An In-between: Christmas Past Around the World.

I happened to find a website about Christmas around the world. Each blurb appears to be written by a native author. It's very interesting, so I thought I'd share some of the neat, different things that we here in America don't really think about.

For instance, in Australia, (written by a very tongue-in-cheek author) there is no such thing as a 'white' Christmas. For them, Christmas is more like our Fourth of July. Not because it's an Independence Day, but rather it's the biggest summer holiday. And who ever in America would have ice-cream and seafood! Santa Claus is just as big Down Under as it is Up Over Here, but 'Swag Man' is almost as big. The Aussies felt they had to come up with something other than Santa, because they're afraid of Santa 'suffering from heat stroke.' Swag Man does not ride in a sleigh. Instead, he drives a very large four-wheel drive. Christmas is made up of picnics, midnight mass, food, 'mateys', and swimming.

Likewise, in Brazil, Santa Claus is really "Father Noel." Father Noel lives in Greenland, and wears silk when he's visiting Brazil; because of the heat. Instead of Dickens's classic Christmas Carol, a folk play called The Shepherds is featured in which all the shepherds are female and the baby Jesus is kidnapped by a gypsy. The traditional Christmas tree has no greenery, but is rather made of electric lights. Other decorations are usually fresh flowers.

In Czechoslovakia, home of the 'Good King Wenceslas,' Christmas is celebrated by putting a cherry tree in water indoors. The hope is that it will bloom on Christmas thus giving 'good luck' and the 'hope of a short winter.' St. Nicolas lives in Heaven and climbs down on a golden rope with his companions; an angel and a whip-carrying devil. (For the good and bad little boys and girls of course)

In France, Christmas trees are rarely in evidence, and the same goes for a real Yule Log. Instead, a Yule log cake is made. The biggest thing is a nativity scene found in nearly every home. Along with the traditional nativity scene pieces, figures of local dignitaries are made, (called little santons, or saints.) These are also a part of the nativity scene. As in Brazil, it is Father Noel who distributes gifts. Except, he's accompanied only by the 'stern disciplinarian' Pre Fouetarrd, who reminds the forgetful Noel who was good and who was not. Gifts among adults are exchanged on New Years' Day.

I considered making a German joke in favor or France, but, well, perhaps I'd better not, especially since their traditions happen to be rather more 'Christian' than any other country so far. The Germans were those who began the tradition of the Christmas tree. It is especially exciting to the children since they are not allowed to see it until Christmas Eve. Christmas Carols are usually sung, the Christmas Story is read, and sometimes sparklers are lit. Only then are the presents opened. St. Nicholas visits with his little 'book of sins.' if the child has been good, delicious things are placed in the shoe or boot near the fire. If not, the shoe is filled with twigs.

In Japan, Christmas is very American, having been introduced by missionaries. It is the only time that the children ever see a cradle, (in the Nativity scene) since Japanese babies are not put in a cradle. Hoteiosho, a priest or 'god' is the 'all-seeing' Santa Claus.

Christmas in Russia, was once a largely-celebrated holiday. During the Communist regime however, many traditions were crushed. St. Nicholas for instance, became 'godfather frost.' St. Nicholas in former times was not the gift bringer, but rather the miracle worker. Baboushka was the gift bringer, and was also crushed during the Cold War. Baboushka has returned however and the tradition has nearly grown to it's former size. Christmas Trees were banned, but Russians continue to decorate their 'New Year's Tree.'

In Iraq, 'Christians' light a bonfire of thorns on Christmas Eve. When the fire dies, each person jumps over it and makes a wish. Another bonfire is lit in the public square on Christmas. The bishop carries a figurine of the baby Jesus, and touches the person next to him. The touch is passed among all the people until all have received the 'touch of peace.'

In Sweden, a fourth century Sicilian saint, Lucia, is revered. During early Christian persecution, she allegedly brought food to hiding Christians. She has become known as the 'queen of light.' On Christmas, the eldest girl in the household wears a white dress and a wreath on her head with seven lighted candles. She brings coffee and buns to each member of the household in symbolism of Lucia's visit. The Tomte is the gift-bringer.

In Bethlehem, the city is ablaze every year with flags and other decorations. The annual Christmas Eve parade is made up of horsemen and mounted police on Arabian horses, followed by a solitary horseman on a black horse carrying a cross. Other officials and churchmen follow until the procession passes through the doors of the Church of the Nativity. Dark winding stairs lead to a grotto. In the grotto, a silver star marks the place where Jesus was born. Another star is located in the center of town. Christians celebrate by decorating their doors with a cross and each home houses a home-made manger scene.

Merry Christmas!

(This has been: An In-between. Look in next time to read: Snippets of:__)

A Day in the Life of: Sgt. R__

One of my favorite people that I actually know is an elderly gentleman in my church. He's like another grandpa. Besides being kindly and intelligent, he's also an excellent story teller. And the great thing is that his stories are true. I considered recording his stories and perhaps I still might sometime. Unfortunately, I couldn't find a tape-recorder. So, while I can't tell his stories with quite the impact that he tells them, I'll do my best, because they're worth telling. His are the stories which can inspire and amuse generations to come, but only if they're written down.

If you knew Mr. R__ today, you would never believe that he could ever have been anything other than a wonderful, gentle and meek man. He was however, when a younger man, a very colorful character with a colorful life that comes with all non-Christian Army drill instructors, Army Sergeants, and Police chiefs.

Sgt. R__ tells this story of his time as an Army Sgt. during WWII. He was a squadron leader of tanks, and they were practicing with the 10th group of something or other. The 10th group of something or other used jeeps with rocket launchers. Sgt. R__ and the tanks under him would practice fighting the 10th group rocket launchers. They used duds for practice, not live rockets.

Each time, after the practice was over, the two groups would leave the field. Usually, the tanks went first. 10th group had a 'twisted' sense of humor. As the Sgt. R__'s tanks would leave the field, the 10th group would launch blank rockets at the tanks. Even a blank rocket is nothing to laugh at. They made huge noises, and packed an even larger wallop.

After a time of enduring this harassment, Sgt. R__ had a fantastic idea. All soldiers were issued cans of pork and beans for their meals. With his fellow soldiers, Sgt. R__ opened these cans and poured them out into a couple of empty shells. Then, they put masking tape over the top of the shells to hold the pork and beans in until it was time.

Then, after practice, they started off the field. As usual, the soldiers in the jeeps launched their duds and then raced off ahead of the tanks laughing. The men in the tanks ducked, the duds hit, the men in the tanks got up, and Sgt. R__ loaded the 'live' cartridges. He cranked the gun on his tank down, waited until the jeeps were in his sights and then...BAM! out of the barrel flew a couple of cans worth of pork and beans! DEAD ON!!! The joke was on the other guys.

The way Mr. R__ tells it, it was worth a million bucks to see the looks on their faces.

"Whoso diggeth a pit shall fall therein; And he that rolleth a stone, it shall return upon him." Proverbs 26:27

(This has been: A Day in the Life of: Sgt. R__. Look in next time to read: Snippets of__)

Fountain of Thoughts: Context, Context, Context

I recently posted a list of my goals for the year. Regrettably, I have only completed one of them to date. However, the result of that goal, that is, to read the Bible in three months, was, in my opinion, rather interesting. My main reason for conducting the experiment was because I had heard quite a bit about its benefits. I had heard, specifically, that 'it put the Bible in a whole new perspective.' After having completed the experiment for myself, I must beg to disagree in part with the review. I found, that instead of giving the 'Bible a whole new perspective' it rather put the Bible into perspective.

'Context, context, context' is an oft repeated refrain in my church and house, so, I've always known that the Bible was in context. Nevertheless, I don't believe I have ever seen it for myself so clearly. It is easy in most cases to see the context between individual verses. It is even sometimes easy to see the context between chapters. I have very rarely however been able to see the incredible context between whole books.

While my Bible is not in chronological order according to events per se, reading it in three months pictured the order of events almost as if I was seeing them happen. It was frankly quite fascinating. I was able to 'see' Isaiah prophesying at the same time as King Hezekiah was dealing with the multiple Assyrian invasions. Another thing I noticed was that the Books of Kings, dealt with both the rule of Israel, and the rule of Judah, while Chronicles dealt only with Judah. By reading the four books in a short period of time, I was able to see the correlations between them in context.

Another perhaps benefit I observed was the diminishing of the tediousness of certain sections. I.E., the genealogies and the temple measurements. While I probably like these sections more than the average reader, I still find them, like most people, to be tedious. I found this tediousness nearly if not completely eliminated by reading them in two, or at the most three days. I'm still not sure though, if this is a benefit, or just a general gratefulness for getting to read something else sooner.

I've always had a little bit of a difficult time understanding Paul's longer epistles. I now know why. Each of his chapter's builds upon the other so that it is nearly impossible to read one and understand it without reading the preceding chapters. This time around, I think I have finally discovered why most people love Paul's writings. He is very logical. I must confess however that while I really enjoyed Paul's letters, I still like the writings of John better, even though I found them particularly convicting this time.

When I finished my little experiment, I came to the conclusion that I should highly recommend it to others. It only takes fourteen chapters per day. I was able to do this from between thirty minutes and an hour. And this was yet another benefit: the spending of more time in the Word was really good for me. After you all try it, maybe we can get together and do the other experiment: having a read-aloud Bible marathon!

(This has been: Fountain of Thoughts. Look in next time to read: A Day in the Life of:__)

Stories of My Life: Pride Goes Before a Fall

I, like others in my family, enjoy joking about all the ridiculous superstitions that people have. Once, while walking down a sidewalk we came across a ladder propped against a building. We proceeded to joke and made a great show of not walking under the ladder because that would be a horrible thing and would mean bad luck. Of course, we dripped sarcasm. However it was rather funny because a group of people walking behind us, overheard our conversation and started talking about it too.

And thus, when I talk about a certain event of my life, I usually poke a little fun at superstition too, because after all, it did happen on my 13th half-birthday, and 13, as we all know, is a very unlucky number. (Not!)

That day, we were invited to go roller skating with another family we knew and their other friends. Neither myself or my brothers had ever roller skated to speak of. That is, we'd done it for a few minutes on carpet before. This however, was an actual skating rink; nothing close to carpet, and, in my opinion, not nearly as safe.

However, when we got their, my brothers and I came to the mutual agreement that, since we were there to roller skate, we might as well roller skate. The rink was oval. On three quarters of the oval were walls which blocked access onto the rink. On the last part of the oval was a large open space where there were no walls, or rails, or anything to hold on to. And this, naturally was the only way to get onto the rink. It was truly stepping, or rolling, out in faith.

We all half slipped, half rolled our way to the safety of the wall, and using it to hold us up, we began to actually work on learning how to keep our balance. Our friends meanwhile, were going circles around us, figuratively speaking. And then, alas, the wall ended. We were forced to cross that huge open stretch with no help from anything. Needless to say, our first couple of dozen circuits around the rink were not something I would want anyone to see. After that however, we all started gaining confidence.

By now, nearly two hours had past and our parents had just told us to do one more loop and then we were to leave. I was just at the beginning of the wall, which I still used a little, but not much. I have to say, though I don't like to, that just moments before, I had been teasing my brothers about how much better I was doing than they were. I guess that should have warned me.

When I reached the end of the wall on my last loop, I told myself that when I did the open stretch, I would really do it. You know, no sitting down, no slipping, lots of confidence. "I can do this" I remember thinking.

I thought it again when I was three quarters of the way across the open stretch. The end was in sight. Unfortunately, I rejoiced to soon. I forgot the rule about bending my knees and leaning forward at the same time. I leaned back just a very little. I didn't really even realize at first that I was on the ground. The action of falling didn't seem to have occurred. Nonetheless, there I was, on the ground, with my legs twisted up.

Here, I must insert a few things. First, I was not using roller blades, but roller skates. Roller blades are supposed to be safer, (although, I can't see how since they have a far narrower base). Roller skates are more like boots, and they lace up too. That, I was told, is not as safe. Second, I really didn't feel any pain whatsoever. I didn't really try to get up. In spite of feeling no pain, I knew somehow, that I wouldn't be able to get up. I think, however, that I did untwist myself. The next thing I heard was two other kids telling the guy-in-charge/coach-dude-or-something sitting nearby that 'it looked like something was wrong over there.

Mom was alerted, and I was carried off the rink. I still really didn't feel pain, but it must have been painful subconsciously because I cried. Our friend's friend's Mom turned out to be a nurse. She wanted to see my ankle, but I'm afraid that I was a little suspicious, not knowing her to be a nurse. I didn't want anybody to touch my ankle. I guess it really hurt. I imagine that it was so painful that it didn't register as being painful. It was an odd sensation.

The friend's friend's mom said I should be taken to the hospital. I was a little upset however, that mom took us home first, so she could call Dad and have Dad take me. At that point, I just wanted somebody to fix me; now.

When I finally got taken to the hospital, I discovered what everybody but me probably already knew. The 'emergency room' is not treated as an emergency but rather as a 'waiting room.' I waited for over an hour before someone came, and even after that, it was still another twenty minutes before the doctor came. (I meanwhile complained greatly about the subconscious pain and listened to the lady in the next partition telling her doctor about how she cut her finger.)

When the doctor came, he said something or other, looked at the x-rays, and then disappeared for another 20 minutes. When he came back, he was really puzzled. He came shaking his head. It turned out, that the break I had, was so rare, that he'd never heard of it; he was an under-doctor or something.

I had a CAT scan, and the upshot of it all was, that I had to have surgery. I know have a screw in my ankle. When I'm being silly, Dad jokes about having a 'screw loose.' The anesthesia was smelled like coconut. I was out like a light, but the sensation was more like drifting.

When I was in the recovery room, I came awake in a kind of dead way. I could hear everything, but my vision was a little blurry and my mind felt completely asleep. Everything except my hearing seemed to be out of focus and way in the distance. Even the things I heard, while I heard them clearly, seemed to be coming from far away.

Hospital people want recovering patients to eat and drink something before they are released. I however, was not hungry. The nurse, at her wits end, offered me unusual hospital food such as ice cream. I eventually was persuaded to try a tuna salad and lemon-lime sprite. It was actually pretty good.

They had given me so much pain killer that the day after surgery, I felt awesome, in spite of the inconvenient full-length splint, (later replaced with a full-length cast). That first day, I did school. The next day however, was a killer. I have a very high pain tolerance threshold, so when I say something, on a scale of 1-10, is 8, it usually means it's pretty painful.

I was on crutches with a full-length cast for 6 weeks, and a half-cast for another six weeks. I don't think it's necessary to say that Proverbs 16:18 really came home to me. "Pride goes before destruction, and an haughty spirit before a fall."

Snippets of: Seattle, Part 2

The fire of 1889, recorded in Part 1 destroyed almost the entire city of Seattle. Thirty blocks were utterly demolished.Afterwards, wooden buildings were banned in favor of brick, stone, and iron. One would expect everyone to be unhappy about this devastation, and I am sure they were to some extent. However, the authorities didn’t seem to mind too much.

Now that the city is burned, they said, let’s build it higher. It will solve the sewage problems, of which there are many, and the city will stop flooding every time the tide comes in.

The merchants however, had lost all of their things in the fire. We can’t wait to build the city up, they said, we need to build our buildings now so that we can have money.

Well, said those in charge of the city, we are going to raise the city fifteen feet whether you like it or not. We own the streets.

You may own the streets, said the merchants, but we own the sidewalks, so we are building now.

The result of this was that the city built the streets fifteen feet higher and the sidewalks stayed where they were, fifteen feet below. For the customers who wanted to get to the other side of the streets, ladders were built. No guard-rails were used on the roads, so coaches and people sometimes fell. Sometimes, people fell off the ladders too. These deaths, the court ruled as involuntary suicides.

When the city built the streets higher, they used more dirt than it took to build the Panama Canal. But they still didn’t have enough, so they used, as Northwestcharm.com tells us, “Rubbish from the fire, sawdust, soil, and even carcasses of dead horses.” (Goller) In doing this, they made an insecure foundation.

Just for a minute, let’s look at Seattle as we see it today. Today downtown Seattle’s foundation is still made of this rubbish from the 19th century. The sawdust and other materials that were used in the past cause many of the pothole problems in the streets of Seattle.

The sidewalks were also raised to street level, creating what is now known as Underground Seattle. A few years after the fire, this area, which had only recently been constructed, was condemned due to a bubonic plague which swept the city. This was due to the large amount of rats that lived underneath. A bounty of ten cents was put on the tail of the rat. This, alas, was another mistake.

Rats are hard to catch, especially in the dark. This bounty that was put on rat tails caused people to raise rats to make things easier. They could cut off their tails and still receive the bounty. The rat problem took a long time to get rid of.

And now, in order to round out this history of Seattle’s folly and the era surrounding the Great Fire, let me tell you about one of the first leaders of Seattle.

Seattle has had many corrupted leaders. Of these, many of the crimes committed by the early leaders are now outlawed. This particular leader however however, did not have these laws.

(I once thought that this fallen man was the first mayor of Seattle, Henry Atkins. When I actually went on the Seattle Underground Tour however, it turned out it was someone else. Unfortunately, I can not remember or discover the man's real name and position. It might have been the Seattle Treasurer). Anyway, this man made many errors and he was a man in the position to do the following: It so happened that being a major town leader, he was also a private citizen. In his role as private citizen he sued the city. That is, he sued the town leaders, a prominent one of which just happened to be himself. Then, the town leader, himself, gave the private citizen, also himself, a whole bunch of money straight from the city treasury. This of course, is very wrong to do and there are laws against it.

The city has made some pretty silly mistakes in my opinion. Jesus once told a parable about the spiritual life. He told of a man who built his house on the sand, sawdust in this case, whose house fell down. And then He told the flip side of the story by telling about another man who built his house on the rock, whose house was beaten against, but did not fall. (Matt. 24-27) The example of the town leader's corruptness is just one. The city has always been pretty corrupted. Skid Row for instance. So I guess that, for the most part, the lives of the citizens are made of the same stuff they build the town on. It’s really kinda funny how people build things to look like themselves, (just look at the King of Babylon, he built a statue of himself.) However, Seattle is doomed! Spiritually, it’s corrupt. Physically, its foundation is (very) unsound. And I think Seattle could cave in at any time.

(P.S. Subsequent recent events have taken place. The city of Seattle is about to build a tunnel underneath the city. I hate to think of what will happen when they try to build it in the midst of that weak foundation. Downtown Seattle really could collapse even without an earthquake!)

(This has been: Snippets of: Seattle, Part 2. Look in next time to read: Stories of My Life:__)

A Day in the Life of: "General" Harriet "Moses" Araminta Tubman (Davis)

One wouldn't have thought that an 11th child and slave named Araminta would have become so very famous; but, she did. Born Araminta Ross in Maryland, she took her mother's name, Harriet, sometime in her early adulthood. As a slave, her exact birth date is unknown, but is probably 1820 or 1821. Like most slaves, she was illiterate and remained so for her entire life.

At age five, she was loaned out to a neighboring plantation. There, she became so ill that she was returned to her home. This did not stop her owner, Edward Brodas. When she recovered from her illness she was again loaned out. By age 12 she was working as a field hand. At age 13, already a fiery individual, she was brutally hurt in the head for defending a runaway slave. Her head wound resulted in lifelong narcoleptic seizures. (I had to look it up. A narcoleptic seizure is "a condition characterized by frequent, uncontrollable periods of deep sleep.")

Around the time she turned 25, Harriet gained permission from her owners to marry John Tubman. Tubman was an unworthy man. Although Harriet married Nelson Davis much later in life, Tubman is the name by which she is recognized.

Even in her early 20s, Harriet dreamed of freedom. When her master died in 1849, Harriet heard rumors that she and her brothers would be sold to a chain gang. With her brothers, Harriet began her journey North. Her brothers however, became frightened and returned to the plantation. Harriet continued alone. She traveled only at night and at last, she reached Pennsylvania. There, she found work cooking and cleaning. She used the money to finance rescue trips.

Before the Civil War, Harriet rescued helped to free over three hundred slaves, including her parents and four siblings. She became deeply involved in the Underground Railroad, was good friends with Thomas Garret and the dubious John Brown, and was nicknamed "Moses" for her strikingly similar task.

Harriet was a persuasive woman. Not one of those she escorted to freedom returned (like her brothers originally), not one was captured or lost. This of course, may have been partially because she threatened her escapees with death if they even thought about surrendering or returning. After she gain her freedom she accomplished over twenty hazardous missions in which she returned secretly to the South, contacted slaves, and escorted them sometimes as far North as Canada.

As her fame spread, slave owners offered a huge $40,000 reward for her capture. While she never got caught by anyone, her own illiteracy nearly gave the game away. Harriet fell asleep underneath her own wanted poster. By the beginning of the Civil War, Harriet was a dominant force in the abolitionist movement.

During the Civil War, in which she plotted with John Brown, Harriet worked as a nurse, cook, scout, and spy for the Federalists. For her bravery and courage before and during the war, John Brown nicknamed her "General" Tubman. She referred to John Brown late in life as one of her dearest friends.

After the war, Harriet transformed her home into a nursing home for local aged colored people.
As she grew older, Harriet made arrangement for the African Methodist Episcopal Zion Church to take over the management of the Home. She herself was admitted to the Home in 1911. She died as a 90-something-year-old in 1913.

Harriet was honored posthumously by Eleanor Roosevelt and the United States Postal Service.

Disclaimer: While Harriet Tubman was brave and heroic in her rescue and spy services, the author of this article does not necessarily condone John Brown. John Brown only appears in this post as a friend of Harriet.

(This has been A Day in the Life of: Harriet Tubman. Look in next time to read: Snippets of:__)

Fountain of Thoughts: Bread Making

Do you ever wonder why your spiritual life seems to be going absolutely no where? Why you don't feel like you are maturing spiritually? I'm sorry to say that this is the way I feel many times.

One of my favorite 'sermons' outside of church is actually a work of fiction. In play, Polly Milton in An Old-Fashioned Girl by Louisa May Alcott, gives a short sermon on plum cake.

"Life, my brethren, (she proclaims) is like plum cake. In some the plums are all on the top and we eat them gaily, till we suddenly find they are gone. In others, the plums sink to the bottom and we look for them in vain as we go on, and often come to them when it is too late to enjoy them. But in the well-made cake, the plums are wisely scattered all through, and every mouthful is a pleasure. We make our own cakes, in a great measure, therefore let us look to it, my brethren, that they are mixed according to the best recipe, baked in a well-regulated oven, and gratefully eaten with a temperate appetite."

As I was randomly thinking about random things the other night, I thought of these random verses in Jermiah 18. They're the famous ones about the potter and the clay. "The word which came to Jeremiah from the LORD, saying, Arise, and go down to the potter's house, and there I will cause thee to hear my words. Then I went down to the potter's house, and, behold, he wrought a work on the wheels. And the vessel that he made of clay was marred in the hand of the potter: so he made it again another vessel, as seemed good to the potter to make it. Then the word of the LORD came to me, saying, O house of Israel, cannot I do with you as this potter? saith the LORD. Behold, as the clay is in the potter's hand, so are ye in mine hand, O house of Israel.

Since I know very little about pottery and potters, I randomly decided to loosely translate the verses into something I did understand. I picked baking since I had made a loaf of bread earlier that day. It was a delicious cinnamon raisin bread, for those who are wondering.

Following the example of Polly Milton my thoughts ran thus: Life, (I thought) is like a loaf of bread. When we're feeling that life is ok and going pretty well but is maybe a little dull, that's when God is measuring the flour and baking powder and other little tasteless necessaries. He may also be measuring the vital, but small amount of yeast.

When life becomes tough and we feel like everyone is against us, it's probably because He's turned on the bread machine and we're being mixed and kneaded. And the process is still necessary. I read just minutes after this thought in Ecclesiastes 11. It says there that we are to make sure and "remember the days of darkness." They're good for us.

And now I come to thought which came to me first and was the central one in my mind.
When it feels like nothing is happening, like we're not maturing or growing, that is when the bread is rising. The process of rising a bread is so slow, and so subtle, that most of the time, we can't see it grow minute by minute. It seems as though nothing is happening, when in reality we are in the process of growing double and maybe triple our original size. Furthermore, rising bread requires warmth. It isn't usually incredibly hot, but it is pretty warm. Often, when I feel like I'm not growing, I also feel stress and pressure to be growing. I become frustrated. But, maybe that too is a part of the process. Maybe that pressure and frustration is the required heat.

I love the verses all over in the Bible, but particularly in Ephesians where it speaks about the church being fitly framed and joined together with precious stones, (Jesus being the corner stone) and it grows into a holy temple and habitation of God. God doesn't do things all at once most of the time. He starts with a foundation and slowly builds onto it. And by the way, He always starts at the beginning, not in the middle.

Without the boring ingredients such as flour, salt, and yeast, a delicious loaf of bread would not be possible. Without the kneading and mixing, the loaf would be tasteless and crumbly. Without the rising, the bread would be flat, and heavy. But you can't rise the bread before you mix it, and you can't mix it without putting the ingredients in first. Each step has to come in order.

Isn't God good. He knows that after long periods of rising we can get pretty frustrated. Trials seem to come all at once, but they rarely last forever and ever. He intersperses His blessing with His tests. When we're feeling particularly blessed and excited about His Word etc. He's adding the cinnamon and raisins at the beeps. (I don't know if all bread machines beep in the middle so you can add those ingredients, but ours does, so the analogy holds.)

And then of course, we coming to the baking. That's often really tough. But it's the time when our faith becomes stronger. We're no longer moldable dough that can be turned and twisted any direction. The fiber in the dough is brought out and strenghthened as it cooks to become crusty and strong on the outside and soft and moist on the inside. When we're being baked, we often only look at the intense heat we're being subjected to. But in reality, we're learning to 'stand firm.'

After all that heat, we may be so hot that people won't come near us. God uses the time of cooling to temper our faith and maybe chip off some rough edges. And finally, we get the reward. The baker gets to eat his/her bread. Isn't that rewarding! (And man does it taste good!)Hopefully, we won't truly get eaten. But we will get our reward in heaven. I look forward to the day when He will say, "well done, thou good and faithful servant."

(This has been: Fountain of Thoughts. Look in next time to read: A Day in the Life of:__)