This week I met my hubby for lunch—a nice little Italian place where we each had a bowl of pasta.  While there, two thirty-something women at a nearby table caught my eye. Obviously on a “working lunch” one had her wireless computer open next to her water glass, the other clutched a cell that rarely left her hand even while eating. 

It was hard not noticing them since they constantly jumped up and down from their chairs to go outside and make phone calls.  When they did sit, one texted, the other flailed away at her computer. Interestingly, there was very little interaction between the two of them.

I marveled at this flurry of communication that seemed so void of relationship—this cadre of gadgets that enabled them, and enables us, to communicating more but connect, really connect, less, thus making our relationships anemic.  We have facebook, twitter, emails, and cell texting where we can say more than ever but end up by saying less—less meaningful, less real, less personal. I know.  I’m guilty of this myself.

I think my fear is this: with our culture already addicted to “instant gratification” will this “instant” connecting with others in little snippets, which is so appealing, cause us to find deep, time consuming and demanding efforts at a real relationship a thing of the past? And that includes a relationship with God. I hope not. But I think it’s already trending that way.

Until next week,

Sylvia

Yesterday was Father’s Day.  Those fortunate enough to still have their dads and are close enough geographically, probably celebrated the day with a visit and a meal. Other’s connected via a card, a phone call, or email.  But I wonder if the fathers themselves, the ones being honored, really know how important they are?

Let me tell you.

You are a one-of-a kind Dad.  Indispensible and irreplaceable to your children.  No one in the world will impact or influence your children’s lives like you.   Your daughters will learn about men and marriage and how women should be treated from you.  And your example will define manhood for your sons. It is the most important job you will ever have, and trumps all others. Nothing you could do in the corporate world, sports world, or any other world could be more lasting or meaningful than the impact you will have on your children, children who are the future of our world.  And your example will shape that future world.

That’s pretty heavy stuff.  And if that weren’t enough, here’s one final point, and the most import.  You’re example will color your children’s view of their heavenly Father.   While your love will model the love of God, your cruelty, disinterest, or neglect can leave your children with a distorted picture of the One who promises to never leave them or forsake them, thus possibly impacting their eternal destiny as well.

Are fathers important?  I don’t think their importance can be overstated.  May God bless all the fathers and help them understand their true significance and worth.

Until next week,

Sylvia

This week I had the pleasure of spending a few days with my grandchildren.  It made me realize, again, what a blessing grandchildren are, truly gifts from God to be appreciated and enjoyed.  But as in other areas, I’ve learned that here, too, there are general guidelines that help keep that experience the pleasure it should be.  I’m certain that as I continue in my role as grandparent, I’ll be learning many more, but for now I’ll pass alone these five points to remember.

1) You’re the grandparent not parent.  That means your grandchildren’s parents have the right to make the rules and you should respect them.

2) Young grandchildren, especially, want their grandparents to sit on the floor with them and play.  Do as much of that as possible.  Remember, they’ll get older, and soon enough the time will come when hanging around with their friends will be more important than sitting down and spending time with you.

3) Even so . . . your grandkids have more energy than you do.  They’re younger and that will never change.  Keep up the best you can, but know when to say, “I’m tired, I can’t play anymore.”

4) Though training and providing direction is important, remember your grandchildren get enough of that from their parents (or should).  It’s more important for grandparents to show unconditional love and support and encouragement.  Dispense lots of praise and kisses, and a minimum of criticism.

5) Even so . . . not everything your grandchild does will be “wonderful”.  Dispensing truth in love at important moments can give your grandchild a deeper respect for your opinion and judgment, as well as your insights and wisdom.

Grandparents have a wonderful opportunity to model the unconditional love of God, while having some of the most rewarding times of their lives.  Now that’s a blessing that’s hard to beat!

Until next week,

Sylvia

Memorial Day is a time to remember all the brave men and women who have given so much for us and our country.  Coming from a military family I well understand the sacrifice of which I speak.  I’ve seen it first hand: husbands leaving their wives, fathers leaving their children, friends leaving their buddies, all for parts unknown which is generally alien, often hostile, and where there are few creature comforts.  And these men and women do this because they believe in our way of life and in freedom, and they know these things don’t come cheap.

So this Memorial Day I lift my voice in honor of our troops both here and abroad. They deserve to be remembered and valued and praised.

But I also want to remember another kind of soldier:  all those Christians who down through the corridor of time have fought the good fight of faith, many dying for it, others making incredible sacrifices and enduring unspeakable hardships, well known soldiers like David Livingston who gave up everything to bring the Gospel to Africa, Corrie ten Boom who suffered persecution under the Nazis for hiding Jews, Richard Wurmbrand who spend years imprisoned by the Communists because he wouldn’t renounce his faith, just to mention a few. But there are countless others, unknown Christians who year after year live small, simple lives, enduring the subtle and not-so-subtle persecution of a world that is in enmity with God, nameless Christians who go against the grain and political correctness in order to remain true to their faith. Christians who are buffeted around the world for their faith, slaughtered or burned alive in their homes like Christians in Indonesia have been, or bombed by their own government as the Christians in Sudan have been, or simply denied jobs has many Christians in Muslim countries have been.

So this Memorial Day, as we salute the men and women of our armed forces, let us also remember those other soldiers who fight silently and valiantly the good fight of faith.

Until next week,

Sylvia

My husband is Italian and has always known how to celebrate life.  From him I’ve learned it too. Throughout our marriage we’ve celebrated all the little milestones of our lives and our children’s around a table, eating a meal with extended family and friends: nursery school graduation; dance recitals; the end of pewee baseball, you get the idea. It all makes for fond memories, and in some ways reminds me of a simpler time.

But so much has changed from those years. Life has become hectic. Our expectations have become so high.  We want so much that often we find it difficult to enjoy what we actually have. This is what a niece of mine thinks.  The other day she began recalling all the great times our family had growing up; she meant the extended family, which was considerable—aunts, uncles, cousins. She spoke of the Sunday dinners at Grandma’s where we had the same meal every week: a dish of pasta, breaded chicken, some vegetables and a salad. She recalled how the cousins would play all day without benefit of TV or computer games, but using their imaginations, instead. And how the highlight of the day came when the ice cream truck arrived outside the house and Grandpa would line up all the kids and buy them something.

She’s a professional now, holding down a full time job and loving her work, yet still laments that her generation’s children may not have what she had.  She thinks perhaps the economic downturn will force a return to the simpler life; that as discretionary income shrinks, people may have to consider more simplistic pleasures.

I think she may have something.  I’m a firm believer that good can come out of every adversity, and in keeping with that thought perhaps our economic woes will create a new spirit of contentment.  John D. Rockefeller, one of the world’s richest men, was once asked, “how much money is enough?” His answer, “Just a little bit more.”

For too long we’ve been a nation of wanting just a little bit “more”. Perhaps now is the time to see that we already have enough.  Perhaps now is the time to be content and celebrate life by enjoying the simple pleasures, and enjoying them with gratitude that our God has, in reality, given us so much.

Until next week,

Sylvia  

About a week before the Health Care Bill passed I got a troubling glimpse of what that might mean.  I was with my husband in a doctor’s office when my husband posed this question to the nurse practitioner.  “What do you think of Obama’s health care plan?  Is it good or bad?”  The nurse, a young woman, was in favor of it. I’ve observed this before.  Younger nurses and doctors seemed more open to ObamaCare than older ones or ones who have been in practice for awhile, so I wasn’t surprised.  But what followed, was a stunner.

She told us that in order for it to work we would have to cut premature babies and the elderly loose, the two groups that soak up more of our health dollars than any others. She went on to say that premature babies cost an incredible amount of money, and that many continue to drain our health care dollars because they usually have more illnesses and disabilities than full term babies. Regarding the elderly, she said no more can a ninety year old man with a heart problem go in for heart surgery (as if he actually would).  Rather, he would be made comfortable with medication, then left for nature to take its course. Her words were not impassioned or full of sympathy, but were as cold as if she was reading off some graph. I found the whole thing frightening.  What happened to nurses and doctors caring about the sick, the weak? What happened to nurturing and protecting life? Or trying to save it?

It’s easy to take this further.  It wouldn’t even involve much of a leap. That ninety year old could easily become eighty or seventy or even sixty-five.  Why not?  Aren’t those sixty-five and older also a drain on our social security dollars?   On the other end, why stop at premature babies?  What about that one year old, or two year old who keeps coming back to the hospital for one treatment after another, one surgery after another to correct the uncorrectable?  Why not just cut them off, too, and just say that a child has to make it on its own until, what?  Four? Five? Sort of prove its worth.

Have we come so far as a society that we are actually talking like this?  Measuring out our healthcare dollars by how “deserving” a person might be.  If a baby has a good chance of contributing to our society then he can live.  Conversely, if a person becomes too old and is no longer a contributor but in actuality, a double drain, well, he becomes undeserving, too.

I’m so glad God doesn’t measure out His love or His blessings based on how deserving we are, how much we contribute to society.  The Bible says God is no respecter of persons.  To him, the weak, the incapacitated, those with impaired mental acumen, the feeble, the old are no less precious in His sight.  Why don’t we feel that way? When did we start measuring the worth of a life so callously?  I fear that those who laughed at Sarah Palin for her remarks about the “Death Panels” many someday owe her an apology.

Until next week,

Sylvia

So many people have called my husband a “loveable Teddy Bear.” And he is. And this week, someone at work came up to him and in front of a group of people began telling him how kind, nice, thoughtful he was.  The person went on and on, and out of embarrassment my husband walked away.

The point is this, we seldom realize how much we affect others.  We think our lives are small, filled with ordinary jobs, laundry, cooking, cleaning, and a hundred other mundane chores.  We don’t live the large life of a Billy Graham, a man with a giant footprint. And because we believe this we think we can’t make a difference. Nothing is further from the truth.  Each of us will touch hundreds of people in our lifetime, and impact them for either good or bad. 

A friend of mine loves to sing.  But because someone told her long ago she couldn’t carry a tune, she claims she won’t even sing in the shower.  Karen Carpenter, the famous 70s singer, once read a newspaper article about her brother, Richard, where, in one small sentence, the reporter called her the chubby little sister.  From that day on being thin became an obsession, and she battled an eating disorder for years until it finally claimed her life. 

These are obvious negative impacts. But the reverse also holds true.  How many times has a kind word here, a smile there, lifted our spirits? How many times has just the right word stopped us from doing something stupid? Made us dare to follow our dream, or not quit at something? We may not leave a giant footprint, like Billy Graham, but we’re all going to leave our thumbprints on the people who cross our lives.  And the thing is, we’ll probably never know the far reaching impact we’ve had on them until we get to the other side of glory.

In this season of good will and cheer, it’s easy to want to go that extra mile to be kind to someone, to spend more time listening, to care more for others. And that’s a good thing.  But let’s not forget that when the tree is packed away and the tinsel taken down and stashed in the attic for another year, people are still going to need plenty of good will, and it’s up to us whether or not we make a positive imprint on their lives.

Until next week,

Sylvia

Christmas is in the air.  The lights, the music, the holiday rush make it an exciting time. I’ve spent hours shopping.  Even more hours decorating my house so it will look “magical” when the grandkids come.  Next to Easter, this is the most wonderful time of year for a Christian. I feel both joy and excitement as I get ready to participate in the biggest birthday party in the world.  Our God, our Savior, our King, our Friend came to earth as our Kinsman Redeemer over 2000 years ago, and millions are preparing to celebrate. 

I think of them now.  They are my brothers and sisters in Christ.  But I also think of the many who will go through the motions this season only because it’s “tradition,” and not a matter of the heart.  They celebrate because that’s how their parents did it, or because that’s what everyone else does, or because they don’t want their kids to miss out on the presents and fun. Their house will be decorated, too, their shopping done but there will be no room in the inn of their heart for the One who loves them, who gave Himself for them, who longs to whisper in their ear and call them, “friend.”

Tradition can be a fine thing, but it can’t warm the heart or strengthen resolve or heal a troubled mind.   There is only One who can do that, and He’s too much of a gentleman to barge in uninvited.  If ever there was a time when we needed to open that door and invite Him in, it is now.

I pray this season will be filled with good health and joy.  But most of all I pray that room will be made in the inn of your heart for the One whose birth we celebrate.

Until next week,

Sylvia

I don’t particularly like shopping. My idea of it looks something like this: If I’m with friends I go to one store, make a quick purchase, then spend the next three hours in a coffee shop, talking. If I shop alone, I wear sneakers, bring a list and make like a marathon runner. So for someone like me, it’s essential I make my excursions pleasant, especially the big ones like Christmas shopping.

One of the ways I accomplish this is by making lists throughout the year. Listening to family and friends when they say things like, “Oh, I love that!” or “Someday I’m going to get this;” or “I really need that;” will give you ideas. Write them down. These things, plus stocking stuffers, can be picked up throughout the year, way in advance of the Christmas rush, thus trimming your list to a manageable size. Another tip: shop early. I try to get even those “last minute” items before Thanksgiving (though I haven’t quite managed it this year). I’ve good reasons for doing this. After Thanksgiving it is harder to get a salesclerk to help you; the lines are longer at the cash register; and many popular items are already picked-over or sold out.

Over the years I’ve learned that the two biggest stress factors in a holiday like Christmas is 1) time 2) money.  Spreading out your shopping time, as well as your expenditures, will make for a happier holiday season.  And isn’t that what we all want?  To really enjoy the holidays with family and friends?  Doing the above makes this possible for me. But most importantly, it gives me the stress-free time to reflect on Jesus. After all, Jesus is the reason for the season.

Until next week,

Sylvia

Every year in November my married daughter begins baking the gazillion cookies that go into her 48 Christmas cookie boxes—the list continues to grow—which she gives to neighbors, friends, associates. Because of the sheer number of cookies she bakes, she only makes those that freeze well. She’s learned from experience that trying to bake this many around the time she’s ready to give out her boxes is a sure recipe for frazzled nerves. 

So this week she baked the second of the seven varieties she’s planning for the holidays, 18 dozen Puckle Warts (Pecan Fingers), and happily I was her “helper.” My job was to roll her dough into logs before she baked them.  It was a sweet time together, time we both carved out of busy schedules.  And it brought back memories of the days when I was the “baker” and she was the “helper.” She’s far surpassed me now, being more creative and daring in the baking department than I ever was. 

We laughed and talked and drank tea and sampled the “goods.” And I realized that just as when she was young and we did these kinds of things together and made sweet memories, so we continue to make them even now. And it made me realize once again, that most of the sweet memories in life are usually carved out of busy schedules.  Life doesn’t often hand us time for those special moments with those we love.  We must grab them, fight for them, set aside other things, perhaps even important things, in order to have them.

As we enter the busy holiday season it’s good to remember that memories will be made no matter what we do. But whether they will be fuzzy and dull, bitter, or sweet, is up to us.

By the way . . . if you have any favorite family Christmas cookie recipes you’d like to share, I’ll post them on my blog site during the Holidays. Your name will be entered in a drawing and after Christmas I’ll send the winner an autographed copy of one of my books. You can choose which one.

Until next week,

Sylvia