Simply Truth

1/6/2015

The Lay of the Land

By Lyn Messersmith

Simply Truth

            We took a time out over Christmas. Ran away to a mountain cabin with relatives and relatives of relatives for three days, ate well, laughed a lot, expressed appreciation of one another, and refrained from second guessing politics. Well, I had better qualify that last statement. My son and his father in law declared they had solved all the world’s problems in the hot tub while recovering from an afternoon of skiing, but the rest of us weren’t party to the discussion.

            The TV was tuned to Nebraska’s game, and those that watched ended up pleased, but a couple of folks hadn’t even heard of the Mall of America shutdown, and didn’t take much interest in hearing about it when someone mentioned that bit of news. Sometimes you just need to ignore the hullaballoo and relax.

            The thing about a time out is this. You always have to get back in the game and take your chances on the outcome. We’re off and running now, into 2016, and the political issues are heating up. Some of us just want to bury our heads and go back to bed until the mess is over. Others want to argue with anyone who will participate. (Kind of reminds you of the candidates, doesn’t it?) Of course, neither option is productive or helpful. 

            It’s hard not to become cynical or just plain scared, when we hear of riots, protests, shootings and disruptions. The notion that such atrocities can’t happen here has long been disproved, and much as we might wish to help heal our society, it’s hard to imagine what one person can do to resolve the unrest.

            We were discussing these matters on the way home from our reprieve, perhaps in an effort to transition back into reality, when a billboard outside Hot Springs, South Dakota caught our attention.

            “All Lives Matter,” was the headline. Underneath were three words, and three pictures. 

            “Protect,” alongside a baby in the womb.

            “Teach,” with pictures of school aged children.

            “Honor,” beside a group of gray haired elders. 

I’ve no idea who, or what organization, may have sponsored that sign, but I can’t stop thinking about it. And that’s a good thing. I hope it makes some people question their attitudes. That others might draw their children into a conversation about it, and that more of us find creative ways to express values of hope and integrity.

Hope is alive and well, although we may need to hunt a bit harder for it these days. Chatting with a teenager who was working the ski concessions on Christmas Day, Bruce mentioned it was too bad she had to work on a holiday.

“Oh, no,” she said. “Somebody has to do it. And besides, look at all these happy people I get to be around.”

There are questions to be answered here. Do I protect, teach, and honor? Am I one of those happy people? Are you? If not, why not? It’s not rocket science, and for any of us who are confused, there are plenty of examples. Some are even teenagers.

Finding Christmas

12/23/2015

The Lay of the Land

By Lyn Messersmith

Finding Christmas

            My daughter says that she never knows when she’ll find Christmas, or even where, but each year there comes a moment when it magically appears. Perhaps you’re looking out on the meadow at a deer standing in softly falling snow, or the radio plays a favorite carol of your childhood. Maybe neighbor stops in to chat and brings a plate of fudge; suddenly the doldrums disappear and there’s kind of a glow on all the everyday things that surround you.

            It never occurs to children that Christmas could get lost, but as years wear on us and the world’s realities are sharper and less pleasant, the shine of this season often becomes tarnished. Or perhaps it is that we put aside a childlike attitude, forgetting that Christmas is really all about a Child.

            This year, there’s much to worry about; news that’s anything but good, the economy on a downward trend, and various businesses and learning institutions that forbid any display, or mention of Christmas lest someone be offended. It’s enough to make a body want to hibernate and wait till it’s all over.

Our holiday plans are on hold due to some unforeseen circumstances, and the uncertainty nearly had me convinced not to bother putting up a tree and the trimmings at the line camp where we pop in and out sporadically. It didn’t seem right not to; Dad always insisted on a tree in that house, but it wasn’t practical to go to the extra work, either.

Early in December, we were in Valentine doing errands and delivering gifts, then on to the ranch for an overnight, getting in just at dark. The outdoor lights are traditionally done by my son, so it was cheery welcome. Then grandkids hit the door, and after telling us it had been too long since we’d been there, the youngest wanted to know when we were going to decorate for Christmas. After all, their house had been decked out since Thanksgiving vacation, and mine looked pretty blah by comparison.

“After you have your supper,” I said. “Come back then, and we’ll make it happen.”

Supper must have gone down in a hurry, because they appeared shortly, along with their folks. While the adults chatted in the kitchen, the kids went downstairs for the makin’s and before I knew it the tree was decorated, door decorations hung, nativity set up, and angels grouped here and there on tabletops. It was fun to see where things were placed, and made me realize what a rut we get into sometimes about holidays. The tree doesn’t always have to be in a window, and angel figurines nestled under a lamp, rather than swinging from a branch is a nice reminder that they probably enjoy a bit of fellowship as much as we do.

I hadn’t exactly decided that Christmas was lost, but there wasn’t much ho-ho in my head until that evening. The kids knew where to find Christmas though. It was right there in the basement all the time.