I’m a reader. To a fault. The internet doesn’t help much either because now I have access to all kinds of book reviews and blogs and articles. I could read all day. Sometimes I do. That’s where the “to a fault” part comes in. *wink*

Right now I’m in the middle of the book Radical by David Platt. It’s a challenging read. And I don’t mean that it has big words that are hard to read or convoluted thoughts that are challenging to follow. I mean that it is challenging the hidden corners of my heart. The subtitle alone is enough to make you squirm a little bit: Taking Back Your Faith from the American Dream. Ouch. That’s a little bit, well, uncomfortable.

Like I said, it’s challenging. And I’m only in the second chapter.

As I read, I’m wondering what does it look like to take back your faith from the American Dream? I mean, put some flesh on that one. Who do I know that is living that way? Is this just another fad in Christian circles or is this something I can really do? I still have a lot of wrestling to do as I consider Platt’s ideas. I really think he’s on to something. But, more on that later.

In the meantime, I wanted to share an example of someone who IS getting a little radical. It might not be for everyone but it is a pretty cool story of a Kentucky couple and their unusual wedding reception. It came to me through my friend Kait, who knows the bride personally. Read on…

Tanya Ferguson and Christian Torp are getting married this coming Labor Day and are hosting their entire neighborhood at their reception in Lexington. Instead of handing out favors, they will hand out canned goods and clothing to those in need.

 “We wanted our wedding to be about more than a dress and a fancy dinner,” Tanya said. “We live in this community surrounded by people who work hard just to be able to put a hot meal on their table. What better opportunity to care for our neighbors than at our wedding, an occasion that’s supposed to be the happiest day of our lives!” The couple has invited local service organizations to attend as well.

 The couple has purposely chosen to live in the struggling William Wells Brown neighborhood so they can provide legal assistance and other forms of help to those without. The groom has formed his own law practice dedicated entirely to providing affordable law services. It has been no easy feat for him to achieve.

“We want our neighbors, the church and our love for people to intertwine,” said the bride. “We recognize that our neighbors are not a charity case, but are deserving of respect and dignity. We have spent time with many of them and look forward to living and working together for our community,” she added.

Sounds a little like taking back your faith from the American Dream, doesn’t it? If you’d like to participate, the couple is accepting donations of food, meal service items, clothes and canned goods. Monetary donations will be used expressly toward providing these items. Donations can be sent to P.O. Box 861, Lexington, KY 40588.

I’m intrigued by his quiet service. “Who is that guy anyway?”

He’s behind the project house stomping on pop cans for the recycling bin. No one knows he’s back there doing this thankless job. It’s only 1990 and recycling hasn’t even become very vogue yet. He’s alone in the alley and I watch him from my window. He in his Nike Vulturo hiking boots, cargo shorts and Denison tee. “Denison? Where’s Denison?”  I linger there a few minutes more and then on with my evening chores.

It was the summer between my sophomore and junior years of college.  I was far from home, living in a huge house with 90 other students from around the country – my friend Cheryle was the only other person I even knew. We were on an adventure with Campus Crusade for Christ. Little did I know all the ways that summer would shape my life…

Not the least of which was that Denison guy that I’d spied in the alley.

I hadn’t been looking for love. In fact, I’d started the summer dating someone else from my own college. He was a great guy but conversations with roommates, some soul-searching, and a “Dear John” letter led to the close of that relationship.

It wasn’t more than a few days after I’d sent said letter that I had been paired up with the Denison guy to go do spiritual interest surveys on the boardwalk in Atlantic City.

By this time I knew his name was Rick. We’d met in the lobby a few weeks earlier when his first words to me were “cop a squat” as he pulled up a bench for Cheryle and me. I in my navy blue, Delta Gamma pull-over, hoping that my Greek letters would hide all the apprehension and insecurity I’d been feeling at meeting 90 new people. “Cop a squat? What the heck does that mean? Sort of a weird thing to say.”

That survey pairing was just random; but, looking back, we’re pretty sure God had His fingerprints all over that one. For we talked in between surveys and something began to stir within both of us. Interest was piqued. Interest became pursuit. That pursuit was received and blossomed into romance. In time the romance became something deeper and love was born between us.

But it was more than a summer of young love. It was a summer of deep spiritual challenge as our director, Jim Sylvester, encouraged us to live in the shadow of God’s amazing grace. Not only for our own lives but he implored us to also take that grace to a parched and dying world.

Our fledgling relationship took root in that soil – right from the beginning we talked of living for something more than the proverbial picket fence. Of a life that revolved around Someone worthy of everything we had to give.

That was nearly 20 years ago.

Yesterday we celebrated 18 years of marriage. Eighteen years of covenant life together – no matter what has or will come. Eighteen years of letting Jesus chip away the junk in our lives bit by bit as we laugh and cry and agonize and rejoice through life together.

Coincidentally, we celebrated it with our Community Group serving a meal to homeless people in downtown Akron. No silver or candlelight or wine. Just plasticware with big pots of chicken soup, donated cornbread and jugs of red punch.

I’m not sure I’d have it any other way. In fact, as I looked across the cafeteria last night at my man talking with a young man who has spent the last seven of his 25 years in and out of prison, I was sure of it.

I think it’s exactly the best way we could have spent our anniversary.

Isn’t that what we said 20 years ago when two college students sat on the rock jetty, stared out into hugeness of God’s Atlantic Ocean and dreamed of living for something more than the picket fence?

Happy Anniversary, Denison guy…

___________________________________________________________

I’m adding to my gratitude list today. So thankful for 18 years with the man who still gives me butterflies… and for the life we have together.

Caleb’s best friend from 1^st grade was a boy from China. In 2^nd grade it was Song Jae from S. Korea. Not to mention other classmates like Shreya from India and Liza from Russia and Benil from Nepal and Ming Cho from China.

Then there’s Madison’s dear friends YuNing from Taiwan and Jun Sa from S. Korea and Alexa and Sergio, who are both from Mexico.

If I thought about it a little bit longer, I know I could think of other kids from other parts of the world. And, those are just the kids from other countries. They both also have friends who are Hispanic-Americans or who are Black or who were adopted from other countries but were raised in American families.

This racially-diverse environment is our public elementary school!!

And we love it. What a wonderful place for my kids to gain an appreciation for God’s creative design of people from every tribe, tongue, and nation in this beautiful world.

Last night we had an event at the school to celebrate that diversity – our international families bring a favorite dish from their country and the rest of us dig out a family tradition or an American favorite and we all come together for a meal.

As I stood in line with a man from Senegal and his Japanese wife and their two beautiful daughters, I was struck once again with what an amazing place this world is. How good of God to make people in such rich diversity – even among people of the same race, there is an incredible range and variety. A farmer has a totally different life experience than a man on Wall Street than an artist in Appalachia. And, yet, when we can appreciate those differences, we are all better-off for the variety.

As much I love the diversity in our school, I’m also mindful that the world can also be a very ugly place. I know that if I were to move to my one friend’s country, my family might be beaten and my husband slaughtered in the night because we have a Bible and believe in Jesus. Our own country’s history with slavery shows the uglier side of failing to give equal worth to all people.

I cling with tenacity to my Lord’s example. His love for all people. His sacrifice so that all might come to Him.

And, I enjoy this tiny glimpse into His amazing world. Right here in my own backyard – at a small school in Midwestern America.

By some religious calendars, today is called Epiphany.  It is a Christian feast celebrating the coming of the Magi (who were not Jews) to recognize Jesus as King. For us their visit signals the reality that Jesus came to all the world, for anyone who would believe – not just one nation.

In addition to the celebration, it marks the official end of Christmas and is sort of deadline for getting your Christmas decorations down. We’ve already boxed up ours… but several people have asked me about our nativity tradition so I thought I’d take today to share a bit more about it. Perhaps it’s an idea that you can file away for next year. (Actually, it’s a great time to buy the nativity set as most such items are being clearanced from toy store shelves right now!)

As I mentioned in my December 16^th post, we start with a Playmobile nativity set. It’s not the most beautiful set you’ll ever find but it’s pretty indestructible. It’s very hands-on and the kids love it. (In fact, a few years ago we bought a second set that sits in storage so that we can send each of the kids off with their own when they’re ready to start their family traditions someday.)

Right after Thanksgiving I set up the stable with the animals and even put the shepherd tending his sheep on a hill nearby. The scene stays that way until the evening of December 21^st when we start reading the Biblical account and adding figures to the scene.

On the 21st, we read Luke 1:26-38 and introduce Mary along with the angel. Rick reads the passage, allowing the kids to “act out” the characters with the Playmobile figures. We highlight the fact that “nothing is impossible with God” and I close by praying.

On the 22nd, we read Matthew 1:18-24 and introduce Joseph (also with the angel). On this night we underscore the angel’s message that Jesus is “Emmanuel, God with us” and that “He will save his people from their sins.”

On the 23rd we read Luke 2:1-7, which is the account of Jesus’ actual birth. I know, I know. Christmas isn’t until the 25^th, right? Why are we reading about the birth on the 23^rd?I assure you, there is a method to our madness! This schedule allows us to finish the story on the 25^th with the record of the Magi and the exchanging of gifts.

On the 24^th,we read Luke 2:8-20 and talk about the shepherds. Rick and I love this part of the story because it underscores the fact that the angels announced this amazing news to regular people. They didn’t go to the religious elite or announce it in the temple. The first hearers of the Good News were normal, work-a-day people like you and me.

On the morning of the 25^th we read Matthew 2:1-2 & 7-12 and introduce the Magi. We talk about their journey to find Jesus and their insightful gifts: gold, a gift for a King; frankincense, a gift for Deity; and myrhh, a gift for the dead. That’s our Jesus: King of Kings, God incarnate, and the One who die on our behalf.

Then we pray and exchange our own gifts.  

Caleb was 4- and Madison 2-years-old when we started this tradition. Both of them would tell you that it’s a favorite part of the holiday season for them. Usually they also get a glass of eggnog and a Christmas cookie after we read and we end the evening with hope and joy. Our conversations have gotten a little more intense as they get older and begin to really wrestle with the idea that God took on flesh and became a baby for our sakes. It’s fun for Rick and I to see the tradition growing with them a bit.

It’s a simple tradition and it’s certainly not the only one out there. I know other families who do other neat things to celebrate. Some years, we add other things to our Advent celebration. Those come and go as we see fit. But, this one is our constant and it helps us keep our eyes on Jesus in a very tangible way.

If it can serve you in some way, great. If not, thanks for letting me share a bit of our McKee family tradition with you.

The bulbs are packed, the teapot is back in its box, the decorations lovingly stored away. Another Christmas has come and gone. And with its passing comes a new year.

In many ways I’m ready for it. It always feels good to put the Christmas decorations away and get the house back in order after the holiday hoopla. The packing up also signals a welcome return to routines. The kids get back to school this coming week, our home & work schedules return to normal (whatever that is), and all the specials (special food, special programs, special celebrations) have past. Routine is a good thing for my heart.

I also love the prospect of a fresh new year. A blank slate of days. Can’t you just feel the hope that permeates the air at the start of a new year?

But, if I’m honest, I’m also not so ready for it. What if the hope just disappoints? What if all my dreams for 2010 fall flat on their face? In fact, what are my dreams for 2010? We’re already three days in to the new year and I haven’t really planned or reflected much. Can’t you just feel the pressure that threatens to paralyze your heart at the start of a new year?

I’ll be taking some time this week to plan and reflect. I’d rather tread slowly into this new year than make a list of resolutions that will overwhelm me or cause me to strive all the more. I’ve been there too many times and I know that the striving can only lead in two directions: either it makes me prideful or it crushes my spirit. Neither inspire me.

There are a lot of things I don’t know about 2010. But I do know that I want it to be a year marked by dwelling and depending. Dwelling with the Lord wherever He has me. And depending on His Spirit for a heart that reflects His.

As I reflect this week and set aside time to prepare for this new year, I’ll likely be blogging some of my thoughts here. As I do, I hope that you’ll join me in spirit. The start of a new year is a great time to pause and consider who you’re becoming and how you’re spending your short life on this earth. I’d love to hear your hopes and dreams for 2010. Feel free to comment or drop me an e-mail (shannon-mckee@sbcglobal.net).

Right now the trough is empty save a few handfuls of hay. The cow hovers nearby. A few sheep are on the hillside with their shepherd. In a week, it will be a different scene but for now, we wait. Waiting for Mary on her donkey and Joseph. For the starry host and the Babe.

It’s a tradition we started when Caleb was a toddler. Like so many of you, we were looking for a way to bring Christmas alive for our kids. Not the buying frenzy that Christmas has become. But, the real Christmas. The one that celebrates the mystery and glory of the God of the universe taking on flesh to live with us. And the Word became flesh, and dwelt among us, and we beheld His glory, glory as of the only begotten from the Father, full of grace and truth. – Jn. 1:14

How could we stay our hearts on that reality? How could we help our kids do the same? Afterall, the lure of gifts wrapped under the tree can be a lot more powerful in a young heart than a story about a baby born 2,000 years ago in a place we’ve never been for a reason that, while profound, can be a little hard for young minds to understand.

So we began to look for a nativity. There are some beautiful sets out there but we wanted one that they could play with. Something they could touch and interact with over and over again. (And, play they have. I’m pretty sure that Joseph and the angel did NOT have a swordfight with the shepherd’s staff in the Biblical record. But, it didn’t take our warrior-son Caleb long to figure out that it could be done in his account in our living room!)

We also decided to keep the manger empty. We wanted them to anticipate the coming. “When does Jesus come, Dadda?” “Patience. Mary and Joseph will come soon, as Christmas nears. You’ll just have to wait.”

And the waiting is good, I know. Admittedly, I’m not very good at it. I usually skip ahead about half-way through a book and read the last chapter because I can’t stand the anticipation. The not-knowing kills me. But, expectation and hunger can be a good thing. It reminds us that there is something more to come. Something left undone will finally be completed. The status quo isn’t the end-all.

Deep in our hearts, we sense that there’s more and we long for it. We wait for it.

And, so, we hope. Christmas reminds us of that. He came once 2,000 years ago. He left His throne and passed through the heavens to become a babe. A babe who would grow up to live the life that I should have lived and die the death that I deserved to die.

But, there is something more to come. He’s coming back. (I’ve read the last chapter!) The waiting isn’t over. I am still full of anticipation as I look for His return.  And I saw heaven opened; and behold, a white horse, and He who sat upon it is called Faithful and True; and in righteousness He judges… Rev. 19:11

And I heard a loud voice from the throne, saying, “Behold, the tabernacle of God is among men, and He shall dwell among them, and they shall be His people, and God Himself shall be among them, and He shall wipe away every tear from their eyes; and there shall no longer be any death; there shall no longer be any mourning, or crying or pain; the first things have passed away.” Rev. 21:3-4

 I still wait because the first waiting makes no sense without the second waiting.

In few days our trough will be full. Mary and Joseph will come to our creche and the kids will anticipate the arrival of our Playmobile Jesus. For now, the waiting will be over. We’ll rejoice in that birth. And, we will celebrate. It will be a great day.

But, all the while, we’ll be looking for His return. …and behold, a white horse, and He who sat upon it is called Faithful and True…

“The Pilgrims made seven times more graves than huts. No Americans have been more impoverished than these who, nevertheless, set aside a day of thanksgiving.” – H. U. Westermayer

I’ve started calling it the “Lost Holiday”. You know the one – it’s sandwiched in between Halloween and Christmas. It’s the one without much fanfare. There are no costumes or school parties. No candy to be hoped for and consumed. No presents under a tree, stockings stuffed to overflowing, or Toys R Us catalogs to peruse. In our consumer culture, Thanksgiving stands in the shadows of these other celebrations.

I’ve noticed that the eclipse has become more and more complete each year. American retailers set the pace for the rest of the country and, let’s face it, giving thanks is not really a big money-maker for them.

In most stores this year, the minute the orange and black trinkets were clearanced, the red and green decorations came out. I’ve heard Christmas music in at least one store and seen my fair share of Christmas advertising already.

And, we willingly follow their lead. One only need look down the street at yard after yard already decorated for Christmas.

Mind you, I’m not saying it’s wrong to be excited about Christmas. And, shame on me if I were to embrace a legalism about when we’re allowed to hang the Christmas lights and when we’re not. No, that’s not my aim.

My hope is simply to encourage a pause. Foremost, in my own heart, perhaps in yours as well. Could we just not eclipse the one day that we’ve set aside to give thanks? Will you join me as I quiet my heart this week and purpose to cultivate an attitude of gratitude? To slow down and reflect on the past year (or the past month or the past week) with a thankful heart. A grateful heart for all of it: the good, the bad, and the ugly in our lives.  

Maybe you’ll start a new family tradition that points you toward gratitude. Maybe you’ll spend a few more minutes praying to the One who gives so lavishly. Maybe you’ll stress a little less over the perfect centerpiece and just enjoy the simple. Maybe you’ll just look across the table and choose to see something precious in your spouse or your kids – a reminder of why you’re grateful for them in your life. Whatever it is, won’t you join me in recovering the Lost Holiday?

Maybe it will jump start a new thing in your life that moves out of one Thursday each year and into the very fabric of your life.

For now, I continue my gift list. I’m joining with others in an online Gratitude Community to reflect on the good gifts. Here is a smattering from this week:

• little second-grade friends for Madison to share life with
• piano music that calms my heart and ministers to my soul
• our Community Group and life stories that point to God’s glory
• one of the most beautiful Novembers of the last few years
• Fall hikes with the kids
• blogs and sites that allow me to benefit from the creativity of others
• reading that connects deeply and brings out the best in me
• colorful pens and papers
• finished projects
• father and son watching the Buckeyes together on Saturday

Sleepy girl, padding up the hallway with a smile already playing on her lips. “Happy Birthday, to me,” she sings with a grin. Bold at first and then a little embarrassed. Pausing to see if we’ll all join in and rejoice with her.

I watch her and ponder. On the one hand she’s altogether confident and free. Enjoying the safety of being known and loved. Secure in our relationships. And, then, in the same instant, a nagging wonder passes over her face. She’s asking: “Am I truly safe? Is it OK for me to be excited that it’s my birthday? Are YOU excited that it’s my birthday? Do you like me?”

Later, I watch her do it again. We’re at school delivering birthday treats to classmates and favorite teachers. So excited and confident, she makes a mental list. Principal, a few special teachers. She scoots right up to them with delight. Then the nagging fear again: “Do you care that it’s my birthday? That I love M&M cookies and brought one homemade just for you? Maybe I should retreat a bit afterall.” Timid Maddie peeks out to see if it’s safe.

Of course, you and I both know that she’s not the only one asking those questions.

It’s a funny thing we do, isn’t it? Longing to be known and yet a little fearful that being known will mean being rejected. In time, most people learn to hide from those nagging questions. To pretend they’re not there or to overcompensate so that they’re not so loud in our hearts. We push them aside but we all know that they’re still there. Whether we’re 8 or 88, we’re still wondering: “Am I loved? Can I do something that would make you stop loving me? Is it OK for me to be silly or to let you see my true heart?”

As I celebrate her birthday today, I pray that my Maddie would settle the nagging questions. I know that Rick and I play a role in that settling process. As do friends and family. We can help her feel comfortable in her own skin.

But, in truth, what she really needs to know is that the One who made her adores her. The One who knit her together those nine months in my womb, He loves her. He knows her – every nook and cranny of Madison McKee is intimately known and loved by the Maker of heaven and earth. He paid the ultimate sacrifice so that all the junk could be removed and she could stand before Him whole. Unfettered relationship. Knowing and being known. He’s not some far away, cosmic force. He’s her God. He’s here, bending over her as she sings. Giving her gifts far better than any we could afford: peace, joy, purpose, rest. Abundance. Every good and perfect gift comes from above. He will answer the nagging questions. He’s truly the only One who can.

Two boys traipsing around the wet yard together. Bare feet. Rain coats bundled tight. It’s pouring rain. You’re going to get the pine needles and grass clippings out of the drain at the back of the yard. “Dad,” he says, “someday when I have my own house…”

And so begins another life lesson. You’re teaching him as you go. What’s so special about cleaning out a drain? Nothing really. Unless you’re doing it with your boy. I’ve always admired that about you. You just sort of teach as a way of life. Oftentimes, it’s not an appointment or a curriculum that you devised. It’s just you, my pastor-teacher husband, spending time with your son as you go through life. And, in this case, it’s not something profound or deeply spiritual. You’re just explaining clogged drains and soppy yards.

But, then again, life is more than clogged drains. Your life reflects that too. Like the times during this week when you sat down with the Bible and continued to lead our family through Acts. No curriculum on this occasion either. Just God’s Word, a passionate teacher, and hungry hearts. I admire the way you’re able to take a big truth and put a simple phrase on it so that the kids remember it. “Don’t just follow the crowd, like they did at Ephesus,” you say. “Don’t follow the crowd,” they remember as they head off to play. It comes up again later when we are talking about a situation at school last year and the message is driven deeper. Life intersects lesson. “Don’t follow the crowd,” they remember.

But your words aren’t the only way you teach. Sometimes you teach them with your example. Like, when you intentionally leave the last pieces of your favorite licorice for each of them. They know black is your favorite so they note the sacrifice. Later, I notice them do the same thing for a buddy and I smile. Lesson learned.

Oh, don’t get me wrong, there are lots of things I love about the way you dad. Our weeks are full of laughter and snuggles and fun because of your fathering. But, on this Father’s Day, I’m particularly thankful for your intentional effort to teach the kids – about life, and character, and especially about Jesus. I learn from you as I observe you actively shaping their worldview. And, I know that I am a better mom because of your influence.

Happy Father’s Day to my Dude of Dudes. You are a wonderful gift from the Giver of all good things to Caleb and Madison.

1969. It was a time of great transition and turbulence in our nation.

We were in the midst of a controversial war. A new president had just taken office. An American astronaut became the first human to set foot on the Moon. The most famous music festival of modern times “WOODSTOCK” took place on a New York Farm in August with more than 350,000 avid music fans in attendance. The Pontiac Firebird Trans Am was introduced. The Beattles released Abbey Road and performed their last public concert on the roof of Apple records.

On this very day in 1969, tragedy struck when the Australian aircraft carrier Melbourne collided with the U.S. destroyer Frank E. Evans in the South China Sea and 74 U.S. sailors were killed.

But June 3, 1969, was significant for another reason. On the other side of the world, another event was taking place. A smaller, but no less profound, moment in time. It was a short ceremony between a man and a woman who were pledging to walk through life together from that moment until death. It probably took less than half-an-hour. There were very few witnesses – they waited to tell family and friends until after the ceremony. There was no wedding party. Not much pomp. She wore a simple, stylish white dress instead of a wedding gown. He a coat and tie instead of a tuxedo. She was a recent high school grad from a simple, country town. He a recently enlisted private in the US Army. Within a few short days they would load everything they owned into their corvette and drive across the country to Fort Carson in Colorado Springs, Colorado.

They didn’t know it at the time for they didn’t give Him much thought, but God was presiding over that moment. He was there, uniting two distinct lives into one flesh. It would be years before they would invite Him from the fringes of their lives into their own hearts and, ultimately, to the Center of their family; but as they celebrate 40 years of marriage today both will readily admit that His grace was there all along. Wooing them; sustaining them; teaching them; even protecting them from themselves!

Today their marriage is a living testimony to the way that God’s grace can so permeate a marriage that by watching it, one gets a glimpse of God’s relationship with His bride, the Church. Their marriage is a picture of God’s greater story.

He by creating a safe haven where she can grow and flourish. Giving her time and encouragement to develop her gifts and passions. Leading with the heart of a servant. Listening to her perspectives and ideas.

She by willingly submitting to his leadership – even when it means a risk for her. Cultivating a dwelling that he loves coming home to. Pursuing excellence to bring him honor.  Biting her tongue when needed. Respecting his thought and initiative in their family and church.

In many ways on this day in 2009, we could say theirs is a charmed life. They are young for empty-nesters and are embarking on a whole new phase of life together.

When he comes home at the end of the work day, she has a creative meal ready and they have great conversation while they sit at the table together – each genuinely interested in the other’s day. Some nights they work in the yard together. Some nights they help a neighbor mow his meadow or serve in their church together. Some nights they simply sit on the deck and listen to the sounds of the woods behind their house together.

They have learned the art of good conversation as well as the ability to sit together in silence. They know each other’s quirks and rhythms – and they’re OK with those. Afterall, they have 40 years of history and practice. 

As I reflect on their marriage, I’m grateful for this legacy. I know that it wasn’t always a charmed life. Like every couple, they entered marriage with their own selfish ambitions and perspectives. Their foundational years were ones of holding God at bay. They were young and spent their first two years displaced from family and friends. Within a few months of saying “I do”, they were pregnant with their first child and then dealing with all the transition a new baby brings. In the years that followed, they would have their share of relational and financial strain. By today’s standards, they could have bailed at any time. But they stuck it out.

And, they didn’t just learn to live together. They learned to live together WELL. Like one of those great, beautiful trees that offers shade and safety and splendor for others. All that cultivating and pruning through all those seasons, year after year, has produced a bountiful harvest.

That harvest is the most precious gift they will ever offer me. For I was that first-born child. For 39 of those 40 years, I’ve been watching and learning. I paid attention as the tree grew. I enjoyed the protection of its branches and the beauty of its fruit. And, now, 17 years into growing my own tree, I will continue that legacy.

Let this day be full of revelry and celebration – both of the tree and the amazing grace of God that has nourished it these 40 years.