Heather Holleman's Blog, page 111

It May Take Longer. And You’ll Need Support.

We still go on our neighborhood “loops”–the mile walk that we sometimes do 5 times a day. But with snow, ice, and bitter cold temperatures (feels like 5 degrees today), we remind ourselves of the motto, “There’s no bad weather, just bad clothing.”

So we bundle up. And with the ice? We take it so slow. And we have to hold on to one another (mostly so I don’t slip).

I think life is like this sometimes: You’re still on your journey forward, but during some seasons, things take longer. It’s a time to go slowly. And you need to hold onto someone to get by. This is true of challenging and confusing seasons of life. But step by step, you still press on.

Even More Awe on Christmas

I learn something my sister heard from her pastor during their Christmas Eve service about the baby Jesus last night. Read this article called “Signs for the Shepherds” https://compass.org/signs-for-the-she... to be even more amazed about the Christmas story. 

Essentially, I learned why it was a sign that Jesus was in a manger wrapped in cloths. What would make that a sign to the shepherds? Why would they worship a baby in cloths in a manger? It has everything to do with the shepherds raising flocks of sheep. From this flock, the priests would discover their unblemished, sacrificial lamb for the sin offering. The article explains:

When the lamb was born and if it was without blemish, it was immediately wrapped in strips of cloth made from old priestly underwear. The purpose was to make sure the lamb would stay unblemished. The priest would then put the lamb in a manger to keep it safe from getting trampled.

When the shepherds came to find the baby in the manger, the baby in the cloths, the baby in the place of the sacrificial, unblemished lamb, they bowed down in worship. They were worshipping the Lamb of God! The sign was the manger and the cloths. They knew what it meant, and they worshipped.

 

 

 

The Gifts For You

This morning I woke up thinking about all the good gifts God gives. If your Christmas looks sparse this year, maybe this will encourage your heart. I tried to remember the times in scripture you hear about God’s gifts. Besides the obvious gifts given to us by the Holy Spirit to serve others, Paul’s tell us about even more: he writes about the “indescribable gift” of God’s surpassing grace in 2 Corinthians 9:14-15. I then think about Peter telling people for the first time in Acts about this marvelous “gift of the Holy Spirit.” I found the word again in Romans where Paul describes the “abundant provision” of the “gift of righteousness.” Finally, I think of John’s stunning vision in Revelation where he writes, “The Spirit and the bride say, ‘Come!’ And let the one who hears say, ‘Come!’ Let the one who is thirsty come; and let the one who wishes take the free gift of the water of life (Revelation 22: 17).

Each day, we open these abundant and indescribable gifts of grace, of the indwelling Holy Spirit, and righteousness.

A Walking Song: A New Road or Secret Gate

I recently thought about the Tolkien’s “Walking Songs” that hobbits sing as they walk. In one Walking Song, we hear this:

Still round the corner there may wait

A new road or a secret gate

I love the hope in this song. I love the sense of nearing adventure, of mystery, of newness. I love approaching the day like a corner I’m rounding. I open my eyes to new roads and secret gates.

Finding Others (Or Else We’re Plum Trees)

Guess what? My beautiful, glorious plumcot tree that I grew from a seed and planted in the spring will not produce fruit on its own. I need another plum tree of a different variety to cross-pollinate with my tree. In other words, my plum tree is what farmers call “self-unfruitful.”

Self-unfruitful. Have you ever heard the phrase?

I repeat: This tree will not bear fruit alone.

And I understand now that neither can we. We are as self-unfruitful as a plum tree.

In August, I tucked a few plumcot seeds in my fridge in a damp paper towel I then placed in a little bag. I checked them a few days ago. They were already sending out roots! (Normally, this takes 6 months, so my seeds sprouted early; these seeds have a “chilling requirement” which is why I place them in the refrigerator.) My daughter who knows everything about plants told me it was time. They wanted to be planted and needed sun since a little green popped out of one seed. So I planted. I watered.

And today? This:

In springtime, I’ll plant my second plum tree. And I’ll remember God knows we cannot bear fruit alone. We need others to aid our journey, to provide the cross-pollination of ideas, to fertilize our dreams with their energy and wisdom. We must find others of a different variety–older or younger and from a different background. We must find others who can stand beside us and support us. Without them, we are as self-unfruitful as a plum tree.

Sure we can grow tall and green and very beautiful. Others might even admire us. But we won’t bear any fruit that will last without one another and most importantly, without Jesus who says “apart from me you can do nothing.” I find Him afresh and look for others to journey beside me. And I wonder if–rather than looking at my own fruitfulness–I consider how God wants me to stand beside others and serve as their pollinator.

You’ll Always Need More Cookies

Every December 21 or so, I think I’m just about finished making Christmas cookies. Then I remember this neighbor or that friend. I think about all the cookies I might deliver! Even though I’ve been making dozens and dozens since December 1st, I know I’ll always need more. One can never have enough Christmas cookies at Christmastime.

I look at my stock of plates of cookies wrapped up with a golden bow, and I realize I’m already out of cookies. And it’s only Monday! A new friend stopped by my front porch last night with a loaf of cranberry walnut bread, so I grabbed some cookies to give to her—the last of the cookie presents. So I know my task: I make the dough this morning, bake the cookies in the afternoon, and I’ll ice and wrap them up tomorrow to keep on hand for last minute gifts, to eat ourselves, and to bless the neighbors. (And all of this in between making the Christmas Baked Ziti–a holiday favorite during the week of Christmas! What glorious smells from the kitchen!)

Living with flair means not running out of Christmas cookies. You’ll always need more.

Never Too Old to Play Like a Child

I’ve had a great day in the snow today:

The Gift of Surrender

This morning I remembered the simple but profound lyrics of Take My Life, and Let It Be written in 1874 by Frances Havergal. She wrote this hymn the year following her encounter with a tiny book called All for Jesus, by J.T. Rendford, which changed her life as she surrendered more fully to Jesus. These are the words Havergal read in All for Jesus: 

With all my soul I did, there and then, accept Him—my “Wisdom, Righteousness, Sanctification, and Redemption,” my Savior and my Lord; and I did, there and then, surrender myself to Him, utterly and unreservedly. Then the blessing came. I rose from my knees rejoicing! “Jesus is mine!” I could exclaim, “and I am His.” The uncertainty was gone. The doubts and fears had departed. I had passed beyond the “hoping” and “trusting”—at last, but surely. And now it was as though Jesus Himself was speaking to my soul, and I could hear His voice. Yes, the blessing had indeed come, and such a blessing! I found I had that “peace” which “passeth all understanding,” and that which is “unspeakable and full of glory.” Ever since that day I have been living a new life. I am so happy. “All for Jesus,” is my daily, almost hourly life. 

After Frances read this words, she wrote they “lifted her whole life into sunshine.” The next year, she wrote this hymn of beautiful surrender. As I read it, I thought of every area of my life I might surrender to Jesus more and more:

Take my life and let it be

consecrated, Lord, to thee.

Take my moments and my days;

let them flow in endless praise,

let them flow in endless praise.

Take my hands and let them move

at the impulse of thy love.

Take my feet and let them be

swift and beautiful for thee,

swift and beautiful for thee.

Take my voice and let me sing

always, only, for my King.

Take my lips and let them be

filled with messages from thee,

filled with messages from thee.

Take my silver and my gold;

not a mite would I withhold.

Take my intellect and use

every power as thou shalt choose,

every power as thou shalt choose.

Take my will and make it thine;

it shall be no longer mine.

Take my heart it is thine own;

it shall be thy royal throne,

it shall be thy royal throne.

Take my love; my Lord, I pour

at thy feet its treasure store.

Take myself, and I will be

ever, only, all for thee,

ever, only, all for thee. 

Admitting You’re a Writer (or Something Else)

When I coach writers who feel blocked in their writing or who find they cannot make the time to complete a writing project, I find a similar struggle across personalities. It’s normally about identity. It’s about admitting that you see yourself as a legitimate writer. When I ask a writer, “Do you allow yourself to believe you’re an author? Do you tell others that you are a writer? When others ask what you do, do you tell them you write?”

Maybe you never have. Well, it’s a new day.

Admit it: You’re a real writer. And guess what writer’s do? They write. 

(Maybe your issue isn’t about writing. Maybe it’s some other kind of work.)

I explain this to a new friend who just finished a professional writing course. He said, “Yeah, the writing teacher said to think about writers and how weird it is that they have writer’s block. You never hear about plumbers with plumber’s block or doctors with doctor’s block or electricians with electrician’s block. But writers have writer’s block. It’s because they don’t admit who they are.”

It made sense to me because once you admit you’re a writer, you’ll make time for it. It’s your legitimate work. You’ll invest in developing professionally as a writer. You’ll start seeing yourself differently. And you’ll act like a writer. Other professionals do this. Teachers do this. Business owners do this. Athletes do this. But writers? Writers feel guilty taking time to write. They feel blocked and like frauds and super insecure.

Maybe it’s time to admit you are the thing you want to be. You’ll find you move ahead in the direction of your dreams when you finally acknowledge who you are.

Snowy Neighborhood