_________________________________________
{Straight From the Heart} *Lessons in Love* 5/19/00
__________________________________________
Welcome to "Straight From the Heart!"
If you enjoy this free daily email service, I encourage you to
forward it on to family and friends. If this has been passed along
to you and you want to join the list, just send a blank email to: Thunder27@aol.com
I appreciate any feedback or constructive criticism, so feel free
to write me (Michael T. Powers) and let me know what you think!
__________________________________________
Lessons in Love
By Deborah Dee Simmons
After seven years of marriage, my first husband left in search of greener
pastures. (The one he found just happened to have another woman grazing in
it.) Despite my initial shock, I was blessed with the joy and comfort of
our three children to get me through the rough times. Derek was four years
old, Darice was three and Dennae was just two. I was a stay-at-home mom
with no income in sight, the house payment was three months behind, and the
phone had been shut off. Things did not look good, but I wouldn't trade a
second of those years for all the cash in the world.
Daily life became a juggling act. Should we have water--or heat? Food or
power? A car or a house to live in? Just warding off nakedness was a never
ending struggle. This dreary beginning, however, turned into a long period
of gradual self-growth, increasing happiness, and welcome peace of
mind--despite the unrelenting poverty. I found full-time employment in a
local bank and then took a higher-paying position with the local school
district (where I work to this day), but it still wasn't enough to make life
truly comfortable. So the children and I worked at it.
I am very grateful that I was able to squeak by without ever seeking the
assistance of welfare programs. God was extremely good to us. Without His
love and guidance, I would have crumbled into my heap of dirty laundry and
dissolved into tears. I did that a lot, anyway, but I know His Hand was in
everything I touched, every day we lived, every aspect of our lives. He
knew what He was doing. (Good thing, too, because I sure didn't.) I can
still remember the prayer I said aloud beside my children's beds every
single night: "Dear God, please bless my three little children and their
babies [assorted dolls, stuffed animals and precious animal-like beings they
had won at the fair], keep them safe from harm at all times and let them
know how much I love them and need them forever and ever......"
Life was good back then, but some days were even better than others. The
Christmas season was an especially magical time, as you can well imagine,
and the children and I had wonderful Christmas mornings--and not just in the
sense that there were gifts to open. There were loving family members with
whom to celebrate, delicious food to enjoy, long-standing customs to
observe, a healthy dose of Santa magic to delight in and lots of meaningful
spiritual tradition to commemorate the occasion. Derek, Darice and Dennae
were aware that Christmas was not just about Santa Claus and presents; it
was all about the birth of Jesus Christ and the salvation of the entire
world for all eternity. They knew, but they still believed in Santa. And
that was okay.
With all my other responsibilities, by the time Christmas Eve rolled around,
I was bushed. But the hard part still loomed before me. Somehow, before
5:00 a.m. the following morning, I had to unearth each carefully hidden
gift, drag them downstairs undetected, assemble, sort, wrap and label each
one of them. I had a simple rule of thumb: if it was wrapped, it was from
Mommy; if it was unwrapped, Santa had brought it. That was the rule. Hard
and fast. No two ways about it.
I started out with the best of intentions. Experience had taught me to
color-code the children's gifts so I would know, without looking at the tag,
which gift belonged to which child come Christmas morning. I wrapped the
gifts for Dennae, my youngest, in the most juvenile wrapping paper--often
splashed with big pictures of Santa or reindeer. Derricks paper was
slightly more sophisticated, perhaps a Christmas tree or angel scene, and
Derek's was the most masculine--bold green and red stripes, for example.
Keep in mind I didn't have a lot of money to throw around on wrapping paper,
so finding a thrifty three-pack with the right combination of themes was
quite a challenge. But I was up to it. After all, I was Mom and this was
Christmas and my kids were counting on me.
Armed with three rolls of paper, a big bag of the cheapest multicolored
stick-on bows I could find, scotch tape, scissors, assorted gift tags, a pen
and a mug of hot chocolate, I plopped myself down in the middle of the
living room floor. I was ready. Each of the children's gifts had been
hidden in grocery sacks or black plastic garbage bags. To anyone peeking in
the window, it would appear I was sitting in the middle of a landfill. I
leaned over, selected a gift from one of the bags and began to wrap.
Slowly. Carefully. Meticulously. The first ones were beautiful. The
wrapping paper was cut with precision, they were taped neatly and evenly,
and each gift was topped with a color-coordinated bow (placed carefully on
the package so as to yield the greatest aesthetic impact). Following the
wrapping of each gift, which typically took about ten minutes, I would
search out just the right name tag for that particular present and that
particular child (you know, juvenile, slightly more sophisticated or
masculine), pick up my pen, and compose a beautiful sentiment.
"To Derek, my dear, super-duper son and oldest child, with love and hugs
for a very, Merry Christmas, Mommy."
"To Darice, my sweet daughter, with lots of huggies and kissies. Merry,
Merry Christmas, honey bun. Mommy."
To my baby, Dennae, without whom the sun would never rise. With love and
smackaroonies, babykins. Santa says hello! Love you, punkinhead. Mommy."
About three gifts into the process, I began to reevaluate my procedures. It
didn't take long to realize I had bought an awful lot (albeit inexpensive)
gifts and I would be there until New Year's Eve if I didn't change my ways.
Needless to say, I changed. By the end of the night (which was about 3:00
a.m., by the way), my methods began to relax--imperceptibly, at first. It
wasn't long, however, before I restructured completely. Four hours later,
my method had been reduced to grabbing the roll of paper, ripping off a
piece with my teeth, slinging it around the gift, slapping on a piece of
tape, and skipping the bow entirely. Gift tags were history. Derek, Darice
and Dennae became D-1, D-2, and D-3 and love, Mom deteriorated into
nothing more than a scrawled M. Both scribblings were placed directly on
the wrapping paper--any place I could find a light spot. (Santa's beard was
a popular site.) Frankly, I just didn't give a rip anymore. The closer it
grew toward morning, the more gifts Santa was credited with bringing. If it
looked like it was going to be difficult to wrap (or if I had to move from
the cross-legged position in which I had become immobilized), I willingly
gave Santa the credit.
Paralyzing pain and all, though, I wouldn't trade one aching second of that
time. The look of wonder on their glowing faces the next morning made it
all worthwhile. Their excited cries and earnest hugs and sloppy kisses
proved to me that it didn't matter if the gifts were department
store-expensive or dimestore-cheap, the real name brand item or a
knockoff version, wrapped in gold foil or stuffed in a shoe box. The
words I love you, Mommy! and I knew Santa would remember! can make up for an
awful lot of blood, sweat and tears. Every last bit, in fact.
One of the greatest compliments I ever received was a remark that Darice
(you know, the slightly more sophisticated one) made to me a few months ago
when we were discussing her childhood.
"You know, Mom," she said, "Back then, I never knew we were poor."
That's because we weren't.
Copyright © 2000 by Deborah Dee Simmons, All Rights Reserved
Deborah Dee Simmons
dsimmons@remc8.k12.mi.us
Send Deborah an email and let her know what you thought of her story!
************************
A little bit about Deborah:
My husband, John, and I, reside in Ionia, Michigan. For the past twenty
years, I've worked as the Secretary to the Superintendent of Ionia
Public Schools by day, and donned my writer's garb in the evenings
and on weekends. Currently (in addition to my full-time job), I
write a human interest column for our local newspaper (the
"Sentinel-Standard"), have completed a series of children's books
(queries abound, but none have "bounded" back as yet), and much of
my poetry has been published.
I delight in writing on a variety of themes--some humorous, some
thought-provoking. My faith in God has kept me afloat during many a
depressing day and I find Him, thankfully, in my life at every turn.
Hopefully, I will be blessed with the opportunity (and the energy) to
write for many years to come.
___________________________________________________
REQUESTS:
From: DailyPrayers@juno.com (David)
Please pray for Dana's dad, who is having more testing due to his lower
back problems; for her Grandpa who is having kidney problems; for her
Grandma who will be having cataract surgery in a couple weeks; for her
sister Darci, who just found out that she has cervical cancer (she's only
25 years old - I pray that they discovered it in time to get rid of it);
and lastly, for Dana, who is understandably severely stressed between all
of the above and our upcoming move. Thanks, David
From: ydejager@alcatel.altron.co.za (Yvette de Jager)
I have a special prayer request for today. I became an aunt to twins -
a boy and a girl - yesterday. Although tiny, these two little miracles
are doing fine. My request is that everyone who reads this please ask
a blessing upon them, welcoming them into the world and that they grow
strong and live healthily.
Heaps of thanks
Yvette de Jager
Johannesburg
South Africa
___________________________________________________
Thought For The Day:
"Many a man thinks he has an open mind, when it's merely vacant."
Verse for the Day:
"...I warn everyone among you not to estimate and think of himself
more highly than he ought."
Romans 12:3
Kid's Thought For The day:
"Don't tease a big kid."
Parent's Thought For The Day
"A torn jacket is soon mended; but hard words bruise the heart of
a child."
(Henry Wadsworth Longfellow)
Coach's Thought For The Day
"Only two kinds of players disappoint me. A player who does nothing
he is told, and one who will do nothing else."
(John Kessel)
Deep Thought For The Day:
"Adam to Eve: "I'll wear the plants in this family!""
_
/_/\/\ MICHAEL T. POWERS
\_\ / THUNDER27@aol.com http://members.aol.com/Thunder27/index.html
/_/ \ "For I have been crucified with Christ and I no longer live, but
\_\/\ \ Christ lives in me. The life I live in the body I live for the Son
\_\/ of God, who loved me and gave Himself for me." Galatians 2:20
Video Imagery (Michael's Video Production Business)
"I thought of you first after my family sat down to watch the video
we gave them. They loved it, to say the least! Within thirty
seconds my mom was crying and my dad did too. They said it was
the best Christmas gift we could have given them!! You did such
a beautiful job! They were so suprised and so touched---they
really, really, really loved it. Thanks for helping to make it so
special to us all. My mom mentioned how the songs were perfect for
the video too! Thanks again!"
Kelli (RKaGe@aol.com) College Station, TX
Let me make you a video from your pictures or home movies!
Check out the web page for Michael's video production business!
Video Imagery
http://members.aol.com/Videoimg/index.html