When everyone is preparing for Christmas and longing for the celebration, some are struggling.
When the songs of the season are heard and sung with joyful anticipation, some close their ears.
When everyone seems Merry but that is not appropriate, some close themselves off.
When sending cards, buying presents, planning meals is on the to-do list, some pull back.

For some, this time of year is very difficult.
Memories close to the surface, seem to bubble up at the wrong time.
Relationships that need mending seem more pronounced in the twelfth month.
Turning the calendar to January just cannot come fast enough for some.

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It was the night of the Women’s Christmas Social at church.
I invited three dear friends to go with me.
We drove in one car, ready for an evening to be together.
It was a rainy night but nothing could dampen our spirits.

We arrived and my friends remarked about how lovely the church looked.
A large Christmas tree with tiny white lights was in the center of the foyer.
Women were hanging up their coats and putting their umbrellas on the floor beneath.
There were warm greetings and hugs all around.

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It makes me smile to see little children sitting in the seat of a shopping cart.
On a particularly long day of running errands, I often think that is the way to shop.
A front row seat is theirs.
They can hold special things in their hands and hand them to the cashier at the register.

I smile because I remember those days.
I remember the days of one child in the seat and another inside the shopping cart.
The one inside the shopping cart used to love when things were piled in around their legs.
There would be giggles all around, which made for a wonderful shopping trip.

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There is a little shop I enjoy visiting, especially this time of year.
A Christmas shop is set up in a large room where the Amish women quilt.
Your eye does not know where to look.
Just when you think you have seen it all, there are little touches here and there you missed.

The items are handmade or gently used.
No one would ever know.
Christmas ornaments, mugs, and tins fill the shelves.
Snowmen, reindeer, Santa, and old-fashioned Father Christmas are found there.

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The house is decorated for Christmas.
It has been our tradition to do our decorating the day after Thanksgiving.
Initially, I chose that day as a sort of protest.
I refused to go shopping on what has notoriously been called, Black Friday.

I chose the day when retailers hoped their sales figures would be in the black.
I chose that day to get the boxes out of the attic and go to work.
Everyone had a job, from the oldest to the youngest.
Many hands made for light work and a lot of fun.

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I waited in the customer service line at Walmart.
I had a quick return.
I am finding that this time of year, patience is indeed a virtue.
During those times of waiting, people watching fascinates me.

I was in my own little world of thought when he came rushing up in front of me.
I’m not going ahead of you; it’s just that he needed to do a price check, he said pointing.
See, that’s my item up there on the counter so I’m not going ahead of you, he said again.
I never asked for an explanation but he insisted on giving me one.

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Our home looked like so many others on Christmas morning.
Months of planning culminate on that one day.
Presents are selected and purchased months before.
Wrapping paper so neatly tucked and taped is now scattered on the floor to be thrown away.

Gift giving is worth it.
Gift giving is a delight to the giver.
Gift giving is a delight to the receiver as well.
If there was just a way to make those gift-giving moments last a bit longer.

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Whispers of His Movement will not be published for a few days, as I spend time with my family during this Christmas season. God willing, the next Whispers will be published on Wednesday, December 28, 2016. May each of you have a Blessed Christmas.

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There is nothing new under the sun, so the saying goes.
I am finding that to be true.
I know it is true when I talk to my youngest daughter.
Still in college, I love our talks on the phone or one-on-one when she is home.

Clothes I gave away from my high school days are back in style.
If only you saved them, Mom, I have often heard her say.
Who would have thought that what I gave away back in the day is now in fashion again?
Who had the foresight to know that saving those things would be wise?

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Twenty years ago, a 27 year old police officer was sitting in his patrol car at a traffic light.
While he was sitting there, he was ambushed.
Officer Brian Gibson was killed.
His family and his fellow Washington DC officers would never be the same.

How do you handle something so tragic and unexpected?
How do you go on?
Which emotions rise to the surface?
How do those emotions affect other people?

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