An Avocado on my Tree?

I do not like avocados. I realize this is tantamount to treason for a native Californian, but it's my eternal position on the subject. I was never persuaded by Rod and his beloved guacamole or any of my many friends who love and revere the avocado. But, the one hanging on my little Christmas tree this year makes me laugh and it's just perfect because it's not real!

The way it came to my tree today is a sweet and hilarious story. Two years ago the Johnston family stayed with me on their way to the Oregon Coast. We had a great time at a Mexican restaurant which is when fourth grader Mattie learned I do not eat avocados. We had quite a discussion about the slimy, weird, green stuff so imagine our collective surprise when we pulled into my garage after dinner and saw a big box holding a variety of things that said "Avocados" across the side! It was a Costco box that'd been there for months after carrying food I really do eat. Everyone laughed and Mattie remembered. She really remembered.

Today was a long work day so getting out of the car to fetch the mail in the wet, windy weather was a pain, but it was worth it to get a box from Texas. As soon as I hung the glass avocado with its bright, copper colored pit I sent a picture to Tressa, Mattie's Mom, who called me right back. "Mattie wants to talk to you" and away we went! This kid has more energy than all the lightbulbs in my house and she's a hoot. "Aunt Sherry, remember about the avocado box? I saw this ornament and told my Mom you had to have it!" And then she told me all about being the Snow Queen in the school play today, about how half the school is her friend (of course), about their Christmas trip back to Utah to see their family and ski, and how our dogs urp when their tummies are upset. It was a wild ride through a sixth grader's mind!

When she talked about seeing her family for Christmas, she added a little snippet I just about missed: "We'll see everyone, all our cousins, my Grandmas and Great-Grandma; everyone except our dear Aunt Sherry will be there." It was so sweet. I love being her Aunt by friendship!

This will be the first Christmas of my life without my Mom so to honor her I got a small living rosemary bush and decorated it with the beaded ornaments we've had through the years from her Mom, Grandma Edith. It's poignantly full of love and memories. The other small tree has a few of my favorite ornaments from the decades of Christmas with Rod - more poignant memories of love.

In grief, we build our memorials to those who were always going to be here, but are now somehow gone. We build these little tributes to invoke their memories, to call them back to us. But, new life, like the One in the manger, can only come when room is made for the surprising, for the new, for the joy, for the silly -  like a glass avocado from a wildly happy and loving little girl.

It brightens my season and makes me grateful for this Christmas - indeed different from any I've ever known.

Different in who is no longer here, but eternally the same in the One who is coming.

Thank-you, Tressa and Mattie, for making this real for me, this particular year, with the sparkly, glittery, shiny, bright avocado on my tree.

Security Check

"How much money does everyone get?" the adorable 5th grader asked me as I quickly scanned the directions for a game I'd never seen before. "Everyone gets $1 million and this is how it's doled out....." The boy playing the game with us was thrilled to hear he'd soon have a million bucks! The table where we sat was surrounded by the chaos of kids just being dropped off at church for almost three hours so their parents could shop for Christmas. "What kind of pizza is for dinner? What are we doing? Is there a movie? Which movie? What's the craft? Do we have to stay in this room?"  Susie kept giving us little piles of money and Joey was very eager to get started. Then, Susie stopped counting for a minute, looked at the three adults in the room, and said to me, "Oh, this is perfect! You're the grandma, Whitney's the mom, and Ann's the aunt! Perfect!" and she returned to counting. Then, it was time for pizza and gingerbread house decorating and everything else they did that evening. The game was put aside and never played. I venture to guess that Susie and Joey never gave it a second thought.

Susie's statement has stayed with me for the past two days. She counted three adults in the room, gave us roles with inherent responsibilities, and pronounced the situation "perfect." In other words, the chaotic scene in the room passed her security check and she felt safe.

In Genesis 19 Abraham and Sarah offered hospitality to three strangers who appeared at their tent. They served the best food they had and made them comfortable. In 1425 this scene was depicted by  the famous religious icon, The Trinity, by Andrei Rublev. Theologians have debated the meaning of the three visitors for centuries.  Angels or maybe the Trinity? In Rublev's depiction, the Holy Spirit gestures to the open space at the table as if to invite the observer to sit down, break bread, share life, and to become part of the magnificent God story. The story of Advent. The story of Christmas.

So, when I think of Susie's proclamation of perfection, I put myself in her place. Who's in the room with me?

In other words, how's my Advent security check going? How well am I listening? How well am I waiting? What am I anticipating? Do I understand the  magnificent invitation to join the Trinity at table this holy season?

Perfection is coming and it's already here.  The children know this better than any of us.

Limitless Boundaries

When I returned from the store, more things were gone. We were getting ready to move to the seminary for Rod's studies in 1988 and the apartment we were assigned was smaller than the condo we couldn't sell. I'd left him in charge of our pre-move sale, but when I got back I saw that familiar look on his face. "Who bought the twin bed?" I queried. "Oh, you know the kid next door doesn't have a bed so I gave it to his Mom." As the calculator in my head ticked off the amount of money we'd just lost, the faith in my heart was challenged. Here he was, telling me he'd given this away and that away because so and so really needed it. He was only practicing the one thing that had always been part of him: His pastor's heart. I, on the other hand, was trying to protect us, to ensure our safety, to make sure that the plunge into ministry with no guaranteed future would not ruin us. Ha! I sure had a great deal to learn in 1988.

Since then the learning, the teaching, the plunging into limitless boundaries has never stopped. The man I was privileged to call my husband and best-friend for almost 35 years had a heart with no limits. It was always I who called him to account, who questioned the veracity of his ideas and proposals. In the end I know he died with unquestioned faith and joy for all that he was able to do, to give.

And, that's the twist. The living and the giving. Where do the limitless boundaries start? What's kept within and what's kept out? What part of this call to give to our fellow human beings do we accept and what do we ignore? How do we decide? And, how do we mediate the consequences of each decision?

Like I do every morning, I just put Tahoe's warm, freshly dryer tossed towel on his bed for his enjoyment. In the moment it occurred to me that he's more comfortable than all the people burned out of their homes in Paradise, California. He may be more comfortable than the family living in the trailer on our church property.

Limitless boundaries -- I still hear Rod's voice "They really needed it..."

What's mine to do? What's my choice today? How will I sleep with the consequences tonight?