“When all the noise is gone there is only God.” ~Author Unknown
~~~~~
I came across that quote today as I was perusing my fellow blogger Lauren’s most recent post . It’s worth repeating. Those who believe there’s a God adhere to this truth, especially after the holiday hoopla has faded into background noises.
Christmas this year was different in too many ways to count. And not because cancer or lymphedema reared its ugly head again. Thank God for that! Caring friends reached out with Care Bear hearts, hugs, and hearths.
First, good friends who had recently moved welcomed me into their new abode. How they were able to decorate their home so beautifully remains a mystery to me, given the number of boxes they had to unload. As I settled into the rhythm of the household, the noise of children filled my ears as they squealed with delight at the abundance of presents: tiny tots pushing buttons and fitting parts together to assemble their newly opened treasures.
I hated to leave the festivities, but leave I must. Another social opportunity beckoned.
My arrival time couldn’t have been better planned on the second stop of the day. Just after family members arrived from a distance away my tires crunched the stones of my friends’ driveway. Inside their warm living room wrapping paper and tissue soon flew everywhere as dreams-come-true were unraveled and revealed. My gracious hostess had even bought me gifts, the first a wonderful microwavable teapot that eliminates the need for my tea kettle. The kettle will join the ranks of the already overflowing contents of Good Will boxes in my closet. The second gift box sported tea and a mug worthy of display on my bookcase.
After we tore up for recycling the boxes that bore our gifts so valiantly, we sat down to a delicious dinner served with homespun smiles. Before this day I hadn’t even set eyes on the sweet daughter-in-law of my hostess– and already we were good friends. After our tummies registered fullness we sat in front of the new flat-screen TV, mesmerized by the size of the images flashing quickly before our eyes. “Now dash away! dash away! dash away all!”
After a few hours, the main course settled, we dug into an assortment of pies: pumpkin, pecan, lemon meringue, apple. Coffee topped off this perfect ending to a perfect day.
But it wasn’t over.
I returned to my humble dwelling early in the evening, feeling a bit lonely. So I did another first: I went to the community hot tub alone. The old Jan never would have taken that social risk; she would have felt self-conscious and exposed. But not the new me!
When I reached the spa, a man and his wife were just getting out. After spending some time enjoying the heat and bubbles by myself, I was about to call it a night when a guy came through the gate. I decided to stay. We spent a good while soaking in that tub while sharing philosophies. Suddenly I panicked. I asked God how this was going to end: would I be rescued by a phone call or by someone else coming to the hot tub? God answered as I heard footsteps approach the entrance. Another couple decided to finish their Christmas evening off in hot-tub style, allowing us to end our long conversation that involved dodging wafts of steam.
Yesterday God gave me the best Christmas present ever (and it was not adorned with silk ribbons, boxes from Tiffany, or lace): my worth as His child, my solace from grief, my sense of belonging, my femininity, the sense of His overwhelming presence. No, I didn’t tell the man I had breast cancer, that I was missing essential parts, that my left arm had issues. Why ruin the moment, why break the spell for a gal who doesn’t fit Cinderella’s profile picture?
The evening ended with my watching a silly movie, laughing myself into a tizzy. And then it was quiet. The noise was gone. Only God remained.
Have a splendid 2012, with blessings galore.
Was your Christmas memorable? If you were grieving, how did you manage the holiday?
~~~~~
I came across that quote today as I was perusing my fellow blogger Lauren’s most recent post . It’s worth repeating. Those who believe there’s a God adhere to this truth, especially after the holiday hoopla has faded into background noises.
Christmas this year was different in too many ways to count. And not because cancer or lymphedema reared its ugly head again. Thank God for that! Caring friends reached out with Care Bear hearts, hugs, and hearths.
First, good friends who had recently moved welcomed me into their new abode. How they were able to decorate their home so beautifully remains a mystery to me, given the number of boxes they had to unload. As I settled into the rhythm of the household, the noise of children filled my ears as they squealed with delight at the abundance of presents: tiny tots pushing buttons and fitting parts together to assemble their newly opened treasures.
I hated to leave the festivities, but leave I must. Another social opportunity beckoned.
My arrival time couldn’t have been better planned on the second stop of the day. Just after family members arrived from a distance away my tires crunched the stones of my friends’ driveway. Inside their warm living room wrapping paper and tissue soon flew everywhere as dreams-come-true were unraveled and revealed. My gracious hostess had even bought me gifts, the first a wonderful microwavable teapot that eliminates the need for my tea kettle. The kettle will join the ranks of the already overflowing contents of Good Will boxes in my closet. The second gift box sported tea and a mug worthy of display on my bookcase.
After we tore up for recycling the boxes that bore our gifts so valiantly, we sat down to a delicious dinner served with homespun smiles. Before this day I hadn’t even set eyes on the sweet daughter-in-law of my hostess– and already we were good friends. After our tummies registered fullness we sat in front of the new flat-screen TV, mesmerized by the size of the images flashing quickly before our eyes. “Now dash away! dash away! dash away all!”
After a few hours, the main course settled, we dug into an assortment of pies: pumpkin, pecan, lemon meringue, apple. Coffee topped off this perfect ending to a perfect day.
But it wasn’t over.
I returned to my humble dwelling early in the evening, feeling a bit lonely. So I did another first: I went to the community hot tub alone. The old Jan never would have taken that social risk; she would have felt self-conscious and exposed. But not the new me!
When I reached the spa, a man and his wife were just getting out. After spending some time enjoying the heat and bubbles by myself, I was about to call it a night when a guy came through the gate. I decided to stay. We spent a good while soaking in that tub while sharing philosophies. Suddenly I panicked. I asked God how this was going to end: would I be rescued by a phone call or by someone else coming to the hot tub? God answered as I heard footsteps approach the entrance. Another couple decided to finish their Christmas evening off in hot-tub style, allowing us to end our long conversation that involved dodging wafts of steam.
Yesterday God gave me the best Christmas present ever (and it was not adorned with silk ribbons, boxes from Tiffany, or lace): my worth as His child, my solace from grief, my sense of belonging, my femininity, the sense of His overwhelming presence. No, I didn’t tell the man I had breast cancer, that I was missing essential parts, that my left arm had issues. Why ruin the moment, why break the spell for a gal who doesn’t fit Cinderella’s profile picture?
The evening ended with my watching a silly movie, laughing myself into a tizzy. And then it was quiet. The noise was gone. Only God remained.
Have a splendid 2012, with blessings galore.
Was your Christmas memorable? If you were grieving, how did you manage the holiday?