Author: delilalumbardy@gmail.com

Fear is one of the most powerful emotions and can often keep us from trying new things. I am going to relate a story that I believe a lot of women might relate to. Let’s make this fun and see what you would  have done if faced with the same choices I had this week.

Imagine that you just moved to a new town – you consider it too far to go back to your former hairdresser. You are on a quest to find a new one. You ask the neighborhood women ( of those whose hairstyles you like) where they go. You jot down some names and numbers. You take them home and start googling all the names on the piece of paper. The price for a haircut is anywhere from $10.00 – $12.00 more than you gave “back home” and you thought that was bad enough. You consider driving the two hours back home to your “old” hairdresser that does a good job and knows your hair.
On a whim, you decide to google “hairdressers in my area” and you find one that gives women’s haircuts for $12.50. This is $5.50 cents cheaper than even your former hairdresser charged, and half the price of any of the other shops around your current area. That almost seems too good to be true and even a little scary. Maybe a lot scary. But not scary enough you don’t call. A raspy polite voice answers. “Sure, we can get you in today.” Again – a little scary. You thought about driving by this shop, but it’s 10 miles up the road and you’ve got other engagements for the day. You run your hands through your shaggy do and sure wish you could get it cut. You make up some excuse so you can think about it for a few minutes.

Now, here’s the fun part. Choose from one of the three options and post your answer. Just say 1,2, or 3 if you like. And if you want you can guess what I chose. I will tell you next week. Here are your three choices:

1. Make an appointment with the neighbor’s recommended hairdresser and get in in two days for a $30.00 cut.
2. Call and make an appointment with your former hairdresser for four days out.
3. Call back the raspy voice and make an appointment to get in that afternoon for a $12.50 haircut.

Wishing you all a blessed week.

 

 

 

We have all heard the well known song, “Twelve Days of Christmas.” It’s been around since 1780 when it was first published in England.

The twelve days of Christmas have been celebrated in Europe since before the middle ages and each of the twelve days is a celebration honoring a saint. Day number 1 is Christmas Day and celebrates the birth of Jesus. The 12 days of Christmas concludes 12 days later on January 5th.

As tradition goes, on the 12th night, large parties were held throughout Europe. It was common practice that the roles of society were reversed on Twelfth Night, and the servants would be served by the rich folks. I know a little bit about how fun role reversal is as it reminds me of the time the doctors served us nurses a nice meal in celebration of Nurses Week. They not only served our meal, but they answered call lights so that every nurse could attend the meal. (I’m wondering if administration threatened them with their paychecks.)

Back in Europe, a twelfth night cake was baked and eaten at the start of the Twelfth Night. This cake was rich and made with eggs, butter, fruit, nuts, and spices. A dried pea or bean was cooked inside the cake and whoever found it was crowned the Lord (or Lady) for the night. This person would dress like a King or Queen and lead the celebrations. Bagpipes and other types of pipes provided music and games of various kinds were played. In many parts of the UK, people went wassailing on this night. Wassail was a drink made of mulled ale, curdled cream, roasted apples, eggs, cloves, ginger, nutmeg and sugar. It was served from huge bowls, sometimes holding up to 10 gallons of the drink. When toasted with this drink it signified a wish for a person’s well being or health. The custom of wassailing is seldom done today, but we still sing the song that starts out, “Here we come a-wassailing.” My preference would be, “Here we come an eggnogging.”

It has been a tradition in Europe to take the Christmas decorations down following Twelfth Night. I have European blood in my veins so think I will use that as an excuse to keep the tree up and the lights burning for a while longer.

Have you ever had the experience of not knowing anything about something, and then within a short period of time you are hearing about it everywhere? This happened to me this last week concerning the movie “A Charlie Brown Christmas.” Whenever this sort of thing happens to me, I figure I should take notice, because maybe it’s God trying to get something through my thick head. The first encounter I had was through a newsletter I received from the Christian health share program I’m a member with. The second encounter came through a short reading I read in the free devotional magazine I use. And the third encounter came over the radio as I listened to a pastor on my way to church this morning.

The reason I knew very little about “A Charlie Brown Christmas” before this is because I have never watched it. And now, that I know what I know, I can’t believe I haven’t. The first time it aired was on December 9, 1965. I would have been 11 years old and you would think I would have liked a little cartoon about Christmas. I probably would have, except that it aired on CBS and in the remote area of Nebraska where I grew up – we only got one channel and it was not CBS. I doubt that I would have watched it anyway, because it aired at the same time as Bonanza, which was a weekly tradition in our house. As it turns out, “A Charlie Brown Christmas” was the second most watched TV show that evening – second only to Bonanza. Forty five- forty nine percent of households (15 million homes) across the U.S. were tuned into CBS.

The making of the movie was done quickly after Coke-a-Cola called CBS and asked if they had a Christmas movie in the makings, because they wanted to sponsor it. CBS saw this as a good opportunity for them, and Coke-a-Cola was assured by CBS that there would be a Christmas movie for them to sponsor. Hurriedly, CBS contacted Charles Schulz and asked him to write a movie with his Peanut characters. By this time the Peanuts comic strip had become a world wide phenomenon.

CBS and Coke-a-Cola loved everything about the movie, except for when Linus reads the Christmas story from Luke  – and no less – out of the King James Version. They told Charles Schulz he would have to do away with this scene. “It’s too much religion,” they said. Mr. Schulz stood his ground and said “if we don’t tell them, who will?” He also told them if he couldn’t tell the Christmas story, they couldn’t use his characters. Because they were on a timeline and the movie had already been publicized in the TV guides, they had to go on with it. The TV producers were fully expecting it to be a disaster.

Now we know the rest of the story. On top of all the viewers that night, “A Charlie Brown Christmas” earned an Emmy and a Peabody Award.  As Charles Schulz accepted the Emmy he said, “Charlie Brown never wins anything, so thank-you very much.” And now for 50 years, the movie has been aired every year – usually twice a season. It has become a holiday tradition in many homes.

After familiarizing myself with everything I could find on the Internet about “A Charlie Brown Christmas”, I chastised myself that I had turned the TV off the evening I saw it coming on. I had chopped it up to a silly little animation program for children, and obviously, I had done this same thing for the last 50 years.

It struck me that maybe I had not missed the second showing of it. After some googling, I was pleased to find out that it will be shown again on Christmas Eve on ABC. It’s about time to start a new tradition, don’t you think?

 

 

 

This morning I attended a small church where they were performing their annual Christmas program recounting  the Christmas story. I’m quite sure every child in the church had a part – there’s always room for one more angel or one more shepherd. It brought back a lot of memories. There are memories of when I was one of those children ,wearing of course, an angel costume.(Well, I think so…that was a long time ago.) Then their were memories of my two boys playing their parts as shepherds and wise men.

Today, I had no reason to be nervous – I wasn’t performing and didn’t know anyone that was. In fact, I was just visiting this church and knew no one. It was the first time I had gone to a Christmas church program and didn’t know a single person on stage. This put me in a unique position. My eyes weren’t focused on any one person. I had no reason to care if the wiseman’s crown was crooked, or if the angel was holding the hem of her white gown above her head, or if the shepherd boy was poking his shepherd friend in hopes of making him squeal, or if Joseph was sticking his tongue out at Mary. Knowing no one was delightful!

I had time to observe the observers as well. All those children in the front, had parents in the pews. Well, not so much in the pews – most were up and out of their seats with their cameras pointed to their special actors on stage. I noticed that many of the fathers were assigned this duty while the mothers were trying to get their child’s attention with various hand signals. I’m sure it is just our human nature to want our children to be perfect little angels while they are up on stage. Wouldn’t it be boring if they really were? The best part of Christmas programs are when we are reminded through these little children that none of us are perfect. And I enjoy being reminded that we don’t have to be perfect because Jesus took all our sins to the cross with Him. This is a season to spread hope to those that might not have much hope. I challenge you to pick out someone every day that looks like they could use a little hope and give them a good dose of it.  God created each one of us and He loves each one of us as if we were the only one to love. Now, that’s a message everyone would love to hear.

 

This last weekend I traveled back to the north central part of Nebraska where I grew up. The family ranch is located approximately 30 miles south of Ainsworth on the Calamus River. I lived here in the late 60’s and early 70’s, during my junior high and high school years. Since that time I have been back for many visits. The home ranch is still owned by my mother and managed by my sister and brother-in-law.

I want to tell you about the old country schools of Nebraska, and specifically about the one I attended. First, a little history. In  1918 there were 6638 one room school houses in rural Nebraska. With the coming of improved roads and declining rural populations,  the country schools throughout the United States began to close. By 1959, there were 2812 of these country schools left in Nebraska. By the end of the 20th Century, one room schools across the U.S. had nearly vanished. There were only 840 left in the entire country in 1984 and Nebraska claimed 45% of these or 385 schools. And since that time those have closed as well. The country school is now a thing of the past.

The country school I attended was actually one of the more modernized schools of that time. We had indoor plumbing with two bathrooms – one for the girls and one for the boys. If I remember correctly, the sink sat between the two. We  had the large room where the desks sat, but we also had a smaller room where there were multiple chairs that sat around a table. We only had one teacher, but she often used this smaller room to teach a class to the younger children, while the older children were supposedly studying in the larger room. For the most part, I believe that is what happened, although I also remember a few spit wads flying by on occasion or a few notes being passed from student to student. After all, it wasn’t a school for angels. I started 6th grade at the Raven School and we had 12 students, ranging from first grade to eighth grade. By the time I graduated from the eighth grade, we had eight students in the school and the eighth grade class made up half of those, helped out by a set of twins. The schoolhouse was close enough to one family that those children walked to school every day. My family lived the farthest and Dad would take me the ten miles each morning, and each afternoon my brother would pick me up on his way home from the High School in town.

For those of us that attended these schools and now see them abandoned and physically decaying across the grasslands, it causes  a twinge of sadness. So many events were centered around the school in those days and a lot of fond memories have been collected. Perhaps the Christmas programs were the most noted events, filling the schoolhouse with standing room only. Every child had “a piece” to say – a short poem that they had hopefully memorized. Plays were performed that were also memorized, and songs were sung. The students were dressed in their finest clothes. Santa always showed up to pass out candy at the end of the program, and neighbors visited long after the teacher was ready to turn out the lights.

On my trip back this last weekend, I  learned that the fate of the Raven School is better than most. I was delighted to hear that someone was making this building into a home. I couldn’t help driving up the muddy lane to see for myself. Sure enough, it is happening. New windows, new doors, a second floor, and a new roof have been installed. What fun it will be to watch the progression of it. You might ask who would take on this major project? It’s not hard to figure out. Of course – a former student of Raven School with a few fond memories.