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They were two branches off the same Vine.
Designed in the Vine’s image, each a was unique expression of the nature of its Creator. One was tender and sensitive, with stunning intuitive wisdom. The other was strong and masculine, with a compelling view toward the horizon.
They loved being branches of the Vine. And they loved each other. But they’d cut themselves off from the flow of the Vine’s life. They believed the lie that they could thrive on their own. The result: An odd combination of life and death in the same form.
Form without flow.
Image without reality.
As they dreamed of a future together, they asked one another, “How can we shape ourselves so our offspring can know our love and be fruitful?” [click to continue…]
(The Twelve Ways of Christmas, Part 12 – The Way of Revelation)
It had been months since Dylan Jackson made the trek to Lynwood Nursing Home to see his grandmother. Even longer since they’d had an intelligible conversation. Once they’d been close, as he had been with both grandmothers. One had died when Dylan was 10 years old. Dylan promised himself he’d stay as close as possible to the other as they both got older.
Time and Alzheimer’s had other ideas.
When Helen Jackson first entered Lynwood, she could still recognize her grandson at times. Now he was a 38-year-old stranger. And Dylan had gotten a bit lost himself in a high-stress career and higher-stress home life. But this would be the year he made some changes, beginning with family. What better way to start than by taking his 14-year-old son Sean down Halls Mill Road to see Helen just before Christmas?
As he texted friends on his iPhone, his long hair hang-framing both sides of his face, Sean was anything but thrilled.
It had been an angry year for Sean Jackson. Hurt and betrayed by his closest friends – the “Christians” at his church – then dumped by his girlfriend this summer, Sean had retreated to a world of virtual reality, virtual “friends” and virtual silence. Making matters worse, the fighting between his parents made him feel all the more alone.
Now his dad –suddenly Captain Cheerful – was taking him on a guilt trip for Christmas to see somebody who had no clue who he was.
Ho. Ho. Ho. Let’s just get this over with. [click to continue…]
Pssst.
Tap, tap, tap.
Sorry to interrupt. I know you have a lot of important things on your mind, so I’ll only keep you for a minute.
Oh. And let me quickly say that I’m not here to sell you anything. But, as the envelope says, you may already be a winner!
So wouldn’t it be sad if a winner was living like… well, otherwise?
Wouldn’t it be tragic if this incredible wealth was there all along, but went unnoticed or unclaimed?
Let me show you how extraordinary the Grand Prize is. [click to continue…]
It came with all the usual markings of a Christmas card – a small-sized envelope, personally addressed, arriving in early December. But inside was a surprise. All that was in the envelope was an ordinary, well-used playing card – the three of hearts. Across the front of the card, an anonymous friend had written, “Merry Christmas, from one soldier to another.” [click to continue…]
They were two branches off the same Vine.
