Happy first week of
advent BB’s. I’ve always enjoyed
advent. Although as a good ole southern
Baptist (by birth anyway), I just began to understand it. We are in the first week (Sunday was the
first Sunday of advent). This week is
all about hope. And peeps, I tell ya, I
need a big ole serving of hope after most of my Thanksgivings. Thinking back through the years, I always saw
hope as Advent began. I’m gonna give you
a Quinton Tarantino view of my past 10+ years of Thanksgiving. Hold on, it’s a wild ride. And you’ll wonder why I don’t get a big ole
serving of Xanax after each and every intake of Thanksgiving turkey.
*
* *
Thanksgiving alone. Well, I wasn’t completely alone. I spent time with my sweet family, and then I
came home to an empty house…with no power.
I decorated for Christmas in the glow of a shop light on an extension
cord. Talk about humbling. I had to leave my other home. I had to do this for my family. And I had to decorate. It would remind us of the hope and joy of the
coming season. So I did just that. Decorate a disheveled house. And waited on her to come home.
*
* *
It was cold and windy
that day. I stood at the gate of the
arena watching girls prepare for lessons.
It wasn’t going to be a good day for it though. She asked me, “How’s your mom?” It was the first time I replied, “Not good at
all.”
*
* *
The barn was so quiet
that morning. All the riders were out of
town, so I had the farm to myself. I
walked in and said, “Good morning ponies,” as I always did, but no one replied. Yes, I know they are ponies, but I usually
got a little bitty whinny from Aunt Bee. I went to her stall and she was laying
down… somewhat uncomfortably. I
rearranged her little legs and called the vet.
She ate a little, but wouldn’t stand up.
We gave JoJo the choice of what to do…put Aunt Bee to sleep or try an
adrenalin shot that would help her stand and hopefully give her a few more
weeks. The shot didn’t work. Bee wouldn’t stand. Josephine knew.
*
* *
"Stella," so we called her, was a beast…
fibroid tumor that was causing havoc with my little body. I was in constant pain. It reminded me of the pre-term labor. The cramps.
The confinement. I felt like I
was missing out on life with every passing day.
Why couldn’t they rush the surgery?
Why was God doing this to me? I
just wanted to enjoy seeing my baby girl dress up for Halloween and hear my
family laugh at Thanksgiving without pain.
Another Thanksgiving down the drain…
*
* *
I was so tired of that
drive…winding over Hugh Daniel, stop and go traffic down 280, the long walk to
the doctor’s office (just to turn around and take the long walk to the birthing
suites knowing it wasn’t time). It was
always scary. I was always in a lot of
pain. I was usually alone. So I watched
the leaves. They danced and played and
kept me entertained. My grandmother
actually wrote a poem about just that very thing. I would think about it and remember.
*
* *
She knelt down and
kissed her forehead and told her how wonderful heaven would be. She told her to not lose hope, because it was
so, so bright and beautiful there with God.
And we said goodbye again… on Thanksgiving.
*
* *
Aunt Bee was my little
girl’s pony that was a feisty little 30+ year old babysitter. She was drug all over the property by my
3-year-old daughter. They would sit on
the porch together and JoJo would swing and Bee would stand there, so very
attentive. This particular morning it
was raining. Jojo and Bee were under an
umbrella on the front porch and Jo was swinging. I have always talked to JoJo’s ponies by
putting my head right on their brow and whispering things. Usually asking them to take care of my baby
girl. Strangely, they always seem to
listen so carefully. That morning I
simply whispered into those old and failing ears, “Please hang on til after
Thanksgiving.”
*
* *
I received a call from
Mother. The weak little voice on the
other end of the phone asked if I could help decorate for Christmas early. “But you never want the decorations up this
early,” I replied. “I know, but I want
to look at them. It helps. It gives me hope,” she said. So I decorated for Christmas. Early.
Not understanding why.
*
* *
That day in the back
hall from the birthing suites back to my doctor’s office, I fell to my
knees. “Doc, I just can’t do it. I can’t walk one more step this dilated. I can’t take one more contraction. I can’t do it. I have no time to recover between
contractions. Please, take her.” This was NOT like me and she knew it. She was just what I needed. In her thick Lousianna accent that was more
like a football coach than a sorority girl, she said, “You have to do
this. Pray to God to get you on your
feet. You’re almost there. Don’t lose hope.”
*
* *
BBs, there WAS hope, and by God's sweet grace there IS hope!
But hope that
is seen is no hope at all. Who hopes for what they already have? But if we hope
for what we do not yet have, we wait for it patiently.
Romans 8:24-25
12 years ago…
In the early morning
hours of Thanksgiving day, I lost my Momma.
The first Sunday of advent for everyone else was a day of Hope and
anticipation of the coming holiday. For
me, it was a day of disbelief. I heard
the beautiful music. I listened to wise
pastor. I even read scripture for her
memorial service. As the receiving line
died down, I sat and waited for the place to clear. But it didn’t. It filled with hundreds of young voices that
were preparing for Christmas candlelight.
As I left, a woman took my hand and said, “Life goes on.” And it did.
And there was hope.
8 years ago…
The Sunday after
Thanksgiving, my beautiful baby was born.
I had struggled and waited so long.
I had always struggled with Thanksgiving. I would close my eyes all week and pray it
went by fast. This time I was given an
unbelievable hope. Excitement and
anticipation couldn’t even describe it.
Never did I understand the miracle of Christmas until I brought my
newborn home and prayerfully walked her through the barn. I took in the sights and smells that sweet Mary
took in all those years ago. 
5 years ago…
My friend and mother
figure during my pregnancy was a horse.
That’s not a typo. My sweet horse
was pregnant with me. I joked and said
that I was going to write a book called Everything
I Learned About Pregnancy, I Learned From A Horse. This was the year that I was giving her
baby colt to my baby girl. They weren’t
babies anymore. It was time and I prayed
that it would give Jojo a sense of hope while knowing she would be losing Bee
soon. New life brought renewed hope.
2 years ago…
“I don’t usually work
the weekend after Thanksgiving, but I wanted to get this finished for
you.” “Thank you,” I replied. I finished my barn work and we walked in and
for the first time flipped a switch and had light. Until you have no electricity, you’ll never
understand how appreciative you are for it!
We knew we would get it all fixed up, so we used the time to appreciate
how lucky we are. So many people have so
much less than we do. The lights on the
Christmas tree had never seemed so bright.
1 year ago…
The surgery was
over. Thankfully Stella has left the
building, so to speak. I wanted to be
home, but I wasn’t ready. That night we
watched movies, and walked, and I was fed and given medicine and unbelievably pampered. And first the first time in a long, long
time, I looked around and realized I wasn’t alone. I had hope.
Hope in a BB friendship that was stronger than anything I’ve ever
imagined. Hope in a family that helped
care for my child and me. Hope in a man
that would be my rock and would soon be my kind and caring husband. Hope.
1 week ago…
The hope of advent all
those years turned into peace.
And again, Isaiah says,
"The Root of Jesse will spring up, one who will arise to rule over the
nations; the Gentiles will hope in him." May the God of hope fill you with
all joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope by
the power of the Holy Spirit
Romans 15:12-13
BB’s I pray that as you walk though the
coming weeks, you find hope. Hope in a
Savior so big and kind and so full of grace, you’ll run to the manger with
anticipation.
