You've heard the story about the little girl who asked her momma why they always cut the end off the Christmas ham, right? No? Well, she asked, and her momma said, "Because that's the way grandma taught me." So the little girl goes to her grandma and asks why they cut the end off the ham, and the grandma replies, "Because that's the way my momma taught me to do it." So the little girl asks her great-grandma why they always cut the end off the ham, and great-grandma answers, "I have no idea why your grandma and your momma cut the end off their hams. I did it because my pan was too short."

It's easy to let ourselves get stuck in a mental rut (perhaps that's what those weird wrinkles are on our brains), plodding along on the same limited course day after day. We get a certain idea in our heads about how things are going to go, and then we're frightened, frustrated, and disappointed when circumstances change.

If you suffered through my whiny Christmas post last week (I apologize, by the way), you got an ugly picture of that kind of blockheaded thinking. I felt trapped in a circumstantial snare, helpless and without options, like a fly in a web, just waiting for the spider to come and finish me off.

Don't you love how our Bible story pictures are full of white guys?

I ended up in 2 Chronicles 20. According to the story, the people of Judah were facing imminent destruction at the hands of three armies. King Jehoshaphat, the Bible says, "feared, and set himself to seek the Lord..." He then prayed what might be one of the greatest prayers of faith in the whole Bible.

"O our God, will You not judge them? For we have no power against this great multitude that is coming against us; nor do we know what to do, but our eyes are upon You." That's right, it's perfectly all right to go to God and say, "I have no idea what to do, but I trust You, Lord." God responded to Jehoshaphat's prayer through one of His prophets, saying, "...Position yourselves, stand still and see the salvation of the Lord, who is with you."


If an attacking army is headed your way, and you are more or less defenseless, isn't running away, or at least ducking into a hidey-hole the sensible thing to do? There's the rub. The sensible thing (the one possibility we see with our limited knowledge and ability) is not the only possible solution, it's just the only one you can see at the moment. I was watching my SIL play video games the other day, and it occurred to me that until you've played the game a few times you don't know all the tricks and turns and possibilities. In fact, today's games are so complex that the possibilities for action and reaction are almost limitless. I find it intimidating, but I'm from the Pac-Man generation: one screen, one character, a few bad guys, and only four directions to choose from.

How many of us are living our lives in that Pong/Pac-Man/Space Invaders kind of thinking, when we serve a completely limitless, endless-possibility kind of Lord and Savior?


Anyway, back to our story ... In response to the instructions from the prophet, Jehoshaphat did something completely bizarre. He took his praise and worship team and put them out on the front lines. (He had to have had some really, really, loyal and trusting music ministers.) And when they began to sing and praise "the Lord set ambushes against the people ... who had come against Judah; and they were defeated." 

Having endured a few middle school band concerts and an opera or two, I can imagine the kind of music that would wipe out an entire army, but I don't think it was the music that took out the opposition. It was the POSITION they took of trust and praise in God and not trust in themselves or their weapons or their prowess with the sword and bow that gave them the victory.

The enemy of our souls sends his threats and his lies to terrorize us, circumstances come up in our faces because of the broken world in which we live, we make foolish mistakes and fall in holes of our own design, and we can see no way out, no way of escape. Ever been there?



THIS (above) is not the answer.
For some, tragically, the despair and hopelessness becomes so great they choose any way out they can find. Others run like scared rabbits. Some folks just freeze up and stop functioning. Others lash out in fury at anyone and anything in their path. The temptation is great, but the results are lousy.

Let's encourage one another, especially our friends and acquaintances and loved ones who are discouraged and frustrated by the mountains, or the advancing army, or the Red Seas in front of them, to keep our eyes and hearts and minds open to fresh ways of thinking and acting, new instructions (or old ones you haven't obeyed) to follow, even when those ideas seem contrary to the way we've always done things. Instead, tune in to that still, small voice in your spirit. I believe He's saying something to those facing apparently impossible situations:

"Don't panic, just trust Me. There's more than one way to skin this (proverbial) cat."




 

I so wanted to come up with a deep, spiritual post for the letter Y. Not because Y is particularly spiritual, but because I was told Sunday that my posts are "light and humorous" compared to my hubby's "serious" posts on Facebook. *sigh*

The funny thing? Face to face, hubby is the light and humorous one, and I'm perpetually serious (read: bland). Or that's how it seems, anyway. Perhaps our alter egos appear when we're online?vThat said, my "Y" post for this week's a2z4u and me meme is about yams. Yep, yams.


My momma is from Kentucky. And I don't just mean she lived there for awhile when she was little. After doing some genealogical research this year, I learned that my ancestors were in Kentucky when no other white folk were there, just Indians. Apparently, they liked the wilderness, as Kentucky was then considered.

This, perhaps, explains my fondness for horse racing, mint juleps, and my ability to make really good biscuits. Or perhaps not. Whatever. Anyway, one of our Thanksgiving staple side dishes when I was growing up was candied yams. I thought everyone ate candied yams for Thanksgiving (and Christmas).

Candied Yams (my mom's version)

• Large-size can of yams (or more, depending on how many are coming for dinner)
• Butter (real butter, of course)
• Brown sugar (lots)
• Bag of miniature marshmallows 

Empty yams into a casserole dish, liberally sprinkle with brown sugar and chunks of butter, then top with marshmallows. Bake at approximately (this was never quite clarified) 350 degrees for about 1/2 hour. Or so. The best round I ever had was the year I baked them without the marshmallows, then added the marshmallows and broiled for a couple minutes. Yummy.

Anybody else have a collection of charmingly non-specific family recipes? You know, the ones with direction that include random measurements, times and temperatures?

Our first Thanksgiving dinner as parents was spent at home, because our 7-month-old daughter awoke with her first bout of stomach flu. (Yes, we stayed home. In later years with additional children, we headed for grandma's anyway. She was less distressed by vomit than I was.) I sent hubby to the store for the essentials and created what I thought was a suitable Thanksgiving dinner at the last minute ... roasted chicken (they were sold out of turkeys), and mashed potatoes, and green beans, and of course, the yams. (Do you remember Visions glass cookware? It was a wedding gift.)

To my surprise, hubby was not impressed by the candied yams. Regardless, for the past 20+ years, I've made the silly things, reducing the amount every year after realizing they will only be eaten by yours truly. And by my father-in-law. (Mom and Dad stopped "doing" holidays years ago.)

I've since added other ingredients, depending on the year ... crushed pineapple, a hefty dose of Kentucky whiskey, nutmeg, cinnamon ... attempting to adjust the recipe to appeal to the masses, to no avail. I'm still the only one who eats 'em.

Now, if I make baked sweet potatoes (aka yams, out here in Colorado), or oven-baked sweet potato fries, some of my kids will eat those. This year, I don't know ... I might just forget them altogether. It seems silly to make an entire side dish just for the sake of tradition.

Which makes me wonder ... how many of our church traditions are irrelevant to the masses, to the newly saved, or to those we attempt to reach by promoting those traditions?


Do you have holiday traditions from your childhood that had to be adapted after you got married and/or had kids?