With Sunny Spells Later

Pansy and I have discovered food service and gift shops are commonly found in British churches.  This is true not only in massive cathedrals but in smaller local congregations as well.  Thus, a visit to a house of worship can readily provide food for the body as well as for the spirit.

In our travels in the U. K., we’ve enjoyed refreshment ranging from hot tea and pastry to salad plates and full meals with meat and vegetables in places as varied as the small Baptist church in Bath to cathedrals in Coventry and Southwark (the area across the Thames River from Central London).

The gift shops sell not only postal cards and other simple mementos, but also sacred music CDs, Bibles, prayer books, other inspirational reading materials, and even original art work.

St. Martin-in-the-Fields is a church we have often visited in London.  The present building was built in 1726, but worship was conducted on the site at least as far back as A. D. 1222 when it was, indeed, surrounded by fields.  But nowadays, St. Martin’s is at Trafalgar Square in the heart of the city and no longer “in the fields.”   We have been there for worship services and concerts and, not incidentally, the eatery in the basement, known as the Cafe in the Crypt.  

On a late afternoon near Christmas, we ducked in through St. Martin’s side door and down the steps of the Crypt to escape the winter chill.  In the cafeteria, we drank pots of tea and ate salads and soup, along with their incredibly delicious bread and butter pudding. 

St. Martin’s also has a reputation as a center for classical music dating back to its earliest years in its present building when both Handel and Mozart at different times performed at the church.  An orchestra based at the church was founded in the 1950s.  Known as the Academy of St. Martin-in-the-Fields, the orchestra has an international reputation for its recordings and live performances.

As we enjoyed our leisurely meal during that holiday season, the sound of an orchestra and  chorus rehearsing Christmas selections from Handel’s Messiah drifted down from the upper region of the building.   That oratorio lifts my spirits as few other musical selections can, any time of the year, but most of all at Christmas.

After we ate, we went into the adjoining shop where I discovered a painting by British artist Joylene Lowrance.

People in the painting were braving the rain, some with umbrellas aloft, others with no protection from the elements.   I was drawn to the artwork, but I found the title particularly striking: “With Sunny Spells Later.”  I felt the artist was giving a “reverse spin” to our usual hopes concerning the weather:  We like to think clear skies are the norm, with occasional interference from rainy spells.  But Ms. Lowrances’s name for her painting suggests the opposite.

Pansy and I have never been inclined to purchase original artwork, usually settling for inexpensive prints.  And we didn’t buy the painting in the Crypt shop.  But I couldn’t get away from the thought that “Sunny Spells Later” describes the normal emotional and spiritual climate in many lives, perhaps especially in the Christmas season.

Sickness,  accidents, relations with difficult people, job loss or transfer, and death in the family are more common than we like to admit.  When these or other trying times bring dark clouds our way, perhaps we question God.  This just isn’t the things that are supposed to be.

Sandra Hayward Albertson’s book, Endings and Beginnings, tells of the struggle as she and her husband faced his inoperable cancer and her adjustment after his death.  She earned a master’s degree while her twin sister and brother-in-law provided housing and saw after her two young daughters.  As Mrs. Albertson reflected on her husband’s illness, her writing suggest  the title of that painting:  

Likening his condition to a drama, she said healthy periods turned out to be an intermission between the main acts as the disease ran its natural course.  She said she attempted to provide longer intervals in the tragic drama which offered little by way of comic relief. 

Another writer, Pete Greig in God on Mute, tells of his thirty-two-year-old friend Mike whose daughter was born with a serious physical disability and probably will never walk.  To complicate life further, Mike has been diagnosed with degenerative arthritis which threatens his career as a hiking, camping, cycling instructor.  As Mike reviewed his situation, he said he used to think he had “some kind of divine right to happiness.”   He said he knew he would face “the occasional rough patch,” but, after a while, he found it easier to accept life as difficult and not blame God for the way life goes.

When it seems we are in endless periods of emotional and spiritual rain and storm, such as the foregoing quotes, we may echo the feelings of numerous psalms which are called laments.  Consider these excerpts from Psalm 39, one of the laments, in which the singer feels the Lord is sending difficulties upon him as he longs for “sunny spells”:

LORD, let me know my end, and what is the measure of my days; let me know how fleeting my life is! Behold, thou hast made my days a few handbreadths, and my lifetime is as nothing in thy sight. Surely every man stands as a mere breath! Surely man goes about as a shadow!  Surely for nought are they in turmoil; man heaps up, and knows not who will gather!

.  .  . Make me not the scorn of the fool! I am dumb, I do not open my mouth; for it is thou who hast done it. Remove thy stroke from me;  I am spent by the blows of thy hand.  When thou dost chasten man with rebukes for sin, thou dost consume like a moth what is dear to him; surely every man is a mere breath!  

Hear my prayer, O LORD, and give ear to my cry; hold not thy peace at my tears! For I am thy passing guest, a sojourner, like all my fathers. Look away from me, that I may know gladness, before I depart and be no more!  (Psalm 39:4-6; 9-12).

A modern-day echo of the psalm’s lament is from Tevye, the dairyman in the musical Fiddler on the Roof.  In one of his many conversations with the Lord, Tevye points to himself and his fellow Jews as God’s Chosen People. He wonders why God can’t choose somebody else for a change. 

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow’s poem, “The Rainy Day,” tells us, “Into each life some rain must fall,” but we may wonder why cloudbursts come as we long for “sunny spells later.”  Longfellow also said, “Some days must be dark and dreary.” 

The Advent season leading up to Christmas comes in the shortest days of the year, with much literal darkness.  In those days of lengthening night, as we read the Gospel accounts, Mary and Joseph are confronted by stormy times:  Mary is troubled when the angel tells her that she -- an unmarried woman who has never had relations with a man -- is to have a baby.  Joseph, likewise, is upset when Mary tells him the news.  He finds it difficult to believe she is pregnant by the Holy Spirit and not by a human father.  But angel messengers bring “sunny spells” by assuring, first Mary, then Joseph, that all this is the work of God.  So they see sunny spells as they travel for the census to Bethlehem, where their Son is born, announced by angels and visited by shepherds.

Christmas itself can bring emotional and spiritual stormy times which make us long for sunny spells later.  Perhaps some of the following scenarios describe our stormy spells:

*We spend time and energy making lists and then buying presents, perhaps spending more money than we we can afford for people who couldn’t care less for us or our gifts.

*We gain pounds as we eat and drink too much at dinners and parties, then face the New Year with resolutions to lose some of that excess weight.  Vows that seldom last till the end of January.

*We gather for festive meals or gift exchanges, apprehensive about whether Uncle Joe and Cousin Cynthia can peaceably remain in the same room for an hour or two.

*We shed tears of joy as dear ones arrive for a few days or maybe only a few hours.  Then we shed painful tears of goodbye when the visit ends, wondering when we will be together again. 

*We look around at empty seats, once filled by loved ones we cannot see again until the day when there will be no more parting.

*We see other chairs, left empty by younger members of the family serving in wars which have little meaning and no apparent ending.  Or those in long-term care.  Or those who live hundreds of miles away and are unable to make the trip with only one day off work.

*We sense the return of stormy times after the big meal and gift exchange as relatives and friends are called away by work schedules and resumption of classes.

But  when the rush and excitement are all over, perhaps, we are able to look back with gratitude for the sunny spells, short as they were.

Like Joseph and Mary, who see sunny spells after the Baby is born, after the shepherds return to their sheep, we can, with God’s help, determine to do the next thing.  

For the new parents, that next thing was to take their infant Son to the Temple for purification and dedication.  Then, just when Mary and Joseph began to enjoy sunny spells, the Wise Men came seeking the newborn King of the Jews. The men logically, but incorrectly, had gone to the palace.  This led King Herod to send out an order to kill all the little boy babies two years old or younger.  This, in turn, caused Joseph to flee to Egypt with Mary and the Baby.  But through it all, there were “sunny spells later” as God led the Holy Family to safety, away from the king’s threats.   

As we wait for sunny spells in our lives, we can pray for patience to wait for their arrival and for the faith to believe they will come.

These passages from Isaiah, which Christians see as fulfilled in the coming of Jesus, suggest “sunny spells” amid times of storm and darkness:

Arise, shine; for your light has come, and the glory of the LORD has risen upon you.  For behold, darkness shall cover the earth, and thick darkness the peoples; but the LORD will arise upon you, and his glory will be seen upon you. And nations shall come to your light, and kings to the brightness of your rising (60:2-3).

  The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light; those who dwelt in a land of deep darkness, on them has light shined. Thou hast multiplied the nation, thou hast increased its joy; they rejoice before thee as with joy at the harvest, as men rejoice when they divide the spoil. . .  .  For to us a child is born, to us a son is given; and the government will be upon his shoulder, and his name will be called "Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace." Of the increase of his government and of peace there will be no end, upon the throne of David, and over his kingdom, to establish it, and to uphold it with justice and with righteousness from this time forth and for evermore.  The zeal of the LORD of hosts will do this (9:2-3; 6-7).


This story is from my book, "Once for a Shining Hour: Reflections for Christmas," a collection of inspirational articles.  The book is available from www.amazon.com in paperback and in Kindle editions.

A Florida Christmas

[This story is from my book, Christmas Memories from Seven to Seventy, available through www.amazon.com in paperback and also in a 3-Disc CD set of the entire book, "read by the author."]

This is a great way to start the Christmas season,” I said as we

drove along I-75 in deep South Georgia. “Heading for Florida

with both of us half-sick.”

“Ted seemed to think it was pretty important that you get there

before Christmas,” Pansy replied from the back seat where she was

tending four-month-old Jonathan.

Ted was senior pastor of the church in Central Florida where

I was to serve as minister of religious education. We were on the

way to our new town and my new work.

“Yeah,” I said. “He wants us to start getting acquainted with

folks in the congregation in the round of holiday festivities. But

the week before Christmas is a terrible time to move, even in the

best conditions. Much less with you just getting over strep and me

bordering on pink eye.”

“We’ll make the most of it,” she said, with a smile. “But

we’re going to be the last minute getting a tree up and finishing

shopping.”

“Yeah,” I said. “Russell’s old enough this year to enjoy his

presents more than he did last Christmas when he was just two.”

I realized I was talking as if Russell were miles away instead

of on the seat beside me. He brought me back to the present and

presents when he asked, “What am I getting?”

“Hey!” I said. “You’ll have to wait a few more days to find out.

We’ll have Christmas in Florida this year when we get all moved

in.”

“When will we get to Florida?” he asked.

“It won’t be long,” I assured, knowing that my “not long” would

seem considerably longer to him than his “not long.”

Moving the conversation back to the adult level, Pansy said, "It's

hard leaving our own house in Atlanta and having to move into the church’s old house while our new house is being built.”

“Well, at least, we won’t have to pay rent while we’re waiting to get into the new house,” I said. “I’m just glad the church had the

house available.”

“But I hate to leave the first house we’ve ever owned,” she said.

“Us and the mortgage company,” I said.

“That house on McLendon was still our first house, after we had lived in apartments from the time we got married,” she said,

sounding as if she thought I didn’t quite appreciate the significance

of our leaving it behind.

Not willing to get off the reality jag, I said, “Unless we sell the

Atlanta house soon, we, along with two mortgage companies, will

own two houses.”

“Too true,” she said with a sigh. “But we haven’t had a chance to

look over this Florida house to figure out where to set up Jonathan’s

crib and what kind of room Russell will have and how the rest of

our furniture is going to fit the space.”

“And, just think,” I said. “Right now, that furniture is in a moving

van somewhere along this very stretch of interstate, following us to

Central Florida. It might be passing us any minute now.”

“Or maybe it’s on the same truck with some furniture going to Oregon or Montana which gets unloaded before ours,” Pansy

said.

“Now that’s a happy thought,” I said.

“Where’s Montana?” Russell wanted to know.

I said, “It’s way out west.”

“Are they taking our furniture way out west, Mom?”

“No, no, little love.”

“But you said…”

“I was just wishing we were already in our new house in Florida,” she explained.

“You said we’re going to live in an old house,” Russell said.

“We are, for a while,” Pansy said. “But we can all hope our new

house will get all built soon so we can move in and have a brand

new place to live.”

As the afternoon went along, we fell into silence. Russell had a

coloring book. Pansy was keeping Jonathan dry and well fed. I fell

into reflection:

It seemed the three of us were full of hopes and fears: hopes for

a new start in a new town and fears of the new and different as we

were leaving the familiar behind us. I thought of those contrasting

emotions and realized they are linked in the carol: “The hopes and

fears of all the years are met in thee tonight.” My private thoughts

continued. “I guess every generation is caught up in that mixture

of hopes and fears. If we remind ourselves of the hope of the

Christmas promise, that can push the fears away.”

About supper time, we arrived in our new town and found the motel where the church had arranged for us to stay for our first night or so as Florida residents.

Pansy and I were eager to see our temporary home, so while she settled the boys into the motel room, I called Ted and told him

we were in town. He said he would be over shortly.

When he arrived, I hardly gave him time for the pleasantries about whether we’d had a nice trip and hoping the motel room was

satisfactory before I raised the issue of seeing the house.

“When can we go over to the house where we’ll be staying?” I asked. “We need to see it before the moving van gets here so we

can map out where everything will go.”

“Actually, the house isn’t quite ready,” Ted began.

“We need to see it tonight.”

“A group of folks from the church is over there, even as we speak,” he said. “They’re mopping and sweeping and dusting for you so you won’t have to worry about that. We can go over there first thing in the morning.”

I looked at Pansy, knowing that, in her deliberate way of doing

things, she needed to see the place and mentally put together a

master plan, rather than rushing over the next morning, not knowing exactly when the movers would get there.

She didn’t say anything, but I did: “Ted, we really have to see

it tonight.”

“But the clean-up committee isn’t through yet,” he said, exuding

patience in every syllable.

“Couldn’t we just go by and get an idea of the floor plan?” I pleaded. “We really, really need to see the house at least a few

minutes tonight!!”

He sensed my urgency. It would have been hard to miss.

“I’ll go over there and see how things are coming,” he said.

Pointing to the phone in the motel room, I asked, “Couldn’t you call?”

“The phone hasn’t been connected over there,” he said. “You’ll

need to take care of that with the phone company. I’ll go over and

check with the committee.”

“I’ll go with you,” I said, eager to get this process moving.

“Why don’t you stay here with Pansy and the boys. You all can eat supper at the restaurant next door. The church has arranged to take care of your meals while you’re here at the motel.”

Seeing disappointment written all over my face, Ted said, “It would be better if you stayed here. The clean-up crew might feel unduly pressured if you showed up while they were still making the house more livable for you.” He paused as if to let that sink in. Then, “We wouldn’t want that, would we?”

How could I argue with that?

We had finished supper when the pastor returned with good news: “They’ve just about finished, so you can see your transitional

dwelling tonight. You all ride with me.”

He chauffeured us to the house. As we pulled up in the back yard, Pansy and I both noticed several trees with fruit. “What kind of trees are those?” we both asked.

“You’ll have your own little citrus grove,” Ted said. “There are

two or three orange trees and a lemon and a grapefruit.”

“Russell!” Pansy exclaimed. “Did you hear that? We have oranges growing right in our back yard!”

“Can I get one?” he asked.

We all got out of the car, and Ted reached into the branches of a tree. He pulled an orange and said, “Here’s an orange… just for

you… a present to welcome you to Florida.”

He handed the fruit to Russell, who took it and held it in both

hands.

As we went up to the back door, I wondered to myself, “Why is

he bringing us in through the back of the house?” Before I had time

to brood over that question, one of the deacons, whom we had met

on our exploratory visit with the church, opened the back door. He

shook our hands and reintroduced himself. Once we were inside a

small ante room, he pointed to a door next to the kitchen.

“You might want to look in this room first,” the deacon said.

Again, I was puzzled as to why we would start by looking in a small back room, but we opened the door to discover a pantry filled with canned veggies and staple goods.

“The folks at church wanted to give you a good old-fashioned

pounding to help you with groceries and tide you over till you have a chance to get acquainted with our local grocery stores,” the

deacon said.

Pansy and I were speechless as we looked at each other.

Embarrassed at my impatience on arrival, I didn’t know whether to

laugh or cry or just apologize.

I sputtered and stuttered, “This – this is wonderful. I’m – I’m at

a loss for words.” Turning to the pastor, I said, “When I insisted on

seeing the house tonight, I –I didn’t have any idea…”

“Of course you didn’t,” he said. “We’re glad we gave you a real

surprise.”

Genuinely pleased as well as surprised, Pansy recovered her voice and said, “There are enough basics to last us for weeks. This is certainly generous, and you’re right. It will be a big help while

we’re learning our way around town and getting accustomed to the

different grocery stores.”

We were ushered through the kitchen and into the room which

would become our dining area.

“You’ve mopped and swept and dusted all right. And then some,” I said, still overwhelmed at what the church had done.

Looking toward the corner of the dining room, Pansy exclaimed,

“There’s a crib that’s all set up!”

“Why not lay Jonathan in it to see how he likes it?” one of the women on the committee suggested. “There’s still more of the

house to see.”

Pansy placed Jonathan on the bed and gave him his bottle. “That

ought to keep him happy for a few minutes,” she said, pulling a

blanket over him and patting the bed.

“This will save us some time and effort,” she continued. “You’re

so very helpful. Things will get pretty busy when the van gets here

tomorrow.”

The deacon who was serving as our tour guide grinned and said, “Let’s look at the rest of the house.”

We saw a soft glow as we stepped toward the big front room which stretched all across the front of the house.

“Oh, my goodness!” I gasped as I saw the source of the glow.

In a corner of the room, a tree reached to the ceiling, its fragrance

filling the room. The tree was fully decorated with lights and

ornaments. Several colorfully wrapped presents were under it.

Russell dashed to the tree. He dropped his orange to the floor and forgot it as it rolled under the tree amid the presents. He gazed at the flickering lights as if in a trance, then fell to his knees and began to examine each package.

With our anxiety swept away by this kindness, I also temporarily

forgot about my potential pink eye, and Pansy seemed to have

gotten over her strep.

I tried to find words to thank the church members who had put

these surprises together: “Well, you certainly have cleaned up this

house, and I’d say we’ve really cleaned up as well, if you know

what I mean.”

As I looked into an array of friendly, smiling faces, I said again, but with different meaning, “This is a great way to start the Christmas season.”

Two Christmas Books

I've published two Christmas books, both available through www.amazon.com.
You can find fuller descriptions on my blog Write and Left.
Christmas Memories from Seven to Seventy, as the name suggests, is a collection of personal recollections spanning the years from elementary school on through to retirement.  All the stories are family-related: the large family I grew up in (two girls and three boys, plus a fourth boy who came along as I was graduating from high school) out around Sweetwater, Texas,  plus the family Pansy and I created (two sons: Russell and Jonathan).  Some stories are funny, one or two are sad, all nostalgic, and some inspirational.
The second book, Once for a Shining Hour: Reflections for Christmas, came out almost too late for Christmas 2011.  But it got some distribution in the Anderson, South Carolina, area where Pansy and I live.  This is a collection of inspirational essays which focus on the impact the birth, life, death, and resurrection of Jesus have had on the world.
Both books are in paperback, and Once for a Shining Hour is also available in a Kindle edition.  A 3-Disc CD set of the entire content of Christmas Memories is also available, "read by the author."

December 26 = New Year's Day

For those of us who celebrate Christmas, I suggest we should consider December 26 as New Year's Day.

After all, there's a variety of New Year dates in various cultures and religions, many based on the cycles of the moon (or lunar calendar) instead of the cycles of the sun (solar calendar):

* Chinese New Year usually comes between January 20 and February.

*Islamic New Year varies because it, too, follows the lunar calendar.

*Hindu New Year is normally on April 13 or 14, following the astrological (not astronomical) calendar.

*Many countries begin their New Year at the vernal equinox, the start of spring, usually March 21. This includes many parts of Central Asia, South Asia, Northwestern China, and some of the

countries formerly part of the Soviet Union.

*Jewish New Year, Rosh Hashanah, also is a movable date in September, depending on the lunar calendar but also on Jewish religious regulations.

*Ethiopian New Year is September 11 or 12 and marks the end of the summer season.

So, with these multiple dates, why would I want to add one more? Why do I think December 26 is better than the Good Ole American and European January 1?

Think of it this way:

Christians make a great deal out of Jesus's coming into the world. Under the influence of the early church, historians have calculated history in two categories: before and after the birth of Jesus. The commonly used system indicates events as BC (Before Christ) and AD (the Latin term Anno Domini, "the year of our Lord").

Increasingly, those two eras are being designated with reference to "the Common Era," with BCE (Before Common Era) replacing BC and CE (Common Era) replacing AD. Even so, this is still an acknowledgement of the way Christians have marked epochs of history.

Of course, I don't expect December 26 to take hold in the broad context of American life. After all, what would that do to the Bowl Games?

But here's the point: If the birth of Christ were as important to us as we like to say, it would revolutionize the way we look at time.

Luke's Gospel tells us, after the shepherds found the Baby in the manger, "they made known the saying which had been told them concerning this child; and all who heard it wondered at what the shepherds told them."

Matthew says, the Wise Men "departed to their own country by another way" after they found the Baby and His parents. Can we infer from this that their lives took a different direction?

If we were stopped in our tracks by angels the way the shepherds were that night in the fields outside of Bethlehem, if we were willing to travel the distance the Wise Men did in order to try to find the Newborn King of the Jews, the Day After Christmas in truth would be the start of a New Year.

So let's hear it for New Year's Day: December 26!