My Christmas Testimony

December 28, 2019 / walkingthisjourneysite / Leave a comment

One of the elements that had long been missing from my Christmas decor was a Nativity scene … a physical representation of the birth of Christ.

It was never from a lack of effort or desire, but rather, it was mostly due to autism.

Let’s just say, I have a number of broken nativities tucked away in my attic.

But finally, the year came that I felt that a nativity set would be safe from the hands of my son and with a little income at my disposable, I decided it was time to get the nativity I had wanted for so, so long … a Willow Tree Nativity.

The aesthetic appearance of Willow Tree figures has appealed to me from the very first time I saw them. They are simple in form, yet so peaceful and serene.

I deposited the money I had earned from a house-cleaning job and then I ordered the basic Nativity set … Joseph, a young shepherd, a couple of animals … and a kneeling Mary, holding the baby Jesus. I was so excited as it seemed I was in a new season of life and being able to purchase this set was a representation of that.

I remember when the package was delivered and I gingerly unwrapped each figure. I couldn’t wait to set it up so I quickly cleared off the stone mantel above the fireplace and carefully placed each piece. It was simple, it was restful, it was peaceful … it was everything I longed for, in a nativity set, in Christmas — and in life.

True to the nature of life, that sense of serenity didn’t last very long. During one night, a kitten I had rescued walked across the mantel and sent my Mary crashing to the stone slab below … shattering her to pieces.

I was heartbroken.

The following Christmas, I unpacked the Nativity scene once again and looked over the broken pieces of Mary. It seemed an impossible task but eventually we glued her somewhat haphazardly back together and placed her carefully on a shelf inside a closed cabinet.

Fragile with missing pieces … forever broken.

A couple of days before Christmas this year, I woke early to wrap my children’s Christmas presents so I could get them hidden away again before my son with autism woke. I sipped my coffee and settled into the rhythm of methodical wrapping while my children slept and my thoughts wandered.

It didn’t take very long until memories began to stir in the midst of the rustling paper and whispering scissors. Memories of long ago that seem to rise to the surface whenever I am wrapping Christmas presents.

I remember the Christmas when I had just the two boys, before my daughter was born.
I don’t remember much from that time but I know I didn’t wrap any presents that year.
I couldn’t. I just couldn’t do it.
I’m pretty sure I bought gifts for my boys and I may have bought wrapping paper —
but somehow, wrapping those presents seemed far too monumental a task.
Autism, intense sleep deprivation, behaviors, a fussy baby, and difficult family dynamics.
It was a hard season.
While there are many gaps in my memory, I’ve never forgotten those unwrapped presents nor the lingering guilt.

Those memories wandered through me once more and, same as years past, I thanked the Lord for the beauty of being able to wrap Christmas presents for my children now. This was going to be a good Christmas … I was going to make sure of that.

*
*

Before I finished wrapping the presents however, my oldest son came down the stairs and before long was in the midst of a seemingly random meltdown. By the time I had worked through that relatively mild crisis with him, the restful joy I had been feeling as I wrapped presents was slowly vanishing like the morning mist.

Then I saw pictures on social media that sent the last of it flying away. There is such an overwhelming sense of sadness that hits when one of your children is left out of a circle of friends. This time, it triggered something deep inside.

I found myself in a war between deep sadness, old anger, and a desire for righteousness.

I prayed. Oh, how I prayed.

I didn’t understand the depth that was stirred in me nor where it had come from.

Suddenly, this Christmas, like so many before, had become overwhelming.

*
*

Then a different Christmas memory began to stir. A memory I have always wished I could erase from my mind completely. I was nine or ten years old when an adored family member chose to go a different way in life. There were a series of decisions and selfish behaviors that sparked significant grief in my family and inspired a rather traumatic scene that Christmas. As those memories replayed through my thoughts, I realized just how deeply that time period had affected my life … and how I viewed Christmas.

My family’s entire reality changed that year. The childhood I knew was gone. And Christmas, that year and every year thereafter, was forever altered.

As I pondered these memories, the word, ‘expectations’ to mind and I began to understand that, because of the gaping hole left behind from that crushing Christmas, I have walked through life looking for something, anything to fill the empty spaces that were left behind. I began to understand that my identity had been intrinsically tied to memories of that Christmas and that overall traumatic time in my family’s story.

However, because of the work Christ has done in my life in recent years, I could also see the emptiness of my own efforts trying to glue the pieces back together … the futility of my own works.

I looked at my broken Mary on the shelf and realized she was me. Broken, with pieces missing, held perilously together by glue, ready to fall apart with the slightest touch.

But I also knew this was not who God created me to be. God’s plan for me does not include walking through life with holes and broken pieces from the decisions and actions of others … or my own, for that matter. God’s plan for me does not include using a glue gun to gingerly hold pieces together so I can at least look like I have it together. The brokenness of the past no longer defined me.

On Christmas Eve, I confessed my sin to God and handed Him my broken memories and missing pieces. Then, as I looked at my broken Mary in the cabinet, I asked God for more. More of Him. More wholeness. More of His transforming work in my life and the lives of my children. My only expectation would be Him.

Come, Thou long expected Jesus
Born to set Thy people free;
From our fears and sins release us,
Let us find our rest in Thee.
Israel’s strength and consolation,
Hope of all the earth Thou art;
Dear desire of every nation,
Joy of every longing heart.

*
*

Christmas morning, after my children opened all their presents, my daughter brought her gift to me and knelt before me in anticipation, her eyes shining like stars in the night sky. After opening the box, I pulled out something wrapped in layer upon layer of bubble wrap and by the time I got to the last layer, I could see what lay inside …

A new Mary.

Unbroken. Whole. Complete.

My precious girl understood that the broken Mary was a source of sadness to me and apparently had been wanting to replace her for some time. When she earned some baby-sitting money, she reached out to her Grandmother and older cousin for help and between all their efforts, a new Mary was purchased.

After some tears and sweet hugs, I immediately went to the cabinet and carefully removed the broken Mary, who came out in pieces. As I did so, I noticed something I had not seen before. Mary was shattered into pieces, but the baby Jesus she was holding was not.

Mary was broken, but Jesus never was.

In my hands I held the truth that so long had evaded me. Life had caused sorrow and ripped holes inside of me. I had patched them together as well as I could but my efforts could not bring wholeness. Yet, Jesus has remained unbroken, solid, and completely true through all of the years. He was the center of what held the remainder of the broken Mary together.

I tenderly placed my broken Mary on the table and then picked up my new Mary, also holding sweet baby Jesus in her arms. As I placed her in the cabinet, a passage from Zechariah 3 came to mind … in these verses, the high priest Joshua was being accused by Satan as he stood in his own filthy clothes before an angel of the Lord. This is a picture of us in the filthy rags of our own righteousness standing before the Lord as we are also being accused by Satan. But, for Joshua the high priest, as well as, for the believer today, this is not the end of the story.

Now Joshua was clothed with filthy garments and standing before the angel. He spoke and said to those who were standing before him, saying, “Remove the filthy garments from him.” Again he said to him, “See, I have taken your iniquity away from you and will clothe you with festal robes.”
(Zechariah 3:3,4)

Christ has removed our iniquity as well by the sacrifice of the cross. When we accept His gift of salvation, our filthy garments are replaced with beautiful robes of His righteousness. No longer can Satan accuse us.

Christ’s gift, His sacrifice, makes us whole.

*
*

On Christmas day, I stood between my two Marys … one broken and one whole.

One purchased by her own works with broken pieces held together by worthless glue and the other, whole and complete … a gift.

One Mary representing who I was and the other … who I am now and will be in Christ.

A promise, if you will.

I will rejoice greatly in the Lord,
My soul will exult in my God;
For He has clothed me with garments of salvation,
He has wrapped me with a robe of righteousness,
As a bridegroom decks himself with a garland,
And as a bride adorns herself with her jewels.
Isaiah 61:10

You know, it was not in my power to make Christmas ‘good’ this year
— but Jesus made it beautiful.

**Come, Thou long expected Jesus written by Charles Wesley**

My Favorite Christmas

December 14, 2019December 14, 2019 / walkingthisjourneysite / 2 Comments

My favorite Christmas is the Christmas I am living now.
My favorite memories are the memories I am making now.

The yester-years have passed, like feathers in the wind.
Taking with them many loved ones, I’ll not see again.

What the future holds, is not known to me.
Those in my life today, may not always be.

So, I will live in this very moment, in all of my todays.
I will love and enjoy the time I have with everyone of you.

Time is much too fleeting for worries and fear to grow.
So only in this moment will I live, spreading my Savior’s love,

My favorite Christmas is the Christmas I am living now.
My favorite memories are the memories I am making now.

Jesus is Still in the Boat

December 9, 2019 / walkingthisjourneysite / Leave a comment

I took my son to the doctor for a physical this past week. I know, I know … probably not a news-worthy story to most people. I understand. But in my world, this was a matter of significance and great importance. My son is 18 years old now, of considerable size, has autism … and anything medical related is scary, But, due to a different need, this physical was required. You see, my son also has a life-long, intense anxiety regarding dentists, which inhibits even the most basic of exams. A couple of months ago, I finally learned of and reached out to a new dentist who offers sedation dentistry at a surgical center near their office, well over an hour away from our home. This dentist specializes in children, but also works with special needs adults … many of whom share my son’s fears. With the support of his teacher, we attempted a consultation visit with the dentist, which by the standards of most was not successful, but allowed him to be scheduled for sedation. The dentist assured me that they would take him on as a patient and, with those words, a significant burden began to lift from my shoulders.

The process to be seen for sedation is quite involved, both from the surgery center’s viewpoint as well as, from the needs of my son, so I have been working towards this appointment for the last couple of months. It has been a stressful but I was so thankful. For the first time ever, I didn’t feel as alone in this particular battle. I paid the upfront expenses and scheduled the sedation appointment. All the pieces were coming together fairly well so that the only major task left was the physical, which was required by the surgery center to clear him for sedation.

Now, my son is only slightly less fearful of doctors than he is of dentists so I was concerned about the success of this appointment; However, medical desensitization is a goal written into his IEP at his specialized autism school. Staff have been working with him, as I have been, for a number of years and he has made progress. I was nervous but hopeful the appointment would go well enough that the doctor would be able to supply the information the surgery center needed.

In a situation such as this, all I can do is prepare my son as much as possible, support him every step of the way, pray (pretty much without ceasing), and trust the Lord for the outcome.

My son was successful with this physical in the eyes of the Doctor, his teacher who was there to support him, and especially me. Even though he refused to allow certain things, we were able to do more than ever before and the doctor cleared him for sedation. We were so proud of him!

I was incredibly thankful as it appeared all was well and going according to plan. We just had one more week until his sedation appointment and then the worry of his teeth and the weight of this appointment would be behind me … just in time to focus exclusively on the Christmas season.

*
*

I have been reading the book of Luke this advent season, trying to read a chapter a day so that I can finish the account on Christmas Eve. It is so easy to lose sight of why we observe this most treasured of holidays in the midst of all the bustle of festivities and concerns of this life, so I decided to focus my reading on the birth, ministry, death, and resurrection of Christ. I started out a day behind and, as a result, I ended up reading Luke 5 on December 6th, this past Friday. Now, I have read the story of Jesus telling Simon to take his boat out to the deep waters and cast his nets countless times before. It isn’t new to me. But on this particular morning, as I read Simon’s response, my breath caught and to my surprise, tears filled my eyes.

Now it happened that while the crowd was pressing around Him and listening to the word of God, He was standing by the lake of Gennesaret; and He saw two boats lying at the edge of the lake; but the fishermen had gotten out of them and were washing their nets. And He got into one of the boats, which was Simon’s, and asked him to put out a little way from the land. And He sat down and began teaching the people from the boat. When He had finished speaking, He said to Simon, “Put out into the deep water and let down your nets for a catch.”Simon answered and said, ‘Master, we worked hard all night and caught nothing, but I will do as you say and let down the nets.’ (verses 1-5)

Wow, Simon’s words reverberated through me with considerable force. I have worked for years trying to help my son. I would take him to the doctor by myself and those appointments were battles. Very real battles. I tried taking him to the dentist and those battles were even uglier. I would drive him once a week to a dentist office 45 minutes away just to work on desensitizing him by myself. My attempts to take him places backfired. Special diets were not helpful. Special therapies did little. I rarely, if ever, saw any fruit from the labor. I grew exhausted from the continual battles and lack of help. My nets were always empty.

This grew into a discouragement in its rawest form. Trying to help a child who is not typical in any way and who was unable to respond to my efforts. Carrying the weight of those nets myself without a single soul to help. Learning to hide those failures from others because I knew they simply couldn’t relate and often would condemn. Feeling guilty that my best efforts weren’t enough. Building walls to protect us both. Feeling frightened for the days ahead.

I know a thing or two about empty nets.

But let’s look at what happened when Simon obeyed the command of Jesus, even though his own experience and earthly knowledge must have counselled him otherwise?

“When they had done this, they enclosed a great quantity of fish, and their nets began to break; so they signaled to their partners in the other boat for them to come and help them. And they came and filled both of the boats, so that they began to sink.” (verses 6-7)

All night Simon and his companions had worked casting their nets into the waters, yet not catching a single fish. They must have been weary and discouraged with their circumstances and nothing to show for their labor. But once Jesus stepped into his boat and told him try again, their nets were soon filled to the point of breaking and sinking their boats because of all of the fish! What was the difference?

Jesus was in the boat.

*
*

A few years ago, I sat in my boat and looked at my empty nets. I was at my end and uncertain how I could possibly face another day. Then Jesus stepped into my boat and told me to go out into the deep waters once more and cast my nets. I was undeniably weary from my own efforts so with broken faith, I obeyed the voice of my Savior. I cast those nets in waters that I had fished countless times before but this time, something odd began to happen. Over time, doors began to open that had been previously closed. Support arose from places that had been hidden before. My son slowly began to mature and make the kind of progress I had given up on ever seeing. While the journey was (and continues to be) still hard, it was clear that Jesus was in the boat.

As I read the interaction between Jesus and Simon in Luke 5 this time, I became overwhelmed with thankfulness. My best efforts in the past produced empty nets because even though I prayed, I usually worked in my own sufficiency, while rooted in fear. But with Jesus in the boat, I have seen full nets on many occasions. So that morning, as I read Luke 5 and contemplated the upcoming sedation dentist appointment for my son, I hoped for and anticipated the same kind of results. I was anxious to see a net full of fish.

*
*

The surgery center called a few hours later. As soon as I heard the nurse’s voice, I sensed something was wrong. It took her a moment before she could say the words … the anesthesia team had reviewed all the information regarding my son and decided they could not accommodate him at their facility. So, after months of working towards this goal and just one week away from the appointment, they cancelled his sedation surgery.

Shock is really the only word I have for what I was feeling as I listened to the nurse and then the anesthesiologist who explained their reasoning. As their words echoed through my mind, I could only think of the amount of work, time, prayer, worry to the point of sickness, and lack of sleep that have occurred over these last two months as I have worked towards this long-awaited goal. I was stunned to have it so abruptly halted without any sense of resolution. The hope I had felt for the first time was ripped from my grasp.

Heartbroken silence surrounded me as I stood at the edge of my boat, staring blankly into the depths of the waters around me, with nothing but empty nets to show. I never felt more alone.

But …

Jesus was still in the boat.

*
*

It is advent season, a time to observe and ponder the earthly arrival, ministry, and sacrifice of Jesus, the Son of the Most High. As a Christian, this is a most precious and joyous time.

In the book of Mathew, the first chapter begins with the genealogy of Jesus and then gives the account of the angel talking to Joseph in a dream as he considered what to do with Mary, his espoused wife.

“Joseph son of David, do not be afraid to take Mary home as your wife, because what is conceived in her is from the Holy Spirit. She will give birth to a son, and you are to give him the name Jesus, because he will save his people from their sins.”

All this took place to fulfill what the Lord had said through the prophet: “The virgin will conceive and give birth to a son, and they will call him Emmanuel” (which means “God with us”). Mathew 1:20-23

Emmanuel … God with us.

We often enter this blessed season with great expectations of tidy, neat gifts under the tree, happy children, cooperative and loving families, Christmas plays and cantatas, good will and kindness, and well, perfection. But what do we do when we enter this season and our realities simply do not match those expectations? What do we do when we don’t get what we wish for … or even long for?

At this point, I am unsure what to do about meeting the dental needs of my son. I have learned that people around me simply do not grasp what this journey has been like, even those in my own household, so once more, it feels a lonely and heavy weight. I threw the nets where I believed the Lord was directing me and yet, here I sit with them empty once more. In the days since the phone call, I have been praying in the quiet, letting all of this sink in, and considering the next steps, as the name, Emmanuel has been echoing through the silence …

God with us.

Friends, this is our hope always but, most especially during a Christmas season when circumstances are difficult and we are unsure what to do next. We can remember the fact that Jesus, the very Son of God, humbled Himself and came to Earth in the form of a baby. We can ponder the works He did and the words He spoke as He walked this world. We can consider the depth of His sacrifice on the cross as He suffered and died on our behalf so that we could be free from sin and death. We can rest and rejoice in the fact that He rose from the dead and now sits at the right hand of God the Father, interceding on our behalf.

Because we believe this to be true, based on the Word of God, we are never alone, no matter the circumstances, challenges, or trials we face. He is our source of comfort and strength. He will fill our empty nets in His time and in His way.

Emmanuel … God with us.

Jesus is still in the boat.

A Lesson from the Christmas Garden

December 23, 2018December 23, 2018 / walkingthisjourneysite / 2 Comments

The last few months of my journey have been hard.

My son with autism entered one of his more difficult seasons and everything in life had simply become overwhelming.

The words from Philippians 4:13 that I have diligently been teaching my son were constantly on my lips as I walked through each day …

“I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.”

But as a deep anxiety riddled through me day and night and a depth of sadness and grief pervaded my being, I questioned whether I really could do all things … even with the Christ who offers strength in every moment.

Through it all, I have come to understand the depth of my Savior’s love as never before. He has faithfully walked with me on each step of this difficult journey — allowing patience to do its perfecting work (James 1:3,4) as He leads me into a new place of obedience and trust.

It is with all this in mind, that I share with you another lesson from the garden … (You may want to read these first -> Lessons in the Garden and More lessons from the Garden … ) This time it is A Lesson from the Christmas Garden.

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When I was a little girl, Christmas was a simple, yet magical and delightful time of year. We did not have Christmas parties, attend candlelight Christmas Eve services, or spend massive amounts of money, but we did have our family traditions. The Christmas season for us began the two weeks before Christmas, which is when we would make the yearly pilgrimage to the attic and bring down the boxes and boxes of decorations to adorn our home. It was a family ritual as we placed each item in its designated spot every year. There was such a sense of comfort and security in this tradition.

Then, the week before Christmas, we would head out to find our Christmas tree. I don’t remember if we had a traditional place to get our tree but we certainly had a traditional kind of tree we searched for … the fatter the tree, the better. Once we cut down and brought our tree home in the back of my Dad’s pick up truck, it had to stand in the garage for a day while Dad would perfect its appearance. More than once I remember him drilling holes into the trunk where there were bare spots so he could fill them in with branches he had cut from the bottom. When the tree was just right, he carried it in, set it in the same spot as the year before, methodically placed the lights around it, and then stepped back as the rest of us rushed in with our favorite ornaments. Our Christmas tree looked the same every year of my childhood and I loved it.

As a youngster, I think I loved Christmas Eve best of all. I would get in my pajamas (no special Christmas PJs needed), the tree would be glowing in the darkened house, Johnny Mathis, Jim Reeves, and Andy Williams crooned my favorite Christmas classics as the records would play on the old record player, and my Mom would set out all the delightful Christmas treats she had spent days preparing. My Dad would often make a fire in the fireplace and I would spend the evening going back and forth between the crackling fire in the front room and the Christmas tree in the living room, all the while anxiously anticipating the presents that I knew would be under the tree in the morning.

I never believed in Santa Claus, we certainly did not have Elf on the Shelf, I didn’t know you could make gingerbread houses, and ugly Christmas sweaters weren’t a thing.

My Dad would sometimes read to us the Christmas story from the Bible and then I would go to bed, almost bursting with excitement. It seemed I would never fall asleep, but soon enough, my sister would be shaking me awake saying, “Wake up, Tanya … it’s Christmas!” She and I would quietly sneak down the stairs where my eyes immediately went to the bulging Christmas stockings hanging at the fireplace. I knew they would be filled with all sorts of candy that we only saw this time of year but I never thought to dump it without permission from my parents. As I gazed at the stockings, my sister would turn on all the red and green lights around the house, bringing it to life with a festive glow. Then we would go into the living room and when she plugged in the tree lights, my eyes would widen in wonder as I looked at the presents neatly piled around the tree. My brother’s presents were usually on the left … my sister’s on the right … and mine were always directly in the center. My Mom always chose wrapping paper specific for each of us (mine often featured kittens) and my Dad used his technical skills to perfectly wrap each gift using a minimal amount of tape. I remember feeling so content as I sat on the couch in the darkness, watching the lovely lights on the tree flicker onto the wrapped presents below. As much as I wanted to open those gifts, I think I enjoyed this early morning time of anticipation most of all.

As a young child, Christmas was a time of tradition, family, and love … I was mostly oblivious to difficulty or grief and I am most grateful to have these memories.

But, while I was still quite young, my family experienced a Christmas that was completely different from all the ones I knew before. Heartache and trouble had hit our family in an unexpected way that year and everything in my world changed … even Christmas.

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In the 35-plus years since that last magical Christmas, I have been, rather unknowingly, in pursuit of finding my childhood Christmas again. The Christmas steeped in tradition, family, and my greatest wish of all … security, belonging, and love.

Sometimes we can long for something so deeply that it takes a preeminent position in our lives. Our thoughts, actions, and emotions are all geared towards pursuing this ‘holy grail’ before us, even as we live out the day to day of our lives. On the outside, our work appears noble and loving, but on the inside, there is a sense of desperation as we drive ourselves to distraction in our search.

Essentially, the very thing we long for, becomes an idol.

Something that takes the place of Christ in our hearts and lives.

For me … that has been the sense of security, belonging, and love like I used to know at Christmas.

Photo by freestocks.org on Pexels.com

The unexpected beauty of trial and difficulty is that the Lord can use them to refine us — to essentially strip away the very things that we may long for, but which serve as a distraction from living a life honoring to Him.

As long as we can ‘do’ something in our circumstances, we don’t need Him. If I can surround myself with activity, chase every tradition, and give gifts, I can generate and even create the sense of the belonging, security, and love that I crave.

On this most beloved of holidays, we, as Christians and followers of Christ, celebrate the birth of our Savior — Emmanuel, God with us. It is a season that has become steeped in tradition, family, activities, and gifts galore and, while I find all of this delightful, let us not forget this most important truth.

Christmas is when we remember the birth of a baby — the baby who is the Son of God and who came to this earth to redeem us from the wretchedness of our sin.

In Him we find forgiveness for our sin. In Him we find freedom from tradition and vain pursuits of our own righteousness. In Him is life more abundant.

I sat in the Garden of Gethsemane this week as I contemplated my pursuit of Christmas and all my vain striving to find my own sense of security and belonging, not just at Christmas, but in all of life. I thought on my Savior as He prayed in that garden in desperation before acquiescing to the will of the Father.

I knelt at the foot of the cross and considered His suffering as he battled the very darkness and evil that seeks to destroy us. Then I remembered His cry … “It is Finished!” as He completed the work God had given to Him to do forever defeating sin and its hold on us.

I stepped into the tomb that now stands empty and remembered that death could not hold Him and that this very baby that we observe in a manger during this season, now reigns in heaven and in my heart.

In His birth, we are offered hope.

In His death, we are offered freedom through His sacrifice.

In His resurrection and ascension to glory, we are offered comfort and help.

Jesus came to this earth because this was part of God’s redemptive plan for humanity. He is the Light in this sin-darkened world — a Light that will always shine brightly through every circumstance of life and throughout eternity.

This Christmas how can I do any less than to give Christ the preeminent place in my heart, my thoughts, and my life?

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Our Christmas tree died almost immediately after we set it up this year and even though it is still standing, I have not been able to enjoy the delicate beauty of its lights. Our church had its annual Christmas cantata but because my son was having an especially difficult day, I was unable to attend, as has been the case for many church services lately. Even the smallest of traditions have not been available to me this year and these last two seemed the final blow to my heart.

But then Jesus met me in the garden — the Christmas garden. He reminded me that in Him, I have been given the greatest gift of all … Himself and the unparalleled wonder and joy that entails for all eternity.

For the one who may also know a sense of sadness this Christmas season, this little piece of writing is my gift to you — the reminder of the greatest gift of all. Jesus.

Then Jesus again spoke to them, saying, “I am the Light of the world; he who follows Me will not walk in the darkness, but will have the Light of life.”
John 8:12

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‘Tis a Merry Christmas indeed.

The Brown Bird's Song

Abiding Acres Farm

Christmas

My Christmas Testimony

My Favorite Christmas

Jesus is Still in the Boat

A Lesson from the Christmas Garden