Essay

The empty nest

/ Patsy Kuipers / 1 Comment

I’m a frequent visitor at my daughter’s house. Mary has her hands full taking care of three little people under the age of five and I enjoy helping out even though I’m now sorely outnumbered!

Several weeks ago I became aware of a “whoosh” whenever I’d step out the front door and onto their small porch. I soon realized I was being strafed by a mamma bird who’d built her nest in an eave of the portico. She picked a perfect place. Not only were she and her carefully constructed home sheltered from the elements and out of reach of any predators that might happen by, but we could observe from inside the house without disturbing her. My son-in-law peaked into the nest when mamma bird was away and found five tiny eggs. We watched as she faithfully warmed and protected the eggs. And one day we saw five little heads, with open mouths clamoring to be fed. Mamma bird diligently cared for her brood. The little ones grew quickly . . . and then one day I went over . . . and the porch was quiet . . . and they were gone.

Even though we human mothers are given years to nurture our children, time passes so quickly it sometimes seems it’s only days, like the time it took the mother bird to raise her young. Over the years I’ve shared this bittersweet sentiment with other mothers: “If we do our job well, the end result is an independent adult.” Mothering requires a balance of holding on and letting go and the wisdom to know which is needed at any particular time in our children’s lives. It’s a difficult but necessary process.

Yet my own dear mother has often said, “Once a mother, always a mother”, a statement every bit as true as the one I wrote above. I’m convinced the mama bear syndrome knows no age limits. IMG_1073After all, of the many people who were upset when my 30-year career ended via termination, my mom was the most incensed by the treatment I’d received. Even now, at age 84, I have no doubt she’d be my staunchest defender – all 98 pounds of her. And don’t even think about messing with my kids and grandkids!

It’s that time of year – the time of graduations and weddings. So for you mothers reading this and contemplating the emptying of your nests, I offer this: one day you may realize the independent adult you worked so long and hard to raise has become one of your very best friends. Someone who brings joy to your life in new ways as you continue to cheer them on and are blessed by the fruits of your labors, and theirs.

I can still remember driving home after Mary and Justin’s wedding. I thought, “That’s it. I gave her away. It’s all over.” I was so wrong. I gained a son that night and now seven years later, there are those three little people I mentioned at the onset of this post. Mary and Justin’s nest is full and I am welcome there. Welcome to help nurture a new generation and introduce them to plants and mamma birds and to their Savior – the One who loves them even more than I do.

 

A different kind of grief

/ Patsy Kuipers / 2 Comments

“19 years on the 19th”. That phrase has been echoing in my mind for the past several weeks as yet another anniversary of my husband’s sudden death approached. Shortly after lunch 19 years ago today I told Ray goodbye for the last time . . .

In 1997 the 19th fell on a Saturday. It was a beautiful, warm day, much like today. Life was proceeding normally – Ray left for his job at The Home Depot, I and my young daughters (ages 10 and 7 at the time) went shopping for summer attire. Mary, Jessie and I returned home around 7pm. We weren’t in the house 10 minutes when the phone rang. Chris, a patient care specialist from Kennestone Hospital was calling to tell me Ray had been brought to the emergency room from work and I needed to get there as soon as possible. No other details. It wasn’t until we were in a private room at the hospital that I got the devastating, life-changing news.

After a few questions about Ray’s health, Chris said a doctor would be in to talk to me. I pleaded, “Can’t you at least tell me if he’s alive?” For a moment she just looked at me. I asked more urgently, “Is he alive?” And then came the awful reply, “No, honey, he isn’t.” That scene, her words and the gasp of disbelief that simultaneously escaped me and my little girls will be forever etched in my mind.

But oh how God has comforted, upheld and sustained us across all the years since that fateful night. Over and over again He’s proved himself as a protector of this widow and a Father to my fatherless girls. [1]

Our pastor recently began a sermon series on Philippians. The past two weeks he’s reminded us that Biblically-based joy is not dependent on circumstances. It’s grounded in the assurances of God regarding the past, present and future found in His Word. Our faith won’t exempt us from hardship. Believers will face trials and troubles of various kinds. Jesus told us as much, but He didn’t stop there. He encouraged us to take heart because He’s overcome the world. [2]

We know the end of the story. Even now He’s preparing a place for us.[3] So we grieve, but not as those who have no hope. [4] There will be times when we’re hurt and disappointed, times when we may cry out, “Why, Lord?”, but we won’t be alone for He’s promised to never leave us.[5] In our humanity we’ll experience a full range of emotions associated with the events of our lives – Jesus, fully man, wept over Lazarus’ death even though being fully God, He knew He’d raise him – yet the Truth will allow us to not be controlled by our feelings.

Soon after hearing Chris’s answer, it was as if a giant door slammed shut in my mind. Looking back, I realize I couldn’t have taken in the enormity of it all at one time without crumbling. Instead, the Lord provided a protective, albeit primarily subconscious, bubble of denial and disbelief. It allowed the reality of Ray’s death to drip into my soul bit by bit over weeks and months as I was ready to accept it. In the days immediately after, I was in a state of shock, yet the Lord enabled me to make difficult decisions regarding the visitation, service and Ray’s final resting place. Most amazing, He gave me the strength to speak for a few minutes at the end of his funeral. I’ll close this post with the sentiments I expressed when concluding my remarks that day.

None of us knows when the last goodbye will be said. Keep current in your relationships. Tell your family you love them. Thank your friends. Hug people who are dear to you. Let them know you care. And let us leave today rejoicing because we know Ray is in the presence of God. I believe he’s planting flowers right now and I look forward to joining him in God’s garden one day.

055

 

[1] Psalm 68:5

[2] John 16:33

[3] John 14:2-3

[4] 1 Thessalonians 4:13

[5] Deuteronomy 31:6, 8

Even the rocks

/ Patsy Kuipers / Leave a comment

Extra responsibilities, mostly of the family variety, have kept me from writing for a while. But they haven’t prevented me from enjoying the beauty of springtime. Indeed every walk I’ve taken, each glance out a window, all the driving back and forth have given me the opportunity to revel in the splendor of the season. Wave after wave of reawakening – cheerful yellow daffodils and forsythia followed by cherry blossoms and early-blooming magnolias, now giving way to azaleas and dogwoods. From the tiniest woodland specimens to the showiest ornamentals, all are praising their Creator and reflecting His glory.

When the Pharisees, jealous of Jesus’ popularity, told him to rebuke his disciples because of their exuberant welcome on what we now celebrate as Palm Sunday, He answered, “I tell you, if these were silent, the very stones would cry out.” Let us not be silent. Let us join the happy chorus ringing out around us, as we add our own verses of joyful thanksgiving to our Savior, Lord and King . . . not only on Resurrection Sunday but every day.

May the following photos underscore my hymn of praise this glorious Easter day.

Thrashing about, epilogue

/ Patsy Kuipers / 2 Comments

Often my blog posts are a result of me needing to remind myself of Truth and then deciding to share it with you, my readers, in hopes it will be an encouragement to you as well. Little did I know when I wrote “Thrashing about” (January 18th) how many times I’d need to tell myself to “stop thrashing” in the weeks that followed.

A new little family member was scheduled to arrive exactly one month after I published that piece and I had things to do and people to see in the interim. Observing my behavior during that month, those closest to me probably wondered what the uproar was about. After all, I must have said “I’ve got to (fill in the blank) because Emma’s coming” dozens of times, like she was a hurricane barreling across the Atlantic and I was battening down the hatches before her arrival. I crossed most of my pre-Emma to dos off before the big day. But the battle against thrashing was far from over.

I took up residence at daughter Mary’s house on the evening of February 17th, knowing I’d be the around-the-clock responsible adult until she and Justin returned with Emma several days later. No big deal, right? I stay with 4 ½-year-old Joshua and 2-year-old Lyla on a regular basis, usually two days a week, eight to ten hours a day. But I go home at night, home where it’s quiet and I can recharge. Being on duty for 60+ hours straight – well, that’s a different story. I wasn’t sleeping or eating normally, much less having a meaningful quiet time. My focus was almost entirely on the immediate demands in front of me. I gradually lost sight of my Center and by the time daughter Jessie arrived Saturday morning to provide back-up, I was so tired physically and mentally I could barely stay on task.

But mid-day Saturday Mary and Justin returned home with baby Emma in tow. As I held her, I marveled at the fact there’s a brand new person to love and get to know. The stress of the previous three days was so worth it – my miniscule contribution to the process of her entrance into the world. After a few more hours, I went home, admittedly looking forward to quiet surroundings and to sleeping in my bed instead of on an air mattress . . .

. . . hmm, the water never got past lukewarm when I was taking my shower. Sure enough, a trek to the basement revealed the hot water heater was leaking. I put a bucket under the drip and spent a restless night praying I wouldn’t find a flood the next morning. I passed Sunday afternoon trying to drain the tank with a garden hose. It drained alright – for five straight hours! Any remaining shred of patience and good humor quickly dissipated when I realized I’d have to turn off the main water supply and spend the night at my parents’ house. I’m sad to say I met their warm welcome with, “I didn’t need this to deal with. I’m too tired. I just wanted to be at home and regroup for a couple of days.” Whine, whine, whine. I imagine I sounded a lot like Jonah when the worm devoured the plant God had provided to shade him from the blazing sun.

I must admit I don’t like myself much when I lose sight of Truth and let circumstances get the best of me. I knew it was time to resort to some major self-exhortation, reminding myself of a hard-learned lesson . . . 

My husband Ray was very even-tempered. For the most part he took things in stride, remaining calm when I’d be all bent out of shape about something. One such time when I was complaining to him about some long-since-forgotten “tragedy”, I had the audacity to ask him, “Does anything short of death upset you?” His reply: “Not much.” Though many years have passed since our conversation, it still saddens me to write those lines. Just a few months after that exchange, I’d learn Ray was oh so right. One of the difficult lessons God taught me in the aftermath of his death and one I never want to forget: there really isn’t much short of death worth getting upset about. Situations that are fixable, even though they may be annoying and require you to spend time and money you’d rather spend elsewhere don’t merit significant hand-wringing, worry or angst. But no matter what we’re facing, be it life-changing or trivial, God has promised to never leave us or forsake us.

I’m blessed my parents live close by. My hot water heater’s been replaced and I slept in my own bed last night. There’s a new baby girl to love, a precious gift from God. The One who tenderly holds me in the palm of his hand knows every detail and will provide for every need. No thrashing required.

IMG_0552

Joshua and Lyla watching over baby Emma

 

Putting on a show

/ Patsy Kuipers / 6 Comments

Last year I decided to get a bird feeder after many years of not having one. I hung it and the suet basket that followed some months later on shepherd’s hooks attached to my deck. I placed them strategically so I can watch for birds when I’m seated at the kitchen table as well as when I gaze out the window over my sink. Many times I’ve been entertained by the antics of my feathered friends. This morning was one such time. As I washed dishes, approximately two dozen birds, including a cardinal, numerous sparrows and goldfinches, a woodpecker and several bluebirds, descended on my deck. I delighted in watching them as they flitted from tree branches to feeder to deck railing to suet, back and forth, taking turns – sometimes patiently, sometimes insistently. I smiled, realizing the Lord was treating me to a show while I worked.

After lunch, I took a break from inside chores and went for a walk through my neighborhood. To some a stroll on an overcast, chilly afternoon might seem unappealing, yet once again I felt God’s goodness surrounding me. The breeze tousled my hair and caused last year’s fallen leaves to scamper across yards. Shafts of sunlight broke through the leaden clouds as patches of brilliant blue dotted the otherwise gray canopy.

Even though the mid-winter landscape may appear barren and lifeless, it’s anything but. I ambled around my property when I got home, expecting to find promising signs of things to come. I wasn’t disappointed.  My witch hazel is covered with dozens of burnt-orange, strap-like flowers; buds and blossoms abound on my Lenten roses Helleborus orientalis (Lenten Rose)which have joyfully spilled out of their beds and into the woods; crocuses are up and blooming, having faithfully reappeared every winter since I planted them over 15 years ago; foliage of species tulips, scilla and camassia, is poking up through leaves and mulch, assuring me the squirrels and chipmunks left at least some of the bulbs I tucked into the soil last November.

Before we know it, the splendor of springtime will be upon us. As creation boisterously sings hallelujahs to the King through a profusion of flowers and new life it will become virtually impossible to miss his glorious gifts. But whether his “I love you” is whispered or shouted, it’s always evident.

For those who have eyes to see and ears to hear, the One who came that we might have life and have it abundantly is constantly putting on a show, wooing us to Himself.

Don’t tempt me

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I wrote my weekend to do list yesterday. I had a good plan, a solid plan, and was hoping to cross off a number of those indoor chores today. But when I woke up this morning I was greeted by radiant sunshine and a brilliant blue sky. IMG_0420I checked the forecast. Yes! Afternoon temps in the 60’s; one of those warm mid-winter days we can look forward to in the South. Instead of being a facilitator to help accomplish my goals for the day, my to do list suddenly became an obstacle to fulfilling my craving to spend time outside – a desire which sprang up as soon as I realized what a beautiful day it was going to be.

I had an internal debate with myself as I prepared breakfast. Should I stick with my original plan, suck it up and get my work done or permit myself to go outside and indulge in one of my favorite activities? Decisions, decisions. Knowing how much I enjoy working in my yard, a friend suggested I postpone my chores and spend at least a few moments outside. Furthermore, he pointed out the extended forecast is calling for clouds tomorrow and rain by Monday. Perfect! Just what I needed – someone to support me in going with Plan B. When I got dressed for the day, I went ahead and put on a pair of old jeans I reserve for working outside . . . just in case I decided to enjoy those few moments. Shortly after noon, I went to get the mail. That did it. Any sliver of resolve I might have been holding onto regarding sticking to my original plan for the day quickly dissolved as I felt the warmth of the sun.

I ate lunch, happily anticipating the outdoor moments I was going to allow myself. Those moments turned into over 2 ½ hours. I could make a persuasive argument that I and my garden benefitted greatly from the time I spent outside. After all, I consider gardening to be one of the best forms of therapy and cool season annual weeds had almost taken over the front bed, encouraged into proliferation by our abnormally warm pre-Christmas weather. But as I knelt pulling up handfuls of chickweed, I couldn’t help but think how easy it is to convince ourselves to give into our desires.

. . . Even when we know what’s required of us and the stakes are much higher than not getting our chores done . . . Even when we believe the One who’s established the boundaries and shown us the way only wants what’s best for us . . .

Isn’t that what happened in the first Garden? And nothing’s ever been the same.

Thrashing about

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I suppose I should preface this post by saying I don’t consider myself to be particularly punny – that’s the province of my daughter, Jessie, who inherited her dad’s sense of humor – but this title, well, I couldn’t resist . . .

Since the weather’s been more seasonably cold, I’ve added suet to the feast I set out for my bird friends. IMG_0377 (2)Brown thrashers are among those who want to partake of the high-calorie goodness. To say they have trouble steadying themselves on the suet basket would be a significant understatement. Inevitably, when one lands on the suet, it starts to wobble. This in turn causes the bird to flap frantically which results in the basket spinning around, bringing about another flurry of desperate flapping. It’s a rather comical sight, but also somewhat sad because the thrasher’s behavior keeps him from the nourishment he’s seeking .

Compare this to the behavior of the stately woodpecker who frequents the suet. Every bit as big as the thrasher, he has no trouble positioning himself on the basket and consuming the nutritious treat. Even if the suet shifts slightly, even if he has to hang from the bottom of the basket when the suet’s almost gone, there’s no anxious flapping of wings or shifting about. The woodpecker remains calm, focused on the sustenance before him.

Just as I recognize I’m not exceptionally adept with puns, I’ll also readily admit I don’t know very much about birds. No doubt a knowledgeable ornithologist could explain the behavior I’ve described. But, as often happens when I’m working in my beloved sphere of horticulture, I see a spiritual analogy. The birds’ behavior reminds me of Peter’s attempt to walk on water, recounted in Matthew 14:25-31:

25 Shortly before dawn Jesus went out to them, walking on the lake. 26 When the disciples saw him walking on the lake, they were terrified. “It’s a ghost,” they said, and cried out in fear. 27 But Jesus immediately said to them: “Take courage! It is I. Don’t be afraid.” 28 “Lord, if it’s you,” Peter replied, “tell me to come to you on the water.” 29 “Come,” he said. Then Peter got down out of the boat, walked on the water and came toward Jesus. 30 But when he saw the wind, he was afraid and, beginning to sink, cried out, “Lord, save me!” 31 Immediately Jesus reached out his hand and caught him. “You of little faith,” he said, “why did you doubt?” (NIV Bible, emphasis mine)

As long as Peter kept his gaze firmly fixed on Jesus he was able to walk on the water. But when he shifted his focus to the storm, he was quickly overwhelmed by his situation.

Too often, when I’m confronted with changing circumstances or buffeted by winds of uncertainty, I become flustered. Like the thrasher, I begin to flail about, thwarting any possibility of finding the stability I seek. And before I know it, I’ve lost sight of the One who is my sure foundation. The One who never changes. The One who still speaks to his followers, saying, “Take courage! It is I. Don’t be afraid.”

As I reflect on the disparate behavior of the woodpecker and the thrasher, may I be reminded to rest in the promises of the One who calms the storms.

 

 

 

 

Clutter

/ Patsy Kuipers / 7 Comments

There’s something about starting a new year that makes me want to clean out and move forward with a lighter load. This year, my desire has been further fueled by the efforts my daughter Mary has made to shed stuff and redecorate her lovely home. It may be her nesting instincts spurring her on or the urgency of needing to help 2-year old Lyla settle into her “big-girl” room before baby Emma arrives. Regardless, seeing what she’s achieved while 7-months pregnant has both inspired me and put me to shame.

I’m a keeper by nature. I find it difficult to part with things that may be useful at some point in the future or were given to me by loved ones. Ok, so that covers a lot of territory. It also explains, for example, why you’ll find lots of buttons in the bottom of my sewing basket – you know the ones that come on shirts, jackets, pants, etc. in case one of the originals ever falls off – and the fact I have every birthday card my girls have ever given me. In spite of my tendency to hold onto things, I don’t consider myself to be a hoarder. After all, there’s plenty of room to walk around in my house without bumping into stacks of old magazines and I’m able to use my garage for its intended purpose.

Nevertheless, every now and then the results of my being a keeper start to wear on me, especially when I get to experience the positive effects of someone else’s house cleaning efforts.

Our living environments aren’t the only thing that can become cluttered, as many of us feel weighed down, even overwhelmed, by to dos associated with the demands of daily living. Joanna Weaver addresses our plight in her book, “Having a Mary Heart in a Martha World”. IMG_0367The story of the two sisters, recorded in Luke 10:38-42, resonates with modern readers even though the events it relates happened almost 2,000 years ago:

As Jesus and his disciples were on their way, he came to a village where a woman named Martha opened her home to him. She had a sister called Mary, who sat at the Lord’s feet listening to what he said. But Martha was distracted by all the preparations that had to be made. She came to him and asked, “Lord, don’t you care that my sister has left me to do the work by myself? Tell her to help me!” “Martha, Martha,” the Lord answered, “you are worried and upset about many things, but few things are needed—or indeed only one. Mary has chosen what is better, and it will not be taken away from her.” (NIV Bible)

A cursory read might lead one to conclude Jesus was condemning Martha’s Type A personality and it’s tempting to stereotype the two sisters, labeling one driven and the other laid back. But our temperaments and abilities are God-given and it takes all kinds of people to accomplish his purposes. No, Jesus wasn’t chiding Martha for her work ethic. He wanted her to realize her focus was off, a message quite similar to the one in Matthew 6 when Jesus told his listeners not to worry about what they would eat, drink or wear, but to seek first his kingdom and his righteousness.

Of everyone who’s ever walked the earth, Jesus alone was capable of “doing it all”, but he didn’t. Instead, he sought to do his Father’s will in all things and to finish the work he’d been sent to do. In Ephesians 2, Paul says believers are God’s handiwork, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do. Isn’t that amazing? Even though God could accomplish everything himself, he allows us to participate in achieving his purposes and equips and enables us to do so.

Too often my mind is cluttered with the demands of the day and my thoughts race from one task to another wondering how I’ll ever get it all done. But more and more, God is reminding me to focus before doing. To seek him and his righteousness. To be still so I can hear him when he says, “This is the way. Walk in it.”

And when I do, He’s faithful to help me determine what is the better part.

Ask

/ Patsy Kuipers / 2 Comments

When I came downstairs this morning, there was a squirrel wrapped around the bird feeder, trying to figure out how to get to the precious sunflower seeds within. The spring-loaded feeder was doing a good job of protecting its contents, the weight of the squirrel having caused its outer sleeve to drop and close the openings. I raised the window over the kitchen sink and shooed him away, but the sleeve didn’t pop back up. Closer inspection revealed the squirrel’s determined efforts had unhooked one of the springs. I was NOT happy since this had happened once before and I remembered all-too-well how difficult it had been to reattach since the outer sleeve covered the hole where the hook resided when the spring was attached. Furthermore, I knew my feathered friends would soon be arriving for breakfast and I didn’t want them to be disappointed to find their source of food unavailable.

I brought the feeder inside and began to work, discouraged that my initial efforts to reattach the spring proved unsuccessful. As I tugged and fumbled with the hook, I prayed, “Please, Lord, help me fix this! It’s so hard. The birds count on me to feed them. I don’t want them to go hungry.” And then I saw the obvious solution which I’d completely overlooked when the spring was unhooked months ago and again this morning: the hook at the other end of the spring was exposed. All I had to do was unhook it, reattach the one at the end that was covered when the outer sleeve was raised and then reattach the hook at the lower end! Within minutes I’d refilled the once-again-fully-functioning feeder, returned it to its hanger on the deck and watched happily as the birds came for their morning meal.

As I turned to making my own breakfast it hit me: Too many times when faced with a challenge or a problem to solve I launch into self-initiated, self-sustained efforts that often prove frustrating and futile. Yet I have a Father who’s told me to ask when I lack wisdom, when I don’t know which way to go or what the best course of action is. He’s shown me time and again that his promise to instruct me and teach me, to counsel and watch over me is trustworthy.

More and more, may we begin by coming to the One who tells us to ask . . . taking time to be still before Him instead of heading off on our own . . .  confident in the assurance that He always hears us and will lead us in the way everlasting.

Give life, remix

/ Patsy Kuipers / 1 Comment

For over 20 years I’ve been blessed to know Susan Hunt, author, speaker, friend. I’ve benefited from her Bible studies, her writing, her wisdom and her gentle yet firm guidance when it comes to truth and the need to obey God. She is and has been a spiritual mother to me and countless other women.

Of the many Biblical doctrines I’ve learned from Susan, one that resonates most deeply for me is that of being a life-giver instead of a life-taker. Moment by moment, as we go about our daily activities, interacting with others, we have opportunities to give or take life, to build up or tear down, to encourage or criticize.

This precept has become one of my guiding principles.

On an early November day two years ago, I was on the receiving end of life-taking and life-giving actions. The events I’m about to describe occurred one after the other, providing a vivid contrast between the two . . .

When I arrived at a local place of interest for a tour I’d signed up for, I approached the organizer of the event. Instead of greeting me, she turned away. Any benefit of the doubt I tried to grant her regarding the possibility she hadn’t seen me or was having a bad day was quickly erased when she cheerfully welcomed another attendee. Indeed, she spent the next almost-two hours happily interacting with others in attendance without speaking to me or acknowledging my presence in any way. Although I conversed with other participants, the icy treatment I received was difficult to endure. If I hadn’t been concerned about offending the person leading the tour, I would have disappeared somewhere along the way. In many ways I already felt invisible.

I made my way back home in tears, depleted physically as well as emotionally. As I drove into my cul-de-sac, I realized there was a car in my driveway, my daughter’s car. My gaze shifted to the front door where she and my then-two-year-old grandson stood. In an instant, I knew God had sent me a much-needed gift. As I got out of the car Joshua trotted toward me enthusiastically, clutching a bag of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies he and Mary had made. The sticky note on the bag said, “Hi, Grammie! We love you!” I felt life flowing from these two dear ones, warming my heart that had been so badly bruised by the unkindness of the morning. By the time we shared a picnic and I watched Joshua frolic on the playground in my neighborhood, my well-being had been restored. (I would be remiss not to mention my house was Mary and Joshua’s second stop. Their first? A life-giving cookie delivery to a long-time family friend who’d lost his wife to cancer a couple of weeks earlier.)

Admittedly, these actions may seem relatively small in the overall scheme of life – dismissive behavior and a cookie delivery – but isn’t that the point?  As I write about them two years later, both still have the power to bring tears to my eyes albeit for very different reasons. I can feel the pain inflicted by life-taking silence; the healing wrought by life-giving inclusion.

Jesus himself essentially instructed us to be life-givers when He said, “Do unto others as you would have others do unto you.”  Likewise, He refers to the command to love your neighbor as yourself as second only to the command to love God with all our heart, soul, mind and strength. Mighty affirmations of our calling to be life-givers; important reminders of the profound impact our words and actions can have on others . . . for good and for harm.

As we enter this Advent season, when to do lists are long and patience is short, when distractions abound and expectations are high, let us make an extra effort to be life-givers in our homes and our communities. In so doing we’ll honor the One who came that we might have life and have it abundantly.