This Writer's Prayer

Dear Heavenly Father,

First, I come before Your throne to worship You, for You alone are worthy of my worship. You are holy. You are sovereign. You are Creator God in Whose image I am made.

I thank You for Your mercy and grace and for the many gifts You bestowed this year, in both my personal life and my professional life.

Now I pray that You will continue to lead in 2011. This time next year may I be able to look back and see Your hand in every aspect of my life, including my writing, storytelling, and teaching. Be Thou my vision! Guide my words, my steps, my attitudes, my imaginings, my encounters.

Life in You is a great adventure! I look forward to the next leg of this journey Heavenward. Be glorified!

In Jesus' precious Name . . . amen.

Dear gentle reader, may you, too, have a very blessed New Year.

I invite you to stop over at Hoosier Ink, where I just posted a related article. Thank you. And thank you for visiting Sharon Kirk Clifton, Writer and Raconteur. I hope you'll continue to do so.

Write on!
Because of Christ,
Sharon

Christmas Reflections: Five

The Christ of Christmas

[First appeared December 2009 on this blog]

 

The house is quiet in this predawn hour. Soon my grandsons will come bounding down the stairs and into my room. "It's Christmas, Gran'ma! Merry Christmas," they'll shout. The day will get busier from that moment, so I am snatching this brief time to write the final entry in the "Christmas Reflections" series.

This posting should have been finished by now, but I couldn't find direction. As a writer and storyteller, I had no trouble putting myself in Mary's place. I could imagine her, propped up against the rough boards of a stall, still perspiring from the labor of giving birth, cradling her newborn son in her arms while she examined every wrinkle and pore of His face--the face of God. I could see her bending to drink in His sweet scent and kiss the hollow at the bridge of His nose. I envisioned her slipping aside her robe just enough to put Him to her breast, giving sustenance to the One Who had created her. No doubt she pondered the words of the angel Gabriel, who told her, "He shall be great."

But this was no ordinary baby. With the conception of Jesus, Almighty God condescended from His position to take on human flesh and enter the world of man. The details of His coming were foretold by God Himself, as He escorted Adam and Eve from the Garden of Eden, and through His prophets throughout the Old Testament. I love Luke 4:16-22, which says:

And he came to Nazareth, where he had been brought up. and as was his custom, he went to the synagogue on the Sabbath day, and he stood up to read. And the scroll of the prophet Isaiah was given to him. He unrolled the scroll and found the place where it is written, "The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me to proclaim good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim liberty to the captives and recovering of sight to the blind, to set at liberty those who are oppressed, to proclaim the year of the Lord's favor."

And he rolled up the scroll and gave it back to the attendant and sat down. And the eyes of all in the synagogue were fixed on him. And he began to say to them, "Today this Scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing."

The Christ did not come to be a cute, giggling, wriggling baby for everyone to coo over. The manger stood in the shadow of the cross. The captives? The blind? The oppressed? That's mankind. Me. You. We are held captive by sin. We are willfully blind to His truth. We are oppressed by our own wickedness. Jesus was born to die on the cross to take away the sin of all who repent and believe in Him. He then conquered Death and Hell by resurrecting from the tomb.

Two millennia ago, a baby was born under humble circumstances to a peasant girl, a virgin until after His birth. That baby is the King of kings, and his prophesied return is imminent. Indeed, the King is coming!

 

Christmas Reflections: Four

  Nylons for Lunch

I always knew that Santa Claus was a wonderful fantasy. Mama never took me to sit on his lap, at least not that I can recall. Perhaps she wanted to protect me from the disappointment of a nearly giftlessgiftless," because I usually got something practical--a new pair of oxfords from Schiff's Shoes, a cozy flannel nightgown from Grant's, or a blouse from Kresge's dimestore. It was never anything frivolous such as a transistor radio from Sears'. Christmas morning. I say "nearly

My gifts to Mama were handmade in the early years. After all, one would have to collect a ton of empty bottles to get anything really nice. I was in junior high when I decided that she deserved something better than a potholder woven on a borrowed toy loom or a boot-scraper crafted from pop bottle lids nailed to a small square of plywood. (After all, we lived in the heart of downtown New Castle, Indiana, so we seldom had mud on our shoes, and any snow that might be on them would melt away long before we had trudged up the three flights of stairs to our apartment.) But what could I get her, and how could I pay for it?

I began to walk the aisles of the stores looking for just the right present. One day I decided to go into Mary Woodbury's, the finest ladies' apparel shop in town. How brazen of me to even walk through the heavy brass and plate-glass door! The floor was carpeted in some plush stuff. My oxfords sank in up to the laces. Soft music played in the background. An intoxicating fragrance filled the air. I inhaled deeply, trying my best to be quiet about it. It would never do to sniff loudly in Mary Woodbury's.

I couldn't stand there and take root in the rug, so I forced myself forward to the perfume counter. Mama liked perfume, though I'd never known her to wear anything but Coty's L'Oreal, which was sold at the corner drugstore.

"May I help you?"

I turned to see a well-dressed sales clerk with meticulously coiffed hair. At least, I assumed she was a sales clerk. Could it be Mary Woodbury herself? Suddenly I felt like a ragamuffin who had wandered in off the street . . .which was exactly what I was.

"I . . .uhm . . ." Quickly, I picked up one of the perfume bottles. "Can you please tell me how much this is?"

"Yes, miss. That would be eight dollars." I gulped and hoped she hadn't heard. "Shall I wrap it for you?"

"Uh . . .no, thank you. I think I'll keep looking."

Next to the perfume was the hosiery counter. I walked over to take a look. The clerk stayed right with me. She showed me a pair of Van Raalte nylons that came in a box with tissue paper. How elegant! How perfect for Mama! And they were . . .possible . . .if I really saved. A mere two dollars and ninety-nine cents.

The junior high had no cafeteria, so Mama gave me a quarter everyday for lunch at one of the numerous hamburger joints within walking distance of the school. Doug's, with it's killer hamburgers and steaming chili, was my favorite. Both the burgers and the chili were fifteen cents apiece. During this parsimonious time, I got one or the other and drank water. Thus I was able to stash a dime per day for the Van Raaltes. As Christmas drew closer, I skipped lunch all together. The thought of Mama's getting all dressed up to go somewhere, slipping on those luxurious stockings, and asking me to fasten the clasp of her double-strand graduated pearls (a remnant of more prosperous years) helped me forget my growling stomach.

Two days before Christmas, I walked into Mary Woodbury's and up to the hosiery counter with cash in hand. The same clerk came up to me.

"I would like one pair of the Van Raalte hose, size 9, in taupe, please."

I could have sworn the clerk was pinching back a smile, but she may have just stifled a burp. "Would you like that gift-wrapped, miss?"

I stood on tiptoe and leaned over the counter so that only she could hear me. "Is that extra?"

"No, miss."

"Then, yes, please."

On Christmas morning, Mama ever so delicately loosened the tape of the silver-wrapped Van Raalte box, pausing only to notice the embossed Mary Woodbury's sticker near the bow. Memories of those afternoon hunger pangs vanished in the light of her smile. It was absolutely delicious.

Merry Christmas, Mama. I love you.

Snow Day...

Photo by Brian Tang

Dear God,

I just got the call. School is canceled for today because of snow. But Lord, it's the last week before Christmas break. It's also semester's end. We have so much to accompli . . .

 Be still and know that I am God.
Yes, Lord, I do know that, but today the seventh- and eighth-graders were to plan their homecoming float, and I'm . . . well, I'm the faculty sponsor for that, and . . .

 Have fun in the snow I have sent. It is a gift of the season.
Oh, it is beautiful, Lord, but my students were to recite their Poetry Out Loud poems today, so they'll be ready to . . .

 Today, be at peace. Meditate on My Word. 
I love to do that, Father. So often it seems I'm too busy to spend the time I want and need in Your Word, but I have one novel and one play I'll be teaching second semester, and I've never read the nov . . .

  Photo by Brian Tang

Creation pauses on days like this to take notice. My child, take notice!
Oh, and I need to talk with my tenth-grade honors class about . . .  Finals are this week!

Take a walk in the snow with your grandchildren, more gifts from Me. Write. Read. Watch a good movie.
Thank You Lord, for this wonderful snow day. This truly is the day that Thee, Lord, has made! Amen.

Dear gentle readers, what are you doing on this fine "snow day"? I'd love it if you'd tell us about it in the "Comments" section. 
 

Christmas Reflections: Three

A Birth Most Imminent

Just hear those sleigh bells jinglin', a ring-ting-tinglin', too. Come on, it's lovely weather for a sleigh ride together with you.

It was a cherished ritual with us--myself and my two daughters. At least once a Christmas season, we would bundle up against the cold, get in the car, and take a grand light tour, stopping off first at a gas station for tall, steaming cups of some specialty holiday coffee or cappuccino. Then, with music of the season playing in the background and us joining in, we'd head for the most spectacular displays we could find, the ones where folks stopped their cars, dimmed their lights, and sat for awhile to take it all in.

You know the spot. You have one in your town, most likely. Perhaps it is a neighborhood where on a special night the streets and walkways are lined with luminarios. Or maybe it's the home of a retired man whose hobby is converting his garage into Santa's workshop and his lawn into a quiet Bethlehem scene once a year.

Giddy-yap, giddy-yap, giddy-yap! Let's go! Let's look at the show. We're ridin' in a wonderland of snow.

We usually visited the flashiest displays first, before wandering onto quiet streets. One night, colored lights shone through a fresh layer of snow, turning neighborhoods into a surrealistic winter wonderland. We rolled the car windows down, willing to endure the cold in order to hear the sound of our tires crunching snow. The icy glow of a nearly-full moon added to the mystery of the scene. We were in an upscale suburb, and most of the properties were decorated to some degree. Brightly-lit Christmas trees stood where they could be seen from the street, electric candles glowed in each window, and wreaths of fresh evergreenery hung on heavy doors of wood and brass.

Let's take the road before us and sing a chorus or two. Come on, it's lovely weather for a sleigh ride together with you.

One house stood out for its lack of adornment.

"Stop," I said to my older daughter who was driving. "Let's go back to that house."

Both daughters asked why. "I can't explain it, but I just think that we should carol the people who live there."

My younger daughter who was sitting in back leaned forward. "Do you know them?"

"No. That doesn't matter."

We went back, parked the car, and walked up to the door. I knocked firmly, and, without waiting for an answer, we began to sing in three-part harmony, as we often did at church.

Silent night. Holy night.

The door opened, and there stood a young man and his wife. He had his arm around her to warm her.

Away in a manger, no crib for a bed. The little Lord Jesus lay down His sweet head.

The young woman looked up at her husband and smiled.

We wish you a merry Christmas! We wish you a merry Christmas! We wish you a merry Christmas and a happy new year!

"Thank you. Thank you so very much," said the woman. "I'm in labor. We're on our way to the hospital. And I was not looking forward to the ordeal ahead of me. But I know I can make it, now. I really needed to hear your lovely caroling."

"Yes," the man said. "Thank you. And merry Christmas to you, also."

On our way out of that neighborhood, God gave us another blessing. A family of deer numbering seven or eight wandered onto a broad, snow-covered lawn just as we were about to pass. Again we stopped the car and dimmed the lights. The deer lingered, watching us watching them. For several minutes we sat there, sipping the last of our drinks, cold by now, before heading for home.

There's a birthday party at the home of Farmer Gray. It will be the perfect ending of a perfect day.

Christmas Reflections: Two

The Candies of Christmas

These are a few of my favorite Christmas recipes.

Martha Washington Creams

2 lbs. sifted confectioners' sugar

1 can sweetened condensed milk

2 cups flaked coconut

1 stick butter (not margarine)

3 cups chopped pecans

1 jar drained maraschino cherries (pat dry with paper towel), snipped or chopped finely

Dipping chocolate

Mix all ingredients together; shape into balls; chill until hard. Dip chilled balls in dipping chocolate and let cool. Store in airtight container in refrigerator.

Haystacks

1 cup semi-sweet chocolate chips

1/2 cup chunky natural peanut butter

2 cups chow mein noodles

Microwave the chocolate chips and peanut butter just until melted. Stir together. Add chow mein noodles and toss to coat. Drop by spoonfuls onto waxed paper or parchment. Chill in refrigerator. Story in airtight container.

Black Walnut Cream Cheese Fudge

1 six-ounce package semi-sweet chocolate chips

6 ounces original cream cheese (not low-fat) at room temperature

2 tablespoons milk or cream

4 cups sifted powdered sugar

1 teaspoon vanilla extract or 1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract and 1/2 teaspoon black walnut extract

1/4 teaspoon salt

1 cup coarsely chopped black walnuts (can substitute walnuts or pecans)

Butter a 9 x 9 x 2-inch baking pan well; set aside. Melt chocolate chips in double boiler over hot, not boiling, water. Cream the cream cheese and milk together. Gradually add powdered sugar. Blend in melted chocolate chips, vanilla, and salt. Stir in black walnuts. Press mixture into pan. Cover with plastic wrap, and chill overnight or until firm. Cut into squares.

Dale's Date Delight

1 cup chopped pecans

2 cups sugar

2 cup dates, snipped

3/4 cup graham cracker crumbs

2 teaspoons baking powder

6 eggs, separated

Pre-heat oven to 350 degrees. Beat egg yolks until light and lemon colored. Slowly beat sugar into the yolks. In medium bowl, mix other dry ingredients (pecans, dates, and graham cracker crumbs). Stir dry ingredients slowly into egg yolk mixture. Beat egg whites until stiff peaks form. Add baking powder to the beaten whites. Fold gently into yolk mixture. Pour into an ungreased baking dish. Bake 30--45 minutes, depending on the size of the baking dish. Serve with whipped cream or hard sauce.

Special Note: Dale's Date Delight rises quite a bit, so use a baking dish or casserole that allows head room.

Hard sauce: In a medium-size bowl, using mixer set at medium high speed, beat one stick of unsalted butter (softened), with 1 cup confectioners' sugar until light and fluffy. Add 3 tablespoons dark rum. Serve on Dale's Date Delight or your favorite bread pudding recipe.

Bleu Cheese Ball
(What? You say a cheese ball isn't "candy"? It may depend on how one defines "candy."  :-)   )

1 eight-ounce pkg. regular cream cheese (not low fat)

1 eight-ounce pkg. "1/3 less fat" cream cheese

1 four-ounce pkg. bleu cheese, crumbled

1/2 cup finely chopped nuts (pecans or walnuts)

Bring cheeses to room temperature. Cream together in a medium mixing bowl. Form into a ball. Refrigerate until firm. Roll in nuts until well-covered. Gently press nuts into cheese ball. Cover with plastic wrap and refrigerate until ready to serve with assorted crackers. I prefer plain ol' whole-grain saltines, myself.

Christmas Reflections: The Dark Streets Shineth

The Dark Streets Shineth
When I was a child, the streets of New Castle, Indiana--my home town--became magic at Christmas time. "Hark the Herald Angels Sing" and "I'm Dreaming of a White Christmas" blared from bell-shaped speakers mounted atop some of the buildings. Shop windows sparkled with colored lights and tempting displays. Wide-eyed children pressed their noses against the window glass to get a closer view of the Terri Lee dolls, Lionel train sets, and mechanized elves. Other tots stood with their parents in the long queue to get inside the cramped little Santa Claus house on the courthouse lawn.

The stores extended their hours from Thanksgiving to Christmas, so the town streets bustled with shoppers in the evening, laughing and greeting friends. Uniformed Salvation Army workers, backs turned to the wind and collars flipped up, rang their silver bells at every intersection.

Since we lived in the Jennings Building, up over McShurley's Shoe Store and The Coffee Shop, I spent a lot of time wandering the stores and the downtown streets, drinking in the sights and sounds of the season like a mug of hot cocoa. Sometimes Mama would give me a quarter and a nickel so I could visit the candy counter at Murphy's dimestore. I would get a quarter's worth of French creme candy, available only at Christmas time, and five-cents' worth of warm Spanish peanuts, my favorite. With those two bags in my hand, I felt like a big spender.

I loved it. The busyness. The music, tinny though it was. The laughter. The candy. The lights. They all contributed to the magic.

But snow lent the real magic. As the air began to fill with large, cold, wet feathery flakes, I would turn down a side street, walk a block or so, and stand under one of the antiquated street lamps. Looking up into its aura, I watched the snow dance in the light. Softly, so that none could hear me save the lamp and the descending snow, I sang along with music from the speakers: "O, little town of Bethlehem, how still we see thee lie. Above thy deep and dreamless sleep the silent stars go by. Yet in thy dark streets shineth the Everlasting Light. The hopes and fears of all the years are met in thee tonight." Amen.

Dear reader, would you be so kind as to leave one of your own Christmas reflections as a comment? I'd love to hear it.

One More Time

As Christmas draws near, I will reprise some posts from last year--some memories of Christmases past. I invite you to stop by, read mine, and share some of your own or link to your blog so we may read them there.

Write on!
Because of Christ

Writing Those Perplexing Proposals

If you're a serious writer, you've either written proposals or will have to do so eventually. Though I'm gaining experience in that area, I'm certainly no expert, so I look to those who are.

Rachel Kent is an agent with Books & Such Literary, specializing in books for teens, twenty-somethings, and thirty-somethings. On the agency blog, she provides four lessons in proposal writing. I snagged them and put them in a Word file so I can access the info quickly. Here's the link:  Books & Such Literary.

What are some of your favorite sites for writerly how-tos and information? Leave a comment, please and thank you.