There is a time for everything,

and a season for every activity under heaven.

— Ecclesiastes, 3:1

It was while finishing dinner dishes Wednesday evening of this week that I spotted my reward: a new holiday magazine filled with recipes, a recliner placed close to the stove in the family room and a wonderful flannel blanket my mother-in-law made me last Christmas. It had been a good day, to be sure; but it had also been eventful. I longed to create a place where I could be quiet, curl up under a soft, warm blanket and treat myself by reading recipes in preparation for the upcoming holidays. I hurried to finish my task and dry my hands.

I also knew if I planned it right I could probably entice our new Chihuahua to curl up on my lap. He is the ultimate little heating pad, ever willing to hold still and receive the expressions of love my own children enjoyed as babies.

I regularly create quiet time for myself, especially as the holidays approach, because I am contemplative by nature and find I must reconcile the realities of my life as they play against the images of what is paraded in front of me during this season. I love what the holidays represent. I am drawn to beautiful tables and gift wraps. The cards, the new twists on old recipe favorites and the thought of finding just the right gifts for my family members brings me immeasurable pleasure, even during the sheer anticipation of it all.

But I have also lived long enough to understand that God’s choice to order our lives with seasons that cycle in and cycle out produce both joy and sorrow in the short run and a personal and dramatic understanding of His profound love for each of us in the long run.

A couple of years ago I barely breathed through Christmas. My parents had begun the process of ending their 47-year marriage and the sadness I felt left me exhausted. I wanted to simply sit and watch the holiday come and go, but I had children who deserved a good holiday memory and needed to see me handle this trauma with some strength and maturity. As difficult as it was, I mentally reconstructed a new set of holiday images and expectations. I also determined that those images would begin to mend my breaking heart, in spite of the fact that they looked nothing like the images I saw on Hallmark commercials.

For the first time in my life I mentally prepared for my new reality: My childhood family would be emotionally and geographically scattered. Not all the usual players would be present to sit together at the Christmas Eve service. There would only be one grandparent present to eat blueberry crumb cake and sip coffee while the kids opened their presents.

I also prayed my way through the holidays. I repeatedly turned to Ecclesiastes, urging God to use King Solomon’s words to not only give me perspective and hope, but to heal my hurts and provide me with solutions to my concerns. God reminded me that there is a time to weep. There is also a promise that those who weep will laugh once again, possibly with greater appreciation and satisfaction. That is because God is the champion of second chances. He understood that future holidays would not feel like that one did, yet I would need to go through the trauma if I were to understand the same eternal lesson writer John Baillie shared during the first half of last century when he prayed:

Give me a stout heart to bear my own burdens.

Give me a willing heart to bear the burdens of others.

Give me a believing heart to cast all burdens upon Thee, O Lord.

There is a time when we must do what seems like the impossible: We must surrender to the circumstances in our lives, knowing God has a plan for each one of us. He provides cycles of life, each with its work for us to do. And although we may face problems that seem to contradict God’s plan, these should not become barriers to believing in Him. Instead they can be opportunities to wondrous discovery: Without God, life’s problems have no lasting solutions.

And so it is that I opened a holiday magazine this week and began building a menu. I also generated a holiday “To Do” list that included giving my mom a call to see how her holiday menu is shaping up and give her hints about the Christmas gift package I’m putting together for her and her husband. It’s a happy thought. I’ll also give my stepmom a call to see how we can coordinate our menus for Thanksgiving. That’s a happy thought as well.

Seems to me it’s a time to build…and laugh…and eat.

Freelance writer Joan Bay Klope’s e-mail address is jbklope@hotmail.com.