In Gennesaret

Y’all, my hair . I don’t know what to do with my hair. For a few years, I’ve had this little white-gray streak right at the top of my hairline (think Stacy London from "What Not To Wear", but much less pronounced). It hasn’t been very noticeable because of the way my hair naturally falls. But I wish I could make it more noticeable. It’s . . . I don’t know. A little unique and sassy. I like it actually. The color on the rest of my head, however, has been managed with chemicals for years – and that’s a problem now. See, one of the consequences of my daughters moving out is that I have nobody in the house to apply the Clairol Nice & Easy #7 Dark Blonde Root Touch-Up, which means I have gradually been getting grayer over the last six months. So, I’ve considered whether I should give up and just embrace the new look. My main hang-up has always been The Line – you know, that obvious and unattractive boundary that gradually descends down one’s head and separates the half tha

I don’t know if this is a new trend this year or what, but all of a sudden, I keep hearing people pontificate about the song, “Mary, Did You Know.” As in, they're downright offended by the thing. “Of course, she knew all that!” they say. “Haven’t you read your Bible? This song is so messed up.” Some Facebook friend of mine posted a video of a woman portraying Mary, singing her response: “Yes, I frickin’ knew . . .!” Oh, come ON, people. First of all, the song is beautiful. Let the world enjoy a beautiful piece of music. All the mindless claptrap out there playing on the Christmas stations . . . at least this one is proclaiming truths about who Jesus is. But more than that, I don’t have any issue with the lyrics. Scripture is pretty clear that for a long time, even Jesus’ disciples didn’t really understand who he was and what he came for – certainly not that he was “Lord of all creation” and “heaven’s perfect Lamb” and “the great I Am”. Yes, Mary knew this baby was something s

Advent’s a bit of a weird thing to me. The church I grew up in didn’t practice Advent. I don’t remember actually doing the weekly candle-lighting ritual until we moved to New Jersey. And it was sweet, for sure, but not so terribly meaningful. I mentioned this with a group of friends the other day – that “Advent” wasn’t really a thing for me. It’s all just “Christmas”. One of those friends grew thoughtful; apparently Advent really does have a lot of meaning for her. She celebrates it as a time of entering into what life was like before Christ came, a time when the church “makes present this ancient expectancy of the Messiah”, knowing that somebody is coming, and we are just waiting . . . and waiting . . . Well, hmmmmm. Watching “The Chosen” has brought this a little more home to me. There’s one particular episode when the disciples are sitting around talking about when they were young and had dreams of what it would be like when the Messiah came to liberate Israel, and how they had ho

‘Tis the gift-giving season. Sigh . . . I wish I did this better. Gift-giving is not my love language. -  The Christmas List. BIG SIGH . . . It played an imperative role in my Christmases Past with the in-laws. Gift-giving is their love language, so they were adamant about needing a list. Early on, this was a joy because there were all sorts of things that we needed when we were young, just starting out, and relatively poor. But as time went on and my genuine needs grew fewer, it became a problem because it kind of forced me to manufacture desires that wouldn’t have been there otherwise. Honestly, it wasn’t a good practice – for me or for my children. I’m grateful that my girls have come to see that, too. Now that they’ve reached that age of starting life on their own and having many material needs, the Christmas list is valid. But they are aware now of needs versus wants . And they seem to be content without the wants but joyful and grateful when they get them . . . which is whe

Aaaand I’m back to doing jigsaw puzzles – a suitable use of time for the convalescent, right? When my sister came to stay with me at the beginning of my recovery, she brought some puzzles with her. She left one with me – this Christmas one you see in the picture. I LOVE this puzzle! I have done it over and over and over and over since she left. I suspect this reveals some freakish form of neurosis in me. Turns out that while we share a love of jigsaws, my sister and I do them quite differently. For one thing, I do the same puzzles repeatedly – the pleasure for me is not as much in discovering the solution as in knowing the solution. (Yeah, I’m weird.) Apparently, my sister rarely does a puzzle more than once. Which is why I got to keep the new Christmas one. Also, the plastic trays you see there? That’s her idea. She uses small box lids (she brought hers from home), but I grabbed Tupperware lids when she left. It’s a great idea: something to physically separate the pieces, but I

A Facebook friend recently posted a link that just about set my hair on fire. "Music to Avoid", the picture was titled, with the name of a contemporary Christian artist underneath. "Here is our latest post where we have put together links to resources and videos showing why certain popular 'teachers' and/or Christian artists should be marked and avoided." Marked and avoided. Y'ALL. I am all about being careful what we put into our minds. Yes, we need to pay attention to what we are listening to and singing at church on Sundays -- or anytime and anywhere. We need to be Berean in examining the teaching we hear from the pulpit or anywhere (see Acts 17). Yes. Do this . But am I the only one troubled by that phrase "mark and avoid"? I'm not familiar with the particular artist they were castigating in this story, but if she's like most Christian musicians that are successful enough to have a following, she has some good music and some bad mus