Happy New Year

betsey:jane is taking a brief vacation. We'll be back on January 5. Blessings!

Mary's Song

Blue homespun and the bend of my breast
keep warm this small hot naked star
fallen to my arms. (Rest …
you who have had so far to come.)
Now nearness satisfies
the body of God sweetly. Quiet he lies
whose vigor hurled a universe. He sleeps
whose eyelids have not closed before.
His breath (so slight it seems
no breath at all) once ruffled the dark deeps
to sprout a world. Charmed by doves’ voices,
the whisper of straw, he dreams,
hearing no music from his other spheres.
Breath, mouth, ears, eyes
he is curtailed who overflowed all skies,
all years. Older than eternity, now he
is new. Now native to earth as I am, nailed
to my poor planet, caught
that I might be free, blind in my womb
to know my darkness ended,
brought to this birth for me to be new-born,
and for him to see me mended
I must see him torn.

Luci Shaw
(from WinterSong: Christmas Readings by Madeleine L'Engle and Luci Shaw)

betsey:jane will return Wednesday, December 22. In the meantime, we wish you a very merry Christmas!

Tea and Sympathy

 

jane: A cozy table, fragrant teas, great conversation, and a delicious assortment of delectables . . . what a sweet holiday tradition our little book club has created, meeting each December in downtown Wheaton at Suzette's Creperie for its Christmas Tea! And for me, last Sunday afternoon's celebration with everyone couldn't have arrived at a better time.

As we sipped chai tea and devoured scones slathered with clotted cream and lemon curd, I experienced a respite from the acute sadness over an ill family member that burdened me. 

Despite whipping winds and swirling snow outside, I felt warmed by the caring concern that comes from time spent with girlfriends.

Just think, Betsey, how our book club, now going on its second year, has evolved beyond monthly discussions about words on paper (or text on Kindle). We're joined not only by our love of reading, but by our faith, our present or past employer, and our season of life. A season, I might add, that's seen lots of unexpected, unwelcome stuff interjected into it.

Over the months we've been meeting as the Topaz Literary Club, you, Louise, Marty, Virginia, and I have experienced life-changing, even life-threatening challenges.

For instance, I've soldiered through my parents' house fire, my father-in-law's death, my mother-in-law's move into assisted living, and my sister-in-law's cancer battle. Add to that what all the others have been going through!

betsey: I know: unemployment in the family, loss of parents, illness, even the normal “aches and pains” of the second half that are more inconvenience than tragedy, but still a nuisance. But what a joy to reconnect with these women. We all knew each other when, some of us going back to the mid-'80s, but it’s wonderful to sit and look around and see how God has journeyed with us.

jane: God's been present with our group, that's for sure. But Betsey, do you remember exactly why we named ourselves “Topaz”? I'm scratching my head, trying to remember . . .

betsey: You know, I don’t! I mean, we’re all gems, right? Could be that the topaz has some significance. Also, it’s kind of a cool word. Sounds almost Arabic or something.

jane: How different this book club experience has been from my first, which was somewhat disappointing. A dear friend had sweetly invited me to join hers, and the club was comprised of very nice women. But because I lived many miles from their suburban community, I never really felt plugged in. When I became increasingly demotivated by the long drive to meetings, I finally decided to quit. Yet I continued to daydream - and even pray a bit - about gathering women who loved words and ideas, whose faith and wisdom I respected, women with whom I knew I'd connect because we held certain experiences and a life stage in common. The first one I thought of was you, Betsey! When I approached you with my idea of inviting a few compatible women to begin a book club, I was thrilled you agreed to partner with me in this enterprise.  

betsey: When we started talking about it, I was very happy because I felt like I was doing what women of a certain age and socioeconomic level do: join a book club! We’ve even read The Help! (Which I think we all really enjoyed. Guess they’re making a movie out of it . . . I know that from reading People at the salon.)

jane: Oh, did you hear they're finally making a movie out of Devil in the White City, our first book club pick? Our friend Leonardo DiCaprio is to play the lead role of the evil Dr. Holmes. So sorry for you it's not Johnny Depp, knowing how you feel about him . . . !

betsey: Actually, he would be excellent, but Leo should do a fine job too. Love that book! I’ll admit, some books I enjoyed more than others, and there have been some months it felt like “homework.” But especially in recent months

I feel we’ve reached a sweet, deep level of sisterhood.

jane: I marvel at that - and thank God for it. Friendship is such a funny thing. When I was editor of Today's Christian Woman magazine, I had final say on the purchase of friendship articles. And when an author wrote from the assumption our readers all had scads of girly friends with whom they merrily met for mega-shopping blitzes or other fun outings, I took pause and usually rejected the article or asked for a rewrite. Because while there's nothing wrong with having lots and lots of friends, many women don't have that extensive a friendship circle. I didn't want my readers to feel inadequate or somehow lacking. And, truth be told, I couldn't relate to that slant because I'm much more of a few-close-friends woman by nature.

I hold my few friends close to my heart, but gladly embrace the new friendships God brings my way.

And this group is one of those blessings. Even though we meet once a month, our little Gang of Five is grounded by a strong, unspoken support of each other.

betsey: Jane, do you know - I think you do - how many “friendship” articles I’ve read about these women who every year have reunions with their college friends at some resort? I would read these and think, Why don’t I have that? But I’m more content with my friend life than I’ve been in quite a while. This group is part of that. For me it’s a combination of the intellectual and emotional engagement.

(L to R) Louise, Betsey, Jane, Marty, and Virginia

jane: Don't you feel transformed in some way by each woman in our group, Betsey? I've been motivated by Louise's unbridled enthusiasm for reading and her gift for organization. I've been delighted by Virginia's wisdom and intrigued by her perspective. In fact, one of my favorite reads was Virginia's selection of portions of Ovid's Metamorphoses, because it was different and thought-provoking. I've been inspired by Marty's calm and beautiful dignity in the face of a serious trial; she's helped me see God's grace in fresh ways, a grace I've needed to grab hold of during the rough patches in my own life. And you, dear friend, with your insights and love of good writing, and your gift of hospitality that encourages my own.

Through all the friendship feasts and famines through which my journey's brought me, I've decided that in this second half of life, friends are even more crucial. No matter how hard it may be for us to make new friends as we age, we mustn't stop trying. In the end, 

God cares whether we're in a dry season or in a season rife with friendship.

When we invite him into our relational world, he moves on our behalf to provide what we need, when we need it most . . . if we have eyes to see it and hearts to welcome it!

Oh, I love the way our Topaz Literary Club explores culture and faith by discussing interesting books. It's fun and stimulating. But I'm convinced God brought TLC together for something more, and for that I'm so thankful. So here's to more books to read, more encouragement to give, and more tea and scones to consume come next December!

When Christmas Comes "Just the Same . . . "

betsey: Jane, maybe it’s the fact that it’s like 15 degrees outside as I write this, or the loss of brave Elizabeth Edwards, but it’s put me in a pensive, slightly melancholy mood. I was all set to share some cozy thoughts about Christmas and how we had a wonderful tea at my house on Saturday and the snow is so picturesque as seen through our big front window . . . but I got to remembering my most sorrowful Christmas. It was 1990. My dad got sick right around then. He was unsteady, couldn’t walk very well. It was heartbreaking at Thanksgiving, watching him attempt to carve the turkey as he always had done – but he was too shaky and so needed help. Things went downhill from there and he was finally admitted to the hospital for brain surgery.

For years early December – like now – was a sad time for me, because the onset of the holidays reminded me, This was when Dad got sick. I remember seeing a local production of The Nutcracker with a six-year-old Amanda and feeling distracted and unable to enjoy the sweet little dancers and familiar music, because Dad was, possibly, leaving us.

I know some people really struggle with Christmas blues, and that some churches have “Blue Christmas” services for those who feel less than “merry and bright” at the holidays. Do you ever have these feelings?

jane: Without a doubt. Fourteen years ago, almost to this day, Rich and I were sitting in a doctor's office finding out the results of a pathology report that told us he had cancer. I'll never forget that December. 

 

I vividly remember floating through holiday activities, such as my company's annual Christmas party, being “there” but not there, if you know what I mean. One evening I felt so feverish with fear that I leaned my forehead on the chilly window pane of our living-room picture window. As the cool glass eased my anxiety, I watched neighbors in their cars driving up and down our street, hurrying on with their busy, happy holidays. It seemed surreal. How could their lives continue to be so normal when ours were completed turned upside down?

Praise God, our story has a happy ending. But for years, I too found myself melancholy, distracted, at loose ends this time of year. It took me a few years to link those residual emotions to that particular December. 

betsey: It’s interesting rereading my book The Woman with Two Heads, which I wrote while Dad was sick. I have a chapter in it called “George Bailey Was Wrong,” where I talk about the so-called “Christmas spirit” and say that we don’t always feel that happy at Christmas and really, we should have that spirit year-round. I realize how that came from my sadness about my father. But I also think there are some years we actually need Christmas.
 

jane: I agree. We definitely need Christmas, but what we DON'T need is pressure to live up to some idealized concept of Christmas. If we're gut honest, most of us have some serious heartache or financial worry or relational challenge we're dealing with during this season. Even if things are rolling right along, I believe some kind of disconnect will always exist between our longings for a truly authentic season of peace, joy, and reconciliation and our reality. I suspect those longings are echoes of Eden that only heaven will fulfill.

betsey: A few days ago Fritz and I had to do a blitz decorating for the tea we had. We ordered a pizza (which we never do), put on one of our newer Christmas CDs, and started digging into the boxes he had brought up from the basement. I was amazed at how good I felt, how happy I was to be elbow-deep in Christmas mess and saying “hello” to my stuff again, and sharing it all with my husband. It was that joy that comes unbidden. I was tired and feeling burdened, but suddenly joy drifted in like a snowflake.

jane: Ah, joy that changes everything! The Joy to the World that pierces our particular mess and transforms it. That's the presence of Christ. And as I immerse myself in all the wonderful Christmas music that plays in my home, I find that joy growing, no matter what concerns of heart or soul I may be experiencing.

betsey: The line that comes to mind is from the end of How the Grinch Stole Christmas: “Christmas came just the same!” I got that book from relatives when I was about eight and remember reading it and being powerfully struck by that. Christmas came just the same. You’re right – you can get a little gleam, a glimpse, a peek through a door at this season. 

 

Christmas comes just the same. And we know why.

On the Road Again

jane: Well, we enjoyed a Thanksgiving without intrusive pat-downs or naked x-rays because we DROVE to Florida (22 hours, count 'em) with two dogs and three audio books to spend the holiday with our extended family. The closest we got to anyone touching "our junk" were a few unwelcome crotch sniffs from our Labrador retrievers.

How were your Thanksgiving travels, Betsey?

betsey: Crowded, of course. And I had an unpleasant surprise encountering the dreaded scanner.

I actually found myself blushing as I turned and raised my arms and imagined this creepy guy in a closed room somewhere in the airport, staring at all the bodies.

On the other hand . . . it’s better than those, um,“pat-downs” we’re hearing so much about. We’d prefer to drive but it just takes too long.

jane: With all this negative talk about the TSA, I'm dreading the next time I need to fly. Rich flies all the time for business, but so far he's avoided the scanner and hasn't experienced any embarrassing body searches. At least not yet.

We've driven to Florida and back so many times now, it's old hat. We always get snarled in Atlanta traffic. When we spot the first “Ron Jon Surf Shop” billboard in southern Georgia, we get excited. Oh, and we take a break at all kinds of truck stops, grabbing bottled water, packaged nuts, and 5-Hour Energy shots to keep us “in the zone.” 

Obviously car travel times really cut into our visits, but there's always some adventure happening on a road trip. On our way home from Florida last March, for example, we got lost following some directions for a shortcut that was to save us an hour -- but cost us one instead.

Without a map – we didn't think we'd need one with our GPS – we got discombobulated with all the “recalculating” going on.

We now have a travel mantra that goes like this: You have to go west to get east; you have to go north to get south.

Yet even with occasional travel snafus, road trips provide huge, uninterrupted chunks of time to catch up and focus on each other. After all, your audience is captive! During these lengthy drives, Rich and I reconnect in ways we can't always find the time to do at home.

betsey: You’re right. Fritz and I still play “Who Am I?” (inexplicably known in some quarters as “Botticelli”). We’re both pretty easily entertained by things we see along the route (“Look, the Toledo skyline!” or “There’s that Swap-o-Rama we always pass!”). We sing hymns, munch on snacks (love those packages of peanut butter and crackers), talk sports and childhood and theology and dreams for the future. And yes, at times we complain and bicker, for what is a road trip without griping?

jane: When I was a kid, my family took two-week vacations every summer. My dad painstakingly plotted out our route and bravely battled interstate traffic to show our family of four the national wonders of Yellowstone and Mesa Verde and the Grand Canyon. On these road trips, my younger brother and I typically fought over who crossed that invisible boundary between us in the backseat, whined "Are we there yet?" and engaged in enthusiastic games of "Pee-wee Punch" that led to tearful accusations of a maimed limb. I'd bring along Archie comics and Edgar Rice Burroughs novels to read.

With no iPods or built-in DVD players in cars back then, you could NOT escape from your family.

betsey: Archie comics! Yes! Jane, you probably remember the article I wrote for TCW about my first trip to New York City. I was about eight and we were visiting my grandparents. We didn’t vacation very much when I was very young, so this was huge – tunnels and tolls and turnpikes and staying in motels, the old-time kind where your door is right on the parking lot. Dad always wore a sport coat and tie and Mom wore a summer dress. We three kids packed into our Ford wagon, fought and snacked (some things never change) and colored. My brother would get carsick a lot. ‘Nuff said.

jane: Oh, I ALWAYS got carsick. My poor parents . . . and our poor car.

Road trips today are so different than those of my youth. Remember Stuckey's and those pecan roll logs? Now Starbucks is at almost every freeway exit. And Cracker Barrel is the Stuckey's of the twenty-first century! Oh, we used to stay at Howard Johnson motels and eat at their restaurant, HoJos.

betsey: My brother always got the “Tommy Tucker” platter at HoJos. I think it was turkey and mashed potatoes. No wonder he got carsick.

jane: But back to road trips, soon after I was married, my seventy-something Nana joined me for the seven-hour drive to the Twin Cities and back. We had a very sweet time together on that intergenerational junket. I relished every minute then, and I'll never forget it.

betsey: I absolutely adored my grandmother and would have loved to spend that time with her, but she died, too young, when I was ten. I do remember a road trip I took with my dad. He decided to drive me back to college after spring break, and it was just he and I in our VW bug in the pouring rain. One of the windshield wipers came loose and I had to stick my hand out the window and hold it much of the way down I-55!

jane: About four years ago, Sarah moved to Orlando, so she and I drove to Florida – yet again! – in her little Ford Focus, its backseat and trunk crammed with all her earthly possessions.

For 20-plus hours, we acted silly, listened to her Beatles CDs, laughed hysterically, snacked, got on each other's nerves, negotiated some scary traffic jams, then laughed some more.

I still treasure that time, because I knew with Sarah moving far from home, our lives would never be the same.

I have to admit, I'm always thankful when we arrive at our destination safely. But I'm also thankful for the opportunity road trips provide for additional bonding with my family.

betsey: And nobody’s groping you as you totter through security. But Jane, I just thought of a brilliant solution for the TSA: Labs! Friendly galoots poking and snuffling at you – why, we’d all be happy American travelers! What a country!