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There are times in life when you are unable to pay someone back. People show kindness towards you and you are never able to repay them. During Christmas time, I often think of Russ Hawkinson.  He was not our Grandfather by blood, but our Grandfather by action. He always helped my family when I was growing up and money was tight.

My mom would receive a Christmas card and tucked inside was some money to buy gifts for five kids or to pay for a ham. It was given out of love and there was no pay back expected. He had the means to give and he gave. Kindness…often we think it so rare.

A few months ago, I got a flat tire. I am embarrassed to admit that I have never changed a flat tire. I found the manual, opened up the back of the van, and discovered I could not even turn the jack loose from it’s holder. I called my husband who was just leaving work and would not be home for an hour or more. He let me know he couldn’t help me. His only advice was, “Look helpless.”

A car pulled into the parking lot to drop off a well dressed man in a very nice suit. His car was parked just down from mine. I walked over and asked him if he could just help me figure out how to get the jack out of it’s holder and then I would attempt the next step. He looked at me, the manual, the van and told his buddy who had dropped him off, “You go ahead, I’m going to help her.”

He changed the flat tire and I stood there and watched his very expensive shirt get ruined. When he was finished, I told him the story of my husband’s bit of advice to “Look helpless.” He told me, “Tell him it worked.” Dale, of course, thinks this vindication of his great advice. For some reason, I don’t view it the same way.

I asked the man who helped me if there was anything I could do to help him or anything I could give him for his trouble. He said “No. Pay it forward.” I had seen that movie years ago and understand the power of that action from a Christian viewpoint. We are called to help others as if Christ himself were in need of help. It is all a part of the principle of “Love thy Neighbor.”

Last month, the endless needs of my “neighbors” sought to overwhelm me. I was asked again to bless someone I did not know and I struggled with the selfish thought of “I cannot do one more thing, God. I am overwhelmed.” I did it out of obedience, but not initially with a giving heart. Later, when I came face to face with the need, I was ashamed at my selfishness.

Immediately after I agreed to meet that need, God blessed us in a totally unexpected way. “I can’t out give you, God.” I thought. “I think I have given so much, and compared to what You have given me, it is so very little.”

A week ago, the endless needs of my “neighbors” sought again to overwhelm me. I was asked again to bless someone I did not know.  Again I thought, “I will do this, but I cannot do one more thing, God. I am overwhelmed.”

The next day, I read a teaching which revealed to me my wrong focus. Truly, I cannot meet the overwhelming needs of everyone that surrounds me, but I can meet the need of the one that God directs me to. I must ask God every time, “Do You want me to meet this need God? If so, help me to do it.”

This morning, I dropped Josiah off at the bus and while returning home I found myself a few cars behind someone driving with a flat tire. The person directly behind him passed on the right, the Marine in front of me hurried off to work, the policeman driving by in the other direction did not stop.

Finally, the car pulled off into a parking lot and I followed. An elderly man got out of the car and I walked over to see how I could help. I did not know him. He simply asked me for a ride home. He lives approximately 5 blocks from me.

After I dropped him off, I thanked God for that flat tire months ago, for without having experienced that sinking feeling I experienced with a flat tire, I may not have pulled over to help. I told the man about my flat tire and how I was told to pay it forward. He told me he always stops to help people and his wife tells him he is crazy to do it.

I know I must be wise when I offer to help someone, but I knew God was asking me, once again, one more thing.

“Remember your free cheese…Provide food for people who are hungry.”

“Remember your Christmas gift…Provide gifts for a child with nothing.”

“Remember your flat tire…Provide a ride for an elderly man.”

Love your neighbor – Show Kindness – Pay it forward. It is what we are called to do.

Josiah had his high school Christmas concert this week: choir, band, orchestra. It was really good. A neighboring school (I use neighboring here very loosely) permitted FCS to use their auditorium. The school is located in the midst of the farm fields and as I was driving in the pouring rain through the darkness, I began to doubt I would find it. It is located on roads that change names and directions periodically just for fun.

I arrived, dropped Josiah off, and waited for Dale and the other kids to find us via GPS. When they arrived, they could not recall their route. It’s just one of those locations you end up at grateful that you are there, without knowing how you got there.

There were several students playing prelude piano pieces, which sadly no one was listening to because I suspect people thought the students were practicing. There was one girl playing what looked to be a very difficult piece that unfortunately no one heard.

The crowd quieted after the welcome and I had great sympathy for the moms who were attempting to keep babies and toddlers quiet. It’s a bit easier with a five year old, although the kid loves to chat. However, I remember quite clearly those days of “Please…just be quiet for five minutes, so I can hear your sister sing.”

I am not an artistic person, so I always greatly enjoy watching the choir director, orchestra leader, and band director when they are full on. Their conducting is filled with such emotion, it is almost like a dance in itself. The band director was in tails and the choir and orchestra director were in formals gowns. I get great enjoyment out of watching them work.

The choir sounded fabulous and I was shocked. I had heard them perform at an earlier event in the gym and they were good, but it is amazing what good acoustics can accomplish. They all sang clear and strong and all the parts could be heard.

Josiah accompanied them on I Need a Silent Night. (Christian radio stations play this song) After listening to Josiah talk about the struggles of pulling this piece together, I was amazed to hear how terrific it came out when they performed it.

Josiah also played the David Lanz version of God Rest Ye Merry Gentleman for an interlude between the band and choir. It was the first time he had performed on a grand piano. Wow! I have heard him play the song many times. What a difference a grand piano makes. He sounded like a recording.

When the programs were printed, Josiah’s name was accidentally left off. Because of this, after Josiah finished the Lanz piece, the band director introduced him. The crowd applauded and one of Josiah’s friends in the band gave him a thumbs up. In return, Josiah gave his friend a thumbs up. The crowd thought Josiah was giving them a thumbs up for the applause and they laughed.

I liked the band’s Deck the Halls with Chips and Salsa, but my favorite piece of the night was the Orchestra version of  Carol of the Bells. It must be great fun to play that on violin.

The night ended with choir, band, and orchestra combined on the Hallelujah Chorus. They kept it together and sounded quite good. I’ve been thinking, with Josiah on piano, Abby on flute, and Gabe on trumpet, maybe I can find a little violin somewhere and get Zeke started.

On my birthday, I decided to set out in search of a birthday cake. I had planned to search earlier in the week, but did not, so my birthday arrived and I had no cake. (Dale had offered to bake a cake with the kids or buy one from a local restaurant. The restaurant makes cakes I love but the kids don’t love).

I appreciated his offer, but I wanted to find an actual bakery. A place you walk into that smells yummy and there are bakery cases with donuts, cakes, cookies, pies, bread and rolls. I didn’t want the bakery to be inside a gigantic supermarket, or the cake to be mass produced.

Finding a bakery is an easy task in the midwest where thousands of German, French, Dutch, and Italian immigrants settled. In the midwest,  everyone loves bakeries and keeps them in business. In Virginia, people must be worried about their health. We midwest people don’t worry too much about their health.

When I asked around for bakeries, most people couldn’t name one in the area. After much thought, one friend remembered one in Quantico town. Quantico town is a place most people would declare, “You’ll have to see it to believe it.” The town started out as a fishing village and eventually developed an old fashioned main street with barber shops and restaurants. Then the Marine Corps surrounded it. It is entirely enclosed by the base and the potomac river. It is lost in time.

The bakery is across from the train station and makes fabulous apple fritters and bread. It’s more like a little coffee shop when you walk in. You have to order ahead if you want a cake. So, no cake, but good bread.

When I left the bakery, I walked along the potomac, eating an apple fritter and enjoying the beautiful morning God had made. After weeks of much rain and gray, the sky was sparkling blue and the sun was warm. Amazingly the temperature was sixty degrees on December 3rd. I thoroughly enjoyed watching the sun reflected off the water; it was lovely.

When I walked back to the van, I called my friend Mo, since I consider her better than a GPS. She has lived in Northern Virginia forever and when I can’t find something she tells me where to look. She directed me to a bakery in Fredericksburg, a town further south.

There I found what I was looking for: Paul’s Bakery, right next to the Salvation Army. It met the criteria: yummy smell, baked goods lined up in bakery cases, a birthday cake to buy, and a line of men. You know it is a good bakery if there are men lined up buying donuts. If men are willing to go out of their way to stop and buy donuts instead of choosing the easy solution of buying one at the Wawa, the place must be good.

The baker gladly piped “Happy Birthday Mugs” on the cake, she didn’t mind me wandering around considering it all, and there were a lot of people in the back baking. The cakes were standard yellow or chocolate with white frosting. It tasted fresh and the kids loved it.

Searching for a bakery – a good way to spend a birthday.

Traditions are a haphazard thing with me. Some of my traditions are based on activities the Meloch family did when I was growing up (birthday cake to Jesus, hiding Easter baskets) and some I picked up from various places that I have lived. I picked up one such tradition while I was in Germany.

Last night, Gabe said, “Mom, tomorrow’s December 1st and you forgot to get the chocolate calendars!” Boys after the ages of 7 love to be know-it-alls. They view themselves as so much smarter than their mothers and inform their mothers of this fact throughout the day.

I have developed the following response to this “I’m smarter than you attitude” based on education completed. For me, I say, “The day you start your Master’s Degree at University is the day you are smarter than me. Until that day, I am smarter than you whether you believe it or not.” If you did not go to college, you may adjust this remark to , “The day you start college or trade school is the day you are smarter than me. Until that day, I am smarter than you whether you believe it or not.”

Hopefully, by the time that day comes they’ll be out of the house and no longer driving you nuts. When I told Gabe this, he replied, “The day I start my Masters degree, I’m going to call you on the phone and say, ‘Mom, I’m smarter than you’.” I’m certain he will. The kid will probably get a phD, just to prove how much smarter he is than his mother. If he wasn’t so like his mother in doing whatever it takes to prove someone wrong, it would be easier to stomach.

Not wanting only to prove his mother wrong, last night he decided to prove his aunt wrong as well. Every year my brother-in-law’s mom sends me a wreath she makes from the pines on her land in Northern Minnesota. Whenever I open the box, the smell of home greats me.

Considering this a good task for Gabe, I told him to hang the wreath under the lights by the door. I asked him to check if his daddy had any wire and a wire cutter for the task. He declared, “I’m going to use a pipe cleaner, it has wire in it.” I was on the phone with my sister at the time and she commented that she didn’t think that would hold. After hearing this comment, Gabe was determined to prove her wrong.

He found a 10 pound exercise hand weight and tied it under a chair using the pipe cleaner to test the pipe cleaner’s strength. (The boy spends an excessive amount of time watching myth busters, his new favorite show, and is constantly relaying to me how the two guys have proven or disproved something.) The kid is destined to be a mechanic or engineer or maybe a mad scientist.

The wreath is now hanging by a pipe cleaner safely outside under the light. It looks lovely.

However, even though he had proven my sister wrong, he was behind the power curve with the chocolate calendars. Abby informed him of this fact, “Gabe, Mom buys the calendars in,like, August!” (Eye roll for emphasis)

She was close. Not quite August, but October. At the Commissary (military grocery store) they put out the German Christmas items at the same time as the Halloween candy. I buy them right away every year and store them away for fear of repeating the mistake of waiting too long and finding them sold out.

I first started buying them for Dale and I when we were assigned to Germany in the early 1990s. The calendars are a simple thin rectangle of cardboard with little doors to open from 1 to 24. Under each door is a piece of chocolate pressed into a holiday shape (present, tree, candle, etc.)

You eat a piece of chocolate and count down the days until Christmas. In my opinion, a fabulous tradition.

Dale loves to run. I do not love to run.

Zeke once listed our family by order of speed. “Josiah is fastest. Daddy is second. Zeke is third. Abby is fourth. Gabe is fifth. Mommy is last, ” he informed us all. When his two older siblings objected to being slower than him, he reluctantly rearranged the order. “Josiah is fastest. Daddy is second. Abby is third. Gabe is fourth. Zeke is fifth. Mommy is still last,” he said.

Admittedly, my last place position is warranted. Josiah has taken after his father and loves to run. Abby and Gabe have taken after me and run when they must. Zeke has been a bit of a tossup since he loves to run, but also loves to stop.

After watching Josiah run throughout the Cross Country season, Zeke declared he wanted to enter a race. So, Dale entered himself  and Josiah into the 5k Turkey Trot and Zeke into the 1 mile kid’s Turkey Trot in Fredericksburg on Thanksgiving morning.

Zeke lined up for the race with boys and girls 6 and under alongside his two handlers Dale and Josiah. The pistol fired and he took off at a sprint. It took Dale and Josiah two blocks to catch up with him. I saw Zeke pass the 1 mile mark with a look of pain and agony on his face, he was running hard.

Zeke Running with Josiah

He finished with a time of 10:45, 61 out of 145. All runners who finished received a medal. He was proud of himself.

Zeke's Finishing Sprint

Then “the losing someone in a crowd drama” occurred when Dale, Josiah, and Zeke  walked one way and I walked another. I lost them in the crowd of 2415 5k runners and their families. I was wearing a bright red jacket and hoped that if I stood in the middle of the road intersection ahead of the start, they would see me. They were on the top of the steps of the library in the hopes that I would see them.

I had both my and Dale’s cell phones and with the 5k race fast approaching, I prayed quite a few frantic prayers and asked various people I knew if they had seen them. Losing someone in a crowd is quite unsettling. Thankfully, they saw me and Zeke did not have to run the 5k.

The first runners to finish were two Kenyan runners from Chapel Hill, NC. They finished together at 14:35. It was amazing to watch the sprint to the finish. I saw Josiah just after 20 minutes. The guy next to him said, “Come on little man,” and started to sprint. I think he was a bit surprised when Josiah out sprinted him as well as the guy in front of him to finish at 20:11 (99 out of 2415).

Dale’s training this autumn had been a bit lackluster compared to Josiah’s. He finished at 24:17 (387 out of 2415 runners). This time I stayed where I was and let Dale find me. They all ate their bagels and cookies, drank their water and gatorade and got their turkey t-shirts.

The Happy Finishers

When we got home, Zeke was complaining to Gabe that he hadn’t gotten to do anything fun yet. Gabe replied, “What? You just got to run a race. That’s fun!” Zeke answered, “Running a race isn’t fun.”

So, the child remains an even division between Dale and I. He wants to run the race like Dale, but he sure doesn’t consider it fun. A bit of his mother in him there.