America of the Free!

Oh, if we could only see again the AMERICA of the FREE!

The America our forefathers fought for it to be.

She took in all people who were tired, and burdened, and poor,

Expressing the LOVE of the Son, and made Him the Core.

America, the Beautiful! America, my home sweet home!

She gives love and life to all and her flag is flown.

America, “Land of the Free and Home of the Brave”.

“This Land is our Land”, and God’s way should pave!

So has it come to that time to “turn the other cheek”?

For there are many in this land that are not so meek.

For many are offended of the Christian belief,

Those that hate the Son of God and give Him grief.

A Jew to sue because, in an airport, a Christmas tree stands?

An Atheist gets mad for The Ten Commandments in our land?

My heart cries to God because of those who can not see,

That the love of Christ is for ALL MEN, to set them free.

So where are the George Washington’s and the Abraham Lincoln’s?

Where are the men of God that believe in those freedoms?

Where are the Brave that can run this country as it should be?

Where are they that need to help this country to remain free?

For now we turn to the One and Only who will give us solace.

For Christ had even said, “He who is not against us, is for us.”

And we believe and trust in God that this land will remain FREE.

For God is the core of THIS land, for you and for me!

I imagine that on rainy days that God is always crying

For now He has to see His creation fighting and dying

For an endless cause of men having it their way

Instead of trusting God in what His Word did say

That Christ would be sent to all so to live a free life

and remove our selfish ways of this endless strife.

A babe in a manger was sent from God to lead the way

That we CAN live in harmony, and peace, NEVER to stray!

Brenda

December 11, 2006

The Real Spirit of Christmas

PRESIDENTIAL QUOTE

Portrait courtesy of the Library of Congress.

Christmas is not a time nor a season, but a state of mind. To cherish peace and goodwill, to be plenteous in mercy, is to have the real spirit of Christmas.
— Calvin Coolidge

Michael Richards, Let Loose

Andrea Bianchi
Newsletter Editor
ChristianityToday.com


The first—and last—time I went to a comedy club, I was offended.

And undoubtedly, so were audience members of every other religious, ethnic, and political affiliation in the room.

Because unfortunately, comedians often forgo political correctness—and sometimes even common decency—for the sake of getting a good laugh. But no one was laughing last month when comedian Michael Richards, better known as Seinfeld's quirky Kramer, let loose an indecent tirade of racial slurs in front of a stunned comedy club audience—and a cell phone capturing it all on video.



MORE!!!

Luisa Piccarreta

Last of all, but not least, is the special connection of Luisa to Jesus, Mary and St. Joseph as expressed in many of her writings. One of the most beautiful is from Christmas 100 years ago. It is as follows:

Volume 4- December 25, 1900

ON CHRISTMAS EVE, LUISA FINDS HEFSELF IN THE CAVE AT BETHLEHEM WITH THE MOST HOLY VIRGIN MARY

Finding myself in my usual state, I felt myself leave my body and after wandering around I found myself in a cave, and I saw the Queen Mamma who was giving birth to Baby Jesus. What a marvelous wonder! It seemed to me that both the Mother and the Son were transformed into the purest Light, but in this Light you could clearly discern the human nature of Jesus, which served as a veil to cover the Divinity that He contained within Himself, so that, tearing open the veil of human nature, He was God, and covered with this veil, He was man, and this is the wonder of wonders: God and man, man and God! Who, without leaving the Father and the Holy Spirit, for true Love never disunites, comes to live with us and takes on human flesh. Then it seemed to me that the Mother and the Son, in this supremely happy moment, became spirits, and without the slightest difficulty Jesus emerged from the Mother’s bosom, both of them overflowing with an excess of Love. That is, these Most Holy Bodies were transformed into Light, and without the slightest obstacle, Jesus’ Light emerged from within the Light of the Mother, both One and the Other remaining whole and intact, returning then to their natural state. But who could describe the beauty of the Little Baby, who at the moment of His birth shone with the rays of Divinity even through to the outside? Who can tell of the beauty of the Mother, who was completely absorbed by these Divine rays? And Saint Joseph, who seemed to me not to be present at the act of birth, but who remained in another corner of the cave, quite absorbed by this profound Mystery; even if he did not see with his corporeal eyes, he saw perfectly well with the eyes of his soul, for he remained enraptured in sublime ecstasy. Then, at the moment the Little Baby emerged from the Light, I wanted to rush over to take Him into my arms, but the Angels held me back, telling me that the honor of holding Him first belonged to the Mother. Whereupon, the Most Holy Virgin, as if shaken, turned inwards and, from the hands of an Angel, received the Son into Her arms, and She held him so tight, in the enthusiasm of Her love, that it seemed She wanted to return Him inside of Her. Then, wanting an outlet for Her ardent love, She set him to suckling at Her breasts. At that moment, I remained perfectly still, waiting to be called, so that I would not receive another reproach from the Angels. Whereupon, the Queen said to me:

“Come, come take your Beloved, and delight in Him also and show Him your love,”

As She spoke I drew close to the Mamma and She put Him in my arms. Who can describe my happiness, the kisses, the hugs, the tenderness I showed Him? After I showed my love for a while, I said to Him:

“My Beloved, You have nursed the milk of our Mother, give some to me.”

And He, quite agreeing, poured part of this milk from His mouth into mine, and then He said to me:

“My beloved, I was conceived in sorrow, born in sorrow and died in sorrow, and with the three nails that they crucified me, I nailed down the three powers: intellect, memory and will, for those souls who yearn to love Me, allowing them to remain drawn completely to Me, because original sin had rendered them weak and scattered from their Creator, without any restraint.”

Kare and Mare at Christmas 2006

The Empty, Little Stocking

by Marianne Coyne

One cold, Christmas Eve, in a town way up north, in a little house, on a little mantle, over a little fireplace in a little room, hung an empty, little stocking. Christmas Eve was his favorite time of year, when he anxiously awaited Christmas day; imagining all the delightful things he would be filled with. But year after year on Christmas day the little stocking was still empty.

He had heard about other stockings, and the wonderful things which filled them up to their hearts content. Things like apples and petit fours; oranges and dolls; trucks and toy airplanes; candy canes and harmonicas; playing cards with delicate pictures on them; horns to blow; hand-knitted stockings, scarves, and mittens; and sometimes, yes, sometimes even a puppy beaming over the stocking's brim! The little stocking puffed out just thinking about it all. He wished he could be filled with those things. "Oh my!" he exclaimed to himself. "I want things, too. I want to be filled until I can't be filled anymore. I want to be filled to my heart's content with things, things, and more things. I want to be stuffed with all that stuff," he chuckled to himself. Then with a deep, long sigh he wondered what Christmas day would really bring. Would he finally be filled, or would he remain an empty, little stocking forever?

Through the window he could see the snow gently coming down, and he shivered his little red toe closer to the fire for what remaining warmth was left from the dying embers. The last glow of firelight shimmered on the small crèche in the corner of the room, and the empty, little stocking caught a glimpse of the Christ child in the manger. He wondered how the Christ child could be happy without the stuff and the things he himself wanted to be filled with. The empty, little stocking began to pray. "Dear God," he said, "I'm just a little stocking, I know, but surely you have something for me. Please fill me up with all the wonderful things you have. Fill me to my heart's content."

Hour after hour passed away. The little clock on the little mantle chimed half past eleven. Christmas day was almost here; and the empty, little stocking, tired from his anticipation, began to nod. But before sleep could completely take the little stocking, he swayed. Something like a breeze startled him alert. It brushed by him again, not like a breeze at all; more like a breath. Yes, a deep, long breath, filling him up with the most wonderful sensation. "Oh," thought the empty little stocking, "God is answering my prayer. He's filling me up with such wonderful things!" It was true. God had heard his prayer, and He was filling the little stocking with such glorious things. He filled him with love; he filled him with faith; he filled him with kindness and mercy, hope and charity; he filled him with joy, peace, and truth ~ and love. Did I mention love? God filled the empty, little stocking with so much love that he bulged twice his size.

It was still snowing outside, but the little stocking didn't feel chilled. The Breath even breathed new life into the dying embers, and the renewed fire left the room warm and aglow. The little stocking was jubilant with his newly acquired gifts. They may not have been toys, or instruments, or delectable edibles like the other stockings had; no, the little stocking was filled with something far more valuable ~ the very essence of God. If it weren't that the little stocking was so joy-full he would have been sad for the other poor, little stockings. Yes, he felt very sorry for them, because the 'things' he was filled with couldn't be stolen away like all the other things could be ~ but what he had could be shared. That made the little stocking very happy, indeed. You see, the empty ~ I mean ~ the full, little stocking in a town way up north, in a little house, on a little mantle, over a little fireplace in a little room, discovered something very important that Christmas Eve; that it wasn't such a bad thing to be empty after all. Being empty left more room for God to come in with all of His Glory ~ and that's a good thing!

From then on, every Christmas day, the little stocking thanked God for all His gifts, and come what may, he knew he would never be empty again.

The End

Copyright©2006 Marianne Coyne

The Christmas Pin Society, Epilogue

To view Chapters Four, Five, and Six, please go to December 2006 Archives and for Chapters One, Two, and Three, please view in November 2006 Archives.

The Christmas Pin Society

by Marianne Coyne

Copyright©2006 Marianne Coyne

Epilogue

Two years later God's amazing grace still echoes through our hearts. Billy's surgery was a great success. A strong and healthy twelve year old, he performs wonders for his Jr. High School basketball team. Once each month, at his local hospital, he offers encouragement to other young children recovering from surgeries. Every now and again, when we are in the same room together, he will wink at me; and knowing what he's thinking of, I'll wink back.

Angel enjoys utilizing her public relations abilities to enhance the activities of our local schools. She has rediscovered her enthusiasm and vim.

Five months after the auction, Belinda and Paul came back to Evergreen to stay. They became foster parents to six year old, Christine, and her three year old brother, Jack. One year later those two beautiful and loved children became permanent members of the family. Belinda and Paul were never happier.

To the joy of Elizabeth, Hannah and Harold renewed their wedding vows and their lives together as husband and wife. They have a gracious granddaughter, Elsie, and another grandchild on the way.

Kathy's quirky and fun loving nature is the delight of her three grandchildren, who keep her very active. When she has all three together I often wonder who will tire out first. But as busy as she is, she still has time for her "old" friends.

Ben and Mary gave Frank and I another cherished grandchild, Esther Anne. Robert adores his sister, and is a capable big brother with a well-spring of helpful hints. Ben is reactivating his big brother role toward Isabel, as she prepares for her wedding to children's books author and illustrator, Jonathan Ashton.

As for the Christmas Pin Society ~ well, it has a new member ~ Joanne Harris; and instead of meeting once a year, we meet once a month. However, now our luncheons have taken on a different goal. Along with our food contributions to the lunch, we also bring a financial donation; and making note during the year of any persons or organizations in need, each Christmas give the collected total to where it is most needed. Now every Christmas is a fruitful one. It's the least we can do for Him who gave his most.

Oh...and yes, we still collect Christmas pins.

THE END~

The Christmas Pin Society, Chapter Eleven

The Christmas Pin Society

by Marianne Coyne

Copyright © 2006 Marianne Coyne

Chapter Eleven

The auction was well on its way. The response could only have been God-sent. Each comely pin was finding a new home; not only within the community, but due to Angel's gifted marketing skills, in other states, too. We had no idea there was such a serious interest in Christmas pin collecting. Likewise, in connection with the reason for the auction, it gave people a chance to combine hobby with humanity; passion with compassion.

One of Angel's pins sold for $180, one of Kathy's sold for $220, and so it went. It was wonderful! In the midst of our amazement, another joyful scene caught my eye. Hannah came into the building with Harold by her side. I walked over to greet them. My happiness in seeing her there was matched only by seeing her with Harold.

She placed the little bundle in my hands. I knew what it contained. We walked up onto the stage, and added them to the collection. That's when I saw it. As we placed Hannah's remaining pins on the table, I noticed one I had not noticed before; set plainly in the center of the others. I was sure it had not been there earlier when we had carefully arranged and catalogue-matched each pin. Noticing my puzzling countenance, Kathy, Angel, and Belinda joined Hannah and me on stage. As the auction continued, I asked them if they knew whose it might be. No one knew, but each admitted they had not seen it there during the set-up. I questioned whether one of the guests could have placed it on the table during the time they had come up to view the pins and to take a catalogue for the auction. But Belinda noted that we were sitting with the pins, carefully watching and greeting people; and the crowd at the table was never so large at one time that one of us would not have noticed something unusual. She was right, and we did not leave the stage until shortly before lunch was served. No, I remember, the pin was not there before.

We looked at each other, then again at the pin. It was an exquisitely carved image of the baby Jesus nestled in his manger. It was small, but carved with such intricacy as to see every fold of the swaddling, every delicate feature on the face; and one could almost smell the sweet hay. It looked like marble; not new or old, but timeless. It hadn't the coldness associated with most stone, but was warm to the touch. The craftsmanship was incomparable; even the clasp was carved as one piece with the design. I had never seen anything like it.

The bidding continued during our whispered discussion, and my friends left the stage to go back to our table. My attention was inexplicably distracted from the dilemma. I looked out at all the wonderful people; the Harris', enjoying the day with hopes as high as heaven; our families; the community center volunteers; doctors; business owners; lawyers; council members; teachers; and many unfamiliar faces with generous hearts. I can't forget my friends; my dear friends, who not only appreciated my dream, but helped it to manifest into a glorious tribute to love. I was humbled by the experience and sensation of it all.

I contemplated the worth of the pins as I watched them being placed into the hands of others. Certainly, their value did not lie so much in their original cost; although some were purchased at "finer" department stores, most were bought for only a dollar or two. Their worth, instead, lay in their meaning for the giver and receiver; the thought and effort behind choosing the perfect one for a specific person, and the bond of friendship they symbolized. Yet, now their worth lay in what they meant to a young family ~ hope and new life.

While in my distracted thoughts, the auction ended. Not one of our pins remained behind; each found a new home and a new purpose. Arising to the podium, I offered a final "thank you" to everyone who had participated in this vision, making it a tremendous success. Before leaving the stage, I introduced the Harris', who wished to say a few words of appreciation. Afterward, the room was filled with excited voices, while we waited for Mr. Johnstone, bank officer in charge of the account for Billy Harris, to give us a tally of today's efforts.

Suddenly, I remembered the mysterious pin, but before I could retrieve it, Billy came running up to me with breathless excitement. "I sold a pin!" he exclaimed, eyes wide, and hands clutching his bounty. "What pin?" I asked. "The pin of baby Jesus. Look! He gave me cash!" "Who gave you cash, Billy? Who did you sell the pin to?" I tried to remain calm through his excitement. "A man. He told me to get the special pin on the table, because he wanted to buy it." "What did he look like?" I asked. "He was young, and dressed the best I've ever seen. His eyes and face were so...clear!" he answered. I thought that was a peculiar way to describe someone. "When I gave it to him, he smiled at me and told me God loved me," he continued, "And I said I knew, and he laughed. Look, Mrs. Perillo, look at the money he gave to me!" Billy loosened his protective grip, and handed me five crisp, clean one thousand dollar bills! They were warm, and I didn't know if I should attribute that to Billy's tight hold, or to the possibility that they just "came off the press". "Where did he go?" was my last question. Billy looked around at the groups of people mingling with each other. "There he is," he pointed earnestly past a group in front of us. I saw him for only a second as he turned back and smiled, then he was gone; he went away. I don't mean he got lost in the crowd, or left the building; just...away. "Did you see, Mrs. Perillo?" Billy asked, in a quiet, awed voice. "Yes, Billy, I saw," I answered in the same manner. "This is our secret now," he said looking up at me. I looked at his slightly pale face and believed we did see the same thing. I stroked his hair, and putting my hand on his shoulder, I replied, "Yes, Billy, just yours and mine." He winked at me. I winked back. "Let's bring this money to Mr. Johnstone," I said.

After adding in the sum we gave to him, Mr. Johnstone went onto the stage to announce the outcome of the auction. He cleared his throat, leaned into the microphone, and proclaimed that the blessed event raised ~ I could feel the breath of the whole room stop ~ $67,000! Everyone cheered.

A woman approached Mr. and Mrs. Harris, "This is the gift under my family's tree this year," she said, placing her hand on Billy's head. She showed them the Christmas tree pin she bought, studded with beautiful green stones. She added, "May your boy grow to be strong, healthy, and a man for God." she hugged them, and walked away.

The Christmas Pin Society, Chapter Twelve

The Christmas Pin Society

by Marianne Coyne

Copyright © 2006 Marianne Coyne

Chapter Twelve

That Christmas gave us a renewed appreciation of friends and family; of life itself. It was the Christmas which once more privileged a community with Angel's extraordinary heart and talents; the Christmas Belinda and Paul announced their plans for the near future to come back permanently to Evergreen, and their decision to become foster parents; the Christmas Hannah and Harold were able to spend together as a whole family again; the Christmas Kathy helped many dreams come true, while renewing and expanding an old tradition with friends. For me it was the Christmas in which gifts of realized hopes and answered prayers became far more valuable than any bow-topped present under the tree.

That Christmas was the most fruitful Christmas I could remember in a long time. Perhaps, because we didn't just celebrate Jesus' birthday, rather his birth; we didn't just act out the season, rather put the season into action. I marvel at the humor of God. Only He could gather together five middle-aged women with humbled efforts and a mere collection of trinkets and use them in such an extraordinary way to achieve an even more extraordinary outcome. Only God could take a meager gift and make it fit for a king; the little King in a humble cave.

I thought of that sweet bundle lying in his manger; and I thought maybe ~ just maybe this Christmas, instead of crying out in the dark night of a cold world, he lay content with the gift, gurgling and cooing like a babe with a tummy warm and full.

Three weeks earlier, as I reminisced with my pins, longing for the way things used to be with a hope planted in my heart for so many, I could not have imagined that God's faithfulness would fall into place with such harmony; perfectly and timely. Thinking on all these things, I too, was content; content in Him.

But, for six, small-town women, that was not the last fruitful Christmas. It was the first of many more to come.

The Christmas Pin Society, Chapter Ten

The Christmas Pin Society

by Marianne Coyne

Copyright © 2006 Marianne Coyne

Chapter Ten

Unbeknown to anyone, Ben had been counseling Harold for the past year. Harold had decided that he needed to know more about himself before having an intimate relationship again. Being mentored by someone he watched grow up, not to mention half his age, did not seem uncomfortable for Harold. Knowing Ben for so long was precisely why he chose him. Ben had wanted to be a marriage counselor since he was fourteen. In childhood he bore an innate quality of listening with a loving and caring heart. His remarkable perception of life and the people who lived it came from a well of wisdom drawn from that place within each of us wherein dwells the divine. We used to call him an "old soul".

Although Ben had been practicing for only four years, these qualities, together with his positive outlook and spiritual centeredness, helped to create widespread respect for himself; and an above average success rate for those whom he helped.

After a year of serious contemplation, prayer, and consultation, Harold felt that this December 18th was a good day to bring him closer to where he had hoped he would be. As we ate our lunch, enjoying company and food, Harold, like a young school boy, was driving across town with the hope of seeing someone he had not been able to stop thinking of.

Three more blocks and he would be there. His throat felt dry, and he thought how foolish it was for him to feel this sort of nervousness at his age. Snow began to fall as he drove up to the house. His mind wandered while he sat quietly in the car. He wasn't completely sure what sort of response he would receive; would she laugh at him, would she understand his motives, would she even open the door?

He shook his head to clear his thoughts, and looking into the rearview mirror asked, "Are you a man, or a mouse?" After all, he knew she was the love of his life from the first moment he met her. He took a deep breath, walked up to the house, and rang the bell. The door opened with a jingle from the bells on the wreath. "Harold," was the composed, yet slightly surprised and confused response from the voice across the threshold. "Hello, Hannah," he replied. There was an awkward pause as Hannah searched his face. They had spoken occasionally, and every now and again ran into each other in town; but she sensed something different today. Harold broke the silence, "Would you like to go for an ice cream?" Hannah glanced past him into the snowy background. "Ice cream?" she repeated, with a slight questioning-your-sanity inflection. It was the same question he had asked her for their first date. Hannah's eyes revealed a smile was about to appear. "Isn't it a bit cool for that?” she asked. "Well," Harold replied roguishly, "you always said I could talk you into anything." "Within reason," Hannah quipped humorously. Before she could respond further, Harold urged, "Come on, Hannah, get your coat. We can do whatever you want." He paused, then urged again, "Hannah, please. Come on." He sounded twenty-three again; his voice was gentle and coaxing. His mannerisms stirred up memories and emotions in her, and she almost gave in. But they weren't twenty-three anymore, and Hannah's youthful smile faded with a question, "Why?" "Because I miss you," was the reply, "And I'm hoping things between us can be better." "Isn't it a little late for that?" she asked. "It's only as late as you want it to be, Hannah," his voice was low and serious. Hannah had dreamed of this moment for a long time. She had fantasized it happening almost exactly this way. Now that it had, she wasn't sure how she should respond. He sounded sincere, she thought, but it was her mind now which began to wander; what if it didn't work, what if things didn't get better, what if they get hurt all over again, what if... She slowly closed the door to him, and leaning against it, a tear streamed down her cheek. Hannah was bewildered; her heart wanted to hold him, but her fear seemed too great.

Harold stood on the porch facing the door. She closed it; no word, nothing, just closed it. It was not what he had expected, and his heart sank. If she had at least told him to "go to hell" he would have known what she felt, but ~ nothing! He slowly stepped off the porch. It was still snowing. He hadn't noticed the cold earlier, but now it was deeply felt, and he pushed up his coat collar around his neck. As he stepped down the walkway, he heard a jingle sound behind him. He turned to see Hannah, her coat snuggled about her as she moved quickly towards him. Her smile greeted his. She stood facing him with a small bundle in her hands. "I would like to go somewhere," she said. He put his arm around her, as if to shield her from the cold, and helped her into the car.

The Christmas Pin Society, Chapter Nine

The Christmas Pin Society

by Marianne Coyne

Copyright © 2006 Marianne Coyne

Chapter Nine

December 18th finally arrived. I awoke early and more easily than usual from an unexpected, but welcomed good night's sleep. While I showered and dressed, Frank had gone downstairs to put on the coffee and start breakfast. Before joining him, I opened my Christmas pin box, and took one last look at the glistening ornaments. I picked out the criss-crossed candy cane pin, and pinned it just under my left shoulder. It stood out cheerfully against my cream-colored sweater. I closed the box and whispered a prayer that God's will be done today. Placing the box with Hannah's, I went downstairs.

In their continued efforts to help me during this busy time, Frank and Isabel served breakfast. It was delicious and greatly appreciated. We took this time to relax and enjoy the peace of the morning. Frank opened the paper where there appeared one last reminder of today's event. For a brief moment I wondered how many people would come. One of the good things about living in a small, northeastern town like Evergreen is that this is home for the holidays. Children and grandchildren flock back from all over the country to enjoy the Christmas of their childhood memories, and to be re-acquainted with "old" friends.

Lunch was planned for twelve-thirty, followed by the auction. I arrived at the community center at ten o'clock to assist with any last minute details, and to help place the pins on the display table. Everything looked grand. Crystal Schulen was an energetic, good-humored woman who was perfectly suited to her job as the community center's supervisor. Her organizational skills allowed for many activities to be enjoyed there; exercise classes, seminars, senior activities, teen socials, and the like. Today she had once again proven her abilities; thirty tables were set for lunch, a decorated Christmas tree echoed the festivities and volunteers were busily preparing the auction area on the stage at the front of the main room. Crystal had everything under control; and her husband, Jack, offered his oratory skills as auctioneer.

As the food began to arrive at the back entrance to the kitchen, I couldn't help but admire the wonderful people of this town; the way they pulled together to help make this event the best it could be, though I shouldn’t be surprised. This was not the first time the people of Evergreen volunteered their hearts and talents to help others, and most likely it would not be the last.

My friends arrived and joined me on the stage where our collection of pins laid displayed and ready to be viewed by incoming guests. Our families were gathered together to enjoy the festivities and to bring moral support. The local papers and television stations sent cameramen and journalists for photographs and interviews covering the event. The din of the hustle and bustle surrounded me as my attention rested on my loving friends; cheerful in mind and heart, all wearing the first pins given to them. These we decided not to part with, as they represented the memories of how our tradition began, and the foundation on which this special moment was built. The jewelry was lavishly displayed, and the four of us took pleasure in reminiscing who gave what to whom. But I could not help thinking of our missing friend. I said a little prayer for Hannah; for her heart, her life. I noticed Elizabeth and Andrew sitting with my family. She waved, and I motioned to her to stay seated as I left the stage and made my way towards their table. I bent down and gave her a hug. "I'm glad you came, dear," I said. She smiled, "I wouldn't have missed this. Besides, I'm here for mom, too."

As I walked to the table I would be sharing with Angel, Belinda, Kathy, and the Harris', I thanked God for the abundant attendance. Nearly every table was filled. I joined the others already seated. "God's grace is here today," Joanne Harris observed. Her husband, Rob, was seated to her left and she was holding his hand. "We're going to eat now!" exclaimed Billy, as the food made its entrance. He rubbed the palms of his hands together in anticipation; his face bright and smiling.

When all were served, a hush came over the room as our pastor stood on the stage to give thanks, and ask for God's blessing on this enterprise. The room filled with a resounding "Amen".

God's grace was there that day; and except for Ben, no one here would have privy to its great creative force and imagination which was presenting itself in other hearts at that very hour. While we enjoyed a delicious meal, God's angels were busy; and the "Amen" of many prayers were about to bear fruit.

The Christmas Pin Society, Chapter Eight

The Christmas Pin Society

by Marianne Coyne

Copyright © 2006 Marianne Coyne

Chapter Eight

December 15th I received a call from Hannah. Her voice revealed an inner desire to participate in the auction. Though she still had no plans to attend the event, she managed to work up the courage to donate half of her pins.

Early on the following afternoon I arrived at Hannah's home. Elizabeth and Andrew were there. Elizabeth answered the door. She was always a pretty girl, but she now possessed that particular glow which was the trademark of most pregnant women. Her baby was due in three months, and she was shining with the anticipation of it.

She went to let her mother know I had arrived, and Andrew came into the foyer and warmly greeted me. Hannah walked in with the small box. "Well, here they are, Emma. I hope they'll help," she said shyly. I sensed she felt a bit awkward; perhaps for not wanting to part with all of them. "This is fine, Hannah. Your contribution is appreciated more than you know," I replied. "Please reconsider coming. The Harris' will be there, and they are looking forward to meeting you." Hannah remained silent as she reached in to hug me. “I'll be praying for everyone," she said, as I left the house.

Stepping down the walkway towards my car, I heard a soft voice call my name. Turning, I saw Elizabeth with quickening step approaching. She stood in front of me with the same look she had as a child when the right words were longed for to express something close to her heart. "I know mom really wants to go," she said. I looked at her and smiled. I could tell there was something else on her mind. She hesitated a moment. "They still love each other, you know," she softly remarked. "I know," I answered. "I spoke with daddy this morning. I'm hoping he'll be able to come here for Christmas ~ so that we can all be together." At that moment her vulnerability made it difficult for me to imagine that this child, standing before me, was old enough to have one of her own. "Hope is a wonderful thing, my dear," I said. "Do you believe in miracles, Aunt Emma?" she asked, tenderly. I placed my hand on her arms, which were crossed on top of her belly to keep her coat close about her against the cold. "Yes, I do, Elizabeth," I answered. Then as a smile seemed to come over my whole being, I gave her arm a pat, and with great conviction, repeated, "Yes, I do!"

I left with a good feeling. I suppose, like Elizabeth, I had hope ~ not only for the success of the auction, but for everyone involved; for the Harris', for Angel, for Hannah and Harold, for all who might come together this Christmas season to fulfill a dream for life ~ abundant life. After all, wasn't that the promise of the first Christmas?

Arriving home, I found Isabel in the living room unpacking Christmas decorations. She had already put out some of the figurines we had collected over the years; snowmen, Santas, and angels. The two little angels holding banners with the months of her and Ben's birth, she placed in the center of the coffee table. She was hanging the stockings when I came through the door. "Hi, Mom," she exclaimed, running to me with a stocking dangling in her hand. I gave her a hug. "I thought I'd start decorating!" I kissed her. "Daddy and Ben should be back any minute with the tree," she said. "That's wonderful, Isabel. I can always count on you," I replied. She raised her eyebrows, and came in closer to me, "I saved the nativity," she musically announced in a low voice. We always set out the nativity together. Still, though the children were grown, it was exciting to unwrap and carefully place each beautifully painted character within the holy and magical scene.

Ben's wife, Mary, descended the stairs with a bright smile, holding my precious twenty month old grandson, Robert. "Hello, mother," she said with a hug. "Oh, my darlings," I lovingly uttered, "I'm glad you're here!" She handed me my grandson, whose cheeks I covered with kisses. "Gan-ma! Gan-ma!" he called out with giggles. "He just awoke from a nap," Mary remarked. "I'm going to give him a snack then I can help you with dinner."

Frank and Ben came in with the tree. They decided on a live juniper. It would enliven the house with the green scent of Christmas, and after the holidays, bide its time in Ben's sparse backyard waiting to be planted in the spring. All my dears were around me; my husband and our precious children, bustling with excitement in preparation for that even more precious symbolic birthday. I slipped into my bedroom, and placing Hannah's box on the dresser, I removed mine from the drawer. I put it next to hers. In three days it will all come together, I thought. I took a deep breath and smiled to myself.

Mary was already preparing a salad when I entered the kitchen. While I heated some leftovers from the night before, Isabel set the table. Frank and Ben placed the tree in its celebrated corner in the living room. After dinner we all hurriedly cleaned the kitchen, and spent the rest of the evening listening to Christmas carols while we decorated the tree.

Isabel and I began to put the nativity in place. This year we shared the milestone with little Robert, whose tiny fingers gingerly helped unwrap the figurines. "These are very delicate," I said to him; his eyes wide with the sparkle which accompanies the awe at seeing something magnificent for the first time. Even I still feel that awe each year as I carefully unwrap Mary and Joseph; the shepherd and lamb; the three magi and camel; the donkey, and the angel; as if I, too, was seeing them for the first time. As I slowly revealed the baby and manger, Robert touched it tenderly and said, "Chee chus."

With all the figures in place, I lit the small light within the stable. A glow kissed all the characters. How often I had contemplated this sacred stage; yet it still held for me a curious, singular mystery. Gazing at our task well done, Robert, resisting the temptation to touch by placing one hand behind his back and the other pointing to the nativity, called out, "Mom, dees are veyee deyicit." He reminded me very much of Ben when he was a little boy. In Robert could be seen bits of his father and mother, grandparents, and Isabel, but Ben's features and personality dominated; and still, he was his own person, unique and splendid. I took his pointing hand into mine and kissed it. Suddenly, Ben came in on Robert like a bee buzzing into the most delectable flower, and swooping him up into his arms, buried his face into Robert's tummy, then hovered him over his head. Giggles filled the entire room and my heart.

The Christmas Pin Society, Chapter Seven

The Christmas Pin Society

by Marianne Coyne

Copyright © 2006 Marianne Coyne

Chapter Seven

The town was buzzing with excitement. I was able to procure the community center for the event. The date was set for Saturday, December 18th. Belinda and Paul arrived in time to help. Belinda and Kathy visited a few local restaurants, whose proprietors were happy to provide the food and drinks necessary for the luncheon. Paul helped our husbands keep the homefires burning by keeping our families on track during this hectic time. Angel's public relations announcement in all the local and surrounding area papers, as well as her brief appearance on the local news, successfully reached a broad spectrum of communities; and one of the local station's national affiliate gave it air-time. I was awestruck with how easily things were falling into place. But the circumstance which struck me most profoundly was the call I received from Mrs. Harris, inviting me to her home for an introduction and tea.

I promptly arrived at the Harris' home. As I walked up the stairs to the porch, Mrs. Harris opened the front door to welcome me. Joanne Harris was a slender, pretty woman. Though simple in style, she had an elegance of posture and demeanor. She wore little makeup, which allowed the glow of her complexion to emanate her inner light. Her chestnut hair, which showed hints of gray here and there, was neatly pulled back, and formed into a small, braided knot at the nape of her neck. Her eyes beamed with delight, as she opened her arms embracing me with a warm welcome. Invited in, I was immediately enveloped by the home's sense of love and tranquility. It was modest by material standards, but had a rich, emanating warmth much like its keeper. Everything was in its place; clean and inviting.

We sat down to tea in a small, sunny front room. Everything was prepared and waiting, as if she knew, without a doubt, I would be on time. As Joanne poured the tea into perfectly shaped cups, patterned with dainty violets, she asked me to help myself to the festively decorated Christmas cookies on the matching plate. "These were my grandmother's," she said of the cup and saucer, as she gingerly handed it to me. "They are a reminder of the tea-times I shared with her. Those were happy times for me," she continued. I could see the remembrance in her eyes, and it caused me to smile. She said a simple prayer of gratitude for this moment, and sipped her tea.

We chatted about this-and-that for awhile; general things to acquaint ourselves with each other. Afterward, she briefly described Billy's condition. We spoke about the plans for the event, and I shared with her the encouraging success of each participant. Joy, rather than surprise, radiated from her. There was a grace about her. She had a poise of grandness. "If I may, Joanne, how do you do it?" I asked. "How do you remain calm under such a heavy burden?" She slowly put her hand to her shoulder, where her fingers gently touched a tiny, gold cross pinned to the collar of her blouse. I didn't notice it before. I wondered how I missed it earlier as I visually took her in. "I trust in Him," were her quiet, simple words. She looked directly into my eyes. "I have prayed fervidly these past months," she said. "I wonder if you know what a blessing you and your friends are, Emma. Thank you for allowing God to work through you." Her eyes filled with tears. I was speechless ~ for once.

Billy excitedly burst into the room with the news of the season's first snow. Besides being noticeably out of breath, he looked and seemed like any other boy of his age. One would never have guessed the danger that lurked within. Joanne introduced her son to me. He politely shook my hand with a smile identical to his mother's. "Pleased to meet you," he said. "Pleased to meet you," I emphasized. He stood by his mother; his arm about her neck as he leaned into her. I could tell that they meant the world to each other, and my heart seemed to pause as my mind framed the sweet pose before me. For one second I thought of Mary and her boy, Jesus.

As I came to myself, I stood and gathered my purse and gloves. Putting on my coat, I was surprised to realize I had been there only a little over an hour; it seemed much longer. I felt as if I had known them for years. They walked me to the door. "Emma," Joanne broke the silence, "what can I do to help with the luncheon?" she asked. "Come," I replied. "If possible, your family's presence would be a great honor." "We'll come," she answered. I thanked her for her hospitality. We embraced good-bye, and I turned toward the porch. The snow was coming down softly. As I got into my car, I gave one last look at the mother and child, and they waved one last time as I drove away.

All the way home there was an unusual quietness in the car. I hardly noticed the sound of the other vehicles passing by, and I did not have the urge to turn on the Christmas music which would normally have been playing on the radio. I noticed the surprise and wonderment I felt earlier, at the ease with which all of this was falling into place, had left me. I thought of Joanne's prayers and her faith which seemed to spill over into confidence; and there was the beauty of all of this, I realized ~ faith so strong that it reaches the level of confidence. She knew God would somehow arrange for her son's good health; therefore, when she heard how things were just falling into place, her reaction was not one of surprise. Thinking in those terms, everything began to make sense to me; my melancholy mood, having the television on just at the moment Billy's story was featured, and getting the idea for the auction. I suppose I and my dear friends fit very well into God's plans in answering a heartfelt prayer. Yes, the twenty minute drive home was quiet ~ the humbling kind; because humility is quiet.

The Christmas Pin Society, Chapter Six

The Christmas Pin Society

by Marianne Coyne

Copyright © 2006 Marianne Coyne

Chapter Six

Good afternoon, Hannah, its Emma," I perked. "Hi, Emma, you just caught me. I was almost out of the door." She was on her way to town for some last minute holiday preparations. Elizabeth and her husband, Andrew, were coming on the fourteenth to spend Christmas with Hannah. Elizabeth was expecting their first child, and Hannah wanted the house ready and comfortable for their arrival.

I was brief in explaining the situation, so as not to keep her any longer than necessary from her appointed agenda. Her listening was unusually passive. Coming to the question of her desired presence and much needed help, a stillness was the only audible response. "Are you there?" I asked after a long five seconds. "Yes, I'm here," she responded. "I was just thinking." There was another pause. "It's a wonderful idea, Emma," she said, "very thoughtful and giving..." She paused again. "I'm truly glad everyone else is participating," she continued, "but..." "But...," I repeated. "Well, I just don't think it's something I can be involved with right now. It's just, well, with Elizabeth and Andy coming home for Christmas I'm going to be busy," she replied hesitantly. "Oh, well I understand, Hannah; but what about the pins? Do you think you'd be willing to donate them?" I asked. "About the pins," she quietly replied. Here it was. She was about to reveal the crux of it all. "Emma, I know this is going to sound silly to you, but the pins," she hesitated for a moment. "The truth is I take them out every now and again to look at them; when I feel alone. They comfort me. I can't explain it. I don't think I want to part with them. You must think I'm intensely selfish." 'Intensely' was a strong word. 'Selfish'? Yes. Maybe. But 'intensely selfish'? Well, I didn't want to think about the varying degrees of selfishness ~ if there was such a thing. I verbally responded to her as most would. "No, Hannah, no I don't think you’re selfish." A hundred thoughts were going through my mind at once. I wanted to think she was being selfish; but I knew her better. Hannah was not a selfish person. I just didn't expect her to say 'no'; and when she did, I'm sorry to say, my selfishness in wanting this venture to be a success, led me to jump into a judgmental frame of mind. "I don't expect you to understand, Emma," she said. "My own daughter says I think too much about the past; it's just..." "It's alright, Hannah," I interrupted. "You don't have to explain; not to me or to anyone. They're your pins; yours to do with as you please. I understand."

Actually, I did understand. I knew first-hand what it was like to hold on to something because it reminded me of long-ago, missed moments in my life. Before Isabel was born, when Ben was just a baby, I began to read books with him. We would settle together on the sofa, and I would read a story to him; or we would look at picture books. Ben would have me read a book, two or three times; then take it back to the shelf, put it away, and bring me another. These were special times together. As the years went by, our book collection expanded; train books, story books, animal books, holiday books ~ brought out to read during the specific holiday it represented ~ and many more.

When Ben was three and Isabel came along, he and I managed to sustain our ritual. As Isabel grew, she was a willing addition to our story time. They liked the different voices and accents I used for each character, making the story more interesting and realistic. When Ben started school, Isabel and I continued the tradition in the mornings; but at night, before bed, the three of us would cuddle together and read a story or two.

Then one day, it seemed without warning, they had grown out of their childhood books; and I was left with the memories and longings for sharing them still. Frank kept pressing me to pack them away, but I could not seem to relinquish those reminders of simpler times. Once in a while, when alone, the books would catch my attention; and picking one up, I would glance through it, or sometimes read it aloud, as if little ears were listening. In the quiet corners of the house I could almost hear the laughter of sweet voices, and I would sigh, wishing in my heart to read these delightful treasures with my children one more time.

Once, during such an occasion, I realized something about holding on. The memories I had were precious, and a gift to keep in my heart forever, but my children were no longer small. They were growing into beautiful young adults. Although their growing was a wonderful and welcomed thing, keeping the books out where they could distract my attention held me too closely to the past; preventing me from enjoying my children's present development with the fullness they and I deserved. With that illumination, I set about packing them away. The hope of future grandchildren to share them with made the task easier.

Yes, I understood Hannah and her unwillingness to part with her Christmas pins. They reminded her of better times; when her life was more complete, her family together, her hope still alive that things could get better. Holding on to the pins enabled her to hold on to her dreams, and she wasn't ready to let go of that. I realized, too, I could not expect her to share my vision. How could she imagine helping another family's dream to become a reality, when she felt unable to make her own dream come true? But then ~ just maybe ~ there lay the secret.

The Christmas Pin Society, Chapter Five

The Christmas Pin Society

by Marianne Coyne

Copyright © 2006 Marianne Coyne

Chapter Five

Kathy's success with Belinda was not surprising. For Belinda and Paul, life seemed to go a bit smoother than for most. I always thought that was God's gift to them to replace the emptiness they felt in having no children. With business slowing down for the holidays, they both agreed this would be a perfect opportunity to visit. As far as her Christmas pins were concerned, Belinda could not think of a better use for them. She was delighted to be able to participate in such an event and didn't think twice when saying 'yes'.

I, on the other hand, had the more difficult task of persuading Angel and Hannah. Unlike Belinda and Kathy, who were much more accomplished at letting go ~ looking at the past with ease, while looking to the future with adventure ~ the rest of us had the tendency to fervently cling with a tight embrace. The "what" we cling to may be obvious, though different for each of us. The "why" we cling can be more of an enigma, and evade even the most sensible of us. We become so endeared to what we are clinging to that we are unaware of how encumbered we become from the weight of it. I suppose we cling because we fear losing something dear to us, and the fear of that loss prevents us from seeing what we might gain if we were to just loosen our grip.

Convincing Angel to donate her pins for the auction wasn't hard. She thought the idea was wonderful. However, persuading her to help organize such an immense endeavor took more effort. Clinging more closely to her children and grandchildren after Joe Jr.'s homecoming, the thought of venturing outside of that nucleus seemed daunting to her. "Angel, we need your expertise," I solicited. For this auction to be successful her past fund-raising experience for the schools had to be employed. She possessed just the perfect amount of charismatic quality needed to communicate with the newspapers and television stations. I reminded her of the many successful school carnivals, plays, and auctions all because she knew when, where, and how to advertise; ensuring a large community attendance.

We started again to talk about Billy Harris and his parents. Angel began to remember how she felt when she thought she had lost her boy; how she prayed, yearned, wept, and prayed again. Her empathy grew, and I could hear in her voice the uncertainty she had felt earlier melt away. "Yes," she said, "oh, Emma, yes. We have to give this child our best. Every child deserves that much." "You'll do it, Angel?" I asked. "Look," she replied firmly, "you just tell me when and where ~ all the details ~ and leave the publicity to me. Just make sure the place you get is big enough to hold this auction-slash-luncheon." "Thank you, Angel," I sighed, "I knew we could count on you."

I was relieved that morning after talking to Angel. With some gentle prying, she opened up and let go. That led me into a false sense of pride and confidence in a job well done. Hannah, I was about to discover, was clinging to something which was not so easily surrendered ~ memories.

There's Something About Joseph

In the past few days, he's begun appearing on lawns across the neighborhood.

And while everyone recognizes him kneeling beside his wife and gazing at his newborn son, no one knows much about him. Because even in Scripture, Joseph is almost as silent as he is in those quiet, cold front yards.

But the minimal, one-word description of Joseph that the Gospels do provide actually gives us much to ponder.


Andrea Bianchi,
Newsletter Editor
ChristianityToday.com




MORE!!!

The Christmas Pin Society, Chapter Four

The Christmas Pin Society

by Marianne Coyne

Copyright © 2006 Marianne Coyne

Chapter Four

The next morning, after breakfast, I called Kathy. I shared with her my feelings from the day before. She confided that she, too, had been having nostalgic moments all week, but was hesitant to bring it up to anyone. "Do you think it's possible to bring us all together again?" Kathy asked. "Why not!" I exclaimed. "If we've been thinking about it, surely the others have been, too." "But it’s such short notice," she replied, "No one's expecting it." "Oh, Kathy, we're not getting together just for our sakes," I answered. "There's a greater purpose for our reunion. This year we have one more addition to our Christmas Pin Society, and with His help, I believe the time we do have will be sufficient to prepare the greatest gift ever given at our luncheons."

I proceeded to tell her about Billy Harris, a little boy from a neighboring town, who had been recently diagnosed with Ventricular Septal Defect. Without an operation to repair the hole in his heart, Billy might not live another year. The costly procedure was overwhelming for Billy's parents, and prayer led them to reach out to their neighbors for help. The family's health insurance was nominal; enough to cover doctor's appointments and medication for the average illness, but not enough to handle a cost of this magnitude. So, as God is often known to do, he placed something in my heart. Over the past twenty-two years the five of us collectively had accumulated at least one hundred or more pins. Auctioning them at a community luncheon might give us the opportunity to raise a substantial amount of money towards Billy's operation.

Kathy bubbled with inspiration. I knew she would. However, her joyful utterances were soon silenced by certain misgivings. "What about Angel and Hannah?" she asked. "They've avoided large get-togethers for a long time. Do you think they'll do it?" She was right. It had been two years since our last traditional luncheon, but it seemed longer. Kathy and I had long given up trying to get all of us together at the same time. I thought for a moment. "Kathy," I answered, "they have always been there for a real need. I know they will do this. You call Belinda, and I'll speak with Angel and Hannah."

My beautiful friends were never found want for possessing the necessary grace which enabled them to give freely to others. But the miseries and fears in their own lives led them to fall asleep into self-absorption. Perhaps it was time to awaken; to shake the sleep from our eyes in order to see more clearly and farther out into the world around us. Was I being presumptuous to muse that perhaps Jesus, in his infinite wisdom and love, would heal the holes in many hearts this Christmas? I could only hope.