This tender image painted by the Danish painter Frans Schwartz at the end of the 19th century, was brought to my attention recently, and I find myself coming back to it again and again. It amazes me, the kind of emotion that can be captured by the talented brush strokes of an inspired artist. This is not the whole picture, its a close up of the faces. While the full image is breathtaking, I am drawn to, and am captivated by these faces.
We learn about it in Luke 22:43,44
“And there appeared an angel unto him from heaven, strengthening him. And being in an agony he prayed more earnestly: and his sweat was as it were great drops of blood falling down to the ground.“
Agony in the Garden by Frans Schwartz 1898
Years ago, I was reading this story from a beautiful illustrated children’s book to my then 4 year old granddaughter Rebecca. At this point in the story, when the angel comforted the Saviour, I said aloud “I wish I was that angel who did that for him.”
She sighed and softly replied “I wish ‘I‘ was that angel.” I reflect back on that previous shared moment from time to time. I’m quite sure she has no recollection of it. But among other things, it testified to me of the power of inspirational art to convey the spirit, and the ability that a child has to respond to it when given the quiet opportunity. And it testified to me as well, of the importance of seeking out those quiet opportunities.
I also reflect on the fact, that sometimes, all you can do is offer love and support. There wasn’t a single thing anyone in this universe could have done to take away His pain, or to even make it easier. But this! . . . THIS could be done. . . . A tender embrace, a demonstration of love and empathy, and in this case – heart rending gratitude. For some reason, we do not know the name of this angel, this privileged one sent from above, while many others undoubtedly stood ready, wanting to do the same. What an honour to have been the one to embrace Him at that pivotal moment in time. To have been the one to offer Him comfort, heavenly succor and support. And more personally – Gratitude. Because after all, He did it for us. For you and for me. Personally. Privately. And yet for us all.
Dieter F. Uchtdorf said “What the Saviour did from Gethsemane to Golgotha on our behalf is beyond my ability to grasp. He took upon Himself, the burden of our sins and paid an eternal and binding ransom not only for Adam’s original transgression but also for the sins and transgressions of the billions upon billions of souls who have ever lived. This eternal, sacred sacrifice caused ‘even God, the greatest of all, to tremble because of pain and to bleed at every pore, and to suffer in both body and spirit.’ (DC 19:18)”
Look closely at his reddened eyes in this achingly tender image. At the furrowed brows. I love that his eyes are open. Look at the soft and gentle face of the angel and the enveloping embrace. Though none of us will ever have to experience the depth of His suffering, we know that we do have “our own dark and bitter hours” as Elder Uchtdorf calls them. “Times when our sorrow and grief may appear to be greater than we can bear. There will be times when the weight and remorse of our sins will press mercilessly upon us.”
We can be assured at those times, that we are not alone. That He went before us, and suffered all those things. And not just for our sins, but for our sadness and grief, and hurts of every kind, for our sickness and afflictions. To take them all away. As I heard one say some time ago (referring to suicidal thoughts and intents) “We don’t have to die for our sins. Someone already has.” He knows and He understands. He’s been there. He gets it. He’s atoned for it all. He’s taken my name through the temple of Gethsemane, individually. I don’t pretend to know how, but I absolutely know it. He knows me. And He knows you. He can and will strengthen us. And by taking advantage of that sacrifice, we don’t cause him any more grief, we don’t add to the cost – because the price has already been paid. Whether we accept the gift or not, it has already been purchased. For us.
This song Wondering by Aaron Edson, was brought to my attention from a friend Ron Bissett many years ago. He played it to me over the phone, a poor recording he found somewhere. He wanted me to find him a CD (back before the days of Spotify etc). He asked me because we owned an LDS Bookstore at the time. I found it for him, and for me, and for several other customers, because that over the phone introduction made it personal for me too. Thanks for the tip Ron. Enjoy.
I really hope that I was that angel, but I kinda think I was not. Unlike the angel however, HE can take pain away. And I can be that angel to others, embracing, comforting, supporting, … not able to take grief away, but loving them through it, and hopefully pointing to the One who can take it away – who will take it away.
Just some of my thoughts on a tender subject. I’d love to hear your thoughts on it.
Somewhere within my first year of marriage (within the first 6 months), I experienced an abrupt metamorphosis in my life. I stopped going out. Stopped leaving our apartment. Stopped even answering the door. It didn’t happen suddenly but sudden enough. It took months before it became evident that it was a ‘problem’ more than a choice. I wouldn’t go downstairs to use the washing machine. Dan bought me a little washing machine we hooked up to the kitchen sink. I wouldn’t use the dryer so we had clothes hanging all over the living room for hours to dry. I’d go to church and to my parents and Dan’s parents houses, but no where else – unless Dan was with me. I wouldn’t go for a walk. If Dan wasn’t home I wouldn’t answer the door. It went on for a couple of years. We had disagreements about it. Dan would say “You NEVER go anywhere!” “Yes I do. I go to Church. I go to your Mom’s.” “You never go anywhere without me.” “I go to Relief Society.” Those were places I felt safe.
Dan tried his best to encourage me to go out. We’d go for walks. We’d go over to Westmount Mall across the street. He tried to get me to apply for a part time job. One day he pushed me out the door, and told me not to come back for an hour. “I don’t care where you go” he said. “Anywhere! But do not walk back inside this door for at least an hour.” I sat on the back door step and cried for an hour, then came back and said I’d gone for a walk.
That might have been my first big clue as to how big this problem was becoming. I was pregnant with my first baby and I began to wonder what kind of a mother I could be. What would I do when it came time for him to go to school? I knew I couldn’t take him the way I was. I began to acknowledge that this was bigger than me, and all my excuses and justifications began to sound lame – even to me. I realized they were strategies to cover up the fact that I wouldn’t / couldn’t leave the house.
Five babies and I never went to a single doctor’s appointment alone.
After Jacob was born I began having Dan drop me off at the library on his way back to work after lunch. I would hide in the back behind books with the baby stroller until I was brave enough to walk by the librarian and out the door. Then I’d walk home. Eventually I got brave enough to get a library card and actually sign out a few books. It was pathetically slow progress, but it was empowering.
“Cognitive Behavioral Therapy” is the term Luke told me described what I was doing.
It took me YEARS to get through it. Years of being controlled by fear. Thousands of experiences. Lots of strategies that I would implement in trying to control my fear.
No one ever knew what we were dealing with, although my behaviour had to have been difficult for some people to understand and I’m sure there were rolled eyes – because sometimes my excuses sounded lame even to me. I remember once a friend at church telling me “They totally knew you were home Cindy” after I couldn’t open the door when the home teachers stopped by. Dan wasn’t home and I didn’t know they were coming. I couldn’t deal with surprises like that. I was SO embarrassed. We lived in a branch, so they had driven over 30 minutes to get to my house. I felt terrible. Still do.
One evening, – skipping several years and four kids ahead – Dan and I were watching W5 on TV, and they did an Expose’ on Agoraphobia. We were riveted to the screen. We had never heard anything like it. I remember saying to Dan “There’s a name for it. It’s a thing! There are people like me.” You never see them of course. Because they’re at home.
Skip ahead another few years – I thought I was better.
After I had Luke I said to Dan while we were doing dishes together one evening. “Its happening again. I can feel it. I’m in trouble.” He said “No Cindy. We’ll never let it happen again. We know what to look for now.” “Seriously? I haven’t been out of this house in six weeks. Did you even know that?” No. He didn’t. And that was what scared me. “You LIVE with me! That’s how good I am at this. Not even the people I live with know what I’m doing.” It took me three weeks before even I knew what I was doing – but at some point my reasons started sounding contrived, and I knew. I also knew that if I fell back into that hole – I’d probably never have what it took to get back out again. I knew there wasn’t a thing Dan could do if I didn’t buy in.
I began to develop strategies. It helped that I had told Dan.
Skip ahead another few years. We owned the bookstore by then. I started working a little from home. On the computer. I had the ability to manage the store computer from home. One day I said to Dan “It’s happening again. I can feel it.” “No Cindy. We’ll never let it happen again.” “Dan! I haven’t walked out that front door for over TWO WEEKS! Did you even know that?” No. He didn’t. “I manage a bookstore! Dan if I can figure out how to stay home, you’ll never get me outta here again!”
I began to think of it as my demon.
So all that was to give you some context for the Life Hack that changed my life.
My first year working in the bookstore – I didn’t know anything. Christmas. Wow. In a retail business I discovered, your 4th quarter is everything. A good 4th quarter will pay your rent till June – which you need, because not every quarter is a good one. That first January I had a big crash.
The next couple of years as I learned the business, that 4th quarter became even more stressful. Christmas started in April – and I started seeing old familiar feelings surface. But now I was trapped. Old strategies weren’t transferable.
I remember kneeling beside my bed – begging for help. And I hit upon a plan. I would schedule a CRASH for January. That way I could be in control of it. I looked at my calendar – and with all my January commitments in mind – found THREE days that I could afford to have a nervous breakdown. I blocked them off and let everyone know that I was out of commission those days. They became sacred days to me. And I knew that they had to trump everything. I had too much at stake to lose control again. I knew that if I didn’t control my demons, they’d control me. I’d been there. I had done that. I never wanted to go back again.
I remember standing at the til chatting with customers and occasionally one of those days might get mentioned. “Oops” I’d say “I can’t be there. I’m having my nervous breakdown that week.”
It became something to chuckle at and joke about – but I was dead serious. I knew that those three days I would be home. Doing – – – who knew? Maybe read. Maybe stare out the window. Maybe I’d have a few hot baths or stay in my pajamas all day. I didn’t plan to answer the door, or even answer the phone.
It was therapeutic even thinking about it. Freeing. It was my light at the end of the tunnel. Every long day as I drove home overwhelmed – I’d think “This is okay. I’m having a nervous breakdown on January 22. I can do anything.” By PLANNING it, and scheduling it I controlled the when and where. By limiting it to three days I stayed in control. I might stay in bed and cry for three days, but at the end of that third day – I knew in the morning, I’d get up, shower and dress and life would go on.
I cannot tell you how much that helped.
I’ve since discovered there’s a name for that too. MAP. My Action Plan.
Who Knew?
My MAP evolved – it changed the way it looked over time, but I kept those days – and I kept control. It was the light at the end of my tunnel.
I learned many things through this process –
I learned what Cognitive Behavioural Therapy is. Who Knew that going to the library and hiding out behind the books before could have such a cool name?
I learned that we can help ourselves and that if we don’t – nobody else can.
I learned that we never know what someone else is going through.
I learned that we need to give people grace. No matter what.
I learned the meaning of this scripture “IF men come unto me, I will show unto them their weakness. I give unto men weakness that they may be humble; and my grace is sufficient for all men that humble themselves before me; for IF they humble themselves before me, and have faith in me THEN will I make weak things become strong unto them.” Ether 12:27 That’s an IF – THEN promise. My favourite kind.
I learned that my weaknesses were MINE. They are actually a gift – specially designed for me. Given to me from God. They’re not going anywhere. They can however, be changed into strengths if I allow that to happen. “I the Lord am bound when ye do what I say; but when ye do not what I say, ye have no promise.” DC 82:10 Of all that I could have bound to me, I can think of nothing I’d prefer than Him.
I learned that weaknesses don’t just go away. Though it may seem that they have – they are in fact, still there. You learn to manage them, but they’re always yours. Remember, they have a purpose.
I learned to “search diligently, pray always, and be believing, and all things shall work together for your good, IF ye walk uprightly and remember the covenant wherewith ye have covenanted …” DC 90:24
ALL things – that’s pretty inclusive. It doesn’t say ‘some’ things. It doesn’t say ‘most’ things. It doesn’t say all things except mental illness or cancer. It literally says “ALL things.” That means even our weaknesses, IF we walk uprightly and remember our covenants. Another IF – THEN promise.
I learned that with God, my weaknesses can become strengths. But that doesn’t happen by pretending they’re not there.
All this is very self absorbing. And its easy to get lost in one’s SELF. But to do that is contrary to God’s way. Somewhere along the line, I learned another hack that helped immensely. In a private conversation in our family room – Michael McLean shared a hack of his own. He has never made a secret of the fact that he suffers from clinical depression. That’s his demon. And yet, he’s a performer, in the public eye a lot. What seems to be his greatest strength is actually his weakness turned inside out. I asked him “What about when you’re not feeling it? What about if you just don’t feel that you can pull it off?” His answer: “Sometimes, its not about YOU.”
He shared his testimony about the antidote to “YOU”. He said that if it was always about him, he’d hardly ever do anything. He said that sometimes it had to be about something more. Look up, and look outward. As a people, we greatly desire to become Christlike. We try to be Christlike. We pray to be more Christlike. So IF that’s truly what we want, when was it about Him? In all scripture – when was it about Him? It was always about someone else. The person he was healing, preaching the doctrine of his father, even on the cross it wasn’t about him. Twice in scripture the Savior posed the question – “What manner of men [and women] ought ye to be?” The second time his answer was “Verily I say unto you, even as I am” (3 Nephi 27:27) So it becomes a point of doctrine to try to be like Him.
Michael said to me, that before entering any door – we should briefly pause and ask ourselves – “Who is the most important person in this room?” Then look around. Occasionally the answer may be ‘me’. Today I am the most important person in this room. And if we are, then we are entitled to all sorts of self centered thoughts, opinions and feelings. “I’m uncomfortable. I’m busy. I have a lot on my mind. I don’t even really want to be here. I never know where to sit anyway.” And all those self directed thoughts are justifiable – when you’re the most important person in the room.
But what if – just IF, you’re not. What if you decide that . . . SHE is the most important person in the room. Immediately, your thoughts shift. You think – “Wow, she’s having a good hair day. Looks like a new dress. I really like that colour on her. There’s an empty chair beside her. I should tell her how much I enjoyed her son’s talk in sacrament meeting. I should tell her what a kick I got out of her daughter when I subbed in primary last week.” See how things in your head change? Less thinking about you – and more about someone else – creates a headspace that is more healthy. More selfLESS. More willing to serve. More considerate of another’s feelings. More willing to take care of someone else. It is true what they say, about focusing outward. God can work with you better when you’re willing to look outward.
Talk about your Action Plan. Best action plan ever!.
By doing that – you take care of yourself in the best way possible, and you invite the spirit to hang out with you more often. Your best friend.
These are two of my Life Hacks. 1. TAKE CONTROL of your weaknesses BEFORE they control you. Give them some space. A safe place. And fair time. Then put them away. 2. Remember, it’s not always about YOU. In fact, it seldom is.
You’ve got this. With God, “All things” can work together for your good. Believe it.
I am loving my study of Jesus the Christby James Edward Talmage. I have read it before but its been a long time, and it is an excellent companion to my current study of the New Testament. In 1905, the First Presidency of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, requested Talmage to write the book that would later come to be known as Jesus the Christ. They requested he compile his lectures (as a professor of religion), into a book that could be widely available to church members and other readers. At the time, Talmage had many responsibilities with his church callings, his family, and his profession that kept him from starting the book but nearly ten years later, following another request from the First Presidency, he began in earnest writing Jesus the Christ. Such was the importance the First Presidency placed on the writing of this book, that they set aside space in the Salt Lake Temple for him to work uninterrupted and without the usual distractions of everyday life. Just under one year from starting it, Jesus the Christ was published in September 1915.
I am utterly amazed with every page that I read. Especially when I consider the conditions and time that Brother Talmage wrote. Writing in the world in which I live, I have at my fingertips, this computer – that I not only type on, but edit my own thoughts, and through which I can research almost any subject or printed work I desire. Most works on the life and ministry of the Saviour were written after Talmage’s time, though I am certain he had a few respected works that he read from. The most important sources of information however, were the scriptures themselves. and of course continual communion with the spirit of the Lord throughout the project. Clearly the fruits of his work were meant to be shared. It is my highest recommendation that everyone read it – at least once, hopefully several times. I promise that you will feel the spirit as you do, and that your testimony of Jesus the Christ will expand. You will refer back to the things you learn for many years to come.
What a joy it is for me to read it again with a few other women friends who are also reading in conjunction with their current study of the New Testament. We are taking turns reviewing chapters, and this chapter fell to me to share. In the interest of time (as I tend to be too wordy anyway) I chose to focus on Zacharias, as his story spoke to me.
My thoughts on chapter 7, the Annunciation of John and Jesus.
The story of the annunciation of the most important birth in the history of the world, and the annunciation of the forerunner that accompanies it, are in my opinion commonly skipped over, as to be almost a postscript of the Christmas story. We are all familiar with the stories. We could relate them briefly from memory: Gabriel visited the elderly priest Zacharias in the temple, and told him his prayers had been heard and that he and his wife Elisabeth would soon have a son. The angel told Zacharias that this boy would be great in the sight of the Lord, and that his name was to be John. We know that the priest was amazed to the point of doubting that such a thing was even possible, due to the age of he and his wife. He asked for a sign and was given one – that he would be dumb until the foretold events unfolded. And so it was.
We know that the same angel visited the young Mary a few months later, and gave her similar news. That she would conceive and bear a son whom she should name Jesus. We know that Mary was a virgin – which was integral to the story because no mortal man would be the father of this child. He would be the Son of God. Nothing doubting she willingly submitted herself completely, to her role in this wondrous plan. We know that the angel told her about her older cousin Elisabeth’s condition and that Mary went to visit her. We know that the two women, old and young – found solace in each other as they sorted out their respective roles. And then we get to the real event: Christmas story about the birth and the shepherds and the heavenly choir and the wisemen who came from the east. And we leave the annunciations to the side for another year, and another brief recounting.
I love that an entire chapter in JESUS THE CHRIST is devoted to fleshing out these two stories because in them lie truths and context that will aid us greatly in our understanding. Beginning with the story of Zacharias and Elisabeth, Elder Talmage explains that many generations had passed in Israel since any heavenly contact had been noted, even in the temple. In fact, the people had come almost to believe that those were things of the past and that there were no longer prophets in Israel. So it is not difficult to imagine the surprise, and even a healthy trepidation when Zacharias found himself no longer alone as he fulfilled his singular responsibilities in a part of the temple that was forbidden to everyone except for a chosen priest when called upon to be there. And even that priest would likely only be there once in his lifetime.
It may seem unnecessary but I believe it is important to Re-emphasize that Zacharias was a ‘good’ man. Such a good man that Luke described both he and his wife as “righteous before God, walking in all the commandments and ordinances of the Lord blameless“. I’d love to be described that way. Truly they “walked the covenant path” as we would say today. They had lived their lives out, never having been blessed with children – which no doubt was a great sorrow for them (for a number of reasons). The angel implied that that sorrow had been the subject of many a prayer on the part of Zacharias when he said “Fear not Zacharias; for thy prayer is heard; and thy wife Elisabeth shall bear thee a son, and thou shalt call his name John.” He further said that the couple would have joy and gladness and that many others as well “would rejoice at his birth, for he shall be great in the sight of the Lord, filled with the Holy Ghost, even from his mother’s womb.” The angel said that John will go before the Lord teaching, and making ready the people for the Lord.
This ‘forerunner’ had been prophesied by Old Testament prophets, just as the coming Messiah had been prophesied, and there is little doubt that Zacharias recognized the prediction of what the angel now referred to. And THIS is where we should remind ourselves how good a man Zacharias was, because he had a ‘weak moment’, and for that weak moment – that temporary lack of faith, he was severely chastised. Gabriel stood tall and let Zacharias know just who exactly he was speaking to. “I am GABRIEL, that stand in the presence of God; and am sent to speak unto thee, and to shew thee these glad tidings. And behold, thou shalt be dumb, and not able to speak, until the day that these things shall be performed, because thou believest not my words[!]” Take that Zack! That good and faithful man’s worst day was recorded for the rest of Christendom to reflect on for two thousand years. And sadly, it is the thing he became best known for. How would you like your worst moment – the one you regretted from the get-go, to be what you are immortalized for?
If John was foretold, and set apart before the world began for his great calling – as we believe those “noble and great ones” that Abraham spoke of were, then it was also known who his parents would be. Brigham Young said of Joseph Smith’s heritage “The Lord had his eyes upon him, and upon his father, and upon his father’s father, and upon their progenitors clear back to … Adam. He has watched that family and that blood as it has circulated from its fountain to the birth of that man.” John too, would have had chosen parentage, chosen and set apart for their respective roles and responsibilities. Zacharias was special and so was Elisabeth. Long before they knew they’d be the parents of the one who would introduce the Saviour of the world to humanity, it was known who they would be. Zacharias was no ordinary-joe; he was a noble servant of God, who ultimately gave his life protecting his son when Herod slew the innocents in and around the hills of Bethlehem. And yet, in a critical moment he hesitated / he doubted. No heavenly visitations recorded in Israel, no prophets speaking to Israel in over 500 years! That the first one in half a millennia would tell you something as unexpected as what Gabriel told that aged priest – who could blame him for doubting? Would we do any better?
Zacharias lived with that sad sign for nearly a year – unable to verbally communicate with anyone, including Elisabeth – about the wondrous-ness of what they were experiencing. Talmage refers to him as “highly blessed though sorely smitten”, the penalty for his doubt already operative before he left the temple, and in place till his tongue was loosened on the day of John’s circumcision when he burst forth in prophecy saying among other things “And thou, child, shalt be called the prophet of the Highest: for thou shalt go before the face of the Lord to prepare his ways; to give knowledge of salvation unto his people, by the remission of their sins, through the tender mercy of our God ….” Talmage said “The last words Zacharias had uttered prior to the infliction of dumbness, were words of doubt and unbelief, words in which he had called for a sign as proof of authority of one who came from the presence of the Almighty; the words with which he broke his long silence were words of praise unto God in whom he had ALL assurance …”
Yes, I think there may have been a little ‘shame’ in Zacharias having to live with the consequence of his doubt and challenge to the angel – so unbecoming of someone like himself. And yes, I think there might have been some tears as he confessed to Elisabeth why he had lost his power to speak. How could he not have felt it? But he was a better man than to wallow in it. He had learned a good lesson that I doubt he’d ever forget. He and Elisabeth had nine silent months to draw closer to God and to feel of His great love for them, and to marvel at the fact that they were about to have a son, and not just any son! It’s insightful to consider the humility that would naturally accompany the assignment to parent such a child! Such a privilege. Oh, I am SURE they knew they were loved and trusted – notwithstanding past mistakes.
There may be times in our lives when we’re not our best selves. Times when our faith wavers, when we doubt and question things we never thought we’d doubt or question. Or perhaps someone we love lets us down in the moment they should have done better. I believe Zacharias would have some counsel for us. I believe he would own his ‘moment’ and refer to it as the great lesson it was for him. I’d love to hear his counsel. I believe he would ask us to allow ourselves a little grace, and that he’d reassure us God never stops loving us – even when we have to live out some natural consequences of our actions. “Let God prevail” I think he would say. And surely God WILL prevail.
Thank you Zacharias for moving forward in faith. And for never wavering again. Thank you for telling your story so that Luke could write it down many years later. Thank you for being brave enough to let your weak moment be known, so that we could learn from it, and more understand the nature of God. Thank you for the important role you played in events that you never lived to see transpire. Thank you for living your life in such a way that God chose you to play that role.
Thank you Elisabeth for loving the man that he was, and for being patient in living with the consequence of his mistake, not your own. Thank you for being a true mother in Zion even when you despaired of ever having your own children, and for devoting the rest of your life to raising this one very special son.
Thank you Luke for being kind to Zacharias as you shared his story, and for emphasizing that notwithstanding what we were about to learn about him, he was an exceptionally good and obedient man, walking blameless before the Lord.
Thank you Brother Talmage for feeling a love for Zacharias, and for helping me to see him through a different lens.
I’d love to hear your thoughts Reader, on this great and humble figure in the New Testament – who would have lived his life out in obscurity except for the son he would sire. And of course his one weak moment.
Warmly,
Cindy Suelzle
*quote about Joseph Smith’s heritage found in Teachings of Presidents of the Church: Brigham Young (1997), pg 96. *other quotes found in the chapter reviewed here
One day whe Luke was three or four years old, he said to me “Remember when Jesus came to our house Mom?” hmmmm, I was a just a little confused …. “Nooo Luke. I don’t remember that.” “Mom! He came. Remember?” I racked my brain trying to recall some bearded man who had recently come to visit us. But couldn’t. “uh, no Luke. I am sorrry. I don’t remember.” “Mom! You were there!” Had Brother Blommaert come to visit? He had a beard. “Mom! He ringed the doorbell!” Had Brother Blommaert dropped something off recently? When I wasn’t home perhaps? “And he gave you a present.” …. oh my – this was getting very mysterious. “Jesus gave ME a present Luke?” Brother Blommaert MUST have been by. “Yes! And the present was all wrapped up in a blanket.”
Feeling very sorry to disappoint him, but not recalling any recent event that might fit into the description he was giving me, I admitted defeat. “No Luke. I am sorry. But I cannot remember when Jesus came to our door and gave me a present.” “MOM! And he said SURPRISE! and when you opened it up, it was ME!” The light went on. “Oh Yes! I certainly do remember when Jesus gave me a wonderful surprise, and you’re right, it WAS you. Best surprise ever. …… But Luke, Jesus didn’t actually ring the doorbell.”
Luke couldn’t remember a time when he hadn’t heard the wonderful story of how he came to our family. “A long time ago, there was just Mommy and Daddy, and Jacob, and Sarah, and Zack and Joseph. But no Luke. We thought everybody in our family was home. But you weren’t with us yet. You were still living in heaven. You were waiting for your turn to come to us, but we didn’t know that because it was a surprise. And we were just going about doing our stuff. And you were saying “Wait! Wait for me.” but we couldn’t hear you. We were having a picnic, and riding our bikes, and eating dinner and reading stories and you were saying “Hey! Wait for me!” And then one day, Heavenly Father said “its time to go join your family” and you were so happy. And Heavenly Father told us “Surprise!” and He gave you to us. And we were so surprised! And so so so happy.”
Well that boy is almost thirty years old. And just about three decades ago Heavenly Father really did tell us “Surprise!”, and a few months later, Luke joined our happy family, completing that generation of it. April 7 1990. A Happy Day for all of us. Luke gave Jacob the chance to re-find his tender-big-brother-side, Sarah the chance to practice being a mommy on her own real-live doll. He gave Zack and Joseph a little brother to play with and to take care of. And he gave Dan and I another chance to put into practice all the things we learned from the other kids. Another chance to get it right. Baby Luke was a delight to us all. Never was there a little boy more loved and cared for, and cuddled and read to. He was always in someone’s arms. Sitting in church became a political problem …. he was three years old and everyone still wanted to hold him. I am amazed he ever learned to sit on his own, let alone walk on his own.
Why the story? Because at one point, before 1990 we thought we were finished having children. The doctors had strongly advised that my fourth caesarian should be my last, and after months of confusion, and praying for guidance about such an important decision, we decided at length to follow the doctor’s counsel and leave the details up to the Lord. We never had that conclusive feeling that our family was finished, but we knew with God all things are possible. We had good examples of adoption in our extended families. We had fostered briefly. We had provided a home for two years for the teenaged child of a friend. We knew there were numerous ways a child could join a family. It didn’t need to be traditional. We figured that if we were open and receptive, then one day, when the time was right, Heavenly Father would find a use for these parents who still had years to give. We trusted that one day – we might be surprised, and that if we would just be watchful, and receptive to the promptings, that we would respond appropriately when the time came, and the Lord might be able to work through us. It never occured to us that a child could come to us through the normal means after we had taken measures to ensure I didn’t get pregnant again. We didn’t think that was possible. Well, guess what? It is. With God – ALL things are possible. He knows us. He knows our hearts. He knows what is best for us. And He was patient with our decision five years before – knowing afterall, that He was in control. “You do the best you can until you know Better.” right?
My fear was that one day Luke might hear the word ‘surprise‘ from another source,and another perspective. All of our friends and family knew the miracle by which he came to us. I was afraid that at some point, he might overhear a portion of his story out of context, and he might deduce that ‘surprise’ meant something else. I wanted him to always know he was important, and loved and welcomed to our family with open arms and open hearts. I wanted to make sure that he never had a reason to doubt that, and I concluded that the only way I could ensure he never thought differently was if he heard it all from ME first. So from before the time he could talk, he heard his story. About how we didn’t know he was going to come to our family, but we were so happy when we found out. I told him in a way that I thought he could absorb. Funny how kids fit truth into their own reality. They sort it out in the way that they see the world. In the way that makes sense to them. I was okay with that. I knew that as he grew and his understanding developed, he would sort out the details. The only thing that was critically important was that he always feel loved.
Somewhere along the line, Luke grew up. And now he has two babies of his own. Very wanted and welcomed and loved babies that he shares with his lovely wife Pam, and with the rest of us. Cause that’s what families do. But he’s still my baby. And I still refer to him as my baby. And sometimes the grandchildren feel the need to object. “Uncle Luke isn’t a baby!” they say. I tell them “oh yes he is. Don’t ever fool yourselves. Uncle Luke will always be our baby. And you know what? He likes being the baby. Don’t you Uncle Luke?”
“Yup.” (that’s how he talks)
And the world continues to turn. And babies grow up. And mom’s get older too. But some things should never change.
I began my parental relationship with Santa Claus with slight trepidation. After introducing him to our four and five year old children I still worried (I was such a worrier) about whether we had done the right thing. The kids understood that Santa had a few rules to follow if he was to remain welcome in our home, and I tried to tread that ground carefully, balancing my idealism with allowing my children to enjoy the gift of magic and excitement that he had always brought to me as a child. I didn’t want to hold him hostage, but . . . . . .
Santa sitting in Charlie’s rocking chair
Oh how I wish that I could have had the slightest glimpse into the future – just enough to know that all would be well so that I could have relaxed a bit.
As time went on, I witnessed Santa evolve into the central figure in our Christmas celebrations as we enjoyed sharing the holiday with grandparents and aunts and uncles who delighted in the few children in both our families. We were riding a wave that I felt powerless to control, and I wasn’t happy about it. The way Christmas had developed – not because we actively created it, but because we allowed it – left me unsatisfied and feeling that I was letting our children down. Santa had become all I said I’d never allow him to become. He became our Christmas. I knew I could ask him to leave. I had reserved that right after all, but now there were so many others to consider. The overwhelming reality however, was that we were still the parents, and it was our responsibility to follow our hearts and reclaim the way we celebrated Christmas.
I tossed it around for months, considering different angles, and discussing the few that seemed reasonable with Dan. Santa and Jesus didn’t have to be mutually exclusive and although we had tried to talk about the source of the tender spirit-of-giving that motivated Santa, it seemed that our kids were so busy being ‘children’ (huh), full of the childhood wonder of Santa Claus with all his trappings, that I feared I had missed something really important. I sensed that time was ticking, and their memories were becoming more firm and important. It was clear that if were were to reclaim the way we chose to celebrate Christmas, we needed to create meaningful Christ-centered traditions. We were approaching Christmas 1986. We had four children, our youngest was just a year old.
In the end, we hit on a plan. We agreed to give Christmas Day to Santa Clause, but we reserved Christmas Eve for the Saviour. I wanted Christmas EVE to BE about Him. We wanted to talk about him and imagine the night of his birth. I realize that many families re-enact the nativity, but that wasn’t ‘us‘. We needed something that worked for us.
We talked about what kind of dinner Mary and Joseph might have had during their travels and after they arrived in Bethlehem. Research resources were not what they are now, but it seemed reasonable that their meal was very simple, and humble.
There was likely cheese. And undoubtedly bread. Flat bread. Perhaps figs or dates if they were lucky. Or dried fish. More than likely they would have drank water from a well or fresh wine / which wouldn’t have been much more than grape juice. It was probable that during their stay in Bethlehem they may have acquired mutton from time to time . . . . After dark, their only light would have been from candles or small lamps. A picture began forming.
We envisioned, and then planned out our meal. It would be a simple one of white cheese with homemade flat bread, and grape juice. By candlelight. . . Preparing it was a family event. Making the bread. Cutting the cheese. Making the juice. Then we lit the candles and turned off the lights. Low light often reduces volume, and quiet discussion allows for tender feelings to be expressed. These are things we discovered while eating bread and cheese in the soft light of candles.
We have eaten bread and cheese by candlelight every Christmas Eve since 1986. There were years that were lean and cheese was expensive so there was less of it. In those years, we put homemade jam on the table. There were other years of plenty that saw fish and olives on the table. Other foods have been added from time to time. Figs. Dates. Pomegranates have become a personal favourite of mine. Oranges. More varieties of cheese. But always homemade flatbread. Always white cheese. Always purple grape juice. The grape juice has become our own, from our own purple grapes – saved for this meal.
It has become our most favourite Christmas tradition of all. One that we have maintained for over three decades. Half of my life. It is a delight to us to watch our children carry it on in their own homes with their children, and to hear that it remains their favourite tradition.
When does Santa get his time?
When the meal is over and cleaned up, and stories have been shared, and songs have been sung, . . . When guests have left, teeth have been brushed, . . . then we gather into the family room and Dan reads a favourite poem that we all know by heart but we listen to him anyway –
“Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse. The stockings were hung by the chimney with care In the hopes that St. Nickolaus soon would be there ….. “
I’ll admit it gets a little animated. And for families who normally don’t role-play, or do charades, kid after kid has always wanted a chance to portray the “plump, jolly old elf with a broad face and a little round belly, that shook, when he laughs like a bowlful of jelly.”
We owe a lot to Clement C. Moore – it is his description we rely on when we visualize Santa Claus. And he should know, because he spied him in his very own parlour all those years ago. I am grateful he took the time to write his experience down so that all of us might benefit.
I have come to love Santa Claus – and all he represents to me. I no longer quarrel with him. I am satisfied that he has done our family a great service in visiting us every Christmas Eve since that inaugural visit in 1982. We have felt his spirit as each of our children have discovered for themselves in their own time – who he really is, and what he really looks like, and WHAT HE DOES.
I think the tipping point for me in making that final decision all those years ago, was that I never felt the betrayal I’ve heard others speak of. Of course like others, I reached the age of doubting, but my mother always maintained that she believed. You could never get her to verbalize anything to the contrary. To this very day at over eighty years old, she still maintains that she believes in Santa Clause and always has. Because she always has, I always have, even though I wondered for a few years, whether I’d invite him into our lives as young parents.
One Christmas Eve when I was fourteen years old my older sister and I talked my mother into letting us help fill the stockings. Our Dad was working that night. We prevailed, and she allowed us into the inner sanctuary reserved for parents on Christmas Eve. The next morning I was shocked to wake up and still feel the magic. I confided to my mother that even though logically I understood, and for goodness sakes, had even filled the stockings, I couldn’t help it – I still “believed”! She never let me help again. Not even when I was seventeen years old and protested mightily. Not even after I was married. Until my own children hung their stockings, I was excluded from her private ritual. Although outwardly I rebelled, inwardly I always appreciated her refusal to give in. It kept the magic alive for me. And I have tried very hard to do the same for my kids.
In this house WE BELIEVE.
I’d love to hear how you incorporate your important family values into Christmas traditions. Please comment below.
…… that is a question every parent must come to terms with at some point early in their parenting. (part 1 of “to Santa or not to Santa”)
And its not a question to be taken lightly, because whatever you decide, it isn’t your right to wreck it for others’ who may choose a different path. For me, in our very first year of parenting it could be avoided. We had the only grandchildren on both sides, so the precedent hadn’t been established. We in fact, unintentionally – had the responsibility for establishing a precedent in both of our families. A place of considerable pressure for someone as young and idealistic as we were.
The dilemma I felt was that I wanted our children to love the Saviour and to recognize that Christmas was first and foremost about celebrating His birth, and to acknowledging the important part He played in our life. I felt that a celebration the magnitude of Christmas, could be justified just as well with or without Santa Claus. But on the other hand, I had many fond memories of Santa and didn’t want to deny my kids the wholesome magic that he brings with him. But still, Santa had overshadowed any feeling I might have had as a child for the Saviour. In fact in my early childhood, I had no knowledge of the birth of Jesus and its connection to Christmas. Nativities were not a part of our Christmas. Truth be told, I don’t believe they were a part of very many people’s Christmas in those days. I never saw one when I was a child, or a youth.
I successfully dodged that bullet for a few years, while our extended families, the grandparents and aunts and uncles stood a respectful distance away from Santa while allowing us the privilege of making that decision. Christmas of 1982 was the year I needed to jump off the fence and make a decision. Jacob was four and a half years old. Sarah was three and a half. They were going to have memories of this Christmas and it was time for me to make the choice: Was Santa going to be a part of our Christmas or not? The problem was, that I didn’t have a crystal ball and couldn’t tell how inviting Santa into our lives would impact our family long term. Dan wanted Santa. Our folks all wanted Santa. All our kids’ aunts and uncles wanted Santa. . . . . And there were other issues to consider. Like how to introduce him at this point?
Finally, I hit upon a plan. I discussed it with Dan and we had an important family council with our kids. It was time. We told them about the old man who lived at the north pole, who loved children. His delight in life we told them was to make children happy, and because of that, he spent his whole year building toys for them which he gave to them once a year on Christmas Eve. We held nothing back. We laid out for them the whole picture. The red suit and beard, the sleigh and reindeer, the elves, the list, …. everything. They were spell bound, wide eyed and enthralled. We told them that there was only one thing Santa loved more than children. He loved Jesus Christ. And he celebrated the birth of Jesus Christ by giving gifts and spreading good cheer because it made him so happy to do so, BUT his one fear and worry, was that children would get so excited about him and the presents, that they would forget about the “reason for the season” – the celebration of the birth of our Saviour.
His commitment was that if that happened in any house he normally visited, he would simply stop coming to that house. As long as the children remembered Jesus, and were grateful for Santa’s gifts then he would come every year for their whole lives. But if the children got too caught up in Santa and thought that Christmas was all about him and not about Jesus, he would stop coming to them. Of course, he might depend on us as parents to let him know how that was going. We told our kids that Dad and I thought they were big enough for us to invite Santa for Christmas – if of course, they wanted him to come. You won’t be surprised to know that they very much wanted him to come! And they promised that they would always remember the reason we celebrated Christmas, which was also the reason Santa did all his wonderful stuff.
The Spirit of Christmas by Greg Olson
That was it then. We officially invited Santa Claus into our Christmas the year of 1982. We were expecting our third child the next spring. It was time we moved on. I had some trepidation, but I was determined to monitor our Santa-meter and keep our Christmases in balance.
As it would happen, Santa Claus happened to be visiting our local shopping mall that Saturday and I asked the kids if they’d like to go see him. They had never seen him – or any likenesses of him, before then. It is wonderful, the control a parent has over the influence the world has on a four year old. Don’t we all wish we could protect them for a life time with the same care and attention we could when they were toddlers? We controlled what they saw on television, what they read and what they saw of the world. And until we were ready, I prevented any exposure they had to Santa Claus. We made preparations to go the very next day to see him.
As we stood in a long line of excited children, (another new experience for Jacob and Sarah, as I normally avoided crowds and malls) – I noted that Santa was asking kids what they wanted for Christmas. Yikes. I forgot about that important detail. Our kids did not know they could make gift requests. I coached them “Santa Claus may ask you what you want for Christmas. If he does, Jacob why don’t you tell him you’d like a covered wagon made out of wood with horses?” “Okay!” he readily agreed. “Sarah, how bout you ask him for a princess dress?” “Okay!” she joined. Whew. That wasn’t so hard. We got closer and Jacob and Sarah were very observant of all that was going on around them. I too watched the minutes unfold – this truly was a departure point for our little family, at least where the kind old man of Christmas was concerned. My kids were getting big enough that it was time for me to let some of the world into their lives – while I could still control the circumstances.
Finally, we were at the front of the line. Santa invited them to come near to him. I accompanied. He asked them if they had been good children. They assured him they had. As predicted, he asked them what they would like for Christmas. Jacob announced that he would like a toy covered wagon drawn by horses. Sarah told him she would like a princess dress (which bytheway, in 1982 was not the Disney princess dresses we’re so familiar with nowadays). Santa nodded and made mental note, then asked “What else would you like?” Oops. I hadn’t anticipated that one. “We don’t know.” Jacob confided “Our mom didn’t tell us that one yet.” Whew. Quick thinking Son. We said our good byes and received candy canes for our visit. Dad happily waited on the other side to hear about our experience.
It was a happy day for him and the kids. A bit traumatic for me, but happy nonetheless. Our family was growing up. And we had just taken a big step into a new world that could never be reversed. A tangible innocence was traded in that day, for another circumstance – another innocence that would carry us for several more years until our children were ready to make another transition: a coming-of-age discovery that Santa Claus would play a big part in. In fact, he was here to stay the rest of their lives – in one form or another.
(this is part 1 of our Santa story) I’d love to hear about how you made that important choice of inviting (or not inviting) Santa into your family’s lives.
