It’s almost Christmas. “Gingle Bells,” “I’m Dreaming of a White Christmas,” and many other popular Christmas songs are being played in the background of every store. “It’s a Wonderful Life” will soon be on tv. But don’t worry, if you miss it the first time, it will be shown again and again.

And then there’s the oh so many parties with an overabundance of food and drink, to be followed by weeks of dieting. After all, it’s the most wonderful time of the year. At least for some. But, not for others.

Growing up, I was one of those ‘others.’ My family was too poor to provide much in the way of gifts. Some of what we received was donated by our local church. But then for years, my aunt would travel three hours to our home in upstate New York bearing gifts of pajamas, toys and candy. Those were the Merry Christmases. But then she stopped visiting when I was about twelve. The Christmas gifts we received were once again those donated by our local church.

In my early twenties, I was longing to be married. At Christmas it seemed everyone either had a spouse, or a special someone to celebrate the holidays with and to spoil them with Christmas gifts. Afterward, they would brag about all the gifts they received. This made the holidays more difficult.

When I was twenty-six, and still single, I experienced my saddest Christmas ever. It was the first Christmas without my younger brother who died nine months earlier unexpectedly from a viral infection that attacked his heart. But we decided to celebrate Christmas in spite of that loss. I had had my family over that day for dinner and to exchange gifts. But once they left, I was back to being sad on Christmas. I knew it wasn’t just because of my brother’s death, or because there were only a few gifts underneath the tree, but because the emptiness inside seemed overwhelming. Something was missing.

That evening as I lay in bed, I remembered a conversation I recently had with a friend who had just become a Christian. I pondered what she told me about the real meaning of Christmas. It was something I was taught while attending religious elementary school. She reminded me that God gave His greatest gift to every one of us two thousand years ago with the birth of his Son. Right then and there I gave my life to Christ, the one who gave his life for me. It was the absolute turning point in my life, and it hasn’t been the same since.

Christmas holds new meaning for me. Not because I’ve been married for thirty-one years and no longer spend it alone. Or because I know I’ll see my brother again someday when I go to Heaven. But because I’ve received the greatest gift of all.

Luke 2:10-11 says, “I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all the people. Today in the town of David, a Savior has been born to you; he is Christ the Lord.”

No monetary gift can top that.

Every Thanksgiving across this nation there are annual traditional foot races, commonly referred to as “turkey trots.” I’m sure you’re familiar with them or may have even participated in one.

Many years ago, my twin, Chrissy, who was an avid runner and participated in many races for several years, asked me to join her in the annual turkey trot in Upstate New York. This race was a tradition in the area since 1916 and is now one of the largest races in the United States. It features both a 5k (3.1 miles) and a 10k race. My sister was registered for the 5K.

I was a Christian for a little less than a year at the time. As someone who still smoked a pack and a half of cigarettes per day for the previous seven years, and who had never jogged, let alone run a race, balked at the idea. Besides, Thanksgiving was only five days away! My sister was persistent however and I finally relented with only three days to prepare.

For the next three days I arose early, donned my warmest attire, and braved the frigid morning temperatures. I barely completed a mile the first day, huffing and puffing along the way. By the third day, I pushed myself and made it a half mile further, still quite short of the 3.1 miles.

Race day arrived, and I very nervous. I was sure I wouldn’t be able to finish the race and would be humiliated. Why did I let Chrissy talk me into this?

When they yelled “Go!” we took off, but I paced myself. I couldn’t keep up with my sister, and it seemed everyone was passing me by. I was confident I could finish the first mile as I had done so the previous three days. Each step of my snail-paced jog grew harder and harder and so did my breathing. By the end of the second mile my sister was long gone and most everyone had passed me. My smoking habit (which I gave up a few years after that race) had clearly made the effort more difficult. I prayed I would be able to finish.

I thought for sure I had reached the limit of my ability during the last mile, but somehow got a second wind. My pace grew slower and slower, but I was determined to make it over the finish line. Chrissy and bystanders were cheering me on. “You’re almost there!” someone shouted. “You can do this!” yelled another. I could see my goal a short distance away. With sheer exhaustion, I crossed the finished line. In last place! But I was so happy. I was grinning from cheek to cheek. I had completed what to me was a monumental task. To someone else I may have looked like a loser, but to me I won. My aspirations were never of winning, only finishing.

That 5K race reminds me a lot of a Christian’s journey. Sometimes the road is rough, and we may be tempted to give up the faith, but if we persevere, God will see us through. And with the help of our friends by our side to encourage us and cheer us on, we can make it.

Hebrews 12:1 says, “Let us run with perseverance, the race marked out for us, fixing our eyes on Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of faith.”

http://www.americanbookfest.com/religion.html

War Hero

Veteran’s Day is right around the corner. Do you have a favorite war hero? I do. I’m surprised I was never taught about him in school. Instead, I found out about him through a biographical film, “Hacksaw Ridge.” To me he’s one of the greatest war heroes of all time. Once you learn about him, I don’t think you will ever forget his name. Desmond Doss.

Desmond was a Christian whose personal and religious beliefs prevented him from using a weapon. After the Japanese attacked Pearl Harbor, he wanted to serve his country by saving lives as a combat medic. He enlisted in the Army even though he worked as a ship joiner in the Newport News shipyard and could have received a deferment.

The Army refused this scrawny 145 lb., 5’8″ Virginian’s request to serve as a medic, assigning him to a rifle company. There Desmond was hated by his fellow soldiers, who taunted him not just because he refused to touch a weapon, but also because he read the bible every day and refused to work on the Sabbath.

During basic training, his officers tried various tactics to get him to either quit or request a transfer out of their battalion, even to the point of charging him with mental instability. A hearing was held to decide his fate, and he was granted his request to serve as a combat medic.

Desmond’s battalion was sent to the Pacific Theater during the Battle of Okinawa. They were assigned to take an escarpment appropriately named “Hacksaw Ridge” because of the high death rate of those who tried to take it. During that horrific battle, many of his comrades were wounded and some were killed. Defeat seemed inevitable as they faced heavy artillery, mortar and machine gun fire. They were ordered to retreat, and hurriedly climbed back down the 350′ escarpment leaving the wounded and dead behind facing inevitable capture or death.

But Desmond disobeyed his commander. He stayed behind and crawled from soldier to soldier to tend to their wounds under heavy gunfire. Working alone all through the night under fire, he dragged them one by one to the edge of the ridge, tied a rope around them, and lowered them to safety below. Some of the men in his battalion at the bottom of the ridge saw what he was doing. They released the men from the rope, staying there throughout the night as Desmond worked tirelessly asking God to help him.

Exhausted, especially for a man of his small stature, he asked God to help him. Over the course of 12 hours, he ended up rescuing all 75 of his men, even the deceased, leaving no man behind including his injured Captain. These were the same men who taunted him, called him a coward, and fought so hard to get rid of him.

Desmond’s heroism won the respect of his fellow soldiers. In fact, they later refused to go into battle without him, allowing him time to pray and read his bible beforehand.

John 15:13 says “Greater love hath no man than he lay down his life for his friends.” That’s exactly what Desmond did that night, risking his life for his comrades every moment he stayed on that ridge under enemy fire. Desmond was awarded the Congressional Medal of Honor for his heroic efforts, including multiple Bronze stars and Purple Hearts during his heroic service in other battles. He has since passed away, but I’m sure he had even greater rewards waiting for him in heaven.

It’s that time of year again—football season. At my house, it’s all football all the time on the television. My husband is a huge fan. I join him on rare occasions during a big game. I don’t dislike football. I just have other things I prefer to do with my time.

One thing I will watch is a good football movie. One of my favorite inspirational sports films is Rudy. I have seen it numerous times, and it always makes me cry. It’s one of the most famous sports films ever made. The film is based on the true story of Rudy Ruettiger, a young man who dreamed of playing football for Notre Dame since he was a child. From time to time he would tell others of his dream, only to be laughed at. With poor grades in school, no money (one of fourteen children), and only 5’6”, Rudy had gigantic obstacles in his path.

During high school Rudy did play football. He joined the Navy after graduation, went to work for the local power plant for a couple of years, and then decided to pursue his dream. He applied to Notre Dame only to be rejected. He attended community college for two years and worked hard at raising his grades. During this time, he persisted in applying to Notre Dame. His fourth attempt was a success.

He didn’t make the football team, but he did make the practice squad. Still, he never gave up. In his senior year, in their final game, the coach put Rudy on the field. He had finally fulfilled his dream and even scored a sack. Beloved by his fellow teammates, he was carried off the field on their shoulders. Almost twenty years later, the now famous film Rudy was born. He travels the country inspiring others with his story.

Rudy reminds me a lot of another young boy who went up against a giant. He’s the famous David who went up against Goliath. He too was laughed at when he accepted Goliath’s challenge. But he didn’t let that stop him. He knew God would give him the victory no matter the odds against him. We all know how that story ends.

I believe we all have a calling. Sometimes it seems unachievable to others who may even laugh at us. But, when God places a calling on our lives and a dream in our hearts, he will help us achieve it. I truly believe that God can make the impossible, possible. Luke 18:27 says, “What’s impossible with man, is possible with God.”

Just like a football player who holds on to the ball for dear life, we need to hold on to what God has put in our hearts and not let go. He will help us overcome each obstacle along the way and get us over the goal line.

Eight years ago my husband and I became first time dog owners of an approximately three year old female shih tzu. Twelve pounds at the time, we adopted her from a rescue group who pulled her from an animal shelter after she was found wandering the streets in a city about thirty miles away and went unclaimed at the shelter.

The rescue group named her Farrah because her hair reminded the rescue group’s foster mom of Farrah Fawcett, the beautiful actress from years ago with the long blonde wavy tresses. She is remembered for her famous 1976 image on the best-selling poster in history. When it came time to rename Farrah, I wanted something fun and different. The name “Fergie” popped into my head, and so it was.

Fergie is the calmest, most chilled out dog I’ve ever met. Even some of my husband’s friends have made the same comment. She always sleeps late and usually is in no rush to go out to do her business. She definitely has a lot of patience and self-control. She’s been such a blessing to us in so many ways. We’ve learned a lot from her over the years.

One such lesson my husband often speaks about revolves around Fergie’s behavior on her walks. When one of us takes Fergie for a walk, occasionally a much bigger dog, and sometimes one the same size or smaller, will be passing by on the opposite side of the street. Ordinarily it’s not an issue, but once in a while one of the other dogs will turn towards Fergie and bark at her in a loud angry way. Sometimes Fergie turns to look at the barking dog while she remains silent, and then just continues on her stroll. And sometimes she won’t even bother to look at the other dog at all as if he/she doesn’t exist. Fergie just keeps walking without acknowledging the barker, although she knows the other dog is speaking to her. In the meantime, the other owner is often trying to hold back their dog and get it to calm down.

Oh how we all could learn from Fergie whenever we have someone “barking” at us for whatever the reason. The bible says in Proverbs 26:20: “Without wood a fire goes out.” If we, as humans, would ignore the “barking” behavior towards us by someone else instead of “barking” back, the fire would die down.

Fergie’s demonstration of Proverbs 26:20 is one to emulate. It would definitely make for a calmer life for those who practice it. It’s certainly working for Fergie.

I was working as an Executive Assistant some years ago, when I received a phone call from my boss, Jane, who was vacationing in Germany. Sounding frantic, she told me how her pocketbook was stolen in a restaurant off the back of her chair after she stepped away. The purse not only contained cash and credit cards, but most importantly her passport.

Jane and her husband were scheduled to return home in two days. Without a passport, they would miss their flight. Because it was a holiday, the American Embassy was closed. She asked me to make several calls to see what I could do, and to also call the credit card companies.

I instantly thought of the many times I’d wasted hours looking for my misplaced car keys or something else I needed, only to resort to prayer when my own efforts failed. I always ended up finding the misplaced items, even if it took a while.

“Jane, I’m going to pray you get your pocketbook back. The thieves probably only wanted the cash. They probably dumped the purse somewhere.”

She was very pessimistic and dismissive about the possibility of ever seeing her pocketbook again, let alone her passport. But once she hung up, I bowed my head and whispered, “Dear heavenly father, you know where Jane’s pocketbook is, and that she needs her passport to return home. Your word says what is impossible with man, is possible with God. I pray you would return her passport to her and use this as a witness to Jane that you do answer prayer. In Jesus’ name. Amen.”

She called me several times over the next several hours, checking on the status of things. I just finished lunch when she called again.

“I’ve got my passport back,” she exclaimed.

“How?” I asked.

“The concierge in our hotel called to tell me that someone from a local church found it in one of the pews. Because I kept our hotel’s business card in my purse, they called me here. The only thing missing was the cash.”

“See, God does answer prayer,” I said with excitement.

Jane wasn’t convinced. To her it was a matter of good luck.

Philippians 4:6 says, “Do not be anxious about anything, but in every thing by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God.”

God wants us to pray about everything! We don’t have to accept certain negative or bad things that come our way as ‘that’s just the way it is, and there’s nothing we can do about it.’ We don’t have to give up hope. We have a heavenly father we can go to in our time of need, and not just as a last resort.

What we all need is just a little more faith.

I recently watched the interview of Squire Rushnell and Louise DuArt, authors of  the book, “Dogwinks,” a collection of inspirational canine stories. One of those stories is about a dog named Ruby.

A high energy Australian Shepherd and Border Collie mix, Ruby was returned to a New England area SPCA for the fifth time when she was only seven months old because of unmanageable behavior. Pat Inman, the woman who trained the SPCA dogs before they were adopted, was at their shelter when the manager told her Ruby was scheduled to be euthanized in several hours because of behavioral concerns.

“You can’t do that,” Pat yelled. She insisted that Ruby was very bright despite her uncontrollable behavior and should be given a chance. “Please call the Police Canine Unit,” she begged. The manager explained that he had contacted them before about taking one of their dogs, but without success.

“They buy $15,000 dogs bred specifically for search and rescue.”

“But can’t you at least try?” she pled.

“I’m sorry,” he replied.

After Pat left in tears, the manager relented and called the Canine Unit about Ruby. Little did the manager know that the Unit had been ready to purchase a purebred puppy, only to have their budget cut. No money. No purebred. They decided to take a chance on Ruby. They called Officer Dan, a State Trooper, whose dream was to be on the K-9 Rescue Team. He was paired with Ruby. After months of difficult training with Dan, Ruby achieved champion status.

Several years later Dan and Ruby were on a search and rescue mission looking for a local boy missing for 36 hours in the frigid evening temperatures. As they headed for the nearby woods, Ruby bolted from Officer Dan. When he caught up with her, she was at the bottom of a ravine licking the bloodied face of the still living boy. Officer Dan contacted his team to bring in a stretcher. When their GPS wouldn’t work, Officer Dan had Ruby bark until they could be located.

After the boy was sent to the hospital, Officer Dan headed for the parents’ home to give them the good news of how the Search and Rescue Canine Unit had located her son. As he was leaving, the mother asked, “Have you ever heard of a dog named Ruby?”

“That’s my partner.” Dan explained. “She’s the one who found your son.”

“I’m the one who pled for Ruby’s life when they were going to euthanize her,” the mother, Pat Inman, cried. “I always wondered what happened to her.”

“The dog you saved is the one who saved your son’s life.”

The story of Ruby, a National Search and Rescue Dog, is soon to be made into a movie entitled, “Rescued by Ruby.”

God tells us in Galatians 6:7: “A man reaps what he sows.” The scripture also goes on to say in verse 9: “Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up.” It may have taken a few years, but Pat was reaping a harvest from her efforts years earlier as she pled for Ruby’s life.

Years ago my Mom was visiting my husband and me for a month around Mother’s Day. “I would love to have a photo of my Mom,” she lamented. “The only one I had was ruined when I mistakenly left it in the pocket of my uniform at the orphanage. I’ve wanted one ever since.”

Mom and her five siblings were raised in orphanages and foster homes since she was a toddler during the Depression. They soon drifted apart. And Mom had only met her mother once while she was in foster care.

Growing up, Mom told us stories about her childhood, but we never met any of her family. I always wished I knew where Mom came from and who her parents were, and the whereabouts of her siblings. I don’t know why I never thought to look for them, especially since it bothered me that I hadn’t met any of them.

“I’m going to help you find a photo of your Mom.” With pen and paper in hand, I questioned her about her siblings. I scoured the internet for their whereabouts. Sadly, three of them were deceased. When I finally located the other two, neither possessed a photo of their Mom.

I searched for two years gathering a large amount of information which included school and orphanage records, birth and marriage certificates, etc. I also located some of Mom’s cousins who provided family photos, but none of my maternal grandmother. I had exhausted all options. Discouraged, I hit my knees and prayed, asking God to help me find a photo of my grandmother. I knew He knew where I could find one!

Days later I received a phone call from one of mom’s cousins I had written to the prior week. She had been working on the family’s genealogy for years and accumulated volumes of information in addition to numerous photographs. Later that night she emailed me a beautiful photograph of my grandmother taken when she was the maid of honor at her sister’s wedding. She was sixteen years old and standing next to the bride and groom. I called Mom.

“Mom, I’m looking at a beautiful photo of your mother!” I cried. Mom was on the other end of the call crying as well. I mailed her a copy the very next day. The following month I held a family reunion and invited my newly found relatives. That Christmas I presented Mom and each of my siblings with a binder filled with photographs, documents, and stories about the relatives we never knew.

Now we no longer wonder where she came from or what happened to her family, and I have my genealogy dating back to the 1800s, including photographs of my grandparents and great-grandparents. What started out as a quest for a photo turned into so much more.

Ephesians 3:20(a) says, “Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine.” God certainly did that in this case.

A few months ago my husband and I watched an incredible documentary entitled “Harry and Snowman” about a horse trainer and his beloved horse. A moving Cinderella story, I was surprised Hollywood hadn’t made it into a movie for the big screen (“hint, hint”).

In the mid-1950s Harry de Leyer, a riding instructor at a prestigious all girls boarding school on the East Coast, was on his way to a horse auction. Late to the auction due to a flat tire, the remaining horses were boarding a trailer headed for the slaughterhouse. Harry locked eyes with a beautiful white horse and asked if he could take a better look at it. After the horse was unloaded, their eyes met once again. Seconds later their fates were changed. Harry paid $80.00 for the eight-year-old horse, previously used as a plow horse, and named him Snowman.

Shortly thereafter Harry turned Snowman over to a farmer who lived five miles away as payment of a debt. Harry had previously promised to give the farmer his next horse acquisition. Several days later, Snowman jumped the fenced and galloped the five miles to Harry’s doorstep. Harry returned Snowman to his owner with the suggestion that the new owner build a taller fence, which he did. A few days later, Snowman once again showed up on Harry’s doorstep. This time, Harry suggested the owner tie a large tire to a long rope tied to Snowman to keep him inside the corral. Once again, Snowman jumped the high fence, tire in tow, and showed up at Harry’s home, still attached to the rope and tire. Harry promised Snowman he would never part with him again. He paid the farmer for the debt and kept Snowman.

Snowman became the family’s pet. But realizing Snowman had a talent for jumping, Harry began to train him and soon after entered him into jumping competitions. And Snowman won. Again and Again. In two years, he went on to become the Open Jumper Champion two years in a row. Snowman became famous with television appearances, his own fan club, being the subject of magazine articles and books, and so much more. After he retired, he remained with Harry until his death at twenty-six.

Snowman’s story made me think about myself before I became a Christian. I was a “plow horse” just plodding along in life not fulfilling my real purpose until I became a Christian and asked for God’s direction in my life. I wonder how many others go through life never fulfilling the things God planned and purposed for them because they’ve never asked him what he wanted them to do with their lives.

Ephesians 2:10 says: “For we are his workmanship, created in Christ Jesus unto good works, which God hath before ordained that we should walk in them.”

While I didn’t become famous like Snowman, I did appear on television (twice on The 700 Club), and authored an award winning book. And we both have our similar Cinderella stories to inspire others.