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“To have courage for whatever comes in life—everything lies in that.”
—Saint Teresa of Ávila

When I met Mary Edna, her man-made Mantle of Strength for Courage was firmly wrapped about her. She’d learned to carry the weight of it. It was a resilient mantle, a not-giving-up mantle. Within that mantle were pockets from where she pulled threads and scraps of her brand of hospitality, of hearth-building, of raising home-born baby breaths to step into deep-gulping strides for independence, threads and scraps that turned an impoverished budget into jubilee for celebrations, threads and scraps that wove the warmth of home in a house with one floor furnace, a kitchen stove, two gas fireplaces, and one big fireplace to keep out the cold. . . threads and scraps that turned just-enough into a feast.

When my mother, brother and I moved in shortly before I turned 6, once again, she made room for family needing a place – instead of a place to find their feet this time, or for a grandmother who needed helping hands in her waning years, she made room for little feet to grow.

She never begrudged the quiet that had permeated home before we came. She never resented our messiness or huffed about our hands opening refrigerator doors and cabinets for rummaging as we made ourselves at home. Keep in mind – my brother and I grew up in a household that still ran under a WWII ration mentality. How she had more than enough on the table – filling up all five of us with one 1960s-70s era-sized chicken – well, that is a loaves & Fishes kind-of-cooking – or maybe, for this series, it is more apt to say an Oil & Flour kind-of-cooking. When my boys were at home, they’d come into the kitchen before dinner hungry. I’d suggest some “Bread & Butter.” They just looked at me like I’d just offered them cow tongue. When I’d make fried-chicken gravy, they’d skip over it. My brother and I must have filled up all the empty places in our stomachs with Bread & Butter and Fried Chicken Gravy & Butter – and it tasted like heaven. It makes me wonder if comfortably filled lards ruin taste buds. . . , but I digress.

Grandmother might have worn a self-made mantle because she had no idea that God was a Father who would design a better fitting one for her, an easier-to-wear mantle, one whose lightness would allow for more laughter, – and by its lightness, allow for a lighter touch on the reigns of those who lived in her home. Even so, the night-time prayers in the dark – they must have been woven in by the Holy Spirit, the sweet aroma of dinner-time blessings allowed to seep into her Mantle of Strength for Courage, stitched together with a Holy Thread because she and my mother ensured we were given an education that included the Word of God:

“The bringing up, as of a child, instruction; formation of manners. education comprehends all that series of instruction and discipline which is intended to enlighten the understanding, correct the temper, and form the manners and habits of youth, and fit them for usefulness in their future stations. To give children a good education in manners, arts and science, is important; to give them a religious education is indispensable; and an immense responsibility rests on parents and guardians who neglect these duties.” ~ 1828 Noah Webster Dictionary

Maybe her Strength for Courage enabled her to create a Mantle for Celebration for Hope – the hope of goodness, of provision, that joy comes in the morning, that the hard is transient in a faith-led daily. . . and the most shining of her Mantles was her Mantle of Christmas Keeping – a five-sensory season for the heart, the soul, the body.

What she couldn’t buy on a good sale, she made. Oh, how my mother picked up her Mantle of Christmas Keeping, her Mantle of Making Beautiful Things from things Unformed – prom dresses, kilts, wrap-around quilt skirts, curtains, hand-stitched throws, Santas, Cheesebox Christmas Houses, Stained Glass, and the beloved Mantle of Ginger Bread Tradition . . .

Christmas sparkled, twinkled lavishly from the mantles draped with garlands and baby Jesus in the manager. Three angels sat on a music box and if you turned them, “Away in a Manger” filled the room. Nobody set a better table -or filled it with better food on Christmas morning.

I remember lying under the tree that first Christmas after we’d moved in, watching the silver tree change from green, to red to blue as the color-wheel turned. In the entry hall, the family bible lay open to Luke 2 – a ruby cross next high-lighting the birth of our Savior and Angels singing:

 “And there were in the same country shepherds abiding in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night.
And, lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them, and the glory of the Lord shone round about them: and they were sore afraid.
 And the angel said unto them, Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people.
For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord.
And this shall be a sign unto you; Ye shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger.
And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God, and saying,
Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men.”
~ Luke 2: 8-14

. . . and I would go along with those shepherds – outsiders, the less-thans, ones who had found a jubilee moment in impoverished circumstances – to that manger, my heart so very hungry for what He brought, though it didn’t yet understand the depth, power and redemption of what His gift..

Grandmother’s self-made mantle found itself filled with Holy Spirit threads stitched in unawares. . . creating a mantle that was at times a refuge from a harsh world for those God gave her, a safe space, a place for thriving, a place where God could be found if you’d just look around.

How many times does God stitch His Holy Spirit into the mantles we have woven – and we know it not? Spirit-filled angels sewing inside things like strength, leadership, mercy, teaching, healing, her brand of encouraging – though it might have walked itself out with less tenderness, less compassion, less. . . hardness because she didn’t know it didn’t have to be that way. . .

The table on Feast Days were not set with the stuff of Bread & Butter, Bread & Gravy Days. The table was filled with all sorts of goodness – decadent goodness. Orange Dream Salad (if you know, you know), Grandmother’s breakfast casserole and her coffee cakes, my mother Modjeska’s and bourbon balls, Christmas Truffles, dishes carried in from her four other children. My Aunts, Uncles, cousins all came trouping in for their assigned breakfast 30 minutes at The Table – each family rotating in and out, connecting, laughing over Christmas Morning. . . the house brimmed over with all their arms, legs, and Christmas joy. Christmas Dinner found us at an Aunt & Uncles’ house where other family members sat around the table with us.

Grandmother wasn’t a preaching mother or grandmother. She wasn’t a bible quoting granny. She wasn’t like her mother who’d read her bible for an hour after feeding all the farm-hands lunch, who lived worried about her children meeting her in heaven. . . because she, too, didn’t know that our Savior born Christmas morning wanted to lighten her yoke, too. Yet, through her actions and the actions of her daughter (my grandmother), and my mother, she pointed her children to Jesus.

“Courage is not the absence of fear but rather the assessment that something else is more important than fear.” —Franklin D. Roosevelt

I would say that it was a Martha-mentality paired with fear that caused my grandmother to build her self-made Mantle of Strength for Courage – all kinds of fear – fear of loss, fear she would fail providing her children – with “plans to prosper them and not to harm them, plans to give them hope and a future” ( Jeremiah 29:11), but I do not think she knew of the Mantle of Trust to Hope that God would do that for herself or her children – as a loving Father does His children.

Yet, that fear built that Mantle of Strength for Courage that allowed her to build a beautiful Mantle of Christmas Keeping that her children and grandchildren came close to carry into their family’s and their homes. In the carrying, faith caught fire in some – and they learned about the Mantle of Trust to Hope, to invite God into the mantle making for all the mantles: giving us Strength for Courage to exchange the Mantle of the Dirge for the Mantle of Thanksgiving Song, the Give-Up Mantle of Surrender for the Mantle of Over-Coming, exchanging the Moaning Mantle for Joy’s Mantle; to let Him create A Mantle of Redeeming Blessing in Impoverished Circumstances, the Mantle of Forgiveness for Relationship Restoration, The Mantle of Willingness in Gift Exchange (where we give what we hold dear to God in order to receive what He has for us), . . . the Mantle of Bah Humbug for The Mantle of Christmas Keeping. . .

Oh, yes, ““Courage is grace under pressure” (Ernest Hemingway).

But when you realize you only need to have courage to trust God, to believe what He says, to invite Him in to the good of the daily, the ordinary of the daily, and the challenges of the daily, Courage to Trust Him is Spirit-Filled Grace that lifts your soul above the man-made pressures in a man-made world.

I think my grandmother could have given Ebeneezer Scrooge a run for his money on how well he celebrated Christmas after opened his hearts to the hands and feet of those he walked with in the daily.

Sometimes, though, you have to start out with man-made Strength for Courage. . . and that’s what Mary Edna did. Through effort and determination, she designed her own mantle of Strength for Courage. . . and I benefited from that mantle. It provided security, boundaries, refuge, home, belonging. . . . I also learned that if you dared to walk close enough to the bearer of a Man-Made Mantle of Strength for Courage while holding on to God, there are blessings to be vintaged, softness to be found, Strength for Courage for God-Designed dreams – because God can redeem a man-made mantle.

Because of the mantle my grandmother created, wafts of faith threaded its way through over time. She found strength for courage to celebrate, to rejoice, not just to stretch enough to fill those around the table, and not just to make a feast out of enough, but she taught all those who sat around her table how to celebrate regardless of the size of a paycheck, regardless of the state of circumstances, regardless of the condition of the world outside her front door.

Could it have been a lighter mantle? It sure could have. Do you feel your Mantle of Strength for Courage is too heavy? Do you need it lightened? Do you want the same God who sent His son to be born in a manger over 2,000 years ago – so that you could exchange that man-made mantle for a God-designed mantle – do you want Him to lighten your load? Are you having trouble letting Him? Just cry out, “I believe. Help my unbelief “(Mark 9:24)! You might have tug-of-war moments, takesy-backsy moments – but each time, you let Him keep it longer. Let Him be your Mantle Maker.

As you were reading above, maybe you found I did not mention a mantle you wear – or a mantle someone who impacted you wore – please share that mantle below. I am sure there’s a world full of soul-closets full of all kinds of God-Designed mantles.

Dear Father,
Christmas isn’t just about The Promise born in a manager. It’s also about Passover. . . , and Easter. It’s really a collision of all three – and because of that collision, we don’t have to find an Elijah or Elisha. We can come straight to you, cry out to you, “I’ve tried to do this all on my own, but I cannot. Help me Father. Help me my Savior. Help me Holy Spirit. Take the mantle of Strength for Courage or whatever mantle I have tried to make on my own – take my mantle and lay yours on me. Teach me to wear your mantle that promises I can Trust to Hope in you for Your kind of Strength for Your kind of Courage. What a good! Good Father you are for your provision, for your love, for your equipping for the times in which we live. I praise you, Father, for your goodness, for your Son, for your Spirit you’ve given us.
In Jesus’ Name,
Your Girl!

“And it was always said of him, that he knew how to keep Christmas well, if any man alive possessed the knowledge. May that be truly said of us, and all of us! And so, as Tiny Tim observed, God bless Us, Every One!” ~ Charles Dickens

Remember Me Monday: #116 Link-up

“I’ll make a list of God’s gracious dealings,
    all the things God has done that need praising,
All the generous bounties of God,
    his great goodness to the family of Israel—
Compassion lavished,
.    love extravagant.”
~ Isaiah 63:7, The Message

In the Old Testament, God repeatedly, quietly and loudly, tells his children, “You have forgotten me!”  (Jeremiah 3:32, Ezekiel 22:12, to name a few). It’s a heart cry from a father to a child who has forgotten all the love, all the saving, helping, little and big blessings – and it leaves me stunned when I realize our Father, the creator of the universe, who knows things I cannot begin to fathom, who authors storylines that leave me amazed, delights in all of us so much, He cries out, “Remember Me.”

While every day is a Remember God Day, I am inviting you to join me on Monday mornings to come by and remember what God has done for you, for your family. Maybe God sent a cardinal darting out in front of you, as if to tell you, “I’m here,” or broke a child’s fever after you laid it all down at His feet in a 2 a.m. bedside vigil. Maybe He stood with you in the wait of a prayer sent out, or brought someone you loved to Christ. Maybe He healed your broken heart, gave your courage, or you gave Him your dreams as a love offering only to have Him give them back in an unimaginable way. Maybe God helped you survive to bedtime after a crazy Monday, or forgive yourself for missing it with your kiddos –– Whatever it is, let’s Remember Him. . . in a “Remember Me Monday” love letter.

“My mouth will tell of your righteousness,
Of your salvation all the day long,
Though I know not its measure.
I will come and proclaim your mighty acts, O Sovereign Lord”
~ Psalm 71:15-16.

Let us delight in Him by telling the  stories of what He’s done!  If you wrote a blog post remembering what He’s done for you, join the linky. If you didn’t but still want to praise Him for what He’s done – write it in the comment section. Then visit a comment before or after yours! One of the beautiful things about the blogging community is the relationships it builds!

Rules?  Write long or short, a list or a story, include photos or not. Just Remember Him and what He has done, and let the gratitude of your heart guide you. Let’s make Monday so Rejoice, that the goodness of God spills into the rest of the week! (Link opens Mondays at 6 a.m.)

Places I’m Linking at This Week:
  Instaencouragements, Legacy Link-Up, 
Recharge Wednesday, Scripture & a Snapshot
 Grace&Truth, Sweet Tea & Friends
Let’s Have Coffee Wednesday