Why My Family Will Celebrate Christmas

I recently was reading a seemingly innocuous post on Christmas tradition by Mark Driscoll on Facebook, and was shocked to discover that there are many Christians who feel very passionately that celebrating Christmas is sinful. Their rationalization is that Christmas is a pagan holiday (Saturnalia) assimilated by the Catholic Church. Now, this is actually true. The timing of the pagan celebration of Saturnalia, and the pagan celebrations for the Winter Solstice were considered by the Church when choosing a date for the Christmas celebration. However, I do not feel that it is sinful to celebrate Christmas. I've listed a few arguments below used by people against Christmas, and why we have chosen to overlook said argument.\

1. It's a pagan holiday assimilated by the Church. We shouldn't celebrate any pagan holidays.

-True. We shouldn't as Christians celebrate Saturnalia, or the Winter Solstice. But that's not what I'm celebrating at Christmas. I don't even know all the ins and outs of Saturnalia, nor do I care. And as far as the Winter Solstice goes... If we never had another Winter Solstice ever again I would be the happiest person in the world. No winter celebrations here. Not for this summer lovin' girl. :) No, I do not celebrate those things. Christmas is a celebration of Jesus' incarnation on this earth. It is a great miracle that God had a plan of salvation in place from the very beginning of time. He knew that Adam and Eve would screw up in the Garden of Eden. He knew before the creation of the earth that He would need a plan of salvation for the humans He was about to create in His image. Jesus was that plan. God sent His Son to earth in human form so that He might live as a man for a time before completing His salvific work by dying on the cross and rising again on the third day (but that's another holiday altogether!). Christmas is when we celebrate Jesus' birth as a human baby. Amazing isn't it that we can take this time every year to specifically remember this sacrifice that Jesus made for us? Philippians 2 tells us of this sacrifice: "who, though he was in the form of God, did not count equality with God a thing to be grasped, 7but made himself nothing, taking the form of a servant,b being born in the likeness of men. 8And being found in human form, he humbled himself by becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross. " (ESV) While we should give thanks for this all year round, it is only fitting that we take time to especially honor what Jesus has done. That brings me to the next argument...

2. We should celebrate Jesus' birth all year.

-Yes, but like I said, it is only fitting that we dedicate our minds for a season to really marvel at what Jesus has done. I mean, we should be thankful for Jesus' death and resurrection year round too, but I don't see anyone arguing against Easter. (Although I say that and there probably are those out there who do.) We can only give God more glory by dwelling on the miracle of the incarnation, and in the end isn't that what life is all about?

3. Jesus wasn't born on the 25th of December!

-Who gives a flying flip? The only reason you know when you were born is because of the careful records kept by this country. You could have been an orphan from some other country and have not a clue when your birthday is. Wouldn't you still want to celebrate one if you could? Besides, I have heard very few people actually argue that Jesus was born in December. That's obviously not the point. The point is we take time in December to celebrate the incarnation. We could do it in June if we wanted, although then you'd probably have the naysayers up in arms about the Summer Solstice. :)

This certainly isn't an exhaustive list of arguments, it's just the ones that I heard most frequently while I was reading. I don't feel the need to defend my decision to celebrate Christmas, but I thought it would make for an interesting blog post!

Rejoice with Those who Rejoice!

Oh you have to pop over to Aaron and Jennifer's blog to see what God has done!!! How great and how good is the God we serve! Praise His name forever! Merry early Christmas you guys!

Why I've been MIA

Sorry I haven't been blogging as regularly as I would like. There are a couple of reasons for this.

1. I found out on Sept. 28th that we are expecting our second child!! We are extremely excited, but I have been really sick. I spent 3 weeks unable to function aside from making the trip from my bedroom to the bathroom to throw up, multiple times a day. Thanks to my amazing doctor, I am now back on the Zofran I was taking while I was pregnant with Derek and my life is much better. I still don't feel 100%, but I feel much much better. Still, it's hard to get motivated to blog when I'd rather be using Derek's nap time to sleep myself! Haha!

2. Nathan and I have been dealing with an immense issue in our ministry that I am not able to discuss in a public forum such as this. All I can say is that we covet the prayers of our brothers and sisters. We have never faced anything like this before, and while we know it is for our sanctification in Christ Jesus, we are still at a loss as to what to do. We are thankful for those of you who do know about the situation who have offered up your advice. Please continue to pray that the LORD would grant us wisdom.

That's all for now. Like I said, with these two things eating up most of my remaining brain capacity (after it's been fried by hours of PBS Kids and peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, and picking up the same mess over and over again...) I may not be blogging as much. Hopefully the second trimester will bring the return of my energy!

I am Finished...

I have come to a point in my life where I am extremely discouraged with the terrible attitude displayed by others toward me lately. I have been judged to be a sub-par human by more people in the last 4 weeks than I have ever encountered in my twenty-six years of life. I am done. I will not stand for it any more. From now on, no one may tell me that I am a bad mother because my child sleeps in a crib. A crib is not "baby jail", a crib is not evil. A crib is not going to cause my child to die suddenly in their sleep. No one knows what causes SIDS. I will no longer tolerate being told I am terrible because of the choices I have made in the raising of my child. I will no longer be told that I can't take care of myself as a woman because I am a mother. I am both. I am a woman, and a mother. I am a mother and wife. Both relationships are important and I will spend time on both relationships. If that means leaving my toddler with a trusted babysitter for a few hours so my husband and I can go out, so be it. Do not judge me for taking care of my marriage.
I will no longer tolerate being gossiped about. The minute I hear of someone speaking ill of me or my family behind our backs, I will go to them and lovingly confront them as is exemplified in Matthew 18:15. If that is not received then I will react with following Matthew 18:16 and bringing another party in on it. And if that still is not received then I will go to the church with no hesitation. It's people from church doing it anyway, so hopefully it won't get to that point. But I cannot continue to live my life in fear of these people and what they might say.
I will no longer tolerate the attitude of believers towards one another. I will no longer allow it to be swept out of sight, but rather shine light on it so that the sin can be dealt with. When someone judges me based on my appearance (as happened last night when I was told I was not going to "get into heaven" because I have pierced ears), I will lovingly remind them that man looks at the outside of a person, but the Lord looks at the heart. (1 Samuel 16:7)
I will no longer respond to someone speaking in anger, but will rather encourage them to correct in love if it must be done. I will not grovel before people who are too immature to accept an adult's sincere apology. If they do not accept a sincere and godly apology then I will shake the dust off my feet and be done with them (while still loving and praying for them to come around).
I have reached the point where I cannot ignore these things any longer. Christians have HORRENDOUS attitudes, especially toward one another. It is disturbing to finally be in a place where I am seeing what the non Christians are talking about. I have never been in a place where Christians are so unloving toward one another. It is shocking, and it is heart breaking. Something must be done. That is why I am finished with looking the other direction while everyone eats each other for breakfast. To quote Derek's current favorite movie "I didn't come this far to be breakfast!" (Finding Nemo)

One More Rant...

Ok, maybe I'm the only one bothered by this but every tine I see someone suggesting that a child be drugged for no medical reason I freak out. For example: a friend's Facebook status this morning was asking for tips on a long car trip with two very small children. Most responses were decent enough but there's always that one person who says "Benadryl!" WHAT????? Ok seriously, I know my friend is smart enough not to do that but it really pisses me off. How bout we tranquilize you? Childrens' bodies are so tiny and at very young ages (under the age of four) their systems are still underdeveloped. This is why you can't give a child under 4 cold medicine. This is why Robitussin can't be given to children under age 6. The amount of medicine could literally poison a child. So that being said, don't medicate your children just to shut them up!!! How stupid and lazy can a parent be? You chose to have children and that means putting up with them on car trips if you choose to take them. Now let me clarify that I'm not against medication. I give Derek infant Tylenol (or whatever the knockoff is) when he is in pain. If your child has allergies and your doctor says its ok and gives you the correct dosage then by all means give your child Benadryl. Use medication for its intende2d purpose, not for a tranquilzer.

Ok. Rant over. Anyone out there agree with me? Or am I going nuts?

Mild Vent

Very mild vent here....

Maybe I'm crazy, but when someone asks advice on wanting to buy a version of a particular object that doesn't cost "an arm and a leg", people shouldn't suggest the highest end version of that item that costs an arm and a leg!!!!!!!!! That's my opinion anyway. I'd pretty pretty mad if I was looking for a cheap plastic tupperware cup and people kept directing me toward the Swarovski Crystal champagne flutes.

9/11 Remembered

It was a normal school day for me. I woke up at five thirty, showered, got dressed, left my house at six thirty. I picked up my friend Sarah. I can’t remember what we talked about as we drove to Eastview High School, but I’m pretty sure that it was normal teenage stuff. As we drove we listened to the morning show on the local top forty radio station. School starts at seven thirty. It was no different that day. Funny, I can’t even remember what my first hour class was. None of those details were important to me then, they are lost in the fog of time.
It’s interesting how some things are burned into our minds. There are moments when time slows down and you have all the time in the world to log each detail away so that you can remember it all your life. Those who remember Pearl Harbor know what I’m talking about. Those who remember President Kennedy’s assassination know what I’m talking about. During those moments you rarely know that your mind is actually locking those things into your memory. Usually the moment happens and you remember it forever without even realizing why.
I remember that my second hour class was AP Literature and Composition. I remember that my teacher’s name was Mr. Bayer and that he had a really casual teaching style that made his English class the most enjoyable English class I had ever taken in high school. I remember that the girl who sat next to me was named Katie, and that she was in color guard for the marching band. I remember that her boyfriend’s name was Cody because she talked about him all the time. I remember that I sat in the second row on the left hand side of the classroom as you look at it from the back. I remember that we were supposed to watch “The Adventures of Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn.”
My dad is an airline pilot. That has always made my life a little different. He was gone a lot when I was younger. People always looked at me with the same look that you would give a kid whose dad is in the military.
“Oh, that must have been hard for you.” People would say to me as I got older. The truth is that I never really thought about it. My dad was a pilot before I was born. I have never known anything different. Northwest Airlines, whom my father flies for, has their world headquarters in Eagan Minnesota which is, not coincidentally, where I grew up. That whole area is chuck full of airline families. All my friends in high school with the exception of two were from airline families. When I went off to college people would say things like “Oh wow, your dad’s a pilot?! That’s so cool! So do you, like get to fly for free?” Nobody said things like that in high school. They were all in the same boat as me. There was a mutual understanding among us. We talked smack about Northwest management when the pilots went on strike in 1998, and every time the mechanics went on strike we griped about how the CEO really didn’t know anything about his company. We talked about a lot of things having to do with the airline industry, but we never, ever talked about plane crashes. There is a solidarity among airline families. The same kind of solidarity you find among military families, and NASA families. The thing that airline families have in common with military families and NASA families is that we all know that at any moment, tragedy can strike. It never matters how safe flying is supposed to be, or how few accidents they’ve actually had in the space program, or whether your spouse was supposed to be a non combatant, there is always the knowledge in the back of your head that there is a possibility that when your family member leaves for work, he or she may not come home. You never talk about that possibility. You never think about that possibility. When I was in tenth grade I really, really liked this boy. I was convinced that I was going to marry him someday, as soon as he realized he loved me back. There was nothing that boy could do to make me stop liking him. At least, so I thought. When we were discussing flight plans for our summer missions trip with church, I asked what airline we would be flying. He cracked a joke about flying on Egypt Air. Earlier that month an Egypt Air flight had crashed shortly after take off. It was determined that it was pilot suicide. I hated that boy. I hated him with everything I had for that moment. (And for a while afterwards, until he finally apologized to me.) When TWA flight 800 blew up over the Atlantic, we were glued to the television. The reason is simple, we are a community, and we feel it when we lose a member of that community. The thing about the airline community is that when a plane goes down we don’t just lose one member of the community, we lose several. After it leaves the news, we never talk about it again. It’s not something we want to remember over and over again.
Everything that happened after that second hour class is vivid in my memory. I remember third hour Spanish and calling my mom and telling her that I wanted to go home. I remember Eastview High School going on lock down. I remember a girl named Maggie hysterically telling people that her mom was being forced to evacuate the IDS tower in downtown Minneapolis because “it was next.” I remember a fellow pilot’s daughter huddling next to her locker and telling me that her father was flying that day. I remember there being so much we didn’t know. I remember going home.
I wrote a poem for a scholarship about it. It was really good. It was too good. I never submitted it. I think I wanted to keep it especially for me. Every person had something about that day that they kept to themselves. I think everyone had to keep at least one thing to themselves because there were so many things we shared. American flags lined the streets of suburbia and every car had a “united we stand” bumper sticker. There were candlelight vigils and tributes to the heroic firefighters and police force members. There were bulletin boards covered in pictures of missing people and pictures on the news of their families crying as they pleaded for information about their loved one.
I remember Mr. Bayer turning on the television and turning off the lights in the classroom. I remember that in the split second it took for the video tape to register in the VCR we caught a glimpse of two buildings on fire. I remember thinking it was just a made for TV movie. Then, I remember seeing the CNN logo in the bottom corner. I remember the class shouting in unison, the same two words “GO BACK!!” I remember Mr. Bayer sinking into his chair as we watched unbelieving what was unfolding on the TV in front of us. I remember seeing the buildings fall. I remember the principal talking over the loudspeaker saying that school would remain in session, although teachers would be free to abandon their lessons and just watch the news all day. I remember the airline kids shooting terrified glances at each other. I remember thinking where is my dad? Is he flying? I remember calling my mom and finding out that he was safe at home. I remember waiting anxiously for the newscasters to tell us what airlines had been involved.
There were tributes to the pilots and flight attendants that died that day. But not until later. They seemed to us to be the forgotten victims. Then, we received stickers in the mail from the Airline Pilot Association. They said “we will not forget.” They are right. We won’t forget. I read in the newspaper about the husband of one of the flight attendants and how he rode his bike across the country to commemorate the life of his wife and the lives of her co-workers. There was a memorial put up to venerate the crew of United flight 93.
And me? I joined the ranks of those who would go on to be called the 9/11 generation. We now know what it’s like to be someone who remembers Pearl Harbor, or the Kennedy assassination. We know what it is to have a single moment in history burned into our eyes and ears, and for some of us, our noses as well. We know what it is to suddenly worry about our safety when we’ve never had to before. And, like two generations before us we know what it is like to feel overwhelmed with uncertainty about the future. We all know that someday, our children will ask us about that Tuesday morning, and we will help them write their history papers and projects about it. We will show them newspapers and video tapes of CNN and NBC broadcasts. They will ask us how it feels to remember such a pivotal event in our nation’s history. We will respond that we are not the first to experience it, and we will not be the last. Because, after all, history has a way of repeating itself.