RRN Online Volume 446

December 18 '04

Volume 446

Felicia’s Lament I'm Family Too

Competition Starts Early She’s really my niece, but when I start counting family members, Felicia likes to be numbered as a daughter. I don’t encourage her in this regard, because she has a dad, already, and I think it’s important for children to honor their biological parents, even those who’ve never done anything to merit their children’s honor.

In the years since Felicia’s parents divorced, I suppose I’ve assumed a degree of parenting, mainly in exerting influence or inserting a male’s opinion into what is all too often a conflict between a mother and a daughter. In the absence of either parent, children of divorced parents are often disadvantaged in that the delicate balance of decision-making is suddenly shifted to one individual instead of being shared by two.

For the past two years, I’ve written a Christmas Newsletter and each year I’ve been chastened for an oversight. Never mind the fact that the newsletter was from "The Carters of Dogwood Circle," which I felt should logically include something newsworthy regarding each of the three of us living in Dogwood Circle, Barbara, Jason and Wayne. Last year, Rayanne felt slighted, as there was no mention of her or her family. This year, it was Felicia’s turn to feel left out.

"I got all sad," Felicia pouted, "when I read your Christmas Newsletter. You didn’t say anything about me. I think being Miss Pontotoc and getting a new car is as good as Rayanne’s three jobs."

"What can I say, Felicia?" I responded. "Maybe next year, I can give you a whole paragraph."

If Felicia and Rayanne were really sisters, one could attribute Felicia’s apparent jealousy to sibling rivalry, but of course they’re not sisters. Instead, to make any sense of the situation, one would have to understand the rivalry between Felicia and her brother Brett, whom Felicia has always seen as her chief competitor for her mother’s affection. And, to understand how Felicia and Brett view the other as each other’s principal competition, one would have to know their mother’s childhood history that involves the rivalry between Sarah and James and Sarah’s belief that "Mama loved James best."

Brett and Felicia grew up hearing their mother’s chant-like lament, and at some point in time grew to believe their mother loved one of them more than the other. Yes, they’re scarred for life, and they’ll never recover from their childhood views and will likely go to their respective graves embittered over something "Mama" did or didn’t do for one that she did for the other.

It’s a hard puzzle to piece together, but here’s the way I fit it together. Brett’s married and living far enough from Pontotoc to no longer poise a competitive, daily threat for Mama’s attention. Thus, Felicia has her mother all to herself (most of the time). Felicia is a part of my family and chooses to define her status as being equivalent to Rayanne. However, Rayanne lives in Belmont and is not in Pontotoc much more than Felicia, therefore reinforcing Felicia’s perception of a void that needs filling. And, of course, who better to fill the vacant, daughter-at-home slot than Felicia.

Those who prefer the simplicity of traditional Christmas Cards sometimes view Christmas newsletters with disdain. Yet, many traditionalists enjoy a personal greeting penned by the sender. I enjoy every greeting from the simplest holiday wish to the ornate ones embellished further with a personal note, and I also enjoy receiving Christmas newsletters. Having sent a couple of the latter, I can appreciate the challenge of condensing a year’s worth of news into a few paragraphs on a single page. To keep my family members happy, I may have to go to two pages next year, in order that I don’t leave anyone out.

Piggy Christmas By Terry Maxey

When Judy and I married it was expected of us to spend Christmas Eve and Christmas Day with her dad and mother, Mr. Mose and Mrs. Daisy Johnston. You see, Judy was the baby of the family, and babies always spend Christmas with Dad and Mother.

When Tracy & Stacy were 1 or 2 years of age (my memory fails me as to the exact year) we were at Mose and Daisy's house in Okolona, Mississippi for Christmas. Through Santa, we had gotten the twins the normal Christmas items (toys, clothes, candy, etc). Mr. Mose had bought each of them a wind-up pig, which cost the large sum of $.67 each.

On Christmas Day we all got up excited about the joy we would have, especially the twins. After tearing paper from gifts, looking at some expensive toys and eating some candy, they each discovered the wind-up pigs. For at least two hours before breakfast all they did was wind-up the pigs and watch them hop around. After breakfast we tried to encourage them to play with other toys, try on clothes, etc. but no, no, no, no, they wanted the wind-up pigs.

Those pigs stayed with them for several years and they enjoyed them but as boys grow their interest turns to other things. As pigs grow they usually turn to bacon. I'm not sure where the pigs are today, discarded and thrown away I'm sure, but that was an enjoyable Christmas, a Christmas where I learned that happiness in a child’s eyes can be a simple wind-up pig.

Trampoline Christmas By Wayne Carter

I don’t recall the year, but I well remember the Christmas that Rayanne and Jason got a trampoline. That it was a secondhand trampoline didn’t bother either of them. In fact they had played most of the summer on it.

Just a block down from our house on Eighth Street lived the Hayes family. Barbara and I were friends with Omri and Linda and our two children often played with Linda’s two girls by a previous marriage. The girls had a large trampoline, and it seemed Rayanne and Jason were on it more often than they were.

Noting my children’s interest in the trampoline, I asked Linda where they had bought theirs.

In answering my question she offered, "Why don’t you just buy ours? After all, your children are on it more than mine."

Linda suggested a fair price that included the almost new pad that encircled the outer rim of the trampoline, and, after discussing the deal with Barbara, we bought the trampoline as a Christmas gift for Rayanne and Jason. Determining how to surprise our children with the trampoline on Christmas morning proved difficult.

I suggested a plan to move the trampoline into our backyard after our children were in bed on Christmas Eve. To actually move the trampoline, I enlisted the help of my younger brother James, who owned a large pickup truck, and his friend Wendell Morrison. Late on Christmas Eve, after Rayanne and Jason were snuggled in bed, the three of us loaded the heavy trampoline onto the back of James’ truck. It was too large to fit inside the bed of the truck, so we rested as much of the trampoline as possible on the sides of the bed of the pickup with its legs overlapping the bed by four feet or more on each side. Wendell and I, walking alongside the pickup, helped balance the trampoline as James drove slowly toward my house.

About halfway there, James stopped the truck and asked, "How are we gonna get it in the backyard? This thing’s too wide to go between your house and the fence."

I didn’t have a fence, but I had neighbors on three sides of me who did, and our yard was "fenced in" by my neighbor’s fences.

As we stopped to strategize, the cold wind chilled us thoroughly. I wasn’t sure it would work, but I had an idea.

"Why don’t we take it up Robbie’s driveway and set it over the fence?" I asked.

Though eyes rolled, one of my helpers asked, "Can we get it through the gate?"

I didn’t know, but I thought we could. Fortunately, there was enough room, but the trampoline kept trying to slide off the pickup as we went up the slope of the driveway. Wendell and I were pretty well spent by the time we got the trampoline off the truck.

Still twenty yards away from the fence, I suggested, "Let’s try rolling it."

However, the strong wind and the unwieldiness of the now sideways trampoline quickly changed our minds, and we sat it upright and walked it and partly drug it toward the fence adjacent to my backyard. After lifting one set of the trampoline’s legs over the fence, one of us scaled the fence and prepared to help as we all strained to get the rest of the trampoline across.

I worried that our talking and grunting, not to mention the clanking of metal on metal in trying to get the trampoline over the fence, might possibly awaken my sleeping children. Perhaps, the wind gave us an advantage and carried the sounds away from the house. Maybe the two children were as tired as the three of us were and would not have awakened had the roof blown off the house. Whatever, the reason the commotion outside did not disturb their slumber.

On Christmas morning, an excited Jason and Rayanne woke us up to tell us that Santa Claus had been to our house. Barbara and I stumbled into the living room to watch them open their presents, and also to open ours.

None of us can recall what all any of us got that morning, but I’m sure Jason and Rayanne were wondering, "Is this it?" as they surveyed the presents they just recently opened.

"Why don’t one of you check in the carport, in case Santa left something outside," Barbara suggested.

Jason took the bait and ran. A minute later, he burst back into the living room yelling excitedly, "Rayanne, we’ve got a trampoline."

Seeing the two of them bouncing on the trampoline in their pajamas was truly a Kodak moment, but we did not capture it on film and can only remember it. We managed to get them inside long enough to put on warm clothes before returning to the trampoline where they played most of the morning. At that moment, they didn’t realize they were bouncing on a used trampoline, and when we told them where we got it and that it didn’t come from Santa, they didn’t care. It only mattered that they had their very own trampoline. Even today, if someone asks them about their favorite or most memorable Christmas, they will usually think first of the year they got a trampoline.

Advent Season Preparing The Heart

Gwen Howell Cottrell forwarded us the following, which seems appropriate for the season, even for Baptists.

A story by Emile Griffin from the book "Epiphanies."

On the first Sunday of Advent, I sit in church and hear these words: Now is the time to wake out of sleep: for now our salvation is nearer than when we
first believed". Romans 13:11

And I think: now is the time to make a purposeful trip to the supermarket and do the shopping for all the baking that needs to be done. Now is the time to make sure all the church programs and parties and school activities are penciled in on the calendar so we don't overbook like we did last year. Now is the time to get up in the attic and dig out all of the Christmas decorations!

My observance of Advent is still very much an observance of womanly busy-ness, of being the mother, the Martha, in the kitchen cooking, in the living room vacuuming, in the dining room setting the table. Perhaps this year I can do less. I could spend a little more time with myself, a little more time with God, and a little less time with the Mixmaster.

On the second Sunday of Advent I arrived at church having made my seasonal list, having reconciled the various programs and invitations, having done the big shopping trip.

And the minister opens the service with: "The kingdom of God is close at hand. Repent, and believe the gospel." Luke 21:36

Christmas is close at hand! Holy Cow! Only...only twenty more days 'til Christmas. I may never get the hang of Advent, I despair. It's not really in my blood. It's not a Baptist sort of concept, really. I was raised in a church that marked the seasons with
observances like Valentine's Day Sunday and Mother's Day Sunday. Memorial Day meant flowers and men in uniform. Thanksgiving Day prayer services, New Year's Eve watch night services - these were the liturgical year of my childhood.

I am struck with free-church panic. My heart actually starts to thump, and I realize that I'm here, in this holy place, smack-dab in the middle of Advent, and I don't have any idea what I'm supposed to be doing about it. What does it mean: what does it mean that the kingdom of God is close at hand? Repent and believe the gospel - that's what it means.

I fall on my knees and confess my sins. "For the sake of your Son Jesus Christ, who died for us, forgive us all that is past; and grant that we may serve you in newness of life to the glory of your name. Amen," I intone with profound shame. "Amen."

On the third Sunday of Advent: "When the Lord comes, he will bring to light things now hidden in darkness, and will disclose the purposes of the heart." 1 Corinthians 4:5

When the Lord comes. My thoughts are back in time, too many years ago now, when I was waiting for a child to be born. The anticipation! What a frightening, exciting time it was. Every morning I would waken and wonder: is it today? And when it came time for me to be delivered of my child, I was ready.

"We know that the whole creation has been groaning as in the pains of childbirth right up to the present time." Romans 8:22

And I know that in my heart I am groaning with pain, panting for the kingdom, longing for justice and reconciliation in the world.

On the fourth Sunday of Advent I stand with the congregation for the introductory sentence: "The glory of the Lord shall be revealed and all people shall see it together." Isaiah 40:5

On Christmas morning all will be revealed. There have been hints that we might open gifts - at least one gift? - on Christmas Eve. That's the youngest child's proposal. But in her heart of hearts she doesn't want a preview. She wants it all, in one huge early morning revelation.

I am sitting on an uncomfortable pew in a church where men and women of great faith and very little faith have gathered to worship, to pray, to proclaim with their presence that their hope is in the Lord. They, like me, have looked for the glory of the Lord to be revealed. We are waiting, waiting, for an infinite God, unbound by time and space, to
reveal himself to us in a way we can understand.

On Christmas Eve there is a service of lessons and carols. We begin our worship with a startling promise: "In the morning you shall see the glory of the Lord." Exodus 16:7

It's all come down to this. All the preparations - the cookies that were made and not made. The presents that were bought, and those that were crossed off the list. The cards sent and received, the prayers spoken and unspoken. The shops are closed, the readying is over. If it hasn't been done yet, it won't be done at all. In the morning we shall see the glory of the Lord.

It is Christmas Eve. I am almost faint with exhaustion and revelation.

"The glory of the Lord shall be revealed, and all mankind shall see it." Luke 3:6

Bodock Beau Christmas Pageants

Two daughters had been given parts in a Christmas pageant at their church. At dinner that night, they got into an argument as to who had the most important role.

Finally the 14 year old said to her 8-year-old younger sister, "Well, you just ask Mom. She'll tell you it's much harder to be a virgin than it is to be an angel!"

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