using the gifts we have been given?  Is it some deep-seated feeling of unworthiness that makes us believe we are undeserving of gifts.  Maybe we fear some future time of need in which we will require just the thing we have been saving.  Or possibly we cannot bring ourselves to open the gift and thereby destroy forever its pristine newness. 

We are all given gifts every day which we choose to use or store.  Used, they can bring delight and fulfillment.  Unused, they sit high on a shelf, neglected and unable to fulfill their created purpose. An unused gift is lost potential, stifled joy.  A gift is meant to be opened, used, and shared….like a box of Godiva chocolates.

This year, I resolve to open and use gifts, not save and hoard them.  I want no more little soap birds but a life of extravagant thankfulness and grateful generosity.